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THE    PRODIGAL    SON; 


OR, 


THE  SINNER'S  RETURN  TO  GOD. 


MICHAEL  MULLER, 

Priest   of  the    Congregation   of  the    Most   Holy   Redeemer. 


WITH    THE  APPROBATION  OP  HIS  EMINENCE  THE  CARDINAL-ARCH 
BISHOP  OF  NEW  YORK. 


XTXTll  EDITION. 

LIBRARY 


It 

NEW  YORK,  CINCINNATI,  AND  CHICAGO  : 

BENZIGER    BROTHERS, 

Printers  to  the  Bolu  Apostolic  Set'. 


AUG  1  31957 


Copyright, 
VERY  REV.  JOSEPH  HELMPRACHT, 

1875. 


N.  Y.  C.  PROTECTORY  PRINT, 
WEST  CHESTER,  N.  Y. 


TO  THE 
SACRED      AND      EVER -  IMMACULATE 

22?ravt  of  jfttar,i>, 

THE  MOTHER  OF  MERCY  AND  REFUGE  OF  SINNERS, 

THIS    BOOK 

IS   HUMBLY    DEDICATED 

IN 
THANKSGIVING    A  N  lT  L  O  V  E  „ 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I." 

Introductory.—  Good  Reading, 


CHAPTER  II. 
The  Prodigal  Son,         .        .        ......      *0 

CHAPTER  III. 

God,  the  Father  of  Mankind,        .        .        .  .        .27 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Prodigal's  Choice  —  End  of  Man,    .  .       .       .40 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  Prodigal's  Departure—  Mortal  Sin,        «...      62 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Prodigal's  Companions  —  Impurity,        .        .       .       .      33 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Prodigal  a  Monster—  Drunkenness,       .        .        .        .114 

5 


ft  CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Far  Country— Infidelity,        .  ....   -135 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Portrait  of  the  Infidel,  . 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Prodigal's  Repentance — Dcftth,    . 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Prodigal  Judged— Particular  Judgment,      ...     190 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Prodigal  and  his  Companions  Judged— General  Judg 
ment,  :  ......  I       209 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Prodigal's  Companions  Punished— Hell  of  the  Body,   .    228 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Prodigal's  Companions  Punished— Hell  of  the  Soul,    .    254 

CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Father  of  the  Prodigal— God's  Mercy,          .       .       .    269 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Prodigal's  Prayer— Pra  er  the  Key  to  God's  Mercy,    .    306 


CONTENTS.  7 

PAG  a 
CHAPTER  XVII. 

Misapprehension  of  God's  Mercy — Delay  of  Conversion,     .    318 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Road  Homeward— Institution  of  Confession;        .        .    341 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Prodigal's  Confession— Necessity  of  Confession,  .        .    355 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Quality  of  the  Prodigal's  Confession — Its  Integrity,     .        .    374 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  Prodigal's  Sorrow— Contrition,  ....    395 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  Prodigal's  Resolution — Proximate  Occasion  of  Sin,       .    414 

CHAPTER  XXHI. 
Bad  Books, .        .        .        .425 

CHAPTER  XXTV. 

What  Increased  the  Prodigal's  Sorrow— General  Confession,   436 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  Great  Banquet-  -Holy  Communion,       .        .        .        .451 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVI.  PA°B 

Necessity  of  Prayer,      .  .       .       .       ,  ,482 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

The  Power  and  Mercy  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary,     .        .    505 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

The  Prodigal's  Brother— Happiness  of  the  Just,          .        .    539 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  Father's  House— Heaven,      .  559 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTORY. — GOOD  READING. 

A  TRAVELLER  once  found  himself  alone  on  a  dreary 
moor.  The  ground  was  covered  with  snow.  The 
bleak  winter  wind  moaned  and  blew  in  fitful  gusts.  All 
nature  seemed  dead  around  him,  and  scarcely  a  star-light 
gleamed  on  the  dreary  tomb.  The  poor  lonely  traveller  had 
lost  his  way.  He  had  been  wandering  long  amid  the  snow 
drifts.  He  was  benumbed  with  cold,  dispirited  and  weary. 
Must  he  lie  down  upon  this  bleak  moor  and  die  ?  Must  the 
ice  be  his  bed  and  the  snow  his  winding-sheet  ?  He  thinks 
of  home,  but  the  thought  tills  his  soul  with  bitterness. 
Never  again  shall  he  feel  his  fond  wife's  embrace,  never 
again  shall  his  children  welcome  him  with  the  merry  laugh 
and  the  warm,  tender  kiss.  The  poor  traveller  sinks  upon 
the  ground  in  weakness  and  despair.  A  distant  sound 
strikes  upon  his  ear,  rouses  him  from  his  stupor,  and  fills 
him  with  hope.  It  is  the  sound  of  the  convent  bell  ring 
ing  the  matin  chime.  The  lost  traveller  shakes  off  the 
sleep  of  death.  He  sees  in  the  distance  a  glimmering  light. 
He  urges  on  his  weary  steps.  He  reaches  the  convent  door, 
and  is  safe. 

The  state  of  this  unhappy  traveller  is  but  a  faint  image 
of  the  unhappy  condition  of  a  soul  that  has  strayed  from 
God — from  the  true  faith  ;  that  is  wandering  about  in  dark 
ness  and  doubt,  and  has  sunk  into  blank  despair.  At  last 
this  unhappy  soul  reads  a  pious  book.  The  light  of  truth 

I 


10  INTR  OD  UCTOR  Y. 

flashes  upon  nis  mind.  He  hastens  to  the  church.  He  en 
ters  her  portals,  and  there  finds  a  peace  and  contentment  of 
heart  that  surpass  all  understanding.  He  is  saved. 

A  good  book  is  indeed  a  faithful  friend,  that  will  give 
us  counsel  without  cowardice  or  flattery,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  without  any  personal  bitterness,  on  the  other.  It  is  also 
one  of  the  best  missionaries  of  the  Church.  It  can  enter 
places  where  priests  cannot  penetrate.  A  stern  hater  of 
the  Catholic  Church,  who  on  no  consideration  would  hold 
intercourse  with  a  Catholic  priest,  will  often  take  a  volume 
of  Catholic  truth  and  read  it  by  his  fireside. 

La  Harpe  was  an  infidel  and  a  great  friend  of  Voltaire. 
He  wrote  several  works  against  religion.  When  the  French 
Revolution  broke  out  he  was  seized  and  cast  into  prison. 
In  the  silence  and  solitude  of  his  cell  he  found  time  to 
examine  the  truths  of  religion,  which  he  had  hitherto  neg 
lected.  He  tells  us  how  sad  and  lonely  he  was  in  his  cell. 
To  w^iile  away  his  time  he  read  a  few  pious  books  that  had 
been  given  him.  Gradually  the  light  of  faith  began  to 
dawn  in  his  heart  ;  but  the  heavenly  light  filled  him 
with  terror.  All  the  sins  of  his  life  came  up  before  him. 
He  knew  that  death  was  at  hand  ;  for  in  those  days  there 
was  but  one  step  from  the  prison  to  the  scaffold.  For  the 
first  time  in  forty  years  he  turned  to  God  with  an  humbled, 
sorrowful  heart,  and  began  to  pray.  There  was  no  priest 
near  to  prepare  him  for  death.  They  were  all  either  dead 
or  banished.  After  having  offered  up  a  fervent  prayer,  he 
opened  at  random  a  copy  of  the  Imitation  of  Christ  and- 
read  these  consoling  words :  "  See,  my  son,  I  have  come  to 
thee  because  thou  hast  called  me."  The  words  filled  him 
with  unspeakable  consolation.  His  heart  was  touched ;  he 
fell  upon  his  face  and  burst  into  tears.  This  was  the  begin 
ning  of  a  new  life.  La  Harpe  was  afterwards  set  free  ;  but 
he  remained  ever  after  faithful  to  the  good  resolutions  ho 
had  formed  whilst  shut  up  in  his  dreary  prison. 


INTR  on  UCTOR  T.  11 

Dr.  Palafox,  the  pious  Bishop  of  Osnia,  in  his  preface  to 
the  letters  of  St.  Teresa,  relates  that  an  eminent  Lutheran 
minister  at  Bremen,  who  was  famed  for  several  works  which 
lie  had  published  against  the  Catholic  Church,  purchased 
the  Life  of  St.  Teresa,  with  a  view  of  attempting  to  con 
fute  it.  But  after  reading  it  over  attentively,  he  was  con 
verted  to  the  Catholic  faith,  and  from  that  time  forward  led 
a  most  edifying  life. 

A  thousand  such  examples  might  be  offered  to  show  that 
the  reading  of  pious  books  is  well  calculated  to  lead  sinners 
to  a  life  of  grace,  and  to  encourage  the  just  to  walk  steadily 
onward  on  the  road  to  perfection.  The  tendency  of  pious 
reading  to  induce  men  of  the  world  to  change  their  ways 
and  enter  on  the  path  of  a  holy  life,  may  be  seen  from 
the  conversion  of  St.  Augustine.  The  extreme  repugnance 
which,  previous  to  his  conversion,  the  saint  felt  in  his  soul 
at  the  thought  of  parting  with  the  false  pleas-ures  of  sense 
and  surrendering  himself  in  full  to  the  service  of  Christ,  is 
well  known  to  readers  of  his  life.  What  a  terrible  conflict, 
what  fierce  attacks,  he  experienced  within  his  heart !  The 
story  of  the  conflict,  as  told  by  himself,  moves  us  to  pity. 
He  tells  us  that  he  groaned  as  he  felt  his  own  will,  like  a 
heavy  chain,  holding  him  fast ;  and  that  the  enemy  of  man 
kept  even  his  power  of  willing  shackled  by  a  kind  of  cruel 
necessity.  He  went  through  an  agony  of  death  in  ridding 
himself  of  his  vicious  habits.  When  just  on  the  point  of 
resolving  to  renounce  them,  the  old  fascinations  and  false 
delights  dragged  him  back,  and  he  heard  low  voices  mur 
mur,  "  Do  you  mean  to  forsake  us  ?  From  this  moment 
forth  are  we  never,  never  more  to  be"  with  you?"  But  what 
was  it  that  finally,  after  so  fierce  a  struggle,  overcame  .the 
heart  of  the  saint  ?  What  won  that  heroic  soul  to  God  ? 
The  final  victory  was  due  to  the  reading  of  a  pious  book. 
To  this  is  to  be  attributed,  under  Almighty  God,  the  glory 
of  gaining  to  the  Chm-ch  so  renowned  a  doctor  and  saint.  It 


12  INTR  OD  UCTOR  Y. 

happened  that  whilst  Augustine  was  fighting  with  the  wild 
thoughts  that  filled  his  breast,  he  heard  a  voice  saying  to 
him,  "  Take  and  read."  He  obeyed  the  voice  ;  and  taking 
up  a  book  which  lay  near  him,  read  a  chapter  from  St.  Paul 
Shortly  after  the  dark  clouds  passed  away  from  his  mind, 
the  hardness  of  his  heart  yielded,  and  peace  and  calm  took 
possession  of  his  soul,  where  before  tumultuous  passions  and 
despair  were  striving  for  the  mastery.  The  chains  of  his 
bad  habits  were  broken  ;  he  gave  himself  up  without  re 
serve  to  God,  and  became  the  great  saint  who  is  admired  by 
all  the  world,  and  revered  upon  the  altars  of  the  Church, 
and  who  could  write  in  truth  : 

"  Who  neither  loves,  nor  seeks  for  Jesus'  love. 
His  soul  a  barren  desert  shall  remain ; 
And  life  will  prove 

To  him,  whate'er  its  joys,  but  life  in  vain. 

^^.H*    k  f 

"  To  live  for  Thee,  0  Lord !  alone  is  life ; 
To  live  without  Thee  were  at  once  to  die. 

;Twere  but  the  strife 
Of  aimless  folly  swiftly  passing  by. 

"  Most  Merciful !  to  Thee  I  give  anew 
The  life  and  understanding  which  I  owe ; 

That  Thou  art  true, 
And  wilt  that  life  restore,  by  faith  I  know. 

"  Believing,  I  will  love  Thee  and  adore, 
With  whom  I  hope  for  ever  to  remain  j 

Or,  could  I  more, 
In  endless  rest  and  blessedness  to  reign. 

"  What  soul,  unloving,  seeks  not  after  Thee  ? 
The  slave  of  sin  and  earthly  love  impure 

His  lot  shall  be 
The  helpless  thrall  which  guilty  men  endure. 


INTR  OD  UCTOR  r. 

"Oh !  may  this  bondage  never,  Lord,  be  mine; 
But  let  my  pilgrimage  securely  end 

Along  the  line 
Of  aspirations  pure,  which  heavenward  tend. 

"  My  soul,  in  this  her  exile,  longs  for  rest ; 
Be  that  to  her,  0  Lord !  for  which  she  longs— 

Softly  expressed 
In  contemplation  sweet,  or  grateful  songs. 

"  In  sorrow  or  in  joy,  when  tumults  swell, 
Grant  her  the  shelter  of  Thy  guardian  wing ; 

Do  Thou  compel 
A  calm,  from  whencesoe'er  the  tempests  spring. 

if  0  richest  Master  of  the  noblest  feast, 
And  bountiful  Dispenser  unto  all, 

Even  the  least, 
On  whom  the  mercies  of  Thy  goodness  fall  I 

"  Do  Thou  to  weary  souls  sweet  food  afford ; 
Thy  scattered  children  safely  gather  in ; 

0  loving  Lord ! 
Set  free  the  bound,  restore  the  lost  in  sin ! 

"  Lo !  at  the  door  a  wretched  wanderer  stands 
And  knocks.    0  brightest  day-spring  from  on  high  J 

Brightening  the  lauds 
Of  death  and  sin,  in  mercy  hear  his  cry  I 

ft  Open  !  and  let  this  craving  suppliant  in, 
That  freely  he  may  find  his  way  to  Thee, 

And  rest  from  sin, 
And  with  Thy  heavenly  food  refreshdd  be. 

li  For  Thou  of  life  the  bread  and  water  art, 
Of  light  eternal  the  eternal  Fount, 

The  living  heart 
Of  righteous  men  who  climb  the  heavenly  Mount." 


14  INTR  OD  UCTOR  T. 

So  great  is  the  power  of  pious  reading  k>  triumph  over 
the  hardest  hearts,  to  wean  them  from  earth,  make  them 
spiritual  and  holy,  and  convert  the  sons  of  darkness  into 
children  of  light. 

The  example  of  St.  Ignatius  of  Loyola,  who,  by  reading 
a  pious  book,  for  the  sake  of  driving  away  the  tedium  of  ;s 
distressing  illness,  was  converted  from  being  a  soldier  of  ;m 
earthly  king  into  a  soldier  of  the  King  of  heaven  and  earth, 
might  be  cited.  Or  that  of  St.  John  Colombino,  who,  by 
the  perusal  of  a  pious  book,  felt  so  thorough  a  change  of 
heart  that  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  world,  surrendered 
himself  entirely  to  God's  service,  and  became  the  leader  of 
a  great  troop  of  religious  men,  who  enrolled  themselves 
under  the  banner  of  the  Crucifiei. 

In  the  book  in  which  St.  Augustine  relates  the  story  of 
his  own  conversion,  he  also  gives  an  account  of  the  conver 
sion  of  two  gentlemen  attached  to  the  court  of  the  Emperor 
Theodosius.  These  two  gentlemen,  weary  of  the  noise  and 
bustle  of  the  court,  strolled  out  into  the  country  to  breathe 
a  calmer  atmosphere.  As  they  sauntered  on  they  came 
to  a  house  where  some  good  monks  were  living,  and  pass 
ing  the  entrance-gate,  they  walked  slowly  forward,  feeling  a 
sort  of  fascination  as  they  marked  the  poverty,  simplicity, 
silence,  and  peace  that  reigned  in  the  holy  abode,  and  the 
unaffected  took  of  happiness  that  shone  in  the  faces  of  the 
religious.  One  of  the  courtiers,  entering  a  monk's  cell, 
found  there  a  copy  of  the  life  of  St.  Anthony,  which,  out 
of  curiosity,  he  began  to  read.  As  he  read  on,  by  little  and 
little  he  felt  his  admiration  aroused  by  the  deeds  of  that 
holy  hermit,  and  his  own  heart  inflamed  with  the  desire  to 
follow  the  holy  example.  He  resolved  to  engage  himself  in 
the  like  course  of  life,  and  to  leave  the  world  for  the  sake  of 
giving  himself  up  unreservedly  to  the  service  of  God.  Carried 
away  by  the  ardent  zeal  of  these  holy  emotions,  the  courtier 
fixed  his  eyes  on  the  face  of  his  friend,  and  exclaimed: 


INTR  OD  UCTOR  r.  15 

"  What  is  it  that  we  hope  to  win  by  the  labors  in  which  we 
are  spending  our  lives  ?  Can  we  hope  to  do  more  than 
secure  the  friendship  of  Csesar  ?  And  even  in  this  how 
doubtful  is  our  success  !  How  many  risks  do  we  run  !  But 
if  I  wish  to  become  God's  friend,  in  the  act  of  forming  my 
wish  I  at  once  gain  it !  Ah  I 

"  <  What  is  human  life  below  f 

Passing  show, 

Vapor,  smoke,  and  fleeting  shade. 
Man,  when  few  short  years  have  flown, 

Is  cut  down, 
As  by  scythe  the  springing  blade, 

"  'Man  is  like  the  fragile  glass, 

Fading  grass  j 

Flower  whose  petals  soon  are  strewn — 
Ah !  how  quickly  reft  of  strength, 

When  at  length 
Death's  cold  wind  has  o'er  him  blown. 

" '  Youth,  to  which  we  may  compare 

Roses  fair, 

Pales,  and  must  its  charms  forego. 
All  that  men  of  pomp  or  state 

Highest  rate, 
Soon  shall  be  by  Death  laid  low. 

** '  Man's  the  mark  at  which  take  aim, 

Like  some  game, 

Darts  which  Death  unerring  plies ; 
Though  like  cedar  fair  outspread 

Soars  his  head, 
Felled  by  Death  he  lifeless  lies.1 " 

Thinking  thus,  he  fell  to  reading  again,  and  as  he  read 
he  felt  himself  deeply  moved  and  his  soul  changed.  He 
became  conscious  that  the  love  of  earth  and  earthly  things 
was  departing  from  his  heart.  At  length,  heaving  a  long 


16  INTRODUCTORY. 

and  deep-drawn  sigh,  lie  cried  :  "  0  my  friend  !  I  have  now 
broken  the  chain  which  bound  me  to  the  imperial  court. 
From  this  moment  I  make  up  my  mind  to  serve  God  alone ; 
and  that  you  may  believe  how  earnest  I  am  about  it,  this 
very  hour,  on  this  hallowed  spot,  I  shall  begin  to  put  my 
resolve  into  execution.  If,  however,  you  do  not  like  to 
follow  my  example,  I  beg  you  not  to  interfere  with  my 
design."  On  hearing  this  the  other  felt  his  own  heart 
respond  to  the  holy  emotions  which  his  friend  had  experi 
enced,  and  readily  offered  to  follow  him ;  and  the  two  that 
very  day,  without  any  interval  of  preparation,  consecrated 
themselves  to  God  in  that  sacred  cloister.  These  young 
courtiers,  moreover,  were  affianced  to  two  noble  ladies,  and 
though  they  loved  them  with  sincere  affection,  their  love 
had  no  power  to  shake  their  generous  resolve;  nay,  then 
example  made  such  an  impression  on  the  hearts  of  their 
intended  brides,  that  it  led  them  also  to  consecrate  them 
selves  to  God  by  a  vow  of  perpetual  virginity.  So  many 
souls  did  the  reading  of  one  pious  book  withdraw  from  a 
worldly  life  to  enter  on  the  pathway  of  sanctity. 

Devout  persons  never  want  a  spur  to  assiduous  reading  01 
meditation.  They  are  insatiable  in  this  exercise,  and,  ac 
cording  to  the  golden  motto  of  Thomas  a  Kempis,  thej 
find  their  chief  delight  "  in  a  closet  with  a  good  book." 

St.  Gregory  relates,  in  his  "Dialogues"  (lib.  iv.  cap.  14), 
that  a  poor  beggar  in  Rome,  named  Servulus,  used  to  lie  in 
the  porch  at  the  entrance  of  the  Church  of  St.  Clement. 
He  was  so  completely  paralyzed  that  he  was  not  only  unable 
to  stand  upright,  but  was  even  deprived  of  all  power  of 
turning  himself  from  side  to  side,  or  of  raising  his  hand  to 
his  mouth  to  take  the  necessary  food.  Of  the  alms  he  re 
ceived,  he  spent  part  upon  his  own  support,  and  part  he 
laid  aside  for  providing  food  and  shelter  for  the  poor  pil 
grims  whom  he  lodged  in  his  own  miserable  dwelling-place. 
He  was  most  eager  always  to  acquire  spiritual  books.  He 


INTR  OD  UCTOR  r.  1 7 

had  purchased  many  by  the  outlay  of  money  given  him  in 
alms  ;  for  he  took  from  the  food  that  supports  the  body  to 
supply  his  soul  with  the  nourishment  of  pious  reading 
And  as  the  poor  man  could  not  read  himself,  he  made  his 
lodgers  read  to  him.  By  means  of  these  pious  readings,  he 
acquired  an  extensive  Knowledge  of  spiritual  things,  and  a 
familiar  acquaintance  with  Holy  Scripture,  on  which  he 
used  to  discourse  with  great  judgment,  to  the  astonishment 
of  all  who  heard  him.  But,  better  far  than  this,  he  had  ac 
quired  an  invincible  patience,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  severe 
sufferings  was  always  thanking  the  Lord,  and  singing 
hymns  of  the  desire  of  God : 

"  I  know  not  what  I  could  desire 

Wert  Thou,  dear  Lord,  only  mine ; 
Wert  Thou  to  crown  my  soul  with  gladness, 
And  still  be  near  and  call  me  Thine. 

"  Lift  Thou  me  up,  Thou  gentle  Saviour  I 

Thou  art  my  all,  my  life  is  Thine ; 
Though  naught  of  earthly  hope  were  left  me, 
I  know  my  recompense  divine." 

Feeling  that  the  end  of  his  life  was  drawing  near,  he 
sent  for  some  of  his  friends  and  begged  them  to  recite  some 
psalms  with  him.  Whilst  the  psalms  were  being  recited, 
he  suddenly  made  a  sign  to  them  to  stop,  and  said,  "  Hark  ! 
Do  you  not  hear  how  all  heaven  is  ringing  with  music  and 
song  ?  "  And  with  these  words  he  gently  breathed  his  last. 
After  his  death,  that  lowly  dwelling-place  was  filled  with  a 
fragrance  so  heavenly  that  visitors  were  at  a  loss  to  describe 
its  sweetness.  St.  Gregory  ends  his  narrative  by  saying 
that  a  monk  of  his  monastery  had  been  present  at  the 
death  of  this  saintly  man,  and  that  he  could  not  help  shed 
ding  tears  in  relating  what  he  had  seen. 

The  great  eagerness  which  this  holy  sufferer  had  for  spir 
itual  reading  is  worthy  of  remark ;  as  also  the  excellent 


18  INTR  OD  UCTOR  r. 

fruits  of  sanctity  which  he  derived  from  it,  and  the  blessed 
death  which  by  its  practice  crowned  his  life.  But  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  spur  on  devout  Christians  to  assiduous  reading 
of  good  books.  It  is  the  worldly-minded  and  lukewarm 
Christians  that  stand  in  particular  need  of  this  powerful 

aid  to  virtue. 

The  world  is  a  whirlpool  of  business,  pleasure,  falsehood, 
and  sin.  Within  its  vortex  the  hearts  of  men  are  drawn,  to 
be  buried  for  ever  in  its  depths  unless  frequent  pious  read 
ing  and  meditation  on  holy  things  oppose  a  strong  bulwark 
to  its  waves.  "Hence  it  is  impossible,"  says  St.  John 
Chrysostom,  "  that  a  man  should  be  saved  who  neglects 
assiduous  pious  reading  or  consideration.  Handicraftsmen 
will  rather  suffer  hunger  and  all  other  hardships  than  lose 
the  instruments  of  their  trade,  which  they  know  to  be  the 
means  of  their  subsistence."  The  more  deeply,  then,  a 
person  is  immersed  in  the  tumultuous  cares  of  the  world, 
so  much  the  greater  ought  to  be  his  solicitude  to  find  leisure 
to  breathe,  after  the  fatigues  and  dissipation  of  business 
and  company ;  to  plunge  his  heart,  by  secret  prayer,  into  the 
ocean  of  the  divine  immensity,  and,  by  pious  reading,  to 
afford  his  soul  some  spiritual  refection,  as  the  wearied  hus 
bandman,  returning  from  his  labor,  recruits  his  spent  vigor 
and  exhausted  strength  by  allowing  his  body  necessary  re 
freshment  and  repose. 

I  have  published  several  books.  Their  perusal  has  been 
a  spiritual  refection  to  many  a  soul.  But  none  of  them  is 
so  well  calculated  to  nourish  and  strengthen  the  soul  as  the 
present  one.  All  persons  like  to  read  the  lives  of  great 
men.  But  they  probably  like  still  better  to  read  their  own 
lives.  The  well-known  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son  is  more  or 
less  the  life  of  all  of  us.  That  story  is  illustrated  in  this 
volume,  and  as  its  illustrations  are  but  chapters  in  our  own 
lives,  it  is  hoped  that  their  perusal  will  prove  as  pleasant  as 
it  may  be  profitable  to  those  prodigal  children  most  deeply 


INTR  OD  UCTOR  r.  19 

concerned  in  the  narrative,  who  have  abandoned  their  Fa 
ther's  household,  taken  up  their  abode  in  a  strange  and  far- 
off  land,  squandered  their  heavenly  inheritance,  and  in 
stead  of  the  Bread  of  Life  Hud  their  only  sustenance  in  the 
husks  of  swine. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  PRODIGAL  SOH. 

IN  a  far  country  there  lived,  many  years  ago,  a  cer 
tain  father  who  was  very  rich  and  liberal.  He  had 
Bheep  and  oxen  and  lands  in  abundance.  He  was  a  good 
man,  and  had  two  sons,  whom  he  loved  most  tenderly.  The 
elder  of  the  two  was  a  sensible  and  obedient  young  man ; 
but  the  younger  son  was  wild,  disobedient,  and  reckless. 
He  associated  with  bad  companions,  stayed  out  late  at 
night,  and  spent  his  time  in  gambling,  drinking,  and  de 
bauchery.  The  good  father  was  very  much  grieved  at  the 
conduct  of  this  son.  Again  and  again  he  warned  him,  he 
entreated  him  to  forsake  his  wicked  companions,  he  even 
had  recourse  to  harsh  words  and  chastisement;  but  all 
was  of  no  avail,  the  young  man  was  incorrigible.  His 
companions  often  said  to  him:  "How  foolish  are  you  to 
allow  your  father  to  treat  you  thus  !  Take  your  inheritance 
and  leave  him.  You  will  then  be  your  own  master,  to  go 
wherever  and  do  whatever  you  please."  The  foolish  youth 
was  base  enough  to  follow  this  infamous  advice.  He  went 
to  his  father  and  said  :  "I  cannot  remain  here  any  longer  ; 
I  do  not  want  to  be  always  treated  as  if  I  were  a  child. 
Give  me  my  portion  of  the  inheritance  ;  I  am  now  old 
enough  to  take  care  of  myself."  "My  child,"  cried  the 
father,  in  heart-broken  accents,  "  what  have  I  done  to  you 
that  you  treat  me  thus  ?  Why  do  you  abandon  me  ?  Is 
this  the  reward  of  my  love  ?"  But  the  son,  insensible  to 
his  father's  sorrow,  only  said  :  "  Give  me  my  inheritance  ; 
I  will  not  remain  here  longer." 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  21 

The  good  man,  seeing  the  blind  obstinacy  of  his  son,  gave 
him  his  portion  of  the  inheritance,  and  said  :  "  My  dear 
son,  since  you  will  not  listen  to  the  voice  of  your  father- 
since  you  will  not  stay  with  me  any  longer — take,  then,  your 
inheritance  ;  I  desire  not  to  make  you  unhappy.  You  think 
that  those  wicked  companions  love  you.  As  soon  as  they 
have  squandered  all  your  money,  they  will  turn  their  backs 
upon  you  and  abandon  you.  While  as  yet  you  were  a  help 
less  babe  in  the  cradle,  I  laid  aside  this  inheritance  for  you. 
Then  you  slept  in  my  arms  and  called  me  by  the  sweet 
name  of  'father.'  Then  you  were  pure  and  innocent. 
Woe  is  me  !  that  I  have  lived  to  see  this  day  when  the  child 
of  my  heart  forsakes  me  for  a  set  of  libertines.  Can  you  so 
soon  forget  a  father's  love  ?  What  more  could  I  do  for  you 
than  I  have  done  ?  Will  you  leave  this  happy  home  where 
you  were  born  ?  The  very  walls  that  have  so  often  heard 
my  sighs  and  prayers  for  you  will  tell  you  how  much  I 
love  you  I  Stay  with  me  but  a  little,  till  my  eyes  are  closed 
in  death,  and  then  depart  in  peace  !  " 

The  good  father  talked  to  a  heart  of  stone.  His  son  had 
become  a  slave  to  the  vice  of  impurity,  and  impurity  de 
stroys  every  noble  feeling  and  makes  the  heart  more  cruel 
and  pitiless  than  a  tiger's.  The  unnatural  son  took  the 
money  and  hastened  away. 

*  Proud,  carnal,  vain,  devotionless, 
Of  God  above  or  hell  below 
He  took  no  thought  j  but,  undismayed, 
Pursued  his  course  of  wickedness. 
His  heart  was  rock ;  he  never  prayed 
To  be  forgiven  for  all  his  treasons ; 
He  only  said  at  certain  seasons, 
'  0  Father,  Lord  of  mercy ! ' " 

After  he  had  quitted  his  father's  house,  he  went  far  away 
to  a  strange  country.  He  wished  to  go  as  far  as  possible 
from  his  father,  in  order  that  he  might  gratify  the  wicked 


22  THE  PRODIGAL  /SON. 

desires  of  his  heart  without  any  fear  of  reproach.  He  cast 
himself  headlong  into  the  most  shameful  excesses.  Day 
after  day,  night  after  night,  he  spent  in  drinking,  gam 
bling,  and  debauchery.  He  passed  his  time  and  squandered 
his  money  in  the  company  of  those  lost  creatures — the 
disgrace  of  their  sex,  whose  life  is  dishonor,  and  whose  end 
is  eternal  torment. 

"  Years  rolled,  and  found  him  still  the  same- 
Still  draining  pleasure's  poison-bowl; 
Yet  felt  he  now  and  then  some  shame ; 
The  torment  of  the  undying  worm 
At  whiles  woke  in  his  trembling  soul ; 
And  then,  though  powerless  to  reform, 
Would  he,  in  hope  to  appease  that  sternest 
Avenger,  cry,  and  more  in  earnest, 
1 0  Father,  Lord  of  mercy ! '  " 

At  last  the  spendthrift  had  squandered  all  his  wealth, 
and  was  himself  reduced  to  the  most  abject  poverty.  He 
called  upon  his  former  friends  to  help  him.  He  thought 
that  those  who  had  been  his  faithful  companions  during 
the  days  of  his  prosperity  would  not  abandon  him  in  his 
sore  distress.  He  visited  them  one  after  the  other,  but 
was  everywhere  received  with  coldness  and  contempt.  No 
one  assisted  him,  no  one  pitied  him.  At  last  he  tried  to 
find  some  employment ;  but  as  he  was  not  accustomed  to 
labor,  and  as  his  licentious  character  was  well  known,  no 
one  was  willing  to  hire  him.  Besides,  a  great  many  were 
out  of  employment  at  the  time.  The  poor  were  dying  of 
hunger.  There  was  a  great  famine  in  the  country,  and 
this  unhappy  young  man  was  often  faint  with  hunger.  At 
last,  as  he  could  get  nothing  else  to  do,  he  hired  himself 
to  a  rich  farmer,  and  was  appointed  to  herd  the  swine. 

What  a  shameful  degradation  !  He  was  the  beloved  of 
his  father.  He  who  had  been  clothed  in  purple  and  fine 
linen,  who  had  had  numerous  servants  to  wait  on  him,  who 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  S3 

had  lived  in  abundance,  whose  every  wish  had  been  gratified, 
was  now  become  a  degraded  slave,  a  wretched  swineherd  ] 
He  was  barefoot  and  bareheaded,  dressed  in  tattered  gar 
ments  ;  and  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  hunger  he  had  to  eat 
of  the  husks  of  swine.  "  Ah  !  "  he  cries  in  his  sore  distress, 
"  even  the  very  servants  in  my  father's  house  have  food  in 
abundance,  and  here  am  I,  his  son,  dying  of  hunger  ! " 

"  At  last  youth's  riotous  time  was  gone, 
And  loathing  great  came  after  sin. 
With  locks  yet  brown,  he  felt  as  one 
Grown  gray  at  heart ;  and  oft  with  tears 
He  tried,  but  all  in  vain,  to  win 
From  the  dark  desert  of  bis  years 
One  flower  of  hope ;  yet  morn  and  evening 
He  still  cried,  but  with  deeper  meaning, 
'  0  Father,  Lord  of  mercy ! ' " 

As  the  unhappy  young  man  sat  there  alone,  abandoned 
and  despised  by  every  one,  and  dying  of  hunger,  he  entered 
into  himself  at  last.  He  began  to  think  of  the  past,  and 
how  happy  he  had  been  in  his  father's  house.  The  thought 
of  his  home,  of  his  kind  father,  filled  him  with  remorse, 
"Fool  that  I  was  !"  he  cried  ;  "had  I  taken  my  father's 
advice,  I  would  now  be  happy.  Here  I  am  treated  as  the 
vilest  slave  ;  I  am  dying  of  hunger.  The  very  dogs  at  my 
father's  table  fare  better  than  his  son  does  here.  I  will 
leave  this  wretched  place ;  I  will  arise  and  go  back  to  my 
father.  Perhaps  he  will  forgive  me.  I  know  that  I  have 
pained  his  heart.  I  know  that  I  do  not  deserve  his  forgive 
ness.  I  know  that  I  have  not  behaved  like  a  good  son  ;  yet, 
in  spite  of  all,  my  father's  love  for  me  is  not  dead.  His 
heart  will  plead  for  me  far  more  powerfully  than  I  can 
plead  for  myself.  As  soon  as  I  call  him  by  the  endearing 
name  of  father,  he  will  be  moved  with  compassion.  I  will 
go  without  fear  and  say  to  him  :  "  Father,  I  have  sinned 


2 I  THE  PRODIGAL  SON. 

against  heaven  and  before  thee.  I  am  not  worthy  to  be 
called  thy  child ;  but  forgive  me,  and  receive  me  at  least  as 
one  of  thy  servants." 

He  rose  up  to  return  to  his  father.  But  the  tempter 
stood  beside  him  and  said  :  "  What  are  you  doing  ?  Yon 
cannot  go  back  to  your  father  in  that  plight.  You  are  all 
in  rags.  Your  father  will  be  ashamed  of  you  ;  he  will  not 
own  you.  Besides,  the  distance  is  too  great.  You  will  lose 
your  way.  You  will  be  attacked  by  robbers  and  wild  beasts. 
Moreover,  you  are  now  too  weak  and  sickly;  you  will  faint 
and  die  on  the  way.  Wait  yet  a  few  days  longer.  This 
famine  will  not  last  always.  You  will  have  better  times  by 
and  by.  If  you  go  back  to  your  father,  you  will  be  scolded 
and  treated  even  more  harshly  than  before.  If  you  go  back 
now,  every  one  will  say  that  you  are  a  coward." 

In  spite  of  all  these  devilish  suggestions,  the  young  man 
made  up  his  mind  to  return  to  his  father,  no  matter  what 
it  would  cost.  He  was  sorry  for  what  he  had  done,  and 
was  determined  to  make  reparation  to  the  best  of  his  power. 

"  A  happier  mind,  a  holier  mood 
A  purer  spirit,  ruled  him  now ; 
No  more  in  thrall  to  flesh  and  blood, 
He  took  a  pilgrim-staff  in  hand, 
Though  under  no  religious  vow, 
Travailed  his  way  to  fatherland, 
To  live  as  if  in  an  humble  cloister, 
Exclaiming,  while  his  eyes  grew  moister, 
'  0  Father,  Lord  of  mercy  1 '  " 

His  loving  father  was  anxiously  awaiting  his  return. 
Day  after  day  this  good  man  went  out  and  looked  about 
in  every  direction  to  see  if  his  son  was  coming.  Day  after 
day  he  wept  and  prayed  for  his  lost  son.  Whilst  sorrowing 
and  praying  thus,  he  noticed  some  one  in  the  distance  com 
ing  towards  the  house.  The  stranger  was  evidently  poor 
and  weary.  He  came  on  slowly  with  tottering  steps.  The 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  25 

quick  eye  of  the  father  instantly  recognized  in  that  tattered 
form,  in  the  pale  and  haggard  face,  his  long-lost  son.  With 
a  wild  cry  of  joy,  he  rushed  forward  to  meet  him.  The  re 
pentant  son  fell  on  his  knees,  and  with  heart-broken  accents 
cried  out,  "  0  father  !  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and 
before  thee  ;  forgive — "  But  the  father  would  not  suffer 
him  to  continue.  He  had  already  forgiven  everything.  He 
threw  his  arms  around  the  neck  of  the  prodigal ;  he  kissed 
him  again  and  again,  whilst  tears  of  joy  streamed  down  his 
aged  cheeks.  In  an  instant  the  glad  tidings  had  spread 
everywhere  that  the  lost  son  had  returned  at  last.  "  Go," 
cried  the  glad  father  to  the  servants — "  go,  bring  the  most 
costly  robes,  and  put  a  precious  ring  upon  his  finger,  and 
let  us  rejoice  and  make  merry,  and  prepare  a  great  feast ; 
for  my  son  that  was  dead  is  living  again,  and  my  child  that 
was  lost  so  long  is  found  at  last  !  " 

The  rich,  liberal,  and  most  kind-hearted  father  in  this 
story  represents  God  the  Father,  our  Lord  and  Creator. 

The  prodigal  represents  all  those  who,  in  the  blind  pur 
suit  of  the  riches,  pleasures,  and  honors  of  this  world,  have 
lost  sight  of  the  noble  end  for  which  God  created  them, 
and  have  forfeited  the  grace  and  friendship  of  Almighty 
God  by  mortal  sin.  The  unhappy  condition  of  the  prodi 
gal,  deprived  of  all  human  aid  and  comfort,  represents 
vividly  to  our  mind  the  unhappy  condition  of  those  who 
live  in  the  state  of  mortal  sin.  The  untiring  efforts  of  the 
prodigal  to  return  to  his  father's  house  serve  as  a  model  to 
all  those  who  have  abandoned  God,  and  sincerely  wish  to  be 
received  again  into  the  friendship  of  their  Heavenly  Father. 
The  manner  in  which  the  prodigal  was  received  by  his 
father  represents  the  manner  in  which  God,  in  His  infinite 
mercy,  receives  every  repentant  sinner.  The  prodigal's  com . 
panions  represent  all  those  who  live  in  sin,  delay  their  con 
version  until  too  late,  and  at  last  die  impenitent.  The  good 
brother  of  the  prodigal  represents  all  those  who  to  the  end 


26  THE  PRODIGAL  SON. 

of  their  lives  overcome  the  temptations  of  this  world,  the 
devil  and  the  flesh,  and  bear  the  crosses  and  afflictions 
of  this  life  with  patience,  in  the  firm  hope  that  God 
will  reward  them  in  heaven  for  their  faithfulness  in  Hie 
service. 


CHAPTER  III. 

GOD,    THE   FATHER   OF   MANKIND. 

O  T.  AUGUSTINE,  the  great  Bishop  of  Hippc,  while  walk- 
^  ing  on  the  sea-shore  one  day,  was  thinking  about  the 
greatness  of  the  riches  of  Almighty  God.  As  he  went 
along,  he  saw  a  little  child  sitting  by  the  sea.  The  child 
had  a  small  spoon  in  its  hand,  which  it  was  dipping  into 
the  sea.  St.  Augustine,  observing  the  action  of  the  child, 
said  :  "  Why  do  you  dip  that  spoon  into  the  water  ?"  The 
child  answered  :  "I  want  to  empty  all  the  water  out  of  the 
sea."  "  But,"  said  St.  Augustine,  "  it  is  useless  for  you  to 
try  to  empty  the  great  sea  with  that  little  spoon.  If  you 
were  to  work  for  ever,  you  could  not  do  it."  The  child  then 
said  :  "  I  am  an  angel  from  heaven,  and  God  has  sent  me  to 
tell  you  that  it  would  be  easier  for  me  to  empty  the  sea  with 
this  little  spoon  than  for  you  to  understand  all  about  the 
greatness  of  the  riches  of  Almighty  God." 

To  say  that  God  is  greater  than  the  heavens,  than  all 
kings,  all  saints,  all  angels,  is  indeed  to  form  no  measure  of 
His  greatness,  but  to  fall  infinitely  below  it.  God  is  great 
ness  itself,  and  the  sum  of  our  conception  of  His  greatness 
is  but  an  atom  compared  to  the  reality. 

"  What  know  I  when  I  know  thee,  0  my  God  ? 
Not  corporal  beauty,  nor  the  limb  of  snow, 
Nor  of  loved  light  the  white  and  pleasant  flow, 
Nor  manna  showers,  nor  strains  that  stream  abroad, 
Nor  flowers  of  heaven,  nor  small  stars  of  the  sod — 
Not  these,  my  God,  I  know,  who  know  Thee  so. 
Yet  know  I  something  sweeter  than  I  know ; 
A  certain  Light  on  a  more  golden  road, 

87 


28  GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND. 

A  Something  not  of  nianna  nor  the  hive, 
A  Beauty  not  of  summer  or  the  spring, 
A  Scent,  a  Music,  and  a  Blossoming, 
Eternal,  timeless,  placeless,  without  gyve, 
Fair,  fadeless,  undiminisbed,  never  dim — 
This,  this  is  what  I  know  in  knowing  Him." 

David,  contemplating  the  divine  greatness,  and  seeing 
< .hat  he  could  not  and  never  would  be  able  to  comprehend 
it,  could  only  exclaim,  "  0  Lord  !  who  is  like  unto  Thee  ?"  * 
0  Lord  !  what  greatness  shall  ever  be  found  like  to  thine  ? 
And  how,  in  truth,  could  David  understand  it,  since  his  un 
derstanding  was  finite  and  the  greatness  of  God  is  infinite  ? 
"  Great  is  the  Lord,  and  of  His  greatness  there  is  no  end."  f 
To  form  some  idea  of  God's  greatness,  let  us  remember  that 
although  this  world  of  ours  is  only  one  of  a  vast  system  of 
planets,  yet  it  is  twenty-seven  thousand  miles  in  circumfer 
ence,  and  it  would  take  two  years  and  a  half  to  traverse  it 
completely  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles  a  day. 

The  sun,  being  nearly  three  millions  of  miles  in  circum 
ference,  could  not  be  traversed  at  the  same  rate  of  speed  in 
less  than  two  hundred  and  seventy-four  years ;  yet  this  sun, 
so  immeasurably  greater  than  our  universe,  is  supposed  to 
be  immeasurably  less  than  certain  of  the  fixed  stars.  Let  us 
reflect,  again,  that  the  sun  is  distant  from  us  at  least  ninety- 
five  millions  of  miles.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  in  the 
mind  so  vast  a  space.  Yet  there  are  planets  twenty  times 
further  removed  from  us  than  the  sun  ;  and  even  their  dis 
tance  is  nothing,  humanly  speaking,  in  comparison  with 
that  of  the  fixed  stars.  The  light  of  some  of  those  stars, 
according  to  the  opinion  of  astronomers,  has  not  yet  reached 
us,  although  it  has  been  travelling  towards  us  at  the  rate 
of  twelve  millions  of  miles  a  minute  since  the  creation  of  the 
world.  And  each  of  those  stars  is  the  centre  of  a  planetary 
system  vastly  greater  than  our  own. 

*  Pa.  xxxiv.  10.  f  Ps.  cxliv.  «. 


THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND.  29 

Now,  what  are  tliosc  millions  of  worlds  that  bewilder  cal 
culation  or  even  conception  when  compared  to  God,  their 
wonderful  Maker?  "  Do  I  not  fill  heaven  and  earth,  saith 
the  Lord  ?  "  *  Thus  all  of  us,  according  to  our  mode  of  un 
derstanding,  are  nothing  but  so  many  miserable  atoms  ex 
isting  in  this  immense  ocean  of  the  essence  of  the  Godhead. 
"In  Him  we  live,  move,  and  be."  f 

All  men,  all  the  momirchs  of  the  earth,  and  even  all  thu 
saints  and  angels  of  heaven,  confronted  with  the  infinite 
greatness  of  God,  are  like  or  even  smaller  than  a  grain  of 
sand  in  comparison  with  the  earth.  **  Behold,"  says  the 
Prophet  Isaias,  "  the  Gentiles  are  as  a  drop  of  a  bucket,  and 
are  counted  as  the  smallest  grain  of  a  balance ;  behold,  the 
islands  are  as  little  dust.  All  nations  are  before  Him  as  if 
they  had  no  being  at  all."  J 

It  is  an  utter  impossibility  for  any  human  or  angelic  un 
derstanding  to  conceive  an  adequate  idea  of  the  greatness 
of  God. 

"  First  and  Last  of  faith's  receiving, 
Source  and  Sea  of  man's  believing ; 
God,  whose  might  is  all  potential, 
God,  whose  truth  is  Truth's  essential, 
Good  supreme  in  Thy  subsisting, 
Good  in  all  Thy  seen  existing ; 
Over  all  things,  all  things  under, 
Touching  all,  from  all  asunder ; 
Centre  Thou,  but  not  intruded, 
Compassing,  and  yet  included ; 
Over  all,  and  not  ascending, 
Under  all,  but  not  depending ; 
Over  all,  the  world  ordaining, 
Under  all,  the  world  sustaining ; 
All  without,  in  all  surrounding, 
All  within,  in  grace  abounding ; 

*  Jerem.  xxiii.  24.  \  Acts  xvii.  28.  t  Isaias  xi.  15, 17. 


30  GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND. 

Inmost,  yet  not  comprehended, 
Outer  still,  and  not  extended ; 
Over,  yet  on  nothing  founded, 
Under,  but  by  space  unbounded ; 
Omnipresent,  yet  indwelling, 
Self-impelled,  the  world  impelling 
Force  nor  fate's  predestination 
Sways  Thee  to  one  alteration  j 
Ours  to-day,  Thyself  for  ever, 
Still  commencing,  ending  never ; 
Past  with  Thee  is  time's  beginning, 
Present  all  its  future  winning  j 
With  Thy  counsel's  first  ordaining 
Comes  Thy  counsel's  last  attaining; 
One  the  light's  first  radiance  darting 
And  the  elements'  departing." 

But  God  is  not  only  infinite  in  greatness,  he  is  also  infinite 
in  liberality.  To  understand  this  in  some  measure,  we 
must  remember  that  the  First  Person  of  the  Holy  Trinity  is 
called  God  the  Father.  Now,  what  do  we  principally  con 
sider  and  admire  in  a  father  ?  It  is  his  great  yearning  to 
communicate  himself  and  all  his  goods,  as  far  as  possible, 
to  his  children.  This  yearning  of  communicating  himself 
and  all  his  goods  in  our  Heavenly  Father  is  infinite — it  is 
essential  to  His  nature.  This  yearning  culminates  in  the 
reproduction,  or  in  the  generating,  of  its  own  image. 
Hence,  God,  as  Father,  eternally  generates  another  self, 
who  is  His  Son,  His  most  perfect  image.  He,  together  with 
His  Son,  sends  forth  a  third  self,  proceeding  from  both, 
who  is  their  reciprocal  Love — the  Holy  Ghost — so  that  the 
one  and  the  same  divine  Essence  is  quite  the  same  in  each 
of  the  three  divine  Persons. 

•'  Of  the  Highest  generated, 
And  not  by  His  Sire  created, 
From  before  all  time  the  Word 


GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKINL*  31 

One  God  with  the  Father  reigned, 
By  the  right  to  Him  pertained, 
And  by  gift  of  none  conferred. 
Father  One  in  Gospel-story, 
One  the  First -Begotten's  glory, 
One  the  Holy  Ghost's  procession — 
Three,  but  one  to  faith's  confession, 
Each  Himself  is  God  alonely, 
Yet  not  three,  but  one  God  only. 
In  this  oneness,  worshipped  truly, 
Three  in  one  I  worship  duly  j 
In  their  persons  ever  Three, 
In  their  substance  Unity ; 
None  of  whom  is  less  than  other, 
None  is  greater  than  another ; 
In  each  one  no  variation, 
Into  each  no  transmutation ; 
Each  is  God,  and  yet  no  blending, 
Everlasting,  without  ending." 

But  as  God  the  Father  cannot  multiply  His  infinitely 
simple  divine  essence,  the  infinite  love  which  He  bears  to 
Himself  prompted  Him  to  the  creation  of  things,  which 
exist  by  Him  and  in  Him,  and  yet  are  not  Himself.  He 
made  them  that  He  might  lavish  upon  them  His  perfections 
to  a  certain  degree.  To  some  of  these  creatures  He  gave  a 
rational  spirit — to  angels  and  men.  Upon  them  He  lavished 
His  perfections  in  a  more  special  manner.  He  created  man 
according  to  His  own  image  and  likeness. 

God  the  Father  having  begotten  from  all  eternity  His 
only  Son,  a  perfect  image  of  His  own  substance,  and  equal 
to  Himself  in  all  things,  He  wished  also  to  form  another 
image  and  likeness  of  Himself — a  likeness  as  perfect  as 
created  nature  could  permit ;  and  wishing  this,  he  created 
the  human  soul. 

God  created  the  heavens.  He  adorned  the  firmament 
with  sun  and  moon  and  planets ;  yet,  to  bring  into  being  all 


32  GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND. 

this  wondrous  work  of  wisdom  and  power,  but  one  word 
was  needed  :  God  said,  "  Fiat"— "  Be  it  done"— and  all 
was  done. 

God  created  the  earth  ;  He  clothed  it  with  herbs  and  trees 
and  flowers ;  and  for  all  this  work  of  wisdom  and  beauty 
but  one  act  of  the  divine  will  was  needed.  God  willed  that 
it  should  be  done,  and  it  was  done. 

But  when  God  created  the  immortal  soul— that  most 
stupendous  of  His  works — He  employed  far  different  lan 
guage.  He  no  longer  said,  "  Be  it  done."  The  three  divine 
Persons  of  the  ever-adorable  Trinity  seem  to  unite  in 
council.  They  say  :  "Let  us  make  man  in  our  own  image 
and  likeness." 

We  should  remember  this  :  that  our  soul  is  the  work  of 
the  power,  the  wisdom,  and  the  love  of  the  three  adorable 
Persons  of  the  Blessed  Trinity.  Our  soul  has  come  forth 
from  the  unutterable  love  of  God's  heart.  God  is  present 
entire  in  the  whole  world,  and  in  every  part  of  the  world ; 
and  the  soul  of  man  is  present  entire  in  his  whole  body, 
and  in  every  -part  of  his  body.  The  soul  is  a  spirit  like 
God,  it  is  one  like  God,  it  is  indivisible  like  God,  it  is 
immortal  like  God. 

The  soul  is  not  like  those  things  which  can  be  seen  by  the 
eye.  No  rational  being  ever  said,  "  I  saw  my  soul,"  because 
the  soul  is  a  spirit,  which  is  not  visible  to  the  eyes  of  the 
body.  The  soul  does  not  wear  away  like  things  in  this 
world.  It  does  not  fade  like  a  flower  or  like  the  colors  of 
the  rainbow.  Hence  we  say  the  soul  is  immortal.  That 
means  it  will  never  die  as  the  body  dies.  The  soul  will  not 
be  nailed  down  in  a  coffin  or  buried  in  a  grave.  When  the 
body  dies,  the  soul  will  go  out  of  this  world  to  God,  who 
made  it. 

We  are  created  to  live  for  ever.  It  is  true  we  must  die ; 
but  it  is  only  our  body  that  is  doomed  to  the  grave,  and 
that  only  for  a  time.  Death  does  not  destroy  us  ;  it  sepx- 


GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND.  33 

rates  only  the  soul  from  the  body  for  a  certain  number  of 
years.     Hence  a  Christian  poet  exclaimed  : 

"  Cease,  ye  tearful  mourners ! 

Thus  your  hearts  to  rend  j 
Death  is  life's  beginning, 
Rather  than  its  end. 

"  All  the  grave's  adornments 

What  do  they  declare, 
Save  that  the  departed 
Are  but  sleeping  there  ? 

'  What  though  now  to  darkness 

We  this  body  give  I 

Soon  shall  all  its  senses 

Reawake  and  live. 

"  Earth,  to  thy  fond  bosom 
We  this  pledge  entrust ; 
Oh !  we  pray  be  careful 
Of  the  precious  dust. 

"  Here  Eternal  Wisdom 

Lately  made  His  home, 
And  again  will  claim  it 
For  the  days  to  come, 

"  When  thou  must  this  body 

Bone  for  bone  restore, 
Every  single  feature 
Perfect  as  before." 

Ah  !  yes,  after  awhile  Almighty  God  will  raise  us  agara 
to  life,  that  we  may  hear  our  eternal  fate.  This  is  the  in 
fallible  doctrine  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  "  Wonder  not 
at  this,"  He  says,  "  for  the  hour  cometh  wherein  all  that  are 
in  the  graves  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God.  And 
they  that  have  done  good  things,  shall  come  forth  unto  the 


34  GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND. 

resurrection  of  life ;  but  they  that  have  done  evil,  unto  the 
resurrection  of  judgment."*  This  resurrection  of  the 
body  will  take  place,  as  St.  Paul  assures  us,  "  in  a  moment, 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  at  the  last  trumpet :  for  the 
trumpet  shall  sound,  and  the  dead  shall  rise  again  incor 
ruptible."  f 

Our  life,  therefore,  is  not  finished  at  the  grave.  We  shall 
be  for  ever  either  in  heaven  or  in  hell.  The  infidel  or  great 
sinner  may  ridicule  and  deny  this  doctrine.  But  what  will 
the  denial  of  this  truth  avail  him  ?  It  avails  him  just  as 
little  as,  nay,  even  less  than,  it  would  avail  a  robber  or  a 
murderer  to  say,  "  I  do  not  believe  either  in  the  existence 
of  a  policeman  who  can  take  me  prisoner,  or  of  a  judge 
who  can  sentence  me  to  death. " 

The  man  who  denies  his  eternal  existence  is  a  liar.  His 
lies  will  not  change  the  decrees  of  the  Almighty  ;  they  will 
not  restrain  the  power  of  God  ;  they  will  not  prevent  our 
Lord  from  carrying  out  his  threats.  Let  the  infidel  say, 
"  I  do  not  believe  in  hell,  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul "  ; 
his  disbelief  will  not  save  him  from  the  eternal  flames  oi 
hell,  diminish  the  intensity  of  that  fire,  nor  shorten  its 
duration. 

"What,"  exclaims  St.  Paul,  "if  some  of  them  have  not 
believed  ?  Shall  their  unbelief  make  the  faith  of  God  with 
out  effect  ?  God  forbid.  But  God  is  true  and  every  man  is 
a  liar.  "  J  Will  the  sun  shine  less  brilliantly  because  a  man 
shuts  his  eyes,  in  order  that  he  may  not  see  its  light  ?  And 
will  God  and  all  the  truths  he  has  revealed  be  less  true  be 
cause  an  infidel,  a  great  sinner,  denies  his  truths  ? 

Reason  acknowledges  the  immortality  of  the  soul ;  revela 
tion  speaks  of  it  explicitly,  and  of  the  resurrection  of  the 
body,  of  the  immortality  and  eternity  of  our  whole  being. 
"  I  believe  the  resurrection  of  the  body  and  life  everlast 
ing."  "And  these  shall  go  into  everlasting  punishment 

*  John  v.  28,  29.  +1  Cor.  xv.  52.  *  Rom.  iii.  3. 


OOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MAX  KIND.  35 

but  the  just,  into  life  everlasting."  *  This  is  the  unchange 
able  decree  of  the  Almighty.  **  My  counsel,"  says  He, 
"  shall  stand."  f 

"  Oh !  say  not  that  we  die ! 
Say  not  that  wo,  whose  heaveu-born  souls  inherit 

Their  life  from  Life,  can  ever  pass  away  ; 
That  we,  whose  source  is  the  Eternal  Spirit, 

Can  yield  what  is  from  God  to  slow  decay." 

After  a  time,  in  which  everything  passes  away,  man  shall 
enter  upon  an  eternity  in  which  nothing  passes  away.  The 
heavens  and  the  earth  will  pass,  but  God  and  the  soul  shall 
remain  for  ever.  It  has  been  decreed  by  God  that  eternity 
should  be  closely  united  to  man's  being,  as  it  is  to  His  own 
God  and  man  shall  live  for  ever. 

When  Jesus  was  alive  on  the  earth,  there  was  a  certain 
man  called  Jairus.  He  had  an  only  daughter,  a  girl  twelve 
years  old.  This  girl  was  dying.  Jairns  went  to  Jesus.  He 
fell  down  on  his  knees  before  Him,  and  asked  Him  to  come 
and  cure  his  daughter.  While  Jairus  was  there,  somebody 
came  to  him  and  told  him  that  his  daughter  was  dead  !  Je 
sus  heard  this,  and  He  said  to  Jairus:  "Do  not  be  afraid  ; 
only  believe,  and  your  daughter  shall  be  safe."  So  Jesus 
went  with  Jairus  to  his  house.  They  found  people  crying 
round  the  dead  girl.  Jesus  told  all  the  people  to  go  out  of 
the  room  except  the  father  and  mother  of  the  girl,  and  His 
apostles.  Then  Jesus,  who  is  almighty,  took  hold  of  the 
hand  of  the  dead  child,  and  said,  "  Girl,  I  say  to  thee, 
arise  ! "  As  soon  as  Jesns  had  said  these  words,  her  soul 
came  back,  and  she  rose  up  and  walked  !J  You  see  how  it 
was.  The  body  died.  But  the  Scripture  says  the  soul 
came  back  from  the  other  world ;  so  the  soul  did  not  die 
with  the  body. 

We  have,  then,  a  soul  which  is  like  God,  which  can  sum 
*  Matt.  xxv.  48.  t  Isai.  xlvi    10  t  Luke  viii. 


'36  GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MAX  KIND. 

mon  before  it,  in  its  thoughts,  the  past,  the  present,  and  the 
future;  which  can  think  and  reason;  which  can  will  ami 
choose  whether  it  will  do  good  or  evil.  "Before  man  is 
life  and  doath,  good  and  evil;  that  which  he  shall  choose 
shall  he  given  him."  * 

Boleslaus  IV.,  King  of  Poland,  used  to  wear  .around  his 
neck  a  golden  medal  that  bore  the  image  of  his  father 
stamped  on  it.  Whenever  he  was  about  to  do  anything  of 
importance,  he  took  the  medal  in  his  hand,  gazed  at  it  with 
tearful  eyes,  and  said,  "  0  dearly-beloved  father  !  may  I  never 
do  anything  unworthy  of  thy  royal  name."  Men  glory  in 
the  nobility  of  their  ancestry.  They  point  with  pride  to 
the  portraits  of  their  forefathers  who  were  renowned  for 
their  bravery,  their  wisdom,  and  their  virtues.  Men  are  hon 
ored  because  of  the  nobility  of  their  origin.  But  if  nobility 
of  origin  be  esteemed  an  honor,  what  shall  be  said  of  the 
soul,  whose  origin  is  the  noblest  and  most  exalted  that  can 
be  conceived  ?  Even  the  proudest  on  earth  is  born  of  man  ; 
but  the  soul  is  born  of  God.  St.  Paul  says,  "  AVe  are  his 
offspring."  f  The  soul  came  forth  as  an  ardent  sigh  of  love 
from  the  intensely  loving  heart  of  God.  It  was  God  Him 
self,  the  King  of  kings,  the  God  of  infinite  majesty  and 
glory,  who  breathed  into  the  face  of  Adam  the  breath  of 
life,  the  living  soul.  Your  soul  and  the  soul  of  the  meanest 
beggar  are  the  image  and  likeness  of  God,  the  living  ex 
pression  of  a  divine  idea  treasured  up  in  the  mind  of  God 
from  an  eternity  that  knows  no  beginning. 

The  divine  love  for  man  was  extreme,  as  it  had  been  from 
all  eternity.  But  it  was  only  when  the  Son  of  God  showed 
Himself  a  little  one  in  a  stable,  on  a  bundle  of  straw,  that 
the  love  of  God  truly  appeared.  From  the  beginning  of 
the  world  men  had  seen  the  power  of  God  in  the  creation 
and  His  wisdom  in  the  government  of  the  world  ;  but  only 
in  the  Incarnation  of  the  Word  was  it  seen  how  great  was 

*  Ecclus.  xv  i  Acts  xvii.  28. 


GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND.  3? 

His  love  for  man.  Before  God  was  seen  made  man  upon 
earth,  men  could  not  form  an  idea  of  the  divine  goodness ; 
therefore  did  He  take  mortal  flesh,  that,  appearing  as  man, 
He  might  make  plain  to  men  the  greatness  of  His  benignity. 

Alexander  the  Great,  after  he  had  conquered  Darius  and 
subdued  Persia,  wished  to  gain  the  affections  of  thatpeople, 
and  accordingly  went  about  dressed  in  the  Persian  costume. 
In  like  manner  would  our  dear  Lord  appear  to  act ;  in  order 
lo  draw  towards  Him  the  affections  of  men,  He  clothed  him 
self  completely  after  the  human  fashion,  and  appeared 
made  man.  By  this  means  He  wished  to  make  known  to 
man  the  depth  of  the  love  which  He  bore  him.  Man  doe*> 
not  love  me,  would  God  seem  to  say,  because  he  does  not 
see  me  ;  I  wish  to  make  myself  seen  by  him,  and  to  con 
verse  with  him,  and  so  make  myself  loved. 

It  was  not  enough  for  the  divine  love  to  have  made  us  to 
His  own  image  in  creating  the  first  man,  Adam  ;  He  must 
also  Himself  be  made  to  our  image  in  redeeming  us.  Adam 
partook  of  the  forbidden  fruit,  beguiled  by  the  serpent, 
which  suggested  to  Eve  that  if  she  ate  of  that  fruit  she 
should  become  like  to  God,  acquiring  the  knowledge  of 
good  and  evil ;  therefore  the  Lord  then  said  :  "  Behold, 
Adam  is  become  like  one  of  us." *  God  said  this  ironically 
and  to  upbraid  Adam  for  his  rash  presumption.  But  after 
the  Incarnation  of  the  Word  of  God  we  can  truly  say, 
Behold,  God  is  become  like  one  of  us.  "Look,  then,  0 
man  !"  exclaims  St.  Augustine,  "thy  God  is  made  thy 
brother."  He  might  have  assumed  the  nature  of  an  angel ; 
but  no,  He  would  take  on  Himself  thy  very  flesh,  that  thus 
He  might  give  satisfaction  to  God  with  the  very  flesh  (though 
sinless)  of  Adam  the  sinner.  And  He  even  gloried  in  this, 
oftentimes  styling  Himself  the  Son  of  Man;  hence  we  have 
every  right  to  call  Him  our  brother. 

It  was  an  immeasurably  greater  humiliation  for  God  to 

*  Gen.  Hi.  22. 


38  GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND. 

become  man  than  if  all  the  princes  of  the  earth,  than  if  all 
the  angels  and  saints  of  heaven,  with  the  divine  Mother 
herself,  had  been  turned  into  a  blade  of  grass  or  into  a 
handful  of  clay.  Yes,  for  grass,  clay,  princes,  angels,  saints, 
are  all  creatures  ;  but  between  the  creature  and  God  there 
is  an  infinite  difference. 

But  the  more  God  has  humbled  Himself  for  us  in  becom 
ing  man,  so  much  the  more  has  He  made  His  goodness 
known  to  us.  As  the  sportsman  keeps  in  reserve  the  best 
arrow  for  the  last  shot,  in  order  to  secure  his  prey,  so  did 
God,  among  all  his  gifts,  keep  Jesus  Christ  in  reserve  till  the 
fulness  of  time  should  come,  and  then  He  sent  Him  a*  a 
last  dart  to  wound  with  His  love  the  hearts  of  men. 

11  In  wisdom,  God  the  Lord, 
Who  by  His  potent  Word 

The  universe  controls, 
Beheld  us  as  we  lay 
To  guilt  and  grief  a  prey, 

Aad  pitied  our  lost  souls. 

"  From  His  high  throne  above 
The  Father  sent  in  love 

His  messenger  to  earth, 
That  all  things  might  be  done 
As  promised  to  the  Son 

Before  His  wondrous  birth. 

"  Soon  as  the  angel  spoke 
The  Virgin's  joy  awoke. 

Hail !  favored  one,  for  thou 
(Said  he)  shalt  bear  a  Son, 
Both  God  and  man  in  one, 

To  whom  shall  all  things  bow . 

"  Nor  was  it  long  delayed 
Before  that  Mother-maid 
Embraced  hor  holy  Child, 


GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND.  39 

The  sight  of  faithful  men 

Cheering  the  world  again 

With  virtue  undented." 

"  The  Eternal  Son  of  God  was  born 
A  man,  on  that  illustrious  morn  : 
He  whom  the  boundless  heavens  obey 
Then  in  the  lowly  manger  lay, 
And  then  awoke  the  exultant  hymn 
From  raptured  choirs  of  cherubim. 
No  proud  ones  saw  the  glorious  light 
That  burst  upon  the  shepherd's  sight; 
But,  Jesse's  Rod  in  bloom,  behold 
With  myrrh  and  frankincense  and  gold, 
Tit  gifts,  the  Magi  come  from  far, 
Led  on  by  Bethlehem's  herald-star ! " 

It  was  in  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ  that  God  the  Father 
made  the  effects  of  His  goodness,  love,  and  liberality  foi  man 
appear  in  the  most  striking  and  most  wonderful  manner. 
We  see  these  effects  in  the  preaching  of  Christ,  in  His  mira 
cles,  in  His  Passion  and  Death ;  we  see  them  in  the  mission 
of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  we  see  these  effects  in  the  holy  Sacra 
ments,  especially  in  that  of  the  holy  Eucharist,  in  which 
God  may  be  said  to  have  exhausted  His  omnipotence,  His 
wisdom,  and  His  love  for  man ;  finally,  we  see  them  in  His 
most  wonderful  care  for  his  Church  in  general  and  for  each 
faithful  soul  in  particular. 

Again,  in  the  act  of  justification,  by  which  God  frees  the 
soul  from  sin  and  sanctifies  her,  He  communicates  Himself 
not  only  spiritually  to  the  soul  by  grace  and  charity  and 
other  virtues,  but  He  also  communicates  Himself  really  in 
giving  the  Holy  Ghost.  So  that  as  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Son 
of  God  by  nature,  we,  by  grace,  are  made  children  of  God, 
our  sonship  bearing  the  greatest  resemblance  to  the  divine 
Sonship.  Behold  the  great  things  which  divine  love  effects  ? 


40  (JOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND. 

We  are  tht  sons  of  God;  as  the  Holy  Scripture  says  :  "Ye 
are  the  sons  of  the  living  God. "  * 

This  communication  and  overflow  of  God's  liberality  is 
most  wonderful  for  five  reasons  : 

First.  On  account  of  the  greatness  and  majesty  of  the 
Lover  and  Giver ;  for  who  can  be  greater  and  more  exalted 
fcli an  the  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth  ? 

Second.  On  account  of  the  condition  of  those  to  whom  He 
^omiriunicates  himself  with  all  His  gifts.  By  nature  they 
are  but  men,  the  lowest  of  rational  beings ;  they  are  proud, 
ungrateful,  carnal  sinners,  incapable  of  doing  any  good,  and 
prone  to  every  evil  ;  they  are  mortal,  corrupt  creatures, 
doomed  to  become  one  day  the  food  of  worms.  "  What  is 
man,"  exclaims  the  Psalmist,  "  that  Thou  art  mindful  of 
him  ?  or  the  son  of  man,  that  Thou  visitcst  him  ?  "  f 

Third.  This  liberality  of  God  is  wonderful  on  account  of 
the  manifold  and  extraordinary  gifts  which  He  partly  confers 
on  men  and  partly  offers  to  them.  These  are  a  rational 
soul,  created  according  to  God's  own  image  and  likeness  ; 
divine  grace;  the  promise  of  glory;  the  protection  of  His 
angels;  the  whole  visible  world;  and,  finally,  His  own  well- 
beloved  Son.  "For  God  so  loved  the  world  as  to  give  His 
only-begotten  Son;  that  whoever  believeth  in  Him  might 
not  perish,  but  might  have  life  everlasting."  J 

Fourth.  This  liberality  of  God  is  wonderful  on  account 
of  the  end  for  which  He  confers  all  these  benefits — that  is, 
for  the  happiness  of  man,  and  not  for  His  own  happiness ; 
for  God  does  not  expect  to  receive  any  gain  or  advantage 
from  man. 

Fifth.  This  liberality  of  God  is  wonderful  on  account 
of  the  manner  in  which  He  communicates  Himself  to 
men. 

1.  It  is  peculiar  to  God's  infinite  love  to  lower  Himself  to 
what  is  vile  and  despicable,  to  heal  wh^yg8aj|r>g  to  seek 

*  Osee  i.  10.  +  P6.  viii.  5.        Ar  JJoKra.  16. 


GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND.  41 

what  is  rejected,  to  exalt  what  is  humble,  and  to  pour  out 
His  riches  where  they  are  most  needed. 

2.  He  often  communicates  Himself  even  hef ore  He  is  asked, 
as  He  does  in  what  are  called  preventing  graces,  by  which 
He  moves  the  soul  to  pray  for  subsequent  ones. 

3.  When  asked,  He  always  gives  more  than  is  asked.     The 
thief  on  the  cross  asked  of  Jesus  Christ  no  more  than  to  re 
member  him  in  His  kingdom ;  but  Jesus  Christ  answered 
his  prayer  with  the  words  :  "  Amen  I  say  to  thee,  this  day 
thou  shalt  be  with  me  in  Paradise." 

4.  God  often  lavishes  His  gifts  on  those  who,  as  he  fore 
sees,  will  be  ungrateful  for  them ;  nay,  He  lavishes  them 
even   upon  the  impious,  upon  infidels,  heretics,  atheists, 
blasphemers,  and  reprobates,  according  to  what  our  Lord 
says  in  the  Gospel :   "  Love  your  enemies  :  do  good  to  them 
that  hate  you   .    .    .    that  you  may  be  the  children  of  your 
Father  who  is  in  heaven,  who  maketh  His  sun  to  rise  upon  the 
good  and  the  bad,  and  raineth  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust."* 

Who  can,  after  these  reflections,  refrain  from  exclaiming . 
"Truly,  the  liberality  of  God  is  most  wonderful  !  Who 
can  comprehend  its  width,  its  height,  its  depth  ?  It  is 
fathomless,  like  the  Divinity  itself  ! " 

Yes,  the  greatness  and  liberality  of  God  are  fathomless. 
The  Eternal  Father  has  made  the  heavens  to  give  us  light 
and  rain ;  the  fire  to  give  us  warmth ;  the  air  to  preserve 
our  life  ;  the  earth  to  produce  for  us  various  kinds  of  fruit ; 
the  sea  to  yield  us  fish  ;  the  animals  for  our  food  and  cloth 
ing.  God  the  Son  has  given  Himself  to  us  upon  the  Cross, 
and  daily  gives  Himself  to  us  at  every  Mass  and  at  every 
holy  Communion.  The  Holy  Ghost  gives  himself  to  us  in 
baptism,  in  confirmation,  and  whenever  we  receive  any 
other  sacrament  worthily.  So  prodigal  has  God  become  of 
Himself,  because  He  is  the  greatest,  the  kindest,  and  most 
liberal  of  Fathers  ! 

*  Matt.  v.  45. 


42  GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND. 

0  man  !  whoever  thou  art,  thon  hast  witnessed  the  love 
which  God  has  borne  thee  in  becoming  man,  in  suffering 
and  dying  for  thee,  and  in  giving  Himself  as  food  to  thee. 
How  long  will  it  be  before  God  shall  know  by  experience 
and  by  deeds  the  love  thou  bearest  Him  ?    Truly,  indeed, 
every  man  at  the  sight  of  God  clothed  in  flesh,  and  choosing 
to  lead  a  life  of  such  durance,  to  suffer  a  death  of  such 
ignominy,  to  dwell  a  loving  prisoner  in  our  churches,  ought 
to  be  enkindled  with  love  towards  one  so  loving.     "  Oh  ! 
that  Thou  wouldst  rend   the  heavens,  and  wouldst  come 
down :  the  mountains  would  melt  away  at  Thy  Presence, 
the   waters   would   burn   with   fire."  *      Oh  !    that    Thou 
wouldst  deign,  my  God  I  (thus  cried  out  the  prophet,  be 
fore  the  arrival  of  the  divine  Word  upon  earth)  to  leave 
the  heavens,  and  to  descend  here  to  become  man  amongst 
us  !     On  beholding  Thee  like  one  of  themselves,  the  moun 
tains  would  melt  away ;  that  is,  men  would  surmount  all 
obstacles,  all  difficulties,  in  observing  Thy  laws  and  Thy 
counsels  ;  the  waters  would  burn  with  fire  !    Surely,  Thou 
wouldst  enkindle  such  a  furnace  in  the  human  heart  that 
even  the  most  frozen  souls  would  catch  the  flame  of  Thy 
blessed  love  !     And,  in  truth,  after  the  Incarnation  of  the 
Son   of   God,  how  brilliantly  has   the  fire  of  divine  love 
shone  to  many  living  souls  !    It  may  be  asserted  even,  with 
out  fear  of  contradiction,  that  God  was  more  beloved  in  one 
century  after  the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ  than  in  the  entire 
forty  centuries  preceding.     How  many  youths,  how  many 
of  the  nobly  born,  how  many  monarchs,  have  abandoned 
wealth,  honor,  and  their  very  kingdoms,  to  seek  the  desert 
or  the  cloister,  that  there,  in  poverty  and  obscure  seclusion, 
they  might  the  more  unreservedly  give  themselves  up  to  the 
love  of  this  their  Saviour  !     How  many  martyrs  have  gone 
rejoicing  and  making  merry  on  their  way  to  torments'  and 
to  death  !    How  many   tender  virgins   have   refused    the 
*  laaiaa  briv.  1,  2 


GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND.  43 

proffered  hands  of  the  great  ones  of  this  world,  in  order  to 
go  and  die  for  Jesus  Christ,  and  so  repay,  in  some  measure, 
the  affection  of  a  God  who  stooped  down  to  become  incar 
nate,  die  for  love  of  them,  and  stay  with  them  as  their  per 
petual  Victim  on  our  altars,  even  to  become  the  food  and 
drink  of  their  souls.  The  constant  remembrance  of  what 
God  had  done  for  them  made  them  generously  repel  the 
most  insidious  temptations  of  the  flesh,  the  world,  and  the 
devil.  The  flesh  was  answered  when  it  spoke : 

"  '  Sweet,  thou  art  pale.'    '  More  pale  to  see 
Christ  hung  upon  the  cruel  tree, 
And  bore  His  Father's  wrath  for  me.' 

"  <  Sweet,  thou  art  sad.'    '  Beneath  a  rod 
More  heavy  Christ,  for  my  sake,  trod 
The  wine-press  of  the  wrath  of  God.' 

"  '  Sweet,  thou  art  weary.'    '  Not  so  Christ, 
Whose  mighty  love  of  me  sufficed 
For  strength,  salvation,  Eucharist.' 

"  '  Sweet,  thou  art  footsore.'     <  If  I  bleed, 
His  feet  have  bled ;  yea,  in  my  need 
His  heart  once  bled  for  mine  indeed.' " 

The  world  was  answered  when  it  spoke : 

" '  Sweet,  thou  art  young.'    l  So  He  was  young 
Who  for  my  sake  in  silence  hung 
Upon  the  cross,  with  passion  wrung.' 

"  i  Look,  thou  art  fair.'    '  He  was  more  fair 
Than  men  who  deigned  for  me  to  wear 
A  visage  marred  beyond  compare.' 

"  l  And  thou  hast  riches.'    '  Daily  bread  j 
All  else  is  His  who,  living,  dead, 
For  me  lacked  where  to  lay  His  head.' 


Goi>,  THE  FATIIKK  OF  MA* 


\KIND. 


11 '  And  life  is  sweet.'    <  It  was  not  so 
To  Him  whose  cup  did  overflow 
With  mine  unutterable  woe.' " 

And  the  devil  was  answered  when  lie  spoke : 

1 '  Thou  drinkest  deep.'    '  When  Christ  wouid  sup, 
He  drained  the  dregs  from  out  my  cup  ; 
,  So  how  should  I  be  lifted  up  ? 

"  l  Thou  shalt  win  glory.'    <  In  the  skies  : 
Lord  Jesus,  cover  up  mine  eyes, 
Lest  they  should  look  on  vanities.' 

1  Thou  shalt  have  knowledge.'    <  Helpless  dust  I 
In  Thee,  0  Lord !  I  put  my  trust ; 
Answer  Thou  for  me,  Wise  and  Just ! ' 

" '  And  might.'     '  Get  thee  behind  me !    Lord, 
Who  hast  redeemed  and  not  abhorred 
My  soul,  oh  I  keep  it  by  Thy  word.' 

YOR,  all  this  is  most  true;  but  now  comes  a  tale  for  tears, 
tfas  this  been  the  case  with  all  men  ?  Have  all  sought  thus 
to  correspond  with  this  immense  love  of  their  God  and 
Father  ?  Alas  !  the  greater  part  have  combined  to  repay 
Him  with  nothing  but  ingratitude  !  Hence  His  just  com 
plaint  about  so  many  of  His  children:  "  Hear,  0  ye  heavens, 
and  give  ear,  0  earth.  I  have  brought  up  children,  and 
exalted  them  :  but  they  have  despised  me.  The  ox  know- 
oth  his  owner,  and  the  ass  his  master's  crib  ;  but  Israel  hath 
not  known  me,  and  my  people  hath  not  understood.  Woe  to 
the  sinful  nation,  a  people  laden  with  iniquity,  a  wicked 
seed,  ungracious  children :  they  have  forsaken  the  Lord."  * 
Alas  !  that  this  complaint  of  the  Lord  applies  to  so  many 
souls.  Alas  !  that  the  heart  of  God  is  an  abyss  of  fathom- 
less  goodness  and  liberality,  and  the  heart  of  man  an  abyss 
of  sin  and  iniquity. 

*  Isaias  i.  2-4. 


GOD,  THE  FATHER  OF  MANKIND.  45 

St.  Paul  exclaimed:  "  If  any  man  docs  not  love  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  let  him  be  anathema  " — let  him  be  accursed. 
Let  him  be  accursed  by  God  the  Luther,  accursed  by  God  the 
Son,  accursed  by  God  the  Holy  Ghost.  Let  him  be  accursed 
by  angels  and  by  men.  Let  him  be  accursed  by  the  very  de 
mons  in  hell.  Let  him  be  accursed  by  all  creatures  for  re 
fusing  to  love  our  Lord  and  Kedeemer  Jesus  Christ. 

Such  is  the  language  that  the  great  Apostle  St.  Paul,  the 
ardent  lover  of  the  Lord,  uses  towards  all  who  refuse  to  turn 
upon  their  God  the  force  of  that  ever-active  principle  of 
love  within  them,  which  will  never  suffer  them  to  rest, 
which  was  implanted  in  them  by  their  Creator,  and  which 
they  are  their  own  greatest  enemies  if  they  do  not  direct  to 
Him. 


CHAPTER    IV. 
THE   PRODIGAL'S  CHOICE — END  OF  MAN. 

IT  is  told  of  the  Japanese  that  when  the  Gospel  was  an 
nounced  to  them,  while  they  were  being  instructed  on 
the  sublimity,  the  beauty,  and  the  infinite  amiability  of 
God,  the  great  mysteries  of  religion,  all  that  God  had  done 
for  man — God  born  in  poverty,  God  suffering,  God  dying 
for  love  of  them  and  for  their  salvation — they  exclaimed  in 
a  transport  of  joy  and  admiration  :  "Oh  !  how  great,  how 
good  and  amiable,  is  the  God  of  the  Christians  !"  When 
they  heard  that  there  was  an  express  command  to  love  God, 
and  a  threatened  punishment  for  not  loving  Him,  they  were 
surprised.  "What!"  said  they,  "a  command  given  to 
reasonable  men  to  love  the  God  who  has  loved  us  so  much  ? 
Why,  is  it  not  the  greatest  happiness  to  love  Him,  and  the 
greatest  of  misfortunes  not  to  love  Him  ?  What  !  are  not 
the  Christians  always  at  the  foot  of  the  altars  of  their  God, 
penetrated  with  a  deep  sense  of  His  goodness,  and  inflamed 
with  His  holy  love  ? "  And  when  they  were  given  to  un 
derstand  that  there  were  Christians  who  not  only  did  not 
love  God,  but  even  offended  and  outraged  Him,  "  0  un 
worthy  people  !  0  ungrateful  hearts  ! "  exclaimed  they  in 
their  indignation.  "  Is  it  possible  ?  In  what  accursed 
land  dwell  those  men  devoid  of  hearts  and  feelings  ?  " 

We  wonder  at  these  sentiments  of  the  Japanese  Christians. 
But  does  not  our  own  heart  condemn  ingratitude  ?  Does 
it  not  condemn  the  conduct  of  the  prodigal  son  ?  He  was 
unwilling  to  live  in  his  father's  house,  in  the  society  of  a 

46 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  C HOICK — END  OF  MAN.          47 

good  and  wise  brother,  in  the  midst  of  domestic  occupa 
tions.  He  thought  it  happier  to  be  independent  of  all  re 
straint,  to  follow  the  desires  of  his  heart  without  let  or  hin 
drance.  We  condemn  him  for  all  this — for  his  monstrous 
ingratitude.  But  let  us  look  first  into  our  own  hearts. 
Docs  this  unnatural  son  stand  alone?  Has  he  no  imita 
tors  ?  Are  there  not  many  who,  like  him,  seek  their  happi 
ness  in  the  blind  pursuit  of  the  riches,  pleasures,  and  hon 
ors  of  this  world,  and  lose  sight  of  God,  their  Heavenly 
Father  ?  And  why  do  they  do  this  ?  Because,  like  the 
prodigal,  they  never  reflect  seriously  on  the  noble  end  for 
which  they  were  created.  They  never  say  : 

"  And  let  us  ask  whence  we  have  come, 

And  what  and  where  we  are,  and  why 
We  live,  and  where  will  be  our  home, 
And  seek  a  practical  reply." 

Let  us  go  into  the  streets  of  any  large  city  and  look 
around  us.  There  are  stately  buildings,  and  gay  equipages, 
and  brilliant  shops ;  but  even  those  are  nothing  to  the  con 
course  of  human  beings,  the  crowd  of  immortal  souls,  pass 
ing  to  and  fro,  daily  working  out  an  immortal  destiny  of 
good  or  evil.  There  is  an  old  man  tottering  along  the 
street ;  there  is  a  child  on  the  way  to  school  ;  there  is  a 
young  lady  going  abroad  to  display  her  finery  ;  there  is  the 
unhappy  victim  of  want  and  sorrow  ;  there  is,  too,  the  hardy 
laborer  going  to  his  daily  toil.  Now,  each  one  in  the  hur 
rying  throng  has  a  soul,  and  that  soul  will  live  for  over. 
The  tide  of  human  beings  flows  on,  day  after  day,  from 
morning  till  night.  New  faces  continually  appear  ;  they 
come  and  go.  We  know  not  their  history  ;  we  know  not 
their  destiny ;  but  we  know  that  each  one  has  a  spiritual 
nature,  an  immortal  soul,  created  in  God's  own  image. 
Many  of  these  persons  we  shall  never  meet  again  in.  this 
world ;  but  the  day  will  come  when  we  shall  meet  them  all 


48  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CHOICE — END  OF  MAN. 

again— not  one  shall  be  missing.  New  generations  shall 
come  in  the  place  of  those  who  now  inhabit  the  world.  All 
these  grand  buildings,  these  brilliant  shops,  shall  be  reduced 
to  ashes— nay,  the  world  itself  shall  pass  away  ;  but  every 
soul  now  living  in  this  city  shall  live  for  ever,  even  when  al] 
else  shall  be  changed  or  destroyed.  They  shall  live  for  ever 
because  their  souls  are  immortal. 

Now,  very  few  people  ever  think  about  their  future  des 
tiny.  Of  the  greater  part  of  men  it  is  true  what  a  poet 
gnid: 

"  I  loved  the  beauty  of  the  earth, 
The  brightness  of  the  skies ; 
Life  wooed  me  with  its  careless  mirth, 
My  birthright  and  my  prize. 

"  I  loved  in  smooth,  self-chosen  ways 

To  guide  my  wayward  feet  j 
I  courted  men's  unmeaning  praise : 
Their  smile  was  all  too  sweet. 

"  The  light  of  heaven  shone  pale  and  dim 

Upon  my  earth-bound  sight ; 
The  echo  of  the  seraph's  hymn 
For  me  had  no  delight. 

"  My  life  and  treasure  they  were  hero, 

My  throbbing  pulse  beat  high, 
My  step  was  free,  my  glance  was  clear 
With  youth's  gay  buoyancy." 

Only  those  who  are  wise  often  ask  themselves  the  great 
question,  Why  am  I  in  this  world 

Hear  what  the  monks  do.  At  mid-day  they  go  into  the 
church,  and,  kneeling  down,  they  ask  themselves  the  great 
question,  Why  did  God  create  me  ?  Have  I  this  morning 
been  doing  what  God  created  me  for  ?  The  night  comes, 
and  again  on  their  knees  in  the  church  they  ask  themselves 
the  great  question,  Why  did  God  create  me  ?  Did  1  tliis 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  CHOICE— END  OF  MAN.          49 

afternoon  do  what  God  created  me  for  ?  Once  a  month 
there  is  an  entire  day  devoted  to  nothing  else  than  to  put 
to  themselves  the  great  question,  "Why  did  God  create 
me  ? "  Have  I  this  month  been  doing  what  God  created 
me  for  ?  Once  every  year  there  are  ten  days  of  silence. 
During  that  time  they  do  not  preach,  they  hoar  no  con 
fession,  they  do  not  speak  to  any  human  being.  They 
spend  the  entire  ten  days  in  asking  themselves  the  great 
question,  "Why  did  God  create  me?"  Have  I  this  year 
been  doing  what  God  created  me  for  ?  This  question,  "  Why 
did  God  create  me  ?"  is  a  question  which  men  of  true  wis 
dom  often  put  to  themselves.  So  if  they  read,  if  they 
eat,  if  they  walk,  through  the  works  of  the  day,  through 
the  silence  of  the  night,  the  great  thought  comes  before 
them,  "  Why  did  God  create  me  ?  " 

"  Therefore,  when  this  clause  thou  readest, 
See  that  thou  the  lesson  heedest : 

Man,  thy  life  is  figured  clear ; 
In  what  state  thou  earnest  hither, 
What  to-day  thou  art,  and  whither 

Tend  thy  steps,  examine  here." 

Did  God  create  us  simply  that  we  might  make  money 
and  become  rich  ?  I  go  into  a  great  town — New  York,  or 
Philadelphia,  or  St.  Louis,  or  Chicago.  I  see  many  people 
walking  about  everywhere.  There  is  something  in  their 
faces  which  shows  that  they  are  not  idle  ;  that  they  have 
some  great  business,  some  great  thing  to  do.  There  seems 
to  be  something  which  takes  up  their  thoughts  and  fills 
their  whole  soul. 

I  stop  one  of  these  people  and  speak  to  him.  "  My 
good  man,"  I  say  to  him,  "tell  me  what  is  it— what  is  the 
great  business,  the  great  affair,  which  fills  all  your  thoughts 
and  takes  up  all  your  time  ?"  "My  great  affair,"  he  an 
swers,  "  the  great  affair  I  have  to  do,  is  to  get  money,  to  be 
rich."  I  go  on  further.  I  see  a  little  boy  running  along 


50  TEE  PRODIGAL'S  CHOICE — END  OF  MAN. 

the  street.  I  say  to  him,  * '  Stop  a  moment,  my  boy ;  what 
is  the  matter  ?  What  are  you  running  for  ? "  "I  am  run- 
ring  on  an  errand/'  the  boy  answers.  "  And  why  do  you 
run  on  an  errand?"  The  boy  answers:  "/  want  to  get 
money."  1  pass  on  and  walk  into  a  shop.  I  see  there  a 
man,  very  busy  from  morning  till  night.  His  whole  time 
is  filled  up  ;  he  has  scarcely  a  moment  to  get  anything  to 
eat.  I  say  to  him  :  "Why  do  you  work  so  hard  all  the 
days  of  your  life  ?  What  is  it  for  ?  What  is  to  be  the  end 
of  it  ?  What  do  you  want  ?  "  He  answers  :  "  /  want  to  get 
money  and  to  be  rich"  So  the  will,  and  the  memory,  and 
the  understanding,  and  the  thoughts,  and  the  desires  of  men 
are  always  turning  on  money,  as  the  earth  is  always  turning 
on  its  axis.  So  it  is  with  all,  young  and  old,  rich  and 
poor,  everywhere,  in  every  place,  from  the  rising  of  the 
sun  to  the  going  down  thereof.  I  stop,  then,  for  a  moment, 
and  again  I  ask  myself  the  great  question  :  "  Why  did  God 
create  us  ?  What  is  the  great  thing  we  have  to  do  on  this 
earth  ?  "  And  when  I  see  all  men  spending  all  their  time, 
and  breath,  and  strength,  and  health,  and  life  in  trying  to 
get  money,  I  say  to  myself :  "  Perhaps  this  is  what  God 
created  us  for — the  great  thing  we  have  to  do  is — to  get 
money,  to  be  rich."  Is  it  so  ?  Let  us  see. 

Our  divine  Saviour  tells  us  that  there  lived  once,  in  a  cer 
tain  city,  a  very  rich  man.  He  was  so  rich  that  he  himself 
hardly  knew  what  he  possessed.  He  had  gold  and  silver, 
lands  and  possessions,  without  end.  He  lived  in  a  splendid 
house,  which  was  furnished  with  everything  that  was  rich 
and  magnificent.  There  were  carpets  from  Persia,  and 
curtains  of  rich  velvet ;  ornaments  of  snow-white  ivory,  and 
precious  stones  and  sparkling  gems.  Every  day  this  man 
feasted  sumptuously.  The  richest  wines,  the  most  delicate 
meats,  were  on  his  table.  Every  one  called  this  rich  man 
happy,  and  when  the  people  passed  his  house  they  stopped  to 
look  at  it,  saying  with  a  sigh,  "  How  happy  must  this  man 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  C HOICK — END  OF  MAN          51 

be  !  I  wish  I  were  as  rich. "  But  see  what  became  of  him.  One 
day  the  rich  man  fell  sick.  Sickness,  you  know,  conies  to 
the  rich  as  well  as  to  the  poor.  The  doctor  was  sent  for  in 
haste.  He  came  ;  and 'when  he  saw  the  sick  man,  he  said  : 
"Oh  !  it  is  nothing;  I  will  give  you  some  medicine,  and 
you  will  be  well  again  in  a  few  days."  The  rich  man  was 
very  happy  when  he  heard  this ;  for  he  did  not  wish  to  die. 
He  took  the  medicine.  A  few  days  passed  by;  the  rich 
man  was  a  corpse.  He  died ;  and,  as  our  divine  Saviour 
Himself  assures  us,  he  was  buried  in  hell.  The  body  of  this 
rich  man  was  laid  out  on  A  fine  bed,  but  yet  it  was  just  as 
stiff  and  cold  as  the  corpse  of  any  poor  man ;  for  in  death  all 
men  are  equal.  His  body  was  laid  out  on  a  fine  bed,  and 
his  soul  was  laid  on  a  bed  of  fire.  There  was  mourning  in 
that  grand  house  because  the  rich  man  was  gone.  The 
people  walked  about  the  rooms  in  mournful  silence,  and  if 
they  spoke  it  was  only  in  a  low  whisper,  as  if  they  feared  to 
awaken  the  dead  man.  There  was  no  waking  for  him  any 
more.  He  slept  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking.  He  had 
slept  the  sleep  of  death,  and  awoke — in  hell  !  But  the 
upper  end  of  the  chamber  is  bright  with  lights.  There  you 
can  see  a  splendid  coffin.  It  is  made  of  the  richest  wood, 
and  covered  with  folds  of  rich  velvet,  all  glittering  with 
silver  and  gold.  The  inside  of  that  coffin  is  lined  with  satin 
and  silk  and  fringe  of  gold.  How  happy  must  the  rich 
man  have  been  to  have  such  a  coffin  !  Yes,  this  splendid 
coffin  is  for  his  body;  but  his  soul  is  enclosed  in  a  coffin  of 
burning  fire — the  ever-burning  fire  of  hell.  His  friends 
and  relatives  are  standing  round  his  coffin,  and  they  say  : 
"  What  a  beautiful  coffin  !"  But  the  demons  of  hell  are 
standing  round  the  soul  of  this  rich  man,  and  they  shout 
Amid  shrieks  and  blasphemies :  "  What  a  splendid  coffin  ! 
A  hot,  burning  coffin  for  the  soul  of  this  rich  man  !"  It 
is  a  terrible  fate  to  be  for  ever  burning  in  hell — for  ever 
tormented  by  the  demons.  But  whv  was  the  rich  man  con- 


52  THE  PRODIGAL'S  C HOICK — END  OF  MAN. 

demned  to  hell  ?  Because  he  made  a  great  mistake.  Ht 
thought,  like  so  many  others,  that  he  was  placed  here  or. 
earth  merely  to  grow  rich  and  enjoy  himself.  What  will 
riches  avail  us  at  the  last  hour  ?  When  we  come  to  lie  on 
our  death-bed,  can  we  say  to  ourselves,  "I  have  labored 
hard  in  my  lifetime,  and  worked  much,  and  am  rich  ;  I  am 
going  to  die  ;  and  because  I  am  rich,  I  die  happy"?  Here 
is  the  answer  to  the  question:  "The  rich  man  died,  and 
was  buried  in  hell  !"  It  is  very  hard  for  the  rich  to  enter 
heaven.  Jesus  Christ  has  declared  that  "it  is  easier  for  a 
camel  to  pass  through  the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich 
man  to  go  into  heaven."  *  Therefore,  to  get  money  and  be 
rich  is  not  the  great  thing  in  this  world.  It  was  not  for 
this  that  God  created  us.  Is  it  possible  to  think  that 
God  created  man  for  that  which  often  ruins  him  ? 

God,  then,  did  not  create  us  to  get  money  and  to  be  rich. 
Therefore  those  people  are  mistaken  who  live  in  this  world 
as  if  the  one  great  object  of  life  was  to  get  money.  Death 
will  come,  and  their  money  will  pass  away  into  other  hands. 
In  one  moment  they  will  go  down  into  hell.  When  they 
are  buried  in  hell,  they  will  find  out  the  mistake  of  their 
lives.  "  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  to  gain  the  whole  world 
if  he  lose  his  own  soul  ?"f 

"  See  bow  the  world  before  our  eyes 

Is  speeding  to  decay ! 
See  how  its  painted  vanities 

Are  withering  fast  away  ! 
How  into  dark  and  darker  shades 
Its  evanescent  glory  fades  !  " 

Many  people  think  that  the  great  object  of  life  is  to  eat 

and  drink  and  enjoy  themselves.     "  Their  god  is  their  belly  • 

their  end   is  destruction."!     There  was  once  a  man  who 

spoke  thus  to  himself:  "My  son!,  we  have  much  goods  laid 

*  Luke  xviii.  t  Matt.  xvi.  t  Phi],  iii. 


THE  PRODIGALS  CHOICE— END  OF  MAN.  53 

up  for  many  years  ;  let  us  eat  and  drink  and  enjoy  our 
selves."*  When  it  was  night.  Almighty  God  came  to  that 
man  and  said  to  him  :  You  fool,  you  fool,  because  yon 
thought  that  you  were  made  to  eat  and  drink  and  enjoy 
yourself— you  fool,  because  you  did  not  know  what  you 
were  created  for— "you  fool,  this  night  you  will  die;  and 
those  goods  which  you  have  laid  up  for  many  years,  wiiose 
shall  they  be?"f  "The  number  of  fools  is  infinite.''! 

Then  why  are  we  in  this  world  ?  Why  did  God  create 
us  ?  Was  it  to  acquire  praise  and  honor  ?  There  is  a  man 
whose  heart  thirsts  for  praise  and  honor.  He  labors  through 
sleepless  nights  and  weary  days.  Year  after  year  he 
watches  and  toils,  till  at  last  he  obtains  what  his  heart  has 
craved  so  long.  Praises  and  honors  are  showered  upon  him. 
His  name  is  on  every  lip.  But  is  he  happy  ?  Is  his  weary 
heart  at  rest  ?  Ah  !  no.  Every  new  honor  brings  new  cares. 
Envy  and  jealousy  pursue  him.  His  heart  ever  thirsts  for 
more  honors.  He  yearns  to  climb  still  higher  and  higher. 

King  Solomon,  in  the  search  after  happiness,  devoted  his 
mind  to  the  gratification  of  every  desire  of  his  heart.  "  I 
said  in  my  heart:  I  will  go.  and  abound  with  delights  and 
enjoy  good  things.  I  made  me  great  works,  I  built  me 
'nouses,  and  planted  vineyards.  I  made  gardens,  and  orch 
ards,  and  set  them  with  trees  of  all  kinds,  and  I  made  me 
ponds  of  water,  to  water  therewith  the  wood  of  the  young 
i  rees.  I  got  me  men-servants,  and  maid-servants,  and  had  a 
great  family  :  and  herds  of  oxen,  and  great  flocks  of  sheep, 
above  all  that  were  before  me  in  Jerusalem  :  I  heaped  to 
gether  for  myself  silver  and  gold,  and  the  wealth  of  kings, 
and  provinces:  I  made  me  singing  men,  and  singing  women, 
and  the  delights  of  the  sons  of  men :  cups  and  vessels  to 
serve  to  pour  out  wine:  and  I  surpassed  in  riches  all  that 
were  before  me  in  Jerusalem  :  my  wisdom  also  remained 
with  me.  And  whatsoever  my  eyes  desired,  I  refused  them 

*  Luke  xii.  i  Luke  xii.  t  Eccles.  i 


54  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CHOICE — END  OF  MAN. 

not :  and  I  withheld  not  my  heart  from  enjoying  every 
pleasure,  and  delighting  itself  in  the  things  which  I  had 
prepared :  and  esteemed  this  my  portion,  to  make  use  of  my 
own  labor." 

After  such  ample  enjoyment  of  all  earthly  pleasures, 
might  we  not  think  that  Solomon  was  happy  indeed  ?  Nev 
ertheless,  he  tells  us  that  his  heart  was  not  satisfied,  and  that 
he  felt  himself  more  miserable  than  before.  "  And  when  J 
turned  myself,"  he  says,  "to  all  the  works  which  my  hand,-> 
had  wrought,  and  to  the  labors  wherein  I  had  labored  in 
vain,  I  saw  in  all  things  vanity,  and  vexation  of  mind,  and 
that  nothing  was  lasting  under  the  sun."  * 

What  happened  to  Solomon  happens  still,  in  one  shape 
or  form,  to  every  man.  Hence  a  Christian  poet  writes  : 

"  Oh  1  what  is  all  earth's  round, 
Brief  scene  of  man's  proud  strife  and  vain  endeavor, 
Weighed  with  that  deep  profound,  that  tideless  ocean  river 
That  onward  bears  time's  fleeting  forms  for  ever  ?  n 

Give  to  the  man  whose  dream,  whose  waking  thought, 
day  and  night,  is  to  grow  rich  ;  to  live  in  splendor  and  lux 
ury  ;  whose  life  is  spent  in  planning,  and  thinking,  and  toil 
ing — give  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  all  the  gold  of  the 
mountains,  all  the  pearls  of  the  ocean.  Give  him  the  de 
sire  of  his  heart.  Will  he  be  happy  ?  Will  his  heart  be  at 
rest !  Ah  !  no.  He  will  find  that  riches  are  like  thorns ; 
that  they  only  wound  and  burn.  They  seem  sweet  when 
beheld  at  a  distance ;  but  indulge  in  them,  and  at  once  you 
taste  their  bitterness.  All  the  goods  and  pleasures  of  this 
world  are  like  a  fisher's  hook.  The  fish  is  glad  while  it 
swallows  the  bait  and  spies  not  the  hook;  but  no  sooner  has 
the  fisherman  drawn  up  his  line  than  it  is  tormented  within, 
and  soon  after  comes  to  destruction  from  the  very  bait  in 
which  it  so  much  rejoiced.  So  it  is  with  all  those  who  esteem 

*  Eccles.  ii 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  CHOICE— END  OF  MA  iv.  55 

themselves  happy  in  their  temporal  possessions.  In  their 
comforts  and  honors  they  have  swallowed  a  hook.  But  a 
time  will  come  when  they  shall  experience  the  greatness  of 
the  torment  which  they  have  swallowed  in  their  greediness. 

Now,  why  is  it  that  the  riches  and  pleasures  of  this  world 
cannot  make  us  happy  ?  It  is  because  the  soul  was  not  cre 
ated  by  and  for  them,  but  by  God,  for  Himself.  Therefore  it 
is  the  enjoyment  of  God  alone  that  can  make  the  soul  happy. 

A  thing  is  made  better  only  by  that  which  is  better  than 
the  thing  itself.  Inferior  beings  can  never  make  superior 
beings  better.  The  soul,  being  immortal,  is  superior  to  all 
earthly  things.  Earthly  things,  then,  cannot  make  the  soul 
better.  Hence  it  is  that  here  on  earth  we  are  never  satis 
fied.  We  always  crave  for  something  more,  something 
higher,  something  better.  Whence  comes  this  continual 
restlessness  that  haunts  us  through  life  and  pursues  us  even 
to  the  grave  ?  It  is  the  home-sickness  of  the  soul ;  its  crav 
ing  after  a  Good  that  is  better  and  more  excellent  than  the 
soul  herself  is.  God  alone  is  this  Good,  He  being  Supreme 
Goodness  itself.  He  who  possesses  God  may  be  said  to  pos 
sess  the  goodness  of  all  other  things  ;  for  whatever  goodness 
they  possess  they  have  from  God. 

"  In  spring  the  green  leaves  shoot, 
In  spring  the  blossoms  fall, 
With  summer  falls  the  fruit, 
The  leaves  in  autumn  fall; 
Contented  from  the  bough 
They  drop  ;  leaves,  blossoms  now, 
And  ripened  fruit — the  warm  earth  takes  them  all. 

"  Thus  all  things  ask  for  rest — 
A  home  above,  a  home  beneath  the  sod  : 
The  sun  will  seek  the  west, 
The  bird  will  seek  its  nest, 
The  heart  another  breast 
Whereon  to  lean  ;  the  spirit  seefe  its  God." 


66  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CHOICE — END  OF  MAN. 

Where,  tnen,  are  we  to  seek  true  nappiness  ?  In  God 
alone.  No  doubt  God  has  reserved  to  Himself  far  more 
than  He  has  bestowed  upon  creatures.  This  truth  admitted, 
it  necessarily  follows  that  he  who  enjoys  God  possesses,  in 
Him,  all  other  things  ;  and  consequently  the  very  same  de 
light  which  he  would  have  taken  in  other  things,  had  he 
enjoyed  them  separately,  he  enjoys  in  God,  in  a  far  greater 
measure  and  in  a  more  elevated  manner.  For  this  reason, 
St.  Francis  of  Assisium  used  to  exclaim,  "My  God  and 
my  All  '' — a  saying  to  which  he  was  so  accustomed  that  he 
could  scarcely  think  of  anything  else,  and  often  spent  whole 
nights  in  meditating  on  this  truth.  So  also  St.  Teresa 
would  exclaim,  "  God  alone  is  sufficient ! " 

Certainly,  true  contentment  is  that  which  is  found  in  the 
Creator,  and  not  that  which  is  found  in  the  creature — a  con 
tentment  which  no  man  can  take  from  the  soul,  and  in  com 
parison  with  which  all  other  joy  is  sadness,  all  pleasure  sor 
row,  all  sweetness  bitter,  all  beauty  ugliness,  all  delight  af 
fliction.  It  is  most  certain  that  "  when  face  to  face,  we 
shall  see  God  as  He  is  "  ;  we  shall  have  perfect  joy  and  happi 
ness.  The  more  closely,  then,  we  are  united  with  God  in  this 
life,  the  more  contentment  of  mind  and  the  greater  happi 
ness  of  soul  shall  we  enjoy  ;  and  this  contentment  and  joy 
is  of  the  self-same  nature  as  that  which  we  shall  have  in 
heaven.  The  only  difference  consists  in  this  :  that  here  our 
joy  and  happiness  is  in  an  incipient  state,  whilst  there  it 
will  be  brought  to  perfection.  Therefore  the  idea,  the  very 
essence,  of  all  happiness  is  to  be  united  with  God  as  closely 
as  possible.  Hence  it  is  that  St.  Augustine,  who  had  tasted 
all  pleasures,  exclaimed  :  "  Thou  hast  made  me,  0  God  !  for 
Thyself;  and  my  heart  was  uneasy  within  me  until  it  found 
its  rest  in  Thee!" 

Now,  when  is  it  that  we  possess  God,  are  closely  united 
with  Him,  and  find  our  rest  in  Him  ?  It  is  only  when  we 
ronlly  do  His  holy  will. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  G HOW K— END  OF  MAN.          5? 

This  God  gave  us  to  understand  in  express  terms  when 
He  said  to  Adam  :  "  And  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  of  good 
and  evil,  thou  shult  not  eat.  For  in  what  day  soever  thou 
shalt  eat  of  it,  thou  si  wit  die  the  death."  * 

By  this  commandment  man  was  clearly  given  to  understand 
that  the  continuation  of  his  happiness,  for  time  and  eter 
nity,  depended  upon  his  obedience  to  the  will  of  God.  To 
be  free  from  irregular  affections  and  disorderly  passions,  and 
to  transmit  his  happiness  to  his  posterity,  was  entirely  in 
his  power.  If  lie  made  a  right  use  of  his  liberty  by  always 
following  the  law  of  God  ;  if  he  preserved  unsullied  the 
image  and  likeness  of  his  Creator  and  Heavenly  Father  ;  if, 
in  fine,  he  made  a  proper  use  of  the  creatures  confided  to 
his  care,  he  would  receive  the  crown  of  life  everlasting  in 
reward  for  his  fidelity.  But  if  he  swerved  even  for  a  mo 
ment  from  this  loving  will  of  God,  he  would  subject  himself 
to  the  law  of  God's  justice,  which  would  not  fail  to  execute 
the  threatened  punishment. 

But  did  God,  perhaps,  afterwards,  in  consideration  of  the 
Redemption,  lay  down  other  and  easier  conditions  for  man's 
happiness  and  salvation  ?  No.  He  did  not  change  these 
conditions  in  the  least.  Man's  happiness  still  depended  on 
his  obedience  to  the  divine  will.  "  Now  if  thou  wilt  hear 
the  voice  of  the  Lord  thy  God,  to  do  and  keep  all  His  com 
mandments,  the  Lord  thy  God  will  make  thee  higher  than 
all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  all  these  blessings  shall 
come  unto  thee  and  overtake  thee  :  yet  so  if  thou  hear  His 
precepts."!  And  our  divine  Saviour  says:  "You  are  my 
friends,  if  you  do  the  things  that  I  command  you."  J  And 
again:  "Not  every  one  that  saith  unto  me,  Lord,  Lord, 
shall  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  :  but  he  that  doth 
the  will  of  my  Father  who  is  in  heaven  shall  enter  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  §  Tie  Himself  gave  tae  example, 
having  been  obedient  even  unto  the  death  of  the  cross, 
*  (*«n.  ii.  17.  t  Deut.  xxviii.  1,  2.  j  John  xv.  16.  §  Matt.  vii.  81. 


58  THE  PRODIGAL'S  C HOICK — Ex D  OF  MAN, 

thereby  teaching  all  men  that  their  happiness  and  salvation 
depend  on  their  constant  obedience  to  the  will  of  their 
Heavenly  Father.  All  men  without  exception  were  made  by 
God  to  be  happy  with  Him  for  ever  in  heaven,  on  this  one 
condition :  "  He  that  doth  the  will  of  rny  Father  who  is  in 
heaven,  he  shall  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  The 
answer,  then,  to  the  great  question,  "Why  did  God  create 
me  ?  "  is  to  know  God,  to  love  Him,  and  serve  Him  accord 
ing  to  His  holy  will. 

Man,  when  leading  a  life  contrary  to  God's  will,  is  alto 
gether  out  of  his  place.  A  tool  which  no  longer  corresponds 
to  the  end  for  which  it  was  made  is  cast  away ;  a  wheel 
which  prevents  others  from  working  is  taken  out  and 
replaced  by  another  ;  a  limb  in  the  body  which  becomes 
burdensome,  and  endangers  the  functions  and  life  of  the 
others,  is  cut  off  and  thrown  away ;  a  servant  who  no  longer 
does  his  master's  will  is  discharged;  a  rebellious  citizen, 
violating  the  laws  of  the  state,  is  put  into  prison ;  a  child 
in  unreasonable  opposition  to  his  parents  is  disinherited. 
Thus  men  naturally  hate  and  reject  what  is  unreasonable 
or  useless,  or  opposed  to,  and  destructive  of,  good  order, 
whether  natural  or  moral.  What  more  natural,  then,  than 
that  the  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  the  author  of  good 
sense  and  of  good  order,  should  bear  an  implacable  hatred 
to  disobedience  to  His  holy  will  ? 

The  man  in  opposition  to  the  will  of  God  suffers  as  many 
pangs  as  a  limb  which  lias  been  dislocated  ;  he  is  continually 
tormented  by  evil  spirits,  who  have  power  over  a  soul  that 
is  out  of  its  proper  sphere  of  action  ;  he  is  no  longer  under 
the  protection  of  God,  since  he  lias  withdrawn  from  His 
will,  the  rule  for  man's  guidance,  and  has  voluntarily  left 
His  watchful  Providence.  God  sent  Jonas,  the  prophet,  to 
Ninive,  and  he  wished  to  go  to  Tarsus.  He  was  buffeted 
by  the  tempest,  cast  into  the  sea,  and  swallowed  by  a  inon 
ater  of  the  deep  !  Behold  what  shall  come  on  those  who 


TBE  PRODIGAL'S  CHOICE — END  OF  MAN.          59 

abandon  God's  will  to  follow  their  own  passions  and  incli 
nations.  They  shall  be  tossed,  like  Jonas,  by  continual 
tempests  ;  they  will  remain  like  one  in  a  lethargy,  in  tho 
hold  of  their  vessels,  unconscious  of  sickness  or  danger, 
until  they  perish  in  the  stormy  sea,  and  are  swallowed  up 
in  hell !  "  Know  thou,  and  see  that  it  is  a  bitter  and 
fearful  thing  for  thee  to  hare  left  the  Lord  thy  God,  when 
He  desired  to  lead  thee  in  the  way  of  salvation,  and 
that  my  fear  is  not  with  thee,  saith  the  Lord  God  of 
hosts." 

God  grants  to  the  devil  great  power  over  the  disobedient. 
As  the  Lord  permitted  a  lion  to  kill  a  prophet  in  Juda  in 
punishment  for  his  disobedience  to  the  voice  of  the  Lord, 
so  He  permits  the  infernal  lion  to  assail  the  proud  and  the 
disobedient  everywhere  with  the  most  filthy  temptations, 
which  they  feel  themselves  too  weaK  to  resist,  and  thus  fall 
a  prey  to  his  rage.  Unless  they  repent  soon,  like  Jonas,  of 
their  sin  of  idolatry,  as  it  were,  they  will  not  be  saved,  as 
was  the  prophet,  but  will  perish  in  the  waves  of  temptations 
and  sink  into  the  fathomless  abyss  of  hell. 

Disobedience  to  God's  will  turned  the  rebellious  angels 
out  of  heaven  ;  it  turned  our  first  parents  out  of  Paradise  ; 
it  made  Cain  a  vagabond  and  a  fugitive  on  earth  ;  it 
drowned  the  human  race  in  the  waters  of  the  deluge ;  it 
brought  destruction  upon  the  inhabitants  of  Sodom  and 
Gornorrha.  Disobedience  to  the  will  of  God  led  the  Jews 
often  into  captivity  ;  it  drowned  Pharao  and  all  his  host 
in  the  Red  Sea  ;  it  turned  Nabuchodonosor  into  a  wild 
beast ;  it  laid  the  city  of  Jerusalem  in  ashes  ;  it  has  ruined, 
and  will  still  ruin,  whole  nations,  empires,  and  kingdoms; 
it  will  finally  put  an  end  to  the  world,  when  all  those  who 
always  rebelled  against  the  will  of  God  will,  in  an  instant, 
be  hurled  into  the  everlasting  flames  of  hell  by  these  irre 
sistible  words  of  the  Almighty:  "  Depart  from  me,  ye 
cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  which  was  prepared  for  the 


60  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CHOICE — END  OF  MAN. 

devil  and  his  angels,"  there  to  obey  the  laws  of  God's  justice 
for  ever. 

It  was,  on  the  contrary,  for  his  obedience  to  the  will  oi 
God  that  Abel  obtained  from  the  Lord  the  testimony  that 
he  was  just;  that  Henoch  was  translated  by  God  in  order 
that  he  should  not  see  death.  On  account  of  his  obedience 
to  the  will  of  God,  Nbe  and  his  family  were  saved  from 
ihe  Deluge  ;  Abraham  became  the  father  of  many  nations  ; 
Joseph  was  raised  to  the  highest  dignity  at  the  court  of  the 
King  of  Egypt.  For  the  same  reason  Moses  became  the 
great  servant,  prophet,  and  lawgiver  of  the  land,  and  the 
great  worker  of  miracles  with  the  people  of  God.  Obedi 
ence  to  the  will  of  God  was,  for  the  Jews,  at  all  times,  an 
impregnable  rampart  against  all  their  enemies ;  it  turned  a 
Saul,  a  persecutor  of  the  Church,  into  a  Paul,  the  Apostle 
of  the  Gentiles  ;  it  turned  the  early  Christians  into  martyrs 
— for  martyrdom  does  not  consist  in  suffering  and  dying 
for  the  faith ;  it  consists,  rather,  in  the  conformity  of  the 
martyr's  will  to  the  divine  will,  which  requires  such  a  kind 
of  death,  and  not  another.  Nay,  Jesus  Christ  has  declared 
that  it  is  by  obedience  to  the  will  of  His  Heavenly  Father 
that  every  one  becomes  His  brother,  His  sister,  and  even  His 
mother.  "  Whosoever,"  he  says,  "  shall  do  the  will  of  my 
Father  who  is  in  heaven,  he  is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and 
mother."  * 

To  serve  God  according  to  His  will  is  the  principal  end 
of  life.  To  regulate  all  the  affairs  of  the  universe,  to  be 
always  successful  in  all  our  desires,  to  heap  up  all  the  riches 
of  the  world,  obtain  royal  dignities,  extend  our  possessions 
beyond  bounds,  without  having  rendered  our  Creator  the 
service  which  is  due  Him,  is,  in  the  judgment  of  heaven,  to 
have  done  nothing,  to  have  lived  on  the  earth  in  vain.  On 
the  other  hand,  to  have  done  nothing  for  the  world,  to  have 
always  languished  on  a  sick-bed,  to  have  been  despised  by 
*  Matt.  xii.  50. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  CHOICE — END  OF  MAN.          61 

all  our  fellow-men,  to  have  lived  in  some  obscure  abode,  but 
to  have  served  God  throughout,  would  be  enough,  because 
we  should  have  conducted  to  its  last  end  the  only  thing  for 
which  this  present  life  was  given  us. 

The  remembrance  of  this  truth  has  more  than  once  ren 
dered  the  wisdom  of  children  superior  to  that  of  old  men. 
In  a  tender  age  St.  Teresa  retired  into  a  solitary  place,  and 
spoke  to  herself  thus  :  "Teresa,  you  will  be  either  eternally 
happy  or  eternally  unhappy  !  Choose  which  you  please." 
Young  Stanislas  de  Kostka  gave  all  to  God  and  nothing  to 
the  world.  Being  asked  why  he  acted  so  strangely,  "  I  arn 
not  made  for  this  world,"  he  replied,  "  but  for  the  world 
to  come."  Let  the  world  cry  out  against  this  truth;  let 
the  flesh  revolt  against  it  ;  let  all  the  demons  deny  and 
oppose  it — it  is  and  remains  an  immortal  truth  that  we 
were  created  by  God  to  serve  Him  in  this  world  according 
to  His  will,  and  in  reward  for  this  service  to  possess  Him 
for  ever  in  the  next,  or  to  be  punished  in  hell  for  ever  for 
having  refused  to  obey  the  Lord.  Who  but  an  atheist 
v/ou-ld  dare  deny  this  truth  ? 


CHAPTER    V. 
THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN. 

A  FTER  the  prodigal  son  bad  received  his  portion  of  til*-} 
•*•  inheritance,  he  left  the  father  by  whom  he  was  so  much 
oved.  He  turned  his  back  upon  the  home  where  he  had 
everything  in  abundance.  He  went  into  a  far  country, 
which  was  strange  to  him.  In  a  short  time,  he  had  spent 
the  whole  of  his  inheritance  :  he  soon  was  poor  and  naked  ; 
he  suffered  great  want,  and  was  dying  of  hunger.  Aban 
doned  by  those  on  whom  and  in  whose  company  he  had 
dissipated  all  his  wealth,  he  entered  into  service  with  one  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  country.  Here  he  was  cruelly  treated, 
and  sent  into  the  field  to  tend  the  swine.  He  had  at  last 
become  a  vile  slave — a  wretched  swineherd — barefoot,  bare 
headed,  and  dressed  in  tattered  garments.  To  satisfy  the 
cravings  of  hunger,  he  was  willing  to  eat  the  husks  of  swine, 
but  they  were  refused  him.  What  a  shameful  degradation  ! 
Yet  what  a  terrible  and  truthful  picture  of  the  state  of 
every  one  who  has  strayed  away  from  God,  to  lead  a  life  of 
sin  ! 

God  made  us  to  His  own  image  and  likeness.  He  be 
stowed  upon  us  an  intelligence  and  a  will,  a  heart  and  a 
conscience,  so  that  we  are  intelligent  and  moral  beings. 
The  malice  of  sin  consists  in  this  :  that  an  intelligent  crea 
ture,  having  the  power  of  will,  deliberately  and  consciously 
opposes  the  \vilJ  of  its  Makes,  and  thus  becomes,  like  LVM- 
?er,  a  rebel  spirit  against  God. 

To  nu^p/^tand,  then,  whtit  sin  is,  it  would  be  necessary 
for  us  tP  coders  tan  d  the  greatness  of  God  Himself.  Evil 

M 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN.      63 

must  be  considered  to  be  so  much  the  greater,  the  greater  the 
good  is  to  which  it  is  opposed  ;  its  sickness  is  the  more  dan 
gerous,  the  more  it  is  calculated  to  destroy  life.  Now,  God  is 
the  Supreme  Good.  The  only  evil  opposed  to  Him  is  sin,  es 
pecially  mortal  sin.  Mortal  sin,  therefore,  is,  as  it  were,  as 
incomprehensible  as  God,  the  Supreme  Good,  to  whom  it  is 
opposed.  Thus  we  shall  never  be  able  to  comprehend 
the  great  evil  and  malice  of  sin,  because  we  shall  never  be 
able  to  understand  what  God  is.  But  though  it  be  true  that 
we  shall  never  be  able  thoroughly  to  understand  the  malice 
of  mortal  sin,  we  may  obtain  some  idea  of  it  by  considering 
mortal  sin  in  its  effects.  Sin  is  called  mortal  or  deadly,  be 
cause  it  kills  the  soul.  When  God  forbade  Adam  to  eat  of 
the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  He  said  :  "  On 
what  day  soever  thou  shalt  eat  of  the  fruit  of  this  tree,  thou 
shalt  die."  Those  same  words  God  addresses  to  every  one  of 
us  :  "  On  what  day  soever  thou  shalt  eat  of  the  fruit  of  sin,  on 
what  day  soever  thou  shalt  break  one  of  my  commandments, 
thou  shalt  die."  If,  for  instance,  we  stay  away  from  Mass, 
through  our  own  fault,  on  a  Sunday  or  holy  day  of  obliga 
tion,  if  we  wilfully  eat  meat  on  Friday  or  fast-day,  if  we 
take  wilful  pleasure  in  an  immodest  thought,  though  it  be 
but  for  a  moment,  the  sentence  is  passed  against  us,  '•  Thou 
shalt  die."  The  moment  we  have  committed  a  mortal  sin, 
we  are  morally  dead. 

But  the  sinner  may  ask  :  "  How  can  I  be  dead  ?  My 
face  is  not  pale,  no  coffin  is  brought,  no  grave  is  dug  for  me. 
I  can  eat,  laugh,  talk,  and  walk  about  just  as  well  as  I  did 
before  the  mortal  sin  was  committed.  How,  then,  can  I  be 
dead?"  Ah  !  there  is  a  death  far  more  terrible  than  the 
death  of  the  body.  It  is  the  death  of  the  soul.  And  as 
truly  as  the  God  of  Heaven  has  said  it,  the  man  who  has 
fallen  into  mortal  sin  is  dead,  for  "  the  soul  that  sinneth, 
shall  die."  * 

*  Ezech.  xvili. 


<J4       THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN. 

The  soul  has  a  twofold  life  :  the  one  natural,  the  other 
supernatural.  The  natural  life  of  the  soul  cannot  be  lost — 
cannot  be  lost  even  in  hell.  The  supernatural  life  of  the 
soul,  which  is  called  the  life  of  grace,  is  the  life  received  in 
baptism,  and  this  life  is  destroyed  by  mortal  sin.  God  Him 
self  is  this  life.  The  very  instant  a  mortal  sin  is  committed, 
God  leaves  the  soul,  and  it  is  struck  dead.  The  time  of 
temptation  came.  It  was  a  fearful  time  for  the  poor  soul. 
The  devils  were  near  to  tempt.  But  God  find  His  angels 
were  there  also  to  assist.  A  single  prayer,  a  single  good  de 
sire,  would  have  saved  the  soul.  But  no  !  the  sinner  closed 
his  eyes  to  the  light,  stifled  the  voice  of  conscience,  turned 
away  from  God  and  His  angels,  consented  to  sin  ;  and  the 
immortal  soul,  the  noblest  of  God's  works,  created  to  the 
image  and  likeness  of  the  Most  High  God,  redeemed  by  the 
precious  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  was  crushed  and  ruined. 
And  who  benefited  by  its  ruin  ?  The  devil.  The  wailings 
of  the  angels  were  not  heard  from  Heaven;  nor  did  the 
blasphemies  of  the  demons  of  hell  fall  upon  the  ear.  Yet  a 
far  more  terrible  ruin  had  been  wrought  than  would  result 
from  the  collapse  of  the  entire  universe.  After  that  mortal 
sin  had  been  committed,  did  not  the  stones  cry  out  from  the 
walls  against  the  dead  soul?  Did  not  the  beasts  of  the  field 
shun  the  sinner  ?  Did  not  the  people  in  the  street  shriek 
as  it  passed,  and  flee,  horror-stricken,  from  the  dead  soul  ? 
No  ;  all  went  on  as  usual,  as  though  a  mortal  offence  had 
not  been  committed  against  God.  But  there  is  One  in 
Heaven  who  sees  the  leprosy  of  that  soul,  and  hates  the  sin 
with  an  infinite  hatred,  as  He  punishes  it  with  an  everlast 
ing  punishment. 

If  a  member  of  our  family  dies,  we  weep  and  put  on 
mourning.  If  a  friend  or  acquaintance  dies,  we  are  grieved  ; 
nay,  if  a  senseless  beast  sinks  in  the  field  and  dies,  for  the 
dead  beast  there  is  sorrow.  But  if  a  member  of  our  family 
kills  his  soul  by  mortal  sin;  if  his  immortal  soul,  created  to 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE— MORTAL  SIN.      66 

the  image  and  likeness  of  God,  dies,  not  a  tear  is  shed,  not 
a  moan  is  uttered,  not  a  word  of  sorrow  is  spoken.  Father 
or  brother,  husband  or  child,  has  lost  Mass  through  his  own 
fault  on  Sunday ;  he  has  drunk  to  excess,  or  he  has  con 
sented  to  a  wicked  thought,  or  he  has  committed  a  sinful 
action,  and  he  goes  to  his  home  with  a  dead  soul — a  soul 
killed  by  mortal  sin.  When  he  opens  the  door,  and  brings 
a  dead  soul  into  the  midst  of  us — and  a  soul  in  which,  in 
stead  of  purity,  there  is  impurity ;  instead  of  justice,  there 
is  injustice;  instead  of  truth,  there  is  falsehood  ;  instead  of 
mercy,  there  is  cruelty ;  instead  of  meekness,  there  is  an 
ger;  instead  of  the  perfections  of  God,  there  is  the  direct 
contrary  of  those  perfections — do  we  cry  out  in  lamenta 
tion  ?  Do  we  fly  in  terror  from  the  murderer  of  his  own 
soul  ?  Not  so.  But  were  God  to  open  our  eyes,  and  show 
us  the  hideousness  of  a  dead  soul,  we  should  die  of  terror. 
Had  we  light  to  discover  the  real  deformity  of  sin,  we  could 
not  behold  it  and  live.  "  One  sin,"  says  St.  John  Chrysos- 
tom,  "has  rendered  the  demons  so  horrible,  that  if  God 
should  cause  them  to  appear  visibly  before  us,  the  sight  of 
them  would  strike  us  dead."  St.  Frances  of  Rome  says  she 
would  willingly  have  cast  herself  into  a  burning  furnace  to 
avoid  the  sight  of  a  demon  that  had  appeared  to  her.  St. 
Catherine  of  Sienna  assures  us  that  she  would  rather  walk 
through  flames  than  behold  for  the  shortest  space  one  of 
those  hideous  forms.  God  showed  one  day,  to  St.  Francis 
of  Assisium,  a  soul  in  the  state  of  mortal  sin.  The  great 
saint  was  so  frightened  at  it  that  he  took  flight,  and  hid 
himself  in  a  dark  corner. 

Many  centuries  ago  there  was  a  certain  man  condemned 
to  suffer  an  extraordinary  punishment.  A  dead  body,  black 
as  if  it  had  died  of  the  black  cholera,  was  taken  out  of  the 
grave1  and  fastened  in  such  a  manner  to  the  body  of  the  un 
happy  man  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  free  himself 
from  it.  The  poor  wretch  shrieked  and  shook  with  horror 


66      THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN. 

when  he  yaw  the  terrible  burden  that  he  was  condemned  to 
bear.  But  when  he  felt  its  cold  weight  pressing  upon  him, 
the  shudder  of  death  froze  the  very  blood  in  his  veins.  In 
the  light  of  the  day,  he  saw  the  frightful  load  of  black  death ; 
in  the  darkness  of  the  night  that  dead  body  was  his  only 
companion.  It  soon  began  to  rot,  and  the  stench  of  it 
became  intolerable.  The  worms  came  out  of  the  corpse 
and  crawled  over  the  body  of  the  unhappy  man.  They 
crept  into  his  ears  and  eyes ;  they  crept  into  his  mouth  and 
nostrils.  Never  was  there  so  shocking  a  sight.  The  people 
who  saw  this  man  at  a  distance  shrieked  with  terror  and 
ran  away.  The  very  beasts  fled  from  him  when  he  passed. 
At  last  the  unfortunate  man  lost  his  senses,  and  finally 
death  came  mercifully  and  relieved  him  of  his  horrible  load. 

Those  who  are  in  a  state  of  mortal  sin  carry  about  with 
them  day  and  night  a  load  far  more  loathsome  than  a  dead 
body.  They  carry  a  dead  soul,  that  is  rotten  and  corrupt 
ing  in  mortal  sin.  The  better  a  thing  is  in  itself,  the  more 
detestable  it  becomes  when  it  is  corrupted ;  and  as  there  is 
nothing  under  heaven  so  precious  as  a  human  soul,  there 
is  nothing,  consequently,  so  thoroughly  detestable  and 
hideous  as  a  soul  destroyed  by  mortal  sin.  To  form  some 
idea  of  a  soul  in  the  state  of  mortal  sin,  go  to  the  grave 
yard  ;  gaze  at  the  corpses  as  they  rot  in  their  graves. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  a  certain  city  there  is  a  large 
burial-ground,  having  a  number  of  deep  vaults,  each  large 
enough  to  hold  hundreds  of  coffinless  bodies.  It  is  the 
custom  in  this  city  to  throw  the  dead  bodies  into  the  vaults. 
One  day  a  corpse  was  brought  out  to  be  buried.  The  large 
stone  that  covered  the  mouth  of  the  vaults  was  taken  away, 
and  one  of  the  bystanders  looked  down  into  the  vaults.  lie 
beheld  a  horrible  sight.  There  in  the  vaults  lay  hundreds 
of  corpses,  some  with  faces  upturned,  others  with  faces 
prone  to  the  earth.  Some  were  leaning  against  the  wall ;  and 
some  with  white  skeleton  hands  stretched  out,  as  if  pointing 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  KIN.       67 

m  solemn  warning  to  the  end  of  nil  earthly  beauty  and 
greatness.  Here  were  the  yellow,  shapeless  skulls,  grinning 
in  horrible  mockery;  there  the  eyes  dropping  out  of  then 
sockets,  the  ears  falling  oft',  the  long  hair  scattered  about, 
the  bones  piercing  through  the  livid  skin.  This  immense 
mass  was  ol  every  color,  from  pale  to  black.  In  some  the 
flesh  was  hard,  in  others  it  was  dissolved  like  water.  There 
were  thousands  and  thousands  of  reptiles  feeding  on  the 
bodies.  The  stench  that  rose  up  from  the  vault  was  so 
repulsive  that  the  man  who  looked  down  had  to  turn  away 
quickly  or  he  would  have  dropped  dead. 

But  what  is  even  Miis  mass  of  corruption  compared  to 
the  shocking  corruption  of  a  soul  in  a  state  of  mortal  sin  ? 
Here  is  how  our  Divine  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  speaks  of 
those  who  are  outwardly  fair  and  lovely,  but  whose  souls 
arc  dead:  "0  ye  whitewashed  sepulchres,  without  you 
are  fair  and  beautiful,  but  within  you  arc  ful!  of  filth  and 
rottenness  and  dead  men's  bones."  * 

Those  in  the  state  of  mortal  sin  are  like  a  grave  filled 
with  corruption ;  not  the  corruption  of  flesh  and  blood,  but 
the  corruption  of  the  soul,  of  thoughts  and  desires,  of 
words  and  actions.  The  soul,  while  in  that  state,  is  as  yet  a 
pealed  grave  ;  no  one  on  earth  can  see  the  rottenness  within. 
Outwardly,  perhaps,  all  is  fair  and  beautiful.  The  tomb  is 
yet  wreathed  with  flowers.  But  the  day  shall  come  when 
the  clangor  of  the  dread  trumpet  shall  ring  throughout  the 
universe,  and  then  the  sealed  grave  shall  burst  asunder,  and 
all  the  black  and  hideous  corruption  of  the  soul  within  it 
shall  be  revealed  and  made  manifest  to  all  men. 

See  that  young  man.  His  air,  his  bearing,  show  you  that 
he  knows  something  of  the  world,  that  life  has  no  longer 
any  secrets  for  him.  He  has  tasted  the  poisoned  cup  of 
pleasure.  It  was  sweet  as  honey  to  his  lips,  but  bitter  as 
gall  to  his  heart.  And  yet,  there  was  a  time  when  that 

*  Matt,  xxiii. 


68       THE  PMODI&AL  s  DEPARTURE — MORTA  L  SIN. 

young  man  was  pure  and  innocent.  He  was  once  a  good 
Catholic.  His  soul  glistened  with  the  brightness  of  baptis 
mal  grace  and  was  beautiful  as  an  angel  of  God.  But  a 
day  came  when  he  was  tempted.  He  neglected  to  pray,  he 
closed  his  eyes  to  the  light,  he  choked  up  the  warning  voice 
of  conscience,  and,  turning  away  from  God  and  His  angels, 
he  yielded  to  the  temptation  and  fell.  From  that  moment 
forward  he  became  an  altered  being.  He  had  committed 
his  first  mortal  sin.  Could  he  have  heard  the  wailings  of 

o 

the  angels  of  Heaven,  and  the  blasphemies,  the  wild  shrieks 
of  the  demons,  as  they  rang  out  from  the  depths  of  hell ! 
But  he  sees  nothing,  he  hears  nothing.  His  brain  is  on  fire, 
his  heart  is  consumed  with  passion.  The  pleasures  of  the 
world  open  before  him,  and  he  is  perverted.  He  no  longer 
likes  the  Sacraments,  holy  Mass,  or  prayer.  He  finds 
his  delight  only  in  visiting  the  haunts  of  sin  and  shame, 
in  drinking  and  debauchery,  and,  falling  from  one  sin  into 
another,  he  becomes  at  last  utterly  miserable.  Perhaps  he 
goes  to  confession  occasionally,  but  he  continues  to  fall 
back  into  the  old  sins,  and  finally  gives  up  altogether. 
Then  he  begins  to  curse  God's  holy  things,  to  wander  far 
ther  and  farther  away  from  God,  the  most  tender  and  liberal 
Father,  the  centre  of  all  happiness  and  glory,  the  source  of 
all  peace  and  contentment.  He  begins  to  place  himself  in 
a  state  the  most  remote  from  heaven,  and  to  live,  as  it  were, 
in  a  strange  country,  in  a  dark  land  covered  with  the  shades  of 
death  and  filled  with  misery.  He  serves  a  most  cruel  master, 
who  ill-treats  him,  refuses  him  even  the  husks  of  swine,  and 
suffers  him  to  go  about  naked  and  poor  and  dying  with  hun 
ger.  Outwardly,  all  may  be  fair  and  beautiful  with  him ; 
he  is  perhaps  the  life  and  ornament  of  society,  praised  and 
admired  by  all ;  but  within,  his  heart  is  full  of  corruption. 
A  gallant  ship  was  sailing  over  the  ocean  homeward- 
bound,  laden  with  costly  ware,  with  silver  and  gold  and 
precious  stones.  The  sky  was  bright,  the  wind  was  fair,  an  I 


THE  PRODIGALS  .DurAirrvtiK — MORTAL  SIN. 


6V* 


the  ship  sped  on  swiftly  as  a  sea-bird.     All  on  board  were 
happy,  for  they  were  uearing  the  port — their  Jong  and  peril 
ous  voyage  was  almost  at  an  end.     But  suddenly  the  heav 
ens  grew  dark,  a  fierce  storm  arose,  the  winds  howled  madly 
around  the  vessel,  which  was  hurried  on  until  it  was  dashed 
against   a  rock.     The  wild  surging  waves  rushed  over  it, 
and   it   sank   with  all  its  costly  treasures— sank,  with   all 
on  board,  far  down  into  the  depths  of  the  sea.     Next  day 
the  storm  died  away,  the  heavens  were  bright,  and  the  sea 
became  smooth  again,  but  the  ship  appeared  no  more;  only 
a  few  broken  planks  were  to  be  seen  floating  here  and  there 
on  the  surface  of  the  water.     Such  is  the  story  of  a  wrecked 
soul.     There  was  a  time  when  it  was  rich  beyond  measure. 
It  was  then  a  child  of  God.     During  happy  years  and  weeks 
and  days,  God  kept  an  account  of  all  the  thoughts,  words, 
and  actions  of  that  soul,  of  everything  that  it  had  done  for 
His  sake,  and  for  everything  there  was  treasured  up  for  it  a 
reward  in  Heaven — a  reward  such  as  no  eye  has  seen,  no  ear 
heard,  and  which  never  entered  into  man's  heart  to  con 
ceive.     But  the  storm  of  temptation  came,  the  soul  was 
shipwrecked  by  mortal  sin,  and  all  the  fair  treasures  were 
lost.     For  all  the  good  works   there  shall   be  no  reward. 
The  moment  we  commit  mortal  sin,  even  if  it  be  but  a  sin 
of  thought,  even  if  it  be  but  a  sin  of  a  moment,  that  very 
instant  we  lose  the  merit  of  all   the  good  works  we   have 
ever  performed,  even  including  those  of  the  days  of  child 
hood.     And  though  we  should  have  lived  for  a  hundred 
years  in  the  practice  of  the  most  rigorous  penance,  and  have 
acquired  the  virtues  and  merits  of  the  greatest  saints  in 
heaven,  we  lose  all  the  moment  we  commit  a  mortal  sin. 
This  is  no  exaggeration.     God  himself  declares  it  to  us  in 
the  plainest  terms:  "If  the  just  man  forsake  the  path  of 
justice  and  commit  sin,  I  shall  no  longer  remember  his  good 
works,  saii.li  the  Lord."  * 

' "  Ezech.  xviii.  2. 


70       THE  PRODIGAL'S  .DEPARTURE — MORTAL  >S7.v. 

What  an  incomparable  loss  !  All  the  merits  acquired 
during  so  many  years,  acquired  with  so  much  pain  and  so 
many  tears — merits  which  would  have  gained  for  us  in 
heaven  so  many  new  degrees  of  never-ending  glory — all  are 
lost ;  and  if  we  die  in  the  state  of  mortal  sin,  they  are  lofct 
for  ever. 

How  great  is  our  pain  if  we  lose  all  our  property  and  find 
ourselves  suddenly  reduced  to  beggary  !  How  great  is  our 
grief  when  we  are  forced  to  leave  our  native  land  !  How 
bitter  is  our  sorrow  when  we  have  to  part  from  a  beloved 
friend  or  relative,  from  a  kind  father  or  loving  mother  ! 
How  deeply  we  mourn  the  loss  of  her  who  watched  over 
us  in  childhood  !  And  for  what  have  we  lost  all  these 
treasures  ? 

For  what  have  we  lost  our  God  ?  For  the  merest  trifle  ; 
for  a  desire  ;  for  a  revenge ;  for  a  beastly,  a  momentary 
pleasure ;  for  a  paltry  gain.  If  a  man  breaks  in  pieces 
the  chairs  and  tables  and  all  the  articles  of  furniture  in  his 
house  ;  if  he  sets  his  house  on  fire,  and  burns  it  to  the 
ground  ;  if  he  throws  all  his  money  and  all  his  valuable 
treasures  into  the  river,  people  instantly  cry  out  that  he  has 
lost  his  senses.  They  seize  him.  bind  him,  and  carry  him 
away  to  the  mad-house.  Why  ?  Because  he  wilfully  de 
stroyed  his  own  property.  But  the  moment  we  commit  a 
mortal  sin  we  wilfully  destroy  all  our  treasures — treasures, 
too,  of  infinite  value.  We  cast  away  heaven,  our  soul,  our 
God.  We  have  acted  indeed  like  madmen,  and  unless  we 
strive  earnestly  to  recover  those  treasures,  we  shall  assuredly 
be  shut  up  in  that  frightful  mad -house,  in  that  dismal 
prison,  where  all  those  demented  ones  shall  be  confined  for 
ever,  who,  like  us,  have  foolishly  cast  away  their  souls  and 
their  God. 

By  mortal  sin  we  have  lost-  everything,  and  as  long  as  we 
remain  in  sin  our  arm  is  withered ;  we  cannot  earn  even  a 
single  merit  for  heaven.  By  our  good  works  we  may  indeed 


TUK  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN.       71 

obtain  the  grace  of  conversion,  but  we  shall  receive  110  re 
ward  for  them  in  the  other  life.  We  may  perform  as  many 
good  works  as  the  greatest  saints  that  ever  lived ;  yet,  as 
long  as  we  remain  in  mortal  sin,  we  shall  receive  no  reward 
for  them  in  hea^^en,  for  they  are  not  written  in  the  book  of 
life. 

Indeed,  when  living  in  the  state  of  mortal  sin,  onr  soul  is 
perishing  with  hunger.  The  Holy  Ghost  no  longer  inspires 
us  with  good  thoughts  and  pious  knowledge.  He  will  en 
lighten  the  mind,  but  at  long  intervals,  with  a  pale  and 
feeble  light,  like  that  of  a  winter's  sun.  In  proportion  as 
the  will  weakens  the  imagination  grows  strong,  and  fixes 
itself  without  restraint  on  foolish  and  dangerous  objects, 
until  at  length  the  beautiful  soul,  created  by  God  for  Him 
self  and  to  His  own  likeness,  finds  it  difficult  to  look  up  to 
its  divine  Creator  and  say  even  a  single  "  Our  Father." 
Turning  aside  from  its  Creator,  it  attaches  itself  to  crea 
tures,  and  grows  careless  about  the  great  business  of  salva 
tion.  It  finds  the  exercises  of  piety,  interior  and  exterior 
mortification,  obedience,  and  other  religious  duties,  tedious 
and  insupportable.  Like  the  lost  prodigal  who  has  wan 
dered  from  his  father's  house,  the  heart  craves  only  after 
the  husks  of  swine — sinful  pleasures.  And  as  we  have 
abandoned  our  Heavenly  Father,  He  allows  us  to  go  our 
way,  withdraws  His  special  and  sustaining  grace  from  us, 
and  contents  Himself  with  ordinary  solicitude,  so  that  the 
soul  is  in  great  danger  of  being  wounded  to  death.  God 
does  not  lead  the  soul  to  the  execution  of  any  good  designs, 
since  it  lias  none,  or,  if  it  has  some,  they  are  ineffectual,  and 
consequently  come  to  nothing.  He  leaves  the  soul  to  do  as 
it  pleases  in  spiritual  things;  to  dash  against  rocks — that 
is,  to  lavish  its  affections  on  creatures  who  may  become  iti 
utter  ruin. 

He  permits  the  devil  to  have  more  power  over  it,  to  in 
flame  the  passions,  to  darken  the  intellect.  Then  the  devil, 


72       THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL 

having  full  sway,  drives  the  soul  whithersoever  he  wills 
He  tells  it  to  stay  away  from  confession ;  to  enter  a  secret 
society  ;  to  go  to  the  bar-room,  to  the  gambling-saloon,  tc 
the  house  of  ill-fame ;  he  tells  it  to  commit  those  secret  and 
shameful  sins ;  and  it  does  the  devil's  bidding  in  all  things. 
And  thus  the  soul,  created  for  Heaven,  becomes  the  slave 
of  the  devil.  Re  is  ever  at  its  side.  He  holds  the  soul 
bound  fast  with  an  iron  chain.  Day  and  night  he  is  accus 
ing  it,  and  begging  God  to  suifer  him  to  take  it  with  him 
to  hell.  Many  have  been  found  dead  in  the  morning 
strangled  by  the  devil,  like  the  seven  husbands  of  Sara. 

Behold  what  happens  to  the  soul  when  God  withdraws  His 
succor  from  it !  He  does  not  fail,  it  is  true,  to  excite,  pro 
tect,  and  direct  it  in  the  ways  of  salvation  ;  but,  as  the  under 
standing  is  so  preoccupied,  the  will  so  taken  up  with  frivol 
ous  .things,  this  urging,  this  protection,  this  direction  of  God 
will  not  save  one  in  such  dispositions,  because  His  graces  are 
too  weak  and  too  few.  In  order  to  be  saved,  a  certain  num 
ber  of  graces  are  necessary  for  the  understanding  and  the 
will.  If  God  gives  them  to  us,  we  shall  certainly  be  saved. 
If  He  withdraws  them,  even  partially,  from  us,  we  shall 
infallibly  be  lost ;  because,  when  occasions  of  sin  present 
themselves,  we  fall,  and,  though  we  may  rise  again,  we  shall 
soon  relapse,  and  after  a  series  of  relapses  we  fall  at  length 
so  low  that  we  shall  never  be  able  to  rise  again. 

The  salvation  of  a  man  often  depends  on  a  small  thing, 
as  great  rivers  sometimes  have  insignificant  sources.  The 
torrent  of  our  misfortune  may  originate  in  a  very  trilling 
matter.  A  leak  can  destroy  a  ship ;  a  bad  lock  may  give 
entrance  to  thieves,  who  will  carry  off.  the  accumulated 
treasures  of  years.  To  kill  a  man,  the  sword,  fire,  or  pesti 
lence  is  not  always  necessary.  A  crumb  of  bread,  an  insect, 
may  do  it,  if  God  did  not  prevent  it.  A  man,  quietly  return 
ing  to  his  house,  encounters  his  enemy :  a  quarrel  ensues  ; 
swords  are  drawn,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  is  a  corpse. 


THE  PRODIGALS  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN.      73 

A  traveller  sees  two  rouds ;  he  takes  what  seems  to  him  the 
better  one  ;  but  it  leads  to  a  wood  in  which  robbers  are  con 
cealed,  who  rush  out  upon  him,  and  take  away  his  life. 
Had  he  taken  the  other  road,  he  would  have  remained  un 
harmed.  Similar  accidents  are  of  daily  occurrence,  which 
would  not  happen  if  God  gave  an  inspiration.  That  He 
does  not  give,  because  men  rejected  Him  when  they  com 
mitted  mortal  sin,  and  thus  rendered  themselves  unworthy 
of  such  an  inspiration. 

By  mortal  sin  we  outrage  the  Most  High  God ;  we  lose 
His  grace;  we  lose  the  merits  of  all  our  good  works;  we 
lose  Paradise.  By  sin,  the  mind  becomes  darkened,  the 
heart  grows  hardened  in  crime,  and,  finally,  the  sinner 
dies  impenitent,  and  is  condemned  to  the  never-ending  tor 
ments  of  hell.  If  we  were  to  see  a  good  and  holy  man,  re 
nowned  for  his  wisdom,  for  his  justice,  who  loved  his  chil 
dren  with  the  most  tender  affection,  cast  some  of  his  be 
loved  children  into  a  fiery  furnace,  into  a  prison  of  frightful 
torments,  and  then  suffer  them  to  linger  on  in  the  most  excru 
ciating  torments,  in  the  agony  of  despair,  and  never  to  take 
pity  on  them,  relieve  them,  to  deliver  them  from  their  place 
of  suffering,  what  should  we  think  or  say  ?  How  enormous 
must  be  the  crime  which  could  deserve  such  a  punishment ! 
But  this  just,  wise,  and  loving  Father  is  God.  He  loved 
the  angels  with  unspeakable  love,  and  yet,  for  one  mortal 
sin,  He  cast  them  into  hell,  to  burn  there  for  all  eternity. 
And  it  is  God  who  does  this,  whose  justice  cannot  inflict 
greater  punishments  than  are  deserved,  whose  mercy  al 
ways  punishes  less  than  is  deserved,  whose  wisdom  can  do 
nothing  inconsiderately  and  without  reason,  and  whose 
sanctity  cannot  admit  of  either  passion  or  imperfection. 
And  yet  it  is  this  God,  so  just,  so  wise,  so  holy,  and  so 
good,  who  punishes  those  heavenly  spirits  with  so  much 
severity  as  soon  as  they  commit  a  mortal  sin— those  princes 
of  Heaven,  masterpieces  of  the  divine  Omnipotence,  adorned 


H       THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN. 

with  all  the  gifts  of  nature  and  of  grace,  whose  number 
surpasses  the  imagination,  who  would  have  loved  God  had 
they  been  able  to  repent,  with  an  eternal  and  unbounded  love 
—they  are  all,  without  a  single  exception,  cast  into  the  eter 
nal  flames  of  hell  for  one  single  sin  !  the  first  sin  ever  com 
mitted—committed  in  an  instant,  and  in  thought  alone. 
Alas  !  they  suffer  for  this  single  sin  a  chastisement  most 
frightful  in  its  intensity,  eternal  in  its  duration,  and  the 
most  dreadful  as  to  the  pain  of  loss  which  an  Almighty 
God  can  inflict  in  His  vengeance.  0  sin  !  what  a  dreadful 
evil  thou  art,  since  God  punished  thee  with  such  merciless 
rigor. 

Even  in  this  life  God  punishes  sin  with  frightful  rigor. 
When  He  created  man,  He  placed  him  in  a  paradise  of  de 
lights.  If  man  had  not  sinned,  he  would  have  continued 
to  live  there,  in  the  enjoyment  of  every  happiness;  and 
then,  without  dying,  he  would  have  passed  into  heaven. 
But  man  sinned,  and  by  sin  every  good  was  turned  to 
poison,  every  blessing  into  malediction,  all  his  happiness 
was  changed  into  woe,  and  this  earth  became  a  vale  of  tears, 
a  prison  of  death.  It  was  sin  that  caused  men  and  beasts 
to  be  swept  away  by  a  universal  deluge.  It  was  sin  that 
brought  down  fire  and  brimstone  from  Heaven  upon  the  im 
pious  cities  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrha.  It  was  sin  that 
scourged  Egypt  with  such  fearful  plagues.  It  is  sin  that  has 
brought  on  all  the  evils  that  now  afflict  mankind.  This  is 
an  article  of  faith.  "  Sin  brings  misery  upon  the  nations  of 
the  earth."  * 

Look  around  on  all  the  evils  that  now  afflict  mankind. 
Call  to  mind  all  the  evils  that  afflicted  the  world  in  past 
ages.  Imagine  all  the  evils  that  shall  befall  mankind  until 
the  end  of  the  world.  Unite  together  all  diseases  and  pov 
erty,  all  the  tears  and  sadness,  all  the  passions  and  ignorance, 
all  the  quarrels  and  hatred,  all  the  famine  and  pestilence, 
*  Psalms  xiv.  84. 


TUE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE— MORTAL  SIN.       75 

the  wars  and  earthquakes.  Heap  together  in  one  vast 
mound  all  the  bones  that  are  now  mouldering  in  their  graves, 
collect  together  the  scattered  dust  of  all  the  dead  that  have 
mouldered  in  ages  long  past,  and  then  say  to  yourself  :  All 
this  misery,  all  this  ruin,  is  the  just  punishment  of  sin.  Sin 
brings  on  sickness,  shortens  man's  life,  and  leads  to  an  un 
happy  death.  The  Holy  Ghost  assures  us  that  sinners  shall 
die  before  their  time.*  JSTor  is  this  strange,  for  sin  is  the 
sting  of  death ;  its  wound  is  always  deadly.  Sin  often  ex 
terminates  entire  families,  so  that,  after  a  few  generations, 
not  a  vestige  of  them  remains  on  the  earth,  f  What  de 
stroyed  the  Chanaanites  and  Amorrhites  in  Palestine  ? 
Their  crimes.  The  measure  of  their  iniquities  was  full. 
What  tore  the  sceptre  from  Saul  and  his  race  ?  The  sin  of 
disobedience  to  God's  commands.  What  robbed  Roboam  of 
ten  of  his  provinces  ?  The  sin  of  idolatry  of  his  father  Solo 
mon.  What  took  the  great  Nabuchodonosor  from  his 
throne,  despoiled  him  of  his  purple,  and  reduced  ,him  for 
•  seven  years  to  the  condition  of  a  beast  ?  The  sin  of  pride, 
with  which  he  was  inflated  beyond  measure.  Intemperance, 
vanity,  and,  above  all,  the  sacrilege  committed  by  the  pro 
fanation  of  the  sacred  vessels  of  the  temple,  deprived  Bal- 
tassar,  the  son  of  Nabuekadonosor,  of  his  kingdom  and  of 
his  crown. 

Where,  to-day,  are  the  powerful  and  wealthy  empires  of 
the  Assyrians,  Medes,  Greeks,  and  Romans  ?  Where  the 
great  Republic  of  Carthage,  which  so  long  disputed  the  sway 
of  Rome  ?  What  has  become  of  the  famous  cities,  the  su 
perb  republics,  the  great  Troy,  the  wise  Athens,  the  stern 
Sparta,  the  rich  Thebes,  the  gay  Corinth  ?  They  are  no 
more.  There  remains  of  them  only  what  is  found  in  history. 
If  the  question  be  asked  :  "  Why  were  those  mighty  cities 
destroyed— the  powerful  republics  and  nourishing  empires 
overthrown  ?  "  it  may  be  answered,  that  time,  which  destroys 
*  Psalms  x.  27.  t  Psalms  iii.  88. 


76       THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN. 

all  things,  that  fire,  war,  and  enemies,  have  brought  about 
these  misfortunes.  But  it  may  be  said,  with  more  truth,  that 
their  sins  have  been  the  time  that  destroyed,  the  fires  which 
devastated,  the  wars  which  exterminated,  the  enemies  that 
depopulated  them.  For,  as  the  wise  man  says,  "  Virtue 
elevates  a  nation  and  sin  renders  the  people  miserable. ": 
„"  Kingdoms  pass  from  one  people  to  another,"  empires 
'change  masters,  "because  of  injustice."  f 

Clovis,  who  was  the  first  king  of  the  Franks  to  embrace 
Christianity,  asked  St.  Kemigius  how  long  his  kingdom 
would  last.  "  As  long,  sire,  as  religion  and  justice  flourish 
in  it,"  replied  the  holy  bishop.  When  Charles  VII.,  by  the 
special  assistance  of  Heaven,  had  delivered  France  from  the 
dominion  of  the  English,  a  Frenchman  thus  rallied  an  Eng 
lishman  :  "  When  will  you  come  back  to  France  and  recon 
quer  it?"  "When  your  sins  shall  be  greater  than  ours," 
was  the  reply. 

What  is  true  of  kingdoms  and  republics  is  true  also  of 
private  houses  and  families.  How  often  do  rich  and  noble 
families  fall  suddenly  or  perish'  insensibly,  and  sometimes  by 
unknown  and  secret  ways  !  What  is  the  cause,  of -their  fall  ? 
Without  doubt,  it  is  sin.  The  foundation  of  these  houses  is 
worth  nothing ;  they  are  built  on  injustice,  ambition,  and 
other  crimes.  They  cannot  last  long  ;  they  must  necessarily 
fall.  "  If  the  Lord  build  not  the  house/''  says  Holy  Writ, 
"  they  labor  in  vain  that  build  it."J 

Nicephorus  Phocas,  Emperor  of  Constantinople,  after 
having  employed  all  the  resources  of  art  to  render  his  palace 
impregnable,  heard,  one  night,  a  voice  from  the  sea-shore 
saying  :  "Emperor,  thou  buildest  high  walls  ;  but  though 
thou  shouldst  raise  them  to  the  heavens,  it  will  always  be 
easy  to  take  thy  city,  because  sin  is  within  it."  And,  in 
fact,  the  very  day  the  fortifications  were  completed,  the 
very  day  they  brought  him  the  keys,  this  unfortunate  prince 
*  Prov.  iv.  t  Ecchis.  x.  8.  t  Psalms  cxxvi.  1. 


Tn K  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN.      77 

was  assassinated.  His  sins  drew  upon  him  the  terrible  ef 
fects  of  God's  vengeance  ;  lie  was  suddenly  deprived  of  his 
honors,  his  riches,  his  empire,  and  his  life. 

Life  is  the  last  temporal  blessing  which  is  ruined  by  sin  ; 
for  is  not  sin  the  author  of  death  ?  "  God  has  not  made 
death,"  says  Holy  Scripture.  Death  proceeds  not  from  the 
soul,  for  the  soul  is  immortal.  Death  conies  not  from  the 
body,  for  though  the  body  be  composed  of  elements  which 
war  continually  to  destroy  it,  yet,  by  a  special  privilege 
God  gave  it  at  the  moment  of  creation,  it  is  incorrupti 
ble  and  immortal.  "  God  made  man  never  to  die,"  says 
Holy  Writ.  Sin,  then,  is  necessarily  the  only  cause  of 
death.  To  punish  sin,  God  deprived  man  of  the  great  gift 
of  immortality  which  he  had  given  him,  and  subjected  him 
to  death,  that  it  might  do  to  him  what  it  could,  in  the  way 
of  nature,  indeed,  but  still  in  the  form  of  a  chastisement. 
This  it  was  which  caused  St.  Paul  to  say :  "  By  one  man  sin 
entered  the  world,  and  by  sin,  death."  ' 

If  the  sin  of  Adam  caused  the  death  of  all  men,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  the  sins  which  men  themselves  commit  Las- 
ten  their  own  end,  as  we  see  by  many  examples.  God  often 
punishes  sins  by  depriving  us  of  a  fond  parent  or  a  beloved 
child.  "  Behold  the  days  come,"  said  God  to  the  high-priest 
Heli,  "  and  I  will  cut  off  thy  arm,  and  the  arm  of  thy  father's 
house,  that  there  shall  not  be  an  old  man  in  thy  house!"  f 
"The  fear  of  the  Lord  lengthens  days,"  says  the  wise  man, 
"but  the  years  of  the  impious  shall  be  shortened."  "Sin 
ners,"  says  holy  Job,  "have  been  taken  from  the  world  be 
fore  their  time  was  come."  Their  sins  sapped  the  princi 
ples  of  life,  as  a  river  undermines  the  foundation  of  a  wall. 

Whithersoever  we  turn  our  eyes,  we  behold  the  sad  effects 

of  sin,  and  the  infinite  hatred  God  bears  to  sin.     If  we  look 

up  to  heaven,  we  shall  see  that  its  brightest  angels  have 

been  cast  out  for  one  single  mortal  sin.    If  we  look  into  Par- 

*  Rom.  v.  13.  1 1  Kings  ii.  31. 


78       THE  PRODIGAL'S  DKPAHTURE — MORTAL  /SIN. 

adise,  we  sliall  sec  how  our  first  parents  were  banished  from 
that  abode  of  happiness  for  one  single  mortal  sin.  If  we 
look  upon  the  earth,  we  shall  see  it  consumed  by  fire  from 
heaven,  and  all  on  account  of  mortal  sin.  If  we  look  into 
the  abyss  of  hell,  we  shall  see  torments  there,  and  hear 
howling  and  gnashing  of  teeth  for  ever  and  ever,  and  all  on 
account  of  mortal  sin.  But  neither  in  heaven,  nor  on  earth, 
nor  in  hell,  nowhere  in  the  wide  universe,  is  the  dread 
effect  of  sin  so  fearfully  displayed  as  on  Mount  Calvary. 
So  great  is  the  enormity  of  one  mortal  sin  that  it  has  brought 
on  the  earth  all  the  misery  and  woe  that  men  have  suffered 
since  the  beginning  of  the  world  and  that  they  will  suffer 
till  the  day  of  doom.  So  great  is  the  malice  of  one  mortal 
sin,  that  it  kept  Heaven  closed  against  us  for  four  thousand 
years,  and  it  has  opened  wide  the  mouth  of  hell,  which 
never  ceases  to  swallow  up  its  countless  victims.  Yea, 
so  great  is  the  enormity  of  one  mortal  sin,  that  God  Himself 
had  to  become  man,  God  Himself  had  to  suffer  and  to  die, 
in  order  to  atone  for  its  effects.  All  the  labors,  all  the  suf 
ferings,  and  all  the  virtues  of  the  saints  would  not  have 
sufficed  to  cancel  one  single  mortal  sin.  Had  millions  of 
the  holiest  souls  endured,  with  incredible  patience  and  con 
stancy,  torments  more  acute  than  the  fire  of  hell,  in  order 
to  blot  out  one  mortal  sin,  they  would  not  have  been  able  to 
expiate  it.  Nay,  had  the  whole  universe  been  drowned  in 
the  blood  of  human  victims,  no  sin  would  thereby  have  been 
blotted  out  and  forgiven.  God  could  not  be  appeased  except 
by  the  shedding  of  the  Blood  divine,  by  the  death  of  His 
only-begotten  Son,  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

"  In  vain  the  lambs  poured  forth  their  blood, 
In  vain  the  smoking  altars  stood, 
All  unatoned  was  sin ; 
Must  greater  be  the  sacrifice 
Before  the  gate  of  Paradise 
Can  let  the  fallen  in. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN.       79 

"  The  Lord  of  life  His  life  must  give 
That  man  an  endless  life  may  live, 
And  death's  dark  doom  reverse. 
The  Cross  is  made  the  mystic  tree 
The  Blood  that  flowed  on  Calvary, 
Hath  washed  away  the  curse." 

It  is  of  faith  that  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  Eternal 
Father,  suffered  and  died,  in  order  to  atone  for  the  sins  of  the 
world.  Jesus  was  most  innocent  and  holy ;  Jesus  was  the  only 
Son  of  God,  and  God  loved  Him  with  an  infinite  love;  and 
yet,  because  Jesus  charged  Himself  with  all  our  sins,  be 
cause  lie  took  upon  Himself  the  semblance  of  a  sinner,  God 
punished  Him  with  merciless  rigor.  On  the  night  of  His 
bitter  Passion,  when  our  Blessed  Redeemer  knelt  in  the  gar 
den  of  Olives,  His  soul  was  sad  unto  death ;  His  face  deadly 
pale  ;  He  trembled  in  every  limb,  and  in  His  agony  His 
heart's  blood  oozed  out  through  every  pore  of  His  body.  He 
struggled  and  prayed  ;  He  wept  and  implored  His  Heavenly 
Father  to  deliver  Him  from  the  shame,  from  the  torments 
that  awaited  Him.  "  0  my  Father  I  if  it  be  possible,  take 
away  this  chalice  from  me."  But  no  ;  God's  outraged  jus 
tice  must  be  satisfied.  Jesus  has  taken  upon  Himself  all 
our  sins  ;  He  must  also  endure  all  our  punishment.  God 
treats  His  own  beloved  Son  with  justice,  without  meroy,  in 
order  that  He  might  treat  us  with  unbounded  mercy.  For 
our  sukes,  God  delivered  up  His  own  beloved  Son  to  the  fury 
of  His  enemies  ;  to  all  the  malice  of  the  demons ;  to  the 
most  infamous  outrages  ;  to  the  most  atrocious  punish 
ments.  For  our  sakes  He  made  His  only-begotten  Son  to 
become  an  object  of  horror  and  malediction ;  for  it  is  written 
in  the  Word  of  God,  "Accursed  is  he  who  hangs  on  the 
cross."  *  And  Jesus,  the  God  of  all  glory,  hung  on  the 
cross,  and  died  thereon  because  we  sinned. 

Alas!  every  one  condemns  the  conduct  of  the  prodigal ; 
*  Deut.  21-23. 


80       THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN. 

every  one  detests  his  black  ingratitude.  But,  after  these 
considerations,  what  conduct  more  blameworthy,  more 
damnable,  what  ingratitude  more  detestable  and  abominable 
than  that  of  a  Christian  who  commits  mortal  sin  ?  Let  us 
turn  to  ourselves  and  see  what  we  have  done.  God  has 
given  us  a  being  far  supeiior  to  all  that  we  can  see  in 
nature.  He  has  given  us  a  soul  that  can  never  die.  He 
nas  made  us  like  Himself,  free,  intelligent,  immortal.  He 
preserves  and  nourishes  us  from  day  to  day,  every  hour, 
every  moment  of  our  existence.  He  watches  over  us  as  the 
apple  of  His  eye.  But,  more  than  all  this,  He  has  made  us 
His  children ;  He  has  made  us  Christians  ;  He  has  chosen 
us  to  be  of  His  royal  race  of  priests — that  holy  nation,  that 
chosen  people,  whom  He  Himself  has  purchased,  not  with 
silver  and  gold,  but  with  His  own  precious  blood.  Thou 
sands  and  thousands  lie  buried  in  the  darkness  of  heresy  and 
idolatry,  and  God  has  chosen  us,  in  preference  to  them  all, 
to  be  children  of  His  own  true  Church.  He  has  given  us 
His  angels  to  be  our  guides.  He  has  given  us  His  own  dear 
Mother  to  be  our  loving  Mother.  He  has  fed  us  with  His 
own  divine  flesh,  and  nourished  us  with  His  own  loving 
heart's  blood.  He  has  prepared  for  us  a  heaven,  where  we 
shall  reign  with  Him  as  kings  in  never-ending  happiness, 
in  the  brightness  of  eternal  glory.  He  has  promised  even 
to  give  Himself  to  us  as  our  exceeding  great  reward.  And 
what  return  have  we  made  for  all  these  favors  ?  God  has 
given  us  food  and  drink,  and  we  have  abused  these  gifts  by 
eating  meat  on  forbidden  days,  by  gluttony,  by  drunken 
ness.  God  has  given  us  reason  and  a  free  will,  and  we  have 
made  them  the  slaves  of  the  most  foolish  superstition,  the 
most  degrading  passions.  We  have  defiled  our  memory  and 
our  imagination  by  the  most  shameful  thoughts  and  images. 
God  has  given  us  eyes  to  gaze  on  the  beautiful  works  of  His 
creation,  and  afterwards  to  see  Him  face  to  face  in  heaven ; 
and  we  have  dimmed  those  eyes  by  gazing  on  immodest 


THE  PR  ODIGA  L'S  DEPARTURE— MOR  TAL  SIN.      8 1 

books  and  pictures  and  sinful  objects.     God  has  given  us 
our  ears,  that  we  might  listen  with  pleasure  to  His  word, 
and  hereafter  drink  in  with  joy  the  sweet  harmonies  of  the 
blessed ;  and  we  have  made  those  ears  deaf  to  Him  by  listen 
ing  to  slander,  to  uncharitable  discourses,  and  immodest  con 
versation.     God  has  given  us  a  tongue,  that  we  might  pray 
to  Him,  praise  Him,  and  bless  Him  ;  and  how  of  ten  have  we 
polluted  that  tongue  by  curses  and  blasphemies,  by  false 
oaths,  by  slander,  by  immodest  songs  and  discourses  !     God 
has  given  us  hands,  that  we  might  help  the  poor,  that  we 
might  lift  them  up  in  holy  prayer  ;  and  we  have  soiled  those 
hands    by  fraud  .  and  injustice  and   secret  abominations. 
God  has  given  us  our  feet  to  bear  us  to  the  house  of  God,  and 
we  have  used  them  to  hasten  to  the  theatre,  the  ball-room, 
and    to   those   low   haunts   of   sin    and   shame   which   are 
the  very  hot-beds  of  vice.     God  has  given  us  a  heart,  that  we 
might  love  Him  in  this  life  and  the  next ;  and  we  have  loved 
some  weak,  sinful  creature  even  more  than  God.     God  has 
given  us  a  body,  to  be  the  living  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost ; 
and  see  how  we  have  corrupted  that  body  by  the  most  shame 
ful  excesses.    Let  us  look  back  upon  our  past  life.    See  how 
often  God  has  preserved  us  from  death  and  hell.     God  has 
made  us  His  children  in  baptism,  and  in  return  we  have  cruci 
fied  Him  by  our  sins.    God  has  given  us  the  sacrament  of  pen 
ance,  and  the  precious  body  and  blood  of  His  only-begotten 
Son  to  wash  away  our  sins  ;   and  by  our  bad  confessions,  by 
our  unworthy  communions,  we  have  trampled  on  the  body 
and  blood  of  Jesus  Christ.     God  has  given  us  the  sacrament 
of  marriage,  to  preserve  us  from  sin  and  to  sanctify  us  ;  and 
we  have  dishonored  that  sacrament  by  marrying  a  heretic, 
by  marrying  out  of  the  Church,  by  being  married  in  a  state 
of  sin,  without  even  going  to  confession  ;  we  have  degraded 
this  sacrament  by  many  abominable  sins  committed  under  the 
feil  of  marriage.     Ah  !  is  this  the  return  we  make  to  God 
for  all  His  favors  ?    Listen  to  the  sad  complaint  of  God,  our 


82       THE  PRODIGAL'S  DEPARTURE — MORTAL  SIN. 

Heavenly  Father  :  "  Ah  ! "  He  says,  "  had  my  enemy  done 
this,  had  pagans  and  heretics  dishonored  and  reviled  me 
thus,  I  might 'have  borne  with  it ;  but  you,  my  friend — my 
bosom  friend — you,  whom  I  have  adopted  as  my  child  in 
baptism;  you,  whom  I  have  chosen  to  be  my  living  temple, 
my  dwelling-place  ;  you,  whom  I  have  sanctified  with,  my 
graces,  whom  I  have  nourished  with  my  own  heart's  blood ; 
you,  for  whom  I  had  prepared  a  crown  and  a  throne  in 
heaven — that  you  should  dishonor  me,  should  crucify  me 
by  your  sins  !  This  indeed  is  the  blackest  ingratitude." 
ISIo  wonder,  then,  that  St.  Mary  Magdalene  de  Pazzi  said,  on 
her  death-bed,  that  she  could  never  understand  how  a  man 
could  dare  commit  a  mortal  sin.  Indeed,  what  breast  so 
savage  as  not  to  detest  mortal  sin — as  not  to  be  afraid  of 
that  soul-killing  monster?  If,  after  these  reflections,  we 
can  still  yield  to  our  passions  and  commit  sin,  we  are 
hopeless,  we  are  beyond  redemption,  and  must  prepare  for 
that  hell  which  the  devil,  for  whom  it  was  first  created,  had 
merited  by  such  obdurate  malignity.  Let  our  eyes  weep 
bitter  tears  for  having  gazed  immodestly  on  forbidden 
objects.  Let  our  face  grow  pale  with  grief,  which  blushed 
with  sinful  passion.  Let  our  lips  now  move  in  prayer,  which 
were  moved  so  often  with  unchaste  words.  Let  our  heart, 
which  glowed  so  long  with  sinful  desires,  be  now  crushed 
and  broken  with  unbounded  sorrow. 


CHAPTER    VI. 
THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

ON  arriving  in  the  strange  country  the  prodigal  plunged 
immediately  into  bad  company.  He  passed  his  time 
and  squandered  his  money  among  those  lost  creatures — the 
disgrace  of  their  sex — whose  life  is  dishonor  and  whose  end 
is  eternal  torments.  "This  thy  son  hath  devoured  his 
substance  with  harlots."  *  Alas  I  the  prodigal  has  many 
followers.  Every  one  who  likes  to  associate  with  the  im 
pure  will  soon  be  infected  with  their  impurities. 

"  Evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners."  Why  is 
it  that  the  association  with  the  wicked  corrupts  our  manners 
and  our  morals  ?  We  meet  a  wicked  man ;  we  hold  inter 
course  with  him,  and  are  never  after  what  we  were  before. 
We  feel  that  something  has  gone  forth  from  him  and  en 
tered  into  our  life,  so  that  we  are  not,  and  can  never  be 
again,  the  man  we  were  before  we  met  him.  What  is  the 
explanation  of  this  fact  ?  How  happens  it  that  we  are  bene 
fited  by  intercourse  with  the  good,  and  injured  by  inter 
course  with  the  bad  ?  How  is  it  that  one  man  is  able  to  in 
fluence  another,  whether  for  good  or  for  evil  ?  What  is  the 
meaning  of  influence  itself  ?  Influence— inflowing,  flowing 
in.  What  is  this  but  the  fact  that  man  is  a  being  whose 
life  is  dependent  on  an  exterior  object  ?  God  alone  can  live 
in,  from,  and  by  Himself,  uninfluenced  and  unaffected  by 
anything  distinguishable  from  His  own  being.  But  man  is 
not  God.  He  is  a  dependent  being,  yet  free  to  choose  good 
•  Luke  xv.  80. 


81        THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

or  evil ;  to  side  with  God  or  with  the  devil ;  to  follow  truth 
or  falsehood,  light  or  darkness ;  to  embrace  virtue  or  vice, 
hi  consequence  of  the  fall  of  Adam,  he  feels  more  inclined 
for  evil  than  for  good.  Baptism,  indeed,  cancels  original 
sin  in  our  soul,  but  it  does  not  destroy  our  natural  inclina 
tion  to  evil,  which  we  have  inherited  from  our  first  parents. 
The  great  Apostle  St.  Paul  bears  witness  to  this  when  he 
says  :  _"I  do  not  that  good  which  I  will,  but  the  evil  which 
I  hate,  that  I  do."*  That  is  to  say,  1  do  not  wish  to  do 
evil ;  I  even  try  to  avoid  it;  but  I  experience  within  myself 
a  continual  inclination  to  evil ;  I  endeavor  to  do  good,  but 
I  feel  within  myself  a  great  reluctance  thereto,  and  I  musl 
do  violence  to  myself  in  order  to  act  aright.  Every  one  hay 
from  his  childhood  experienced  this  evil  inclination.  We 
naturally  feel  more  inclined  to  anger  than  to  meekness,  to 
disobedience  than  to  submission ;  we  are  more  prone  to 
hatred  than  to  love  ;  more  inclined  to  gratify  the  evil  desires 
of  our  heart  than  to  practise  the  holy  virtue  of  purity;  wo 
prefer  our  own  ease  to  visiting  Jesus  Christ  in  the  Blessed 
Sacrament,  or  receiving  Him  in  the  Holy  Communion.  Wo 
are  naturally  indifferent  toward  God  and  His  religion  ;  we 
lack  fervor  in  His  divine  service ;  we  often  feel  more  in 
clined  to  join  a  forbidden  society  than  to  enter  a  pious  con 
fraternity  ;  we  often  find  more  pleasure  in  reading  a  bad  or 
useless  book  than  one  that  is  good  and  edifying ;  we  are 
more  apt  to  listen  to  uncharitable  and  unbecoming  conver 
sation  than  to  the  word  of  God  ;  we  feel  naturally  more  in 
clined  to  vain-glory,  pride,  and  levity,  than  to  humility, 
self-control,  and  the  spirit  of  mortification. 

Now,  when  we  place  ourselves  wilfully  under  circum 
stances  in  which  this  natural  inclination  to  evil  is  nourished, 
so  strong  does  the  inclination  become  that  it  is  morally 
impossible  to  resist  it.  Charles,  King  of  Navarre,  was  once 
affected  with  great  weakness  of  the  nerves.  By  order  of  the 

*  Rom  vii.  15. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY.        Hf> 

physician  he  was  sewed  up  in  cloths  moistened  with  brainy, 
in  order  that  by  this  strengthening  stimulant  his  cool  nerves 
might  be  heated  and  his  drooping  spirits  raised.  But  die 
attendant  who  sewed  the  cloths  unfortunately  burned  oft  the 
thread  with  a  candle,  and  the  linen  took  fire  with  such  fury 
that  there  was  no  means  of  saving  the  poor  prince.  In  a 
few  moments  he  was  but  a  cinder.  We  must  bear  in  mind 
that  our  soul  is  wrapped  up  in  weak  flesh,  as  in  a  cloth,  not 
moistened  with  brandy,  but  with  something  a  thousand 
times  more  inflammable — with  the  passion  of  lust.  If  we 
bring  our  soul  too  near  the  fire  of  sinful  occasions,  it  will 
immediately  take  fire.  The  very  presence,  the  very  sight,  of 
that  person  for  whom  passion  is  felt,  has  a  fascinating  power. 
A  moment's  conversation,  a  single  word,  a  look,  a  gesture, 
casts  a  spark  of  impure  fire  into  the  innocent  soul ;  and  that 
fire  is  soon  fanned  into  a  fierce  flame  that  may  never  be  ex 
tinguished.  There  are  some  who  say  that  the  sin  of  im 
purity  is  but  a  small  evil,  a  human  weakness.  But  who 
are  those  who  say  so  ?  Ah  !  it  is  only  the  impure,  the  un 
chaste. 

The  law  of  nature,  written  in  every  man's  heart — the 
voice  of  conscience — tells  him  that  it  is  a  sin  to  defile  his 
soul  and  body  by  the  shameful  vice  of  impurity.  Every 
one  is  born  with  a  natural  sense  of  modesty.  A  certain 
feeling  of  shame  restrains  the  heart,  as  yet  unsullied,  from 
every  thought,  word,  and  action.  The  honest  blood  rushes 
from  the  puic  heart  and  mantles  the  flushing  cheek  when 
ever  anything  immodest  is  spoken  of  or  hinted  at.  The 
voice  of  conscience  warns  every  one  before  he  commits  the 
shameful  deed.  And  when  at  last,  after  long  and  fearful 
struggles,  a  pure  man  has  unhappily  consented  to  sin,  his 
feelings  of  shame,  of  agony,  and  remorse  torture  and  cru 
cify  him. 

Where  is  the  man  who  docs  not  feel  and  know  for  certain 
that  the  vice  of  impurity  dt-filns  and  dishonors  him  ?  Where 


80        THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS— IMPURITY. 

is  the  man  who,,  after  having  committed  the  foul  deed,  does 
not  feel  degraded  in  his  own  eyes — whose  conscience  does 
not  torture  and  reproach  him  ?  Where  is  the  man  who, 
after  having  gratified  his  vile  passion,  does  not  feel  how 
empty  and  drear  his  heart  is — how  poor  and  wretched  this 
sin  has  made  him  ? 

The  libertine  seeks  the  most  secret  nook,  the  darkest 
night,  to  cover  and  conceal  his  infamy.  He  strives  to  hide 
the  blush  of  shame  beneath  the  fall  of  darkness  and  secrecy. 
He  whispers  into  the  ear  of  his  unhappy  victim,  "  No  one 
sees  us ;"  but  he  forgets  that  there  is  an  Eye  that  sees  all, 
that  there  is  One  before  whom  the  darkest  night  is  as  the 
broad  light  of  day.  Why  does  he  act  thus  ?  It  is  because 
his  own  conscience  condemns  his  foul  actions. 

Among  the  old  heathen  tribes  in  Germany  and  Gaul,  if  a 
young  girl  lost  her  innocence,  her  father  had  the  power  to 
put  her  to  death,  and  thus  wash  away  the  stain  of  dishonor 
from  his  family.  St.  Boniface  tells  us,  in  his  letter  to  King 
Ethelbald  of  Mercia,  that  it  was  a  custom  and  law  among 
the  Saxons  that  if  a  girl  dishonored  her  family  or  a  woman 
proved  faithless  to  her  husband,  the  unhappy  wretch  was 
forced  to  take  a  rope  and  hang  herself.  Her  infamous  body 
was  then  cut  down  and  burned.  The  villain  that  had  ruin 
ed  the  unhappy  creature  was  then  dragged  to  the  spot  and 
hanged  like  a  dog  over  the  smoking  ashes  of  her  whom  he 
had  ruined.  In  other  places,  whenever  a  woman  fell  into 
sin,  all  the  women  of  the  place  gathered  around  the  guilty 
one,  drove  her  from  place  to  place,  and  scourged  her  till  at 
last  she  fell  bleeding  and  exhausted  to  the  ground. 

Another  ancient  law  decrees  that  "if  a  woman  prove 
faithless  to  her  husband,  both  she  and  her  seducer  shall  be 
dragged  to  the  place  of  execution.  There  a -grave  is  dug 
seven  feet  long  and  seven  feet  deep,  and  filled  with  sharp 
thorns.  The  guilty  pair  are  tied  together  and  hurled  into 
the  grave.  A  long,  sharp  stake  is  then  driven  through  their 


THE  PROVTGAL'S  COMPAMOXS — IMPURITY.         8? 

yet  living  bodies,  the  earth  is  then  heaped  over  them,  and 
they  are  left  there  to  perish." 

Why  is  it  that  Ave  lind  even  among  the  heathens  such 
severe  punishments  inflicted  upon  the  impure?  It  is  be 
cause  they  knew  by  the  light  of  reason  how  heinous  and 
shameful  a  crime  the  sin  of  impurity  was. 

What  is  it  that  gives  the  young  man,  and  especially  the 
young  woman,  their  freshness,  their  beauty,  their  loveli 
ness  ?  Is  it  not  innocence,  purity  of  heart,  stainless  vir 
ginity  ?  This  heavenly  virtue  casts  around  them  a  halo  of 
glory  that  nothing  else  can  give. 

But  if  this  lustre  is  once  lost,  if  the  lily  of  purity  once 
withers  and  dies,  what  can  replace  it  ?  That  young  woman, 
with  all  her  beauty,  with  all  her  finery,  is  but  an  ornament 
ed  corpse,  a- gilded  tomb  wreathed  with  flowers;  without 
all  fair,  but  within  full  of  mould  and  stench  and  rottenness. 
Of  what  avail  are  all  her  ornaments,  her  silks  and  satins, 
her  gold  and  precious  stones,  if  she  has  lost  the  greatest 
ornament  of  all — her  virtue  ?  All  these  are  but  the  sym 
bols,  the  fit  ornaments,  of  a  chaste  and  noble  heart.  On 
those  who  have  lost  their  innocence  they  are  but  a  glar 
ing  mockery,  the  sad  remembrance  of  what  their  wearer 
once  was  and  might  have  been.  Away,  then,  with  cost 
ly  trappings  —  the  price,  perhaps,  of  lost  honor;  they 
are  but  the  flimsy  tinsel  that  covers  a  vile  and  degraded 
heart. 

''Your  bodies,"  says  St.  Paul,  "are  the  living  temples  of 
the  Holy  Ghost."  What  a  crime  it  is  to  profane  the 
church,  to  dishonor  the  sacred  chalice  or  ciborium  !  But 
how  much  more  enormous  is  the  sin  of  a  Christian  who 
dishonors  his  soul  and  body  by  the  sin  of  impurity  !  If  it 
be  a  sacrilege  to  profane  the  material  temple  of  God,  the 
lifeless  vases  consecrated  to  his  service,  how  much  greater 
Js  the  crime  of  him  who  profanes  the  living  temple  of  God  ; 
how  much  greater  is  the  crime  of  him  who  defiles  his  soul 


88        THK  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

and  body,  which  are  consecrated  to  God  by  the  most  inh 
mate  union  with  Him  ! 

Let  us  be  mindful  of  our  dignity.  Our  soul  was  made 
the  image  of  God  in  creation  and  to  the  likeness  of  God  in 
baptism.  The  vice  of  impurity  especially  defiles  and  dis* 
honors  the  soul  and  degrades  it  to  the  likeness  of  the  brute. 

"Your  bodies,"  says  St.  Paul,  "are  members  of  the 
body  of  Christ. "  *  Your  body  has  become  intimately  united 
with  Jesus  Christ  in  baptism,  but  more  especially  in 
Holy  Communion.  You  can  say  with  truth,  especially  after 
having  received  Holy  Communion,  that  the  blood  of  a  God 
flows  in  your  veins.  What  an  unspeakable  honor  !  Men 
boast  of  their  ancestry.  They  are  proud  of  royal  blood  and 
the  blood  of  heroes.  How  great,  then,  is  the  honor  of  a 
Christian  in  whose  veins  flows  the  blood  of  the  King  of 
kings — the  blood  of  God !  What  a  burning  shame,  then, 
what  a  horrible  sacrilege,  is  it  for  a  Christian  to  defile  his 
body  and  soul  by  the  foul  vice  of  impurity  !  By  committing 
that  sin  he  dishonors  Jesus  Christ.  He  causes  Jesus,  the  God 
of  purity,  to  serve  him  in- his  sins.  He  takes  the  members  of 
the  body  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  Apostle  assures  us,  and  makes 
of  them  the  members  of  a  harlot.*  This  crime,  as  St.  Paul  the 
Apostle  assures  us,  is  so  great  that  it  should  not  be  even 
named  among  Christians.  Now,  if  it  be  forbidden  even  to 
name  this  sin,  what  must  it  be  to  commit  it  ?  "  Do  not  err," 
says  St.  Paul :  "neither  fornicators,  nor  adulterers,  nor  the 
effeminate  shall  possess  the  kingdom  of  God."f  "Whatso 
ever  sin  you  name,"  says  St.  Isidore,  "  you  shall  find  no 
thing  equal  to  this  crime."  f  Indeed,  "There  is  nothing 
more  vile  or  degrading," says  St.  Jerome,  "than  to  allow 
one's  self  to  be  conquered  by  the  flesh. "  In  the  lives  of  the 
ancient  Fathers  it  is  related  §  that  a  certain  hermit,  being 
once  favored  with  the  company  of  an  angel,  met  on  his 
way  the  fetid  carcass  of  a  dog.  The  angel  gave  no  sign  of 
*  1  Cor.  vi.  15.  +  1  Cor.  vi.  9.  t  Tom.  Orat.  xxi.  §  Part  li.  o.  viii. 


THE  PR ODIGAL'S  COMPA  NIONS — IMP  URITT.         89 

displeasure  at  the  smell  which  it  exhaled.  They  after 
wards  met  a  young  man  elegantly  dressed  and  highly  per 
fumed.  The  angel  stopped  his  nostrils.  Being  asked  by 
the  hermit  why  he  did  so,  he  answered  that  the  young  man, 
on  account  of  the  vice  of  impurity  in  which  he  indulged, 
sent  forth  a  far  more  intolerable  stench  than  the  putrid  dog 
which  they  had  passed. 

"In  no  sin,"  says  St.  Thomas,  "does  the  devil  delight  so 
much  as  in  sins  against  chastity"  (i.  ii.  q.  73,  a.  3).  The 
reason  why  the  devil  takes  so  much  delight  in  this  vice  is 
because  it  is  difficult  for  a  person  who  is  addicted  to  it  to 
be  delivered  from  it.  And  why  ?  Because  this  sin  so  blinds 
the  sinner  that  he  commits  it  oftener  than  any  other  sin. 
A  blasphemer  only  blasphemes  when  he  is  drunk  or  pro 
voked  to  anger.  The  assassin,  whose  trade  is  to  murder 
others,  does  not,  at  the  most,  commit  more  than  eight  or 
ten  homicides.  But  the  unchaste  are  guilty  of  an  unceasing 
torrent  of  sins,  by  thoughts,  by  words,  by  looks,  by  com 
placencies,  and  by  touches,  so  that  when  they  go  to  confes 
sion  they  find  it  impossible  to  tell  the  number  of  sins  they 
have  committed  against  chastity.  Even  in  their  sleep  the 
devil  represents  to  them  obscene  objects,  that  on  awaken 
ing  they  may  take  delight  in  them  ;  and,  being  the  slaves  of 
the  devil,  they  obey  him,  and  give  consent  to  his  evil  sug 
gestions.  "There  is,"  says  St.  Thomas,  "no  sinner  so 
ready  to  offend  God  as  the  votary  of  lust  is  "  on  every  occa 
sion  that  occurs  to  him.  To  other  sins,  such  as  blasphemy, 
murder,  and  slander,  men  are  not  prone  ;  but  to  this  vice 
of  impurity  nature  inclines  them,  and  therefore  it  is  so  easy 
to  contract  the  habit.  How  many  foundlings,  abortions, 
infanticides,  may  one  count  every  day  in  our  large  cities  ! 
How  few  young  couples  norne  with  pure  hearts  to  the  altar  ! 
How  many  lost  creatures  earn  a  livelihood  by  a  life  of  in 
famy  !  How  many  houses  of  shame  !  How  many  so-called 
fashionable  houses  of  assignation  in  every  city — houses  of 


90         THE  PRODIGAL  s  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

infamy  not  only  for  hoary  sinners,  but  even  for  young  and 
thoughtless  children  ! 

What  forms  the  favorite  topic  of  conversation  in  com 
pany,  in  the  cars,  on  the  boats,  in  the  tavern,  in  the  streets, 
in  the  market-place,  in  the  ball-room,  in  the  theatre  ?  Is 
it  not  the  shameful  vice  of  impurity  ? 

What  constitutes  the  interest  of  the  great  majority  of  the 
novels,  magazines,  weeklies,  that  fill  our  libraries,  that  are 
to  be  found  in  the  hands  of  every  one  from  the  young 
school  miss  to  the  venerable  old  maid  ?  Is  it  not  sensual 
love  ?  Is  it  not  impurity  ? 

Which  dances  are  the  most  popular?  Are  not  the 
obscene,  impure  round  dances  ?  How  many  a  young  girl 
will  tell  you  that  she  will  not  give  up  these  forbidden 
dances,  even  if  she  had  to  burn  in  hell  for  it ! 

Which  are  the  most  popular  plays  in  the  theatre  ?  What 
plays  are  those  that  always  draw  crowded  houses,  while  the 
churches  are  often  empty?  Are  they  not  the  most  im 
modest  plays  that  hell  itself  could  invent— plays  wherein 
lost  creatures  sell  their  modesty  to  make  a  paltry  living  ? 

What  class  of  pictures  is  to  be  found  in  those  weekly 
papers?  What  kind  of  photographs  and  statues  in  the 
windows  of  so  many  stores  ?  Are  they  not  usually  the  most 
indecent  ? 

Another  reason  why  the  devil  delights  so  much  in  seeing 
men  commit  the  sin  of  impurity  is  that  it  is  the  fruitful 
source  of  so  many  other  sins.  The  impure  man  is,  to  a 
certain  degree,  guilty  of  idolatry — of  giving  to  some  crea 
ture  the  love  and  honor  which  are  due  to  God  alone. 

'is  not  that  impure  man  guilty  of  idolatry  who  loves  the 
frail,  trring  creature  of  his  passion  to  such  a  degree  that 
for  her  sake  he  willingly  sacrifices  his  health,  his  honor, 
his  hope  of  heaven,  and  God  Himself  ?  Does  he  not  love 
that  creature  more  than  God  ?  And  is  not  that  idolatry? 

The  impure  man  is  guilty  of  perjury.     Impurity  leads  to 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY.         Ul 

perjury.  Is  not  the  young  woman  who  protests  solemnly 
to  her  parents  that  she  keeps  no  dangerous  company  ;  is  not 
that  vain  woman  who  protests  again  and  again  to  her  hus 
band  that  she  receives  no  dangerous  visits,  guilty  of  perjury 
when  they  call  God  to  bear  witness  to  their  innocence, 
though  they  know  in  their  inmost  hearts  that  they  are  not 
innocent  ?  How  many  false  oaths  has  not  that  young  man 
taken  ;  how  often  has  he  solemnly  sworn  to  the  unhappy 
victim  of  his  passion  that  he  would  never  abandon  her ;  and 
how  quickly  has  that  solemn  promise  been  broken  as  soon 
as  his  brutal  passions  were  gratified ! 

Impurity  leads  to  sacrilege.  Who  are  those  that  make 
bad  confessions  ?  Who  are  those  that  conceal  their  sins  in 
confession,  and  make  so  many  sacrilegious  communions? 
They  are,  in  every  case  almost,  those  who  haye  been  guilty 
of  the  crime  of  impurity.  They  are  ashamed  to  confess 
their  secret  crimes.  They  will  not  reveal  to  their  confessor 
the  dangerous  company  they  keep,  the  sinful  liberties  they 
permit,  the  shameful  thoughts  and  desires  that  they  nourish 
in  their  hearts.  They  never  mention  to  the  confessor  the 
wicked  books  that  they  read,  the  immodest  conversation 
in  which  they  indulge.  And  even  if  they  do  mention  any 
sin  of  this  kind,  they  never  tell  the  whole  truth  ;  they  cover 
and  lessen  the  sin  ;  so  that  their  confession  is  worthless,  and 
they  leave  the  confessional  with  the  curse  of  God  and  the 
sin  of  sacrilege  on  their  soul.  Oh  !  how  many  of  these  souls 
are  lost  for  ever.  How  many  are  now  burning  in  hell  who 
were  led  astray  by  the  demon  of  impurity,  and  who  after 
wards  had  not  the  courage  to  open  their  hearts  sincerely,  to 
tell  everything  honestly  to  their  confessor  ! 

Impurity  leads  to  theft.  A  young  man  filches  from  his 
employer ;  he  keeps  back  part  of  his  wages,  that  he  may 
have  the  means  to  spend  the  night  in  those  haunts  of  sin 
and  shame  which  are  the  very  hot- beds  of  hell.  The  young 
woman  steals  from  her  parents  in  order  to  buy  some  finery 


92        THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

which  she  thinks  will  make  her  more  captivating  in  the  eye& 
of  others.  A  husband  and  a  father  squanders  his  means 
and  ruins  his  family  in  order  to  gratify  the  vanity  of  some 
infamous  woman  who  has  gained  those  affections  which 
alone  belong  to  his  lawful  wife.  To  gratify  his  passion  he 
is  even  cruel  to  his  family. 

A  certain  man  kept  a  mistress  in  the  house.  His  wife 
knew  it,  but  bore  the  insult  patiently,  in  order  to  prevent 
greater  evils.  One  day,  the  servant  came  to  this  good  lady 
with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "What  is  the  matter?  Why  do 
yon  weep?"  asked  the  good  woman.  "Ah!"  answered 
the  servant,  "your  husband  has  sent  me  to  take  the  keys  of 
the  house  from  you.  He  says  that  henceforth  this  yonn# 
woman  in  the  house  is  to  be  my  mistress."  The  lady  grew 
pale,  her  heart  pierced  by  this  last  crowning  insult,  went  to 
the  "mistress,"  and  ordered  her  to  quit  the  house  in 
stantly.  The  husband  heard  of  the  difficulty.  He  told 
his  wife  if  she  did  not  beg  pardon  on  her  knees  of  the  mis 
tress,  he  would  send  her  and  her  child  a  thousand  miles 
away,  where  she  would  never  see  him  again.  And  the  poor 
mother  had  to  obey. 

Impurity  leads  to  cruelty  and  hardness  of  heart.  There 
lived  some  years  ago  in  the  city  of  Vienna  a  young  widow. 
She  had  an  only  child — a  little  girl  of  about  six  years  of  age, 
named  Lena.  Soon  after  the  death  of  her  husband,  this 
young  widow  began  to  receive  the  visits  of  a  young  man  of 
the  neighborhood.  By  and  by  the  visits  became  more  fre 
quent,  their  friendship  ripened  into  intimacy,  and  wicked 
tongues  were  not  wanting  to  whisper  suspicions  that  this 
innocent  friendship  would  end  in  shame.  The  young 
widow  felt  the  shame  of  her  unhappy  position  very  keenly  ; 
but  she  was  blinded  by  her  passions,  and  would  not  give  up 
the  young  man's  company.  She  urged  him  frequently  to 
save  her  from  shame  by  an  honorable  marriage ;  fr  't  he 
gteadily  refused.  "I  cannot  marry  a  woman  with  »  f*m- 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS— IMPURITY.        93 

;ly,"  he  said  ;  "  it  would  only  bring  trouble."  At  last  the 
woman,  who  had  now  given  herself  up  entirely  to  the  devil, 
I'ormed  the  horrible  resolution  to  do  away  with  her  child, 
and  thus  set  aside  every  obstacle  to  the  wished-for  union. 
In  the  house  in  which  she  lived  there  was  a  deep,  dark  cel 
lar.  One  day  the  unhappy  woman  took  her  little  daughter 
by  the  hand,  led  her  down  into  this  damp,  gloomy  dun 
geon,  and  said,  in  a  harsh  tone  :  "Here,  Lena,  remain  here 
until  I  come  back  for  you."  The  poor  innocent  child  be 
gan  to  cry,  but  the  unnatural  mother  hurried  away,  and 
closed  the  heavy  door  behind  her.  Two  days  passed.  The 
mother  hoped  now  that  her  little  child  was  dead.  In  the 
darkness  of  the  night  she  stole  down  to  the  cellar,  slowly 
opened  the  door,  and  called  out :  "  Lena,  are  you  there  ?  " 
The  sad,  plaintive  voice  of  the  little  child  was  heard: 
"  Ah  !  mamma,  mamma,  give  me  a  piece  of  bread."  But 
the  mother  turned  away  and  closed  the  heavy  door  once 
more.  Another  day  passed  by.  The  mother  spent  it  in 
the  company  of  her  wicked  companion,  gratifying  her  sin 
ful  passions ;  and  the  poor  helpless  child  remained  pin 
ing  away  with  hunger  in  her  gloomy  prison.  Once  more 
the  wretched  woman  went  down  to  the  cellar.  This  time 
she  expected  for  certain  that  the  child  would  be  dead.  She 
opened  the  door  and  called  again,  "  Lena,  are  you  there  ?  " 
Again  the  sad,  moaning  voice  of  her  child  was  heard,  crying 
in  feeble  tones  :  "  0  mamma,  mamma  !  a  piece  of  bread." 
The  unnatural  mother  turned  away ;  her  heart  trembled  not 
with  compassion — the  impure  heart  has  no  compassion — but 
vith  fear  lest  she  should  be  found  out.  She  trembled  with 
rage  that  her  child  was  not  yet  dead.  She  now  waited  seve 
ral  days,  and  when  she  .went  to  the  cellar  once  more,  the 
child  was  dead  !  She  took  the  poor  dead  child  to  her  room 
and  dressed  it  for  burial.  Early  the  next  morning  the 
neighbors  were  aroused  by  loud  wailing  and  lamenting  in 
the  house  of  the  young  widow.  They  hastened  t*  b#i  room  ; 


94        THE  PRO  DIVA  /As  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

they  found  her  crying  and  shrieking  and  acting  as  if  sht, 
were  beside  herself  with  grief.  There  lay  the  dead  child, 
pale  and  cold.  It  was  dressed  in  white  ;  a  wreath  of  flowers 
was  placed  upon  its  breast.  No  one  suspected  anything  of 
the  foul,  unnatural  murder.  Next  day  the  child  was  buried. 
A.11  the  little  playmates  of  Lena  formed  a  procession  and  ac 
companied  the  body  to  the  grave.  The  body  of  the  dead 
child  was  now  lowered  into  the  grave  ;  the  first  handful  of 
earth  was  thrown  upon  the  coffin;  the  priest  then  knelt 
down  with  all  those  present,  and  recited  the  customary  pray 
ers.  Every  heart  was  touched — every  eye  filled  with  tears. 
There  was  one  heart,  however,  that  remained  cold  and  un 
moved  ;  it  was  the  heart  of  the  mother.  She  was  now  free. 
She  could  now  gratify  her  sinful  passions  without  restraint; 
there  was  no  longer  any  fear  of  detection.  The  secret  deed 
was  locked  up  securely  in  her  heart.  But  oh  !  terrible 
justice  of  God  !  when  the  priest  recited  the  "  Our  Father," 
and  came  to  the  words,  "  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread," 
the  sad,  plaintive  cry  of  her  dying  child  rang  in  the  ears 
of  the  mother ;  a  wild  feeling  of  terror  and  remorse  seized 
her,  and  she  fell  senseless  to  the  ground.  She  came  to  her 
self  again,  but  she  had  lost  her  reason  and  become  a  raving 
maniac.  And  now,  with  a  wild,  unearthly  laugh,  she  re 
lated  to  the  horror-stricken  bystanders  the  full  particulars 
of  the  murder  of  her  child. 

Impurity  leads  to  jealousy,  murder,  and  suicide.  George 
Bauman,  one  of  the  principals  of  the  Public  Schools  of  Wil- 
liamsburg,  N.  Y.,  and  Annie  McNamara,  both  Catholics, 
met  frequently  for  nine  months  in  a  house  of  assignation 
in  Elizabeth  Street,  in  New  York.  Bauman  at  last  shot 
her,  and  then  shot  himself,  in  chat  infamous  house.  Their 
bodies  were  taken  to  the  Morgue  near  Bellevue  Hospital, 
where  they  were  laid  out  in  coffins  side  by  side.  The  face 
of  the  unhappy  murderer  looked  as  if  he  had  died  in  the 
most  terrible  agony. 


THIS  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY.        95 

About  four  years  ago,  Catherine  Lenan,  a  virtuous  and 
handsome  young  girl,  left  her  home  in  the  County  Cork 
and  came  to  this  country,  where  she  soon  obtained  employ 
ment  as  a  domestic  servant ;  her  last  place  being  in  Long- 
wood,  near  Brookline,  Mass.  She  was  a  careful  and  in 
dustrious  girl,  and  those  who  employed  her  became  attached 
to  her.  There  were  few  or  none  of  those  near  her  whom 
she  had  known  in  Ireland  ;  she  had  only  one  relative  in  this 
country,  who  lived  at  a  distance  from  her.  Thrown  upon 
herself,  she  naturally  wanted  to  form  new  acquaintances 
and  make  new  friends  ;  and  we  soon  find  her,  in  company 
with  another  girl,  walking  from  her  employer's  house  on 
every  evening  she  could  spare,  and  visiting  a  saloon  or  drink- 
ing-house,  kept  by  Irish  people,  where  she  had  become  ac 
quainted  with  several  young  men.  In  taking  this  walk  on 
the  night  of  Tuesday,  Oct.  24,  poor  Kate  Lenan  was  way 
laid  on  the  road  by  some  miscreant  yet  unknown,  and  bru 
tally  outraged  and  murdered  ! 

The  third  reason  why  the  devil  takes  peculiar  delight  in 
the  vice  of  impurity  is  because  this  sin  involves  the  malice 
of  scandal.  Other  sins,  such  as  blasphemy,  perjury,  and 
murder,  excite  horror  in  those  who  witness  them ;  but  this 
sin  easily  excites  and  draws  others  to  commit  it,  or  at  least 
to  commit  it  with  less  horror.  Ignorance  of  evil  is  a  part  of 
innocence,  and  the  best  rampart  of  virtue.  Those  who  have 
never  seen  evil  done  think  not  of  seeing  it.  They  will  en 
tertain  a  horror  of  it  unless  they  see  it  committed  and  ex 
cused  by  others.  One  is  ashamed  to  practise  virtue  among 
the  wicked,  and  to  be  innocent  among  the  guilty.  How 
many  have  received  their  first  lessons  in  immorality  or 
crime  from  the  hostler,  or  the  cook,  or  the  nurse;  while  a 
single  night  with  a  strange  bedfellow  may  initiate  a  boy  in 
mysteries  to  which  he  had  else  remained  a  stranger.  This 
last  danger  is  greatly  increased  if  the  casual  room-mate  be 
by  a  few  years  hig  senior ;  for  the  power  of  mischief  poi- 


96        THE  PRODIGAL' s  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

sessed  by  the  older  boy  is  increased  in  proportion  to  his  size 
and  his  experience.  An  impure  boy  or  girl  is  sure  to  corrupt 
the  smaller  ones  whenever  a  safe  opportunity  presents  it 
self,  and  thus  children  of  six  and  twelve  fall  victims  to 
those  who  are  older  than  themselves. 

The  fourth  reason  why  the  devil  rejoices  so  much  in  see 
ing  one  commit  the  sin  of  impurity,  is  because  it  blinds  the 
sinner  to  such  an  extent  as  not  to  allow  him  to  see  the  in 
jury  which  he  offers  to  God,  nor  the  miserable  state  in  which 
he  lives  and  sleeps.  Like  "the  sow  wallowing  in  the  mire," 
the  impure  are  immersed  in  their  own  filth,  so  that  they  are 
not  sensible  of  the  malice  of  their  actions,  and  therefore  they 
neither  feel  nor  abhor  the  stench  of  their  impurities,  which 
excite  disgust  and  horror  in  all  others.  By  this  sin  they  lose 
the  light  of  God,  which  shines  in  the  hearts  of  all  his  chil 
dren,  so  that  they  may  not  stray  from  the  narrow  path  that 
leads  to  heaven.  But  suddenly  this  light  of  the  soul  is  extin 
guished  by  the  sin  of  impurity,  and  the  impure  are  left  in 
utter  darkness.  Their  sins  degrade  and  dim  their  under 
standing  more  than  does  any  other  vice.  They  have  eyes  and 
see  not,  they  have  ears  and  hear  not,  they  have  reason  and  un 
derstand  not.  If  the  unchaste  are  deprived  of  light,  and  no 
longer  see  the  evil  which  they  do,  how  can  they  detest  it  and 
amend  their  lives  ?  The  prophet  says  that,  being  blinded  by 
their  own  mire,  they  do  not  even  think  of  returning  to  God. 
Their  impurities  take  away  from  them  all  knowledge  of  God. 
"  They  will  not  set  their  thoughts  to  return  to  their  God. 
for  the  spirit  of  fornication  is  in  the  midst  of  them,  and 
they  have  not  known  the  Lord."*  Yes,  this  sin,  if  often 
repeated,  will  become  a  habit,  and  this  habit  will  become  so 
strengthened  and  deeply  rooted  in  the  soul  by  repeated  falls 
till  it  finally  attains  to  a  degree  of  malice  that  is  truly 
devilish. 

Whoever  has  arrived  at  this  degree  of  sin  is  possessed  by 

v.  4. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY.        97 

A  hardened,  unyielding  determination  to  commit  sin — a  de 
termination  which  neither  warnings  nor  threats,  neither 
punishments  nor  favors,  can  changa.  Shrouded  in  impene 
trable  darkness,  in  insolent  defiance  of  God  p.nd  man,  the 
rays  of  divine  light  cannot  penetrate  this  heart.  The  un 
happy  man  is  separated  from  God.  The  wounds  of  his 
conscience  have  become  encrusted  so  that  he  can  no  longer 
feel  any  remorse,  and  at  .last  he  reaches  such  a  depth  of 
wickedness  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  him  to  become 
either  better  or  worse. 

By  lust  the  devil  triumphs  over  the  entire  man — over  his 
body  and  over  his  soul — over  hia  memory,  by  filling  it  with 
unchaste  thoughts  and  making  him  take  pleasure  in  them  ; 
over  his  intellect,  by  making  him  desire  occasions  of  com 
mitting  sin;  over  his  will,  by  making  it  love  its  impurities 
as  his  last  end,  and  as  if  there  were  no  God.  Hell  governs 
him,  hell  dwells  in  him  ;  he  is  already,  one  may  say,  a  victim 
doomed  to  the  flames,  an  agent  and  slave  of  the  devil. 
What  Jesus  said  of  Judas  may  be  said  of  him:  "One  of 
yon  is  a  devil.  There  is  one  among  you,  and  it  were  bettei 
for  him  that  he  had  never  been  born." 

A  certain  person  was  so  much  addicted  to  the  rice  of  im 
purity  as  to  commit  the  most  atrocious  ciimes  no  longer 
through  weakness,  but  out  of  sheer  hatred  of  God.  Her 
accomplice  died  suddenly  in  the  very  act  ot  a  most  abomina 
ble  sin  of  impurity,  and  afterwards  appeared  to  her  enveloped 
in  fire  and  flames.  From  that  time  forward  she  felt  within 
her,  as  it  were,  a  burning  so  intei^e  that  she  imagined  her 
self  in  hell,  and  kept  uttering  the  most  horrible  cries  of  de 
spair.  This  happened  in  1858  m  a  city  of  Pennsylvania. 

There  stood  once  in  the  middle  of  Jerusalem  a  beautiful 
temple.  It  was  adorned  wich  silver,  and  gold,  and  precious 
stones.  It  was  the  work  o*  many  kings,  and  the  wonder  of 
ages.  In  an  unhappy  hoar  a  torch  was  cast  by  a  soldier's 
hand  into  this  beautiful  temple.  It  caught  fire,  the  flames 


98         THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

gained  apace,  and  soon  the  glorious  temple  was  a  heap  of 
smoldering  ruins.  Jews  and  Romans,  the  friends  and  the 
stranger,  made  every  effort  to  save  the  temple,  but  their 
efforts  were  of  no  avail. 

What  a  sad  image  this  temple  is  of  the  soul  that  has  been 
ruined  by  the  vice  of  impurity  !  A  single  spark  of  impure 
fire  is  cast  into  the  pure  soul  which  is  the  temple  of  the 
living  God.  The  spark  is  soon  fanned  into  a  flame — the 
hellish  flame  increases  and  gains  full  mastery  over  the  soul — 
the  friends  and  relations  of  the  deluded  creature  may  speak 
to  her — the  priest  of  God  may  warn  her — heaven  and  earth 
may  strive  to  save  her  ;  but  in  vain.  The  impure  fire, 
the  flame  of  impure  love,  burns  on — it  burns  to  the  very 
verge  of  the  grave,  to  the  very  brink  of  hell,  where  the  worm 
never  dieth  and  the  fire  never  quenches. 

This  vice  when  habitual  clings  so  firmly  to  nature  that 
the  desire  for  carnal  pleasures  becomes  insatiable,  and  will 
cease  only  when  the  unhappy  man  who  indulges  in  it  is  cast 
into  the  fire  of  hell.  "  0  hellish  fire  ! — lust,  whose  fuel  is 
gluttony,  whose  sparks  are  brief  conversations,  whose  end 
is  hell."  The  unchaste  become  like  the  vulture  that  waits 
to  be  killed  by  the  fowler,  rather  than  abandon  the  rotten 
ness  of  the  dead  bodies  on  which  it  feeds. 

Some  years  ago  a  gentleman  of  rank  and  education  forgot 
himself  so  far  as  to  keep  in  his  house  a  young  woman  of  loose 
character.  His  friends,  his  relatives,  and  even  the  priest  of 
God,  advised  and  begged  him  again  and  again  to  give  up 
that  wicked  girl.  But  it  was  all  in  vain.  His  only  answer 
was :  I  cannot,  I  cannot.  At  last  he  fell  sick,  and  his  illness 
became  so  dangerous  that  he  was  at  the  point  of  death. 
The  good  priest  now  came  to  see  him.  He  saluted  the  dy 
ing  man,  and  spoke  kindly  to  him,  in  order  to  win  his  confi 
dence.  "  My  dear  friend,"  said  the  priest,  "  your  illness  is 
dangerous,  it  is  true,  but  you  are  young  yet,  you  have  a 
strong  constitution,  and  we  hope  that  you  will  recover. 


THE  PRODIS  A  /As  (.  'OM/'.I  .Y/O,Y,S-— -  Fur  rum:         99 

But,  at  all  events,  it  would  do  you  no  harm  to  make  your 
peace  with  God  like  a  good  Christian."  "Ah!  father," 
Buid  the  dying  man,  "I  know  that  I  am  in  great  danger. 
It  is  true,  I  have  led  a  very  wicked  life,  but  I  now  wish  to 
amend.  I  wisli  to  die  a  good  death.  Tell  me,  then,  what  I 
must  do."  The  priest  was  overjoyed  to  see  him  in  such  a 
good  disposition.  "Well,"  said  the  priest,  "  since  you  de 
sire  to  die  a  good  death,  you  must  prepare  yourself  by  a 
good  confession."  "  Oh  !  most  willingly,"  was  the  reply. 
"Arc  there  any  debts  that  you  have  not  paid?"  asked  the 
priest  before  he  commenced  to  hear  his  confession.  "  I 
have  paid  them  all,"  answered  the  sick  man.  "Have  you 
never  defrauded  your  neighbor  or  injured  him  in  his  good 
name  or  property?  "  "  Yes,  but  I  have  made  restitution." 
"Have  you  no  ill-will  against  any  of  your  neighbors?" 
"  I  had,  but  I  have  forgiven  them  all."  "  Are  you  willing 
to  ask  pardon  of  all  those  whom  you  may  have  offended  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  humbly  ask  pardon."  "  Do  you  wish,  then,  to  re 
ceive  the  last  sacraments?"  "I  desire  it  with  all  my 
heart."  "  Well,  then,"  said  the  priest,  "  since  you  desire  to 
receive  the  last  sacraments,  you  know  you  must  put  away 
every  obstacle  to  the  grace  of  God — you  must  send  away  this 
wicked  girl  from  your  house  ;  she  is  a  constant  occasion  of 
sin  to  you  still.  You  must  send  her  away."  "0  father!" 
said  the  dying  man,  "  what  do  you  mean  ?  Send  away  that 
girl !  Oh  !  I  cannot  do  that. "  "  What  is  that  ?  "  said  the 
priest,  amazed.  t(  You  cannot.  Why  can  you  not  ?  Do 
you  not  know  that  you  must  do  so  if  you  wish  to  save 
your  soul?"  "Father,  I  cannot,  I  cannot."  "'But  you 
are  at  the  point  of  death.  In  a  few  moments  more  you  will 
be  forced  to  leave  her.  Why  not  send  her  away  now  of 
your  own  free  will  ?  "  "I  cannot  do  it,  indeed  1  cannot." 
"  Oh  !"  cried  the  priest,  drawing  forth  his  crucifix,  "look  at 
this  crucifix.  Our  Redeemer,  your  Lord,  suffered  and  died 
for  you.  He  shed  His  heart's  blood  for  you.  Will  you  not 


100       THE  PRODIGA L'S  COMPA  NIONS —  Fxp  URITY. 

make  this  slight  sacrifice  to  please  Him  ?  Oil !  look  upon  His 
wounds  ;  see  His  blessed  head  crowned  with  thorns — can 
you  refuse  him  ?  For  the  love  of  Jc.sus,  have  pity  on 
your  poor  soul.  Will  you  not  send  away  that  wicked 
woman,  at  least  for  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ?"  "Father,  I 
have  told  you  already  that  I  cannot  do  it."  "  But  if  you 
do  not  send  her  away,  I  cannot  give  you  the  sacraments." 
"  No  matter,  I  cannot  do  it."  "  You  will  be  excluded  from 
the  kingdom  of  heaven."  "  Well,  I  cannot  help  it."  "You 
will  die  excommunicated;  you  cannot  be  buried  in  conse 
crated  ground,  you  will  be  thrown  aside  like  a  dog,  or  an 
abortion!"  "I  cannot  help  it."  "  But  you  will  be  con 
demned  to  the  everlasting  flames  of  hell."  "Well,  I  cannot 
help  it."  "  In  the  name  of  God,  be  reasonable.  Is  it  not 
better  to  send  away  this  wicked  woman  than  to  lose  soul 
and  body,  heaven,  and  God  Himself  ?  "  "I  cannot  send  her 
away."  The  dying  man  then  beckoned  to  the  wretched 
woman,  who  was  standing  at  some  distance  from  him,  and 
wept.  As  soon  as  she  drew  near,  he  threw  his  arms  around 
her  neck,  and,  in  a  voice  which  trembled  with  weakness  and 
passion,  he  cried  :  "  Ah  !  you  have  been  my  joy  during  life, 
you  shall  be  my  joy  in  death  and  throughout  all  eternity." 
These  were  his  last  words.  In  that  same  instant  he 
breathed  forth  his  soul,  and  died  in  the  very  act  of  sin. 

Oh  !  how  difficult  it  is  for  a  person  who  has  contracted 
the  habit  of  this  vice  to  amend  his  life  and  return  sincerely 
to  God  !  How  difficult  it  is  for  him  not  to  put  an  end  to 
this  habit  in  hell,  like  the  unfortunate  man  of  whom  I  have 
just  spoken. 

During  the  late  war,  a  young  man,  a  soldier  in  the  hos 
pital  at  New  Berne,  was  reduced  to  a  skeleton  from  the  ex 
cess  of  impurity.  He  was  lying  in  his  agony  for  three  days, 
and  yet  all  the  time  he  was  seen  committing  self -abuse. 
Two  other  young  soldiers  in  New  Berne  killed  themselves 
by  the  excess  of  this  accursed  vice.  The  impure  labor  un~ 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY.      101 

der  another  illusion.  They  say  that  Ood  has  compassion  on 
this  sin.  Has  he?  God  has  chastised  novice  so  severely 
as  the  vice  of  impurity.  Bead  the  Scriptures,  and  you 
will  find  that  in  punishment  of  this  sin  God  sent  fire  from 
heaven,  and  in  an  instant  burnt  five  cities,  with  all  their  in 
habitants,,  nay,  even  the  very  stones  of  these  cities.  "  And 
the  Lord  rained  upon  Sodom  and  Gomorrha  brimstone  and 
fire  from  the  Lord  out  of  heaven.  And  he  destroyed  these 
cities,  and  all  things  that  spring  from  the  earth."*  In 
punishment  of  the  sin  of  impurity,  God  sent  on  the  earth 
the  universal  deluge,  in  which  the  whole  human  race  per 
ished  with  the  exception  of  eight  persons.  We  also  read  in 
the  Scriptures  that  the  Hebrews,  having  entered  Settim,  a 
city  of  the  Moabites,  fell  into  sin  with  the  women  of  the 
place.  In  punishment  for  their  sins,  God  ordered  Moses  to 
put  twenty-four  thousand  of  the  Hebrews  to  the  sword,  f 

At  the  present  day,  we  see  more  severe  temporal  punish 
ments  inflicted  on  this  than  on  any  other  sin.  Go  into  the 
hospitals,  and  listen  to  the  shrieks  of  so  many  young  per 
sons  of  both  sexes.  Ask  them  why  they  are  obliged  to 
submit  to  the  severest  treatment  and  to  the  most  painful 
operations,  and  they  will  tell  you  that  it  is  on  account  of 
the  sins  of  impurity.  At  the  first  glance,  the  impure  man 
presents  an  aspect  of  languor,  weakness,  and  thinness. 
His  countenance  is  pale,  sunken,  flabby,  .often  leaden,  or 
more  or  less  livid,  with  a  dark  circle  around  the  sunken 
eyes,  which  are  dull,  and  lowered  or  averted.  His  physi 
ognomy  is  sad  and  spiritless  ;  his  voice  feeble  and  hoarse. 
There  are  dry  cough,  oppression,  panting  and  fatigue  on 
the  least  exertion  ;  palpitations,  dimness  of  sight,  dizziness, 
trembling,  painful  cramps,  convulsive  movements  like  epi 
lepsy  ;  pains  in  the  limbs  or  at  the  back  of  the  head,  in  the 
spine,  breast,  or  stomach  ;  great  weakness  in  the  back  ; 
sometimes  lethargy ;  at  other  times  slow,  consumptive 
*Gen,  xix.  34  t  Num.  xxv.  1,  9. 


102        THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

fever,  digestive  derangements,  nausea,  vomiting,  loss  of 
appetite,  or  progressive  emaciation.  Sometimes  the  body 
is  bent,  and  often  there  are  all  the  appearances  of  pulmo 
nary  consumption,  or  the  characteristics  of  decrepitude 
joined  to  the  habits  and  pretensions  of  youth.  What  a 
wretched  and  degraded  being  such  a  man  becomes  !  lie 
bends  under  the  weight  of  his  crime  and  infamy,  dragging 
in  darkness  a  remnant  of  material  and  animal  life.  Un 
happy  man  !  He  has  sinned  against  God,  agai'nst  nature, 
against  himself.  He  has  violated  the  laws  of  the  Creator. 
He  has  disfigured  the  image  of  God  in  his  own  person,  and 
has  changed  it  into  that  of  the  beast.  He  has  sunk  lower 
than  the  brute,  and,  like  the  brute,  looks  only  upon  the 
ground.  His  dull  and  stupid  glance  can  no  longer  raise 
itself  toward  heaven.  He  no  longer  dares  to  lift  his  brow, 
already  stamped  with  the  seal  of  reprobation.  He  descends 
little  by  little  into  death,  and  a  last  convulsive  crisis  comes 
at  length,  violently  to  close  this  strange  and  horrible 
drama.  (Dr.  Debreyne.) 

But  while  the  physical  symptoms  are  so  grave,  the  moral 
degradation  goes  even  further.  The  impure  man,  the 
desecrator  of  his  own  body,  gradually  loses  his  moral  facul 
ties;  he  becomes  dull,  silly,  listless,  embarrassed,  sad,  effemi 
nate,  in  his  exterior;  he  becomes  indolent,  averse  to  and 
incapable  of  all  intellectual  exertion ;  he  is  destitute  of  all 
presence  of  mind  ;  he  is  discountenanced,  troubled,  inquiet, 
whenever  he  finds  himself  in  company  ;  he  is  taken  by  sur 
prise  and  even  alarmed  if  required  simply  to  reply  to  a 
child's  question  ;  his  feeble  soul  succumbs  to  the  lightest 
task  ;  his  memory  daily  losing  more  and  more,  he  is  unable 
to  comprehend  the  most  common  things,  or  to  connect 
the  simplest  ideas.  The  greatest  means  and  the  brightest 
talents  are  soon  exhausted  ;  knowledge  previously  acquired  is 
forgotten;  the  most  exquisite  intelligence  becomes  naught 
and  no  longer  bears  fruit ;  all  the  vivacity,  all  the  pride, 


THE  PR  ODIG  A  i/s  COMPA  NIONS — IMP  URITY.       103 

all  the  qualities  of  the  spirit  disappear;  the  power  of  the 
imagination  is  at  an  end  for  them ;  pleasure  no  longej 
fawns  upon  them  ;  but,  in  revenge,  all  that  is  trouble  and 
misfortune  in  the  world  seems  the  portion  of  the  impure 
fellow.  Inquietude,  dismay,  fear,  which  are  his  only  affe<y 
tions,  banish  every  agreeable  sensation  from  his  mind 
The  last  crisis  of  melancholy  and  the  most  frightful  sugges 
tions  of  despair  commonly  end  in  hastening  the  death  ol 
the  unfortunate  man,  or  else  he  falls  into  complete  apathy, 
and  sinks  below  those  brutes  which  have  the  least  instinct, 
retaining  only  the  figure  of  his  race.  It  even  frequently 
happens  that  the  most  complete,  folly  and  frenzy  are  mani 
fest  from  the  first.  (Dr.  Gottlieb  Wogel.) 

One  day  a  young  man  spoke  to  me  about  one  of  his  com 
panions  who  had  lost  his  mind.  I  told  him  that  many  young 
men  nowadays  lose  their  minds  on  account  of  self-abuse. 
He  then  avowed  that  he,  too,  had  lost  his  mind  for  some 
time,  and  was  taken  to  the  mad-house  ;  God  permitted  him 
to  recover  his  mind  that  he  might  repent.  But  he  soon 
after  relapsed  and  was  again  taken  to  the  mad-house.  The 
overseer  told  one  of  my  friends  that  two-thirds  of  the  in 
mates  lost  their  minds  through  the  shameful  sin  of  self- 
abuse.  Such,  then,  is  the  physical  degradation  of  the  im 
pure  man — of  the  desecmtor  of  his  own  body.  If  these  evils 
are  not  always  visible,  yet  they  are  all  present,  and  will  show 
themselves  in  proportion  as  the  vice  of  impurity  is  prac 
tised. 

Not  all  offenders,  it  is  true,  are  visited  so  severely  as  above 
described.  Perhaps  even  a  small  proportion  of  the  whole 
number  die  in  this  manner  ;  yet  in  this  comparatively  small 
minority  those  who  persist  in  the  practice  will,  sooner  or 
later,  surely  be  included.  Let  no  one  delude  himself  with 
the  false  assumption  that  he  can  be  exempt  from  this  uni 
versal  law.  There  can  be  no  possible  exemption.  Those 
who  persist  will  surely  die  the  death  most  horribln  of  all 


104       THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

deaths  ;  while  the  very  individuals  who  seem  to  escape  are 
those  who  most  surely  carry  their  punishment  for  the  re 
mainder  of  their  lives,  never  live  to  attain  old  age,  and  fre. 
quently  fall  victims  to  some  chronic  disease,  the  germs  of 
which  they  owe  to  this  detestable  vice.  <-  Thou  hast  cast 
me  off  behind  thy  back,"  says  the  Lord  ;  "  bear  thou  also 
thy  wickedness  and  thy  fornications."  * 

Doctor  Tissot  relates  that  a  young  man  from  Montpelier, 
a  student  of  medicine,  died  from  excess  of  the  crime  of  im 
purity.  The  idea  of  his  crime  so  agitated  his  mind  that  he 
died  in  a  kind  of  despair,  believing  that  he  saw  hell  open 
at  his  side  to  receive  him. 

L.  D.,  a  watchmaker,  had  been  virtuous  and  healthy  until 
the  age  of  seventeen.  At  that  time  he  delivered  himself  to 
the  vice  of  impurity,  which  he  committed  three  times  a  day. 
In  less  than  one  year  he  began  to  experience  great  weakness 
after  each  criminal  act.  This  warning  was  not  sufficient 
to  drive  him  from  the  danger.  His  soul,  already  wholly 
delivered  to  sin,  was  no  longer  capable  of  other  ideas,  and 
the  repetition  of  the  crime  became  every  day  more  frequent, 
until  he  found  himself  in  a  condition  which  led  him  to  be 
apprehensive  of  death.  Wise  too  late,  the  evil  had  made 
such  progress  that  he  could  not  be  cured.  He  soon  suffered 
from  habitual  spasms,  which  often  seized  him  without  ap 
parent  cause,  and  in  so  violent  a  manner  that,  during  the 
paroxysm,  which  sometimes  lasted  fifteen  hours,  and  never 
less  than  eight,  he  experienced  in  the  back  of  the  neck  such 
violent  pains  that  he  commonly  raised,  not  cries  merely, 
but  howls,  and  it  was  impossible  for  him,  during  all  this 
time,  to  swallow  either  liquids  or  solids.  His  voice  became 
hoarse  ;  he  entirely  lost  his  strength.  Obliged  to  abandon 
his  profession,  overwhelmed  with  misery,  he  languished  al 
most  without  relief  for  several  months.  A  trace  of  memory, 
which  had  nearly  vanished,  only  served  to  remind  him  in- 

*  Ezech.  xxiii.  35. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY.       105 

cessantly  of  the  causes  of  his  misfortune  and  to  increase  his 
remorse.  He  was  less  a  living  being  than  a  corpse,  groan 
ing  upon  the  straw,  emaciated,  pale,  filthy,  exhaling  an 
infectious  odor,  almost  incapable  of  any  movement.  Of 
ten  a  pale  and  watery  blood  issued  from  the  nose,  and  a 
constant  slime  flowed  from  the  mouth.  Like  a  pig,  he 
wallowed  in  his  own  abominable  filth.  Bleared,  troubled, 
and  dull,  he  had  no  longer  the  faculty  of  motion.  His 
pulse  was  extremely  low  and  rapid  ;  his  breathing  very  diffi 
cult;  his  emaciation  excessive,  except  at  the  feet,  which 
commenced  to  become  dropsical.  The  disorder  of  his  mind 
was  just  as  frightful.  Without  memory  ;  incapable  of  con 
necting  two  phrases  ;  without  reflection  ;  without  inquietude 
as  to  his  fate  ;  with  no  other  sentiment  than  that  of  pain ; 
a  being  far  below  the  brute ;  a  spectacle  of  which  it  is  im 
possible  to  conceive  the  horror,  one  would  with  difficulty 
recognize  that  he  had  formerly  belonged  to  the  human 
species.  He  died  at  the  end  of  some  weeks  (June  17,  1857), 
dropsical  from  head  to  foot. 

Two  young  Spaniards,  Ferdinand  and  Alonso,  lived  at 
'Madrid.  They  were  friends,  of  respectable  family,  and  led 
very  immoral  lives.  One  night  Ferdinand  had  a  dream  or 
vision.  On  a  sudden  the  door  of  his  chamber  flew  open. 
Two  enormous  giants,  black  and  hideous,  rushed  towards 
him,  seized  and  carried  him  with  incredible  swiftness  to  the 
shore  of  the  sea.  The  night  was  a  fearful  one,  dark  and 
stormy.  The  wind  howled  wildly  around  him  ;  the  foaming 
waves  were  lashed  into  fury  and  rose  to  an  immense  height. 
His  ears  were  stunned  by  the  deafening  peals  of  thunder, 
and  his  eyes  blinded  by  the  vivid  flashes  of  lightning,  which 
one  moment  lit  up  everything  with  fearful  brilliancy,  and 
then  again  left  everything  in  utter  darkness.  By  the  gleam 
of  the  lightning,  he  noticed  a  vast  multitude  of  persons 
standing  on  the  shore.  A  number  of  phantom  ships  were 
sailing  swiftly  towards  him,  and  to  his  horror  he  saw  that 


106       THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

they  were  swarming  with  ghostly  spectres,  who  hurried  to 
and  fro  with  wild,  unearthly  yells.  The  ships  reached  the 
shore.  The  demons  seized  and  bound  with  chains  everyone 
they  could  find,  and  carried  them  quickly  to  their  vessels. 
Among  the  prisoners,  Ferdinand  noticed  his  friend  Alonso. 
In  a  moment,  the  grim  spectres  surrounded  himself,  seized 
him,  and  were  carrying  him  away,  when,  in  an  agony  of  ter 
ror,  he  called  aloud  upon  the  sweet  names  of  Jesus  and  Mary, 
and  suddenly  the  frightful  vision  vanished.  Ferdinand  now 
found  himself  transported  before  the  judgment-seat  of  God. 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Eternal  Judge,  was  seated  on  His  throne, 
surrounded  by  myriads  of  angels.  On  His  right  was  His 
Blessed  Mother.  Ferdinand  saw  that  he  was  to  be  con 
demned  for  his  wicked  life.  He  called  upon  the  Blessed 
Virgin,  implored  her  assistance,  promised  to  quit  the  world, 
and  lead  a  life  of  religious  penance.  His  prayer  was  heard. 
He  awoke,  and  his  cheeks  were  wet  with  tears.  He  remem 
bered  the  warning,  and  promised  God  on  oath  to  enter  a  re 
ligious  order. 

Next  morning  Alonso  came,  and,  seeing  Ferdinand  look 
sad  and  troubled,  began  to  banter  him,  and  tried  to  amuse 
him  by  telling  him  of  the  gay  parties  to  which  they  were  to 
go.  Ferdinand  told  him  of  his  dream,  and  the  vow  he  had 
made  to  change  his  life  and  enter  a  convent.  Alonso 
laughed,  and  said,  mockingly:  "What!  go  into  a  con 
vent  ?  Will  you  not  take  me  with  you  ?  Now,  seriously, 
Ferdinand,  you  are  not  such  an  old  woman  as  to  believe  in 
such  nonsense  ?  Do  you  not  think  that  I  wish  to  save  my 
soul  too  ?  Indeed  I  do  ;  but  you  see  I  am  in  no  hurry. 
Plenty  of  time  when  I  get  old.  Don't  you  know  the  old  say 
ing  :  '  All's  well  that  ends  well '  ?"  Just  at  this  moment 
a  servant  came  up-stairs  and  told  Alonso  that  there  were 
two  gentlemen  at  the  door  who  wished  to  see  him  on  very 
urgent  business.  Alonso  told  Ferdinand  to  banish  his  mel 
ancholy  fancies  and  to  prepare  for  the  pleasant  party  they 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY.       107 

weie  to  attend  that  evening.  He  then  hurried  down- stairs. 
At  the  door,  he  met  two  young  men  with  whom  he  had  had 
a  quarrel  the  day  before  on  account  of  some  love-affair.  As 
soon  as  they  saw  him,  they  rushed  upon  him,  stabbed  him 
to  the  heart,  and  fled,  leaving  him  weltering  in  his  gore. 
Ferdinand,  hearing  the  scuffle  and  the  wild,  agonizing 
shriek,  rushed  down-stairs.  To  his  horror,  he  found  that 
Alonso  was  dead.  At  the  sight  of  this  bloody  corpse,  he 
was  vividly  reminded  of  his  dream.  He  hastened  to  the 
nearest  church,  cast  himself  at  the  feet  of  a  priest,  related  the 
terrible  tragedy,  his  dream,  his  vow,  made  a  good  confession, 
and  renewed  his  vow.  He  was  now  restored  to  the  grace  of 
God,  full  of  fervor  and  happiness.  He  sold  his  property  in  or 
der  to  give  the  price  to  the  poor.  But  alas  !  after  some  time 
his  impure  passions  began  to  revive,  and  he  did  not  resist 
them.  Instead  of  giving  his  wealth  to  the  poor,  he  spent 
it  in  gambling,  drinking,  feasting,  and  debauchery.  He 
cast  himself  headlong  into  the  whirlpool  of  impurity.  His 
excesses  brought  on  a  sickness.  God,  in  mercy,  now  gave 
him  another  warning :  he  saw  the  fathomless  abyss  of  hell 
open  beneath  him.  He  saw  in  its  fiery  dungeons  thousands 
of  souls  horribly  tormented  by  the  devils.  He  saw  before 
him  once  more  his  Eternal  Judge.  In  a  moment,  a  swarm 
of  demons  rose  out  of  hell  to  seize  his  soul  and  drag  him 
into  the  Qery  gulf. 

Again  in  his  agony  the  unfortunate  man  called  upon 
Mary,  and  again  he  obtained  a  respite ;  but  something  in 
his  heart  told  him  it  was  to  be  the  last  time.  He  was  now 
changed.  He  did  penance,  and  was  restored  to  health. 
But  with  returning  health  the  accursed  habit  of  sin  returned 
also.  His  passions  grew  strong  again  ;  he  sought  the  occa 
sions  of  sin;  he  fell,  and  became  worse  than  ever.  Reduced 
to  poverty,  he  sailed  to  South  America.  On  arriving  at 
Lima  he  spent  whatever  he  earned  in  gratifying  his  pas 
sions,  the  consequence  of  which  was  that  he  fell  sick  ono« 


108       THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY. 

more,  and  went  to  the  city  hospital.  Again  he  began  to 
enter  into  himself.  He  sent  for  a  holy  missionary,  who 
was  celebrated  for  his  zeal,  and  made  his  confession  with  a 
flood  of  tears.  He  told  the  missionary  of  his  vow.  The 
good  priest  promised  to  assist  him  to  enter  the  convent  ae 
soon  as  he  should  recover,  and  promised  to  come  and  sec 
him  again.  The  young  man  soon  recovered;  but  no  sooner 
'was  he  well  than  all  his  good  resolutions  were  forgotten. 
In  order  to  avoid  the  missionary,  he  left  the  hospital  as  soon 
as  possible,  and  travelled  through  the  country,  everywhere 
giving  himself  up  to  the  most  shameful  disorders.  Some 
years  afterwards  this  holy  missionary  was  led  by  his  zeal 
into  one  of  the  wildest  and  least  frequented  parts  of  Peru. 
There,  in  a  little  town  surrounded  by  lofty  mountains  and 
pathless  forests,  he  spent  some  time  in  instnicting  the  in 
habitants  and  in  visiting  the  hospital.  One  day,  as  he  was 
going  about  from  bed  to  bed,  instructing  and  comforting 
the  sick,  he  heard  a  low  moaning  sound  p  ;oceeding  from  a 
corner  of  the  room.  He  went  thither,  ai,d  his  eyes  fell  on 
an  object  that  filled  him  with  horror.  Tnere,  upon  a  heap 
of  rotten  straw,  lay  a  man,  or  rather  a  Ih  ing,  rotting  skele 
ton,  for  there  was  nothing  left  of  him  lut  skin  and  bone. 
His  hollow  cheeks,  his  sunken,  lustrelesh  eyes,  the  intoler 
able  stench  that  proceeded  from  his  body,  which  was  barely 
covered  with  rags,  all  told  too  plainly  that  he  was  an  un 
happy  victim  of  that  degrading  passion  which  should  not 
be  even  named  amongst  Christians,  The  priest  bent  over 
the  dying  man.  The  unhappy  victim  of  his  own  guilty 
passions  slowly  opened  his  languishing  eyes,  and  saw  the 
priest.  "  Ah,  just  God  !"  he  cried,  in  a  hollow  voice,  "are 
you  here  ?  You  who  alone  know  all  the  crimes  of  my  whole 
life,  must  you  now  witness  my  death  ?  "  At  these  words  he 
began  to  howl  and  moan  like  a  wild  beast.  The  priest  tried 
to  encourage  him,  but  in  vain.  "  No,  no  ! "  he  cried, 
"there  is  no  hope  for  me.  It  is  too  late,  too  late  I"  And 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS — IMPURITY        109 

with   a  look  of  wild  despair  lie  died,  and  his  guilty  soul 

went  forth — no  longer  in  a  vision,  but  in  dread  reality to 

appear  before  the  judgment-seal  of  God.  Ah  !  how  true 
are  the  words  of  the  Holy  Ghost :  "The  bones  of  the  im 
pure  shall  be  filled  with  the  vices  of  his  youth,  and  his 
m purity  shall  descend  with  him  to  the  grave." 

What  has  already  been  said  regards  the  temporal  pun 
ishment  inflicted  in  this  life  on  sins  against  chastity.  But 
what  shall  the  punishment  be  in  the  next  ?  You  say  that 
God  has  pity  on  this  sin.  But  St.  Remigius  says  that  few 
Christian  adults  are  saved,  and  that  the  rest  are  damned  for 
sins  of  impurity.  And  Father  Segueri  says  that  three- 
fourths  of  the  reprobate  are  damned  for  this  vice.  The 
hatred  which  God  bears  to  sins  against  purity  is  great 
beyond  measure.  If  a  lady  finds  her  plate  soiled,  she  is 
disgusted  and  cannot  eat.  Now,  with  what  disgust  and 
indignation  must  God,  who  is  purity  itself,  behold  the  im 
purities  by  which  his  law  is  violated  !  He  loves  purity  with 
an  infinite  love,  and  consequently  lie  has  an  infinite  hatred 
for  the  sensuality  which  the  lewd,  voluptuous  man  calls  a 
rmall  evil.  We  may  rest  assured  that,  as  pride  has  filled 
hell  with  fallen  angels,  so  impurity  fills  it  with  the  souls  of 
men. 

A  young  student,  a  model  of  piety,  and  who  frequented 
the  sacraments,  was  one  morning  going  to  Mass.  He  met 
two  of  his  schoolmates,  who  invited  and  forced  him  to 
breakfast  with  them  in  a  saloon.  He  refused  ;  but  he  was 
in  a  manner  forced  to  consent.  He  took  some  wine  with 
them  ;  very  little  at  first,  but  soon  liked  it,  and  took  more. 
It  began  to  rise  to  his  head.  At  this  moment  his  eyes  fell 
on  one  of  the  waiting  girls.  He  yielded  to  the  temptation, 
and  was  stabbed  in  the  very  act  of  sin.  His  two  com 
panions,  terrified,  quitted  the  world,  and  led  lives  of  rigor 
and  penance  in  a  monastery. 

About  six  years  ago,  a  young  man  came  to  one  of  the 


110       THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS— IMPUNITY. 

Redemptorist  Fathers  in  New  York,  and  said:  "Father, 
be  kind  enough  to  hear  my  confession  without  delay.  I 
have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  scandalize  a  young  lady. 
She  died  in  the  very  act  of  sin.  A  while  ago  she  appeared 
to  me  all  on  fire,  and  said  that  she  was  damned,  and  that  I 
was  the  cause  of  her  damnation,  of  her  everlasting  torments. 
I  tremble  all  over,  and  fear  I  may  die  in  the  same  manner/' 
The  same  father  was  one  day  called  to  assist  a  dying  man  in 
a  house  of  ill-fame.  But  he  went  in  vain.  The  impure 
man  was  dead  and  judged.  He  died  in  the  very  act  of  sin. 
The  same  punishment  was  inflicted  about  two  years  ago 
on  some  young  people  in  one  of  the  New  England  States. 
They  were  found  dead  in  the  corn-field  in  the  act  of  sin. 

One  day,  the  Fathers  of  the  Mission  of  St.  Vincent  gave 
a  retreat  in  their  house  at  Florence  to  a  gentleman  who  had 
lived  in  criminal  intercourse  with  a  lady,  who  died  before 
making  her  peace  with  God.  While  this  gentleman,  in  the 
bitterness  of  his  repentance,  was  imploring  the  Divine  mercy 
for  the  companion  of  his  guilt,  she  appeared  to  him,  and 
said:  "Do  not  pray  for  me,  for  I  am  damned";  after 
which,  to  convince  him  of  the  reality  of  her  apparition,  she 
placed  her  hand  on  the  table  before  which  he  was  kneeling 
in  prayer,  and  the  part  which  she  touched  received  the 
burnt  impress  of  her  hand.  This  table  is  still  preserved  in 
Naples.  * 

St.  Alphonsus  relates  that  one  day  a  young  girl  was  go 
ing  to  church.  On  the  way  she  met  a  young  man  of  her 
acquaintance.  He  saluted  her,  and  asked  her  whither  she 
was  going.  "  I  am  going  to  church,"  she  replied.  "  This 
is  a  beautiful  day,"  said  the  young  man.  "  The  sun  shines 
BO  brightly.  You  have  plenty  of  time  to  go  to  church ; 
come  and  let  us  take  a  short  walk."  The  girl  hesitated  at 
first,  but  she  forgot  to  pray,  and  at  last  she  consented. 
They  both  went  out  into  the  fields,  and  the  devil  went  with 
*  Life  of  St.  ALphonaua. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS— IMPUNITY.       Ill 

them.     The  young  girl  forgot  all  about  Mass.     She  did  not 
think  of  the  terrible  danger  to  which  she  exposed  herself, 
and  at  last  when  she  returned  home  she  was  no  longer  inno 
cent.     The  young  man  went  away,  and  she  never  saw  him 
any  more.     The  girl  went  home,  but  she  did  not  tell  her 
parents  what  had   happened,  and  they  suspected  nothing. 
Evening  came,  and  the  girl  felt  unwell.     Morning  came,  and 
the  girl  was  much  worse.     A  neighboring  woman  came  in, 
and  when  she  saw  the  girl  she  grew  pale  and  whispered  to 
the  mother :  "  For  God's  sake,  send  quick  for  the  priest ; 
your  daughter  is  dying."     The  girl's  brother  ran  in  haste 
for  the  priest,  but  he  was  not  at  home.     He  had  gone  far 
away  on  a  sick  call.     The  girl's  mother  went  to  the  window 
and  looked  out  anxiously,  to  see  if  the  priest  was  coming. 
Suddenly  the  young  girl   uttered   a  fearful  scream.     The 
mother  ran  to  the  bedside.     The  daughter  was  sitting  up, 
her  face  was  deadly  pale,  her  eyes  were  staring  wildlv. 
"My  poor  child,"  said  the  mother,  "what  is  the  matter  ? 
Why  did  you  scream?"     The  girl  pointed  with  her  finger 
to  a  corner  of  the  room  and   said:   "0  mother,  mother  ! 
look,  look  !     Do  you  not  see  them  ?"     "No,  my  child," 
said   the   mother,  "I  can   see  nothing."      "0   mother!" 
screamed  the  girl  in  an  agony  of  terror.     "  See  them,  those 
horrible  black   people.      See,  they   are  coming  near  me." 
"  Do  not  mind  those  black  people,  my  darling,"  said  the 
mother  soothingly.     "  The  priest  will  soon  be  here,  and  lie 
will  drive  them  away."     And  the  mother  gently  laid  back 
the  girl's    head  on    the    pillow.      "  Now   sleep,  my  dear 
child,"  said  she ;  "  the  priest  will  soon  be  here,  and  all  will 
be  well."     She  then  went  once  more  to  the  window,  and 
looked   out    anxiously   to   see   if    the   priest   was   coming. 
Again  the  girl  uttered  a  wild  shriek.     The  mother  hastened 
to  her  side.     The  girl  was  sitting  up  as  before — her  eyes 
glared  wildly,  looking  like  two  balls  of  fire.     The  mother 
laid  her  hand  gently  on  her  djiughter's  forehead,  and  she 


1 1 2       7 'HE  PR OJJIGAL'S  COMPANIONS— IMP  UHITY. 

could  feel  the  blood  throbbing  against  her  temple.  The  girl 
looked  fixedly  at  a  corner  of  the  room.  She  neither  stir 
red  nor  spoke,  but  seemed  transfixed  with  terror.  Suddenly 
she  shuddered  convulsively,  and,  turning  to  her  mother, 
screamed :  "0  mother,  mother,  look  !  The  black  people 
are  coming  to  me.  0  mother  !  they  tell  me  they  are  devils  ; 
that  they  are  going  to  carry  my  soul  to  hell."  And  then 
she  began  to  shriek  wildly,  and  to  curse  the  young  man  that 
was  the  cause  of  her  ruin.  She  grew  black  as  if  she  were 
choking,  fell  into  convulsions,  and  at  last  gasped  and  died. 
Yes,  she  died  without  the  priest,  died  in  her  sins,  and  her 
soul  was  carried  by  the  devils  to  hell. 

Ah,  what  a  horrible  death  !  God  created  this  girl  for 
heaven.  All  that  she  had  to  do,  to  gain  heaven,  was  to 
avoid  bad  example  and  bad  company.  The  moment  ol 
temptation  came  for  her ;  she  did  not  pray,  she  did  not  re 
sist.  She  broke  the  commandment  of  God.  She  commit 
ted  a  mortal  sin,  and  died  without  confession  or  repentance. 
Bad  she  at  least  made  a  good  act  of  contrition,  she  might 
yet  have  been  saved  ;  but  no,  she  died  in  despair,  and  the 
devils  carried  her  soul  to  hell.  The  impure  may  say  that 
the  sin  of  impurity  is  but  a  small  evil.  But  at  the  hour  of 
death  they  will  not  say  so.  Every  sin  of  impurity  shall 
then  show  itself  such  as  it  really  is— a  monster  of  hell. 
Much  less  will  they  say  so  before  the  judgment-seat  of 
Jesus  Christ,  who  will  tell  them  what  His  apostle  has  al 
ready  told  them  :  "  No  fornicator  or  unclean  hath  inherit 
ance  in  the  kingdom  of  God."  *  The  man  who  has  lived 
like  a  brute  cannot  sit  among  the  angels.  'Common-sense, 
the  voice  of  conscience,  Holy  Scripture,  the  Fathers  of  the 
Church,  all  the  Saints,  even  all  the  devils,  tell  him  so. 

All  that  has  been  said  on  this  subject  has  been  said,  not 
that  any  one  who  has  been  addicted  to  the  vice  of  impurity 
may  be  driven  to  despair,  but  that  he  maybe  cured.  Let 
*  Bph.  v.  5. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS— IMPURITY.       113 

him  pray  to  God,  let  him  pray  to  the  Mother  of  God,  in 
order  to  obtain,  through  her  powerful  intercession,  light  to 
see  the  great  danger  of  damnation  which  his  soul  incurs, 
and  courage  and  strength  to  deliver  himself  from  this  dan 
ger  by  a  sincere  confession  and  firm  purpose  of  amendment 
of  life — by  avoiding  the  occasions  of  this  sin,  and  by  hav 
ing  immediate  recourse  to  prayer  as  soon  as  he  is  assailed 
by  temptations  against  the  holy  virtue  of  chastity. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE   PRODIGAL   A    MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS. 

ST.  JOHN  the  Evangelist  was  once  taken  in  spirit  to  the 
bank  of  a  sea.  And  behold,  as  he  stood  there,  a  hideous 
beast  came  out  of  the  deep  sea.  It  had  seven  heads  and  ten 
horns,  and  upon  its  horns  were  ten  diadems,  and  upon  its 
heads  were  written  names  of  blasphemy.  And  the  beast 
was  like  a  leopard,  and  its  feet  were  as  the  feet  of  a  bear, 
and  its  mouth  was  as  the  mouth  of  a  lion.  And  this  mon 
ster,  opened  its  mouth  in  blasphemies  against  God,  against 
His  holy  name,  against  His  tabernacle,  the  holy  Church, 
and  against  the  Saints  in  Heaven.  And  the  dragon  of  hell 
gave  this  beast  his  own  power  and  great  strength,  and  the 
beast  waged  war  against  the  Saints,  the  children  of  God.* 
How  great  would  be  our  horror  were  this  monster  to  appear 
to  us  !  We  should  die  of  fright.  And  yet,  there  are  many 
who  have  been  for  years  carrying  in  their  hearts  a  far  more 
hideous  monster — a  monster  so  horrible  that,  could  we  but 
see  it  in  its  true  shape,  the  sight  of  it  would  kill  us.  They 
have  carried  this  monster  in  their  hearts  day  and  night, 
waking  and  sleeping;  they  have  carried  it  for  days  and 
weeks,  and  for  years.  And  the  name  of  it  is  drunkenness- 
The  spirit  of  intemperance  every  day  changes  human  beings 
into  savage  beasts — into  the  hideous  monsters  of  the  Apoca 
lypse  with  seven  heads.  These  seven  heads  are  the  seven 
deadly  sins,  which  are  all  found  in  the  drunkard.  The 
drunkard  is  proud,  envious,  gluttonous,  full  of  lust,  etc. 
There  are,  of  course,  degrees  of  intemperance,  and  many 

•Apoc.  xiii.  1. 
114 


THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS.     115 

persons  are  only  at  times  guilty  of  this  sin.  There  are  many 
who  say  that  drunkenness  is  no  sin.  It  is  not  considered  by 
those  outside  the  Church  as  a  sin,  but  as  a  weakness  :  men 
speak  of  it  as  a  misfortune  ;  physicians  class  it  as  a  simple 
mania,  to  be  pitied  rather  than  condemned.  Instead  of 
giving  to  it,  as  a  moral  disease,  a  moral  remedy,  they  encour 
age  it  by  taking  away  its  enormity.  But  what  says  the  "Word 
of  God  ?  It  tells  us  that  drunkenness  is  a  mortal  sin.  St. 
Paul  says  :  "  The  drunkard  shall  not  possess  the  kingdom 
of  God."*  And  why  shall  not  the.  drunkard  possess  the 
kingdom  of  God  ?  Because  the  sin  of  drunkenness  of  which 
he  becomes  guilty  is  a  grievous  sin  against  nature,  against 
religion,  against  himself,  against  the  family,  and  therefore 
against  God,  the  Author  of  nature,  the  Spirit  of  religion, 
and  the  Founder  of  the  family.  It  goes  against  nature,  be 
cause  it  ruins  the  body,  corrupts  the  soul,  and  changes  the 
image  of  God  in  man  into  the  likeness  of  a  brute. 

It  is  a  singular  fact  that  the  devil  may  tempt  a  man  in  a 
thousand  ways.  He  may  get  him  to  violate  the  law  of  God 
in  a  thousand  ways,  but  he  cannot  rob  him  of  the  divine 
image  that  the  law  of  God  set  upon  him  in  reason,  in  love 
and  freedom.  The  demon  of  pride  may  assail  us,  but  the 
proudest  man  retains  these  three  great  faculties  in  which 
his  manhood  consists;  for  man  is  the  image  of  God.  The 
image  of  God  is  in  him ;  his  intelligence,. love,  and  freedom 
are -the  quintessence  of  his  human  nature  that  the  devil 
must  respect.  Just  as  of  old  the  Lord  said  to  the  demon  : 
"You  may  strike  my  servant  Job  ;  you  may  afflict  him  ; 
you  may  cover  him  with  ulcers ;  you  may  destroy  his  house 
and  his  children  ;  but  respect  his  life  ;  you  must  not  touch 
his  life."  So  Almighty  God  seems  to  say  to  the  very  devils 
of  hell :  "  You  may  lead  man,  by  temptations,  into  whatso- 
,ever  sins  ;  but  you  must  respect  his  manhood  ;  he  must  still 
remain  a  man."  To  all  except  one  !  There  is  one  devil 
*  1  Cor  vi.  0. 


M6     THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS. 

alone  who  is  able  not  only  to  rob  us  of  that  divine  grace  by 
which  we  are  children  of  God,  but  to  rob  us  of  every  essen 
tial  feature  of  humanity,  in  taking  away  from  us  the  intelli 
gence  by  which  we  know,  the  affection  by  which  we  love, 
the  freedom  by  which  we  act,  as  human  beings,  as  we  are. 
What  demon  is  this  who  is  the  enemy  not  only  of  God  but 
of  human  nature  ?    It  is  the  terrible  demon  of  intempe 
rance.     Every  other  demon  that  tempts  man  to  sin  may 
exult  in  the  ruin  of  the  soul ;  he  may  deride  and  insult 
Almighty  God  for  the  moment,  and  riot  in  his  triumph  ; 
insult  Him  as  the  author  of  that  grace  which  the  soul  has 
lost.     The  demon  of  drunkenness  alone  can  say  to  Almighty 
God:  "Thou  alone,  0  Lord,  art  the  fountain,  the  source, 
the  Creator  of  nature  and  of  grace.     What  vestige  of  grace 
is  here?     I  defy  you,   I  d  jf y  the  world  to  tell  me  that 
here  is  a  vestige  even  of  humanity  ! "     Behold  the  drunk 
ard.     Behold  the  image  of  God  as  he  comes  forth  from  the 
drinking-saloon,  where  he  has  pandered  to  the  meanest, 
vilest,  and  most  degrading  of  the  senses — the  sense  of  taste. 
He  has  laid  down  his  soul  upon  the  altar  of  the  poorest 
devil  of  them  all — the  devil  of  gluttony.     Upon  that  altar 
he  has  left  his  reason,  his  affections,  and  his  freedom.     Be 
hold  him  now,  as  he  reels  forth,  senseless  and  debauched, 
from  that  drinking-house!    Where  is  his  humanity  ?    Where 
is  the  image  of  God  ?    He  is  unable  to  conceive  a  thought. 
He  is  unable  to  express  an  idea  with  his  babbling  tongue, 
which  pours  forth  feebly,  like  a  child,  some  impotent,  out 
rageous  blasphemy  against  Heaven!     Where  are  his  affec 
tions  ?     He  is  incapable  of  love  ;  no  generous  emotion  can 
pass  through  him.     No  high  and  holy  love  can  move  that 
degraded,  surfeited  heart.    The  most  that  can  come  to  him 
is  the  horrible  demon  of  impurity,  to  shake  him  with  emo 
tions  of  which,  even  in  that  hour,  he  is  incapable!    Finally, 
where  is  his  freedom  ?    Why,  he  is  not  able  to  walk,  not 
able  to  stand,  he  is  not  able  to  guide  himself  !     If  a  child 


THE  PRODIGAL  A  MOKSTKR — DRUNKENNESS.     11? 

came  along  and  pushed  him,  it  would  throw  him  down. 
He  has  no  freedom  left — no  will.  If,  then,  the  image  of 
the  Lord  in  man  be  intelligence — in  the  heart  and  in  the 
will — I  say  this  man  is  no  man.  He  is  a  standing  re 
proach  to  humanity.  He  has  cast  aside  his  manhood  and 
adopted  the  habits  of  a  brute.  He  roars  like  a  lion,  he 
capers  like  a  donkey,  he  wallows  in  the  mire  like  a  swine. 
What  sort  of  an  animal  is  he?  He  is  a  swine,  and  worse  than 
a  swine  ;  for  what  animal  is  there  more  filthy  and  impure 
than  a  drunkard,  whose  very  thought,  word,  and  deed  reek 
of  impurity  !  When  did  a  drunken  man  or  a  drunken 
woman  commit  the  most  abominable,  the  most  unnatural 
crimes  ?  When  did  they  degrade  themselves  below  the 
brute  beast  ?  Was  it  not  when  their  reason  was  besotted  by 
the  accursed  vice  of  drunkenness  ?  Look  upon  the  wretch 
ed  drunkard  as  he  staggers  along  the  street !  The  street 
seems  too  narrow  for  him  ;  his  feet  are  unable  to  carry  their 
monstrous  load.  He  reels  ;  he  falls ;  he  wallows  in  the 
mire  till  he  is  all  besmeared  with  filth.  The  very  dogs 
come  and  look  at  him,  smell  him,  wag  their  tails,  and  walk 
off.  They  can  walk,  but  he  cannot;  they  find  their  way 
home,  but  he  cannot. 

And  this  is  the  image  of  God  ?  No ;  he  is  110  longer 
the  image  of  God,  because  lie  has  lost  his  intelligence. 
What  says  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  The  man  blinded,  when 
he  has  no  honor — when  he  has  lost  his  intelligence — He 
compares  to  a  senseless  beast;  like  unto  it  he  is  no  longer 
the  image  of  God,  but  only  a  brute  beast.  And  if  such  be 
the  sin  that  the  drunkard  commits  against  humanity,  what 
shall  be  said  of  the  sin  that  he  commits  against  religion? 

The  drunkard  seldom  or  never  goes  to  Mass.  He  never 
goes  to  confession.  Or,  if  he  does,  it  is  only  to  lie  to  the  Holy 
Ghost,  for  he  promises  to  abstain  from  drink,  and  he  breaks 
his  promises  as  soon  as  he  has  made  them.  He  is  a  disgrace 
to  religion,  the  enemy  of  the  priest,  the  stumbling-block  to 


1.18     THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKKNNESS. 

hundreds  in  the  way  of  conversion,  a  mockery  of  our  holy 
faith,  a  wretch  who  drags  his  faith  in  the  mire  and  pollutes 
the  precious  blood  of  Jesus  Christ.  Go  through  the  streets 
of  any  of  our  large  cities,  and  see  a  drunkard  staggering 
along  and  serving  as  a  laughing-stock  for  the  whole  neigh 
borhood.  Go  ask  who  it  is,  and  to  your  shame  some 
scoffing  infidel  will  tell  you,  sneeringly,  "Oh!  it  is  only  a 
drunken  Catholic! "  A  drunken  Catholic  !  My  God  !  is  it 
then  for  this  that  thou  hast  come  into  the  world?  Sweet 
Jesus !  is  this  the  fruit  of  thy  bitter  passion  !  Is  it  for 
this  that  thou  didst  bleed  and  die,  to  found  a  pure  and 
holy  religion  ?  And  is  it  for  this  that  the  priests  of  God 
have  left  father  and  mother,  home  and  friends,  and  all  that 
was  near  and  dear  to  them  on  earth  ?  Is  it  for  this  that 
they  have  studied  and  labored  so  long — that  they  have  re 
nounced  all  the  pleasures  and  honors  of  life  ?  Have  they 
sacrificed  all  only  to  become  the  priests  of  a  people  who 
trample  all  the  dictates  of  religion  and  reasen  under  foot, 
who  are  the  disgrace  of  their  faith,  their  countrv,  and  their 
God? 

When  God  upbraided  the  Israelites  by  the  mouth  of  his 
>rophet,  he  named  all  their  wicked  crimes  one  by  one. 
''  There  is,"  saith  the  Lord,  "no  truth,  there  is  no  mercy, 
there  is  no  knowledge  of  God  among  these  people.  Cursing, 
lying  and  murder,  and  robbery  and  adultery  have  over 
flowed  the  land ;  one  bloody  deed  surpasses  the  other."  And 
then,  as  if  to  sum  up  al!  these  grievous  crimes  in  one  most 
grievous  crime,  God  says  :  "These  people  are  become  like 
unto  those  that  contradict  the  priests."  This  terrible  truth 
,s  the  last  degree  of  wickedness  to  which  sinners  can  come ; 
for  he  who  contradicts  the  priests  of  God  contradicts  God 
Himself.  Our  Saviour  says  to  the  apostles  :  "He  who  de 
spises  you  despises  me."  He  saddens  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and 
Jesus  assures  us  that  he  who  sins  against  the  Holy  Ghost 
shall  not  obtain  forgiveness,  neither  in  this  life  nor  in  the 


THE  PROD  jo  AL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS.     119 

life  to  come.  Now,  call  together  the  sinners  of  every  class, 
seek  especially  those  who  by  every  word  and  action  contra 
dict  the  priest  of  God,  and  foremost  among  them  you  will 
find  the  drunkard.  Yes,  the  drunkards  are  those  who  con 
tradict  the  priest.  The  priests  tell  them  that  drunken 
ness  is  a  grievous  sin,  and  they  answer  that  it  is  only  a 
weakness  of  nature,  more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed.  The 
priests  tell  them  that  they  dishonor  their  faith,  that  they 
make  themselves  a  laughing-stock  for  the  enemies  of  our 
holy  Church,  and  these  unworthy  Catholics  choose  the  most 
solemn  festivals,  the  most  sacred  days,  as  the  most  fitting 
occasion  when  to  satisfy  their  accursed  passion.  The  priests 
denounce  the  detestable  crime  of  drunkenness.  From  the 
altar  they  protest  against  it,  in  the  name  of  God.  And  ther 
men  who  have  heard  them  leave  the  church  to  go  straight 
to  the  low  haunts  of  sin  and  intemperance.  They  have 
been  implored  for  the  love  of  God,  for  the  love  that  they 
bear  to  their  immortal  souls,  to  give  up  drunkenness  and  tc 
lead  sober  and  upright  lives.  And  those  very  Catholics  wh< 
have  heard  such  pleadings  and  prayers  in  the  morning,  one 
blushes  to  meet  in  the  evening  staggering  home  in  their 
drunken  defilement ;  and  perhaps,  ere  another  day  has  pass 
ed,  the  priest  is  sent  for  to  prepare  them  for  an  untimely 
death.  What  wonder  at  the  fearful  vengeance  that  so  often 
falls  upon  the  drunkard  !  Listen  to  the  dread  sentence 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  :  "The  drunkard  shall  not  enter  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven/'  Listen  to  the  terrible  threat  which 
God  has  pronounced  against  them  by  the  mouth  of  His 
prophet:  "I  shall  make  them  drunk  till  they  fall  asleep, 
and  sleep  that  eternal  sleep,  that  knows  no  waking."* 
"  They  shall  die  as  they  have  lived,  they  shall  die  in  their 
sins." 

In  the  year  1872,  there  was  in  the  poor-house  of  Crown 
Point,  Lake  County,  Indiana,  a  native  of  Grosslosheim  ia 
*  Isaias  li.  89. 


120     THE  PRODIGAL  A  MOXSTKR — DRUNKENNESS. 

the  diocese  of  Treves,  Germany.  He  had  been  a  rich  man, 
but  through  his  intemperance  he  was  soon  reduced  to  beg 
gary.  He  came  over  to  this  country  to  try  and  repair  his 
fortune.  Here  he-  grew  worse  and  worse  ;  he  fell  away  from 
his  religion;  he  renounced  his  God,  and  became  a  bitter 
enemy  of  everything  sacred.  He  ridiculed  God,  he  ridi 
culed  religion,  he  ridiculed  the  priest,  the  church,  the  sacra 
ments,  the  pious,  the  saints.  Well,  death  came  to  him  at  last. 
He  was  missed  from  the  poor-house  for  some  days.  No 
one  knew  anything  of  his  whereabouts  until  on  the  27th  of 
October,  1872,  his  bones  and  clothes  were  found  scattered 
about — not  in  the  grave-yard,  not  in  the  field,  not  in  the 
streets,  but  in  the  pig-sty.  Having  led  the  life  of  a  swine, 
he  was  eaten  up  by  the  swine. 

The  drunkard  sins  not  only  against  nature  and  against 
religion,  but  he  also  sins  grievously  against  himself. 

Look  at  a  young  man  of  eighteen  or  nineteen  whose 
father,  mother,  or  himself  have  never  touched  intoxicating 
drink:  he  is  full  of  strength  and  energy,  mentally  and 
physically  ready  for  any  emergency.  Let  him  begin  to 
drink  liquor  :  he  does  not  become  a  drunkard  suddenly ;  he 
sinks  by  the  regular  stages ;  his  liking  for  drink  grows  on 
him  slowly  but  surely,  until  at  last  he  becomes  a  regular 
drunkard.  At  twenty-seven  or  twenty-eight  he  has  become 
a  wreck,  with  tottering  feet,  trembling  hands,  glassy  eyes  : 
drink  has  ruined  his  constitution.  The  man  has  been  poi 
soned. 

It  is  known  that  out  of  every  ten  gallons  of  drink  sold 
nowadays — especially  in  the  low  grog-shops — nine  gallons 
are  poison.  This  enters  into  the  system,  destroys  the  coat 
ing  of  the  stomach,  is  absorbed  in  the  blood,  and  ruins  the 
entire  health.  The  strongest  proof  of  the  effects  of  drink 
is  to  be  found  in  the  cities,  where  the  terrible  epidemics  of 
cholera,  typhus,  or  yellow  fever  have  paid  their  visits — the 
first  men  who  fall  are  the  drunkards.  Read  the  statistics 


THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER— DRUNKKNNESS.     121 

of    New  Orleans,  Liverpool,  London,  and  New  York,  and 
you  will  find  this  to  be  the  fact. 

Ah  !  yes,  the  drunkard  loses  health,  loses  reputation,  loses 
his  friends,  loses  his  wife  and  family,  loses  domestic  happi 
ness,  loses  everything.  And  in  addition  to  this  is  the 
slavery  that  no  power  on  earth,  and  scarcely — be  it  said  with 
reverence — any  power  in  Heaven,  can  seem  to  be  able  to 
assuage.  All  this  is  the  injury  that  man  inflicts  upon  him 
self  by  this  terrible  sin. 

Finally,  consider  the  evil  that  the  drunkard  does  to  his 
family.  St.  Paul  says  that  he  "who  neglects  his  family  is 
worse  than  a  heathen,  and  has  already  denied  his  faith." 
We  are  bound  to  love  .our  neighbor.  Our  neighbor  may  be 
a  Turk,  a  Mormon,  or  an  infidel,  but  we  must  love  him. 
For  instance,  we  are  bound  to  regret  any  evil  that  hap 
pens  to  him,  because  we  are  bound  to  have  a  certain  amount 
of  love  for  all  men.  Well,  in  that  charity  which  binds  us 
to  our  neighbor  there  is  a  greater  and  a  less.  A  man  must 
love  with  Christian  charity  all  men.  But  there  are  certain 
individuals  that  have  a  special  claim  on  his  love  that  he  is 
bound,  for  instance,  not  only  to  love,  but  to  honor,  to  wor 
ship,  to  maintain.  And  who  are  they?  The  father  and  the 
mother  that  bore  us  ;  the  wife  that  gave  us  her  young 
heart  and  her  young  beauty  ;  the  children  that  Almighty 
God  gave  us.  These  gifts  of  God — the  family,  the  wife, 
the  children,  have  the  first  claim  upon  us ;  and  they  have 
the  most  stringent  demand  upon  that  charity  concentrated, 
which,  as  Christians,  we  must  diffuse  to  all  men.  And  this 
is  precisely  the  point  wherein  the  drunkard  shows  himself 
more  hard-hearted  than  the  wild  beast.  The  woman  that 
in  her  youth,  and  modesty,  and  purity,  and  beauty  put  her 
maiden  hand  into  his  before  the  altar  of  God,  and  swore 
away  to  him  her  young  heart  and  her  young  love ;  the 
woman  who  had  the  trust  in  him  to  take  him  for  ever  and 
'or  aye  ;  the  woman  who,  if  you  will,  had  the  confiding 


122     THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS 

folly  to  bind  up  with  him  all  the  dreams  that  ever  she  had 
of  happiness,  or  peace,  or  joy  in  this  world  ;  the  woman 
that  said  to  him,  "  Next  to  God,  and  after  God,  I  will  let 
thee  into  my  heart,  and  love  thee  and  thee  alone,"  and  then 
before  the  altar  of  God  received  the  seal  of  sacramental 
grace  upon  that  pure  love — this  is  the  woman,  and  her  chil 
dren  and  his  children,  towards  whom  the  drunkard  cannot 
fulfil  his  duties  of  a  husband  and  a  father. 

How  is  it  possible  for  him  to  do  so  ? 

The  drunkard  is  a  husband.  Why,  his  wife  is  starving 
and  in  rags  ;  he  treats  her  as  if  she  was  the  vilest  slave. 
The  drunkard  is  a  father.  Look  at  his  children  :  they  are 
shivering  with  cold  and  crying  for  bread,  while  he  is  spend 
ing  his  last  dollar  in  the  bar-room.  Whose  boy  is  just  ar 
rested  for  robbery  ?  He  is  the  drunkard's  son.  Poor  boy  ! 
his  unnatural  father  spent  in  liquor  the  little  money  that 
might  have  supported  him  honestly,  and  the  wretched  boy 
was  forced  to  steal  in  order  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  hun 
ger.  There  is  that  son,  that  daughter,  taught  to  drink 
from  their  very  childhood,  brought  up  in  ignorance  of  their 
religion,  and  utterly  demoralized  by  bad  example.  In  early 
youth,  they  found  the  way  to  the  saloon  and  to  th'i  low 
haunts  of  sin  and  shame.  They  have  been  taught  by  their 
own  parents  to  drink  and  to  curse,  and  now  they  curse  those 
very  parents,  and  they  raise  their  guilty  hands  to  strike 
those  who  bore  them,  and  thus  bring  down  upon  their  own 
heads  the  terrible  curse  of  God.  What  slatternly,  dirty 
creature  is  that  with  a  black  eye  and  a  bloated  face  ?  It  is 
the  drunken  wife.  Her  husband  is,  perhaps,  far  away, 
working  for  her  support.  He  sends  her.  the  pay  which  he  has 
earned  at  the  price  of  hard  toil.  And  little  does  he  dream 
that  these  hard-earned  wages  only  help  to  ruin  his  family 
and  to  make  his  wife  a  drunkard. 

Rev.  Father  T.  Burke,  O.P.,  relates  the  following:  "  J 
was,"  says  he,  "  on  a  missrti  some  years  ago  in  a  manufoo- 


THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS.     123 

turing  town  in  England.  I  was  preaching  there  every  even 
ing,  and  a  man  came  to  me  one  night  after  a  sermon  on  this 
very  subject  of  drunkenness.  He  came  in — a  fine  man :  a 
strapping,  healthy,  intellectual-looking  man.  But  the  eye 
was  almost  burned  in  his  head,  and  was  glassy.  The  fore 
head  was  furrowed  with  premature  wrinkles ;  the  hair 
was  steel-gray,  though  the  man  was  evidently  compara 
tively  young.  He  was  dressed  shabbily ;  scarce  a  shoe  to 
his  feet,  though  it  was  a  wet  night.  He  came  into  me  ex 
citedly  after  the  sermon,  but  the  excitement  had  something 
of  drink  in  it.  He  told  me  his  history.  '  I  don't  know,'  he 
said,  '  that  there  is  any  hope  for  me  ;  but  stilh  as  I  was 
listening  to  the  sermon.  I  must  speak  to  you.  If  I  don't 
speak  to  some  one,  this  heart  will  break  to-night.'  What 
was  his  story  ?  Five  years  before  he  had  amassed  in 
trade  twenty  thousand  pounds,  or  one  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars.  He  had  married  an  Irish  girl — one  of 
his  own  race  and  creed,  young,  beautiful,  and  accom 
plished.  He  had  two  sons  and  a  daughter — a  woman.  He 
told  me  for  a  certain  time  everything  went  nr>  well.  '  At 
last,'  he  said,  e  I  had  the  misfortune  to  begin  to  drink — 
neglected  my  business,  and  then  my  business  began  to 
neglect  me.  The  woman  saw  poverty  coming,  and  began 
to  fret,  and  lost  her  health.  At  last,  when  we  were  paupers, 
she  sickened  and  died.  I  was  drunk,'  he  said,  '  the  day 
that  she  died.  I  sat  by  her  bedside.  I  was  drunk  when 
she  was  dying.'  'The  sons — what  became  of  them?' 
'  Well/  he  said,  '  they  were  mere  children.  The  eldest  of 
them  is  no  more  than  eighteen ;  and  they  are  both  trans 
ported  as  robbers  to  Australia.'  'The  girl?'  'Well,'  he 
said,  '  I  sent  the  girl  to  a  school  where  she  was  well  edu 
cated.  She  came  home  to  me  when  she  ff&s  sixteen  years 
of  age,  a  beautiful  young  woman.  She  was  the  one  conso 
lation  I  had;  but  I  was  drunk  all  the  time.'  'Well,  what 
became  of  her?'  Lit-  looked  at  me.  'Do  you  ask  me 


124     THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS* 

about  that  girl/  he  said,  '  what  became  of  her  ? '  And 
as  if  the  man  was  shot,  down  he  went,  with  his  head  on  the 
floor — '  God  of  Heaven  !  God  of  Heaven  !  She  is  on  the 
streets  to-night — a  prostitute  !'  The  moment  he  said  that 
word  he  ran  out.  I  went  after  him.  '  Oh,  no  !  oh,  no  !  ' 
he  said  ;  '  there  is  no  mercy  in  Heaven  for  me.  I  left  my 
child  on  the  streets  !'  He  went  away  cursing  God  to  meet 
a  drunkard's  death.  He  had  sent  a  broken-hearted  mother 
to  the  grave  ;  he  sent  his  two  sons  to  perdition  ;  he  sent  his 
only  daughter  to  be  a  living  hell.  And  then  he  died  bias- 
pheming  God  ! " 

Again,  look  at  the  drunkard.  There  is  stupidity  in  his  face, 
fire  in  his  brain,  and  the  demon  of  hatred  and  anger  in  his 
soul.  Hear  the  broken  curses,  the  blasphemies,  that  flow  from 
Iris  lips.  He  imagines  that  every  one  he  meets  is  his  .enemy  ; 
he  fights  and  quarrels  even  with  his  best  friends.  What 
sort  of  an  animal  is  lie  ?  He  is  a  tiger,  and  worse  than  a  tiger. 
Ah  !  God  help  his  poor  wife  when  he  comes  home.  She 
once  married  a  kind,  good-natured  man ;  but  now  that  he 
has  turned  to  drink  he  has  become  a  tiger.  See  how  he 
storms  about  the  house,  cursing  and  swearing  !  He  breaks 
the  furniture,  he  smashes  the  doors  and  windows,  and  alarms 
the  whole  neighborhood.  Look  at  his  poor  children.  God 
help  them  now  !  See  how  they  cower  and  hide  themselves 
away  from  their  own  father.  Father,  indeed  !  They  trem 
ble  in  deadly  fear  at  the  sight  of  him  whom  they  should 
love  and  honor.  To  them  the  dear  name  of  "father  "  is  not 
a  name  of  love.  Ah,  no  !  it  is  a  name  of  hate  and  terror. 
They  whisper  to  one  another:  " Father's  drunk  again  ;  let 
us  go  away."  The  poor  wife  tries  to  calm  him,  perhaps, 
with  Kind  words,  and  what  is  her  return  ?  0  shame  !  0  ye 
men,  born  of  woman,  nourished  at  her  breast,  hang  your 
heads  in  shame  at  such  a  deed  !  And  you,  angels  of  God, 
veil  your  faces  lest  you  witness  the  heavy  blow  and  the 
brutal  kick.  Poor,  unhappy  wife  !  God  pity  her  !  Was 


THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS.     125 

it,  then,  for  this  that  she  sacrificed  all  that  was  near  and 
dear  to  her  in  the  world  ?  Was  it  for  this  that  she  tore  her 
self  away  from  her  fond  parents,  from  her  loving  brothers 
and  sisters,  in  order  to  follow  him  and  to  love  him  ?  Ah  ! 
better  were  it  for  her,  on  the  day  she  gave  him  her  hand  and 
heart,  had  her  bridal  garment  been  changed  into  a  shroud. 
Better  were  it  for  her  had  she  lain  stiff  and  cold  in  her 
coffin,  than  to  have  stood  with  him  as  his  bride  before  the 
altar.  On  the  day  he  wedded  her,  he  promised  before  the 
altar  of  God,  in  presence  of  the  holy  angels,  in  presence  of 
the  Almighty  God,  that  he  would  love,  honor,  and  cherish 
her.  And  see  how  he  has  kept  his  promise  !  He  has  lost 
his  reason ;  he  has  degraded  his  manhood ;  his  once  noble 
nature  is  now  turned  into  the  nature  of  a  wild,  ferocious 
beast.  He  stamps  about  the  room,  swearing  by  t-he  holy 
name  of  God  that  he  will  not  be  dictated  to  by  any  living 
being — man  or  woman.  His  glaring  eye  at  last  falls  upon 
the  prostrate  form  of  his  once-loved  wife.  She  is  lying  on 
the  floor,  pale  and  lifeless.  What  does  he  see  ?  What  is  it 
that  makes  him  thus  start  back,  horror-stricken  ?  It  is 
blood !  Yes,  there  is  blood  on  the  pale  face  of  his  lifeless 
wife;  there  is  blood  upon  the  clothes  ;  there  is  blood  upon 
the  floor ;  and,  before  he  can  collect  his  scattered  thoughts, 
there  is  a  noise  outside  :  the  officers  of  justice  enter.  The 
drunkard — the  murderer — is  seized  and  handcuffed  ;  he  is 
hurried  to  prison  ;  he  is  tried  and  found  guilty — guilty  of 
murder  ;  and  then — his  body  to  the  hangman,  and  his  sou] 
—to  hell.  "  The  drunkard  shall  not  possess  the  kingdom  oi 
God."  . 

There  is  nothing  more  pleasing  to  God  than  to  be  merci 
ful  and  to  spare.  Therefore  the  greatest  injury  that  an) 
man  can  offer  to  God  is  to  tie  up  His  hands  and  to  obligt 
Him  to  refuse  the  exercise  of  His  mercy— to  tell  the  Al 
mighty  God  that  He  must  not,  nay,  that  He  cannot,  b( 
merciful.  There  is  only  one  sin  and  one  sinner  alone  thai 


126     THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONS TER—DR UNKENNESS. 

can  do  it.  That  one  sin  is  drunkenness  ;  that  one  sinner  is 
the  drunkard  :  the  only  man  that  has  the  omnipotence  ef 
sin,  the  infernal  power  to  tie  up  the  hands  of  God,  to  oblige 
that  God  to  refuse  him  mercy.  No  matter  what  sin  a  man 
commits,  if,  in  the  very  act  of  committing  it,  the  Almighty 
God  strikes  him,  one  moment  is  enough  to  make  an  act  <>f 
contrition,  to  shed  one  tear  of  sorrow,  and  to  save  the  soul. 
The  murderer,  even  though  expiring,  his  hands  reddened 
with  the  blood  of  his  victim,  can  send  forth  one  cry  for 
mercy,  and  in  that  cry  be  saved.  The  robber,  stricken  down 
in  the  very  midst  of  his  misdeeds,  can  cry  for  mercy  on  his 
soul.  The  impure  man,  even  while  he  is  revelling  in  his 
impurity,  if  he  feel  the  chilly  hand  of  death  laid  upon  him, 
and  cry  out,  "God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner!"  in  that 
cry  may  be  saved.  The  drunkard  alone — alone  amongst  all 
sinners — lies  there  dying  in  his  drunkenness.  If  all  the 
priests  and  all  the  bishops  in  the  Church  of  God  were  there, 
they  could  not  give  that  man  pardon  or  absolution  of  his 
sine,  because  he  is  incapable  of  it — because  he  is  not  a  man  ! 
Sacraments  are  for  men,  let  them  be  ever  so  sinful — pro 
vided  that  they  be  men.  One  might  as  well  absolve  the 
four-footed  beast  as  lift  a  priestly  hand  over  the  drunkard. 
If  the  Pope  of  Rome  were  with  him,  what  could  he  do  for 
him  while  in  such  a  state  ?  The  one  sin  that  puts  a  man 
outside  the  pale  of  God's  mercy  is  drunkenness.  Long  as 
that  arm  of  God  is,  it  is  not  long  enough  to  touch  with 
a  merciful  hand  the  sinner  who  is  in  the  act  of  drunken 
ness. 

What  greater  injury  can  a  man  offer  to  God  than  to 
say  to  Him  :  "  Lord,  you  may  be  just.  I  don't  know  that 
you  don't  wish  to  exercise  your  justice,  but  you  may. 
You  may  be  omnipotent ;  you  may  have  every  attribute. 
But  there  is  one  that  you  must  not  have,  and  must  not  ex 
ercise  in  my  regard  ;  I  put  it  out  of  your  power;  and  that 
is  the  attribute  that  you  love  the  most  of  all — the  attribute 


THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS.    127 

of  mercy  " ;  for  the  Father  in  Heaven  sees  in  the  drunkard 
his  worst  and  most  terrible  enemy. 

There  lived  not  many  years  ago,  in  an  obscure  part  of  a 
certain  city,  a  .poor  family.  They  were  poor,  for  their 
father  was  a  drunkard.  He  was  a  good  workman,  and 
had  once  been  a  kind  father  and  a  good  husband.  But  he 
became  acquainted  with  bad  companions,  who  led  him  to 
the  bar-room.  From  that  time  forth  he  became  an  altered 
man.  He  no  longer  frequented  Mass  or  Confession.  His 
chief  place  of  resort  was  the  public-house.  He  was  often 
out  of  employment  by  reason  of  his  drunkenness,  and  when 
he  was  in  want  of  money  he  sold  the  furniture,  sold  even 
the  very  clothes  of  his  wife  and  children,  in  order  to  buy 
liquor.  His  poor  children  were  in  rags,  and  they  would  have 
starved  had  not  the  eldest  boy,  named  Willie,  managed  to 
work  for  them.  Many  and  many  a  time  the  poor  wife,  on 
her  knees,  begged  her  unhappy  husband  to  give  up  the 
public-house.  But  the  only  answer  she  got  was  a  bitter 
curse  or  a  hard  blow.  Once,  when  this  unhappy  man  came 
home  drunk  as  usual,  he  was  in  a  violent  passion,  and 
stabbed  his  son  Willie.  The  boy  recovered,  but  he  had  to 
work  very  hard  in  an  iron  foundry,  and  within  a  year  after 
his  drunken  father  had  stabbed  him  he  sickened  and  died. 
The  wretched  man  still  continued  to  drink,  and  to  ruin 
himself  and  his  family.  God  often  warned  him.  God 
waited  and  waited,  expecting  that  he  would  do  penance  ; 
but  the  unhappy  drunkard  heeded  neither  the  voice  of  man 
nor  the  voice  of  God.  His  punishment  came  at  last.  He 
lived  a  drunkard's  life,  he  must  die  a  drunkard's  death. 
In  a  miserable  garret,  on  the  third  story,  in  one  of  the  poor 
est  parts  of  the  city,  his  poor  wife  was  kneeling  and  praying 
for  her  husband.  It  was  just  midnight,  and  well  he  needed 
her  prayers.  Midnight  passed,  and  lie  came  home  drunk 
again.  His  head  was  bleeding,  and  his  face  was  swollen. 
He  had  been  fighting  with  his  wicked  companions.  When 


l#8     THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS. 

he  came  into  the  room  and  saw  that  his  wife  had  been  wait 
ing  for  him,  he  said  roughly  to  her :  "  Why  are  you  sitting 
up  and  wasting  the  candle  ?  I  suppose  you  want  to  tell  the 
neighbors  about  me.  If  you  do  not  go  to  bed  instantly,  I'll 
kill  you."  The  poor  wife  was  terrified,  but  she  took  cour 
age,  and  said  kindly  :  "  You  are  hurt,  my  dear.  I  will  get 
some  vinegar  and  bathe  your  face  with  it."  The  drunkard 
grew  furious,  and,  swearing  a  terrible  oath,  said:  "  If  you 
don't  get  out  of  my  sight,  I  will  murder  you."  The  pool- 
woman  was  faint  and  \veary  from  hunger  and  long  watching, 
and  overcome  by  weakness  and  terror,  fell  back  fainting  on 
the  floor.  The  drunken  man  stood  over  her,  and  his  face 
glared  like  the  face  of  a  demon.  He  howled  like  a  wild 
beast,  and  sprang  upon  his  wife,  kicked  her  with  his  heavy 
shoes,  and  stamped  upon  her.  The  neighbors  heard  the 
noise,  but  they  feared  to  enter,  for  they  knew  what  sort  of 
a  drunkard  he  was.  They  then  heard  him  go  down-stairs, 
open  the  door,  and  walk  away.  On  entering  the  room  they 
found  the  poor  woman  lying  on  the  floor  senseless.  Blood 
was  flowing  profusely  from  her  mouth  and  nostrils.  The 
priest  was  sent  for  in  haste,  and  when  he  came  he  found 
her  dying.  She  had  lived  a  good  life,  had  gone  regularly  to 
the  sacraments ;  she  had  borne  patiently,  for  the  love  of 
Jesus,  all  the  cruel  treatment  of  her  husband,  and  now  that 
she  was  dying  of  that  ill-treatment  no  complaint  passed  her 
lips.  She  forgave  her  husband  ;  she  prayed  for  him  with 
her  dying  breath.  She  received  the  sacraments,  and  then 
died  in  peace.  The  following  night  a  good  woman  was  sit 
ting  up,  watching  by  the  dead  body,  and  praying  for  the 
departed  soul.  It  was  already  late  in  the  night— about 
eleven  o'clock.  Suddenly  she  heard  the  tramp  of  footsteps 
coming  up-stairs.  She  listened;  the  footsteps  came  on— 
on,  stopped  a  little  way  from  the  door,  then  came  close  to 
the  door,  and  stopped  again.  At  last  the  latch  was  lifted, 
the  door  was  opened  a  little,  and  a  horrible  face  appeared. 


THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS.    129 

It  was  the  face  of  the  murderer.  The  woman  was  so  terri 
fied,  she  could  neither  speak  nor  scream.  The  eyes  of  the 
murderer  rolled  about  and  wandered  over  the  room,  as  if 
in  search  of  something.  At  last  he  looked  in  a  friendly 
manner  at  the  woman.  "  Woman,"  cried  he  hoarsely,  "tell 
me,  where  is  my  wife  ?  "  As  he  said  these  words,  he  strode 
into  the  room,  and  his  heavy  footsteps  resounded  on  the 
wooden  floor.  The  woman's  fright  passed  away  ;  she  arose, 
and,  pointing  sternly  to  the  dead  body  of  his  wife  lying  on 
the  bed,  said  :  "  There,  drunkard,  there  lies  the  corpse  of 
your  murdered  wife.''  The  drunkard  went  to  the  bedside, 
and  bent  for  a  moment  over  the  dead  body.  Then  in  a 
wild  agony  he  threw  up  his  hands  and  cried  aloud :  "  My 
God  !  she  is  dead  !  she  is  dead  !  What  have  I  done?"  He 
screamed  aloud,  and  those  who  heard  that  scream  will  not 
forget  it  to  their  dying  day.  He  clinched  his  hands,  his 
lips  parted  so  that  all  his  teeth  could  be  seen,  a  deadly  pale 
ness  overspread  his  face,  and  he  fell  heavily  on  the  floor. 
The  woman  screamed  for  help.  The  neighbors  rushed  in  ; 
they  lifted  up  the  wretched  man,  but  he  had  lost  his  reason, 
and  raved  like  a  madman. 

The  priest  was  sent  for,  and  when  he  qame  he  found  the 
drunkard  stretched  on  a  bed  from  which  the  dead  body  of 
his  wife  had  been  removed.  Six  strong  men  were  holding 
him  down,  hanging  with  their  whole  weight  on  his  limbs. 
From  time  to  time  he  started  up  and  shook  off  these  strong 
men  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  children.  The  large  iron 
door-key  was  put  betwixt  his  teeth,  that  he  might  not  bite 
off  his  tongue  ;  and  it  was  horrible  to  hear  the  grating 
sound  of  his  teeth  grinding  the  iron  key.  The  priest  had 
to  leave,  as  he  could  do  nothing  for  the  unhappy  man.  Next 
day  the  priest  came  again.  The  drunkard  was  terribly 
changed.  His  flesh  was  dried  up,  and  his  skin  parched  by 
a  burning  fever.  His  arms  were  pinioned ;  for  it  was  dan 
gerous  to  let  him  loose.  His  lips  werp  withered  and  cover- 


130     THE  PRODIGAL  A  MOBSTER — DRUNKENNESS. 

ed  with  a  brown  crust.  There  was  a  dark  ring  around  each 
of  his  eyes,  and  his  eye-balls  were  red  and  blood-shot.  All 
those  who  saw  him  trembled  at  the  sight ;  for  he  was  in 
despair.  He  had  indeed  recovered  his  senses,  but  it  waa 
only  to  realize  the  horror  of  his  unhappy  state.  The  priest 
approached  the  bedside  and  spoke  kindly  and  gently  to  the 
imluippy  man.  "My  man,"  he  said,  "you  are  now  dying 
You  will  soon  appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Repent  of  your  sins  while  you  have  yet  time." 
The  drunkard  glared  at  the  priest  with  fiery  eyes.  "  What ! " 
cried  lie,  "repent  ?  Is  it  to  me  you  talk  of  repentance  ? 
No,  no,  no  ;  there  is  no  repentance  for  me  !  I  am  damned  ! 
I  am  damned  for  ever  !  "  The  priest  encouraged  him  and 
told  him  to  hope  in  the  mercy  of  God.  "No,  no,"  cried 
the  unhappy  drunkard,  "  there  is  no  hope,  no  mercy,  for  me. 
All  last  night  I  saw  my  murdered  wife  and  boy  standing  by 
this  bed  and  threatening  me.  Sometimes  they  pointed 
with  their  shadowy  fingers  to  the  corner  of  the  room,  and 
thu'e  I  saw  the  damned  spirits  of  hell  mocking  me.  And 
then  these  hellish  spirits  would  crowd  around  my  bed  and 
ben*. I  their  horrid  faces  over  me ;  I  was  tied,  and  could  not 
get  away  from  them.  Then  they  would  grin  and  laugh  at  me, 
and  tell  me  how  they  would  meet  me  to-night — to-night ! — 
in  hell.  No,  no,  there  is  no  mercy  for  me ;  it  is  too  late,  too 
late."  The  good  priest  tried  once  more  to  encourage  the  un 
happy  man.  He  told  him  how  the  blessed  Jesus  had  died  to 
save  him.  He  told  him  how  good  and  kind  a  mother  Mary  is  ; 
how  she  obtains  pardon  even  for  the  most  abandoned  sinner. 
But  he  spoke  to  a  heart  of  stone  ;  the  drunkard  heeded  not 
his  words.  The  dying  man  made  no  confession.  He  said  that 
he  could  not,  that  he  would  not,  repent.  His  blasphemies 
vere  too  horrible  to  be  told.  It  seemed  as  if  the  very  devil 
himself  was  speaking  by  his  tongue.  Sometimes  he  would 
cal]  on  those  present  to  hide  him  from  his  wife  and  boy,  whose 
ghosts,  he  said,  were  haunting  him.  Then  he  would  sing  a 


THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER  —  JJHU^KKKA'ESS.     131 


few  snatches  of  an  immodest  soiig,  and  talk  as  if  he  was 
again  in  the  midst  of  his  bad  companions.  Then  again  he 
would  roar  out  in  a  fearful  agony,  as  only  a  sinner  dying  in 
despair  can  shout.  "  Oh  !"  he  would  cry  wildly,  "do  you 
not  see  the  devils  coming  around  my  bed  ?  Ah  !  they  want 
to  take  my  soul  to  hell.  See  !  see  !  the  blue  flames  of  hell 
are  rising  up  around  me." 

It  was  just  midnight.  The  hour  of  retribution  had  come. 
The  drunkard  was  never  more  to  see  the  dawn  of  morning. 
The  window  was  open,  and  the  heavy  bell  could  be  heard 
through  the  still  night-air  ;  it  struck  the  hour  of  twelve. 
Then  the  wretched  man  gave  a  long  and  terrible  howl,  and 
died.  He  died  and  passed  from  the  darkness  of  midnight 
to  the  never-ending  darkness  of  hell.  Thus  dies  the  drunk 
ard,  and  thus  will  every  drunkard  die  who  perseveres  in 
his  sin;  for  the  Holy  Ghost  has  said  :  "  The  drunkard  shall 
not  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven."* 

Go  now,  and  drink;  call  it  a  friendly  glass.  Yes,  you  will 
gain  a  friend  and  lose  your  God.  Go  now,  and  drink  ;  say 
that  you  drink  only  because  of  your  weak  health,  because 
of  your  hard  work.  Go  and  buy  your  drink  ;  bring  on  disease 
and  an  untimely  death.  Ask  the  doctors,  the  chemists,  and 
they  will  tell  you  how  much  deadly  poison  you  continually 
drink  in  with  your  liquor.  Drink  and  say  that  you  meant 
MO  harm  ;  you  only  wished  to  be  a  little  merry  ;  that  you 
wished  to  drown  your  grief  and  trouble.  Drink  now  of  the 
intoxicating  cup,  and  hereafter  you  shall  drink  of  the  wine 
of  the  wrath  of  God  ;  you  shall  drink  of  fire  and  brim 
stone  ;  you  shall  drink  of  the  poison  of  serpents  and  the 
gall  of  dragons. 

Go  now,  and  call  your  friends  around  the  innocent  babe 

that  has  just  been  baptized;  go  and  call  your   neighbors 

round  the   corpse   of  your  dead  relative,  and  drink—  yes, 

drink  your  fill  ;  but  with  your  liquor  drink  in  the  priest'? 

*  1  Cor.  vi.  10. 


132     THE  PRODIUAI,  A  MiiNsn'tcR  —  DRTNKENNESS. 


tears,  drink  in  the  widow's  and  the  orphan's  curse,  drink  in 
the  wrath  of  your  offended  God.  Go,  season  and  soak  youi 
bodies  with  liquor,  and  be  assured  that  they  will  burn  all 
the  more  fiercely  for  it  in  the  eternal  flames  of  hell. 

And  you  who  sell  liquor  to  drunkards  —  you  whose 
saloon  is  the  vestibule  of  hell  —  you  who  are  in  it  the  devil's 
recruiting  sergeant  —  you  who  encourage  and  fatten  upon 
this  accursed  crime,  stand  up  now  in  the  presence  of  your 
Eternal  Judge,  and  say,  if  you  dare,  "  Their  blood  be  upon 
us  and  upon  our  children."  Go  home  now,  and  count  all 
your  blood-money  you  have  received  for  your  liquor  ;  count 
it  well,  for  it  is  the  price  of  immortal  souls,  purchased  by 
the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ.  Count  it  all  ;  for  it  is  moistened 
by  the  tears  of  the  heart-broken  wife  and  her  halt'  starved 
children.  Hoard  it  with  care  ;  for  every  cent  of  it  will 
surely  bring  upon  you  and  your  family  the  widow's  and  the 
orphan's  curse  —  the  curse  of  the  avenging  God. 

And  you  who  are  yet  free  from  this  accursed  vice,  thank 
God,  and  beware  lest  you  be  led  into  it  by  degrees.  It  is  far 
easier  for  you  to  avoid  falling  into  this  vice  than  it  is  to 
abandon  it  after  having  once  contracted  it.  If  you  have 
just  begun  to  contract  the  sinful  habit  of  drunkenness  —  if 
you  are  already  its  slave  —  stop  now,  and  pause  where  you 
are.  Listen  to  the  voice  of  your  poor  wife,  whom  you  have 
so  often  ill-treated.  Listen  to  the  cries  of  your  poor  chil 
dren,  whom  you  havo  reduced  to  beggary  and  shame. 
Listen  to  the  voice  of  the  priest  of  God.  who  conjures 
you,  for  the  love  'of  God,  for  the  love  of  your  immortal 
soul,  to  give  up  drinking.  Listen  to  the  warning  voice  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  who  tells  yon  that  the  drunkard  shall  not 
enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Listen  to  the  pleading  voice 
of  your  Saviour,  Jesus  Christ.  Do  not  ruin  that  soul  for 
which  Jesus  Christ  has  died.  Three-and  -thirty  years  did 
Jesus  fast  and  labor  in  order  to  gain  your  soul.  He  suffered 
hunger  and  thirst  ;  He  bore  patiently  the  burning  thirst 


THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS.     133 

that  tormented  Him  on  the  cross ;  He  tasted  the  vinegar 
and  gall,  in  order  to  atone  for  your  intemperance.  Will  you, 
then,  ruin  that  soul  for  which  Jesus  suffered  so  much  ? 
Will  you  trample  on  the  precious  blood  of  Jesus?  Will 
you  render  all  his  sufferings  useless  ?  Ah  !  save  yourself, 
while  you  have  yet  time,  from  temporal  as  well  as  eternal 
misery.  You  have  sinned,  and  you  must  do  penance.  Give 
up  drinking,  and  God  will  accept  that  as  a  penance.  You 
have  sinned  grievously.  You  have  merited  the  never-end 
ing  torments  of  hell.  Give  up  drink,  then.  It  may  in 
deed  be  hard  and  painful ;  but  remember  the  miseries  of 
drunkenness — the  never-ending  torments  of  iioil  are  far  more 
painful.  The  longer  you  abstain  from  drink,  the  easier 
will  it  be  for  you  to  abandon  it  altogether  ;  and  the  peace 
of  conscience  you  will  enjoy,  the  blessings  of  God,  the 
prayers  of  your  family,  will  give  you  strength  enough 
to  resist  the  unhealthy  craving  for  liquor.  Pray  often  • 
approach  the  Sacraments  frequently.  Choose  a  good 
confessor,  and  follow  his  advice,  and  God  may  yet  pre 
serve  you  from  the  unutterable  torments  reserved  for  the 
drunkard. 

How  glorious  is  the  mission  of  the  temperance  society  ! 
The  members  of  this  society  have  raised  the  standard  in  de 
fiance  to  this  demon  that  is  destroying  the  whole  world. 
They  have  declared  that  their  very  names  shall  be  ei.rollc'l 
as  a  monument  against  the  vice  of  drunkenness.  They 
have  thereby  asserted  the  glory  of  God  in  His  image-  --mau. 
The  glory  of  humanity  is  restored  by  the  angel  of  bobriety 
and  temperance ;  the  glory  of  Christ  restored  from  the  dis 
honor  which  is  put  upon  Him  by  the  drunkard  amongst 
all  other  sinners  ;  the  glory  of  the  Christian  woman  re 
trieved  and  honored,  as  every  year  adds  a  new,  mellowing 
grace  to  the  declining  beauty  which  passes  away  with  youth  ; 
the  glory  of  the  family,  in  which  the  rue  Christian  son  is 
ihe  reflection  of  the  virtues  of  his  true  and  Christian  father  ; 


L34     THE  PRODIGAL  A  MONSTER — DRUNKENNESS, 

finally,  the  glory  of  souls,  and  the  assurance  of  a  holy  life 
and  a  happy  death — all  this  is  involved  in  the  profession 
which  they  make  to  be  the  apostles  and  the  silent  but  elo 
quent  propagators  of  this  holy  virtue — temperance. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   FAR   COUNTEY — INFIDELITY. 

OUR  future  and  true  home  is  heaven.  Oh!  how  full  of 
joy  and  sweetness  is  that  one  word  heaven,  paradise  ! 
To  the  ear  of  the  exile  there  is  nothing  sweeter  than  the 
name  of  home.  What  wonder,  then,  that  the  name  of 
heaven  should  be  so  full  of  sweetness,  since  it  is  our  true 
home,  our  home  for  ever?  When  Blessed  Egidio  heard  any 
one  speak  of  heaven,  he  was  so  overcome  with  joy  that  he 
was  lifted  up  into  the  air  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight. 

The  first  step  towards  heaven  is  the  knowledge'  of  God. 
"For  he  that  cometh  to  God  must  believe  that  He  is,  and 
is  a  rewarder  of  those  that  seek  Him."  *  "And  this  is  life 
everlasting,"  says  our  dear  Saviour,  "  that  they  may  know 
Thee,  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ,  whom  Thou  hast 
sent."  f  "Without  this  faith  it  is  impossible  to  please 
God."  J  But  as  without  this  faith  man  cannot  please  God 
and  be  saved,  his  Creator  has  made  faith  easy  for  him. 

Man  is  born  a  believing  creature,  and  cannot,  if  he  would, 
destroy  altogether  this  noble  attribute  of  his  nature.  If  he 
is  not  taught,  and  will  not  accept,  a  belief  in  the  living  and 
uncreated  God,  he  will  create  and  worship  some  other  god 
in  His  stead.  He  cannot  rest  on  pure  negation.  There 
never  has  been  a  real,  absolute  unbeliever.  All  the  so- 
called  unbelievers  are  either  knaves  or  idiots.  All  the  Gen 
tile  nations  of  the  past  have  been  religious  people ;  all  the 
pagan  powers  of  the  present  are  also  believers.  There  never 
has  been  a  nation  without  faith,  without  an  altar,  without 

"Heb.  xi.  6.  *Johnxvii.  3.  %  Heb.  xi.  6. 

185 


1 3  6  THE  FAR  Co  UNTR  Y—  INFIDELITY. 

a  sacrifice.  Man  can  never,  even  for  a  single  instant,  escape 
the  all-seeing  eye  of  God  or  avoid  the  obligations  of  duty 
imposed  on  him  by  his  Creator.  The  pantheists  of  ancient 
as  well  as  of  modern  times  recognize  this  fact,  although  they 
do  not  discharge  their  religious  obligations  conformably  to 
the  divine  will,  but  make  to  themselves  other  gods  instead. 
The  belief  in  the  existence  of  God  among  men  in  some  sensi 
ble  form  seems  to  be  a  want  of  the  human  heart.  To  satisfy 
this  craving  after  the  Eoal  Presence  of  God,  men  made  use 
of  unholy  means.  Blinded  by  their  passions,  they  fell  into 
idolatry,  and,  instead  of  raising  themselves  to  the  true  and 
pure  God,  they  foolishly  worshipped  what  they  deemed  the 
divine  Presence  in  stones,  plants,  and  animals.  It  was  God 
Himself  who  planted  in  the  human  heart  the  desire  for  the 
Real  Presence,  and  God  Himself  also  found  means  to  satisfy 
this  desire.  He  first  revealed  Himself  to  man  by  creation, 
which  is  a  continual  revelation  of  His  Presence,  although 

*  O 

He  is  hidden  therein.  The  good  and  pure  indeed  behold 
God  in  creation.  They  see  His  power  in  the  storm,  in  the 
cataract,  in  the  earthquake.  They  see  His  wisdom  in  the 
laws  that  govern  the  boundless  universe,  His  beauty  in  the 
flower,  in  the  sunbeam,  and  in  the  many-tinted  rainbow. 
But  the  wicked  and  impure  use  this  very  creation  only  to 
outrage  and  blaspheme  the  Creator. 

God,  then,  made  use  of  a  more  perfect  means  to  reveal  to 
man  His  divine  Presence.  This  was  His  Word.  If  a  friend 
visits  us  at  night,  and  finds  us  sitting  in  the  dark,  he  speaks, 
he  makes  use  of  words  to  show  that  he  is  really  present.  In 
like  manner  God,  wishing  to  reveal  His  Real  Presence  to 
man,  sitting  in  the  darkness  of  this  life,  has  addressed  him 
in  words..  This  is  the  very  first  article  of  faith.  God  spoke 
to  our  first  parents  in  the  garden  of  Paradise.  He  spoke 
to  the  patriarchs,  to  the  prophets,  and  finally,  as  St.  Paul 
assures  us,  He  has  spoken  for  the  last  time  by  His  only- 
begotten  Son! 


THE  FAR  COUNTRY— INFIDELITY.  137 

But  merely  to  hear  the  voice  of  a  friend  is  not  enough  ; 
the  heart  longs  for  something  more  ;  the  eyes  yearn  to  look 
upon  Him.  God  knows  this  want  of  the  human  heart,  and 
He  has  satisfied  it  also.  The  prophets  have  besought  Him 
again  and  again  to  show  Himself.  "Show  us  Thy  face,  0 
Lord!  and  we  shall  be  saved."  This,  too,  was  the  ardent 
prayer  of  Moses:  "0  Lord  !  show  me  thy  glory."* 

In  the  Old  Law  God  satisfied  this  desire  by  manifesting 
His  Real  Presence  to  tho  Israelites  under  the  form  of  a 
cloud  and  a  pillar  of  fire.  He  next  commanded  an  ark  or 
tabernacle  to  be  made,  and  there  He  manifested  His  Eeal 
Presence  by  a  peculiar,  supernatural  light,  called  the  She- 
kinah.  But  all  this  did  not  satisfy  either  man's  heart  or 
God's  unbounded  love.  If  we  love  a  person  dearly,  it  will 
not  satisfy  us  to  hear  his  voice  or  to  see  him  in  disguise;  we 
wish  to  behold  him  face  to  face.  God  gratified  even  this 
desire.  He  had  commanded  a  tabernacle  of  wood  to  be 
made  by  the  hand  of  man,  and  that  tabernacle  he  chose  for 
his  dwelling-place.  But  now  with  His  own  divine  hands 
He  made  a  living  tabernacle,  holy  and  spotless — the  Immac 
ulate  Virgin  Mary ;  and  in  that  tabernacle  He  took  up  His 
abode.  There  He  formed  for  Himself  a  human  body  and 
soul.  Thence  He  came  forth  to  live  among  men  and  to  be 
as  one  of  them. 

In  becoming  man  God  revealed  His  Eeal  Presence  to  all 
our  senses.  Men  saw  God,  heard  God,  even  touched  God. 
He  had  already  revealed  His  Eeal  Presence  to  man's  reason 
in  the  creation,  but  man  had  forgotten  Him.  He  had  re 
vealed  His  Eeal  Presence  by  His  word,  and  man  refused  to 
listen  to  Him.  He  had  shown  himself  face  to  face  to  man, 
and  man  crucified  Him.  There  was  now  but  one  means  left 
for  God  to  reveal  His  Eeal  Presence,  and  that  was  by  faith, 
lie  reveals  His  Presence  in  a  far  more  perfect  manner.  He 
shows  himself  to  the  eyes  of  faith — to  the  believing  soul. 
*  Exod.  xxxiii.  18. 


138  THE  FAR  COUNTRY— INFIDELITY. 

God  lias  done  all  that  lie  could  to  make  men  believe  in  Him 
and  in  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  our  Redeemer,  whom  He  sent 
to  teach  us  the  way  of  salvation.  If  man  be  born  a  believ 
ing  creature,  how  does  it  happen  that  we  see  this  faith  in 
God,  in  Jesus  Christ,  in  everlasting  rewards  and  punish 
ments,  disappear  every  day  more  and  more  ?  How  many 
millions  of  men  live  in  America  who  profess  no  religion  at 
all  !  Infidelity  and  indifference  to  all  religion  are  the  char 
acteristic  traits  of  our  age.  Men  boast  of  the  progress,  of 
the  inventions,  of  the  discoveries  of  our  age;  but  all  this 
vaunted  progress  is  only  material.  In  religion,  in  all  that  is 
high  and  noble  and  holy,  they  have  made  no  progress;  they 
are  even  far  behind,  their  forefathers.  They  have  established 
lines  of  communication  with  the  most  distant  nations  of 
the  earth,  but  they  have  lost  the  blessed  communion  with 
heaven.  They  boast  that  they  have  almost  annihilated  tim«j 
and  space,  but  they  have  not  succeeded  in  annihilating  sin 
and  crime  in  their  midst.  Their  schools  and  academies, 
their  colleges  and  universities,  impart  the  most  thorough 
instruction  in  every  branch  of  human  knowledge ;  but  the 
only  true  knowledge — the  knowledge  of  God  and  of  His 
holy  law — they  utterly  ignore.  How  are  we  to  account  for 
this  universal  unbelief  ?  What  are  the  causes  of  infidelity? 
The  causes  that  lead  to  infidelity  are  various.  They  are 
corruption  of  the  heart,  neglect  of  prayer,  ignorance  of  the 
mind,  private  judgment  in  matters  of  faith,  and  godless 
education.  Before  the  prodigal  son  left  his  father's  house 
our  Lord  said  that  "he  asked  for  the  portion  of  goods  which 
should  come  to  him."  We  are  thus  informed  of  the  desire 
which  was  in  the  prodigal's  mind  before  he  quitted  his 
father's  roof  ;  his  aim  was  to  spend  those  goods  without  re 
straint  or  remonstrance.  For  the  same  purpose,  also,  he 
took  these  goods  "into  a  far  country,"  where  he  would  no 
longer  be  under  his  father's  eye.  Thus  it  is  with  every  sin 
ner.  When  his  passions  begin  to  gain  a  sway  over  him,  he 


THE  FAR  COUNTRY— INFIDELITY.  139 

invents  maxims  and  principles  of  conduct,  in  order  that  he 
may  rid  himself  of  the  reproaches  of  the  law  of  God — "  put 
ting  for  the  commandments  of  God  the  traditions  of  men  " 
—and  by  giving  a  less  offensive  name  to  his  sin  he  stills  the 
voice  of  conscience  within  him.  The  next  step  is  to  "go 
into  a  far  country  " — into  the  farthest  possible.  He  says 
that  there  is  no  God.  Corruption  of  the  heart  or  slavery  of 
the  passions  is  the  very  first  cause,  the  prolific  mother,  of 
infidelity. 

You  will  find  men  who  deny  the  immortality  of  the  soul, 
who  deny  the  eternity  of  hell,  who  deny  the  infallibility  of 
the  Pope.'  You  will  find  men  who  deny  the  divine  origin 
of  confession ;  but  why  ?  It  is  because  these  wholesome 
truths  put  a  check  to  their  passions.  They  cannot  believe 
in  these  truths  and  at  the  same  time  gratify  their  criminal 
desires.  "  It  is  only  the  fool,  the  impious  man,  that  says 
in  his  heart  there  is  no  God."  *  An  honest,  virtuous  man 
would  never  think  of  doubting  or  contradicting  these 
sacred  truths. 

In  spite  of  its  innate  pride,  the  mind  is  the  slave  of  the 
heart.  If  the  heart  soars  to  heaven  on  the  wings  of  divine 
love,  the  mind,  too,  rises  with  it.  But  if  the  heart  is  buried 
in  the  mire  of  filthy  passions,  it  soon  exhales  dark,  fetid 
vapors,  which  obscure  the  intellect.  The  infidel's  reason  is 
the  dupe  of  his  heart. 

There  is  a  man  who  was  once  a  good  Catholic,  who  used 
formerly  to  go  regularly  to  Mass  and  to  confession.  He  is 
now  an  infidel  ;  goes  no  longer  to  confession.  But  why  ? 
Has  he  become  more  enlightened  ?  Has  he  received  some 
new  knowledge  ?  The  only  new  knowledge  he  has  received  is 
the  sad  knowledge  of  sin.  He  believed  as  long  as  he  was  vir 
tuous.  He  began  to  doubt  only  when  he  began  to  be  immoral ; 
he  became  an  infidel  only  when  he  became  a  libertine.  The 
history  of  his  life  is  soon  told.  Wishing  to  gratify  his  pas- 

*  Ps.  3dii  L 


i40  THE  FAR  Uoi:.\rity — L\ FIDELITY. 

sions  without  restraint  and  without  remorse,  he  tried  to  rid 
himself  of  a  religion  which  would  have  troubled  him  in  the 
midst  of  his  unlawful  pleasures. 

His  face  tells  the  story.  The  sacred  nobility  of  the  free 
man  is  there  no  longer.  He  has  become  a  member  of  a  se 
cret  society.  The  dark,  oath-bound  seal  of  hell  is  on  his  lips. 
His  hands  are  defiled  by  injustice.  He  has  grown  rich,  but 
'his  riches  are  accursed.  His  heart  is  a  slave  to  the  most 
shameful  passions.  He  wishes  to  gratify  his  wicked  desires 
without  shame,  without  remorse.  In  order  to  do  this  he  tries 
to  get  rid  of  religion.  The  solemn  form  of  religion  appears 
in  the  midst  of  his  sinful  revelry  like  the  hand  on  the  wall, 
writing  in  letters  of  fire  the  dread  sentence  of  his  damna 
tion.  His  conscience  tells  him  that  there  is  a  hell  to  punish 
his  crimes,  and  he  tries  to  stifle  the  voice  of  his  conscience, 
and  says  "  There  is  no  hell."  The  voice  of  his  conscience 
reproaches  him  and  tells  him  that  there  is  a  just  God,  who 
will  punish  him  for  his  sins;  and.  he  stifles  the  voice  of  his 
conscience,  and  says  :  "There  is  no  God."  His  conscience 
says  to  him :  "  Ha  !  there  is  a  strict  and  terrible  judgment 
that  awaits  you  after  death,"  and  lie  stifles  the  voice  of  his 
conscience,  and  says:  "There  is  no  hereafter ;  it  is  all  over 
after  death. "  He  tries  to  prove  to  himself  and  to  others 
that  man  is  a  brute,  because  he  wishes  to  live  like  a  brute. 
He  hates  religion,  he  hates  the  priest,  he  hates  the  Church, 
he  hates  the  Sacraments,  he  hates  everything  that  reminds 
him  of  God,  because  he  knows  that  by  his  crimes  he  has 
made  himself  an  enemy  of  God.  The  unhappy  man  says, 
"  There  is  no  hell,"  and  whithersoever  he  goes  he  carries 
hell  in  his  heart.  In  the  silence  of  the  night,  when  others 
are  sleeping  around  him,  he  cannot  sleep.  His  conscience 
tortures  him.  It  asks  him :  "Were  you  to  die  in  this  state 
this  night,  what  would  become  of  you  ?  It  is  a  terrible 
thing  to  fall  unprepared  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God  ! 
Think  of  eternity  !  eternity  !  eternity  !  Think  of  the  worm 


Tin-:  FA  K  Co  UNTR  Y— INFIDELITY.  \  4 1 

that  never  dies,  and  the  fire  th.it  never  quenches  ! "  No 
wonder  that  men  sometimes  commit  suicide.  They  can 
not  bear  the  remorse  of  conscience,  and  so  they  try  to  find 
rest  in  death.  The  hell  of  the  infidel  begins  even  in  this 
world,  and  it  continues  throughout  all  eternity  in  the  next. 
There  lived  in  France  a  certain  philosopher,  an  infidel, 
named  Banguer.  When  he  was  lying  on  his  death-bed,  he 
sent  for  the  priest,  the  Kev.  Father  La  Berthonie,  to  assist 
him  in  his  last  moments.  The  priest  instructed  him  at 
great  length  in  order  to  rouse  his  faith.  "Hasten  to  the 
end,  Rev.  Father,"  said  the  philosopher  ;  "  for  it  is  my  heart 
rather  than  my  mind  that  wants  to  be  healed ;  I  was  an  un 
believer  only  because  1  was  bad. " 

One  day  a  Lieutenant-Gencral  revealed  his  doubts  on 
religion  to  one  of  his  officers  in  whom  he  placed  great  con 
fidence.  This  officer  advised  him  to  confer  with  Father 
Neuville  and  Father  Renaud.  But  notwithstanding  the 
solidity  of  their  arguments,  he  could  not  arrive  at  convic 
tion.  Hereupon  the  officer  prevailed  on  him  to  visit  an 
ecclesiastic  whom  he  had  chosen  for  his  confessor.  The  Lieu 
tenant-General  called  upon  him  in  the  name  of  his  friend. 
He  told  him  what  had  brought  him,  and  the  fruitless  steps 
he  had  already  taken  to  dissipate  his  doubts.  "  What  could 
I  possibly  add,  sir,"  answered  the  priest,  "  to  the  arguments 
of  men  like  Fathers  Neuville  and  Renawd  ?  What  force  can 
their  arguments  receive  from  my  lips  ?  I  have  only  one  re 
course  ;  please  try  it.  Enter  into  my  oratory  ;  let  us  pray 
God  to  enlighten  your  understanding,  to  touch  your  heart, 
and  then  begin  by  making  your  confession."  "I,  sir,  when 
I  scarcely  believe  in  the  existence  of  God?"  "You  be 
lieve  in  Him,  and  in  religion  too,  far  more  than  you  think. 
Kneel  down,  make  the  sign  of  the  cross,  I  am  going  to  call 
to  your  mind  the  Confiteor,  and  to  put  to  you  the  necessary 
questions."  After  sundry  marks  of  astonishment  that 
seemed  but  too  well  founded,  after  many  repetitions  of  hig 


142  THE  FAR  COUNTRY— INFIDELITY. 

doubts,  and  even  of  his  infidelity,  after  many  objections 
and  difficulties,  the  Lieutenant-General  at  length  obeyed, 
and  answered  honestly  the  different  questions  of  the  priest. 
The  priest  went  back  with  him  to  the  time  of  his  first  trans 
gressions  ;  he  dwelt  at  some  length  on  the  disorders  that  en 
sued.  By  degrees  the  heart  of  the  penitent  opened  itself, 
his  voice  began  to  tremble,  and  tears  involuntarily  flowed 
from  his  eyes.  The  priest,  seeing  his  agitation,  ceased  ques 
tioning  him,  and,  giving  full  scope  to  all  the  ardor  of  his  zeal, 
he  exhorted  him  in  the  most  pathetic  and  touching  manner, 
and  thus  accomplished  what  his  interrogations  and  the  first 
avowals  made  to  him  had  begun.  "  0  father  !"  exclaimed 
the  penitent,  sobbing,  "you  have  followed  the  only  path 
that  could  have  conducted  you  to  my  heart !  I  am  a  wretch 
who  has  been  led  astray  by  his  passions  alone,  who  carried 
his  judge  in  the  hidden  recesses  of  his  conscience,  but  who 
stifled  that  judge's  voice,  who  dared  not  avow  his  crimes  to 
himself,  and  who  preferred  to  believe  nothing  rather  than 
be  obliged  to  live  well !  I  will  return  to-morrow,  and  I  will 
then  make  a  more  lengthy  confession."  And  he  did  so  with 
sentiments  of  the  most  lively  compunction  ;  he  died  some 
years  after,  in  the  practice  of  the  most  austere  penance  and 
of  a  truly  Christian  life.* 

The  second  cause  of  infidelity  is  the  neglect  of  prayer. 
This  was  pointed  out  many  centuries  ago  by  a  great  prophet. 
"The  impious,"  says  David — and  who  is  more  impious 
than  an  infidel? — "the  impious  are  corrupt,  and  they  be 
come  abominable  in  their  ways.  .  .  They  are  all  gone 
aside  ;  they  are  become  unprofitable  together;  there  is  none 
t hat  does  good,  no,  not  one.  .  .  .  Destruction  and  un- 
happi ness  are  in  their  ways."  u  Now  the  cause  of  all  this 
wickedness,"  continues  David,  "is -because  they  have  not 
called  upon  the  Lord."  God  is  the  light  of  our  under 
standing,  the  strength  of  our  will,  and  the  life  of  our 
*  DebUBsi,  N'ouveau  Mo  is  de  Marie,  148. 


THE  FAR  COUNTRY — INFIDELITY.  143 

heart.  The  more  we  neglect  to  pray  to  God,  the  more  we 
experience  darkness  in  our  understanding,  weakness  in  our 
will,  and  deadly  coldness  in  our  heart.  Our  passions,  the 
temptations  of  the  devil,  and  the  allurements  of  the  world, 
will  draw  us  headlong  from  one  abyss  of  wickedness  to  an 
other,  until  we  fall  into  the  deepest  of  all — into  infidelity, 
in  id  indifference  to  all  religion. 

The  third  cause  of  infidelity,  and  indifference  to  all  re 
ligion,  is  the  ignorance  of  the  mind.  Many  are  infidels 
because  they  never  received  any  instruction  in  religion. 
Among  these  are  some  who  are  more  guilty  than  others  ; 
namely,  those  who  do  not  wish  to  be  instructed  in  their  re 
ligious  duties,  in  order  that  they  may  more  easily  dispense 
themselves  with  the  obligations  of  complying  with  these 
duties.  Now  it  is  this  very  class  of  men  that  easily  gives 
ear  to  the  principles  of  infidelity,  because  these  principles 
are  more  pleasing  to  their  corrupt  nature  than  those  of  our 
holy  religion.  This  class  is  very  numerous  and  their  num 
ber  is  on  the  increase  every  day.  For,  not  having  any  re 
ligion  themselves,  nor  wishing  to  have  any,  what  wonder  if 
their  children  follow  their  example  ?  Such  as  the  tree  is, 
will  the  fruit  be.  A  Catholic  lady  of  New  York  asked  a 
little  child:  "How  many  gods  are  there,  and  who  made 
you  ?  "  The  child  could  not  answer  the  questions.  So  the 
Catholic  lady  said  to  the  child:  "Say,  'There  is  but  one 
God ' ;  say,  '  God  made  me.' "  When  the  mother  of  the 
child  heard  this  she  flew  into  a  passion,  and  said :  "  My 
child  shall  never  learn  such  a  thing ;  God  lias  nothing  to  do 
with  my  child."  Behold  how  infidel  mothers  bring  up  their 
children  ! 

There  are  others  who  became  infidels  because  they  were 
never  sufficiently  instructed  in  their  holy  religion.  There 
is  a  certain  class  of  parents  who  have  their  children  in 
structed  in  everything  but  their  religion.  They  allow 
them  to  grow  up  in  ignorance  of  everything  except  of  th« 


1 44  7 'HE  FAR  Co  UNTR  r—  INFIDELITY. 

means  by  which  they  may  make  money.  Now,  when  the 
time  draws  near  for  these  children  to  make  their  First  Com 
munion,  their  parents  will  take  them  to  the  priest  to  pre 
pare  them  for  this  holy  sacrament  in  a  week  or  two.  What 
can  children  learn  in  a  couple  of  weeks?  Certain  it  is  thai; 
what  they  learn  in  that  time  very  seldom  enters  their  hearts. 
Their  hearts  are  not  prepared  for  the  Word  of  God ;  they 
are  light-minded,  and  in  many  cases  corrupt,  and  what  they 
learn  is  learned  from  constraint.  No  sooner  are  they  free 
from  constraint  than  they  throw  their  religion  overboard  ; 
they  become  the  worst  kind  of  infidels  and  the  worst  ene 
mies  of  our  holy  religion. 

The  young  man  who  set  fire  to  St.  Augustine's  Church,  in 
Philadelphia,  Pa.,  was  a  Catholic,  and  he  gloried  in  being 
able  to  burn  his  name  out  of  the  baptismal  record.  Arch 
bishop  Spalding,  of  Baltimore,  asserted  oi.o  day  that  in  one 
body  of  Methodist  preachers  he  had  obsened  seven  or  eight 
who  were  the  children  of  Catholic  parents,  and  that  they 
were  the  smartest  preachers  among  them,  Hishop  England 
said  that  the  Catholic  Church  loses  more,  ii  this  country, 
by  apostasy  than  it  gains  by  conversions.  Th  i<s  is  verified  in 
these  children  what  God  has  said  throng! •  the  Prophet 
Isaias:  "Therefore  is  my  people  led  away  <-!'ptive  because 
they  had  not  knowledge."  (chap,  v  13). 

These  three  causes  of  infidelity  have  exited  from  the 
beginning  of  the  world.  But  about  three;  centuries  ago 
Protestantism  opened  a  very  wide  avenue  to  (he  same  end. 
Protestantism  introduced  the  principle  (hat.  "there  is  no 
iivinely-appointed  authority  to  teach  infallibly.  Let  every 
man  read  the  Bible  and  judge  for  himself." 

Upon  this  false  principle  they  even  boldly  denied  the  Re<il 
Presence  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament.  What 
more  natural  than  gradually  to  begin  to  deny  with  the  same 
boldness  almost  all  the  Gospel  truths?  Why  should  the 
one  who  does  not  care  for  Jesus  Christ  upon  the  altar  be 


COUNTRY—  L\FiDi:LrJT.  145 


expected  to  care  for  Jesus  Christ  in  heaven,  and  for  all  that 
Lie  has  taught  us?  Hence  it  is  that  what  they  may  call 
their  religion  and  religious  service  is  in  itself  neither  inviting 
nor  impressive  ;  it  has  nothing  in  it  to  stir  up  the  fountains 
of  feeling;  to  call  forth  the  music  and  poetry  of  the  soul  ; 
to  convey  salutary  instruction  or  to  awaken  lively  interest. 
It  possesses  no  trait  of  grandeur,  of  sublimity;  it  has  cer 
tainly  not  one  clement  of  poetry  or  pathos.  Generally  cold 
and  lifeless,  it  becomes  warm  only  by  a  violent  effort,  and 
then  it  runs  into  the  opposite  extreme  of  intemperate  ex 
citement  and  sentimeiitalism  ;  nay,  it  is  no  exaggeration  to 
say  that  religiousness  among  the  greater  part  of  Protestants 
in  our  day  and  country  seems  to  have  well-nigh  become  ex 
tinct.  They  seem  to  have  lost  all  spiritual  conceptions,  and 
no  longer  to  possess  any  spiritual  aspiration.  Lacking  as 
ihey  do  the  light,  the  warmth,  and  the  life-giving  power  of 
the  sun  of  the  Catholic  Church  —  the  holy  Mass,  the  Eeal 
Presence  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament  —  they 
seem  to  have  become,  or  to  be  near  becoming,  what  our 
world  would  be  if  there  were  no  sun  in  the  heavens. 

For  this  reason  is  it  that  Protestants  are  so  completely 
absorbed  in  temporal  interests,  in  the  things  that  fall  imdei 
their  senses,  that  their  whole  life  is  only  materialism  put  in 
action.  Lucre  is  the  sole  object  on  which  their  eyes  are 
constantly  fixed.  A  burning  thirst  to  realize  some  profit, 
great  or  small,  absorbs  all  their  faculties,  the  whole  energy 
of  their  being.  They  never  pursue  anything  with  ardor  but 
riches  and  enjoyments.  God,  the  soul,  a  future  life  —  they 
believe  in  none  of  them;  or  rather,  they  never  think  about 
them  at  all.  If  they  ever  take  up  a  moral  or  a  religious 
book,  or  go  to  a  meeting-house,  it  is  only  by  way  of  amuse 
ment  —  to  pass  the  time  away.  It  is  a  less  serious  occupation 
than  smoking  a  pipe  or  drinking  a  cup  of  tea.  If  you 
speak  to  them  about  the  foundations  of  faith,  of  the  princi 
ples  of  Christianity,  of  the  importance  of  salvation,  the 


146  THE  FAR  COUNTRY— INFIDELITY. 

certainty  of  a  life  beyond  the  grave — all  these  truths  which 
so  powerfully  impress  a  mind  susceptible  of  religious  feel 
ing — they  listen  with  a  certain  pleasure;  for  it  amuses  them 
and  piques  their  curiosity.  In  their  opinion  all  this  is  "  true, 
fine,  grand."  They  deplore  the  blindness  of  men  who  at 
tach  themselves  to  the  perishable  goods  of  this  world;  per 
haps  they  will  even  give  utterance  to  some  fine  sentences  on 
the  happiness  of  knowing  the  true  God,  of  serving  Him, 
and  of  meriting  by  this  means  the  reward  of  eternal  life. 
They  simply  never  think  of  religion  at  all ;  they  like  very 
well  to  talk  about  it,  but  it  is  as  of  a  thing  not  made  for 
them — a  thing  with  which,  personally,  they  have  nothing  to 
do.  This  indifference  they  carry  so  far — religious  sensibility 
is  so  entirely  withered  or  dead  within  them — that  they  care 
not  a  straw  whether  a  doctrine  is  true  or  false,  good  or  bad. 
Religion  is  to  them  simply  a  fashion,  which  those  may  fol 
low  who  have  a  taste  for  it.  By  and  by,  all  in  good  time, 
they  say;  one  should  never  be  precipitate  ;  it  is  not  good  to 
be  too  enthusiastic.  No  doubt  the  Catholic  religion  is  beau 
tiful  and  sublime ;  its  doctrine  explains  with  method  and 
clearness  all  that  is  necessary  for  man  to  know.  Whoever 
1ms  any  sense  will  see  that,  and  will  adopt  it  in  his  heart  in 
all  sincerity ;  but  after  all,  one  must  not  think  too  much  o-f 
these  things,  and  increase  the  cares  of  life.  Now,  just  con- 
eider  we  have  a  body;  how  many  cares  it  demands.  It  must 
be  clothed,  fed,  and  sheltered  from  the  injuries  of  the 
weather ;  its  infirmities  are  great,  and  its  maladies  are  nu 
merous.  It  is  agreed  on  all  hands  that  health  is  our  most 
precious  good.  This  body  that  we  see,  that  we  touch,  must 
be  taken  care  of  every  day  and  every  moment  of  the  day. 
Is  not  this  enough  without  troubling  ourselves  about  a  soul 
that  we  never  see  ?  The  life  of  man  is  short  and  full  of 
misery;  it  is  made  up  of  a  succession  of  important  concerns 
that  follow  one  another  without  interruption.  Our  hearts 
and  our  minds  are  scarcelv  sufficient  for  the  solicitudes  of 


THE  FA  R  Go  UNTR  Y— INFIDEL  ITY.  14  ? 

the  present  life;  is  it  wise,  then,  to  torment  one's  self  about 
the  future?  Is  it  not  far  better  to  live  in  blessed  igno 
rance  ? 

Ask  them,  What  would  you  think  of  a  traveller  who,  on 
finding  himself  at  a  dilapidated  inn,  open  to  all  the  winds, 
and  deficient  in  the  most  absolute  necessaries,  should  spend 
all  his  time  in  trying  how  he  could  make  himself  most  com 
fortable  in  it,  without  ever  thinking  of  preparing  himself 
for  his  departure  and  his  return  into  the  bosom  of  his  fam 
ily  ?  Would  this  traveller  be  acting  in  a  wise  and  reason 
able  manner?  "  No,"  they  will  reply;  "one  must  not 
travel  in  that  way.  But  man, nevertheless,  must  confine  him 
self  within  proper  limits.  How  can  he  provide  for  two  lives 
at  the  same  time?  I  take  care  of  this  life,  and  the  care  of 
the  other  I  leave  to  God."  If  a  traveller  ought  not  regu 
larly  to  take  up  his  abode  at  an  inn,  neither  ought  he  to 
travel  on  two  roads  at  the  same  time.  When  one  wishes  to 
cross  a  river,  it  will  not  do  to  have  two  boats,  and  set  a  foot 
in  each;  such  a  proceeding  would  involve  the  risk  of  a  tum 
ble  into  the  water  and  drowning  one's  self.  Such  is  the  deep 
abyss  of  religious  indifferentism  into  which  so  many  Protef- 
taints  of  our  day  have  fallen,  and  from  which  they  naturally 
fall  into  one  deeper  still — infidelity. 

A  body  which  has  lost  the  principle  of  its  animation  be- 
conies  dust.  Hence  it  is  an  axiom  that  the  change  or  per 
version  of  the  principles  by  which  anything  was  produced  is 
the  destruction  of  that  very  thing ;  if  you  can  change  or  per 
vert  the  principles  from  which  anything  springs,  you  destroy 
it  For  instance,  one  single  foreign  element  introduced  into 
the  blood  produces  death  ;  one  false  assumption  admitted 
into  science  destroys  its  certainty;  one  false  principle  ad 
mitted  into  faith  and  morals,  is  fatal.  The  reformers 
started  wrong.  They  would  reform  the  Church  by  placing 
her  under  human  control.  Their  successors  have  in  each 
generation  found  they  did  not  go  far  enough,  and  have, 


148  THE  FAR  COUNTRY— INFIDELITY. 

each  in  turn,  struggled  to  push  it  further  and  further,  till 
they  find  themselves  without  any  church  life,  without  faith, 
without  religion,  and  beginning  to  doubt  if  there  be  even  a 
God. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that,  before  the  Reformation,  in 
fidels  were  scarcely  known  in  the  Christian  world.  Since 
that  event  they  have  come  forth  in  swarms.  It  is  from  the 
writings  of  Herbert,  Hobbes,  Bloum,  Shaftesbury,  Boling- 
broke,  and  Boyle  that  Voltaire  and  his  party  drew  the  ob 
jections  and  errors  which  they  have  brought  so  generally 
into  fashion  in  the  world.  According  to  Diderot  and  d'Al- 
embert,  the  first  step  that  the  untractable  Catholic  takes  is 
to  adopt  the  Protestant  principle  of  private  judgment.  He 
establishes  himself  judge  of  his  religion ;  leaves  and  joins 
the  reform.  Dissatisfied  with  the  incoherent  doctrines  he 
there  discovers,  he  passes  over  to  the  Socinians,  whose  incon 
sequences  soon  drive  him  into  Deism.  Still  pursued  by 
unexpected  difficulties,  he  finds  refuge  in  universal  doubt; 
but  still  haunted  by  uneasiness,  heat  length  resolves  to  take 
the  last  step,  and  proceeds  to  terminate  the  long  chain  of 
his  errors  in  infidelity.  Let  us  not  forget  that  the  first  link 
of  this  chain  is  attached  to  the  fundamental  maxim  of  pri 
vate  judgment.  They  judged  of  religion  as  they  did  of 
their  breakfast  and  dinner.  A  religion  was  good' or  bad, 
true  or  false,  just  as  it  suited  their  tastes,  their  likings ; 
their  religious  devotion  varied  like  the  weather;  they 
must  feel  it  as  they  felt  the  heat  and  cold. 

New  fashions  of  belief  sprang  up,  and  changed  and  dis 
appeared  as  rapidly  as  the  new  fashions  of  dress.  Men 
judged  not  only  of  every  revealed  doctrine,  but  they  also 
judged  of  the  Bible  itself.  Protestantism,  having  no  au 
thority,  could  not  check  this  headlong  tendency  to  unbe 
lief.  Its  ministers  dare  no  longer  preach  or  teach  any  doc 
trine  which  is  displeasing  to  the  people.  Every  Protestant 
preacher  who  wishes  to  be  heard  and  to  retain  his  salary 


THE  FAR  COUNTRY— L\  FIDELITY.  149 

must  first  feel  the  pulse  of  his  hearers ;  he  must  make 
himself  the  slave  of  their  opinions  and  likings. 

It  is,  therefore,  historically  correct  that  the  same  princi 
ple  that  created  Protestantism  three  centuries  ago  has  never 
ceased  since  that  time  to  spin  it  out  into  a  thousand  diffe 
rent  sects,  and  has  concluded  by  covering  Europe  and  Ame 
rica  with  that  multitude  of  free-thinkers  and  infidels  who 
place  these  countries  on  the  verge  of  ruin. 

The  individual  reason  taking  as  it  does  the  place  of  faith, 
the  Protestant,  whether  lie  believes  it  or  not,  is  an  infidel 
in  germ,  and  the  infidel  is  a  Protestant  in  full  bloom.  In 
other  words,  infidelity  is  nothing  but  Protestantism  m  the 
highest  degree.  Hence  it  is  that  Edgar  Quinet,  a  great 
herald  of  Protestantism,  is  right  in  styling  the  Protestant 
sects  the  thousand  gates  open  to  get  out  of  Christianity. 
No  wonder,  then,  that  thousands  of  Protestants  have  ended, 
and  continue  to  end,  in  framing  their  own  formula  of  faith 
thus:  "I  believe  in  nothing."  And  here  1  ask,  what  is 
easier,  from  this  state  of  irreligion  and  infidelity,  than  the 
passage  to  idolatry  ? 

This  assertion  may  seem  incredible  to  some  at  this  day, 
and  may  be  esteemed  an  absurdity ;  but  idolatry  is  expressly 
mentioned  in  the  Apocalypse  as  existing  in  the  time  of  An- 
lichrist.  And,  indeed,  our  surprise  will  much  abate  if  we 
take  into  consideration  the  temper  and  disposition  of  the 
present  times.  When  men  divest  themselves,  as  they  seem 
to  do  at  present,  of  all  fear  of  the  Supreme  Being,  of  nil  re 
spect  of  their  Creator  and  Lord  ;  when  they  surrender  them 
selves  to  the  gratification  of  sensuality;  when  they  give  full 
freedom  to  the  human  passions  and  direct  their  whole  study 
to  the  pursuits  of  a  corrupt  world,  with  a  total  forgetfulness 
of  a  future  state  ;  when  they  give  children  a  godless  educa 
tion,  and  have  no  longer  any  religion  to  teach  them,  may  we 
not  say  that  the  transition  to  idolatry  is  easy  ?  When  all 
the  steps  leading  up  to  a  certain  point  are  taken,  what  won- 


150  THE  FAR  COUNTRY— INFIDELITY. 

der  if  we  arrive  at  that  point?  Such  was  the  gradual  de 
generacy  of  mankind  in  the  early  ages  of  the  world  that 
brought  on  the  abominable  practices  of  idol-worship. 

Of  course  it  will  be  said  that  we  have  the  happiness  of 
living  in  the  most  enlightened  of  all  ages ;  our  knowledge 
is  more  perfect,  our  ideas  more  developed  and  refined,  the 
human  faculties  more  improved  and  better  cultivated,  than 
they  ever  were  before ;  in  fine,  that  the  present  race  of  man 
kind  may  be  reckoned  a  society  of  philosophers  when  com 
pared  to  the  generations  that  have  gone  before.  How  is  it 
possible,  then,  that  such  stupidity  can  seize  upon  the  human 
mind  as  to  sink  it  in  to  idolatry  ? 

This  kind  of  reasoning  is  more  specious  than  solid.  For, 
allowing  the  present  times  to  surpass  the  past  in  refinement 
and  knowledge,  it  must  be  said  that  they  are  proportionately 
more  vicious.  Refinement  of  reason  has  contributed,  as 
every  one  knows,  to  refine  upon  the  means  of  gratifying  the 
human  passions. 

Besides,  however  enlightened  the  mind  may  be  supposed 
to  be,  if  the  heart  is  corrupt  the  excesses  into  which  a  man 
will  run  are  evidenced  by  daily  experience. 

Witness  our  modern  spiritism  (spiritualism).  What  else 
is  our  modern  spiritualism  than  a  revival  of  the  old  heathen 
idol-worship  ? 

Satan  is  constantly  engaged  in  doing  all  in  his  power 
to  entice  men  away  from  God,  and  to  have  himself  wor 
shipped  instead  of  the  Creator.  The  introduction,  estab 
lishment,  persistence  and  power  of  the  various  cruel,  re 
volting  superstitions,  of  the  ancient  heathen  world,  or  of 
pagan  nations  in  modern  times,  are  nothing  but  the  work  of 
(he  devil.  They  reveal  a  more  than  human  power.  God 
permitted  Satan  to  operate  upon  man's  morbid  nature,  as  a 
deserved  punishment  upon  the  Gentiles  for  their  hatred  of 
truth  and  their  apostasy  from  the  primitive  religion.  Men 
left  to  themselves,  to  human  nature  alone,  however  low  tliev 


THE  FA  R  Co  UNTR  Y—  I  *  FIDELITY.  1 5 1 

might  be  prone  to  descend,  never  could  descend  so  low  as 
to  worship  wood  and  stone,  four-footed  beasts,  and  creeping 
things.  To  do  this  needs  satanic  delusion. 

Paganism  in  its  old  form  was  doomed.  Christianity  had 
silenced  the  oracles  and  driven  the  devils  back  to  hell. 
How  was  the  devil  to  re-establish  his  worship  on  earth,  and 
carry  on  his  war  against  the  Son  of  God  and  the  religion 
which  He  taught  us?  Evidently  only  by  changing  his  tac 
tics  and  turning  the  truth  into  a  lie.  He  found  men  in  all 
the  heresiarchs  who,  like  Eve,  gave  ear  to  his  suggestions, 
and  believed  him  more  than  the  Infallible  Word  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Thus  he  has  succeeded  in  banishing  the  true  re 
ligion  from  whole  countries,  or  in  mixing  it  with  false  doc 
trines.  He  has  prevailed  upon  thousands  to  believe  the 
doctrines  of  vain,  self-conceited  men,  rather  than  the  reli 
gion  taught  by  Jesus  Christ  and  His  Apostles.  It  is  by 
heresies,  revolutions,  bad  secret  societies,  and  godless  state 
school  education,  that  he  has  succeeded  so  far  as  to  bring 
thousands  of  men  back  to  a  state  of  heathenism  and  infi 
delity.  The  time  has  come  for  him  to  introduce  idolatry,  or 
his  own  worship.  To  do  this  he  makes  use  of  spiritualism. 
Through  the  spirit-mediums  he  performs  lying  wonders. 
He  gives  pretended  revelations  from  the  spirit- world,  in 
order  to  destroy  or  weaken  all  faith  in  divine  revelation. 
He  thus  strives  to  re-establish  in  Christian  lands  that  very 
same  devil-worship  which  has  so  long  existed  among  heathen 
nations,  and  which  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  came  to  destroy. 
The  Holy  Scriptures  assure  us  that  all  the  gods  of  the 
heathens  are  devils  ("Omnes  dii  gentium  daemonia." — Ps.) 
These  demons  took  possession  of  the  idols  made  of  wood  or 
stone,  of  gold  or  silver;  they  had  temples  erected  in  their 
honor;  they  had  their  sacrifices,  their  priests,  and  their 
priestesses.  They  uttered  oracles.  They  were  consulted 
tli rough  their  mediums  in  all  affairs  of  importance,  and 
especially  in  order  to  find  out  the  future,  precisely  as  they 


152  THE  FAR  COUXTKY—  INFIDELITY. 

are   consulted  by  our  modern  spiritualists  at  the  present 
day. 

In  modern  spiritualism  the  devil  communicates  with  men 
by  means  of  tables,  chairs,  tablets,  or  planchette,  or  by  rap 
ping,  writing,  seeing-  and  speaking  mediums.  It  is  all  the 
same  to  the  devil  whether  he  communicates  with  men  and 
leads  them  astray  by  means  of  idols,  or  by  means  of  tables, 
chairs,  planchette,  and  the  like. 

Assuredly,  if  the  philosopher  is  not  governed  by  the 
power  of  religion,  his  conduct  will  be  absurd  and  even  des 
picable  to  the  most  ignorant  individual  of  the  lowest  rank. 

A  Socrates,  a  Cicero,  a  Seneca,  are  said  to  have  been 
acquainted  with  the  knowledge  of  one  supreme  God;  but  they 
had  not  courage  to  profess  His  worship,  and  in  their  public 
conduct  basely  sacrificed  to  stocks  and  stones  with  the  vul 
gar.  When  men  have  banished  from  their  heart  the  sense 
of  religion,  and  despise  the  rights  of  justice  (and  is  this  not 
the  case  with  numbers  ?),  will  many  of  them  scruple  to  offer 
incense  to  a  statue,  if  by  so  doing  they  serve  their  ambition, 
their  interest,  or  whatever  may  be  their  favorite  passion  ? 
Where  is  the  cause  for  surprise,  then,  if  infidelity  and  irre- 
ligion  be  succeeded  by  idolatry?  That  pride  alone,  when 
inflamed  with  a  constant  flow  of  prosperity,  may  raise  a  man 
to  the  extravagant  presumption  of  claiming  for  himself 
divine  honors,  we  see  in  the  example  of  Alexander,  the 
celebrated  Macedonian  conqueror,  and  of  several  emperors 
of  Babylon  and  ancient  Rome.  From  suggestions  of  that 
same  principle  of  pride,  it  will  happen  that  Antichrist, 
elevated  by  a  continued  course  of  victories  and  conquests, 
will  set  himself  up  for  a  god.  And  as  at  that  time  the 
propagation  of  infidelity,  irreligion,  and  immorality  will  have 
become  universal,  this  defection  from  faith,  disregard  for  its 
teachers,  licentiousness  in  opinions,  depravity  in  morals,  will 
so  far  deaden  all  influence  of  religion,  and  cause  such  de  • 
generacy  in  mankind,  that  many  will  be  base  enough  even 


THE  FAR  COUNTRY— INFIDELITY.  153 

to  espouse  idolatry,  to  yield  to  the  absurd  impiety  of  wor 
shipping  Antichrist  as  their  Lord  and  God ;  some  out  of 
fear  for  what  they  may  lose,  others  to  gain  what  they  covet. 
Then  will  it  be  evident  to  all  that  infidelity,  and  even 
idolatry,  existed  in  the  Protestant  principle  of  private  judg 
ment,  as  the  oak  exists  in  the  acorn,  as  the  consequence  is 
in  the  premise  ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  this  principle  was 
but  the  powerful  weapon  of  Satan  to  carry  on  his  war 
against  Christ;  of  the  sons  of  Belial  to  fight  the  keepers  of 
the  law ;  of  false  and  anti-social  liberty  to  destroy  true  and 
rational  liberty — to  make  worshippers  of  the  devil  out  of  the 
worshippers  of  God. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PORTRAIT   OF  THE   INFIDEL. 

WE  have  seen  what  leads  to  infidelity.  Let  us  now  see 
what  kind  of  a  man  is  the  infidel.  In  our  day  and 
eourtry  it  has  become  fashionable  for  a  large  number  of 
men  to  have  no  religion,  and  even  to  boast  of  having  none. 
To  have  no  religion  is  a  great  crime,  but  to  boast  of  having 
none  is  the  height  of  folly.  The  man  without  religion  is  a 
kind  of  monster  with  the  intelligence  of  a  man  and  the 
cruelty  and  instincts  of  a  beast.  His  religion  is  to  disre 
gard  good  principles ;  to  do  away,  not  only  with  all  revealed 
religion,  but  even  with  the  law  of  nature  ;  to  hold  iniquity 
in  veneration ;  to  practise  fraud,  theft,  and  robbery  almost  as 
a  common  trade ;  to  be  regardless  of  parents  and  of  all 
divinely-constituted  authority;  to  create  confusion,  not  only 
in  religion,  but  also  in  government  and  in  the  family  circle ; 
to  contribute  towards  the  increase  of  the  number  of  apos 
tates,  and  make  of  these  apostates  members  of  such  secret 
societies  as  aim  at  the  overthrow  of  governments,  of  all 
order,  and  of  the  Christian  religion  itself. 

The  man  without  religion  says  :  "  There  is  no  God." 
He  says  so  "in  his  heart,"  says  Holy  Writ;  he  says  not  so 
in  his  head,  because  he  knows  better.  There  are  moments 
when,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  returns  to  better  sentiments. 
Let  him  be  in  imminent  danger  of  death  or  of  a  considera 
ble  loss  of  fortune,  and  how  quickly,  on  such  occasions,  he 
lays  aside  the  mask  of  infidelity  !  He  straightway  makes 
his  profession  of  faith  in  an  Almighty  God  ;  he  cries  out : 
"  Lord  !  save  me ;  1  am  perishing  ;  Lord  !  have  mercy  on  me  " 

154 


PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL.  155 

The  famous  Volney  was  once  on  a  voyage  with  some  of  his 
friends  off  the  coast  of  Maryland.  All  at  once  a  great 
storm  arose,  and  the  little  bark,  which  bore  the  flower  of  the 
unbelievers  of  both  hemispheres,  appeared  twenty  times  on 
the  point  of  being  lost.  In  this  imminent  danger  every  one 
began  to  pray.  M.  de  Volney  himself  snatched  a  rosary 
from  a  good  woman  near  him,  and  began  to  recite  Tluil 
Marys  with  edifying  fervor,  nor  ceased  till  the  danger  was 
over.  When  the  storm  had  passed,  some  one  said  to  him 
in  a  tone  of  good-natured  raillery  :  "  My  dear  sir,  it  seems 
to  me  that  you  were  praying  just  now.  To  whom  did  you 
address  yourself,  since  you  maintain  that  there  is  no  God  ?  " 
"  Ah  !  my  friend,"  replied  the  philosopher,  all  ashamed, 
*'  one  can  be  a  sceptic  in  his  study,  but  not  at  sea  in  a 
storm." — Noel,  Catecli.  de  Rodez,  i.  73. 

A  certain  innkeeper  had  learned,  in  bad  company,  all  sorts 
of  impiety.  In  his  wickedness  he  went  even  so  far  as  to  say 
that  he  did  not  believe  in  God.  One  night  he  was  roused 
by  the  cry  of  "  Fire  !  fire  ! "  His  house  was  on  fire.  No 
sooner  had  he  perceived  the  dreadful  havoc  going  on  than  he 
cried  with  clasped  hands  :  "My  God  !  0  my  God  !  God  Al 
mighty  !  God  of  grace  and  mercy  !  have  pity  on  me  and 
help  me  !"  Here  he  was  suddenly  stopped  by  one  of  his 
neighbors:  "How!  wretch,  you  have  been  denying  and 
blaspheming  God  all  the  evening,  and  you  would  have  him 
come  now  to  your  assistance  !" — Schmid  and  Belet,  Cat. 
Hist.  i.  43. 

Colonel  Ethan  Allen,  the  hero  of  Ticonderoga,  was  an 
atheist  and  unbeliever.  On  the  12th  of  November,  1827, 
his  daughter  fell  dangerously  ill.  The  poor  girl  appeared 
to  have  but  a  few  moments  to  live.  She  sent  for  her  father 
to  her  bedside,  and,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  faintly  address 
ed  him  in  these  words :  "  My  dear  father,  I  am  going  to  die 
very  soon  ;  tell  me  seriously,  then,  I  entreat  you,  whether  I 
am  to  believe  what  you  have  so  often  told  me — that  there  is 


156  PORTRAIT  OF  TUB  In  FIDEL. 

neither  God  nor  heaven  nor  hell,  or  what  I  learned  in  thf 
catechism  which  my  mother  taught  mo  ?  "  The  father  was 
thunderstruck  ;  he  remained  silent  for  some  moments,  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  his  expiring  daughter.  His  heart  appeared 
to  be  torn  by  some  violent  struggle.  At  length  he  ap 
proached  the  bed,  and  said  in  a  choking  voice:  "  My  child, 
my  dear  child,  believe  only  what  your  mother  taught  you  ! " 
The  astonishment  of  the  unbelievers  who  heard  him  may 
easily  be  imagined.  One  of  them,  who  had  long  before  ab 
jured  his  religion,  being  asked  what  he  thought,  replied 
that  it  was  more  pleasant  to  live  according  to  his  new  reli 
gion,  but  it  was  better  to  die  in  the  old. — Schmid  and  Belet, 
Cat.  Hist.  ii.  47. 

From  these  examples  it  is  evident  that  the  mouth  of  the 
infidel  belies  his  own  heart. 

There  is  still  another  proof  to  show  that  the  infidel  does 
not  believe  what  he  says.  Why  is  it  that  he  makes  his  im 
pious  doctrines  the  subject  of  conversation  on  every  occa 
sion  ?  It  is,  of  course,  first  to  communicate  his  devilish 
principles  to  others,  and  make  them  as  bad  as  he  himself  is; 
but  this  is  not  the  only  reason.  The  good  Catholic  seldom 
speaks  of  his  religion  ;  he  feels  assured,  by  the  grace  of  God, 
that  his  religion  is  the  only  true  one,  and  that  he  will  be 
saved  if  he  lives  up  to  it.  Such  is  not  the  case  with  the  in 
fidel  ;  he  is  constantly  tormented  in  his  soul.  "  There  is  no 
peace,  no  happiness  for  the  impious,"  says  Holy  Scripture.  * 
He  tries  to  quiet  the  fears  -of  his  soul,  the  remorse  of  his 
conscience ;  so  he  communicates  to  others,  on  every  occa 
sion,  his  perverse  principles,  hoping  to  meet  with  some  of 
his  fellow-men  who  may  approve  of  his  impious  views,  that 
he  thus  may  find  some  relief  for  his  interior  torments.  He 
resembles  a  timid  man  who  is  obliged  to  travel  during  a 
dark  night,  and  who  begins  to  sing  and  cry  in  order  to  keep 
away  fear.  The  infidel  is  a  sort  of  night  travel  Jut  he 
*  Isalas  xlviii.  22 


PORTRAIT  OP  THE  INFIDEL.  157 

travels  in  the  horrible  darkness  of  his  impiety.  His  interior 
conviction  tells  him  that  there  is  a  God,  who  will  certainly 
punish  him  in  the  most  frightful  manner.  This  fills  him 
with  great  fear,  and  makes  him  extremely  unhappy  every 
moment  of  his  life ;  he  cannot  bear  the  sight  of  a  Catholi'r 
church,  of  a  Catholic  procession,  of  an  image  of  our  Lord, 
of  a  picture  of  a  saint,  of  a  prayer-book,  of  a  good  Catholic, 
of  a  priest — in  a  word,  he  cannot  bear  anything  that  re 
minds  him  of  God,  of  religion,  of  his  own  guilt  and  impiety ; 
so  on  every  occasion  he  cries  out  against  faith  in  God,  in  all 
that  God  has  revealed  and  proposes  to  us  for  our  belief  by 
the  holy  Catholic  Church.  What  is  the  object  of  his  impious 
cries  ?  It  is  to  deafen,  to  keep  down,  in  some  measure,  the 
clamors  of  his  conscience.  Our  hand  will  involuntarily 
touch  that  part  of  the  body  where  we  feel  pain ;  in  like 
manner,  the  tongue  of  the  infidel  touches,  on  all  occasions, 
involuntarily  as  it  were,  upon  all  those  truths  of  our  holy 
religion  which  inspire  him  with  fear  of  the  judgments  of 
Almighty  God.  He  feels  but  too  keenly  that  he  cannot  do 
away  with  God  and  His  sacred  religion  by  denying  His  ex 
istence. 

The  man  without  religion  must  necessarily  lose  the  esteem 
and  confidence  of  his  fellow-men.  What  confidence  can  be 
placed  in  a  man  who  has  no  religion,  and  consequently  no 
knowledge  of  his  duties  ?  What  confidence  can  you  place 
in  a  man  who  never  feels  himself  bound  by  any  obligation 
of  conscience,  who  has  no  higher  motive  to  direct  him  than 
his  self-love,  his  own  interests  ?  The  pagan  Roman,  though 
enlightened  only  by  reason,  had  yet  virtue  enough  to  say : 
"I  live  not  for  myself,  but  for  the  republic";  but  the  in 
fidel's  motto  is  :  "I  live  only  for  myself  ;  I  care  for  no  one 
but  myself."  How  can  such  a  man  reconcile  "poverty  and 
wealth,"  "labor  and  ease,"  "sickness  and  health,"  "ad 
versity  and  prosperity,"  "rich  and  poor,"  "obedience  and 
authority,"  "liberty  and  law/'  etc.,  etc.?  All  these  are 


158  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL. 

enigmas  to  him,  or,  if  he  aifects  to  understand  them  at  all, 
he  thinks  they  arise  from  bad  management  or  oad  govern 
ment.  He  will  be  a  tyrant  or  a  slave,  a  glutton  or  a  miser, 
a  fanatic  or  a  libertine,  a  thief  or  a  highway  robber,  as  cir 
cumstances  may  influence  him.  Think  you  that  the  common 
"  fall-back  "  on  the  principle  of  self-interest — well  or  ill  un 
derstood — will  ever  restrain  such  a  one  from  doing  any  act 
of  impulse  or  indulgence,  provided  he  thinks  it  can  be  safely 
done  ?  He  will  look  on  life  as  a  game  of  address  or  force, 
in  which  the  best  man  is  he  who  carries  off  the  prize. 

He  will  look  upon  power  as  belonging  of  right  to  the 
strongest ;  the  weak,  or  those  who  differ  from  him  in  opin 
ion,  he  will  treat  with  contempt  and  cruelty,  and  will  think 
that  they  have  no  rights  which  he  is  bound  to  respect.  In 
power  such  a  man  will  be  arbitrary  and  cruel ;  out  of 
power  he  will  be  faithless,  hypocritical,  and  subservient. 
Trust  him  with  authority,  he  will  abuse  it  ;  trust  him  with 
money,  he  will  steal  it ;  trust  him  with  your  confidence,  and 
he  will  betray  it.  Such  a  man — pagan  and  unprincipled 
as  he  is — may  nevertheless  affect,  when  it  suits  his  purpose, 
great  religious  zeal  and  purity.  He  will  talk  of  Philan 
thropy  and  the  Humanities,  have  great  compassion,  per 
haps,  for  a  dray-horse,  and  give  the  cold  shoulder  to  the 
houseless  pauper  or  orphan. 

The  heart  of  such  a  man  is  cold,  insincere,  destitute  of 
every  tender  chord  for  a  tender  vibration,  of  every  particle 
of  right  or  just  feeling  or  principle  that  can  be  touched;  on 
the  contrary,  it  is  roused  to  rage,  revenge,  and  falsehood  if 
interfered  with.  How  is  such  a  heart  to  be  touched  or 
moved,  or  placed  under  such  influences  as  could  move  it? 
Indeed,  it  would  require  a  miracle.  Nay,  even  a  miracle 
would  fail  to  make  a  salutary  impression  upon  such  a  heart. 
A  French  infidel  declared  that,  should  he  be  told  that  the 
most  remarkable  miracle  was  occurring  close  by  his  housej 
tie  would  not  move  a  step  out  of  his  way  to  see  it.  Pride 


PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL.  159 

never  surrenders  ;  it  prefers  rather  to  take  an  illogical  posi 
tion  than  to  bow  even  to  the  authority  of  reason.  Furious, 
beside  itself,  and  absurd,  it  revolts  against  evidence.  To 
all  reasoning,  to  undeniable  evidence,  the  infidel — the  man 
without  religion — opposes  his  own  will :  "  Such  is  my  deter 
mination."  It  is  sweet  to  him  to  be  stronger  single-handed 
than  common  sense,  stronger  than  miracles,  stronger  even 
than  God  who  manifests  Himself  by  them. 

Such  a  man  may  be  called  civilized,  but  he  is  only  an  ac 
complished  barbarian.  His  head  and  hands  are  instructed, 
his  heart,  and  low  passions,  and  appetites  unbridled  and 
untamed. 

Collot  d'Herbois  played  the  most  execrable  part  during 
the  French  Ee volution.  Having  become  a  representative 
of  the  people  under  the  Reign  of  Terror,  he  had  the  Lyon- 
ese  massacred  in  hundreds.  The  very  accomplices  of  his 
crimes  regarded  him  as  a  man  so  dangerous  that  they 
thought  it  expedient  to  exclude  him  from  society  by  ban 
ishing  him  to  the  deserts  of  Guiana.  Transported  to  that 
tropical  country,  he  looked  upon  himself  as  the  most  miser 
able  of  men.  "I  am  punished,"  would  he  sometimes  ex 
claim;  "the  abandonment  in  which  I  find  myself  is  a  hell." 
Being  attacked  by  a  malignant  fever,  he  was  to  be  taken  to 
Cayenne.  The  negroes  charged  with  this  commission  threw 
him  on  the  public  roud  with  his  face  turned  to  the  scorch 
ing  sun.  They  said  in  their  own  language:  "We  will  not 
carry  that  murderer  of  religion  and  of  men."  "What  is 
the  matter  with  you?"  asked  the  doctor,  Guysonf,  when  he 
arrived.  "  I  have  a  burning  fever  and  perspiration."  "  I 
believe  it ;  you  are  sweating  crime. "  He  called  on  God  and 
the  Blessed  Virgin  to  assist  him.  A  soldier,  to  whom  he 
had  preached  irreligion,  asked  him  why  he  invoked  God  and 
the  Blessed  Virgin — he  who  mocked  them  some  months  be 
fore.  "Ah  !  my  friend,"  said  he,  "  my  mouth  then  belied 
my  heart."  He  then  cried  out:  "0  my  God,  my  God  I 


160  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL. 

can  1  yet  hope  for  pardon  ?  Send  me  a  consoler,  send  me  a 
priest,  to  turn  mine  eyes  away  from  the  furnace  that  con 
sumes  me.  My  God,  give  me  peace  ! "  The  spectacle  of 
his  last  moments  was  so  frightful  that  no  one  could  remain 
near  him.  Whilst  they  were  seeking  a  priest  he  expired,  on 
the  7th  of  June,  1796,  his  eyes  half  open,  his  hands  clench 
ed,  his  mouth  full  of  blood  and  froth.  His  burial  was  so 
neglected  that  the  negro  grave-diggers  only  half  covered 
him,  and  his  body  became  the  food  for  swine  and  birds  of 
prey. — Debussi,  Nouveau  Hois  de  Marie,  251. 

The  man  without  religion  is  a  slave  to  the  most  degrad 
ing  superstition.  Instead  of  worshipping  the  true,  free, 
living  God,  who  governs  all  things  by  His  Providence,  he 
bows  before  the  horrid  phantom  of  blind  chance  or  inexora 
ble  destiny.'  He  is  a  man  who  obstinately  refuses  to  believe 
the  most  solidly  established  facts  in  favor  of  religion,  and 
yet,  with  blind  credulity,  greedily  swallows  the  most  absurd 
falsehoods  uttered  against  religion.  He  is  a  man  wnose 
reason  has  fled,  and  whose  passions  speak,  object,  and  de 
cide  in  the  name  of  reason.  He  is  sunk  in  the  grossest 
ignorance  regarding  religion.  He  blasphemes  what  he  does 
not  understand.  He  rails  at  the  doctrines  of  the  Church, 
without  knowing  really  what  her  doctrines  are.  He  sneers 
at  the  doctrines  and  practices  of  religion  because  he  cannot 
refute  them.  He  speaks  with  the  utmost  gravity  of  the  fine 
arts,  the  fashions,  and  matters  the  most  trivial,  while  he 
turns  the  most  sacred  subjects  into  ridicule.  In  the  midst 
of  his  own  circle  of  fops  and  silly  women  he  utters  his 
shallow  conceits  with  all  the  pompous  assurance  of  a  pe 
dant. 

The  man  without  religion  is  a  dishonest  plagiarist,  who 
copies  from  Catholic  writers  all  the  objections  made  against 
the  Church  by  the  infidels  of  former  times  or  by  modern 
heretics ;  but  he  takes  good  care  to  omit  all  the  excellent 
answers  and  complete  refutations  which  are  contained  in 


PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL.  161 

those  very  writings.     His  object  is  not  to  seek  the  truth, 
but  to  propagate  falsehood. 

The  man  without  religion  often  pretends  to  be  an  infidel, 
in  order  to  appear  fashionable.  He  is  usually  conceited, 
obstinate,  puffed  up  with  pride,  a  great  talker,  always  shal 
low  and  fickle,  skipping  from  one  subject  to  another  without 
thoroughly  examining  any.  At  one  moment  he  is  a  deist, 
at  another  a  materialist,  then  he  is  a  sceptic,  and  again  an 
atheist,  always  changing  his  views,  but  always  a  slave  of  his 
passions,  always  an  enemy  of  Christ. 

The  man  without  religion  often  praises  all  religions — he 
is  a  true  knave.  He  says  :  "  If  I  were  to  choose  my  religion, 
I  would  become  a  Catholic ;  for  it  is  the  most  reasonable  of 
all  religions."  But  in  his  heart  he  despises  all  religion  ;  he 
scrapes  together  all  the  wicked  and  absurd  calumnies  he  can 
find  against  the  Church.  He  falsely  accuses  her  of  teaching 
monstrous  doctrines  which  she  has  always  abhorred  and 
condemned,  and  he  displays  his  ingenuity  by  combating 
those  monstrous  doctrines  which  he  himself  has  invented  or 
copied  from  authors  as  dishonest  as  himself.  The  infidel  is 
a  monster  without  faith,  without  law,  without  religion, 
without  God. 

There  are  many  who  call  themselves  "free-thinkers" 
— many  who  reject  all  revealed  religion — merely  out  of 
puerile  vanity.  They  affect  singularity  in  order  to  attract 
notice,  to  make  people  believe  that  they  are  strong-minded, 
that  they  are  independent.  Poor,  deluded  slaves  of  human 
respect  !  They  affect  singularity  in  order  to  attract  notice, 
and  they  forget  that  there  is  another  class  of  people  in  the 
world  also  noted  for  singularity  ;  in  fact,  they  are  so  singular 
that  they  have  to  be  shut  up  for  safe-keeping  in  a  mad 
house. 

What  is  the  difference  between  an  infidel  and  a  madman? 

The  only  difference  is  that  the  madness  of  the  infidel  is 
wilful,  while  the  madness  of  the  poor  lunatic  is  entirely  in- 


162  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL. 

voluntary.  The  one  arouses  our  compassion,  while  41* 
other  excites  our  contempt  and  just  indignation. 

The  man  without  religion  is  a  slave  of  the  most  shameful 
passions.  What  virtue  can  that  man  have  who  believes  that 
whatever  he  desires  is  lawful ;  who  designates  the  most 
shameful  crimes  by  the  name  of  innocent  pleasures?  What 
virtue  can  that  man  have  who  knows  no  other  law  than  his 
passions;  who  believes  that  God  regards  with  equal  eye 
truth  and  falsehood,  vice  and  virtue  ?  He  may  indeed 
practise  some  natural  virtues,  but  these  virtues  are,  in  gene 
ral,  only  exterior.  They  are  practised  merely  out  of  hu 
man  respect ;  they  do  not  come  from  the  heart.  But  the 
seat  of  true  virtue  is  in  the  heart,  and  not  in  the  exte 
rior  ;  he  that  acts  merely  to  please  man,  and  not  to  please 
God,  has  no  real  virtue.  What  are  the  poor  without  reli 
gion  ?  They  are  unable  to  control  their  passions  or  to  bear 
their  hard  lot.  They  see  wealth  around  them,  and,  being 
without  religion,  they  see  no  reason  why  that  wealth  should 
not  be  divided  amongst  them.  Why  should  they  starve, 
while  their  neighbors  roll  in  splendor  and  luxury  ?  They 
know  their  power,  and,  not  having  the  soothing  influence  ^ 
religion  to  restrain  them,  they  use  their  power.  They  have 
done  so  in  France  and  elsewhere  ;  and  if  they  do  not  always 
succeed  in  producing  revolution  and  anarchy,  it  is  only  the 
bayonet  that  prevents  them.  Is  not  the  man  who  has  said, 
"  There  is  no  God,"  on  the  point  of  also  saying,  "  Property 
is  robbery,"  and  "  Lust  is  lawful "  ? 

What  are  children  without  religion  to  their  parents? 
They  are  the  greatest  misfortune  and  the  greatest  curse 
that  can  come  to  them. 

History  informs  us  that  Dion,  the  philosopher,  gave  a 
sharp  reproof  to  Dionysius,  the  tyrant,  on  account  of  his 
cruelty.  Dionysius  felt  highly  offended,  and  resolved  to 
avenge  himself  on  Dion  ;  so  he  took  the  son  of  Dion  pris 
oner — not,  indeed,  for  the  purpose  of  Killing  him,  but  of 


PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL.  16X 

giving  him  up  into  the  hands  of  a  godless  teacher.  After 
the  young  man  had  been  long  enough  under  this  teacher  to 
learn  from  him  everything  that  was  bad  and  impious,  Diony- 
sius  sent  him  back  to  his  father.  Now,  what  object  had 
the  tyrrnt  in  acting  thus  ?  He  foresaw  that  this  corrupted 
son,  by  his  impious  conduct  during  his  whole  lifetime, 
would  cause  his  father  constant  grief  and  sorrow,  so  much 
so  that  he  would  be  for  him  a  lifelong  affliction  and  curse. 
This,  the  tyrant  thought,  was  the  longest  and  greatest  re 
venge  he  could  take  on  Dion  for  having  censured  his  conduct. 

Indeed,  there  is  no  father,  there  is  no  mother,  who  is  not 
thoroughly  convinced  of  the  truth  that  a  child  without  re 
ligion  is  the  greatest  affliction  that  can  befall  parents.  This 
truth  needs  no  illustration. 

What  is  the  man  of  learning  without  religion  ?  He  is 
more  destructive  than  an  army  of  savage  soldiers.  His  sci 
ence  will  prove  more  fatal  than  the  sword  in  the  hands  of 
unprincipled  men;  it  will  prove  more  of  a  demon  than  a 
God.  The  arsenal  of  his  mind  is  stored  with  weapons  to 
sap  alike  the  altar  and  the  throne  ;  to  carry  on  a  war  of  ex 
termination  against  every  holy  principle,  against  the  wel 
fare  and  the  very  existence  of  society  ;  to  spread  among  the 
people  the  worst  of  religions — the  no-religion,  the  religion 
which  pleases  most  hardened  adulterers  and  criminals,  the 
religion  of  irrational  animals.  The  man  of  learning  with 
out  religion  will  do  all  in  his  power  to  preach  licentiousness, 
cruelty,  and  vice  ;  the  substitution  of  the  harlotry  of  the 
passions  for  the  calm  and  elevating  influences  of  reason  and 
religion  ;  to  bring  about  a  generation  without  belief  in  God 
and  immortality,  free  from  all  regard  for  the  invisible — a 
generation  that  looks  upon  this  life  as  their  only  life,  this 
earth  as  their  only  home,  and  the  promotion  of  their  earthly 
interests  and  enjoyments  as  their  only  end ;  a  generation 
that  looks  upon  religion,  marriage,  or  family  and  private 
property  as  the  greatest  enemies  to  worldly  happiness;  a 


164  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL. 

generation  that  substitutes  science  of  this  world  for  religion^ 
a  community  of  goods  for  private  property,  a  communit\ 
of  wives  for  the  private  family  ;  in  other  words,  a  generation 
tli at  substitutes  the  devil  for  Grod,  hell  for  heaven,  sin  and 
vice  for  virtue  and  holiness  of  life. 

Witness  the  current  literature  of  the  day,  which  is  pene- 
tiated  with  the  spirit  of  licentiousness,  from  the  preten 
tious  quarterly  to  the  arrogant  and  flippant  daily  newspaper 
and  the  weekly  and  monthly  publications,  which  are  mostly 
heathen  or  maudlin.  They  express  and  inculcate,  on  the 
one  hand,  stoical,  cold,  and  polished  pride  of  mere  intel 
lect,  or,  on  the  other,  empty  and  wretched  sentimentality, 
irreligious  and  impious  principles.  Some  employ  the  skill 
of  the  engraver  to  caricature  the  institutions  and  offices  of 
the  Christian  religion,  and  others  to  exhibit  the  grossest 
forms  of  vice  and  the  most  distressing  scenes  of  crime  and 
suffering.  The  illustrated  press  has  become  to  us  what  the 
amphitheatre  was  to  the  Eomans  when  men  were  slain, 
women  were  outraged,  and  Christians  given  to  the  lions  to 
please  a  degenerate  populace. 

Who  were  the  leaders  in  the  work  of  destruction  and 
wholesale  butchery  in  the  Reign  of  Terror  ?  The  nurs 
lings  of  lyceums  in  which  the  chaotic  principles  of  the 
"  philosophers  "  were  proclaimed  as  oracles  of  truth. 

Who  are  those  turbulent  revolutionists  who  always  long 
to  erect  the  guillotine  ?  And  who  are  those  secret  conspira 
tors  and  their  myrmidon  partisans  who  have  sworn  to  unify 
Italy  or  lay  it  in  ruins  ?  Men  who  were  taught  to  scout  the 
idea  of  a  God  and  rail  at  religion,  to  consider  Christianity 
as  a  thing  of  the  past ;  men  who  revel  in  wild  chimeras  by 
night,  and  seek  to  realize  their  mad  dreams  by  day. 

What  is  the  physician  without  religion  ?  He  peoples  the 
graveyards,  murders  helpless  innocents,  and  makes  many  of 
his  patients  the  objects  of  his  brutal  lust.  What  does  he  care, 
provided  his  purse  swells  and  his  brutal  passion  is  gratified? 


PORTRAIT  OF  TEE  INFIDEL.  165 

A  gentleman  of  one  of  the  smaller  towns  of  Connecticut 
writes  to  the  Independent  as  follows : 

"I  dare  not  tell  you  what  I  know  (and  ti,e  information 
has  been  given  me  unsolicited)  in  reference  to  the  horrid 
practice  of  the  crime  of  infanticide  in  the  land.  I  do  not 
believe  there  is  a  village  in  the  New  England  States  but 
this  crime  is  practised  more  or  less.  There  are  men  who 
make  it  their  business,  with  medicine  and  instruments,  to 
carry  on  this  slaughter.  And  even  physicians  in  good  and 
regular  standing  in  the  Church  have  practised  it.  Men  are 
making  here,  in  this  highly  moral  State,  three  thousand  and 
four  thousand  dollars  a  year,  in  the  small  towns  alone,  at 
this  business." 

Trustworthy  physicians  assure  us  that  there  are  not  less 
than  sixty  ghouls  in  New  York  City  who  grow  rich  by  kill 
ing  infants.     The  number  has  been   stated  at  six   times 
sixty.     The  author  of  the  book  Satan  in  Society  writes  on 
pages  130,  131  as  follows  :  "  A  medical  writer  of  some  note 
published,  in  1861,  a  pamphlet,  in  which  he  declared  him 
self  the  hero  of  three  hundred  abortions.     He  admits,  in  a 
work  of  his,  that  he  only  found  abortion  necessary  to  save 
the  life  of  the  mother  in  four  instances,  thus  publicly  con 
fessing  that  in  an  immense  number  of  cases  he  has  perform 
ed  the  operation  on  other  grounds;  and  yet,  in  the  face  of 
all  this  self-accusation,  this  rascal  walks  unhung."     These 
infidel  and  immoral  physicians  advertise  publicly,  offering 
their  services  to  enable  people,  as  they  say,  "to  enjoy  the 
nleasures  of  marriage  without  the  burden.5'     They  prepare, 
and  even  publicly  sell  everywhere,  the  drugs  and  implement? 
for  committing  such  murders  of  the  helpless  innocents.    But 
who  are  the  patients  of  those  infidel  physicians,  the  victims 
of  these  ghouls  ?    They  come  from  the  highly  religious  and 
fashionable  as  well  as  from  the  low  and  vicious  circles  of 
society.     Many  of  them,  shocking  to  say,  are  under  the  ao* 
of  fifteen. 


166  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL. 

"How  is  all  this  possible?  "  exclaims  the  good  Christian 
•'  Is  not  affection  for  their  offspring  a  quality  possessed  even 
by  all  animals,  with  rarely  an  exception  ?  Few,  indeed,  of 
the  millions  of  the  animal  creation  seek  to  destroy  their  own 
offspring  after  birth,  or  to  so  neglect  them  as  to  leave  them 
liable  to  destruction  by  other  bodies  or  forces.  How,  then, 
can  a  human  intelligence,  a  mother,  though  she  be  illegiti 
mate,  be  cruel  enough  to  adopt  the  most  revolting  and  bar 
barous  means  of  committing  that  most  unnatural  of  crimes, 
the  crime  of  infanticide?" 

Such  a  crime  is  indeed  most  shocking  for  the  truly  Chris 
tian  woman.  But  since  thousands  of  young  ladies  nowa 
days  are  brought  up  without  religion,  and  are  real  infidels, 
we  need  not  wonder  at  the  fact  that  they  are  a  kind  of 
monster  with  the  intelligence  of  a  man  and  the  cruelty  and 
instincts  of  a  beast.  In  1865  Dr.  Morse  Stewart,  of  Detroit, 
Mich.,  could  not  help  declaring  that  "among  married  per 
sons  the  practice  of  destroying  the  legitimate  results  of 
matrimony  had  become  so  extensive  that  people  of  high  re 
pute  not  only  commit  this  crime,  but  do  not  even  blush  to 
speak  boastingly  among  their  intimates  of  the  deed  and  the 
means  of  accomplishing  it."  "  Several  hundreds  of  Protes 
tant  women,"  says  Dr.  Storer  of  Boston,  "have  personally 
acknowledged  to  us  their  guilt,  against  whom  only  seven 
Catholics;  and  of  these  we  found,  upon  further  enquiry,  that 
all  but  two  were  only  nominally  so,  not  going  to  confession. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Romish  ordinance,  flanked  on 
the  one  hand  by  the  confessional,  and  by  denouncement  and 
excommunication  on  the  other,  has  saved  to  the  world 
thousands  of  infant  lives." — Criminal  Abortion,  p.  74. 

Ah  !  if  God  is  despised,  His  laws  will  be  hated  and  vio 
lated  ;  man  will  see  only  his  own  interests ;  his  neighbor'* 
property  will  only  whet  his  appetite ;  his  neighbor's 
life  will  only  be  a  secondary  consideration ;  he  would,  ac 
cording  to  his  creed,  be  a  fool  not  to  shed  blood  when  his  in- 


PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL.  16? 

terest  requires  it;  his  fellow-men  become  imbued  with  his 
principles — anarchy  succeeds  subordination — vice  takes  the 
place  of  virtue — what  was  sacred  is  profaned — what  was  hon 
orable  becomes  disgraceful — might  becomes  right — treaties 
are  waste  paper — honor  is  an  empty  name — the  most  >  sacred 
obligations  dwindle  down  into  mere  optional  practices — 
youth  despises  age — wisdom  is  folly — subjection  to  authority 
is  laughed  at  as  a  foolish  dream — the  moral  code  itself  soon 
becomes  little  more  than  the  bugbear  of  the  weak-minded — 
crowns  are  trampled  under  foot — thrones  are  overturned, 
nations  steeped  in  blood,  and  republics  swept  from  the  face 
of  the  earth. 

Witness  the  downfall  of  so  many  empires,  kingdoms, 
dynasties,  and  republics  of  the  past.  Witness  the  great  con 
fusion  in  the  governments  of  the  present.  Witness  the 
nameless  abominations  of  the  Communists,  Fourierites,  and 
other  such  vile  and  degraded  fraternities  ;  the  cold-blooded 
murders  and  frightful  suicides  that  fill  so  many  domestic 
hearths  with  grief  and  shame  ;  the  scarcely-concealed  cor 
ruption  of  public  and  professional  men  ;  the  adroit  pecu 
lation  and  wilful  embezzlement  of  the  public  money  ;  those 
monopolizing  speculations  and  voluntary  insolvencies  so 
ruinous  to  the  community  at  large  ;  and,  above  all,  those 
shocking  atrocities  so  common  in  our  country  of  unbelief — 
the  legal  dissolution  of  the  matrimonial  tie,  and  the  wanton 
tampering  of  life  in  its  very  bud;  all  these  are  humiliating 
facts  sufficient  to  convince  any  impartial  mind  that  if  the 
devil  were  presented  with  a  blank  sheet  of  paper,  and  bade 
to  write  on  it  the  most  fatal  gift  to  man,  he  would  simply 
write  one  word — no  religion.  Yes,  it  is  the  infidel,  the 
man  without  religion,  who  makes  war  on  God  and  His 
Christ,  and  says,  with  Lucifer,  " Non  serviam" — I  will  not 
serve  thee.  This  daring  rebel  against  God  and  His  law 
wishes  to  have  the  innocent  children  of  the  Christian  family 
to  teach  them  his  false,  devilish  maxims ;  promises  them, 


168  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL. 

as  Satan,  his  master,  did  the  Saviour,  riches,  and  honors, 
and  power,  if  they  will  but  fall  down  and  worship  him.  He 
is  blind,  and  he  attempts  to  lead  ;  he  is  ignorant,  and  he 
offers  to  teach  and  direct  his  fellow-men.  He  will  not  re 
ceive  the  law,  and  he  claims  the  right  to  give  it.  He  arro 
gates  the  "  higher  law,"  and  "  would  be  as  God."  How  in 
comprehensibly  strange  it  is  that  there  are  so  many  men  and 
women  in  our  day  who  give  ear  to  this  tempter,  instead  of 
saying,  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,"  and  "Thou  art  a 
liar  and  a  cheat  from  the  beginning." 

Were  we  given  to  see  a  devil  and  the  soul  of  an  infidel  at 
the  same  time,  we  should  find  the  sight  of  the  devil  more 
bearable  than  that  of  the  infidel ;  for  St.  James  the 
Apostle  tells  us  that  "  the  devil  believes  and  trembles."* 

As  no  one  can  attain  life  everlasting  without  knowing  and 
living  up  to  the  true  religion,  it  is  evident  that  mankind 
can  have  no  worse  enemies  than  those  who  endeavor  by  word 
and  deed  to  destroy  the  true  knowledge  of  God  and  His 
holy  religion.  Alas !  how  numerous  are  these  enemies  in 
this  country  ! 

How  hateful  these  enemies  of  God  and  of  His  holy  reli 
gion  are  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  may  be  seen  from  the 
frightful  punishments  which  the  Lord  is  accustomed  to  in 
flict  upon  them. 

Let  us  look  at  a  few  instances,  taken  from  the  little  book 
Fate  of  Infidelity,  by  a  converted  infidel. 

"  You  have  undoubtedly  heard  of  Blind  Palmer,  a  pro 
fessed  infidel.  After  he  had  tried  to  lecture  against  Christ 
he  lost  his  sight,  and  died  suddenly  in  Philadelphia,  in  the 
forty-second  year  of  his  age.  You  will  also  have  heard  of  the 
so-called  Orange  County  Infidel  Society.  They  held,  among 
other  tenets,  that  it  was  right  to  indulge  in  lasciviousness, 
and  that  it  was  right  to  regulate  their  conduct  as  their  pro 
pensities  and  appetites  should  dictate;  and  as  these  princi- 
*  Chap.  ii.  19. 


PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL.  169 

pies  were  carried  into  practical  operation  by  some  families 
belonging  to  the  association,  in  one  instance  a  son  held  crim 
inal  intercourse  with  his  mother,  and  publicly  justified  his 
conduct.  The  step-father,  and  husband  to  the  mother  who 
thus  debased  herself,  boldly  avowed  that,  in  his  opinion,  it 
was  morally  right  to  hold  such  intercourse.  The  members 
of  this  impious  society  were  visited  by  God  in  a  remarkable 
manner.  They  all  died,  within  five  years,  in  some  strange 
or  unnatural  manner.  One  of  them  was  seized  with  a  sud 
den  and  violent  illness,  and  in  his  agony  exclaimed  :  '  My 
bowels  are  on  fire — die  I  must,'  and  his  spirit  passed  away. 

"  Dr.  H.,  another  of  the  party,  was  found  dead  in  his 
bed  the  next  morning. 

"  D.  D.,  a  printer,  fell  in  a  fit,  and  died  immediately, 
and  three  others  were  drowned  within  a  few  days. 

"B.  A.,  a  lawyer,  came  to  his  death  by  starvation  ;  and 
C.  C.,  also  educated  for  the  bar,  and  a  man  of  superior  in 
tellectual  endowments,  died  of  want,  hunger,  and  filth. 

"  Another,  who  had  studied  to  be  a  preacher,  suddenly 
disappeared,  but  at  length  his  remains  were  found  fast  in 
the  ice,  where  he  evidently  had  been  for  a  long  time,  as  the 
fowls  of  the  air  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  deep  had  con 
sumed  the  most  of  his  flesh. 

"Joshua  Miller,  notorious  as  a  teacher  of  infidelity,  was 
found  upon  a  stolen  horse,  and  was  shot  by  Col.  J.  Wood- 
hull.  N.  Miller,  his  brother,  who  was  discovered  one  Sun 
day  morning  seated  upon  a  log  playing  cards,  was  also  shot. 

"Benjamin  Kelly  was  shot  off  his  horse  by  a  boy,  the  son 
of  one  Clark,  who  had  been  murdered  by  Kelly ;  his  body 
remained  upon  the  ground  until  his  flesh  had  been  con 
sumed  by  birds. 

"  I.  Smith  committed  suicide  by  stabbing  himself  while 
he  was  in  prison  for  crime. 

"  W.  Smith  was  shot  by  B.  Thorpe  and  others  for  rob 
bery. 


170  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL. 

"  S.  T.  betrayed  his  own  confidential  friend  for  a  few  dol 
lars  ;  his  friend  was  hung,  and  he  was  afterwards  shot  by 
D.  Lancaster. 

"I.  V.  was  shot  by  a  company  of  militia.  I.  D.,  in  a 
drunken  fit,  was  frozen  to  death. 

"I.  B.,  and  I.  Smith,  and  J.  Vervellen,  B.  R.,  and  one 
other  individual,  were  hung  for  heinous  crimes  they  had 
committed.     N.  B.,  W.  T.,  and  W.  H.  were  drowned.    C.  C 
hung  himself.     A.  S.  was  struck  with  an  axe,  and  bled  to 
death. 

"P.  S.  fell  from  his  horse  and  was  killed.  W.  Clark 
drank  himself  to  death  ;  he  was  eaten  by  the  hogs  before 
his  bones  were  found,  which  were  recognized  by  his  cloth 
ing.  J.  A.,  Sr.,  died  in  the  woods,  his  rum- jug  by  his 
side  ;  he  was  not  found  until  a  dog  brought  home  one  of 
his  legs,  which  was  identified  by  his  stocking ;  his  bones 
had  been  picked  by  animals. 

"S.  C.  hung  himself,  and  another  destroyed  himself  by 
taking  laudanum.  D.  D.  was  hired  for  ten  dollars  to  shoot 
a  man,  for  which  offence  he  died  upon  the  gallows. 

"  The  most  of  those  who  survived  were  either  sent  to  the 
State  prison  or  were  publicly  whipped  for  crimes  committed 
against  the  peace  and  dignity  of  the  State." 

This  is  a  brief  history  of  the  Orange  County  "Liberals," 
as  they  called  themselves. 

The  days  of  the  infidel  are  counted.  What  a  fearful  tiling 
it  is  for  him  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  God  in  the  hour  of 
death!  He  knows  this  truth,  and  because  he  knows  it  he 
dies  in  the  fury  of  despair,  and,  as  it  were,  m  the  antici 
pated  torments  of  the  suffering  that  awaits  him  in  hell. 
Witness  Voltaire,  the  famous  infidel  of  France.  He  wished 
to  make  his  confession  at  his  last  hour.  But  the  priest  of 
St.  Sulpice  was  not  able  to  go  to  his  bedside,  because  the 
chamber-door  was  shut  upon  him.  So  Voltaire  died  with 
out  confession.  He  died  in  such  a  terrible  paroxysm  of 


PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL.  171 

fury  and  rage  that  the  marshal  of  Richelieu,  who  was  pres 
ent  at  his  horrible  agoiiy,  exclaimed:  "  Really,  this  sight  is 
sickening;  it  is  insupportable!"  M.  Tronchiu,  Voltaire's 
physician,  says:  "Figure  to  yourself  the  rage  and  fury  of 
Orestes,  and  you'll  still  have  but  a  feeble  image  of  the  fury 
of  Voltaire  in  his  last  agony.  It  would  be  well  if  all  the 
infidels  of  Paris  were  present.  0  the  fine  spectacle  that 
would  have  met  their  eyes!"  Thus  is  fulfilled  in  infidels 
what  God  says  in  holy  Scripture:  "  I  w:ll  laugh  at  the  de 
struction  of  those  who  laughed  at  me  daring  their  life." 

Witness  Tom  Paine.  A  short  time  before  he  died  he  seni 
for  the  Rev.  Father  Fen  wick.  So  Father  Fenwick  went 
in  company  of  Father  Kohlman,  to  see  the  infidel  in  hit 
wretched  condition.  When  they  arrived  at  Paine's  house,  a> 
Greenwich,  his  housekeeper  came  to  the  door  and  enquirec 
whether  they  were  the  Catholic  priests.  "For,"  said  she, 
"Mr.  Paine  has  been  so  annoyed  of  late  by  ministers  o.l 
different  other  denominations  calling  upon  him  that  he  has 
left  express  orders  with  me  to  admit  no  one  to-day  but  the 
clergymen  of  the  Catholic  Church."  Upon  assuring  her 
that  they  were  Catholic  clergymen,  she  opened  the  door 
and  invited  them  to  sit  down  in  the  parlor.  "  Gentlemen/' 
said  she,  "I  really  wish  you  may  succeed  with  Mr.  Paine  ; 
for  he  is  laboring  under  great  distress  of  mind  ever  since  he 
was  informed  by  his  physicians  that  he  cannot  possibly  live, 
and  must  die  shortly.  He  sent  for  you  to-day  because  he 
was  told  that  if  any  one  could  do  him  good  you  might.  He 
is  truly  to  be  pitied.  His  cries,  when  lie  is  left  alone,  are 
truly  heartrending.  '0  Lord!  help  me!'  he  will  exclaim 
during  his  paroxysms  of  distress.  '  God  help,  Jesus  Christ 
help  me!'  repeating  the  same  expressions  without  any  the 
least  variation,  in  a  tone  of  voice  that  would  alarm  the 
house.  Sometimes  he  will  say,  *0  God!  what  have  I  done 
to  suffer  so  much  ? '  Then  shortly  after:  '  If  there  is  a  God, 
what  will  become  of  me?'  Thus  he  will  continue  for  some 


172  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  INFIDEL. 

time,  when  on  a  sudden  he  will  scream  as  if  in  terror  and 
agony,  and  call  out  for  me  by  name.  On  one  of  these  occa 
sions,  which  are  very  frequent,  I  went  to  him  and  enquired 
what  he  wanted.  '*  Stay  with  me,'  he  replied,  'for  God's 
sake;  for  I  cannot  bear  to  be  left  alone.'  I  then  observed 
that  I  could  not  always  be  with  him,  as  I  had  much  to  at 
tend  to  in  the  house.  '  Then,'  said  he,  'send  even  a  child 
'to  stay  with  me;  for  it  is  a  hell  to  be  alone.'  T  never  saw," 
she  concluded,  "a  more  unhappy,  a  more  forsaken  man. 
It  seems  he  cannot  reconcile  himself  to  die. ' 

The  fathers  did  all  in  their  power  to  make  Paine  enter 
into  himself  and  ask  God's  pardon.  But  all  their  endeavors 
were  in  vain.  He  ordered  them  out  of  his  room  in  the 
highest  pitch  of  his  voice,  and  seemed  a  very  maniac  with 
rage  and  madness.  "Let  us  go,"  said  Father  Fen  wick  to 
Father  Kohlman.  "We  have  nothing  more  to  do  here. 
He  seems  to  be  entirely  abandoned  by  God.  Further  words 
are  lost  upon  him.  I  never  before  01  since  beheld  a  more 
hardened  wretch." — Lives  of  the  Catholic  Bishops  of  Amer 
ica,  p.  379,  etc. 

To  the  infidel  and  evil-doer  these  examples  present  matter 
worthy  of  serious  reflection,  while  the  believer  will  recog 
nize  in  them  the  special  judgment  of  God,  which  is  too 
clearly  indicated  to  be  doubted  by  any  honest  mind.  Let 
the  unbeliever  remember  that  the  hour  will  come  when  he 
shall  open  his  eyes  to  see  the  wisdom  of  those  who  have  be 
lieved;  when  he  also  shall  see,  to  his  confusion,  his  own 
madness  in  refusing  to  believe.  "  Oh!  that  he  would  bo 
wise,  and  would  understand  that  there  is  none  that  can  de 
liver  out  of  the  hand  of  the  Lord."  * 
*Deut.  xxxii.88. 


CHAPTER    X. 
THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE — DEATH. 

ONE  day  the  famous  Father  Gerard,  before  he  had  entered 
the  order  of  Friars  Preachers,  read  in  the  fifth  chapter 
of  Genesis  the  following  passage:  "  Adam  lived  nine  hun 
dred  and  thirty  years,  and  died  ;  Seth  lived  nine  hundred 
and  twelve  years,  and  died ;  Euos  lived  nine  hundred  and 
five  years,  and  died  ;  Mathusala  lived  nine  hundred  and 
sixty-nine  years,  and  died."  Here  he  closed  the  book,  and 
exclaimed :  "  Thus  ends  the  life  of  nearly  ten  centuries.  It 
now  appears  as  if  it  never  had  been.  What  a  folly  not  to 
prepare  for  a  happy  death  !  "  Saying  this,  he  abandoned 
the  world  and  entered  a  Dominican  convent,  where  he  died 
in  the  odor  of  sanctity. 

Death  is  indeed  a  powerful  preacher,  a  great  missionary. 
It  was  this  missionary  that  preached  to  the  prodigal.  "  I 
here  perish  with  hunger,"  he  said  to  himself.  The  unhappy 
young  man  had  seen  the  life  of  his  wicked  companions.  Fie 
had  also  witnessed  several  of  them  die  the  death  of  the  im 
pious.  His  life  resembled  theirs.  His  death,  he  thought, 
would  not  be  different  from  theirs,  unless  he  returned  in  due 
time  to  his  father's  house  and  led  a  better  life.  He  had  not 
as  yet  become  quite  an  infidel.  He  had  not  as  yet  forgotten 
his  catechism  altogether.  He  remembered  the  judgment 
and  punishment  that  awaited  the  wicked  in  the  world  to 
come.  So  he  entered  into  himself  and  said:  "  How  many 
hired  servants  in  my  father's  house  abound  with  bread,  and 
I  here  perish  with  hunger  !  I  will  arise,  and  will  go  to 
my  father."  * 

*  Luke  xv.  18. 
178 


174        THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE — DEATH. 

We  too,  if  we  attentively  listen  to  the  voice  of  death, 
will  not  fail  to  form  a  firm  resolution  to  prepare  for  a  happy 
death.  There  are  many  nowadays  who  view  death  merely 
as  a  dissolution  of  organs,  the  decomposition  of  a  worn-out 
machine,  as  an  extinction  of  the  powers  of  life ;  in  other 
words,  they  examine  it  simply  with  the  eye  of  an  infidel 
physician.  It  is  not  strange  at  all  that  these  people  should 
be  insensible  to  the  high  moral  grandeur  which  so  often 
distinguishes  the  closing  scene  of  mortal  life,  or  that 
they  should  be  surprised  or  offended  at  the  importance 
which  religion  ascribes  to  this  last  act  in  the  combat  of  her 
children.  But  far  is  it  from  the  humble  followers  of  a  cru 
cified  Saviour  to  profess  a  scorn  for  death,  which  He  Him 
self  condescended  to  endure.  Death  is  disarmed,  it  is  true  ; 
it  is  vanquished  ;  yet  its  aspect  still  bespeaks  its  origin,  and 
the  eye  naturally  turns  from  it  in  mourning.  "Perhaps 
you  do  not  know,"  says  St.  Leonard,  "  what  sort  of  a  grace 
it  is  to  die  a  happy  death.  It  is  such  a  grace  that  the  great 
est  saints  never  thought  it  was  their  due  for  anything  they 
had  done  for  God.  Even  if  God  had  denied  a  happy 
death  to  His  own  Mother,  He  would  have  done  her  no 
wrong  ;  for  it  is  a  grace  so  great  that  no  one  can  merit  it. 
Though  all  angels  and  men  should  unite  their  power  to  give 
us  a  just  knowledge  of  the  importance  of  a  good  or  bad 
death,  it  would  be  imposssble  for  them  to  do  so,  because 
they  themselves  cannot  adequately  comprehend  the  good  or 
evil  resulting  from  a  good  or  bad  death." 

Death  is  the  end  of  all  our  works,  of  our  earthly  pilgrim 
age  ;  the  harbor  where  we  cast  anchor,  or  are  wrecked  for 
ever.  On  death  depends  eternity;  eternal  happiness  or 
eternal  misery  is  its  necessary  result.  If  we  die  well,  we 
shall  be  saved  eternally  ;  if  we  die  ill,  we  shall  be  eternally 
lost.  We  can  die  but  once.  Hence  the  infinite  importance 
of  this  final  act  of  our  life.  Yes,  the  day  of  death  is  the 
master-day — the  day  that  judges  all  the  others.  It  is  for 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE — DEATH.        175 

this  reason  that  this  crisis  naturally  impresses  every  one 
with  a  feeling  of  awe.  The  pinched  and  pallid  features, 
the  cold  and  clammy  skin,  the  heaving,  laborious,  rattling 
respiration,  and  the  irresistible  force  of  that  disease  which 
no  earthly  remedies  can  overcome,  speak  of  something  ap 
palling,  and  suggest  the  idea  of  an  Almighty  power  mani 
festing  displeasure  and  inflicting  punishment. 

What  especially  increases  the  sufferings  of  the  dying  is 
their  remorse  for  sin  committed,  their  dread  of  the  ap 
proaching  judgment,  and  the  uncertainty  of  eternal  salva 
tion.  At  that  moment  especially  the  devil  puts  forth  all 
his  power  to  gain  the  soul  that  is  passing  into  eternity, 
knowing  that  the  time  is  short  in  which  ho  may  win  her, 
and  that  if  he  lose  her  then  he  has  lost  her  for  ever.  For 
this  reason  it  is  that  the  devil,  who  has  always  tempted  her 
in  life,  will  not  be  satisfied  to  tempt  her  alone  in  death,  but 
calls  companions  to  his  aid.  When  any  one  is  at  the  point 
of  death,  his  house  is  filled  with  demons,  who  unite  to  ac 
complish  his  ruin.  It  is  related  of  St.  Andrew  Avellino 
that,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  several  hundred  devils  came 
to  tempt  him ;  and  we  read  that,  at  the  time  of  his  agony, 
he  had  so  fierce  a  struggle  with  hell  as  to  cause  all  his  good 
brethren  in  religion  who  were  present  to  tremble. 

Now,  the  path  which  we  are  pursuing  leads  us  necessarily 
within  view  of  death ;  this  angel  of  destruction  gains  upon 
us  more  and  more  every  day,  and  he  comes  upon  many  too 
often  unawares.  Happy  are  those  who  are  always  prepared 
to  follow  his  summons.  He  has  two  keys  in  his  hand;  with 
the  one  he  opens  heaven  for  the  good,  and  with  the  other  he 
opens  the  gates  of  hell  for  the  bad.  The  greatest  gain,  there 
fore,  in  this  life  is  to  prepare  ourselves  every  day  for  a  happy 
death. 

One  of  the  means  best  fitted  to  prepare  for  a  happy  death 
is  to  bear  constantly  in  mind  the  certainty  of  death  and  the 
uncertainty  of  the  hour  of  death.  God  knows  this,  and 


176        THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE—  DEATH. 

therefore  He  has  ordered  it  so  that  everythin  garound  us 
should  remind  us  of  death. 

All  nature  tells  that  we  must  die.  If  we  ask  the  sun  that 
shines  in  the  heavens,  he  will  tell  us  that  we  must  die.  The 
sun  rises  in  the  morning,  ascends  to  his  zenith,  and  then 
sinks  slowly  in  the  west,  and  disappears.  Such  is  our  life. 
At  our  birth  we  enter  into  this  world.  We  have  grown  to 
manhood,  to  womanhood ;  we  have,  perhaps,  acquired 
honors,  riches,  and  applauses,  only  to  lose  them  at  the  hour 
of  death ;  we  have  grown  up  only  to  sink  into  the  grave 
and  disappear  from  the  earth  for  ever. 

If  we  ask  the  seasons,  they  will  tell  us  that  just  as  they 
succeed  one  another — just  as  summer  succeeds  spring,  and 
autumn  is  followed  by  winter — so  do  we  now  succeed  our 
forefathers ;  and  when  we  too  shall  have  passed  away,  our 
places  shall  be  occupied  by  others. 

If  we  ask  the  streams  that  hasten  to  the  sea,,  they  will  tell 
us  that  our  life  is  like  a  rapid  stream.  The  first  years  of 
it  were  passed  in  obscurity,  like  the  spring  hidden  in  the 
grass.  The  stream  hastens  on  through  rugged  rocks  and 
gloomy  forests;  it  dashes,  flashing  and  foaming,  over  yawn 
ing  precipices;  it  passes  through  blooming  landscapes,  until 
at  last  it  sinks  into  the  ocean,  never  more  to  return.  Such 
is  our  life — a  life  of  joy  and  of  sorrow,  a  life  of  hope  and  of 
pain,  of  innocence  and  sin.  We  hurry  on,  until  at  last  we 
sink  into  the  silent  ocean  of  eternity,  never  more  to  return. 

If  we  look  around  us  upon  the  earth,  wherever  our  eyes 
fall  we  are  continually  reminded  of  death.  Millions  and 
millions  lived  before  us  upon  earth.  Where  are  they  now  ? 
They  have  sunk  into  the  grave  ;  they  have  mouldered  into 
dust.  Whither  are  those  powerful  nations  gone  whose 
very  name  was  once  respected  and  feared  ?  Where  are  the 
Egyptians,  the  Greeks,  and  the  Romans  ?  They  are  dead. 
They  have  sunk  into  forgetfulness.  Where  are  the  mighty 
kings,  the  valiant  generals,  who  once  caused  the  nations  of 


THE  PRODIGALS  REPENTANCE — DEATH.        17? 

the  earth  to  tremble  ?  The  winds  of  heaven  have  scattered 
their  dust.  Their  long-forgotten  graves  are  trodden  by 
every  passer-by.  Where  are  now  all  those  great  men,  once 
so  renowned  for  their  learning,  their  brilliant  talents,  their 
wonderful  discoveries  ?  Their  bones  have  long  since  moul 
dered  in  the  grave,  and  their  names  are  scarcely  remembered 
by  the  learned.  This  whole  world,  with  all  its  beauty,  is 
but  a  vast  graveyard,  in  which  the  bones  of  countless  gene 
rations  are  slumbering  in  the  dust.  Wherever  we  go,  be  it 
through  the  busy  streets,  the  wide,  extended  plain,  the  tan 
gled  forest,  everywhere  our  foot  treads  on  graves — the 
mould,  the  dust,  the  ashes,  of  six  thousand  years.  If  we  look 
around  us,  wherever  we  will,  everything  we  see  reminds  us  of 
death.  In  the  very  place  in  which  we  now  are  others  were 
before  us.  They  are  now  in  the  grave.  In  a  few  years  we 
shall  follow  them,  and  others  shall  take  our  place. 

If  we  look  around  us  on  the  streets,  others  have  walked 
these  streets  before  us,  and  are  now  dead.  If  we  look 
around  in  our  room,  in  our  workshop,  others  have  lived, 
worked,  and  perhaps  sinned  too,  in  that  very  room,  in  that 
very  workshop,  and  they  are  dead.  Where  are  those  who  in 
former  years  went  with  us  to  the  dance,  to  the  funeral  ? 
Where  are  those  who  sat  beside  us  at  the  wake,  and  laughed 
and  drank  with  us  at  the  wedding  ?  Where  are  the  com 
panions  who  played  with  us  in  innocent,  happy  childhood  ? 
Where  are  those  with  whom  we  sinned,  and  whom  we  led  to 
sin  ?  They  are  dead.  Perhaps  they  died  in  sin.  Perhaps 
they  are  now  burning  in  hell,  while  we  are  resting  here. 
Perhaps  they  are  crying  and  shrieking  in  vain  for  one  mo 
ment  of  time  in  which  to  do  penance,  while  God,  in  His 
infinite  mercy,  now  offers  us  once  more  the  time,  the  grace 
of  repentance.  Yes,  every  moment  of  the  day,  every  mo 
ment  of  the  night,  the  death-rattle  of  a  departed  soul  is 
heard  in  some  part  of  the  world ;  every  day,  on  an  average, 
about  eighty  thousand  persons  die.  Even  now,  while  you 


178        THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE — DEATH. 

are  reading  this,  before  you  have  read  this  sentence,  a  soul 
has  passed  from  this  world,  and  is  standing,  trembling  and 
alone,  in  presence  of  the  Eternal  Judge.  Every  tick  of  the 
clock,  every  swing  of  the  pendulum,  every  throb  of  the 
heart,  tells  us  that  we  are  hastening  to  the  grave.  Day  and 
night,  in  joy  or  in  pain,  in  innocence  or  in  sin,  our  heart  is 
ever  beating  our  funeral  march  to  the  grave.  The  bed  on 
which  we  lie  down  at  night  to  rest  reminds  us  of  our  grave. 
The  sleep  that  closes  our  eyelids  reminds  us  of  that  sleep  of 
death  which  shall  close  our  eyes  upon  this  world  for  ever. 

Death  is  not  merely  a  necessary  consequence  of  our 
frailty.  No  ;  death  is  not  natural.  What  makes  death  so 
especially  terrible  is  that  it  is  not  natural.  Our  body  and 
soul  were  made  to  live  together,  and,  had  our  first  parents 
never  sinned,  we  would  never  have  died.  Death  is  the  pun 
ishment  of  sin.  "  By  one  man  sin  entered  into  this  world, 
and  by  sin  death  :  and  so  death  passed  upon  all  men  in  whom 
all  have  sinned."  *  Yes,  we  must  die ;  we  must  all  die. 
The  young  and  the  old,  the  fair  and  the  homely,  the  rich 
and  the  poor,  the  learned  and  the  ignorant,  the  just  and 
the  sinner,  will  die,  and  die  but  once. 

Upon  that  one  death  depends  our  weal  or  woe  for  all 
eternity.  If  we  die  well,  we  shall  be  for  ever  happy ;  if  we 
die  ill,  we  shall  be  for  ever  miserable.  If  we  die  well,  there 
awaits  us  in  heaven  a  kingdom  of  glory,  youth,  beauty,  wis 
dom,  power,  and  joy  without  end;  but  if  we  die  ill,  tor 
ments  eternal  await  us — the  unutterable  woe,  the  endless 
despair,  of  hell. 

If  we  die  a  bad  death,  it  can  never  be  repaired ;  if  we  die 
once  the  death  of  Judas,  who  died  after  an  unworthy  com 
munion,  we  shall  never  be  able  to  die  the  death  of  a  St. 
Paul.  If  we  have  the  misfortune  of  committing  a  mortal 
sin,  our  soul  is  instantly  dead,  but  there  is  yet  hope  for  us, 
we  may  regain  the  life  of  our  soul  by  worthily  receiving  the 
*  Romans  v.  12. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE — DEATH.        179 

sacraments.  Bat  if  our  body  dies,  our  soul  being  at  the 
time  in  the  state  of  mortal  sin,  there  is  no  hope  for  us ;  our 
soul  remains  in  the  state  of  eternal  death.  If  we  die  a  bad 
death,  we  lose  everything — our  wealth,  our  pleasures,  our 
friends,  our  children  ;  but,  worse  than  all,  we  lose  heaven, 
we  lose  our  soul,  we  lose  our  God  for  ever.  How  important, 
then,  it  is  to  prepare  for  the  hour  of  death,  since  we  can  die 
but  once,  and  upon  that  once  depends  a  whole  eternity  !  If 
we  lose  our  health,  we  send  for  a  physician ;  we  are  willing 
to  take  the  most  bitter  remedies  ;  we  are  willing  to  leave  our 
home,  our  friends,  and  all  that  is  dear  to  us,  and  travel  to 
the  most  distant  climes;  we  are  willing  to  fast  and  abstain ; 
we  are  willing  to  spend  all  that  we  possess  to  gain  our  health. 
And  yet,  if  our  health  is  lost,  we  can  always  hope  to  regain 
it ;  but  if  we  once  die  a  bad  death,  our  case  is  hopeless, 
our  loss  can  never  be  repaired. 

If  we  lose  our  property  by  some  accident,  by  carelessness 
or  mismanagement,  we  may  regain  it  by  prudent  economy, 
by  energy  and  industry ;  but  if  we  have  once  lost  our  soul  by 
a  bad  death,  no  prudence,  no  economy,  no  labor,  will  avail 
as ;  for  once  lost,  for  ever  lost. 

If  we  are  engaged  in  an  important  lawsuit,  what  pains  do 
we  not  take  to  succeed  !  We  rest  neither  day  nor  night;  we 
examine  our  papers,  our  deeds,  over  and  over.  We  spend 
large  sums  of  money  in  securing  witnesses,  bribing  judges 
and  lawyers,  and  no  stone  is  left  unturned  that  may  aid  us 
in  gaining  our  ends ;  yet  if  we  lose  that  case,  we  may  hope  to 
gain  it  at  some  other  court.  But  if  once  our  soul  is  lost  by  a 
bad  death,  no  hope  is  left  us ;  for  no  second  trial  is  possible. 

We  know  that  we  must  die  some  time  or  other ;  yet 
what  pains  do  we  not  take  to  escape  death,  or  to  keep  death 
off  as  long  as  possible!  If  we  lose  our  life,  we  may  still  hope 
to  live  eternally  in  the  next  world ;  but  if  we  once  lose  oui 
soul  by  a  bad  death,  there  is  no  hope  for  us,  no  life,  nc 
happiness. 


180        THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE— DEATH. 

Where  shall  we  die?    In  the  church  of  God?    That  is 
not  impossible.     In  St.  James's  Church,  Baltimore,  in  Feb 
ruary,  1870,  a  woman  received  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  and 
died  whilst  the  priest  was  speaking.     Father  Schaffleutner 
died  suddenly  in  Buffalo  during  Vespers.     We  may  die  on 
the  street,  on  our  way  home,  as  Bishop  Neumann  did.     We 
may  die  in  the  cars.     One  may  die  in  a  tavern,  while  his 
wicked  companions  are  standing  around  him,  with  the  sound 
of  blasphemy  ringing  in  his  ears.     There  shall  Jesus  Christ 
meet  him,  and,  if  in  sin,  he  will  condemn  him  to  hell. 
One  may  die  in  the  house  of    ill-fame.      One   may  die 
going  home  in  a  state  of  intoxication.     When  shall  we 
die?     Shall  it  be  next  year?  shall  it  be  next  week?  shall 
it  be  this  very  night?    How  many  went  to  bed  hale  and 
hearty,  and  in  the  morning  were  dead!     When  the  cap 
tains  of  Israel  were  assembled  together  at  Ramoth  Galaad, 
&  messenger  from  Eliseus  stood  in  the  midst,  and  said: 
"  I  have  a  message  to  thee,  0  prince! "    And  they  all  asked 
eagerly:  "  To  which  one  of  us  all  ?  "    Now,  the  message  for 
each  of  us   is  that  which   the  Prophet  Jeremias  sent  to 
Hananias:    "This  year  thou   shalt   die."*    How  many  of 
those   who  a  year  ago  were  alive  are  now  dead!      How 
many  of  those  who   are    alive  now   will   be   dead   before 
another  year  has  passed!    Now  let  us  put  the  question  to 
ourselves  :   Are  we  at  this  moment  in  the  state  in  which 
we  would  wish  to  be  at  the  hour  of  our  death?     Who 
dares  say  that  he  is  ?    When,  then,  shall  we  be  prepared 
for  death  ? 

Some  say  that  there  is  no  danger.  But  just  there  lies  the 
greatest  danger.  Jesus  Christ  assures  us  that  death  will 
come  upon  us  when  we  least  expect  it.  Let  us  mark  well 
the  words.  When  the  devil,  that  father  of  lies,  first 
tempted  our  first  parents,  he  said  to  them:  "Oh!  no;  there 
is  no  danger.  You  shall  not  dir."  He  knows  very  well 
*  Jer.  xxviii.  16. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE — DEATH.        181 

that  if  lie  were  to  speak  thus  to  us  now  we  would  not  be 
lieve  him,  Therefore  he  no  longer  says,  "  You  shall  not 
die";  but  he  says,  "You  will  not  die  soon."  The  devil 
tells  us  that  there  is  no  danger,  there  is  time  enough,  whilst 
Jesus  Christ  tells  us  that  there  is  danger.  "  Watch  ye 
and  pray,  for  death  will  come  when  you  least  expect  it." 
Deatli  will  come  like  a  thief  in  the  night.  Whom  shall  we 
believe,  Jesus  Christ  or  the  devil  ?  Death  spares  no  one. 
Whether  our  conscience  be  in  order  or  not,  death  will  not 
spare  us.  We  may  or  may  not  be  necessary  to  our  family  ; 
death  will  not  respect  us.  Death  spares  not  the  suckling 
babe  that  nestles  in  the  arms  of  its  mother.  Death  strikes 
down  alike  the  strong,  the  young  man,  and  the  hoary-headed 
sire ;  death  reveres  neither  the  golden  locks  of  youthful 
beauty  nor  the  silvery  hairs  of  drooping  old  age.  "  Death," 
says  the  proverb,  "  is  the  echo  of  life " ;  and  the  echo,  as 
we  know,  always  repeats  the  very  words  that  are  uttered, 
and  nothing  else.  So  death  will  be  the  exact  echo,  the  very 
reflex,  of  our  life.  "  Death,"  says  the  Holy  Ghost,  "  is  the 
time  of  harvest."  "Whatever  a  man  has  sown  during  life, 
that  shall  he  reap  at  the  hour  of  death.  *  If,  then,  during  life 
we  sow  in  our  hearts  sinful  thoughts  and  desires,  and  defile 
our  soul  by  immodest  words  and  actions,  by  dishonesty  and 
drunkenness,  we  shall  reap  the  frightful  consequences  of 
these  sins  at  the  dread  hour  of  death.  Yes,  we  shall  die 
as  we  have  lived.  Some  say  that  they  hope  to  die  a  good 
death  ;  but  what  does  to  die  a  good  death  mean?  To  die  a 
good  death  means  to  die  without  sin;  to  die  without  any 
affection  for  sin  or  for  sinful  pleasures;  to  die  after  having 
satisfied  God's  justice  by  worthy  penance.  To  die  a  good 
death  means  to  die  with  the  firm  resolution  rather  to  endure 
all  the  torments  of  the  martyrs  than  wilfully  to  offend  God 
again  by  another  mortal  sin.  It  means  to  die  with  firm 
faith,  with  unwavering  hope,  with  sincere  charity.  We 
*  Gal.  vi.  8. 


182        THE  PRODIGAL'S  R&*EK'  ANCE — DEATH. 

must,  then,  love  God  above  all  things,  and  our  neighbor  as 
ourselves.  Now,  suppose  we  were  to  die  at  this  hour; 
should  we  have  all  these  good  dispositions  ?  Who  shall  say 
yes  ?  Let  us  rest  assured  that  at  the  hour  of  death  we  shall 
not  be  better  disposed  than  we  are  now. 

It  is  a  certain  truth  that  no  matter  how  good  or  virtuous 
we  may  be  now,  we  shall  not  be  saved  without  the  grace  of 
final  perseverance,  the  grace  of  a  happy  death.  But  it  is 
also  a  certain  truth — a  truth  that  we  know  with  the  cer 
tainty  of  faith — that  no  matter  how  pure,  how  holy,  our  life 
may  be,  we  can  never  merit  the  grace  of  a  happy  death. 
Though  we  were  to  spend  our  whole  life  in  the  performance 
of  good  works,  in  penances,  in  liberal  alms;  though  we  were 
to  perform  all  the  good  works  of  all  the  saints  in  heaven, 
we  could  nevertheless  not  merit  the  grace  of  a  happy  death. 
This  is  indeed  a  terrible  truth,  and  the  more  terrible  because 
it  is  so  absolutely  certain.  If  the  greatest  saints,  even  the 
most  austere  penitents,  that  ever  lived,  cannot  by  all  their 
good  works  merit  the  grace  of  a  happy  death,  how  can  we 
hope  for  such  a  grace — we  whose  whole  life  has  been  spent 
in  sin,  and  who  will  not  make  a  single  sacrifice,  a  singlo 
effort,  to  obtain  that  grace  ?  Will  God  crown  us  with  eternal 
glory  because  we  have  spent  our  whole  life  in  offending 
Him  ?  No ;  God  is  just.  He  will  render  to  every  one  ac 
cording  to  his  works. 

The  great  St.  Jerome  was  one  of  the  most  learned  as  well 
as  one  of  the  most  austere  penitents  that  ever  lived.  He 
was  stretched  on  his  death-bed.  That  solemn  moment  had 
come  when  men  see  things  in  their  true  light,  without  dis 
guise,  without  passion.  His  beloved  disciples  stood  weep 
ing  around  him ;  they  conjured  him  to  tell  them  something 
of  which  he  was  most  firmly  convinced,  and  which  they 
would  always  remember  as  his  dying  words.  "Ah!  my 
children,"  said  the  dying  saint,  "  I  am  at  the  point  of  death  • 
a  few  moments  more,  and  1  shall  appear  before  my  Judge. 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE— DEATH.        183 

i  declare  to  you,  then,  it  is  my  firm,  unwavering  conviction, 
that  out  of  a  hundred  thousand  persons  who  have  lived  in 
sin  till  the  hour  of  death,  scarcely  one  is  saved.  Yes,  my 
children,  I  do  not  exaggerate  ;  my  mind  is  not  wandering, 
my  imagination  is  not  disturbed  by  sickness  or  by  approach 
of  death.  I  know  what  I  am  saying,  and  I  declare  to  you 
that  it  is  my  firm,  unwavering  conviction — a  conviction 
strengthened  by  a  long  experience  of  over  fifty  years — that 
out  of  a  hundred  thousand  persons  that  continue  in  sin 
till  the  hour  of  death,  scarcely  one  is  saved." 

Ah  !  are  we  not  convinced  ?  Do  we  want  other  proofs  still  ? 
Father  Thomas  Burke,  the  great  Dominican  preacher,  relates 
in  one  of  his  lectures  that  he  was  once  called  to  assist  a  dy 
ing  man — dying  after  a  long  life  of  sin.  "  The  man  had  sense 
enough  to  sit  up  in  the  bed  and  say,  '  You  are  a  priest  ? ' 
I  said,  'Yes,  I  am.'  <0hl'  he  said,  'I  am  glad  of  it. 
Tell  me :  I  want  to  know  one  thing.  I  want  to  know  if 
you  have  the  Blessed  Sacrament  with  you  ? '  '  I  have.'  The 
moment  I  said  so  he  sprang  out  of  the  bed  on  to  the  floor, 
kicked,  and  plunged,  and  roared  like  a  maniac  !  '  Oh  ! 
take  away  that  God  !  take  away  that  God  !  That  man  has 
God  with  him.  There  is  no  God  for  me  !'  Oh  !  I  protest 
to  you  he  was  dead  before  I  left  the  room,  crying  out  to  the 
last,  <  There  is  no  God  for  me  ! '  " 

Does  any  one  of  us  wish  to  die  thus  ?  But  if  we  perse- 
vci'e  in  sin  up  to  the  last  moment  of  our  lives,  we  have  just 
as  little  hope  for  salvation.  And  why  ?  Will  not  God  give 
us  His  grace  ?  Yes,  God  will  give  sufficient  grace  to  every 
one,  no  matter  how  hardened,  how  wicked,  he  may  be.  But 
to  give  up  a  wicked  habit  instantly,  after  a  long  life  of  sin, 
requires  not  only  ordinary  grace,  but  an  extraordinary,  a 
miraculous  grace ;  and  this  grace  God  is  not  bound  to  give 
to  any  one.  God  offers  us  this  grace  now.  He  has  spoken 
to  us  in  this  hour.  He  calls  us  now  to  repentance.  Let  us 
obey  His  voice.  Let  us  not  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  his  call. 


1 84        THE  PR  ODI GAL'S  REPENTANCE—  DEA  TH. 

Or  do  we  think  that  he  will  offer  his  grace  to  us  at  the  hoiu 
of  death  ?  Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves.  God  is  not  to  be 
mocked.  Our  Lord  himself  tells  us  what  will  happen  to  us 
at  that  hour  :  "  You  shall  seek  me.  and  you  shall  not  find 
me,  and  you  shall  die  in  your  sins." 

To  prepare,  then,  in  time  for  a  good  death,  is  the  most  im 
portant  of  all  our  duties.  It  is,  indeed,  the  only  important 
duty.  And  yet,  strange  to  say,  it  is  just  this  duty  which  is 
generally  the  most  neglected.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  one 
day  a  holy  missionary  commenced  his  sermon  in  the  following 
manner:  "  My  brethren,  I  have  to  tell  you  great,  very  great 
news  ;  and  the  news  I  have  to  tell  you  is  that — "  At  these 
words  all  looked  at  him  in  amazement  and  listened  with 
breathless  attention.  "  My  brethren,"  continued  the  holy 
priest,  "you  must  all  die,  and,  after  death,  you  shall  be 
judged  with  unerring  justice."  At  these  words  the  audi 
ence  smiled,  and  shrugged  their  shoulders,  and  looked  disap 
pointed.  The  priest  looked  around  with  an  air  of  astonish 
ment,  and  said :  "  What !  my  brethren,  you  look  disappoint  - 
ed.  You  think,  perhaps,  that  I  have  deceived  you.  No,  my 
brethren,  it  is  you  who  have  deceived  me.  You  live  in  such 
a  way  as  if  you  had  never  heard  of  death,  as  if  you  were 
never  to  die.  My  brethren,  when  I  look  around  upon  this 
world  at  the  present  day;  when  I  see  how  men  live,  how 
eagerly  they  labor  to  acquire  wealth,  to  enjoy  honors  and 
pleasures — when  I  see  all  this,  I  am  tempted  to  believe  that 
they  do  not  know  that  they  have  to  die,  and  that  after 
death  they  shall  be  judged  with  a  strict,  unerring  justice.' 

Indeed,  the  holy  missionary  was  right.  Ask  that  careless 
Catholic  who  neglects  Mass  so  often  on  Sundays  and  holy- 
days,  who  works  on  holydays  without  necessity,  who  neg 
lects  the  sacraments  from  year  to  year — has  he  ever  thought 
that  he  must  die  and  render  a  strict  account  to  God  of  all 
the  graces  he  has  neglected  and  despised  ?  Ask  that  man 
who  has  been  for  so  many  years  a  member  of  a  secret  soci- 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE— DEATH.        185 

ety  which  has  been  condemned  by  God  and  His  Church- 
has  he  ever  thought  that  he  must  die,  that  death  will  tear 
him  apart  from  those  companions  of  darkness,  for  whose 
sake  he  sacrificed  his  God,  his  hope,  his  heaven? 

Ask  that  father  and  mother  who  neglect  their  children's 
education,  who  neglect  to  send  them  to  Catholic  schools,  to 
catechism,  to  Mass  on  Sundays  and  holydays— have  they 
ever  thought  of  death,  and  of  the  terrible  account  they 
have  to  give  of  the  children  whom  God  has  confided  to  their 
care  ?  Ask  those  parents  who  scandalize  those  little  ones 
by  neglecting  their  religious  duties  for  so  many  years,  by 
drunkenness,  by  shameful  conduct— have  they  ever  thought 
that  they  must  die  ? 

Ask  that  revengeful  woman,  whose  heart  is  full  of  bitter 
hatred  towards  her  neighbor,  who  will  not  forgive  or  even 
salute  those  who  have  offended  her— has  she  not  forgotten 
that  she  must  die;  that  after  death  she  shall  be  judged 
without  mercy,  as  she  has  shown  no  mercy  ?  And  that  un 
happy  drunkard— has  he  thought  that  he  must  die  ?  Did 
he  think,  when  he  broke  his  most  solemn  promise,  of  death 
and  of  the  unutterable  torments  reserved  for  drunkards  in 

hell? 

And  that  dishonest  man,  who  cheated  his  neighbor  by 
unjust  speculations,  by  filching  from  his  employers— has  he 
thought  that  death  shall  snatch  him  away  from  his  ill-gotten 
wealth,  that  blood-money,  for  which  he  has  bartered  away 
his  immortal  soul  ?  Has  he  thought  that  death  would 
hurry  him,  with  his  soul  defiled  by  injustice,  before  the 
awful  judgment-seat  of  God  ?  How  often  has  he  thought 
of  this?  'And  that  man  who  has  grown  rich  by  selling 
liquor  to  drunkards,  he  who  steals  the  clothes  from  the 
drunkard's  wife,  he  who  steals  the  bread  from  the  mouth 
of  his  starving  children— has  he  thought  of  this  ? 

Ask  also  that  vain,  foolish  girl  who  has  sold  her  inno 
cence  for  a  fine  dress,  a  pretty  ring,  whether  she  has  thought 


ISO         THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE — DEATH. 

Hi  at  she  must  die?  She  received  in  baptism  the  snow- 
white  robe  of  virginal  innocence  ;  see  how  she  has  defiled  it. 
She  has  lost  the  glorious  crown  which  is  reserved  for  the 
virgins  in  heaven.  Has  she  thought  that  she  must  die  and 
appear  before  her  heavenly  Bridegroom  with  soul  defiled 
and  innocence  lost  ?  Unhappy  creature  !  When  she 
committed  that  enormous  crime,  and  thought  of  destroying 
the  fruit  of  her  crime,  did  she  think  that  she  would  have 
to  die  ?  Did  she  think,  when  she  committed  those  secret 
sins,  so  abominable  before  God  and  his  holy  angels,  that 
she  would  have  to  die,  and  that  after  death  she  would  stand 
branded  with  all  her  shameful  thoughts,  desires,  and  deeds, 
a  trembling  culprit,  before  her  eternal  Judge  ?  Did  she 
think  of  this  ?  Ask  those  husbands  and  wives  did  they 
think  of  death  when  they  committed,  under  the  veil  of 
marriage,  so  many  abominable  and  unnatural  crimes,  by 
preventing  human  life  or  murdering  the  poor  helpless 
being  before  it  could  see  the  blessed  light  of  day — did  they 
think  that  they  had  to  die,  and,  after  death,  render  a  terri 
ble  account  of  the  holy  sacrament  of  marriage,  which  they 
have  so  often  abused  and  desecrated  ? 

Have  those  men  or  those  women  who  so  often  injure  their 
neighbor's  character  by  calumny,  who  so  often  defile  their 
souls  and  the  souls  of  their  fellows  by  shameful  conduct, 
immodest  discourses,  by  those  words  of  double  meaning — have 
they  thought  that  they  must  die,  and  after  death  render  a 
strict  account  of  every  immodest,  every  uncharitable,  every 
blasphemous  word,  nay,  even  of  every  idle  word  uttered  ? 
[lave  they  thought  seriously  of  this  ? 

And  the  unhappy  soul  which  has  made  so  many 
sacrilegious  confessions,  so  many  unworthy  communions  ; 
which  has  so  long  concealed  that  secret  sin  that  weighs 
so  heavily  on  its  conscience — has  it  thought  of  death  ? 
Has  it  thought  that  after  death  it  will  have  to  give 
a  fearful  account  of  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  which 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  KAPENTAXCE—  DEATH.         187 

it  h?o  so  often  polluted  ?  What  must  be  the  anguish  of 
*iich  men  when  der-th  comes  and  tears  them  away  in  an 
instant  from  all  the  objects  of  their  sinful  passions  !  What 
will  it  avail  that  dying  man,  that  dying  woman,  to  Lave 
sacrificed  their  bojior,  renounced  their  faith,  sold  their 
hope  of  heaven  and  God,  all  to  gratify  the  concupiscence  of 
the  flesh  ! 

What  will  it  avail  that  dying  man  to  have  acquired  so 
much  wealth  by  so  many  sacrifices  and  by  the  commission 
of  so  many  grievous  sins  !  Other  hands  shall  spend  it  that 
have  not  labored  for  it.  Others  shall  enjoy  that  wealth, 
whilst  he  who  sold  his  soul  to  acquire  it  is  rotting  in  the 
grave,  and  his  soul  is  perhaps  burning  in  hell.  What  will 
it  avail  that  dying  man  to  have  taken  so  many  unlawful 
oaths  ?  What  will  it  avail  him  now  to  have  been  a  member 
of  a  secret  society  ?  He  has  been  a  shrewd  business  man ; 
he  knew  how  to  make  money,  and  how  to  keep  it  too ;  what 
will  that  knowledge  avail  him  now  ? 

There  was  once  a  miser  who  had  grown  rich  by  fraud 
and  perjury.  He  loved  his  money  more  than  his  God.  At 
last  he  fell  dangerously  ill.  When  he  saw  that  his  last 
moment  had  come,  he  ordered  his  servants  to  bring  before 
him  all  his  money  and  jewels.  He  gazed  at  his  riches  with 
weeping  eyes  ;  he  touched  his  gold  and  jewels  with  his 
trembling  hands.  "Ah!  my  treasures,"  he  cried,  "my 
gold,  my  jewels,  must  I,  then,  leave  you  ?  Wrho  shall  pos 
sess  you  when  I  am  dead  ?  Woe  is  me  !  I  have  labored  so 
hard,  I  have  suffered  so  long,  to  call  you  mine,  and  now  I 
must  leave  you  for  ever."  And  in  the  midst  of  these 
lamentations  he  died. 

Now  we  have  time  to  love  and  serve  God,  to  acquire  new 
merits,  to  acquire  an  increase  of  glory  in  heaven ;  but  when 
once  death  comes,  we  can  acquire  no  more  merits.  Death  is 
that  dark  night  in  which  no  one  can  labor.  Just  as  death 
finds  us,  so  we  shall  be  throughout  all  eternity.  We  have 


188        THE  PR ODIGA L'S  REPENTANCE — DEA  TH. 

yet  time  to  be  reconciled  with  our  enemies  ;  but  when  death 
comes,  we  shall  perhaps  long  for  one  moment  in  which  to 
ask  forgiveness  of  those  whom  we  have  offended,  and  that 
moment  shall  not  be  given  us.  Now  we  have  time  to  restore 
the  property  which  we  have  stolen,  to  restore  the  good  name 
of  those  whom  we  have  injured,  to  repair  all  the  evil  we  have 
done,  the  scandals  we  have  occasioned;  but  when  the  hour 
of  death  comes,  we  may  yearn  and  pray  for  a  few  years  more, 
or  even  a  few  days,  to  repair  all  the  evils  of  a  long  life  of 
sin,  and  those  few  years,  those  few  days,  shall  not  be  granted 
us.  "  Ah!  what  time  is  it ?  "  asked  a  dying  sinner  of  those 
around  him.  "It  is  just  midnight."  was  the  answer. 
"  Midnight! "  he  shrieked  in  a  voice  of  despair.  "  Midnight! 
Ah  !  then  my  hour  has  come,  and  never-ending  woe  awaits 
me!"  And  so  he  died. 

Suppose  God  were  to  send  us  this  moment  an  angel  from 
heaven  to  announce  to  us  that  we  were  to  die  to-morrow 
or  that  we  were  to  die  this  very  night.  What  a  sudden 
change  would  come  over  us  all!  Every  face  would  turn 
pale,  every  heart  would  throb  with  terror.  Nothing  but 
sighs,  and  groans,  and  fervent  prayers  would  be  heard.  We 
would  hasten  eagerly  to  the  feet  of  the  priest  to  confess  our 
sins  and  cleanse  our  soul  by  tears  of  true  repentance.  Then 
we  would  be  willing  to  perform  any  penance,  to  make  any 
sacrifice,  in  order  to  save  our  souls  and  to  be  well  prepared 
to  meet  our  Judge.  Then  indeed  we  would  gladly  give 
back  that  money,  that  property,  we  possess  unjustly.  Then 
we  would  eagerly  give  up  the  company  of  that  young  man, 
that  young  woman,  that  so  often  caused  us  to  commit  sin. 
Then  we  would  willingly  promise  to  give  up  drunkenness, 
and  to  keep  away  from  balls,  theatres,  and  other  sinful 
places  of  amusement.  We  would  be  willing  to  do  whatever 
the  priest  would  tell  us,  and  would  still  fear  that  we  had 
not  done  enough. 

Let  us  do  all  this  now,  while  we  have  yet  time,  in  order 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  REPENTANCE — DEATH.        189 

to  be  prepared  to  obey  the  summons  of  death  at  whatever 
moment  it  conies  ;  and  death  instead  of  being  a  terror  and 
dread  end  of  all  that  we  love  and  cherish,  will  be  the  true 
dawn  of  the  brighter  and  the  better  day,  the  opening  of  life 
eternal,  the  sweet,  short,  and  blessed  passage  into  the  bosom 
of  our  Father  and  our  God. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT. 

ST.  JOHN  CLIMACHUS  tells  the  story  of  an  old  hermit 
who  -fell  dangerously  ill.  Some  hours  before  his  death 
he  seemed  to  be  beside  himself.  He  glanced  fearfully 
around  on  every  side,  like  one  who  is  surrounded  by  ene 
mies.  The  dying  man  imagined  himself  before  a  tribunal, 
answering  accusations  broiigh  t  against  him.  The  bystanders 
saw  no  one,  but  they  heard  distinctly  what  was  said.  "It 
is  true,"  said  the  hermit,  "  that  I  committed  that  sin;  but 
I  confessed  it,  and  fasted  three  years  for  it  on  bread  and 
water.  .  .  .  That  is  true,  too;  I  acknowledge  it.  But 
I  confessed  it  and  did  penance  for  it.  As  for  that  other 
sin,  I  did  not  commit  it,  and  you  accuse  me  falsely.  .  .  . 
There,  I  have  no  excuse  to  offer — I  am  guilty  of  that  sin; 
but  I  throw  myself  on  the  mercy  of  God." 

The  rigorous  account  which  was  demanded  of  this  old 
hermit  in  the  hour  of  his  death  is  sufficient  to  alarm  us  all. 
Which  of  us  has  led  a  life  of  penance  for  forty  years  ?  All 
of  us,  it  is  true,  can  say,  "  I  have  committed  such  and  such 
a  sin  " ;  but  which  of  us  can  say  with  the  hermit,  "  I  have 
confessed  it,  and  fasted  three  years  for  it  on  bread  and 
water  "  ?  Which  of  us,  then,  can  natter  himself  with  having 
no  reason  to  fear  the  judgment  of  God  ? 

The  hour  of  death  is,  in  the  history  of  every  immortal 
soul,  the  hour  which  is  of  all  others  the  most  important, 
the  most  awful.  In  that  hour  the  veil  of  eternity  is  drawn 
aside,  and  the  soul  stands  for  the  first  time  trembling  and 
alone  in  the  presence  of  her  Maker.  Two  eternities  are  be- 

190 


THE  PR  on  i  GAL  JUD  GED — PA  R  TICULAR  JUD  GHENT.     191 

fore  her;  the  one  an  eternity  of  happiness,  the  other  an 
eternity  of  woe.  In  the  very  moment  after  death,  in  the 
very  chamber  of  death,  whilst  the  friends  are  dressing  the 
body  for  the  grave,  while  they  are  closing  the  eyes,  and 
bandaging  the  mouth,  and  arranging  the  limbs  in  order  for 
burial,  the  soul  has  heard  her  eternal  doom  pronounced — 
to  heaven  or  to  hell. 

If  the  soul  is  adjudged  to  heaven,  she  shall  be  for  ever 
happy  ;  if  she  is  doomed  to  hell,  all  the  prayers  in  the  world 
can  benefit  her  nothing.  This  decisive  moment  shall  come 
for  every  one  of  us,  and  it  is  our  most  sacred  duty  to  pre 
pare  well  for  it  while  we  have  yet  time. 

St.  Paul  assures  us  that,  if  we  judge  ourselves,  we  shall  not 
be  judged.  The  prodigal  son  was  not  judged  by  his  father, 
because  he  judged  himself.  He  accused  himself  of  all  his 
crimes.  "  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  before 
thee."  He  sentenced  himself  to  just  punishments.  "lam 
not  now  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son  ;  make  me  as  one  of  thy 
hired  servants."  This  self-accusation  and  self-judgment 
saved  him.  His  father  forgave  and  received  him  with  un 
speakable  joy.  "  Let  us  eat  and  make  merry.  This,  my 
son,  was  lost  and  is  found  again."  If  we  wish  to  meet  Jesup 
Christ  as  a  mild  judge,  we  must  imitate  the  example  of  the 
prodigal ;  we  must  judge  and  accuse  ourselves  sincerely, 
with  an  upright  heart.  If  we  wish  to  stand  with  hope  and 
courage  before  the  tribunal  of  Jesus  Christ,  we  must  not 
neglect  now  to  approach  the  tribunal  of  mercy  which  Jesus 
Christ  Himself  has  established. 

At  the  hour  of  death  our  accusers  will  be  the  demon  and 
those  unhappy  souls  which  we  may  have  ruined  by  our  bad 
example.  In  the  tribunal  of  penance  we  have  no  other  ac 
cuser  but  ourselves.  There  our  guardian  angel  is  beside  us, 
and  awaits  our  sentence,  not  with  sorrow,  but  with  joy. 
There  Jesus  Christ  is  present,  not  as  an  angry  Judge,  but  as 
a  merciful  Saviour.  At  death,  if  we  are  in  mortal  sin,  the 


192     THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT. 

sentence  will  infallibly  be,  "  I  condemn  thee  for  thy  sins." 
But  here,  if  we  are  truly  repentant,  the  sentence  will  al 
ways  be,  "  I  absolve  thee  from  thy  sins."  Let  us  take  the 
case  of  a  Catholic  who,  during  life,  has  been  careless  in  the 
practice  of  his  religious  duties.  There  are  thousands  such 
everywhere.  This  man  thought  very  seldom  of  death  ;  but 
death  has  come  at  last,  and,  whether  he  is  ready  or  not,  he 
must  die.  His  friends  are  weeping  around  him,  but  their 
tears  can  not  bring  him  back.  He  struggles  with  death,  but 
his  struggles  are  in  vain  ;  death  is  inexorable ;  there  is  no 
escape.  And  now  he  has  become  speechless  ;  his  eyes  have 
grown  dim,  the  cold  sweat  of  death  is  on  his  brow,  the 
death-rattle  is  in  his  throat ;  one  moment  more,  and  he  is  a 
corpse.  Yes,  he  is  dead,  and  his  soul  is  in  eternity. 

Has  it  not  happened  to  us  sometimes  to  be  talidng  quite 
inconsiderately,  and  on  a  sudden  to  find  that  others  were 
listening  before  whom  we  would  not  have  spoken  thus  for 
all  the  world  ?  Something  of  this  kind,  but  far  more  terri 
ble,  will  be  the  first  feeling  of  a  sinner  as  he  enters  into 
eternity.  Let  us  follow  his  soul.  The  voice  of  his  friends 
have  died  on  his  ear,  and  he  begins  to  hear  other  voices.  He 
no  longer  sees  the  people  in  the  room  ;  they  have  vanished 
from  his  sight,  and  he  now  sees  others  in  their  stead.  Who 
is  it  that  he  sees  standing  at  the  foot  of  his  bed  ?  A  neigh 
bor  was  standing  there  just  now,  but  this  is  some  one  else. 
It  is  a  form,  beautiful  indeed,  but  yet  majestic  and  terrible. 
It  is  some  one  he  had  never  seen  before  ;  and  yet  he  ought  to 
know  that  face,  for  it  seems  familiar  to  him.  It  is  the  very 
face  he  had  so  often  seen  in  church.  It  is  the  face  his 
mother  looked  upon  as  she  was  dying.  It  is  the  face  we  shall 
look  upon  when  we  die.  Yes,  it  is  Jesus  Christ.  He  recog 
nizes  that  face  now ;  it  is  the  very  same,  and  yet  how  differ 
ent  !  When  he  saw  that  face  in  pictures,  it  was  crowned 
with  thorns  ;  it  is  now  crowned  with  a  diadem  of  matchless 
glory.  When  he  beheld  that  form  in  the  church,  it  was 


THE  PR  ODIGAL  JUD  GED  -PA  R  TICULAR  JUD  GMENT.     1 93 

naked  and  bleeding  on  the  cross ;  it  is  now  bdght  as  the 
sun,  and  clothed  with  garments  of  royal  splendor.  Jesus  is 
looking  at  him  with  eyes  of  fire,  and  the  unhappy  mar 
turns  away  from  those  piercing  eyes  to  find  that  there  are 
other  forms  beside  him. 

There  stands  one  at  his  right  hand,  and  another  on  his 
left.  Who  are  they  ?  He  ought  to  know  them,  for  they 
know  more  of  him  than  even  he  himself  does.  When  he 
was  born,  they  stood  beside  him,  and  during  his  whole  life, 
of  good  or  ill,  they  never  deserted  him.  They  watched 
him  in  his  fearful  death-struggle,  and  now  they  stand  beside 
him  as  witnesses  in  the  terrible  judgment.  The  one  is  a 
bright  and  beautiful  being,  with  golden  locks  and  airy 
wings.  He  knows  it ;  it  is  his  guardian  angel.  The  other 
is  a  black  and  hideous  demon  of  hell.  He  crouches  like 
a  ravenous  tiger  at  the  side  of  the  unhappy  man.  His 
looks  are  full  of  hate,  and  malice,  and  triumph  too  ;  for  he 
has  dogged  the  steps  of  this  poor  sinner  all  along,  day  after 
day,  and  year  after  year,  and  now  at  last  the  time  has  come 
for  him  to  seize  his  prey.  Oh  !  how  unspeakable  is  the  sur 
prise  and  terror  of  this  unhappy  soul  at  such  a  sight !  But 
why  is  Jesus  there  ?  Why  are  the  angel  and  the  demon 
there  ?  He  knows  but  too  well :  it  is  to  judge  him.  He  is 
to  be  tried — to  be  tried  by  an  unerring  Judge — by  Jesus 
Christ  himself.  This  is  something  new  to  him. 

He  never  tried  himself,  he  never  examined  his  conscience. 
It  was  too  much  trouble.  He  was  sometimes  even  afraid  to 
look  into  his  heart.  Whenever  the  thought  of  death  and 
judgment  came  to  his  mind,  he  banished  it  quickly,  and 
consoled  himself  with  the  vague  hope  that  he  would  escape 
in  some  way  or  other.  He  was  a  Catholic,  and  he  thought 
that  perhaps  God  would  not  be  so  strict  with  him.  He  had 
not  been  a  very  bad  man ;  he  never  denied  his  faith.  He  knew 
many  others  that  were  worse  than  he  ;  he  thought  that  per 
haps  God  would  pardon  him  for  not  being  worse  than  he  was. 


194     THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT. 

He  did  not  know  exactly  how  he  would  escape,  but  he  fan 
cied  he  would  get  off  some  way  or  other.  It  is  the  old  story. 
Almighty  God  said  to  Eve,  "Eat  not  of  this  fruit;  for  if 
you  eat  of  it  you  shall  surely  die."  Now,  when  the  ser 
pent  asked  Eve  why  she  did  not  eat  of  the  fruit,  she  an 
swered,  "If  we  eat  of  it,  perhaps  we  shall  die."  And  the 
serpent  said,  "  No,  no,  you  shall  not  die."  So  it  is  always  : 
God  forbids,  the  sinner  doubts,  the  devil  denies.  God  for 
bids  us  to  commit  sin,  and  threatens  us  with  eternal  death 
if  we  commit  it ;  but  the  sinner  begins  to  reason  and  to 
doubt  of  the  truth  of  God's  words,  and  then  the  devil  comes 
and  tells  him  :  "  No,  no,  God  only  wishes  to  frighten  you. 
There  is  no  great  harm  in  that  sin.  No,  no,  you  shall  not 
die."  And  the  sinner  doubts  God's  words  and  believes  the 
devil.  So  it  has  gone  on  from  day  to  day ;  and  now,  when 
it  is  too  late,  the  unhappy  man  sees  how  he  has  been  de 
ceived  by  the  devil.  It  is  clear  to  him  now,  but  the  know 
ledge  comes  too  late  ;  and  he  sees  the  devil  gloating  in  mali 
cious  triumph  over  his  carcass.  The  unhappy  sinner  is  at 
last  to  be  tried.  He  is  standing,  a*  trembling  culprit,  be 
fore  his  Eternal  Judge.  By  what  law  is  he  to  be  tried  ? 
By  those  very  Ten  Commandments  about  which  he  heard 
so  much,  but  which  he  has  broken  so  often.  .  God  had  said 
to  him,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  thy  whole 
heart,  with  thy  whole  soul,  with  all  thy  mind,  and  with  all 
thy  strength.  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God  ;  thou  shalt  have  no 
God  but  me."  And  the  sinner  preferred  his  money — his 
gods  were  his  passions,  his  pleasures  weak,  sinful  crea 
tures,  for  love  of  whom  he  forfeited  his  soul. 

God  had  said :  "  Thou  shalt  not  take  my  name  in  vain  "; 
and  he  had  dishonored  the  holy  name  of  God  by  his  curses 
and  blasphemies.  God  had  said  to  him :  "  Thou  shalt  sanc 
tify  the  Sundays  and  holydays "  ;  and  he  had  not  kept 
those  days  holy.  He  had  neglected  Mass,  he  had  spent  the 
day  in  rioting  and  debauchery. 


THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT.     195 

God  had  said  :  "  Thou  shalt  not  steal  "  ;  he  had  stolen, 
defrauded  his  neighbor  ;  he  had  found  articles  of  value,  and 
never  returned  them  to  their  lawful  owner. 

God  had  said  :  "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thy 
self  "  ;  and  he  had  not  loved  his  neighbor  ;  he  had  spoken  ill 
of  him,  he  had  borne  a  grudge  against  him  for  weeks, 
months,  and  years. 

God  had  told  him  :  "  Thou  shalfc  not  commit  murder  "  ; 
and  he  had  murdered  his  own  soul  by  drunkenness. 

God  had  said  to  him  :  "  Thou  shalt  not  commit  any  sin  of 
impurity "  ;  and  he  had  so  sinned  a  thousand  times  IE 
thought,  in  word,  and  in  deed.  He  had  grown  so  bold  in 
sin  that  he  thought  God  would  not  notice  it.  But  now  he 
knows  that  the  devil  and  his  own  passions  kept  him  blind 
folded  all  the  while.  Now  every  sin  of  his  past  life  rises 
up  against  him.  Every  sin  that  he  committed  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave,  every  sin  of  thought,  word,  action,  and 
commission — all  appear;  not  one  is  hidden  or  forgotten. 
His  bitter  enemy,  the  devil,  who  was  always  at  his  side,  ii 
now  there  as  his  accuser.  And  the  devil  is  bold  and  defiant ; 
he  is  sure  of  his  prey.  "  I  claim  this  soul  as  mine,"  he 
shrieks.  "  Look  at  it ;  does  it  not  resemble  me  ?  Will  you 
take  a  soul  like  that  and  place  it  in  Paradise  ?  "  At  these 
words  the  sinner  looks  upon  himself  and  sees  his  own  soul. 
He  never  saw  his  soul  before,  and  now  he  sees  the  horrid 
Bight  of  one  that  is  dead  and  rotting  in  mortal  sin.  Each 
sin  has  branded  its  own  frightful  mark  upon  that  soul.  There 
he  sees  the  foul  corruption  of  lust,  there  he  sees  the  black 
scars  of  anger  and  hate,  the  horrid  seals  of  sordid  avarice. 
How  hideous  is  his  soul,  and  how  changed  from  what  it 
once  was  !  Once  it  was  radiant  with  light  and  beauty,  lovely 
and  pure  as  the  angel  that  stands  by  his  side.  Then  it  was 
a  temple  of  God,  the  dwelling-place  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
It  was  purer  than  silver,  and  brighter  than  the  finest  gold  ; 
it  was  a  radiant  star  in  the  hand  of  the  Most  High.  All 


196     THE  PRODI&AL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT. 

this  it  once  was  ;  what  is  it  now  ?  Alas  !  what  a  woful 
change  !  The  soul  that  was  a  temple  of  God,  it  has  become 
a  sink  of  uncleanness  ;  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost  a  den 
of  demons. 

"I  claim  this  body  as  mine,"  cries  the  demon  again,  with 
a  tone  of  defiance ;  and  as  he  speaks  he  points  to  the  doad 
body  as  it  lies  on  the  bed.  (( I  claim  those  eyes  as  mine  by 
all  the  lustful  looks  they  have  ever  given.  I  claim  those 
ears  as  mine  by  all  the  calumny  and  scandal  they  have 
drunk  in  so  greedily.  I  claim  this  mouth  as  mine,  by  all 
the  immodest  words,  by  all  the  curses  and  blasphemies,  it  has 
ever  uttered.  I  claim  those  hands  as  mine  by  all  the  thefts, 
the  immodest  acts,  they  have  ever  committed.  I  claim  those 
hands;  for  they  have  ever  been  closed  upon  the  poor  and  open 
to  injustice.  I  claim  those  feet  as  mine;  for  they  were  ever 
swift  to  carry  him  to  the  haunts  of  vice  and  sin,  and  slow  to 
carry  him  to  the  house  of  God.  See  ! "  cries  the  demon, 
"this  body  is  mine;  it  bears  my  mark."  And  as  the  devil 
speaks,  he  points  to  the  foul  marks  of  sin  and  shame,  which 
the  unhappy  man  knew  so  well  how  to  conceal  during  life, 
out  which  can  no  longer  be  concealed  in  death. 

"  This  man  is  a  Christian,"  cries  the  demon  again  with 
a  mocking  sneer.  "  In  baptism  he  promised  solemnly  to 
renounce  me  ;  but  how  has  he  kept  his  promise  ?  Has  he 
not  always  been  my  willing  slave  ?  He  promised  in  baptism 
to  renounce  my  works,  and  yet  has  he  not  always  worked 
for  me  ?  I  ordered  him  to  take  revenge,  and  he  instantly 
obeyed  me.  I  tempted  him  to  lust,  and  he  not  only  defiled 
his  heart,  but  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  glory  in  his  shame. 
I  urged  him  to  injustice,  and  at  my  bidding  he  wronged 
the  poor,  he  oppressed  the  widows  and  orphans,  he  de 
frauded  the  laborer  of  his  hire,  he  defrauded  the  servants 
of  their  hard-earned  wages.  Yes,  he  worked  for  me.  It 
was  by  his  advice  that  I  led  so  many  astray.  It  was  by  his 
arts  that  I  brought  so  many  innocent  souls  to  ruin.  It  was 


THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT.     197 

by  his  example  that  I  gained  over  so  many  faithful  fol 
lowers. 

"He  promised  to  renounce  my  pomps  and  my  glory;  and 
where  did  I  ever  display  my  glory  that  I  did  not  find  him 
ready  to  serve  me  ?  I  displayed  my  pomp  in  the  theatre 
and  ball-room,  and  he  worshipped  me  there  by  his  immo 
dest  words  and  gestures.  I  displayed  my  pomp  in  the 
gambling-house,  in  the  bar-room,  and  he  worshipped  me 
there  by  his  blasphemies,  by  his  drunkenness.  Even  in  the 
church,  in  the  house  of  God,  I  displayed  my  pomp  ;  I  sent 
there  vain  women,  my  faithful  slaves,  and  even  there  he 
worshipped  me  by  his  immodest  glances,  by  his  lustful 
desires.  Just  Judge  !  I  appeal  to  you,  has  he  renounced 
me,  has  he  renounced  my  works,  has  he  renounced  my 
pomps  ?  " 

Then  Satan  turns  to  the  sinner.  "  See,  wicked  wretch," 
he  cries,  "can  you  deny  this  ?"  And  as  he  speaks  he  un 
folds  before  the  unhappy  soul  the  long  list  of  her  sins.  "  Do 
you  remember  the  sin  you  committed  in  that  house  on  such 
a  night  ?  I  have  taken  cure  to  note  it  down,  as  I  knew  you 
were  so  forgetful.  Here,  too,  are  the  sinb  you  committed 
that  night  in  the  ball-room,  in  the  theatre,  on  your  way 
home.  Can  you  deny  them  ?  Here  are  noted  down  all  the 
impure  thoughts  to  which  you  consented  in  your  heart; 
here  are  written  all  those  immodest  words,  all  those  blas 
phemies,  all  your  bad  desires  and  actions.  You  told  your 
confessor  that  you  could  not  remember  the  number  of  your 
sins.  Here  is  the  number.  I  call  God  to  witness  if  it  is 
not  the  truth.  Do  you  remember  those  sins  that  you  were 
ashamed  to  tell  to  your  confessor  ?  Here  they  are,  carefully 
noted  down.  Do  you  remember  those  important  circum 
stances  that  you  concealed  ?  I  make  them  known  for  you 
now."  How  overwhelming  is  the  shame  and  confusion  of 
this  unhappy  man,  as  he  sees  all  his  sins  now  brought  forth 
against  him!  The  devil  has  indeed  told  the  truth,  becauso 


198     THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT. 

the  truth  now  serves  his  purpose  better  than  falsehood. 
He  knows  he  is  a  liar,  and  therefore  he  needs  some  one  to 
acknowledge  the  truth  of  his  accusation.     "I  have,"  he 
says,  "  witnesses,  if  you  want  them.    Shall  I  call  them  up?  " 
Jesus  Christ  gives  his  permission,  and  quick  as  a  flash  of 
light  a  troop  of  lost  spirits  come  up  from  hell.     They  glare- 
on  the  sinner  as  they  fix  on  him  a  look  of  recognition. 
"Aha!"    cries  one  of   them  with  a  fiendish   laugh,    "I 
think  you  know  me  " ;  and,  as  she  speaks,  she  holds  out  her 
long,  withered  fingers  towards  him.     "  Do  you  not  remem 
ber  me  ?    I  am  that  unhappy  girl  whom  you  seduced.    You 
led  me  to  ruin;  I  will  now  lead  you  to  hell."     Yes,  he 
knows  her,  though  she  is  horribly  changed.     He  recognizes 
that  voice,  he  remembers  that  face.      But  there  is  another 
standing  before  him,  and  he  shudders  as  he  sees  her.     It  is 
his  poor  wife,  who  had  put  up  with  all  his  harsh  treatment, 
whom  he  had  so  often  cursed  and  outraged  in  his  drunken 
ness.     Through  want  and  hunger  she  was  led  to  steal;  at 
last,  through  grief  and  despair,  she  was  led  to  drunkenness. 
She  glares  on  him  now  with  bloodshot  eyes,  like  a  furious 
tigress.     "0  husband  !"  she  shrieks,  "you  were  my  tor 
ment  during  life ;  I  will  now  be  your  torment  through  all 
eternity."      But  there   are   others   standing  near   him— a 
young  man  and  woman ;  he  knows  them  too.     They  are  his 
children.     He  received  them  from  God  to  bring  them  up 
for  heaven ;   he  has  neglected   that   sacred   duty,  he   has 
scandalized   them.     They   could   find   no  place   at   home. 
They  lost  all  affection,  all  respect  for  their  parents,  and 
after  their  day's  work  one  went  to  the  tavern,  the  other  to 
the  ball  and  dance  and  the  lonely  place  of  assignation; 
and  after  a  short  career  of  dissipation,  they  were  cut  off  in 
their  sins.     They  now  meet  him,  and  he  knows  that  their 
sins  are  upon  his  soul.    «0  father!"  they  shriek,   "fath- 
er  ! "    How  the  name,  which  was  once  a  term  of  fondness, 
now  pierces  his  soul !     "  0  father  !  you  gave  us  life  only  to 


THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT     199 

lead  us  to  hell.  We  will  not  leave  you ;  we  will  cling  to 
you,  and  drag  you  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  eternal 
flames."  Has  not  the  demon  won  his  cause?  But  wait; 
perhaps  the  sinner  has  done  penance.  Has  not  his  guar 
dian  angel  anything  to  say  in  his  favor  ?  Alas  !  he  looks 
sad ;  he  has  nothing  good  to  say.  ' '  0  Jesus,  most  just  and 
holy  Judge  !  "  answers  the  angel,  "  all  these  accusations  are 
true.  I  have  given  this  man  all  the  graces  which  Thou 
hadst  in  store  for  him.  He  had  the  faith,  he  had  the 
Sacraments,  he  had  many  special  graces,  he  had  the  Jubilee, 
the  Mission  ;  he  had  received  many  calls  and  warnings, 
but  he  heeded  them  not.  I  myself  often  spoke  to  his  heart. 
I  urged  him  to  do  penance,  but  he  neglected  it.  He  was 
seldom  at  Mass,  and  when  he  did  go  he  loaded  his  soul 
with  new  sins — sins  of  irreverence,  sins  of  sacrilege.  He 
seldom  went  to  confession,  and  when  he  went  it  was  only 
to  profane  Thy  precious  blood,  0  Jesus  !  for  he  approached 
the  sacrament  without  sincere  purpose  of  amendment ;  he 
soon  fell  back  into  his  old  sins,  and  at  last  he  died  with 
out  repentance.  There  is,  then,  nothing  left  for  me  now  but 
to  resign  my  charge,  and  to  return  the  beautiful  crown — the 
crown  which  Thou  hadst  destined  for  him,  but  which 
Thou  wilt  place  on  the  brow  of  another." 

The  prophet*  tells  us  that  the  angels  of  peace  shall  weep 
bitterly  ;  and,  indeed,  well  might  angels  even  weep  at  such 
a  sight.  The  crown  of  immortality,  the  garment  of  glory, 
the  never-ending  joys  of  heaven,  all  might  have  been  his; 
but  now  they  are  lost  forever.  Oh!  how  the  demon  exults; 
for  he  is  now  sure  of  his  prey.  "  0  Christ ! "  he  shrieks, 
"do  you  not  hear  what  the  angel  says?  You  would  not 
believe  me,  you  would  not  believe  my  witnesses;  but  now 
your  angel  has  said  it.  He  is  mine,  he  is  mine  !  He  has 
always  been  mine.  I  did  not  create  him,  and  yet  he  has 
always  served  me ;  you  created  him,  and  yet  he  refused  to 
*  Isaias  xxxiii.  7. 


200     THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED—PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT. 

obey  you.  I  never  died  for  him,  and  yet  lie  has  been  my 
willing  slave  ;  you  died  for  him,  and  yet  he  has  blasphemed 
your  name,  he  has  broken  your  commandments.  You  tried 
to  allure  him  by  kindness,  but  you  were  never  able  to  win 
his  affections.  I  led  him  to  hell,  and  he  was  always  ready 
to  follow  me.  0  God !  you  condemned  rne  to  hell  for  a 
single  sin,  for  a  sin  of  a  moment ;  and  this  man  has  com 
mitted  thousands  of  sins— sins  of  thought,  of  word,  and  of 
deed.  Eternal  God,  I  demand  justice  !  0  Jesus,  Son  of 
the  living  God  !  if  you  do  not  condemn  this  wretch,  there 
is  no  truth  in  your  words,  no  justice  in  your  awards."  The 
demon  speaks  boldly,  but  Jesus  Christ  suffers  him  to  do  so, 
because  he  speaks  the  truth.  The  unhappy  sinner  trembles 
as  he  hears  the  words  of  the  demon.  He  turns  to  Jesus, 
and  sues  for  mercy.  "  0  Jesus  !  have  mercy  !  Oh  !  do 
not  let  me  perish;  for  thou  hast  died  for  me.  I  never  de 
nied  my  faith.  Have  mercy  on  me  !  Only  one-quarter  of 
an  hour  more,  and  I  will  do  penance." 

Can  Jesus  resist  such  an  appeal?  Can  he  turn  away  His 
face  from  such  a  soul  ?  If  there  was  a  real  disposition  to 
do  penance  in  the  heart  of  that  sinner,  he  might  yet  obtain 
pardon.  But  in  the  other  world  there  is  no  penance,  no 
pardon.  As  soon  as  the  soul  has  crossed  the  threshold  of 
eternity  her  will  becomes  for  ever  fixed  ;  "for  wherever  the 
tree  falleth,  there  it  shall  lie."  * 

The  unhappy  man  has  only  the  desire  to  escape  punish 
ment,  but  not  to  avoid  sin.  Jesus,  then,  must  pronounce 
the  sentence.  His  divine  justice  requires  it.  "  0  wicked 
man!"  says  Jesus  then,  turning  to  the  sinner,  "you 
ask  for  mercy,  but  it  is  now  too  late ;  the  time  for  mercy 
for  you  has  passed.  You  ask  for  mercy,  and  you  never 
showed  any  mercy  to  yourself,  to  your  wife  and  children. 
You  cry  for  mercy;  but  did  I  not  show  yon  mercy  all  the 
days  of  your  life  ?  I  sent  you  my  priests.  You  refused  to 
*  Eccles.  xi.  3 


THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT.    201 

hear  them.  They  warned  you,  and  you  despised  their 
warning.  They  showed  you  the  way  to  heaven  ;  you  would 
not  follow.  You  preferred  the  demon  during  life  ;  you  shall 
now  be  his  slave  for  all  eternity.  Depart,  then,  accursed 
soul,  into  the  eternal  fire  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  fol 
lowers."  And  Jesus  Christ  has  gone  ;  the  angel,  too,  is 
gone.  The  devil  approaches  the  dead  body.  The  people 
are  not  yet  done  washing  it.  The  devil  begins  to  wash  too. 
What  can  it  be  ?  He  is  washing  the  forehead  ;  for  on  that 
forehead  the  mark  of  Christ,  the  holy  cross,  was  placed  iii 
baptism.  The  devil  now  washes  it  away,  and  with  a  brand 
from  hell  he  stamps  there  his  own  seal — the  seal  of  damna 
tion.  Now  the  unhappy  wretch  feels  the  full  extent  of  his 
misery.  His  soul  is  transformed  into  a  hideous  demon. 
How  he  howls  in  wild  despair,  as  he  realizes  his  situation  ! 
"I  am  damned — damned  for  ever  !  Oh!  I  never  thought  it 
would  come  to  this  !  Are,  then,  God's  judgments  so  severe  ? 
After  all,  I  only  acted  as  others  act.  I  never  denied  my 
faith.  I  always  had  a  good  name.  What,  then,  will  be 
come  of  the  companions  I  left  on  earth,  who  are  even 
worse  than  I  was  ?  Will  they  too  be  condemned  !  Oh  ! 
shall  I  never  see  Jesus  Christ  again  ?  Shall  I  never  enter 
heaven  ?  Must  I  despair  for  ever  ?"  As  he  utters  these  words 
the  mocking  voices  of  myriads  of  demons  ring  wildly  in  his 
ear,  "Never!  forever." 

We  know  what  a  comfort  it  is  in  suffering  to  be  able  to 
say,  "It  was  not  my  fault ;  I  did  what  I  could."  But  even 
this  comfort  will  not  be  left  to  the  lost  sinner.  He  will  say 
to  himself:  "I  might  have  been  saved.  What  the  angel 
said  is  all  true.  I  was  a  Catholic.  I  had  the  means  of 
salvation.  I  was  never  happy  in  my  wicked  life.  My  sins 
made  me  miserable  during  life.  Now  I  shall  be  miserable 
for  ever.  What  a  fool  I  was  !  I  might  have  done  penance, 
and  I  would  have  been  happier  for  time  and  eternity.  How 
little  God  asked  of  me  !  I  had  the  Mission,  I  had  the 


202     THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT. 

Jubilee,  and  other  opportunities.  If  I  had  but  profited  by 
them,  I  would  not  now  be  here.  Now  I  can  see  that  that 
accident,  that  sickness  which  made  me  so  impatient,  was  a 
warning  from  God.  Now  I  understand  it  was  God  that 
called  me  by  means  of  that  friend ;  God  that  spoke  to  my 
heart  in  that  book,  but  I  would  not  hear  His  voice.  Now  I 
see  that  it  was  God  that  spoke  when  my  conscience  warned 
me  not  to  go  to  that  place,  to  give  up  that  company ;  and 
when  I  had  sinned,  in  spite  of  this  warning,  it  was  God  who 
sent  me  that  terrible  remorse.  But  I  hardened  my  heart,  I 
closed  my  eyes  to  the  light.  0  fool  that  I  was  !  What 
trouble  I  took  to  be  damned,  and  how  little  was  required  of 
me  to  be  saved  !  I  am  damned  through  my  own  fault.  1 
had  time  enough  to  save  my  soul.  How  many  hours  have 
I  lost  in  gambling  and  drinking,  in  gratifying  my  sinful 
desires  !  I  had  so  many  opportunities;  had  I  only  used  even 
one-half  of  them  well,  I  would  now  be  in  heaven.  I  could 
have  been  saved  just  as  well  as  so  many  others  who  had  as 
much  to  fight  against  as  I.  They,  too,  had  business  to 
attend  to ;  they,  too,  lived  in  the  world,  in  the  midst  of 
dangers  and  temptations,  and  yet  they  are  saved.  Why, 
then,  am  I  alone  lost  ? 

"  Yesterday  God  was  ready  ;  the  sacraments  were  at  hand, 
the  church-door  was  open,  the  priest  was  awaiting  me  ;  but 
now  all  is  lost.  Had  I  now  but  a  single  hour  to  do  penance 
and  to  obtain  pardon  ! "  Alas  !  the  unhappy  sinner  laments 
in  vain ;  his  sorrow"  comes  too  late.  The  demon  seizes  him  and 
hugs  him  as  a  huge  serpent  hugs  its  trembling  victim.  On, 
on,  and  now  they  fly  on,  on,  as  swift  as  a  thought,  till  at  last 
they  reach  the  mouth  of  the  infernal  abyss.  The  devil  then 
casts  this  lost  soul  into  the  dismal  dungeon  of  hell,  and 
there  it  shall  burn  for  ever  and  ever.  And  now  myriads  of 
damned  spirits  rush  upon  that  soul,  and  a  wild  shriek  rings 
over  the  wide  extent  of  hell  :  "  One  more  Catholic  is  ours 
one  more  soul  lost !  one  more  devil  in  hell !  " 


THE  PRODIQA  L  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT.     203 

Tliis  judgment  is  passed  and  executed  in  a  moment. 
The  body  is  not  yet  cold,  and  the  soul  is  burning  in  hell 
The  friends  and  relatives  of  the  deceased  are  standing 
around  the  corpse,  entirely  unconscious  of  what  had  just 
passed  in  the  room.  Some  come  to  take  a  last  look  at  their 
dead  friend,  and,  as  they  gaze  on  the  face  of  the  corpse,  they 
say  :  "  Oh  !  how  natural  he  looks  !  lie  looks  as  if  he  were 
smiling  still."  And  they  that  speak  little  think  that  the 
soul  is  damned.  They  know  not  that  Jesus  Christ  has  been 
there  and  condemned  that  soul  to  hell.  This  is  an  every- 
day's  occurrence.  We,  too,  shall  sooner  or  later  experience 
the  meaning  of  those  dread  words  of  the  apostle  :  "  It  is  a 
terrible  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God." 
Wherever  death  overtakes  a  man,  there  Jesus  Christ  meets 
him  and  judges  him.  One  finds  his  death  in  the  grog-shop, 
and  there,  in  that  very  spot,  with  bad  companions  standing 
around,  with  the  sound  of  blasphemy  in  his  ear,  Jesus 
Christ,  unseen,  meets  that  man's  soul  and  condemns  him 
to  hell.  Another  dies  in  a  wretched  hovel,  where  filth,,  and 
ignorance,  and  sin  have  utterly  brutalized  his  soul ;  and 
there,  in  that  hovel,  Jesus  Christ  meets  that  soul,  that  de 
graded  being,  and  condemns  him  to  hell.  Another  dies  in 
a  bed  of  soft  down,  covered  around  with  silken  curtains; 
and  as  he  dies,  he  sees  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ  looking 
through  the  curtains;  and  there  He 'pronounces  the  sen 
tence  of  condemnation  against  him  who  made  a  god  of  this 
world.  Another  is  shot  in  the  street,  on  his  way  to  the 
place  of  assignation;  and  then  and  there,  in  the  street,  Jesus 
Christ  meets  him  and  condemns  him  to  hell. 

Yes,  wherever  death  meets  us,  Jesus  Christ  too  will  meet 
us;  and  if  we  are  in  mortal  sin,  He  will  condemn  us  to  hell. 
It  may  be  to-morrow,  soon — much  sooner  than  we  expect. 
It  may  be  in  the  very  act  of  sin.  Perhaps  we  will  be 
hurried,  unprepared,  before  our  Eternal  Judge.  Then  there 
shall  be  no  mercy  ;  nothing  but  justice— unerring  justice. 


204     THE  PR ODIOAL  JUD OED—  PA R TIC ULA.R  JUD GMENT. 

If  we  love  our  own  happiness,  let  us  prepare  ourselves 
while  we  have  yet  time.  The  decisive  moment  shall  come 
for  every  one  of  us — that  moment  upon  which  a  whole 
eternity  depends. 

It  was  this  all-important  truth  that  Philip  Neri  impressed 
so  deeply  upon  the  mind  of  Spazzara,  a  young  man  who  came 
<.  to  him  one  day  and  said  :  "  0  father  !  I  have  some  good  news 
'to  tell  you.  My  parents  have  at  last  consented  to  send  me  to 
the  university,  where  I  intend  to  study  law."  "Very  well," 
said  the  saint ;  "  and  when  you  have  finished  your  studies, 
what  will  you  do  then?"  "Oh!  then,"  said  the  young 
man,  "I  shall  receive  my  diploma  and  be  admitted  to  the 
bar."  "  And  when  you  have  received  your  diploma  and  are 
admitted  to  the  bar,  what  will  you  do  then  ?  "  "  Then  I  ex 
pect  to  receive  a  great  deal  of  patronage,  and  hope  to  be 
come  renowned  for  wisdom  and  eloquence."  "  And  what 
then  ?"  asked  St.  Philip.  "Oh  !  then  perhaps  I  shall  be 
come  a  judge  or  %  governor,  or  receive  some  other  import 
ant  public  office.  I  shall  become  rich,  and  be  honored  and 
admired  by  all."  "  And  what  will  you  do  then  ?  "  asked 
the  saint  once  more.  "  Well,  then,  when  I  have  grown  old, 
I  shall  rest  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  my  labors  in  a  calm  old 
age."  "  Well,  supposing  all  this  comes  true,"  said  the 
saint  once  more,  "what  will  you  do  then?"  "Then — 
then — "  said  the  young  man,  in  a  more  sober  tone,  "why, 
then  I  suppose  I  must  die,  like  every  one  else."  "  Yes,  you 
must  die  at  last,"  said  St.  Philip,  in  a  tone  of  fearful  earn 
estness ;  "but  what  then  ?  What  shall  you  do  when  your 
w  n  trial  comes — when  you  shall  be  yourself  the  accused, 
Satan  the  accuser,  and  Almighty  God  your  judge  ?"  The 
young  man  was  now  quite  serious  ;  lie  little  expected  such  a 
conclusion.  The  terrible  thought  of  the  hour  of  death,  the 
strict  judgment  after  death,  and  the  endless  eternity  that 
awaited  him  in  heaven  or  hell — all  this  opened  his  eyes  to 
the  folly  of  earthly  greatness.  He  went  home,  thought  over 


THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT.     205 

the  matter  seriously,  and  at  last,  enlightened  and  strength 
ened  by  God,  lie  quitted  the  world  and  consecrated  himself 
to  the  service  of  God  in  a  monastery,  in  order  to  prepare 
most  earnestly  for  that  final  "  what  then  ?  " — that  is  to  say, 
that  awful  judgment  which  shall  be  followed  by  eternity. 
Let  us  be  wise  ;  let  us  prepare  in  time  for  the  hour  of 
death — that  hour  of  terror — when  the  past,  the  present,  and 
the  future  will  fill  our  souls  with  horror,  when  the  world 
will  recede  from  us,  when  the  temptations  of  the  devil  will 
be  most  fierce,  and  when  we  shall  have  to  give  a  strict  ac 
count  of  all  our  thoughts,  words,  and  actions.  All  this 
makes  the  last  moment  of  our  life  the  most  frightful.  It  is, 
therefore,  the  greatest  wisdom  to  prepare  ourselves  well  for 
that  decisive  moment.  We  shall  prepare  well  for  that  awful 
moment  if  at  least  from  henceforth  we  make  good  confes 
sions  and  are  charitable  to  the  poor.  "If  we  judge  our 
selves,"  says  St.  Paul,  "we  shall  not  be  judged."  If  we 
carefully  examine  our  conscience  every  day,  if  we  purify  our 
souls  every  day  more  and  more  by  good  confessions,  we  need 
have  no  fear  of  God  in  the  hour  of  death.  St.  Augustine 
assures  us  that  if  we  side  with  Almighty  God,  we  shall  not 
be  judged  by  Him.  "  Now,  we  side  with  God,"  he  says, 
"as  soon  as  we  begin  to  hate  our  sins,  condemn  them,  and 
accuse  ourselves  of  them  in  confession.  We  begin  to  be 
good  as  soon  as  we  begin  to  confess  our  bad  actions."  *  To 
make  a  sincere  confession  is  to  lay  the  foundation  of  a  life 
of  holiness.  It  is  then  that  all  our  works,  especially  our 
charity  to  the  poor,  are  pleasing  to  Almighty  God,  and 
will  inspire  us  with  great  confidence  in  the  mercy  of  God. 
"  Blessed  is  he  that  understandeth  concerning  the  poor  and 
the  needy,"  says  holy  David  ;  "  the  Lord  will  deliver  him 
on  the  evil  day."  f  The  evil  day  is  the  day,  the  hour,  of 
death.  But  in  this  hour  the  charitable  Christian  will  ex 
perience  great  confidence  in  God.  "Alms  shall  be,"  says 
*  Tr.  xii.  in  Joan.  sub.  fine.  -f  Pg.  XL  3. 


206     THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT 

Holy  Scripture,  "  a  great  confidence  before  the  Most  High 
God  to  all  those  that  give  it."  *  And  again  it  is  said : 
"Alms  delivereth  from  death,  and  maketh  to  find  mercy. "f 
"The  goods  of  this  world,"  says  St.  Ambrose,  "will  not 
follow  us  after  death.  Only  the  works  of  charity  will  ac 
company  the  dying.  They  will  preserve  them  from  hell." 
Tobias  says:  "According  to  thy  ability  be  merciful;  for 
thus  thou  storest  up  to  thyself  a  good  reward  for  the  day  of 
necessity."!  St.  Cyprian  says  that  Tabita  was  restored  to 
life  on  account  of  her  charity  towards  the  poor.  "This 
woman,"  says  Holy  Scripture,  "  was  full  of  good  works  and 
alms-deeds  which  she  did."§  "A  death-bed  is  a  good 
one,"  says  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  "if  it  has  charity  for  a 
mattress."  ||  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  was  wont  to  say  "  that 
those  who  have  been  charitable  in  the  course  of  their  life  to 
wards  the  poor  generally  have  no  fear  of  death  at  the  end 
of  their  life ;  that  he  had  witnessed  this  in  many  instances  ; 
and  that  for  this  reason  he  recommended  to  all  those  who 
were  afraid  of  death  to  be  charitable  to  the  poor."  It  is  re 
lated  in  his  life  that  a  certain  man,  who  was  very  charitable 
to  the  poor,  was  always  very  much  afraid  of  death.  But  in 
the  whole  course  of  his  last  illness,  which  prepared  him  for 
death,  he  was  calm  and  cheerful ;  he  died  with  a  joyous 
smile  on  his  lips. 

"Yes,"  says  St.  Jerome,  "I  cannot  remember  ever  to 
have  read  that  a  man  who  was  given  to  works  of  charity 
died  a  bad  death.  He  has  too  many  intercessors  in  heaven, 
and  it  is  impossible  that  the  prayer  of  many  should  not  be 
heard."  "  Works  of  charity  alone,"  remarks  a  certain 
author, ^[  "  lead  man  to  God  and  God  to  man.  I  never  saw 
a  charitable  person  die  a  bad  death." 

This  confidence  is  a  fruit  of  their  charity  to  the  poor ; 

*  Job.  iv.  13.  +  Job.  xii.  9.  t  Tobias  iv.  8. 

%  Acts  ix.  36,  40.  8  Spirit  of  St.  Francis  de  Sale*. 

IT  Ad  Pratres  in  eremo  apua  St.  Augustine. 


THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT.  207 

for  they  know  that  whatever  they  have  given  to  the  poor, 
they  have  given  to  our  Lord  Himself,  as  our  divine  Saviour 
has  declared,  "  Amen  I  say  to  you,  as  long  as  you  did  it  to 
one  of  these  my  least  brethren,  you  did  it  to  me."  *  For 
this  reason  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  say  that  whatever 
is  given  in  alms  is  put,  as  it  were,  into  the  savings-bank  of 
heaven  by  the  hands  of  the  poor.  "Secure  your  riches," 
exclaims  St.  John  Chrysostom;  f  "  they  are  fleeting.  How 
can  you  secure  them  ?  By  giving  them  in  alms  you  will 
make  them  stay  with  you ;  but  by  keeping  them  you  will 
make  them  leave  you.  Keep  grain  locked  up,  and  it  will 
be  eaten  up  by  worms  and  disappear  ;  sow  it  out,  and  it  will 
yield  a  rich  harvest  and  remain.  Thus,  in  like  manner, 
riches  put  under  lock  and  key  will  disappear  ;  but  given  in 
alms  to  the  poor,  they  will  yield  a  hundred-fold."  St.  Cy 
prian  says  the  same.  These  are  his  words :J  "A  capital 
deposited  in  the  hands  of  Jesus  Christ  cannot  be  confis 
cated  by  any  government,  nor  can  it  become  the  prey  of 
dishonest  lawyers.  That  inheritance  is  secure  which  is  de 
posited  with  God."  Sophronius  §  tells  us  that  Evagrius 
the  philosopher  heard  one  day,  in  a  sermon,  that  in  the 
other  world  a  hundred-fold  would  be  returned  for  every 
thing  given  in  alms.  So  he  brought  sixty  pounds  of  gold 
to  Bishop  Synesius,  that  he  might  distribute  them  among 
the  poor.  He  received,  for  this  money,  the  bishop's  note 
stating  he  would  receive  a  hundred-fold  in  heaven.  He  told 
his  children  to  put  this  note  in  his  hands  after  his  death, 
and  bury  him  with  it.  Three  days  after  his  death  he  ap 
peared  to  the  bishop,  and  begged  him  to  go  to  his  grave  and 
take  back  his  note,  as  he  had  already  received  a  hundred 
fold  from  Christ,  according  to  promise.  Next  morning  the 
bishop,  together  with  his  clergy,  went  to  the  grave  of  Eva 
grius,  and  took  from  his  hands  the  note,  which  then  read 

*  Matt.  xxv.  40.  t  De  Penitent. 

*  Tract,  de  Opere  et  eleemoa.  §  C.  195. 


208  THE  PRODIGAL  JUDGED — PARTICULAR  JUDGMENT. 

as  follows:  "E vagi-ins,  the  philosopher,  to  his  bishop:  I 
did  not  wish  that  you  should  remain  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that,  for  all  the  money  which  I  gave  you,  I  have  been  re 
warded  a  hundred-fold.  You  owe  me  nothing  more." 

The  alms,  then,  which  the  charitable  man  has  given  will 
inspire  him  in  the  hour  of  deatli  with  great  confidence  in 
Jesus  Christ,  bis  Eternal  Judge.  Holy  David  says:  ' 'Ac 
ceptable  to  God  is  the  man  that  showeth  mercy  and  lend-* 
v  eth.  Glory  and  wealth  shall  be  in  his  house ;  he'shall  order 
his  words  with  judgment."*  "In  these  words  the  royal 
prophet  gives  us  to  understand,"  says  St.  John  Chrysostom, 
"  that  a  man  rich  in  works  of  charity  will  not  be  afraid  of 
his  Eternal  Judge.  In  vain  shall  his  sins  rise  to  accuse 
him  if  the  poor  excuse  him.  He  gave  his  alms  to  Jesus 
Christ  Himself  in  the  person  of  the  poor.  "  Opera  tua 
sumus — we  are  your  works,"  they  will  cry  out  to  him.  "  We 
are  so  many  advocates  before  the  tribunal  of  Christ  to  de 
fend  your  cause.  We  will  gain  for  you  the  good  graces  of 
the  Eternal  Judge.  We  will  prevail  upon  him  to  pronounce 
sentence  in  your  favor."  t 

What  a  happiness  for  us  to  have  in  our  power  these  two 
easy  means — confession  of  our  sins  and  charity  to  the  poor — 
to  escape  the  sentence  of  eternal  death  !    Yes,  our  good 
confessions  and  our  works  of  charity  will  all  be  so  many 
powerful  advocates  to  gain  our  cause  with  Jesus  Christ;  they  . 
will  gloriously  prevail  upon  Him  to  pronounce  sentence  in 
our  favor  at  the  particular  as  well  as  at  the  general  judg*' 
ment,  and  this  sentence  is :  ' (  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Fa 
ther,  possess  yon  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the" 
foundation  of  the  world.     For  I  was  hungry,  and  you  gave 
me  to  eat ;  I  was  thirsty,  and  you  gave  me  to  drink ;  I  was  a^ 
stranger,  and  yon  took  me  in  ;  naked,  and  yon  covered  me  ; 
sick,  and  you  visited  me  ;  I  was  in  prison,  and  you  came  to 
me." 

*  PS.  cxi.  3,  5.  +  HomlL  xxxiii.  ad  popul.  \  Matt.  xxv.  3i 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    PRODIGAL   AND    HIS   COMPANIONS     JUDGED — GENERAL 
JUDGMENT. 

TN  Turkey  there  is  a  vast  province  which  was  formerly 
*•  called  Bulgaria.     The  inhabitants  of  that  province  were 
converted  to  Christianity  in  the  ninth  century.     Amongst 
their  apostles  figured  conspicuously  a  holy  monk   named 
Methodius,  who  was  a  very   skilful  painter.     Bogoris,  the 
King  of  the  Bulgarians,  had  not  as  yet  been  converted  to  the 
true  faith.     One  day  he  requested  St.  Methodius  to  paint 
some   pictures  for  him,  with  which  to  ornament  a  palace 
which  he  had  just  constructed.     He  recommended  the  saint 
to  choose  for  the  subject  of   his  painting  something  that 
when  represented  would  freeze  with  terror  all  who  beheld  it. 
In  conformity  with  these  instructions,  the  saint  undertook 
to  paint  the  Last  Judgment.     The  central  figure  of  his 
painting  was  Jesus  Christ  surrounded  by  angels,  seated  on  a 
throne  of  dazzling  glory,  his  face  wearing  the  aspect  of  that 
of  an  angry  judge.     All  men,  without  distinction  of  age  or 
rank,  were  assembled  before  his  tribunal,  where  they  await 
ed,  trembling,  the  sentence  that  was  to  decide  their  eternal 
fate.     There  was  shown  in  the  several  parts  of  the  picture 
a  force,  an  energy,  a  vivacity,  a  warmth  of  expression,  that 
added  still  more  to  the  horror  of  the  subject.     The  work, 
being  finished,  was  shown   to  the  king,  who  was  deeply 
moved  at  the  sight  of  it ;  but  his  emotion  increased  much 
more  when  the  painter  explained  to  him  each  part.     He 
could  no  longer  remain  obdurate,  and,  corresponding  thence 
forward  with  the  grace  which  spoke  to  him  through  a  sensi 
ble  object,  he  asked  to  be  instructed  in  the  mysteries  of 


209 


210     THE  PRODIGAL  AND  HIS  COMPANIONS  JUDGED: 

religion,  and  a  short  time  afterwards  received  baptism.— 
Schmid  et  Belet,  Cat.  Hist.  i.  263. 

Could  we  only  behold  a  true  picture  of  the  Last  Judg 
ment  and  the  awful  catastrophe  that  will  precede  it !  Could 
we  only  look  upon  it  in  the  morning  when  we  rise,  and  at 
night  before  we  retire  to  rest !  Two  such  glances  daily  at 
that  picture  would  be  well  calculated  to  confirm  us  in  our 
good  resolutions  of  always  making  sincere  confessions  of 
our  sins,  and  of  being  truly  charitable  to  all  our  neighbors. 

About  eighteen  hundred  years  ago  there  stood  at  the  foot 
of  Mount  Vesuvius  the  city  of  Pompeii.  This  city  be 
came  a  favorite  resort  for  wealthy  Romans,  many  of  whom 
had  villas  in  its  suburbs.  Although  a  living  picture  in  all 
the  departments  of  social  life — in  the  affairs  of  domestic 
and  of  public  life,  of  the  worship  of  the  gods,  and  the 
siiows  of  the  arena;  in  architecture,  painting,  and  sculp 
ture — in  fine,  in  all  the  appliances  of  comfort  and  of  luxury 
in  a  wealthy  community,  Pompeii  was  doomed  to  utter 
ruin. 

This  calamity  overtook  it  in  A.D.  79,  when  a  terrific 
eruption  of  Vesuvius  occurred,  which  in  one  day  buried 
the  entire  city  in  everlasting  ruin.  On  the  morning  of  the 
eruption,  the  amphitheatre  was  filled  with  thousands  of 
spectators.  Suddenly  a  vast  vapor  rose  up  from  the  summit 
of  Mount  Vesuvius,  in  the  form  of  a  gigantic  pine-tree. 
Its  trunk  was  blackness,  its  branches  fire — a  fire  that  every 
moment  shifted  and  changed  its  hues  ;  showing  now  fiercely 
luminous,  now  a  dull  and  dying  red,  and  again  blazing  ter 
rifically  forth  with  intolerable  glare. 

The  agonizing  shrieks  of  women  filled  the  air ;  the  men 
stared  at  one  another,  and  were  struck  dumb.  They  felt 
the  earth  shake  beneath  their  feet ;  the  walls  of  the  theatre 
trembled ;  and  beyond,  in  the  distance,  they  heard  the 
crash  of  falling  roofs.  Presently  the  mountain  cloud  rolled 
toward  them,  dark  and  rapid  as  a  torrent;  it  cast  forth 


GENERAL  JUDGMENT.  211 

from  its  bosom  a  shower  of  ashes,  mixed  with  vast  frag 
ments  of  burning  stone.  Over  the  creeping  vines,  over  the 
desolate  streets,  over  the  amphitheatre  itself — far  and  wide 
fell  that  awful  shower.  Every  one  turned  to  fly,  each  dash 
ing,  pressing,  crushing  against  the  other ;  trampling  reck 
lessly  over  the  fallen ;  regardless  of  the  groans,  and  oaths, 
and  prayers,  and  sudden  shrieks,  the  enormous  crowd  rush 
ed  panic-stricken  they  knew  not  whither.  Whither  should 
they  fly?  Some,  anticipating  a  second  earthquake,  has 
tened  to  their  homes  to  load  themselves  with  their  most 
costly  goods,  and  escape  while  it  was  yet  time.  Others, 
dreading  the  shower  of  ashes  that  fell  like  a  torrent  over 
the  streets,  sought  shelter  under  the  roofs  of  the  nearest 
houses  or  temples  or  coverings  of  whatever  kind.  But 
darker,  and  larger,  arid  mightier  spread  the  cloud  above 
them  ;  it  was  a  sudden  and  ghastly  night,  blotting  out,  in 
an  instant,  the  bright,  full  noon.  To  add  to  the  horrors  of 
the  disaster,  the  mighty  mountain  began  to  cast  up  columns 
of  boiling  water.  Blending  with  and  kneading  together  the 
half-burning  ashes,  the  streams  fell  seething  and  scorching 
upon  the  now  deserted  streets.  The  lower  part  of  the 
town  was  soon  half  choked  with  ashes ;  here  and  there 
might  be  heard  the  steps  of  fugitives  crunching  the 
ashes,  their  pale,  haggard  faces  visible  by  the  blue  glare  of 
the  lightning  or  the  more  unsteady  light  of  torches,  by 
which  they  endeavored  to  guide  their  steps  ;  but  the  boiling 
water  or  the  winds  extinguished  these  wandering  lights,  and 
with  them  the  last  hope  of  those  who  bore  them.  The 
cloud  which  had  scattered  so  deep  a  darkness  over  the  day 
had  now  settled  into  a  solid,  impenetrable  mass;  but  in 
proportion  as  the  darkness  deepened,  the  lightning  around 
Vesuvius  increased. 

The  ominous  rumbling  of  the  earth  and  groaning  of 
the  troubled  sea  filled  in,  with  their  mingled  thunder,  the 
pauses  between  the  falling  of  the  showers.  Sometimes  the 


212     THE  PRODIGAL  AND  HIS  COMPANIONS  JUDGED; 

cloud  would  seem  to  break  from  its  solid  mass,  and  by  the 
glare  of  lightning  to  assume  monster  shapes,  striding  across 
the  gloom,  hurtling  one  upon  the  other,  and  vanishing 
swiftly  into  the  turbulent  abyss.  They  appeared  like 
gigantic  foes — the  agents  of  terror  and  death.  Sometimes 
the  huge  stones,  striking  against  each  other  as  they  fell, 
broke  into  countless  fragments,  emitting  sparks  of  fire, 
which  burnt  whatever  they  touched.  Along  the  plains 
beyond  the  city  the  darkness  was  terribly  relieved  by  the 
flames  of  burning  houses  and  vineyards.  Parties  of  fugi 
tives,  wild,  haggard,  and  ghastly,  some  hurrying  towards 
the  sea,  others  flying  from  the  sea  back  to  the  land,  en 
countered  and  passed  one  another  without  a  word,  each  hur 
rying  to  seek  refuge  in  the  nearest  place  of  shelter.  All  the 
elements  of  society  were  broken  up.  In  the  darkness  and 
confusion  the  wife  was  separated  from  her  husband,  the 
child  from  the  parent.  Nothing  of  the  laws  of  society  was 
left  save  the  primeval  law  of  self-preservation.  There  was 
an  old  man  tottering  along  with  a  bag  of  gold  in  his  hand, 
and  leaning  upon  a  youth,  who  bore  a  lighted  torch.  They 
were  father  and  son — the  father  a  miser,  the  son  a  prodi 
gal. 

"  Father,"  cried  the  young  man,  "  if  you  cannot  move 
on  faster,  I  must  leave  you,  or  we  both  perish." 

"  Fly,  then,  and  leave  your  father,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  But  I  cannot  fly  and  starve ;  give  me  thy  bag  of  gold," 
shrieked  the  youth. 

•"  Wretch  !  wouldst  thou  rob  thy  father  ?  " 

"  Aye  !  who  can  tell  the  tale  in  this  hour  ?  Miser, 
perish  ! " 

The  boy  struck  the  old  man  to  the  ground,  snatched  the 
bag  from  kis  relaxing  grasp,  and  fled. 

Suddenly  &  glow  and  an  intense  glare  filled  all  places. 
Through  the  deep  darkness  loomed  the  huge  mountain — a 
pile  of  living  fire.  Its  summit  seemed  riven  in  twain — two 


GENERAL  JUDGMENT.  213 

monster  shapes,  confronting  each  the  other,  like  demons 
contending  for  the  mastery  of  the  world.  It  was  a  night  of 
dread  and  horror.  Never,  perhaps,  till  the  last  trumpet 
sounds  shall  such  a  scene  again  be  witnessed.  The  awful 
destruction  of  Pompeii  gives  but  a  faint  idea  of  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  universe — a  destruction  which  will  be  followed 
by  the  general  judgment  of  mankind.  Although  the  Lord 
has  left  us  in  ignorance  about  the  time  of  this  universal 
destruction,  yet  He  has  foretold  most  clearly  that  it  will 
take  place.  In  a  vision,  He  showed  one  day  to  St.  John  the 
Evangelist  what  was  to  happen  at  the  end  of  the  world. 
"And  there  were  lightnings,  and  voices,  and  thunder,"  says 
St.  John,  "  and  there  was  a  great  earthquake,  such  an  one 
as  never  hath  been  since  men  were  upon  the  earth,  such  an 
earthquake,  so  great.  And  every  island  fled  away,  and  the 
mountains  were  not  found.  And  great  hail  like  a  talent 
came  down  from  heaven  upon  men  :  and  men  blasphemed 
God  for  the  plague  of  the  hail  :  because  it  was  exceeding 
great."* 

St.  Peter  the  Apostle  adds :  "  The  day  of  the  Lord  shall 
come  as  a  thief ;  on  that  day  the  heavens  shall  pass  away 
with  great  violence,  the  elements  shall  be  melted  with  heat ; 
and  the  earth  and  the  works  that  are  in  it  shall  be  burnt 
up."t 

And  long  before  the  Lord  had  sketched  out  to  us  the 
outlines  of  that  tremendous  day  by  the  prophet  Isaiah  : 
" With  breaking  shall  the  earth  be  broken;  with  crushing 
shall  the  earth  be  crushed ;  with  trembling  shall  the  earth 
be  moved ;  with  shaking  shall  the  earth  be  shaken,  as  a 
drunken  man,  and  shall  be  removed,  as  the  tent  of  one 
night;  and  it  shall  fall,  and  shall  not  rise  again."  J  Our 
Saviour  Himself  assures  us  that  on  that  day  "the  sun  shall 
be  darkened,  and  the  moon  shall  not  give  her  light;  and 
the  stars  shall  fall  from  heaven ;  and  upon  earth  there  shall 
*  Apoc.  xvL  18,  21.  *  2  Ep.  Peter  iii.  10.  t  Is.  xxiv.  19.  20. 


214    THE  PRODIGAL  AND  HIS  COMPANIONS  JUDGED: 

be  distress  of  nations  by  reason  of  the  confusion  of  the  roar 
ing  of  the  sea  and  of  the  waves :  men  withering  away  for 
fear,  and  expectation  of  what  shall  come  upon  the  whole 
world;   for  the  powers  of  heaven  shall  be  moved.     And 
then  shall  appear  the  sign  of  the  Son  of  Man  in  heaven ; 
and  then  shall  all  the  tribes  of  the  earth  mourn :  and  they 
shall  see  the  Son  of  Man  coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven 
with  great  power  and  majesty.     And  he  shall  send  his  an 
gels  with  a  trumpet  and  a  great  voice,  and  they  shall  gather 
together  his  elect  from  the  four  winds,  from  the  farthest 
parts  of  the  heavens  to  the  utmost  bounds  of  them.     Hea 
ven    and    earth    shall    pass    away,    but    my    word    shall 
not    pass    away."*      Here    are    most    dreadful    disasters 
foretold.      They  will    be    the    forerunners    of    the    gene- 
ral  dissolution  of  the  world,  to  announce  the  last  terrible 
judgment,  and  to  admonish  mankind  to  prepare  for   it. 
The  simple  description  of  those  dreadful  events  strikes  us 
with  terror.     The  heavens  will  echo  with  the  loudest  thun 
der  ;  the  sky  will  be  rent  in  every  part  with  most  dreadfu] 
flashes  of  lightning ;  the  whole  air  will  resound  with  horri 
ble  voices  or  noises.     The  earth  will  be  shaken  from  it? 
foundations  with  an  earthquake  such  as  never  has  been  felt 
before,  nor  has  ever  entered  into  man's  mind  to  imagine. 
Such  will  be  the  general  concussion  caused  by  this  earth 
quake  that  all  the  islands  immediately  vanish ;  and  of  the 
mountains,  some  will  tumble  to  pieces  and  be  levelled  with 
the  surface  of  the  earth ;  others  will  burst  out  into  volca 
noes,  and  by  their  internal  fire  be  dissolved  and  melted  into 
a  fluid.     Then  will  follow  a  storm  of  hail  infinitely  exceed 
ing-  what  had  ever  been  heard  of  or  known.      The  hail 
stones  will  be  of  the  weight  of  a  talent — that  is,  of  four 
score  pounds.     The  sun  will  darken  to  such  a  degree  that  it 
will  appear  as  though  covered  with  black  hair-cloth,  and  the 
moon  will  redden  like  blood.      The  stars  will  seem  to  fall 
*Matt.  xxiv.,  Lukexxi. 


GENERAL  JUDGMENT.  215 

from  the  heavens  as  thick  as  green  figs  are  shake.,  from  the 
trees  in  a  hurricane  of  wind  ;  the  sky  will  appear  to  fold 
up  like  a  roll  of  parchment.  The  whole  fabric  of  the 
world  will  be  unhinged  and  fall  to  pieces.  All  will  be  con 
fusion,  wreck,  and  ruin.  At  the  sight  of  such  events,  what 
wonder  if  the  wicked  of  every  rank  and  denomination  run 
to  hide  themselves  for  fear,  and,  from  consciousness  of 
their  guilt  suspect  that  the  Great  Day  has  arrived,  and  that 
the  Almighty  is  coining  to  judgment,  causing  them  to  wish 
that  the  mountains  and  rocks  may  fall  upon  them,  to  shel 
ter  them  from  the  face  of  the  angry  God  and  from  the 
wrath  of  the  Lamb  !  But,  strange  to  think,  notwithstand 
ing  such  an  awful  catastrophe,  many  of  the  wicked  will  re 
main  obstinate  in  their  evil  dispositions,  and,  refusing  in 
those  last  moments  to  turn  their  hearts  to  repentance  and 
sue  for  pardon,  will  complete  their  impiety  by  blaspheming 
God  for  the  calamities  which  they  suffer  and  which  they 
have  done  their  share  to  call  down  upon  themselves.  As  all 
mankind  are  sentenced  to  die,  those  who  are  not  carried  off 
by  the  disasters  just  mentioned  will  be  despatched  by  the 
fire  which  will  go  before  the  Son  of  Man  when  lie  comes  to 
judgment. 

Such  will  be  the  frightful  scenes,  the  universal  confusion 
and  destruction,  on  that  day  of  wrath,  of  tribulation  and 
distress,  of  calamity  and  misery.  But  while  these  stupen 
dous  operations  of  fire  are  subverting  nature,  and  changing 
the  whole  face  of  the  universe,  the  Son  of  Man  descends 
from  the  highest  heaven  to  come  and  judge  mankind. 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Judge  of  the  world, 
appears  in  the  firmament,  seated  on  a  great  throne,  and  at 
His  presence  the  earth  and  heaven  flee  away  or  disap 
pear  ;  that  is,  the  earth,  the  atmosphere,  and  all  belonging 
to  the  sky,  are  not  only  enwrapped  in  flames,  but  entirely 
pass  and  vanish  out  of  sight,  so  that  their  place  is  not 
found,  and  cannot  be  distinguished. 


216     THE  PRODIGAL  AND  HIS  COMPANIONS  JUDGED: 

The  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars  shine  no  more ;  the 
rivers  run  no  more  ;  the  winds  blow  no  more ;  the  towns 
and  villages,  the  houses  and  churches  and  steeples,  have 
disappeared.  Lands  and  houses  are  worthless,  for  they 
are  all  in  ruins.  Nothing  is  now  visible  of  the  works  of 
creation.  The  sole  object  that  fills  the  expanse  of  heaven 
is  the  resplendent  majesty  of  the  Son  of  God  sitting  on  His 
throne. 

Then  the  dead  of  all  ranks  and  degrees  will  appear  before 
Him — namely,  the  last  generation  of  the  human  race  ;  those 
who  have  just  expired  in  the  general  destruction  of  the 
world.  This  prodigious  multitude  of  souls  will  be  sum 
moned  to  undergo  the  particular  judgment  which  is  ap 
pointed  to  all  men  at  the  hour  of  their  death.  When  this 
numerous  company  of  souls  shall  have  been  judged,  Jesus 
Christ  will  send  forth  His  messenger — an  archangel — to 
blow  the  last  trumpet :  "  Arise,  ye  dead,  and  come  to 
judgment."  At  this  sound,  in  an  instant,  all  the  dead  will 
rise  up  from  their  graves,  never  more  to  die.  "  In  a  mo 
ment,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  at  the 
last  trumpet,  the  dead  shall  rise  again  incorruptible."* 
And  all  the  individuals  of  the  human  race  will  appear  at 
once  and  together,  a  wonderful  spectacle,  that  never  was 
seen  before,  and  will  never  be  seen  after ;  for  this  great  com 
pany  will  soon  be  divided  into  two  bodies,  which  must  sepa 
rate  for  ever. 

The  prophet  Ezechiel  was  carried  in  spirit  to  the  midst  of 
a  plain  of  boundless  extent.  He  there  beheld  heaps  of  bones 
without  number,  scattered  throughout  that  vast  plain.  Then 
God  spoke  to  the  prophet :  "  Command  these  bones,  speak 
to  them  in  my  name;  command  them  to  arise."  The 
prophet  spoke  ;  and  in  a  moment  a  strange  sight  presented 
itself  to  his  eyes.  The  dead  bones  began  to  move ;  they 
flew  apart ;  they  joined  together  with  a  horrible  clatter  ;  the 
*  1  Cor.  xv«  52. 


GENERAL  JUDGMENT.  ?17 

nerves  and  muscles  grew  on  the  bones  ;  and  in  a  moment 
they  were  covered  with  flesh  and  skin  ;  the  Spirit  of  God 
breathed  upon  them  from  the  four  ends  of  the  earth,  and 
they  sprang  to  their  feet.  In  a  moment  the  whole  earth 
was  swarming  with  living  human  heings. 

It  wus  thus  that  God  showed  to  the  prophet  how  bodies 
that  had  commingled  with  other  substances  and  turned  into 
dust  could  be  brought  back  into  existence.  Indeed,  since 
the  beginning  of  the  world  not  an  atom  of  matter  has  ever 
been  lost  or  destroyed.  The  substance  of  matter  never  per 
ishes  ;  the  substance  of  our  bodies  is  not  destroyed. 

Our  Lord,  who  created  our  bodies,  who  causes  them  to 
return  to  dust,  can  also  restore  these  bodies.  As  God 
brought  our  body  and  the  whole  world  itself  out  of  nothing, 
so  can  He  also  bring  back  that  body  out  of  the  dust.  As 
the  grain  of  wheat  must  rot  and  die  before  it  can  become 
fruitful,  before  it  can  produce  life,  so  must  this  gross  ani 
mal  body  of  ours,  says  St.  Paul,  be  sown  in  the  ground  ;  it 
must  rot  there  and  die,  and  then  a  spiritual  body  shall  arise 
— a  body  beautiful,  glorious,  and  impassible. 

All  is  dead  !  all  is  reduced  to  ashes  !  The  whole  earth  is 
one  vast  solitude.  Over  all  reigns  the  solemn  stillness  of  the 
grave.  But  lo  !  the  solemn  stillness  is  broken.  The  wild, 
appalling  sound  of  the  angelic  trumpet  is  heard.  It  goes 
over  land  and  sea  ;  it  reaches  the  highest  heavens  ;  it  pene 
trates  the  deepest  depths  of  hell.  "Arise,  ye  dead,  and 
come  to  judgment."  At  last  the  hour  has  come  when  the 
wicked  companions  of  the  prodigal — all  the  proud  and  self- 
conceited — shall  hear  and  obey  the  word  of  God.  See  that 
proud  man,  who  despises  the  words  that  God  utters  by  His 
holy  Church.  He  is  a  member  of  a  secret  society — a  Free 
mason  or  an  Odd-Fellow ;  he  is  a  self-conceited  wiseacre, 
puffed  up  and  half-crazed  by  a  little  learning.  He  has, 
perhaps,  grown  somewhat  richer  thfiii  his  forefathers  were, 
and,  like  most  upstarts,  he  has  sold  his  faith  and  his  virtue. 


213     THE  PRODIGAL  AND  HIS  COMPANIONS  JUDGED: 

He  lias  acquired  all  the  vices  of  the  rich  without  possessing 
any  of  their  virtues.  His  heart  has  been  hardened  by 
avarice,  by  injustice,  by  impure  gratifications.  He  has 
come  to  despise  the  words  of  the  priest,  the  words  of  the 
Church,  the  word  of  God.  Very  well.  He  would  not  hear; 
he  would  not  obey  the  word  of  God  while  living ;  he  shall 
hear  and  shall  obey  it  in  death:  "Arise,  ye  dead,  and 
come  to  judgment."  Arise  from  your  marble  tombs ;  arise 
from  your  neglected  graves  ;  arise  from  the  dark  rivers ; 
arise  from  the  depths  of  the  ocean  ;  arise  from  the  deepest 
depths  of  hell. 

Slowly  and  sullenly  the  damned  arise  from  their  dismal 
prison.  They  howl,  they  gnash  their  teeth,  they  curse  and 
blaspheme  in  mad  despair,  for  they  know  that  new  torments 
await  them.  They  would  fain  fly  and  fain  bury  themselves 
in  the  depths  of  hell  for  ever  from  the  wrath  of  the  Eternal 
Judge.  But  the  almighty  power  of  God  is  upon  them,  and 
come  they  must. 

All  shall  arise,  but  all  shall  not  be  glorified.  Some  shall 
be  brighter  than  the  sain,  beautiful  as  the  angels  of  God, 
while  others  shall  be  black  and  hideous  as  the  demons  of 
hell.  0  pious  souls  !  what  joy  shall  be  yours  when  you  be 
hold  your  bodies,  which  were  once  despised  by  men — those 
bodies  which  you  mortified  by  fasting  and  penance — made 
more  beautiful  than  the  morning  star,  radiant  with  immor 
tal  glory.  "  0  blessed  body  ! "  you  will  exclaim,  "  faithful 
companion  in  my  sufferings  and  trials,  come,  rejoice  with 
me — the  hour  of  your  glory  has  come  !  You  were  despised 
during  life ;  you  were  worn  out  by  penance  and  hardships  ; 
you  suffered  with  me  ;  come  now,  and  rejoice  with  me  for 
ever."  Such  will  be  the  language  of  all  the  blessed  and  in 
nocent  souls  ;  such,  also,  will  be  the  language  of  all  holy 
penitents,  who,  like  the  prodigal,  returned  in  due  time  to 
their  Heavenly  Father.  But  what  will  be  the  despair  of  the 
prodigal's  companions — that  is,  of  all  those  who  have  always 


GENERAL  JUDGMENT.  219 

led  wicked  lives  ?  What  will  bo  the  despair  of  that  impure 
man,  of  that  vain,  proud  woman,  when  their  guilty  souls  shall 
come  forth  from  the  fiery  dungeon  of  hell,  and  when  they 
will  be  forced  to  enter  once  more  into  their  foul  bodies,  which 
are  now  more  hideous  and  hateful  to  them  than  hell  itself  ! 

0  vain  girl  !  proud  woman  !  you,  who  now  nurse  your 
body  so  tei-derly— you,  who,  even  at  the  expense  of  your 
virtue,  adorn  yourself  with  silks,  and  gold,  and  jewels — you, 
who  are  now  so  anxious  to  preserve  and  heighten  your 
beauty,"  so  desirous  to  draw  upon  you  the  admiring  gaze  of 
all — ah  !  what  will  be  your  shame,  your  agony,  on  that  day 
when  you  shall  see  the  body,v  that  now  seems  so  beautiful, 
hideous  and  loathsome  and  frightful,  like  a  very  monster 
from  hell.  "  Ah!  accursed  body," you  will  cry,  "abominable 
flesh  !  it  is  through  love  of  you  that  I  am  lost ;  it  is  through 
love  of  you  that  I  have  lost  heaven  and  God  !  0  accursed 
body  !  0  horrible  carcass  !  it  was  you  that  caused  me  to 
sin  ;  it  was  to  gratify  your  vanity  and  brutal  lust  that  I  am 
damned  for  ever." 

This  wretched  man  was  courted  and  admired  during  life. 
Men  vied  with  one  another  in  seeking  his  company.  Thev 
considered  themselves  blest  when  he  looked  or  smiled  upon 
them ;  and  now,  what  a  change  !  every  one  flies  from  him 
in  horror  and  disgust. 

This  miserable  woman  was  loved  and  adored  during  life, 
Her  great  beauty  caused  hearts  around  her  to  pine  with 
jealousy  and  envy.  She  gloried  in  the  triumph  of  her  fas 
cinations.  She  counted  with  joyous  pride  the  broken  hearts, 
the  ruined  homes,  that  she  had  caused  ;  the  husbands  se 
duced  from  their  plighted  troth  ;  the  young  men  led  astray 
from  the  path  of  innocence.  She  heeded  not  the  tears  of  a 
fond  mother ;  she  heeded  not  the  tears  of  a  heart-broken 
wife  ;  she  gloried  in  her  sinful  power.  Look  upon  her  now  ! 
Just  God  !  what  a  change  ! — black,  hideous,  deformed  ;  a 
hellish  monster — an  object  of  terror  and  disgust. 


WO      THE  PRODIGAL  AND  ms  COMPANIONS  JUDGED  : 

And  the  angels  of  God  shall  come,  and  shall  separate  the 
wicked  from  the  just,  as  the  goats  are  separated  from  the 
sheep.  There  you  shall  see  the  master  on  one  side,  and  the 
servant  on  the  other.  There  the  priest  shall  stand  on  one 
side  and  shall  see  some  of  his  own  flock  among  the  repro 
bate.  There  that  young  man,  who  sacrificed  his  soul  to  sin 
ful  love,  shall  be  separated  for  ever  from  the  object  of  his 
passion ;  the  drunkard  shall  be  divorced  for  ever  from  his 
good  and  patient  wife ;  and  the  wicked  and  faithless  wife 
shall  stand  on  the  left  with  the  reprobate,  and  shall  see  her 
wronged  and  innocent  husband  standing  on  the  right.  No 
longer  shall  that  frivolous  young  girl,  who  spends  her  time 
in  reading  novels  and  sentimental  love-stories,  whose  only 
pleasure  is  to  frequent  balls,  parties,  theatres,  and  the  like, 
sit  beside  her  pure  and  modest  sister.  No  !  no  !  they  shall 
be  separated  for  ever.  The  one  shall  be  taken,  and  the  other 
shall  be  left. 

And  the  wicked  parents,  who  scandalize  their  children 
by  cursing,  quarrelling,  and  drunkenness,  shcill  see  their 
children  placed  on  the  right  hand,  while  they  themselves 
shall  be  thrust  to  the  left.  The  wicked  children,  too,  who 
disobey  and  grieve  their  parents,  who  despise  and  disown 
their  parents,  shall  stand  on  the  left.  Nevermore  shall  they 
experience  a  mother's  love  and  tender  care. 

Jesus  Christ  will  bring  you  forth  in  presence  of  the 
whole  universe,  in  presence  of  angels,  and  devils,  and  men ; 
in  presence  of  your  friends,  your  relatives,  your  parents. 
Every  one  shall  witness  your  crimes.  The  eyes  of  every 
living  being  shall  be  turned  upon  you.  He  will  draw  aside 
the  cloak  that  now  hides  your  crimes.  He  will  show  you 
to  the  whole  world,  with  your  most  shameful  deeds  branded 
upon  your  forehead ;  and  will  say  to  all,  Ecce  homo— Be 
hold,  the  man;  behold  this  man  whom  I  have  created  in  my 
own  image  and  likeness  ;  behold  his  works ;  see  how  he  has 
dishonored  his  person ;  how  he  has  degraded  his  soul,  even 


GENERAL  JUDGMENT.  221 

from  his  early  childhood.  Ecce  homo  et  opera  ejus.  Be 
hold  this  man ;  behold  his  works  ;  behold  all  the  sins  of  his 
youth  ;  his  lustful  desires,  his  immodest  actions.  See  the 
books  that  he  has  read,  the  songs  that  he  has  sung,  the 
scandalous  and  impious  words  that  he  has  uttered.  Be 
hold  him  in  his  manhood  ;  behold  him  in  his  old  age.  How 
many  sins  has  he  committed  ! — sins  of  drunkenness,  sins  of 
injustice.  He  grew  rich  by  oppressing  the  poor,  by  de 
frauding  the  widow  and  the  orphan.  See  the  crimes  he  has 
committed  under  the  veil  of  marriage.  Ecce  homo — Be 
hold  the  man  whom  I  have  enriched  with  so  many  graces, 
and  see  what  return  he  has  made  for  all  my  gifts.  I  gave 
him  the  sacraments,  and  he  profaned  them  ;  I  sent  him  holy 
inspirations,  and  he  rejected  them  ;  I  showed  him  so  many 
edifying  examples,  and  he  only  ridiculed  them ;  I  gave  him 
riches  ;  I  gave  him  health  ;  I  gave  him  a  good  name  ;  and 
he  used  them  all  only  to  offend  and  to  dishonor  me. 
"Nothing  is  hidden,  that  shall  not  be  known."  * 

All  your  most  hidden  actions  and  thoughts  and  inten 
tions  and  desires  shall  be  revealed.  The  eyes  of  every  liv 
ing  being  shall  be  riveted  upon  you.  The  whole  world  shall 
look  upon  the  degradation  of  the  impure.  The  heaven? 
and  the  earth  shall  be  made  acquainted  with  the  shameful 
crimes  of  their  youth.  They  shall  know  that  they  dishon 
ored  soul  and  body  by  secret  and  abominable  sins.  They 
shall  see  that  age  only  increased  the  fire  of  their  passions. 
All  men  shall  see  how  the  fury  of  their  passions  sometimes 
carried  them  so  far  that  they  knew  no  bounds  and  trans 
gressed  the  most  sacred  laws  of  nature.  All  men  shall  see 
that  they  did  not  even  respect  their  own  blood.  Could  tney 
only  be  called  forth  now  in  the  gaze  of  the  world  and  their 
secret  sins  thus  disclosed,  they  would  die  of  shame.  What, 
then,  will  their  shame  be  when  the  whole  universe  shall 
Tfitness  their  crimes  ? 

*  Luke  xll.  2. 


222      TSE  PRODIGAL  AND  HIS  COMPANIONS  JUDGED  : 

Suppose  that  girl  who  now  keeps  forbidden  company,  who 
allows  improper  liberties,  who  even  dishonors  her  soul  and 
body  in  secret,  were  caught  in  the  act  even  by  a  single  per 
son,  how  great  would  be  her  shame  and  confusion  !  0  poor 
deluded  creature  !  on  the  day  of  judgment  your  sins  shall 
be  made  known  to  all.  You  have  employed  every  means  to 
hide  your  crime  ;  you  have  chosen  the  fittest  time,  you  have 
chosen  the  securest  place,  the  most  secret  nook ;  you  never 
disclosed  your  crime  to  any  one — no,  not  even  to  your  con 
fessor.  So  great  was  your  shame  at  the  thought  of  confess 
ing  that  sin  that,  rather  than  acknowledge  it,  you  chose  to 
make  sacrilegious  confessions,  or  to  stay  away  from  confes 
sion  altogether,  though  you  knew  that  without  a  sincere 
confession  there  was  no  hope  for  you ;  that  you  would  be 
infallibly  lost.  You  flattered  yourself  that  your  sin  would 
never  be  known.  You  succeeded  in  deceiving  the  watchful 
ness  of  your  father,  of  your  mother,  of  your  whole  family  ; 
you  succeeded  even  in  deceiving  your  parish  priest.  Every 
one  looked  upon  you  as  a  model  of  virtue  and  modesty ; 
even  to  suspect  you  of  anything  wrong  would  have  been 
considered  a  crime  ;  and  now,  what  will  be  your  shame  on 
the  day  of  judgment  ?  Your  father  shall  see  your  sins ; 
your  mother  shall  see  them;  your  brothers,  your  sisters, 
your  friends  and  neighbors,  your  parish  priest,  whom  you  de 
ceived — all  shall  see  your  most  secret  actions  and  desires. 

When  you  committed  those  secret  and  shameful  sins,  you 
though i-  that  you  were  alone,  and  that  no  one  saw  you  ;  you 
forgot  God.  God  saw  you.  You  forgot  that  your  guardiat 
angel,  that  the  devil,  too,  saw  you  ;  and  on  the  day  of  judg 
ment  they  will  bear  witness  against  you ;  even  the  lifeless 
objects  around  you  shall  cry  aloud  in  judgment  against 
you. 

And  now,  amid  that  great  spectacle,  another  wonderful 
sight  is  seen.  All  nations  and  peoples,  from  Adam  to  the 
last  child  born  on  the  earth,  are  gathered  together  in  the 


GENERAL  JUDGMENT.  223 

Valley  of  Josaphat,  on  the  east  side  of  Jerusalem.  What 
endless  and  innumerahle  crowds  are  there  waiting  in  expec 
tation  !  The  heavens  open,  and  the  blessed  cross,  the  sign  of 
the  redemption,  shines  in  the  air.  Beautiful  and  consoling 
sight  to  the  good  Catholic,  but  horrible  sight  to  the 
damned.  "  Ha  !  "  the  sinner  shrieks,  '*  there  is  the  sign  of 
the  cross.  That  is  the  sign  I  have  so  often  insulted  and 
blasphemed ;  I  have  called  it  Popish  superstition  ;  I  have 
trampled  it  under  foot ;  and  now  it  is  reverenced  by  angels 
and  saints,  it  is  honored  by  God  Himself.  That  cross  was 
crimsoned  for  my  sake  with  the  blood  of  a  God.  It  should 
be  the  source  of  my  hope,  and  now  it  is  only  an  object  of 
terror  to  me.  It  proves  too  clearly  the  justice  of  all  my  tor 
ments.  I  was  marked  with  its  seal  in  baptism,  and  yet  my 
feelings  towards  it  were  rather  those  of  a  Jew  or  a  heathen 
than  a  Christian.  By  my  sins  I  have  nailed  Him  to  the 
cross  who  is  now  to  be  my  Judge." 

And  now  a  light  more  brilliant  still,  brighter  than  a  thou 
sand  suns,  illumines  the  sky.  Upon  the  refulgent  clouds  of 
heaven  appears  One  who  is  like  unto  the  Son  of  Man.  He 
is  more  beautiful  than  the  morning-star.  He  is  clothed 
with  majesty  and  glory  ;  He  is  surrounded  by  myriads  of 
angels.  It  is  Jesus,  the  Son  of  God,  the  Judge  of  the  living 
and  the  dead. 

Millions  and  millions  of  angels  and  archangels  accom 
pany  Him.  He  seats  himself  on  the  judgment-seat,  where 
every  eye  beholds  Him.  On  His  right  hand  sits  His  Bless 
ed  Mother,  the  Queen  of  Heaven.  Around  Him  on  thrones 
are  seated  the  twelve  Apostles.  "Who  can  imagine  the  joy 
of  the  elect  when  they  behold  the  ravishing  beauty  of 
Jesus?  In  the  transports  of  their  joy  they  fly  into  the  air, 
they  soar  aloft  like  eagles.  With  trembling  rapture  they 
adore  the  foot-stool  of  their  Saviour  and  God  !  They  are 
called  and  placed  on  the  right  of  the  judgment-seat;  and 
on  the  left  are  the  wicked,  awaiting  their  final  doom.  It,  in 


224      THE  PRODIGAL  AND  HIS  COMPANIONS  JUDGED  : 

the  evening  of  that  day,  the  last  evening  that  will  ever  be 
The  examination  lias  been  made,  and  the  final  separatioi 
taken  place.  Jesus  is  about  to  pronounce  the  last  sentence 
lie  turns  to  those  on  His  right  and  addresses  them  ii 
words  that  bring  eternal  joy  and  happiness  to  their  souls 
He  smiles  upon  them ;  and  as  He  smiles.  He  pours  into  thei 
hearts  the  torrent  of  His  delights.  What  transports  fil 
those  blessed  souls  !  Already,  already  their  labors  an< 
sufferings  are  abundantly  repaid.  For  let  us  imagine,  if  w< 
can,  what  it  is  to  behold  the  face  of  God,  looking  with  com 
placency  on  us ;  to  behold  the  gates  of  heaven  thrown  opei 
before  us;  to  behold  the  numberless  multitudes  of  angels 
our  future  companions,  looking  upon  us  with  looks  of  love 
and  with  extended  arms  ready  to  bear  us  away  to  the  man 
sions  of  heaven. 

That  blessed  moment  has  come  at  last.  Their  loving 
8'iviour  stretches  out  His  arms  towards  them,  and,  after  i 
glorious  rehearsal  of  all  their  good  works,  "then  shall  tin 
King  say  to  them  that  shall  be  on  His  right  hand  :  Come.  y< 
blessed  of  my  Father,  possess  you  the  kingdom  prepared  fo: 
you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world."  Come  from  thii 
valley  of  tears,  where  you  have  long  mourned,  and  entei 
your  heavenly  country,  where  tears  shall  be  no  more,  anc 
where  grief  shall  be  turned  into  joy.  Come  from  a  land  o: 
exile  to  your  true  country ;  from  your  mortal  pilgrimage,  ir 
the  midst  of  crosses,  labors,  conflicts,  and  dangers,  to  you] 
blessed  and  happy  home,  in  the  fair  and  lovely  mansions  oJ 
rest  and  peace  in  the  eternal  Jerusalem.  Come,'  no  longei 
to  carry  your  crown  of  disappointment  and  of  affliction^ 
but  to  receive  the  rewards  of  your  patience  and  labors, 
Arise,  and  come  to  take  possession  of  the  kingdom  prepared 
for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world. 

The  song  of  exultation  and  triumph  shall  instantly  bursi 
from  the  lips  of  that  glorious  assembly.  After  having  in 
vited  the  just  to  enter  into  His  kingdom,  Jesus  Christ  wiU 


GENERAL  JUDGMENT.  225 

turn  to  the  wicked  on  his  left  hand,  and  with  fire  in  His 
eyes  and  terror  in  his  countenance,  He  will  pronounce 
against  them  the  dreadful  sentence  of  their  eternal  doom. 
Every  word  of  that  last  sentence  will  make  the  Valley  of 
Josaphat  resound  with  shrieks,  groans,  and  lamentations : 
"  Depart  from  me,  ye  accursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  which 
was  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels." 

"Depart  from  me,  ye  accursed."  I,  your  Creator,  your 
Eedeemer,  now  break  for  ever  all  the  ties  of  love  that  bound 
you  to  me.  Depart  from  me,  your  Creator.  I  formed  you 
in  mine  own  image.  I  created  you  to  be  sharers  in  my  hap 
piness,  to  be  the  heirs  of  my  heavenly  kingdom.  For  your 
sake  I  called  into  being  the  great  universe.  I  filled  you 
with  graces  and  blessings,  and  had  blessings  greater  still  in 
store  for  you,  had  you  remained  faithful.  But  you  repaid 
all  my  love  with  insult,  all  my  favors  with  ingratitude.  1 
loved  you  so  dearly  that  I  wept  and  suffered  anjl  even  shed 
my  heart's  blood  for  you  upon  the  gibbet  of  the  cross,  and 
for  all  my  love  you  returned  only  coldness  or  hatred ;  you 
hated  me,  the  source  of  all  blessings.  You  loved  maledic 
tion,  and  malediction  shall  be  yours.  I  then  give  you  my 
curse  this  day,  here  in  the  presence  of  angels  and  of  men. 
This  curse  shall  surround  you  like  a  garment ;  it  shall  enter 
like  oil  into  the  very  marrow  of  your  bones.  "Discedite 
a  me,  maledicti " — Depart  from  me,  ye  accursed  !  And 
the  fearful  curse  resounds  throughout  the  vault  of  heaven ; 
it  penetrates  to  the  deepest  depths  of  hell ;  it  ^e-echoes 
again  and  again  like  the  roar  of  mighty  thunder.  Woe  ! 
woe  !  malediction  ! 

"  Discedite,  maledicti ! "  Depart  into  that  abode  of  sorrow 
and  despair  where  the  worm  shall  never  die  and  the  fire 
shall  never  quench.  Depart  into  the  abode  of  endless 
despair,  where  there  is  no  hope — no,  no  teven  the  hope  of 
death  !  During  life  you  served  the  devil  and  his  angels  ;  you 
calumniated  the  virtuous,  you  led  others  into  sin,  you  ruined 


226      THE  PRODIGAL  AND  HIS  COMPANIONS  JUDGED  : 

innocent  souls.  Depart,  then,  accursed  into  everlasting  fire, 
prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels.  Depart  from  me,  and 
bear  my  curse  with  you.  A  curse  upon  your  eyes,  never  tc 
see  the  least  glimpse  of  light ;  a  curse  upon  your  ears,  tc 
hear  no  other  sounds  for  all  eternity  than  the  shrieks  and 
groans  of  the  damned  ;  a  curse  in  your  taste,  to  be  evei 
embittered  with  the  gall  of  dragons  ;  a  curse  on  your  smell, 
to  be  always  tormented  with  the  intolerable  stench  of  the 
bottomless  abyss ;  a  curse  on  your  feeling,  and  on  all  the 
members  of  your  body,  to  be  for  ever  burning  in  a  fire  thai 
shall  never  be  quenched.  I  abandon  you  now  and  for  ever 
more  to  be  the  objects  of  my  wrath,  of  my  malediction,  oi 
my  everlasting  hatred. 

The  unhappy  sinner  raises  his  eyes  and  beholds  for  the  last 
time  the  glorious  assembly  of  the  Blessed.  He  sees  among 
them  the  friends  and  relatives  whom  he  knew  and  loved  so 
well  on  earth.  He  sees  there  a  loving  brother  and  sister,  a 
fond  father  and  mother.  He  must  leave  them  for  ever. 
The  unhappy  mother  looks  up  and  beholds  among  the 
blessed  her  own  dear  child,  who  had  so  often  slept  on  her 
bosom.  She  must  now  leave  him  for  ever.  The  damned  look 
up  to  Heaven,  whose  golden  portals  now  open  to  the  Blessed, 
but  shall  never,  never  open  to  them.  "  0  Paradise  !  "  they 
cry — "  0  Paradise,  0  home  of  the  blessed,  Paradise  of 
delights,  you  are  not  for  me  !  0  God  of  beauty,  unuttera 
ble  loveliness  !  must  I  leave  thee  for  ever  ?  Farewell,  Father 
of  mercies  !  we  are  thy  children  no  longer.  Farewell,  0 
Jesus  !  we  are  no  longer  thy  brethren.  Farewell,  0  adorable 
Redeemer!  thou  didst  die  for  me,  but  thy  blood  was  shed  for 
me  in  vain.  Farewell,  0  Holy  Spirit !  spirit  of  love,  we  by 
our  sins  have  caused  your  love  to  turn  to  hate.  Farewell, 
0  Mary  !  you  were  once  my  mother,  I  may  never  call  you 
mother  again.  Farewell,  my  Angel  Guardian  !  you  watched 
over  me  so  faithfully,  now  you  can  assist  me  no  longer.  Fare 
well,  my  Patron  S«ints  !  you  shall  pray  for  me  no  longer. 


GENERAL  JUDGMENT.  227 

The  last  farewell  is  over,  and  the  condemned  soul  is  in 
hell.  Oh  !  had  I  given  myself  in  earnest  to  God,  will  be 
its  thought;  had  I  but  earnestly  tried  to  serve  God,  as  I 
was  so  often  urged  to  do  by  His  graces,  how  much  happier 
would  my  life  on  earth  have  been,  and  how  different  my 
eternal  lot.  If  only  one  hour  were  now  allowed  me  for 
repentance ;  but  the  hour  of  repentance  is  past  1  "  Out  of 
hell  there  is  no  redemption."  Ah  !  cursed  be  the  power 
that  created  me  I  cursed  be  the  mercy  that  redeemed  me  1 
cursed  be  the  day  on  which  I  first  saw  the  light !  cursed  be 
the  air  I  breathed  !  cursed  be  the  mother  that  bore  me  1 
cursed  be  God  and  cursed  be  man  !  It  is  a  dreadful  thing 
to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Almighty  ! 

Whilst  these  unhappy  souls  are  uttering  their  curses  and 
bewailing  their  loss,  a  whirlwind  of  fire  and  flames  envelops 
them,  the  bottomless  pit  yawns  beneath  their  feet,  a  wild, 
confused  shout,  mingled  with  wailing,  shrieks,  and  blasphe 
mies,  is  heard — and  all  is  over.  The  mouth  of  the  bottom 
less  pit  is  sealed  for  ever  with  the  seal  of  justice  of  the 
omnipotent  God,  who  holds  in  his  hands  the  key  of  death 
and  hell.  And  *  *  the  wicked  shall  go  into  everlasting  fire, 
and  the  just  into  everlasting  life." 

Heaven  to  these,  and  quenchless  light — 
Hell  to  those,  and  rayless  night. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 
THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED — HELL  OF  THE 

BODY. 

A  T  the  beginning  of  the  second  century,  there  lived  al 
•£*•  Heliopolis,  in  Sicily,  a  young  person  named  Eudoxia, 
who  led  a  very  irregular  and  scandalous  life.  One  day,  a 
priest,  who  was  called  Germanus,  passing  through  that  city, 
came  to  lodge  witli  Eudoxia's  parents,  because  they  were 
Christians.  At  midnight  he  arose  to  say  some  particular 
prayers  and  recite  the  office  of  the  Church.  It  so  happened 
that  there  was  in  the  office  for  that  day  a  description  of  the 
torments  of  hell  and  the  excruciating  sufferings  of  the 
damned.  As  the  good  priest  recited  it  aloud,  Eudoxia, 
whose  chamber  was  adjacent  to  his,  heard  the  greater  part 
oi  it.  The  silence  of  the  night,  the  great  darkness,  the 
hushed  repose  of  all  nature,  and  especially  the  grace 
of  God,  which  touched  her  heart,  suddenly  effected  an  ex 
traordinary  change  within  her.  She  began  to  reflect  on  her 
evil  doings,  and  on  the  eternal  torments  which  would  be 
the  inevitable  consequence  of  her  mode  of  life  if  she  did  not 
change  it.  Scarcely  had  the  day  appeared  when  she  rose 
and  went  in  search  of  the  strange  priest,  to  inform  him  of 
her  resolution  to  alter  her  life.  He  confirmed  her  in  her 
good  dispositions,  gave  her  some  profitable  advice,  and  prom 
ised  that,  if  she  were  faithful,  God  would  forgive  her  her 
sins.  "  I  regret,"  added  the  pious  priest,  "  being  obliged  to 
depart  so  soon  ;  but  you  will  go  and  have  yourself  instructed 
by  one  of  the  priests  of  this  city,  who  will  baptize  you,  and 
all  your  sins  will  be  effaced — forgotten."  Eudoxia  followed 

298 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED.       229 

his  advice,  and  had  the  happiness  of  being  martyred  about 
the  year  114.* 

The  conversion  of  Eudoxia  is  a  striking  illustration  of  the 
wholesome  effects  which  are  produced  in  souls  by  seriously  re 
flecting  on  hell.  Indeed,  there  is  hardly  anything  better  cal 
culated  to  make  us  give  up  sin  and  lead  a  holy  life  than  the 
frequent  remembrance  of  hell.  The  Holy  Ghost  assures  us  of 
this  truth.  "  Remember  thy  last  end,"  says  Holy  Scripture, 
'and  thou  wilt  never  sin."  "Yes,"  says  St.  Ignatius  of 
joyola,  "  he  who  warms  himself  often  at  the  fire  of  hell 
luring  his  life,  will  not  fall  into  it  after  his  death."  St. 
Philip  Neri  used  to  say  the  same  in  other  words  :  "  Whoever," 
lie  said,  "  often  goes  into  hell  in  the  course  of  his  life,  will 
keep  out  of  it  after  his  death."  And  with  good  reason,  for 
there  is  no  thought  more  powerful  to  assist  us  in  overcoming 
the  greatest  temptations  than  that  of  eternal  torments. 
The  greatest  saints  have  often  renewed  the  memory  of  these 
torments  for  their  greater  spiritual  advantage.  St.  Augus 
tine  often  preached  on  hell.  Whilst  speaking  on  this  sub 
ject  he  trembled  in  his  whole  body,  and  affrighted  his  hear 
ers  by  his  palpitations  more  than  by  his  words.  "You 
tremble,  my  brethren,"  he  said.  "  I,  too,  tremble,  both  for 
myself  and  for  you.  I  have  read  our  divine  books  ;  I  have 
not  read  any  passage  in  Holy  Writ  telling  me  not  to  fear." 
St.  Jerome  retired  into  the  depths  of  a  great  wilderness. 
There  his  countenance  was  bathed  in  tears  every  day.  The 
desert  re-echoed  with  his  sobs  and  sighs.  He  took  a  stone  in 
his  hand  and  struck  his  breast  with  it  until  his  breast  began 
to  bleed.  What  made  him  do  all  this  ?  His  great  fear  of 
hell,  as  he  himself  acknowledges  in  his  letter  to  Eusto- 
chium. 

St.  John  Chrysostom  had  hell  painted  in  glaring  colors 
in  the  room  in  which  he  dwelt.  At  every  glance  and  in 
every  action  he  wished  to  recall  to  mind  this  salutary 

*  Holland  us,  Act.  Sanct.,  1st  March. 


230        THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED  : 

thought  of  hell.  St.  Bernard,  having  meditated  deeply  on 
hell  one  day,  made  a  resolution  never  to  laugh  again 
during  his  life.  From  the  dopth  of  his  solitude  he  cried 
out  :  "  0  hell  !  country  of  torments  and  of  fire,  to  think  of 
thee  fills  my  soul  with  horror."  * 

St.  Francis  Borgia  often  made  his  meditation  on  hell. 
He  was  once  asked  why  he  appeared  so  unusually  sad.  "  I 
have  made  my  meditation  on  hell,"  was  the  reply,  "and  I 
am  so  deeply  impressed  by  it  that  it  seems  to  me  the  whole 
world  is  looking  upon  me  as  a  monster  of  that  abyss,  spread 
ing  terror  wherever  it  goes."  St.  Peter  Damian  tells  us  that 
his  hair  would  stand  on  end  at  the  mere  thought  of  an  un 
happy  eternity. 

St.  Frances  de  Chantal  used  to  tell  her  sisters  in  religion 
"  that  she  would  fear  very  much  for  the  salvation  of  that 
one  among  them  who  would  lose  the  fear  of  hell."  If. 
then,  the  saints  had  so  great  a  fear  of  hell,  what  ought  to 
be  the  fear  of  sinners  ? 

But  some  one  may  say,  "I  am  not  a  Catholic,  and  I  hold 
that  there  is  no  hell."  The  question  is  :  Are  you  perfectly 
sure  of  this  ?  Can  you  prove  it  ?  There  have  been  men, 
far  more  learned  probably,  and  far  more  wicked,  too,  than 
any  who  will  read  this  book,  and  they  tried  very  hard  to 
prove  that  there  is  no  hell.  But  they  could  never  succeed. 
The  inBdel  J.  J.  Eousseau  was  asked  if  there  was  a  hell, 
and  all  he  could  say  was  that  he  did  not  know.  The  im 
pious  Voltaire  wrote  to  a  friend  that,  though  he  had  tried 
long  to  prove  that  there  is  no  hell,  he  could  not  succeed. 
All  that  such  wicked  men  can  say,  with  all  their  arguments, 
is  that  perhaps  there  is  no  hell.  But  to  this  "  perhaps  "  is 
opposed  a  terrible  yea.  It  is  the  assertion  of  the  living  God 
Himself.  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  asserts  in  the  clear 
est  language  that  there  is  a  hell.  He  asserts  it  at  least  fif 
teen  times  in  the  Holy  Gospels.  And  is  it  more  reasonable 

*  Serm.  de  5  regionib. 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY.  23 \ 

to  believe  a  man  who  doubts  of  what  he  says,  or  God,  who 
knows  what  He  asserts  ?  Is  it  more  reasonable  to  believe 
a  man  who  has  never  thoroughly  studied  that  which  he  de 
nies,  or  the  God  of  truth,  who  assures  us  that  the  heavens 
and  the  earth  shall  pass  away,  but  that  His  words  shall 
never  pass  away  ?  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  tells  us  in  the 
most  solemn  manner  that  there  is  a  hell,  that  the  just  shall 
go  into  everlasting  life,  and  that  the  wicked  shall  go  into 
everlasting  fire  ;  that  the  damned  in  hell  shall  be  salted  with 
fire;  that  "their  worm  shall  not  die,  and  their  fire  shall 
never  quench."  Consider  who  it  is  that  speaks  :  it  is  Jesus, 
the  Blessed  Saviour,  who  is  so  good  and  merciful. 

Many  a  sinner  wishes  that  there  were  no  hell.  But  what 
do  wishes  avail  ?  Whether  you  believe  it  or  not,  there  is  a 
hell;  there  is  an  eternal  punishment.  If  we  are  told  that 
there  is  a  city  called  Rome,  we  may  deny  it,  we  may  bring 
the  most  subtle  arguments  to  our  aid,  but  for  all  that  the 
city  exists;  it  is  a  fact.  And  if  we  are  told  by  Christ  that 
there  is  a  hell,  and  an  eternal  punishment,  we  may  deny  it, 
and  bring  the  most  subtle  arguments  to  the  contrary  ;  still 
hell — an  eternal  hell — is  a  fact  that  cannot  be  ciphered 
away. 

Holy  Church,  the  pillar  and  ground  of  truth,  declares,  in 
the  clearest  terms,  that  hell  exists,  and  she  strikes  with  her 
anathema  all  those  who  dare  deny  its  existence.  All  ages, 
all  nations,  unite  in  proclaiming  that  there  is  a  hell.  The 
d onions  themselves  bear  witness  to  it;  reason  requires  it. 
The  soul  that  quits  her  body  in  the  state  of  mortal  sin,  at 
enmity  with  God,  remains  in  that  state  for  all  eternity ; 
she  is  fixed,  unalterable,  and  for  this  reason  she  can  no  more 
repent.  "Wherever  the  tree  falleth,  there  it  shall  lie.'' 
As  she  can  no  more  repent,  her  sin  can  never  be  forg/ven  ; 
it  will  always  remain  ;  and  on  this  account  she  continues  to 
be  for  ever  a  subject  of  punishment. 

This  ought  to  be  sufficient  proof  for  the  existence  of  hell, 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED: 

of  everlasting  punishments.  However,  if  there  be  any  one 
who  still  doubts,  let  him  look  upon  Jesus  on  the  cross.  The 
cross,  the  blood,  the  wounds  of  Jesus  preach  most  eloquently 
the  dread  reality  of  these  never-ending  torments.  An  eter 
nal  God  suffers,  an  eternal  God  dies  a  most  cruel,  shame 
ful  death.  And  why?  Certainly  not  to  save  man  from 
temporal  punishment,  but  to  save  him  from  eternal  tor 
ments. 

Again,  let  him  who  doubts  the  existence  of  an  everlasting 
hell  look  into  his  own  conscience.  Call  to  mind  that  secret 
sin,  committed  when  the  darkness  and  silence  of  night  sur 
rounded  you,  when  only  God's  all-seeing  eye  beheld  you. 
Whence  came  the  fear  and  shame  that  then  overwhelmed 
you  ?  Did  not  your  conscience  torture  you  with  the  remem 
brance  of  hell,  of  the  torments  reserved  for  the  wicked  ? 

But  some  one  may  ask,  Would  it  not  argue  cruelty  and  a 
want  of  mercy  in  God  were  he  to  punish  the  wicked  for 
ever?  The  answer  is  plain:  God  has  decreed  that  the  re 
wards  destined  for  the  just  in  heaven  in  return  for  their 
good  lives  on  earth  should  surpass  all  that  the  eye  has  seen, 
the  ear  has  heard,  the  heart  has  conceived.  In  like  manner 
has  God  decreed  that  the  punishments  which  the  wicked  have 
to  suffer  in  hell  for  their  bad  lives  should  surpass  all  that  we 
can  see,  all  that  we  can  hear,  all  that  we  can  conceive  in  our 
heart.  God  has  decreed  that  the  rewards  of  the  just  should 
last  for  ever,  and  he  has  also  decreed  that  the  punishments 
of  the  wicked  shall  be  everlasting.  It  is  the  will  of  the  Lord 
that  by  the  everlasting  rewards  of  the  just  His  infinite  mercy 
should  be  glorified  for  all  eternity ;  and  it  is  also  His  will 
that  by  the  everlasting  punishments  of  the  wicked  His  in 
finite  justice  should  be  made  manifest  for  ever  and  ever. 
Let  us  "think  well  of  the  Lord";  that  is,  we  must  believe 
that  the  justice  of  God  is  just  as  great  as  his  mercy.  Let 
him  who  doubts  of  hell,  of  its  everlasting  punishments, 
remember  what  our  Lord  said  of  Judas,  the  traitor:  "Woe 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY  233 

to  that  man  !  It  were  better  tor  nim  if  he  had  not  been 
born."*  Why  ?  Because  he  went  into  hell.  To-day,  hell 
may  seem  the  greatest  folly.  He  who  believes  not  in  hell 
now,  when  lie  can  escape  it,  shall  believe  in  it  hereafter 
when  he  can  no'  longer  escape  it. 

Now,  what  is  hell  ?  It  is  impossible  to  picture  the  reality. 
Whatever  is  related  of  hell  in  the  sacred  Scriptures,  in  the 
writings  of  the  fathers  of  the  Church,  or  in  the  sermons  of 
holy  missionaries,  is  nothing  compared  to  the  reality.  God 
made  hell  as  a  particular  place  of  punishment  for  the  wicked. 
It  is  therefore  the  centre  of  all  evils.  "  I  will  heap  evils 
upon  them."  f  As  in  heaven  God  has  united  every  good,  so 
in  hell  He  lias  united  every  evil.  He  will  punish  sinners  in 
proportion  to  the  mercy  which  He  showed  them  on  earth, 
but  which  they  abused.  But  the  mercy  that  He  has  shown 
to  sinners  on  earth  has  been  exceeding  great.  He  went  so 
far  as  to  shed  all  his  blood  to  save  them.  If,  then,  His 
mercy  towards  sinners  was  exceeding  great,  exceeding  great 
also  will  His  justice  be  in  punishing  them.  Hence  all  that 
can  be  said  of  the  pains  of  hell  can  never  approach  the 
reality. 

There  is  a  hell  of  the  body  and- a  hell  of  the  soul.  "Fear 
Him  that  can  destroy  both  soul  and  body  in  hell."J  As 
soon  as  the  soul  has  quitted  the' body  in  the  state  of  mortal 
sin,  she  is  judged  and  condemned,  and  instantly  sinks,  like 
a  heavy  stone,  swiftly  to  her  destination  in  hell,  to  the  cen 
tre  of  the  earth,  where  it  is  likely  that  hell  is  situated.  Al 
mighty  God  has  said  that  "  He  will  turn  the  wicked  into 
the  bowels  of  the  earth."  § 

In  the  days  of  Moses,  the  great  servant  of  God,  there  were 
three  wicked  men  whose  names  were  Core,  Dathan,  and  Abi- 
ron.  They  revolted  against  Moses,  the  leader  of  the  people 
of  God ;  and  God  told  Moses  that  He  was  going  to  punish 

*  Matt.  xxvi.  24.  +  Deut.  innriiT  24. 

*  Matt.  x.  28.  9  Eoclus.  xvii.  19. 


234        THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED  : 

these  wicked  men.  Moses  went  and  told  the  people  to  come 
away  from  those  men,  and  the  people  obeyed  him.  Then 
Moses  said  to  them :  "By  this  you  shall  know  that  God  has 
sent  me  :  if  these  wicked  men  die  like  other  men,  then  do 
net  believe  me ;  but  if  the  earth  opens  and  swallows  them, 
and  they  go  down  alive  into  hell,  then  you  shall  know  that 
they  are  wicked." 

No  sooner  had  Moses  done  speaking  than  the  earth  opened 
under  the  feet  of  Core,  Dathan,  and  Abiron.  It  drew  them 
in  with  all  they  had,  and  they  went  down  alive  into  hell. 
Then  the  earth  closed  up  over  thorn  again.*  The  same  thing 
happened  to  the  cruel  king  Theodoric,  who  lived  in  Ea- 
venna.  At  the  same  time  Pope  John  was  living  in  Rome. 
The  Pope  went  one  day  to  the  town  where  Theodoric  was 
living.  When  the  king  heard  that  the  Pope  was  come,  he 
had  him  arrested  and  put  in  prison,  where  he  was  soon  after 
killed  by  Theodoric's  order,  as  was  also  another  good  man 
called  Symmachus.  Soon  after  this,  St.  Gregory  relates,  the 
cruel  king  Theodoric  himself  died.  In  the  Mediterranean 
Sea  there  is  a  little  island  called  Stromboli,  and  on  this 
island  a  great  mountain,  from  the  summit  of  which  fire  was 
wont  to  issue.  A  holy  hermit  lived  on  the  island  in  a  small 
cell.  It  happened  that  on  the  night  when  King  Theodoric 
died  the  hermit  was  looking  out  of  his  window.  He  saw 
three  persons,  whom  he  knew  to  be  dead,  near  the  top  of  the 
fiery  mountain.  The  three  persons  were  Theodoric,  who 
had  died  that  night,  Pope  John,  and  Symmachus,  who  had 
been  unjustly  killed  by  Theodoric.  Theodoric  was  between 
the  other  two.  When  they  came  to  the  place  where  the  fire 
was  coming  out,  he  saw  Tbeodoric  leave  the  two,  and  go 
down  into  the  fiery  mountain.  So,  says  St.  Gregory,  those 
who  had  seen  the  cruel  king's  injustice  saw  also  his  pun 
ishment. 

Job  calls  this  prison  a  place  of  darkness,  where  no  order 
*  Num.  xvi 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY.  235 

but  everlasting  horrors  have  their  eettlcd  abode.  That  is  to 
say,  there  is  no  order  as  regards  the  actions  of  the  damned, 
but  there  is  perfect  order  as  regards  the  justice  of  God  ;  for 
"  God  punishes  disorders  with  order,  follies  with  wisdom,  sin 
with  sanctity,  injustice  with  equity,"  says  St.  Gregory.  The 
sun,  in  striking  several  persons  with  the  same  rays,  makes 
different  impressions  on  them,  because  they  feel  its  heat 
according  to  the  disposition  in  which  it  finds  them.  So 
the  same  fire  torments  the  damned,  but  not  with  equal  vio 
lence  ;  they  are  more  or  less  punished  according  to  the 
greater  or  less  gravity  of  their  crimes. 

Moreover,  order  shines  in  their  sufferings,  because  each  bad 
thought,  word,  and  action  shall  have  its  own  peculiar  punish 
ment.  The  part  that  sinned  most  shall  be  the  most 
grievously  punished.  Finally,  order  appears  in  the  choice 
of  chastisement:  the  proud  man  shall  suffer  contempt  and 
confusion,  the  impure  shall  suffer  physical  pain,  the  intem 
perate,  hunger  and  thirst. 

The  instruments  of  the  sufferings  shall  be  the  creatures 
which  they  abused  for  their  sinful  pleasures,  because,  as  the 
wise  man  says,  each  one  is  tormented  by  things  which  be 
used  to  commit  sin.  The  object  of  their  unlawful  joys  shall 
become  the  instruments  of  their  just  punishments. 

But  what  is  their  position  in  this  dark,  hideous  prison  ? 
They  shall  be  cast  into  the  fire  as  dried  wood  ;  they  shall 
be  gathered  into  the  abyss  like  bundles  of  sticks;  they 
shall  be  heaped  there  like  bricks  in  a  brick-kiln,  without 
the  least  power  of  motion. 

When  God  in  loving-kindness  had  freed  the  Jewish 
people  from  the  galling  yoke  of  the  Egyptian  tyranny,  he 
led  them  through  the  desert  towards  the  beautiful  land  of 
promise.  But  the  Jews  were  ungrateful,  stiff-necked,  and 
rebellions.  In  spite  of  all  God's  favors,  in  spite  of  all  the 
rodigies  he  had  wrought  before  their  eyes,  these  ungrate- 
Hi  people  murmu  '  i  against  God  and  rebelled  against  theii 


236        THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED: 

loving  Lord.  But  God's  punishment  was  swift  and  terri 
ble,  lie  sent  upon  those  ungrateful  people  a  multitude  of 
venomous  serpents.  At  the  sight  of  this  countless  multi 
tude  of  poisonous  reptiles,  at  the  sight  of  their  flaming  eyes, 
their  horrid  jaws,  their  poisonous  fangs,  the  Jewish  people 
grew  pale  with  terror — they  fled  on  every  side,  shrieking  and 
t,  trembling.  They  tried  to  hide  themselves,  they  tried 
™to  escape,  but  in  vain.  Whithersoever  they  turned,  the 
enraged  serpents  followed  them.  Wheresoever  they  hid. 
they  found  serpents.  There  were  serpents  flying  in  the 
air ;  there  were  serpents  crawling  on  the  ground  ;  there 
were  serpents  on  the  right,  serpents  on  the  left.  Whither 
soever  they  turned  they  were  met  by  fierce,  venomous 
serpents.  The  wife  shrieked  for  help  and  called  upon  her 
husband ;  but  the  husband  lay  upon  the  ground,  stiff,  and 
black,  and  swollen  in  death.  The  mother  sought  to  save 
the  child  that  nestled  at  her  breast ;  but,  quick  as  a  flash, 
her  own  bosom  was  pierced  by  the  serpent's  fangs.  The 
little  boy  rushed  towards  his  mother,  stretched  forth  his 
tiny  arms,  and  called  for  help  ;  but  them  other  lay  dead  upon 
the  ground,  strangled  by  the  serpent's  slimy  folds.  The 
brother  and  sister  encouraged  each  other  to  fight  boldly 
against  the  fearful  enemy;  but  they  soon  felt  the  dread 
poison,  like  fire,  coursing  swiftly  through  their  veins  and 
throbbing  in  their  maddened  brain.  The  brave,  stalwart 
man  tried  to  tear  away  the  serpent  that  fastened  its  foul 
fangs  upon  his  heart ;  but  in  vain.  He  felt  the  serpent's 
slimy  folds  twining  around  his  neck.  He  saw  before  him 
the  glare  of  the  serpent's  eyes.  He  breathed  the  hot  breath 
of  the  serpent's  jaws.  He  felt  in  his  burning  brain  the 
serpent's  deadly  fangs.  There  was  no  escape  :  the  serpents 
were  urged  on  by  the  swift  vengeance  of  a  just  God. 

Ah  !  what  fearful  company — what  fearful  company  ! 
And  yet  it  is  but  a  faint  picture  of  the  unhappy  state  of  the 
damned  soul  when  condemned  to  the  unutterable  torments 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY.  237 

of  hell.  When  a  soul  enters  hell,  condemned  by  the  judg 
ment  of  God,  the  devil  executes  the  judgment.  For  us  he 
is  king  of  hell,  so  he  is  also  judge.  He  fixes  in  hell  the  place 
where  the  soul  is  to  be,  the  manner  of  her  torment,  and  the 
instruments  of  that  torment.  St.  Frances  of  Kome  saw 
souls  going  into  hell  after  they  had  been  condemned  by  the 
judgment  of  God.  They  went  thore  with  letters  of  fire 
written  on  their  foreheads.  "  He  shall  make  all,  both  little 
and  great,  have  a  character  on  their  forehead."*  The 
letters  showed  the  names  of  the  sins  for  which  they  had 
been  condemned  to  hell,  such  as  blaspheming,  or  impurity, 
or  stealing,  or  drunkenness,  or  not  hearing  Mass  on  Sun 
days,  or  not  going  to  the  sacraments,  and  so  forth.  As 
soon  as  one  of  these  souls  came  to  the  gates  of  hell,  the 
devils  went  and  seized  hold  of  her.  But  how  do  the  devils 
take  hold  of  these  souls  ?  As  the  lions  in  Babylon  took 
hold  of  those  who  were  thrown  into  their  den.  When  the 
people  were  cast  over  the  wall  into  the  den,  the  lions  opened 
their  jaws  and  roared,  and  caught  the  people  in  their  jaws 
and  crushed  them,  even  before  they  had  fallen  to  the 
ground.  So  is  a  soul  received  when  she  enters  hell.  The 
devils  carry  away  the  soul,  bear  her  through  the  flames,  and 
set  her  down  before  the  great  monster,  Lucifer,  to  be 
judged  by  him  who  has  no  mercy.  Oh  !  that  horrible  face 
of  the  devil !  He  opens  his  mouth ;  he  delivers  the 
tremendous  sentence,  which  all  hear,  and  hell  rings  with 
shouts  of  spiteful  joy  and  mockery  at  the  unfortunate 
soul. 

The  soul  is  then  snatched  away  and  hurried  to  that 
place  which  is  to  be  her  home  for  ever  and  ever.  All 
around  her  are  devils,  some  to  strike,  others  to  mock.  And 
the  stroke  of  the  devil  may  be  learned  from  the  story  of 
Job.  "  Satan  went  forth  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord, 
and  struck  Job  with  a  grievous  ulcer  from  the  sole  of  hig 

*Apoc.  xii 


238       THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED: 

foot  to  the  top  of  his  head.  Then  Job  took  a  tile  and 
scraped  off  the  corrupt  matter,  sitting  on  a  dunghill.  Now 
when  Job's  friends  heard  all  the  evil  that  had  come  upon 
him,  they  came  to  him.  For  they  had  made  an  appoint 
ment  to  come  together  and  visit  and  comfort  him.  And 
crying,  they  wept  and  sprinkled  dust  on  their  heads.  And 
they  sat  down  with  him  on  the  ground  for  seven  days  and 
seven  nights.  And  no  one  spoke  a  word  to  him,  for  the^ 
saw  that  his  grief  was  very  great."  * 

The  devil  gave  Job  but  one  stroke ;  that  one  stroke  waa 
so  terrible  that  it  covered  all  his  body  with  sores  and  ulcers, 
making  him  look  so  frightful  that  his  friends  did  not  know 
him  again.  That  one  stroke  was  so  terrible  that  for  seven 
days  and  seven  nights  his  friends  did  not  speak  a  word,  but 
sat  crying,  and  wondering,  and  thinking  what  a  terrible 
stroke  the  devil  can  give.  But  the  soul  that  has  been  con 
demned  eternally  to  hell,  has,  on  one  side,  a  devil  to  strike 
her.  He  will  strike  her  every  minute  for  ever  and  ever, 
without  stopping.  In  what  condition,  then,  will  her  body 
be  after  the  devil  has  been  striking  it  every  moment  for 
millions  and  millions  of  years  ? 

But  one  comfort  Job  had  :  when  the  devil  had  struck 
him  his  friends  came  to  visit  and  console  him,  and  when 
they  saw  him  they  wept.  But  in  hell  there  will  be  no  one 
to  come  to  visit  and  comfort  and  sympathize  with  the 
soul  ;  neither  father,  nor  mother,  nor  brother,  nor  sister, 
nor  friend  will  ever  come  to  console  those  who  have  once 
entered  there. 

Another  instance  of  the  awful  power  of  the  devil  is  given 
in  the  life  of  Nicola  Aubry,  an  innocent  married  lady  in 
France.  To  read  the  torments  which  the  devil  made  this 
innocent  person  endure,  is  enough  to  make  the  hair  stand 
on  end.  When  the  Bishop  of  Laon  held  the  Blessed  Sacra 
ment  before  the  face  of  the  poor,  possessed  woman  and  con- 
*  Job  li. 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY.  239 

jured  the  devil,  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  Blessed 
Sacrament,  to  depart  from  this  innocent  person,  the  devil 
felt  horribly  tormented,  he  made  the  poor  woman  writhe 
most  fearfully.  Her  limbs  cracked  as  if  every  bone  in  her 
body  were  breaking.  The  fifteen  strong  men  who  held  her 
could  scarcely  keep  her  back.  They  staggered  from  side  to 
side ;  they  were  covered  with  perspiration.  Satan  tried  to 
escape  from  the  presence  of  our  Lord  in  the  Blessed  Sacra 
ment.  The  mouth  of  Nicola  was  wide  open,  her  tongue 
hung  down  below  her  chin,  her  face  was  shockingly  swollen 
and  distorted.  Her  color  changed  from  yellow  to  green, 
and  became  even  gray  and  blue,  so  that  she  no  longer  looked 
like  a  human  being.  It  was  rather  the  face  of  a  hideous, 
incarnate  demon.  All  present  trembled  with  terror,  and 
turned  away  their  eyes  in  horror,  especially  when  they 
heard  the  wild  cry  of  the  demon,  which  sounded  like  the 
loud  roar  of  a  wild  bull.  They  fell  on  their  knees,  and,  with 
tears  in  their  eyes,  began  to  cry  out:  "Jesus,  have  mercy  ! " 

The  Bishop  continued  to  urge  Satan.  At  last  the  evil 
spirit  departed,  and  Nicola,  fell  back  senseless  into  the  arms 
of  her  keepers.  She  still,  however,  remained  shockingly 
distorted.  In  this  state  she  was  shown  to  the  judges,  and 
to  all  the  people  present.  She  was  rolled  up  like  a  ball. 
The  Bishop  now  fell  on  his  knees  in  order  to  give  her  the 
Blessed  Sacrament  as  usual.  But  suddenly  the  demon  i;e- 
turns,  wild  with  rage,  endeavors  to  seize  the  hand  of  the 
Bishop,  and  tries  even  to  grasp  the  Blessed  Sacrament  itself. 
The  Bishop  starts  back:  Nicola  is  carried  into  the  air;  and 
the  Bishop  rises  from  his  knees  trembling  with  terror,  and 
pale  as  death. 

The  good  Bishop  takes  courage  again ;  he  pursues  the  de 
mon,  holding  the  Blessed  Sacrament  in  his  hand.  Satan 
endeavors  to  escape,  and  hurls  the  keepers  to  the  ground. 

The  people  call  upon  God  for  aid,  and  Satan  departs  once 
more  with  a  noise  which  resembles  a  crash  of  thunder. 


240       THE  PRODIGAL'S  (COMPANIONS  PUNISHED  : 

Suddenly  he  returns  again  in  a  fury,  but  the  Bishop  pur 
sued  and  urged  Satan,  holding  the  Blessed  Sacrament  in  his 
hand,  till  at  length  the  demon,  overcome  by  the  power  of 
our  Lord's  sacred  Body,  went  forth  amidst  smoke  and 
lightning  and  thunder.  Thus  was  the  demon  at  length  ex 
pelled  for  ever  on  Friday  afternoon  at  three  o'clock — the 
same  day  and  hour  on  which  our  Lord  triumphed  over  hell 
by  his  ever-blessed  death. 

Nicola  was  now  completely  cured.  She  could  move  her 
loft  arm  with  the  greatest  ease.  She  fell  on  her  knees,  and 
thanked  Clod  and  the  good  Bishop  for  all  he  had  done  for 
her.  The  people  wept  for  joy,  and  sang  hymns  of  praise 
and  thanksgiving  in  honor  of  God  and  of  our  dear  Lord  in 
the  Blessed  Sacrament.  On  all  sides  were  heard  the  ex 
clamations  :  "Oh!  what  a  great  miracle.  Oh!  thank  God 
that  I  witnessed  it."  Who  is  there  now  that  could  doubt 
of  the  Real  Presence  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  the  Sacra 
ment  of  the  Altar  ?  Many  Protestants  present  also  said  : 
"  I  believe  now  in  the  Presence  of  our  Lord  in  the  Blessed 
Sacrament.  I  have  seen  it  with  my  eyes.  I  will  remain  a 
Calvinist  no  longer.  Accursed  be  those  who  have  hitherto 
kept  me  in  error  !  Oh  !  now  I  can  understand  what  a 
good  thing  is  the  holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass."  A  solemn 
Te  Deum  was  intoned,  the  organ  pealed  forth,  the  bells 
rang  a  merry  chime,  and  the  whole  city  was  filled  with 

joy- 
Here  we  have  an  innocent  person  tormented  by  the  devil 

in  a  most  frightful  manner ;  yet  it  is  certain  that  the  devil 
could  only  torment  her  to  the  extent  of  the  permission 
which  he  had  received  from  God ;  but  hell  is  his  domain, 
and  there  he  has  full  permission  from  God  to  torment  and 
strike  the  damned  soul  as  much  as  he  pleases.  This  per 
mission  is  given  him  not  for  a  few  hours,  or  months,  or 
years,  but  for  all  eternity.  No  human  or  heavenly  power 
can  go  to  rescue  the  damned  soul  from  tho  ferocious  bar- 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY.  241 

barity  and  cruelty  of  the  devil.     Her  place,  like  her  tor 
ment,  is  eternal. 

Besides  the  striking  devil,  the  soul  has  also  another  devi 
to  mock  at  and  reproach  her.  "Remember,"  says  the 
mocking  devil  to  the  soul,  "  where  you  are,  and  where  you 
will  be  for  ever  ;  how  short;  the  sin  was,  how  long  the  pun- 
ishment.  It  is  your  own  fault.  When  you  committed  that 
mortal  sin,  you  knew  how  you  would  be  punished.  What 
a  good  bargain  you  made  to  take  the  pains  of  eternity  in 
exchange  for  the  sin  of  a  day,  an  hour,  a  moment.  You 
cry  now  for  your  sin,  but  your  crying  comes  too  late.  You 
liked  bad  company  ;  you  will  find  bad  company  enough  here. 
Behold  all  the  evil  spirits,  declared  enemies  of  God  and  man, 
who  in  hell  have  power  from  God  to  tear  and  torment  the 
damned  as  much  as  they  like.  They  are  your  companions 
forever  and  ever." 

One  day  a  demon,  by  the  mouth  of  a  possessed  person, 
spoke  these  terrible  words:  "  When  a  soul,  after  leaving  the 
body,  is  given  up  to  us,  we  know  all  the  circumstances  of 
the  case,  and  this  is  necessary,  for  we  are  the  executors  of 
his  sentence  ;  we  know  all  the  causes  of  his  condemnation, 
that  we  may  be  able  to  impress  upon  him  more  forcibly  the 
causes  of  his  eternal  woe.  We  represent  to  him  the  graces 
received,  the  occasions  of  salvation  offered  him,  the  laws  of 
God  which  he  could  but  would  not  observe,  and  at  the 
same  time  we  overwhelm  him  with,  torments.  WThen  some 
souls,  after  having  tasted  the  sweetness  of  divine  love, 
become  lukewarm,  and  at  last  fall  into  hell,  there  is  a  spe 
cial  demon  perpetually  beside  them  to  remind  them  of  the 
favors  they  once  received  but  abused." 

Did  you  ever  see  two  deadly  vipers  fly  at  each  other  ? 
Their  eyes  burn  with  rage ;  they  shoot  out  their  poisoned 
stings ;  they  struggle  to  give  each  other  the  death-blow. 
They  struggle  till  they  have  torn  the  flesL  and  blood  from 
each  other.  The  like  of  this  happens  in  hell.  There  you 


242       THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED: 

may  see  bad  children,  in  dreadful  anger,  beating  their  pa 
rents  ;  they  fly  at  them ;  they  try  t®  take  life  away  from 
those  who  gave  them  life.  "  Cursed  parents  !"  they  shout, 
"  if  you  had  not  given  us  bad  example,  we  should  not  now 
fee  in  hell."  "  Accursed  father  ! "  cries  a  boy,  **  it  was  you 
who  showed  me  the  way  to  the  public-house."  "Accursed 
mother  !  "  cries  a  daughter,  "  it  was  you  who  taught  me  to 
love  the  world.  You  never  warned  me  when  I  went  into 
that  company  which  was  my  ruin."  "Cursed  husband!" 
cries  that  wife,  "before  I  knew  you  I  was  good  ;  I  obeyed 
the  laws  of  God  ;  it  was  you  who  led  me  away  from  God, 
and  made  me  break  His  laws.  Like  the  devil,  you  ruined 
my  soul,  and,  like  the  devil,  I  will  torment  you  for  ever  and 
ever."  See  in  hell  that  young  man  and  young  woman  :  how 
changed  they  are  !  They  loved  each  other  so  much  on 
earth  that  for  this  they  broke  the  laws  of  God  and  man ; 
but  now  they  fight  each  other  like  two  vipers,  and  so  will 
continue  to  fight  for  all  eternity. 

Not  many  years  ago  a  young  man  came  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  to  a  Kedemptorist  convent  in  Europe.  He  rang 
the  bell  and  knocked  loudly  at  the  door.  One  of  the  fath 
ers  who  happened  to  be  up  went  to  open  the  door.  The 
young  man  fell  at  his  feet,  crying,  in  accents  of  despair, 
"  0  father  !  help  me,  help  me.  I  am  lost!  I  am  damned  ! " 
The  father  thought  that  the  young  man  had  perhaps  been 
drinking  freely  and  was  now  suffering  from  the  delirium 
tremens.  He  therefore  advised  him  to  go  home  ;  but  the 
young  man  besought  him  in  still  more  piteous  accents  to  help 
him.  "This  very  night,"  said  he,  "whilst  sleeping  alone 
in  my  room,  I  was  suddenly  aroused ;  I  saw  before  me  the 
figure  of  one  with  whom  I  had  sinned.  She  had  the  face 
of  a  demon,  and  she  was  enveloped  in  flames.  She  cried 
in  a  voice  that  penetrated  to  the  very  marrow  of  my  bones, 
'Accursed  wretch  !  it  is  you  who,  have  damned  me;  I  shall 
never  let,  you  rest  tili  you  also  burn  in  hell.'  She  then 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY.  248 

sprang  upon  me  and  gored  my  breast  with  her  fiery  horns." 
At  these  words  the  young  man  bared  his  breast.  It  was  all 
mangled  and  bleeding,  so  that  the  priest  shuddered  at  the 
sight  They  both  went  straightway  to  the  house  of  the 
young  woman.  They  aroused  the  inmates  of  it,  and  entered 
the  room  of  the  unfortunate  creature,  and  found  her  dead. 

A  wicked  wretch  once  said  :  "  If  I  am  damned,  I  shall  not 
be  alone  ;  I  shall  have  many  companions  with  me."    Fool ! 
do  you  not  know  that  every  companion  will  be  a  new  tor 
ment  and  tormentor  ?    What  a  torture  for  you  were  you 
to  remain  chained  together  for  life  with  your  most  bitter 
enemy!    What,  then,  will  it  be  for  you  to  remain  in  com 
pany  with  innumerable   enemies  of  God  and  man  for  all 
eternity?    You  have  no  courage  to  live  in  a  cloister  of  strict 
observance,  where  you  would  have  many  companions  good 
and  holy.     How  will  you  remain  in  hell  with  numberless 
damned  souls,  that  are  the  shame  of  nature,  the  opprobrium 
of  the  universe,  monsters  of  ugliness?    What  an  affliction 
and  torment  never  to  have  any  one  to  look  kindly  on  us,  to 
speak  a  gentle  word  to  us  !     What  unspeakable  desolation 
to  be  in  a  company  whence  all  honor,  all  respect,  all  civility, 
all  virtue  are  banished ;  where  there  reigns  but  fury,  ha 
tred,  and  irreconcilable  enmity  ;  where  compassion  has  no 
place  ;   where  whoever  complains  of  his  misfortunes  shall 
be  answered  with  bitter  railleries;    where  during  all  eter 
nity  there  shall  not  be  found  a  single  creature  to  console  the 
damned  soul ;  but  where,  on  the  contrary,  all  will  rejoice  at 
her  pains  and  everlasting  perdition  ;  where  all  the  bonds  of 
friendship  are  broken  ;  where  all  beautiful  relationship  is 
lost ;  where  they  shall  mortally  hate  one  another,  and  so  in 
tensely  that  a  word  of  friendship  shall  never  proceed  from 
them ;  where  the  father  shall  hate  his  son  and  the  son  his 
father,  and  the  friend  his  friend  !    And  they  shall  hate  one 
another  with  so  much  the  more  intensity  as  they  have  been 
instrumental  in  one  another's  ruin.     Such  is  hell. 


244      THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED: 

A  severe  fright  is  one  of  the  most  painful  things  in  the 
world.     A  single  indignant  look  that  Philip  II.,  King  of 
Spain,  cast  upon  two  of  his  courtiers  who  behaved  irreve 
rently  in  church,  was  enough  to  drive  one  of  them  out  of  his 
senses,  and  to  cause  the  deatli  of  the  other.     Some  years  ago, 
a  woman  travelling  through  England  came  to  an  inn,  where 
she   stayed   over   night.      During  the  evening   the  guests 
amused  themselves  by  telling  ghost-stories,  and  the  lady 
went  to  her  room,  her  mind  filled  with  what  she  had  heard. 
About  midnight  she  was  aroused  by  a  strange  noise.     She 
sat  up  in  bed  and  listened,  but  could  hear  nothing.     She 
lay  down  again  to  sleep,  and  was  again  aroused.     Straining 
her  ears,  she  heard  distinctly  sounds   of   the   clanking  of 
chains,  footsteps  coming  up-stairs  and  moaning.     The  foot 
steps  came  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  door.     All  on  a  sudden 
the  door  opened,  and  she  saw  in  the  pale  moonlight  a  tall, 
spectral  figure  with  long,  matted  hair,  a  grisly  beard,  and 
with  clanking  chains  on  his  hands  and  feet.     She  tried  to 
attribute  it  to  her  imagination ;  but  no,  it  was  a  terrible  re 
ality.     She  endeavored  to  shriek,  but  the  blood  froze  in  her 
veins,  the  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth.    The  ghastly 
apparition  drew  near  her  bed.     She  could  not  move  ;  she 
was  as  it  were  spell-bound.     The  strange  visitor  sighed  and 
moaned  ;  then  cast  himself  at  the  foot  of  the  large  bed  in 
which  she  was  lying.    Who  can  describe  her  agony,  the  long 
hours  till  morning  ?     She  dared  not,  she  could  not  move. 
When  morning  had  come,  the  servant  came  to  call  her,  and 
found  her  pale  as  death;  even  her  hair  had  turned  gray 
through  terror  in  that  single  night.     The  strange  visitor 
was  a  poor  maniac,  who  had  been  kept  in  a  distant  room, 
and  had  broken  his  chain  and  wandered  to  the  lady's  room! 
The  damned  soul  will  be  lying  helpless  in  the  lonesome 
iarkness  of  hell.     The  devils  come  in  the  most  frightful 
Bhr.pes  on  purpose  to  frighten  her.     A  holy  religious  saw  at 
kis  death  two  such  monstrous  and  ugly  devils.     He  cried 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY.  245 

out,  saying  that  rather  than  see  them  again  lie  wouid  walk 
till  the  day  of  judgment  on  fire  of  sulphur  and  molten  metal. 
St.  Bridget  *  tells  us  that  she  saw  a  woman  who  had  been 
condemned  to  hell  coming  out  of  a  lake  of  fire,  without  any 
heart  in  her  chest,  without  lips  on  her  countenance,  wit4i 
eyes  dissolved  on  her  cheeks,  with  serpents  on  her  bosom, 
who  cried  out  to  her  daughter,  who  was  still  alive:  "My 
daughter,  no  longer  a  child  but  a  venomous  serpent  ! 
Wretch  that  I  am  for  having  brought  you  forth,  but  much 
more  so  for  having  taught  you  to  commit  sin  !  As  often 
as  you  return  to  the  commission  of  sin,  from  the  bad  ex 
ample  I  gave  you,  my  pains  are  fearfully  renewed." 

The  hearing  is  continually  tormented.  You  have  heard, 
perhaps,  a  horrible  scream  in  the  dead  of  night.  You  may 
have  heard  the  last  shriek  of  a  drowning  man  before  he  went 
down  into  his  watery  grave.  You  may  have  been  shocked 
in  passing  a  mad-house  to  hear  the  wild  shout  of  a  mad 
man.  But  what  are  these  to  be  compared  to  the  horrible 
uproar  of  millions  and  millions  of  tormented  creatures  mad 
with  the  fury  of  hell  ?  There  the  damned  are  heard  roaring 
like  lions,  hissing  like  serpents,  howling  like  dogs.  There 
are  heard  the  gnashing  of  teeth  and  the  fearful  blasphemies 
of  the  devils,  and,  above  all,  the  roaring  of  the  thunders  of 
(rod's  anger,  which  shakes  hell  to  its  foundations. 

There  is  in  hell  a  sound  like  the  noise  of  many  waters. 
It  is  as  if  all  the  rivers  and  oceans  of  the  world  were  pouring 
themselves  with  a  great  splash  down  on  the  floor  of  the  dismal 
abode.  Is  it  really  the  sound  of  waters  ?  It  is.  Are  the  rivers 
and  oceans  of  the  earth  pouring  themselves  into  hell  ?  No ; 
it  is  the  sound  of  oceans  of  tears  running  down  from  the  eyes 
of  the  damned.  And  those  tears  run  eternally.  They  cry 
because  the  sulphurous  smoke  torments  their  eyes  ;  they  cry 
because  they  are  in  darkness ;  they  cry  because  they  have 
lost  the  beautiful  heaven,  and  are  shut  out  from  the  face  o* 
*  B.  vi.,  Revel,  lii 


246        THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED  ; 

God  ;  they  cry  because  there  is  no  hope  of  redemption  fo\ 
them.  It  is  thus  that  the  hearing  of  the  damned  is  tortured, 
because  they  listened  with  sinful  pleasure  to  so  many  slan 
derous  discourses,  to  so  many  immodest  conversations,  te 
so  many  words  of  double  meaning. 

The  scent,  too,  has  its  peculiar  torment.  There  are  some 
diseases  so  bad,  such  as  cancers  and  ulcers,  that  people  car 
not  bear  to  breathe  the  air  in  the  house  where  they  are. 
There  is  something  worse.  It  is  the  smell  of  death,  coming 
from  a  dead  body  lying  in  the  grave.  It  is  related  in  the 
life  of  St.  Walburga  that  a  murderer,  having  killed  a  pilgrim, 
took  him  in  his  arms  to  bury  him  in  a  hidden  place.  The 
murdered  body  clasped  him  so  strongly  that  the  wretched 
assassin  could  not  by  any  means  detach  himself  from  it, 
even  with  the  sword,  so  that  the  mangled  body,  by  itf 
stench,  caused  the  death  of  the  murderer. 

But  what  is  the  smell  of  death  in  hell  ?  St.  Bonaventure 
says  that  if  one  single  body  was  taken  out  of  hell  and  laid 
on  the  earth,  in  that  same  moment  every  living  creature 
on  the  earth  would  sicken  and  die.  Such  is  the  smell 
of  death  from  one  body  in  hell ;  what  then  will  be  the  smell 
of  death  from  countless  millions  of  bodies  laid  in  hell  like 
sheep  ?  This  torment  is  inflicted  upon  the  damned  because, 
while  on  earth,  they  liked  to  stay  in  the  pestiferous  air  of 
oad  companions,  of  public-houses,  of  the  houses  of  ill-fame, 
of  those  low  haunts  of  sin  and  shame  which  lead  to  hell. 

The  taste,  in  punishment  of  gluttony  and  intemperance, 
is  tormented  by  ravenous  hunger.  The  prophet  Isaias  says 
(chap.  ix.  20)  that  in  hell  hunger  will  be  so  horrible  that 
every  one  shall  eat  the  flesh  of  his  own  arm.  Tormented  by 
insupportable  thirst,  Dives,  from  hell,  asked  nothing  of 
Abraham  but  a  drop  of  water,  while  he  was  tormented  with 
gall,  wormwood,  and  disgusting  liquids.  The  Roman  ty 
rants  forced  several  martyrs  to  drink  boiling  resin  and 
molten  metals.  But  torture  such  as  this  gives  no  idea  of  the 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY.  247 

torments  prepared  by  the  devil  and  his  angels  for  those  who 
fall  into  his  hands. 

The  feeling  of  the  damned  is  tormented  in  various  ways. 
"  He  will  give  fire  and  worms  into  their  flesh,  that  they  may 
burn  and  feel  for  ever."  *  St.  Basil  assures  us  that  in  hell 
there  will  be  worms  without  number,  eating  the  flesh, 
and  their  bites  will  be  unbearable.  St.  Teresa  tells  us  that 
the  Lord  one  day  showed  to  her  the  frightful  place  of  hell. 
She  says  that  she  found  the  entrance  filled  with  venomous 
insects.  The  bite  or  the  pricking  of  one  insect  on  the 
earth  sometimes  keeps  a  person  awake  and  torments  him 
for  hours.  What  will  be  his  suffering  in  hell,  when  millions 
of  them  make  their  dwelling-place  in  the  mouth,  the  ears, 
the  eyes,  and  creep  all  over  the  body,  and  sting  it  with  their 
deadly  stings  through  all  eternity.  There  will  be  no 
escape  from  them  where  it  is  not  allowed  to  stir  hand  or 
foot. 

Above  all,  the  feelings  of  the  damned  will  be  tormented 
by  fire— by  a  fire  so  scorching,  so  hot  and  intense,  that  a 
mountain  of  bronze  thrown  into  it  would  melt  in  an 
instant — a  fire  which  burns  everything,  but  burns  nothing 
away,  which  causes  all  kinds  of  torments,  and  the  pains  of 
diseases— a  fire  made  by  God  for  the  purpose  of  being  a  fit 
instrument  of  His  vengeance— a  fire  enkindled  in  the 
wrath  of  the  Almighty  f  to  burn  the  souls  as  well  as  the 
bodies — a  fire  that  has  no  need  of  fuel  to  sustain  it,  be 
ing  kept  alive  by  the  power  of  God— a  fire  that  devours  the 
reprobate  in  such  a  manner  as  to  preserve  them  in  order  to 
devour  them  constantly  for  ever  and  ever— a  fire  that  pre 
serves  in  the  damned  as  much  sensitiveness  to  sufferings 
as  it  has  activity  to  cause  them  to  suffer— a  fire  which  is,  as 
it  were,  intelligent,  making  a  distinction  between  sinners, 
between  the  senses  and  the  mental  faculties  which  have 
served  as  instruments  to  offend  the  Almighty,  and  pro- 

*  Judith  xvi  f  Deut.  xxxii.  83. 


248        THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED: 

portioning  the  pain  to  the  degree  of  perversity  which  it 
punishes — a  fire  so  penetrative  as  to  identify  itself,  as  it 
were,  with  its  victims — a  fire  of  which  our  fire  on  earth  is 
only  a  picture  of  fire — a  fire  which  is  sad  and  sombre, 
serving  only  to  make  visible  such  objects  as  can  torment  the 
sight.  So  there  is  in  hell  only  one  night — one  everlasting 
night  of  darkness.  No  stray  sunbeam,  no  wandering  ray 
of  starlight,  ever  strays  into  that  deep  darkness.  All  is 
thick,  black,  heavy,  aching  darkness,  which  is  made  worse 
by  the  smoke  of  hell. 

Stop  up  the  chimney  when  the  fire  is  burning,  and  in  half 
an  hour  the  room  will  be  full  of  smoke.  The  great  fires  of 
hell  have  been  smoking  now  for  nearly  six  thousand  years  ; 
they  will  go  on  smoking  for  ever.  There  is  no  chimney  to 
take  this  smoke  off  ;  there  is  no  wind  to  blow  it  away. 
Great,  black,  sulphurous  clouds  rise  up  every  moment  from 
the  dark  fires,  till  the  roof  of  hell  stops  them,  and  drives 
them  back  again.  Slowly  they  go  down  into  the  abyss, 
where  they  are  joined  by  other  clouds. 

Such  is  the  fire  that  surrounds  the  damned,  as  a  coffin 
surrounds  a  dead  man.  A  house  on  fire  is  not  an  uncom 
mon  sight,  but  a  house  made  of  fire  has  never  been  seen. 
Hell  is  a  house  made  of  fire.  The  roof  and  the  walls  are  red- 
hot  ;  the  floor  is  like  a  sheet  of  red-hot  iron.  Torrents  of 
fire  and  brimstone  are  constantly  raining  down.  Floods  of 
fire  roll  themselves  through  hell  like  the  waves  of  the  sea. 
The  wicked  are  sunk  down  and  buried  in  that  fiery  sea  of 
destruction  and  perdition.  Every  one  of  them  is  lying 
fastened  as  it  were  in  a  coffin,  not  made  of  wood,  but 
of  solid  fire.  There  the  reprobate  lies,  and  will  lie  for  ever. 
It  burns  him  from  beneath  ;  the  sides  of  it  scorch  him  ;  the 
heavy  burning  lid  on  the  top  presses  down  close  upon  him  ; 
the  horrible  heat  within  chokes  him.  He  pants  for  breath; 
he  cannot  breathe  ;  he  cannot  bear  it.  He  gets  furious. 
He  gathers  up  his  knees  and  pushes  out  his  hands  against 


SELL  OF  THE  BODY.  249 

the  top  of  the  coffin  to  burst  it  open.  His  hands  and  knees 
are  fearfully  burned  by  the  red-hot  lid.  He  tries  with  all 
his  strength  to  burst  open  the  coffin,  but  he  cannot 
succeed.  He  has  no  strength  remaining.  He  gives  it  up 
and  sinks  down  again,  to  feel  once  more  the  horrible 
choking.  Again  he  tries,  again  sinks  down,  and  so  the 
struggle  goes  on  for  ever. 

But  not  only  are  the  damned  surrounded  by  fire  and 
enclosed  in  it  as  within  a  coffin ;  they  are  also  thoroughly 
penetrated  with  the  fire  of  hell.  All  the  body  is  salted  with 
fire.  The  fire  burns  through  every  bone  and  every  muscle. 
Every  nerve  is  trembling  and  quivering  with  the  sharp 
flame.  So  this  fire  will  burn  the  soul  as  well  as  the  body. 
Take  a  spark  out  of  the  kitchen  fire,  throw  it  into  the 
sea,  and  it  will  go  out.  Take  a  little  spark  out  of  hell, 
less  than  a  pin's  head,  throw  it  into  the  ocean  ;  it  will  not  go 
out.  In  one  moment  it  would  dry  up  all  the  waters  of  the 
ocean,  and  set  the  whole  world  in  a  blaze.  "It  is  an 
unquenchable  fire."  * 

A  priest  who  spent  some  years  in  Italy  told  the  following 
story.  When  at  Naples,  he  was  shown  a  table.  In  that 
table  was  seen  the  impress  of  the  hand  of  a  damned  soul  that 
appeared  to  a  young  man  who  had  been  the  cause  of  her 
eternal  ruin.  She  appeared  to  him  all  on  fire,  and  said : 
te  You  are  the  cause  of  my  damnation."  In  saying  this,  she 
touched  the  table  but  slightly  with  her  hand,  and  as  her 
hand,  like  the  rest  of  her  body,  was  all  fire,  it  burnt  the 
table,  and  left  in  it  its  impress  for  ever. 

Not  long  ago  a  young  man  came  in  all  haste  to  a  priest, 
begging  him  to  hear  his  confession  without  delay.  "  Why 
are  you  in  so  great  a  hurry  to  make  your  confession?"  said 
the  priest.  ( '  Alas  !  your  reverence ;  I  have  been  unfortu 
nate  enough  to  commit  a  great  crime  with  a  young  lady. 
She  died  immediately  after  the  sinful  action,  and  appeared 
*  Matt.  ii. 


250        THE  PRODIQA L'S  OOMPA NIONS  P UNISHED  : 

to  me  in  a  most  frightful  state.  She  was  all  on  fire — all  on 
fire  from  head  to  foot.  She  threatened  to  take  away  my 
life,  and  draw  me  into  hell,  and  torment  me  there  for  having 
been  the  cause  of  her  eternal  damnation.  0  father  !  hear 
my  confession — please  hear  it  at  once,  that  I  may  not  go  to 
hell!" 

See,  then,  careless  Catholic,  trembling  slave  of  humai 
respect  1  you  who  have  stayed  away  for  years  from  confes 
sion  because,  forsooth,  you  had  no  time  ;  because,  of  course, 
it  was  not  fashionable  to  go  to  confession — none  but  tho 
poor,  low  Catholics,  the  low  Dutch  and  Irish,  as  you  call 
them,  go  to  confession — see  here  is  the  end  of  your  in 
difference,  here  is  the  end  of  your  false  pride,  of  your  fash 
ionable  neglect,  here  is  the  end  of  all — fire,  living,  tortur 
ing,  devouring  fire  ! 

See,  unhappy  man,  poor  slave  of  human  respect !  you 
who  have  preferred  that  secret  society,  that  oath-bound 
club  of  Freemasons  or  Odd-Fellows,  to  the  holy  Church  of 
the  living  God,  here  is  the  end  of  all  your  godless  secrecy, 
of  all  yaur  oath-bound  fellowship — it  is  fire.  You  bind 
your  free  will — that  noble  gift  of  God — you  enslave  it  by 
so  many  secret,  sinful  oaths;  in  hell  you  shall  be  bound  to 
that  fiery  dungeon  by  chains  that  shall  never  be  broken. 

Unhappy  man  !  you  who  have  so  often  dishonored  God 
by  cursing  and  blaspheming,  by  immodest  and  slanderous 
conversations,  see  here  the  end  of  all  your  blasphemies,  of 
all  your  calumnies,  of  all  your  words  of  double  meaning — it 
is  fire. 

And  you,  careless  parents,  who  neglect  your  children's 
education,  who  neglect  to  send  them  to  Catholic  schools,  to 
Catechism,  to  Mass  on  Sundays  and  holydays  of  obliga 
tion,  who  scandalize  your  little  ones  by  neglecting  your 
religious  duties,  by  drunkenness,  by  shameful  conduct,  see, 
here,  unnatural  parents,  here  is  the  end  of  your  neglect — 
see,  here  is  the  end  of  your  scandals. 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY.  251 

The  revengeful  man  or  revengeful  woman  may  here  see 
the  end  of  hatred.  You  will  not  forgive,  you  will  not  speak 
to  your  neighbor,  you  will  not  salute  those  who  have  offend 
ed  you.  Behold  the  end  !  And  you,  unhappy  drunkard, 
see  the  end  of  all  your  broken  promises,  of  all  your  drunk 
enness  ;  it  is  the  avenging  fire  of  hell.  Behold  the  end  and 
final  home  of  all  unrepentant  and  unpardoned  sin  in  the 
eternal  fire  of  hell. 

Are  these  things  fables,  or  are  they  Gospel  truths?  They 
cannot  be  denied;  Jesus  Christ  has  taught  them;  faith 
teaches  them  ;  the  Scriptures  and  theologians  attest  them. 
What  folly,  then,  to  purchase  by  a  momentary  pleasure 
everlasting  torments! 

If  a  person  said  to  you,  "  If  you  cast  yourself  into  a  burn- 
ing  furnace,  I  will  give  you  a  kingdom,"  would  you  be  fool 
ish  enough  to  do  so?  The  devil  says  to  you,  "If  you  cast 
yourself  into  hell,  I  will  give  you  a  little  pleasure  in  yield- 
ing  to  your  passion,"  and  will  you  be  senseless  enough  to 
yield  ?  You  cannot  bear  to  hold  your  finger  in  the  flame  of 
a  lighted  candle,  and  yet  you  show  so  little  fear  of  the  eter 
nal  flames  of  hell !  Is  not  this  the  greatest  blindness  and 
folly  ?  Well  did  three  noble  youths  answer  their  wicked 
companions,  who  tempted  them  to  abandon  their  life  of 
piety  and  devotion  by  saying  :  "  Your  life  is  too  severe ; 
you  are  too  delicate;  this  kind  of  life  is  not  fit  for  you." 
The  youths  thus  repulsed  their  wicked  suggestions.  One 
"  If  I  cannot  now  bear  the  crosses  of  a  Christian  life, 
how  shall  I  be  able  to  suffer  hereafter  the  pains  of  hell  ?" 
The  other  answered:  "Because  lam  delicate,  and  cannot 
bear  much,  I  prefer,  for  the  sake  of  heaven,  to  undergo  a 
little  severity  during  my  short  stay  on  earth,  rather  than 
suffer  eternal  punishments."  The  third  replied:  "I  can 
suffer  here  below,  because  God  will  assist  me  with  His  grace  ; 
but  in  hell  I  would  be  entirely  abandoned  by  God  for  ever  *' 
What  beautiful  sentiments  !  what  wise  answers !  Even 


252        THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED  : 

Christian  should  often  repeat  them  to  himself.  He  should 
remember  that  all  the  crosses  and  trials  in  this  world  last 
but  for  a  short  time ;  that  they  disappear  altogether,  as  it 
were,  if  compared  with  the  everlasting  torments  of  hell. 
He  should  never  forget  that  the  sinful  pleasures  and  joys  of 
this  world  are  in  hell  turned  into  most  excruciating  pains. 
This  wholesome  remembrance  will  induce  him  to  avoid 
mortal  sin,  and  lead  a  holy  life. 

In  the  lives  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Desert,  we  read  that  a 
holy  hermit  named  Martinian  had  already  passed  twenty- 
five  years  in  a  most  austere  Tetreat.  His  virtue  was  much 
extolled.  A  wicked  woman  named  Zoe  said  one  day  before 
some  persons:  "  Bah  !  I  have  no  faith  in  his  virtue,  and  1 
will  engage  to  make  him  do  whatsoever  I  desire."  She 
dressed  herself  in  her  finest  apparel,  over  which  she  put  on 
some  tattered  rags,  and,  taking  some  provisions  with  her,  set 
out  for  the  desert  where  dwelt  the  holy  hermit.  It  was  late 
at  night  when  she  reached  his  cell.  She  told  him  she  had 
lost  her  way,  and  must  crave  his  hospitality  for  the  night. 
Martinian  was  touched,  gave  up  his  cell  to  her,  and  passed  the 
night  outside.  Next  morning  the  wretch  stripped  off  her  rags, 
reappeared  before  the  hermit,  and  shamefully  urged  him  to 
offend  God,  telling  him  that  no  one  would  know  anything  of 
it.  Martinian  hesitated  a  moment  how  to  answer,  but  all  at 
once  he  told  Zoe  to  wait  a  few  moments.  Retiring  to  a  corner 
of  his  cell,  he  heaped  up  wood  and  kindled  a  great  fire.  Then 
taking  off  his  sandals,  he  sat  down  on  the  ground  and  put 
his  feet  in  the  fire.  The  pain  soon  made  him  cry  aloud. 
The  temptress  ran  in,  and  then  started  back  in  terror.  Mar 
tinian  took  occasion  from  this  circumstance  to  exclaim  several 
times :  "  Alas  !  if  I  cannot  bear  this  fire  for  some  minutes, 
how  shall  I  bear  the  fire  of  hell  for  all  eternity  ?  "  Zoe  was 
so  touched  by  this  reflection  that  she  changed  her  life  and 
became  a  saint. 

Let  us  also  profit  by  this  reflection.     Let  us  not  add  by  our 


HELL  OF  THE  BODY.  253 

gins  fuel  to  the  fire  of  hell.  Let  us,  by  heartfelt  sorrow,  by 
a  sincere  confession,  and  by  a  true  amendment  of  our  life, 
endeavor  to  escape  the  horrible  flames  of  that  fire.  Let 
us  avail  ourselves  of  the  light  of  those  eternal  flames ;  let 
that  light  be  to  us  a  guide  to  lead  and  keep  us  on  the  narrow 
path  that  leads  to  the  eternal  joys  of  Heaven. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED — HELL  OF  THB 
SOUL. 

"FEATHER  SURIN,  a  learned  theologian  of  the  seventeentl 
A  century,  relates  the  following  curious  event,  whicl 
took  place  in  1634,  at  Loudun,  in  the  diocese  of  Poitiers 
Several  persons  possessed  of  the  devil  were  exorcised,  anc 
the  priest  who  performed  that  difficult  task  sometimes  in, 
terrogated  the  evil  spirit  on  questions  of  great  interest, 
One  day  he  said  to  him  :  "  In  the  name  of  God,  I  command 
thee  to  tell  me  what  pains  are  suffered  in  hell  ! "  "  Alas  ! ' 
ansM-ered  the  evil  spirit,  "  we  suffer  a  fire  which  is  never  ex 
tinguished,  an  eternal  curse,  and  especially  a  rage,  a  despair 
impossible  to  describe,  because  we  can  never  see  Him  who 
made  us  and  whom  we  have  lost  by  our  own  fault."  "  What 
wouldst  thou  do  to  enjoy  the  sight  of  God,  were  such  a  thing 
possible  ?  "  "  Oh  !  if  God  could  permit  it,  I  would  consent 
with  all  my  heart  to  climb  a  pillar  that  would  reach  to 
heaven,  were  it  all  over  bristling  with  sharp  points,  keen 
edges,  piercing  thorns.  I  would  consent  besides  to  suffer 
ten  thousand  years,  only  to  have  the  happiness  of  beholding 
God  for  a  single  moment.  Ah  !  if  men  knew  what  they 
lose  in  losing  the  grace  of  God  ! "  Such  was  the  reply  of 
the  devil,  and  surely  he  ought  to  know  what  is  the  greatest 
torment  in  hell,  he  who  has  been  the  enemy  of  God  and 
living  in  hell  for  so  many  ages. 

It  would  seem  that  the  greatest  torment  of  hell  is  the  in 
telligent  fire  which  devours  the  unhappy  reprobates;  but 
gnch  is  not  the  case.  The  most  excruciating  torment  of  all, 

264 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED.       255 

the  most  intolerable  for  the  human  soul,  is  to  be  deprived 
of  seeing  God,  with  the  thought  of  being  deprived  of  him 
for  ever.  This  is  what  is  called  the  pain  of  loss.  And  to 
understand  in  some  measure  what  this  pain  of  loss  is,  we 
must  remember  that  we  have  been  created  to  be  for  ever 
happy.  This  love,  this  yearning  for  happiness,  which  every 
one  feels  in  his  heart,  will  never  be  destroyed,  not  even  in 
hell.  Impelled  by  this  desire,  and  blinded  by  passion,  men 
seek  happiness  in  riches,  in  sensual  pleasures,  in  drunken 
ness.  They  try  to  find  happiness  in  politics,  in  acquiring 
an  honorable  position  in  society,  in  the  pursuit  of  earthly 
knowledge.  These  vain  images  of  happiness  deceive  many 
until  the  soul  is  severed  from  the  body.  At  the  hour  of 
death,  all  these  false,  fleeting  pleasures  disappear,  and  God, 
the  true  source  of  all  happiness,  stands  unveiled  before  the 
soul  in  all  His  ravishing  beauty.  He  shows  Himself  to  her 
in  His  power,  in  which  He  created  the  whole  world  out  of 
nothing ;  He  lets  her  see  His  wisdom  in  governing  the 
world ;  He  lets  her  see  His  love,  in  which  He  became  man, 
died  for  us,  and  even  gave  Himself  as  food  and  drink  in  the 
Blessed  Sacrament.  He  lets  her  see  His  liberality,  with 
which  Ho  rewards  the  just  in  heaven.  Yes,  God  shows 
Himself  to  the  soul  such  as  He  is ;  He  lets  her  have  as  great 
a  knowledge  of  all  His  infinite  perfections  as  she  is  capable 
of  attaining,  in  order  to  make  her  understand  most  clearly 
the  infinite  eternal  happiness  which  He  has  prepared  for 
those  who  served  Him  faithfully  on  earth.  This  knowledge 
of  the  greatness,  amiability,  and  goodness  of  God  will  remain 
imprinted  upon  the  soul  for  all  eternity.  In  the  light  of 
this  knowledge,  which  is  communicated  to  the  soul  in  a  mo- 
nent,  she  will  also  see  the  justice  of  the  punishments  which 
aod  inflicts  for  ever  in  hell  upon  those  who  did  not  keep  His 
;^ommandments. 

Then  it  is  that  the  soul  rushes  towards  God  with  all  the 
<mpetuosity  of  an  intelligent  immortal  spirit.     If  you  have 


256        THE  PR  ODIGAL'S  COMPANI oxs  P  UNISHED  .- 

ever  stood  upon  the  banks  of  the  Niagara  and  gazed  on  the 
rapids,  you  must  have  noticed  how  the  waters  hurry  on  past 
rocks  and  trees,  roaring  and  foaming  and  bounding,  till  at  last 
they  leap  wildly  into  the  yawning  abyss.  Such  a  sight  is  at 
least  a  faint  picture  of  the  fierce  impetuosity  with  which  the 
soul  rushes  towards  God,  the  source  of  all  happiness,  after 
she  has  left  the  body.  But  who  can  describe  the  wild  agony 
of  the  soul  when  she  finds  herself  repelled  from  God,  tied 
down  by  the  chains  of  hell,  oppressed  by  the  heavy  weight 
of  mortal  sin  ?  The  famished  soul  yearns  to  possess  God, 
the  centre  of  her  happiness,  but  all  her  efforts  are  fruitless  ; 
she  is  cast  off  from  God  ;  she  is  chained  for  ever.  Were 
all  the  riches  of  this  world,  were  all  the  honors,  all  the 
pleasures,  of  this  life  placed  before  the  soul,  she  would  turn 
away  from  them  at  that  moment  ;  she  would  curse  them 
all.  The  lost  soul  yearns  for  God  alone,  for  she  can  be  hap 
py  only  in  God. 

In  our  present  life,  we  do  net  feel  any  great  sorrow  for  not 
seeing  God,  because  we  are  not  yet  in  the  right  state  to  ex 
perience  sucli  pain.  A  king  at  the  age  of  three  or  four 
years  would  feel  no  pain  at  losing  his  kingdom  ;  he  would 
even  play  with  the  usurper  who  wore  his  crown  and  wielded 
his  sceptre ;  but  at  the  age  of  twenty  or  thirty,  when  his 
judgment  is  formed,  he  would  feel  such  a  calamity  very 
keenly.  In  this  life  we  are  but  as  children,  not  capable  of 
being  greatly  afflicted  for  not  seeing  our  Lord. 

But  no  sooner  has  the  reprobate  soul  left  the  body  than 
she  sees  clearly,  and  understands  perfectly,  what  she  has  lost. 
She  sees  the  immense  happiness  she  would  have  had  in 
heaven  with  God  and  His  angels  and  saints.  And  now  she 

sees  that  all  this  happiness  is  lost — lost  by  her  own  fault 

lost  hopelessly  and  for  ever.  How  painful  is  the  cry  of  a 
child  that  has  lost  its  mother  !  How  heartrending  are  the 
wailings  of  those  whose  sister  is  leaving  them  to  go  to  a 
strange  country,  perhaps  never  to  see  them  again  !  Ima- 


HELL  OF  THE  SOUL.  257 

gine,  then,  what  the  wailing  will  be  when  the  soul  hears 
these  words  from  God :  "  Depart  from  me,  accursed  one, 
for  ever. " 

How  just  are  the  judgments  of  God  !  During  life,  God 
iuviced  that  sinner,  God  wished  to  dwell  in  his  heart. 
"My  delight,"  says  He,  "is  to  be  with  the  children  of 
men."  But  that  man  despised  God  ;  he  drove  God  away 
from  him  by  his  sins.  How  often  did  Jesus  stand  at  the  door 
of  the  sinner's  heart  and  crave  admittance.  Jesus  watched 
and  waited  patiently  there,  but  that  man  would  not  hearken 
to  His  voice,  he  hardened  his  heart.  How  often  did  God 
call  and  invite  him  to  give  up  sin  and  return  like  the 
prodigal  son  to  the  bosom  of  his  father.  God  promised  to 
receive  him  with  open  arms  and  to  give  him  the  kiss  of 
peace.  God  wished  to  fold  him  under  His  wings,  as  the 
hen  folds  her  little  ones;  but  he  would  not  come.  And 
now,  all  is  changed.  God's  terrible  threat  is  fulfilled  upon 
that  sinner — "  You  shall  seek  me,  but  you  shall  not  find 
me."  You  renounced  me,  you  left  me,  you  turned  your 
back  upon  me  and  clung  to  creatures,  preferring  them 
to  me,  your  God  and  Maker,  and  placing  all  your  happiness 
in  them.  It  is  just,  then,  that  I,  your  God  and  Redeemer, 
should  also  despise  you  and  banish  you  from  my  presence, 
and  from  the  happy  company  of  all  my  faithful  servants  ;  it 
is  just  that  I  should  curse  you  with  a  father's  curse, 
with  a  mother's,  a  Creator's,  a  Redeemer's  curse.  "  Depart 
from  me,  accursed  one,  into  everlasting  fire. " 

Then  it  is  that,  seeing  God  without  the  hope  of  ever 
enjoying  Him,  the  sinner's  unrequited  love  turns  into  an 
intense  and  devilish  hate.  Then  it  is  that  the  sinner 
curses  God  the  Father,  who  created  him  ;  he  curses  God  the 
Son,  who  redeemed  him  ;  he  curses  God  the  Holy  Ghost, 
who  sanctified  him.  Then  it  is  that  he  curses  all  those 
who  helped  in  causing  him  to  lose  God.  Then  in  his 
impotent  fury  he  curses  himself  for  having  lost  God. 


258       THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED: 

Accursed  be  the  hour  in  which  I  was  conceived  ;  accursed 
be  the  day  on  which  I  was  born.  Cursed  be  my  father  and 
mother,  who  neglected  to  watch  over  me,  who  neglected  to 
send  me  to  a  Catholic  school,  to  church,  to  have  me 
instructed  in  religion.  Cursed  be  those  wicked  companions 
who  led  me  into  sin.  Cursed  be  those  bad  books  that 
caused  me  to  lose  my  faith,  to  lose  my  virtue.  Cursed  be 
those  shameful  secret  sins  which  I  committed  so  often, 
never  confessed,  and  never  truly  detested. 

The  lost  soul  even  curses  the  sweet  Mother  of  God  and 
all  the  Saints  and  Angels,  whose  loving  mercy  she 
despised.  She  curses  the  precious  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ, 
which  was  shed  for  her  on  the  cross.  She  curses  the  Sacra 
ments,  which  she  so  often  neglected  or  abused.  She  curses 
the  holy  Church,  which  taught  her  the  saving  doctrines  of 
Christ.  She  wishes  to  destroy  God,  but  feels  that  she 
is  powerless.  She  curses  God,  but  knows  that  God  is  loved 
and  adored  by  thousands  of  happy  beings,  who  enjoy  that 
Heaven  that  she  has  lost.  Henceforth  the  memory, 
the  intellect,  and  especially  the  will  of  the  reprobate  soul 
will  be  most  frightfully  tormented  for  having  lost  God. 
The  lost  sinner  will  remember  with  how  little  trouble 
he  might  have  avoided  hell.  He  will  repeat  to  himself: 
"  So  little  was  required  for  my  salvation ;  it  was  only  to 
make  a  good  confession.  What  little  labor  would  this  have 
been  !  Because  of  a  little  shame  I  did  not  make  it.  How 
foolish  I  was  !  How  often  did  I  hear  the  truth  in  sermons  ! 
How  often  did  my  conscience  and  my  friends  admonish  me 
to  make  the  confession  !  But  all  in  vain.  How  many 
have  committed  more  and  greater  sins  than  I.  But  they 
were  wise  enough  to  confess  their  sins,  and  do  penance  in 
time  ;  they  are  in  Paradise.  What  a  fool  I  have  been  !  I 
am  lost  for  ever  through  my  own  fault.  But  now  this 
repentance  is  unavailing — these  reflections  come  too  late." 

With  this  torment  of  the  memory  will  be  combined  that 


HELL  OF  THE  'SOUL.  259 

of  the  intellect,  which  will  make  the  most  fatal  reflections. 
"  During  life,"  the  sinner  will  say  to  himself,  "  I  loved  ease 
and  luxury,  fine  garments  and  a  costly  dwelling.  To  gain 
these,  I  scrupled  not  to  defraud  my  neighbor.  I  stole  from 
my  employers,  I  took  false  oaths,  I  joined  secret  societies,  I 
even  sold  my  virtue.  I  stayed  away  from  Mass,  neglected 
the  Sacraments,  denied  my  faith,  and  turned  my  back  upon 
Jesus  Christ.  I  was  willing  to  commit  every  crime,  pro 
vided  I  could  become  rich,  provided  I  could  dress  in  costly 
garments,  and  live  in  a  rich  and  splendid  dwelling.  How 
frightful  is  my  torment  now  that  I  find  myself  torn  from 
that  luxurious  dwelling  for  which  I  sacrificed  my  faith,  my 
soul,  my  hope  of  heaven,  to  find  myself  plunged  into  the 
horrid  darkness  and  the  devouring  flames  of  hell.  During 
life,  I  loved  liberty  and  license.  The  Church  of  God  com 
manded  me  to  hear  Mass  on  Sundays  and  holydays  of  obli 
gation  ;  she  commanded  me  to  abstain  from  meat  on  Fridays 
and  fast-days,  to  go  to  confession  and  communion  at  least 
once  a  year  ;  she  forbade  me  to  marry  before  a  civil  magis 
trate  or  preacher ;  she  forbade  me  to  quit  my  lawful  wife 
and  marry  another.  But  I  refused  to  bo  bound  by  these 
laws  ;  I  wished  to  be  free,  and  do  as  I  pleased.  God  com 
manded  me  to  keep  away  from  the  meetings  of  heretical 
sects  ;  to  keep  away  from  balls,  theatres,  and  other  haunts 
of  sin;  to  avoid  immodest  and  dangerous  company,  to  give 
up  immodest  and  sinful  practices.  But  I  wished  to  be  free, 
to  think  and  act  as  I  pleased.  How  terrible  is  my  agony, 
my  despair  now,  when  I  find  myself  bound  hand  and  foot, 
and  chained  like  a  galley-slave  to  the  dreary  dungeon  of 
hell! 

During  my  lifetime,  I  loved  to  listen  to  backbiting  and 
calumny,  to  immodest  discourses,  to  words  of  double  mean 
ing.  How  great  now  is  my  punishment  in  hell,  where  I 
hear  nothing  but  curses,  blasphemies,  wailing,  and  shrieks 
of  despair  !  When  on  earth  I  loved  the  darkness.  I  chose 


260       THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED. 

the  darkest  night,  I  chose  the  most  secret  nook,  in  order  to 
gratify  my  brutal  lust.  Now  that  I  find  myself  in  hell,  I 
shall  have  darkness,  eternal  darkness.  I  loved  to  gaze  upon 
immodest  objects;  I  loved  to  read  immodest  books.  Not 
only  in  the  ball-room  and  the  theatre,  not  only  in  the  house 
of  ill-fame,  but  even  in  the  church,  in  the  house  of  God,  I 
fed  my  lustful  eyes  by  gazing  immodestly  on  those  around 
me.  Now  that  I  am  in  hell,  my  eyes  shall  look  upon  no 
other  objects,  they  shall  see  most  hideous  demons  and  the 
ghastly  souls  of  the  damned.  While  on  earth,  I  loved  to 
drink  and  drink  until  I  degraded  myself  below  the  level  of 
the  brute.  I  did  not  wish  to  give  up  liquor,  though  my 
friends,  my  wife,  my  children,  the  priest  of  God,  conjured 
me  to  do  so.  Now  that  I  am  in  hell,  I  shall  drink  my  fill 
of  torturing  fire,  of  the  poison  of  serpents,  of  the  gall  of 
dragons.  When  on  earth,  I  was  not  willing  to  give  up  that 
unlawful  company  which  God  and  the  Church  forbade  me 
to  keep.  I  was  not  willing  to  give  up  the  secret  society  I 
had  joined.  I  rather  gave  up  my  religion,  the  holy  Sacra 
ments,  and  my  hope  for  heaven  than  renounce  that  society. 
I  was  not  willing  to  give  up  visiting  the  bar-room,  associat 
ing  with  drunkards  and  gamblers,  though  my  friends,  my 
children,  my  wife,  and  the  priest  of  God  conjured  me  to  do 
so.  I  was  not  willing  to  give  up  that  house  which  was  so 
often  the  occasion  of  sin  for  me.  Now  that  I  find  myself 
in  the  gloomy  vaults  of  hell,  I  have  for  company  the  most 
degraded  beings  that  ever  existed.  I  have  the  company  of  a 
countless  multitude  of  villains,  murderers,  blasphemers  and 
madmen — all  chained  together,  all  tortured  by  unquencha 
ble  fire,  by  the  never-dying  worm,  howling  and  shrieking 
in  mad  despair.  Such  are  and  will  be  my  companions  for 
ever,  for  having  chosen  to  live  and  die  in  mortal  sin.  Here 
I  have  no  longer  a  protector,  a  friend,  a  loving  father,  a 
kind  mother.  No  ;  all  the  ties  of  friendship,  all  the  ties  of 
nature,  the  strong  ties  of  love,  are  for  ever  broken,  for  ever 


HELL  OF  THE  SOUL.  261 

turned  into  devilish  hate.  Every  evil  spirit,  every  damned 
soul,  insults  me,  curses  me,  tortures  me,  in  his  fury,  as 
much  as  lie  pleases.  I  must  submit  to  all  ;  I  must  submit 
to  it,  in  just  punishment  for  having  refused  to  submit  to 
the  will  of  God  on  earth. 

If  you  have  ever  been  on  the  ocean  on  a  calm  moonlight 
night,  you  might  have  noticed  here  and  there  a  small  wave 
arise  and  tremble  for  awhile  in  the  shining  moonlight,  and 
then  sink  back  and  be  lost  in  the  bosom  of  the  boundless 
ocean.  Such  is  time  ;  such  is  all  time,  counting  from  the 
beginning  of  creation  to  the  end  of  the  world.  Like  a  wave 
it  arises,  sparkles  for  an  instant,  and  then  sinks  back  to  be 
lost  for  ever  in  the  silent  ocean  of  boundless  eternity.  For 
eternity  existed  before  time,  and  eternity  will  continue  to 
exist  when  time  shall  be  no  more. 

How  to  describe  the  eternity  of  the  pains  of  the  damned  . 
It  would  require  the  language  of  an  angel.  It  would  require 
the  language  of  those  fallen  angels  who  have  been  suffering 
the  torments  of  hell  from  the  beginning  of  the  world.  Could 
one  of  those  lost  spirits  stand  before  us  at  this  moment,  and 
describe  the  meaning  and  significance  of  "  the  loss  of  a 
soul "  ;  could  he  but  speak  of  the  death  of  the  soul— that 
death  that  never  dies.  Let  him  tell  of  the  anguish  of  that 
remorse  that  comes  too  late,  and  never  goes  away.  Let  him 
describe  the  fierce  fire,  that  never  quenches  ;  the  gnawing 
worm,  that  never  dies.  Let  him  dilate  on  heaven  and  all 
its  beauty— the  heaven  not  possessed  or  enjoyed.  Let  him 
describe  the  eternal  regret  of  a  soul  that  had  been  created 
for  heaven,  that  had  once  even  half-tasted  of  its  happi 
ness,  then  lost  it  all,  and  lost  it  through  her  own  fault.  Let 
him  tell  of  the  loss  of  God— of  God  the  supreme,  the  unut 
terable  beauty,  the  boundless  ocean  of  joy  and  happiness. 
Let  him  speak  of  God's  infinite  love,  of  His  excessive  desire 
to  make  His  creatures  happy,  and  yet  all  lost,  irreparably 
lost  !  Oh  !  could  such  a  spirit  speak  to  us  now,  we  should 


262       THE  PR  ODIGA  L'S  COMPANIONS  P  UNISHED  : 

never  forget  it.  Could  he  stand  before  us,  we  should  need 
no  feeble  human  words.  For  whatever  man  can  say  or  ima 
gine  of  hell  must  fall  infinitely  short  of  the  dread  reality. 
No  eye  has  seen  it  nor  ear  has  heard  it,  nor  has  it  ever  en 
tered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive  what  God  has  in 
store  for  those  who  hate  Him. 

For  ever  to  suffer,  with  never  a  ray  of  hope ;  for  ever  to 
burn,,  and  never  to  be  refreshed  ;  for  ever  to  hunger  and 
thirst,  and  never  to  be  appeased ;  for  ever  to  rave  with  im 
potent  fury,  and  never  to  be  pitied  ;  for  ever  to  despair,  and 
never  to  be  comforted — 0  fearful  eternity  ! 

To  suffer  the  torments  of  fire  is  an  excruciating  pain,  but 
yet  it  may  be  endured.  The  martyrs  have  exulted  in  the 
midst  of  the  flames.  To  suffer  the  pangs  of  shame  and  re 
morse  is  an  awful  pain,  which  few  can  bear.  To  be  deprived 
for  a  time  of  the  enjoyments  of  Heaven,  of  the  possession  of 
God,  is  a  pain  which  far  exceeds  all  corporal  suffering.  But 
were  all  these  pains  and  torments  of  hell  to  be  united  and  in 
creased  a  thousandfold,  and  were  they  to  last  for  millions  and 
millions  of  years,  provided  only  that  they  once  came  to  an 
end,  then  would  hell  cease  to  be  a  hell.  Were  God  to  send 
an  angel  from  Heaven  to  announce  to  the  damned  that,  af 
ter  as  many  millions  of  years  as  there  are  grains  of  sand  on 
the  shores  of  the  sea,  their  torments  would  come  to  an  end, 
how  great  would  be  their  happiness.  Their  blasphemies, 
their  howlings  of  despair,  would  cease ;  they  would  burst 
forth  into  canticles  of  praise  and  gladness ;  hell  would  be 
changed,  as  it  were,  into  Heaven.  But  this  happiness  shall 
never  be  theirs. 

A  sermon  of  an  hour's  duration  now  seems  an  age  in 
length  ;  a  half  an  hour's  prayer  is  too  wearisome  ;  at  times, 
men  have  not  the  patience  to  wait  even  to  the  end  of  the 
Mass  or  Benediction.  The  crying  of  a  child,  the  moan 
ing  of  a  sick  person,  is  insupportable ;  the  fast  of  half  a 
day  frightens  them ;  the  very  name  of  penance  is  an  afflic- 


HELL  OF  THE  SOUL.  263 

tion.  A  headache,  a  toothache  makes  them  so  impatient 
that  they  disturb  all  those  about  them.  But  not  pain  or 
penance  only — even  the  finest  music,  the  most  palatable  food, 
the  most  agreeable  company,  becomes  intolerable  if  it  lasts 
too  long,  or  if  it  is  always  the  same.  Let  those,  then,  who 
cannot  bear  a  harsh  word,  who  cannot  prevail  on  themselves 
to  confess  the  secret  sins  which  weigh  on  their  conscience, 
say  how  they  will  be  able  to  suffer  the  fierce  torments  of 
hell  for  all  eternity  ?  There  they  will  listen,  not  to  a  ser 
mon,  not  to  pleasant  music,  but  to  wailing  and  howling 
and  gnashing  of  teeth,  blasphemies  and  shrieks  of  despair. 
There  not  a  mere  headache  or  toothache  will  afflict  them, 
but  spasms,  anguish,  and  torments  unutterable  ;  not  for  an 
hour,  not  for  a  long  night,  not  for  one  whole  week,  not  for 
vme  entire  year,  but  for  myriads  of  ages,  for  endless  centu 
ries,  for  ever  and  ever,  without  relief,  without  hope,  without 
end,  as  long  as  God  shall  be  God. 

How  many  are  there  now  living  in  hell  who,  could  they 
speak,  would  testify  to  the  truth  of  this.  What  a  story 
could  Cain,  the  first  murderer,  tell  !  "  Ah  !  "  he  cries,  "  I 
have  been  suffering  here  for  thousands  and  thousands  of 
years,  but  my  sufferings  are  not  for  one  moment  lessened. 
Day  after  day,  month  after  month,  year  after  year,  the 
world  grew  older  and  more  wicked,  till  at  last  the  great 
deluge  came,  and  cleansed  the  earth  with  its  avenging  flood. 
The  deluge  came  and  went,  but  not  for  me.  The  whole 
earth  was  covered  with  water,  but  not  a  drop  came  to  me 
to  quench  my  thirst — not  a  drop  fell  upon  my  burning 
tongue. 

"  The  prophets  appeared  upon  the  earth,  and  foretold  the 
rise  and  growth  of  vast  kingdoms  and  empires.  Ages  after 
ages  rolled  by,  and  at  last  their  prophecies  were  fulfilled. 
The  day  dawned  when  these  kingdoms  and  empires  arose. 
They  grew  powerful,  and,  as  ages  passed  away,  declined  or 
were  shattered  by  the  storm  of  revolution.  They  crumbled 


•3  0 4       THE  PR  ODIGA L>S  COMPANIONS  P  UNISBED  : 

away  one  by  one,  and  sank  back  into  f orgetf ulness.  B  ut 
with  all  these  countless,  changeful  years  there  carne  no 
change  for  me.  I  have  been  ever  burning,  as  I  am  still 
burning,  in  these  flames,  and  I  must  burn  here  for  all  eternity, 

"  The  prophets  foretold  that  the  Redeemer  would  one  day 
come  and  save  the  world,  and  after  long  years  and  ages  of 
weary  expectation  the  Redeemer  came  at  last.  He  was 
born ;  He  lived  and  died  to  redeem  the  world ;  He  saved  the 
world,  and  returned  to  Heaven  ;  but  for  me  there  was  and  is 
no  redemption." 

For  how  many  years  has  the  unhappy  Judas  been  burning 
in  those  fierce  flames,  and  how  many  tears  of  bitter  remorse 
has  he  shed!  When  shall  his  torments  end?  When  shall  God 
wipe  away  his  tears  ?  Perhaps  when  he  shall  have  shed  as 
many  tears  as  there  are  grains  of  sand  on  the  sea-shore,  leaves 
in  the  forest,  drops  in  the  ocean,  and  stars  in  the  firmament. 
Perhaps  then  an  end  may  come  to  his  sufferings.  His  tor 
ments  shall  be  then  beginning.  Add  a  million  of  years  to 
eternity,  and  it  shall  not  be  increased  ;  take  away  a  mil 
lion  of  years,  it  shall  not  be  diminished.  Even  then  their 
eternity  is  not  a  moment  lessened,  for  theirs  is  an  end  that 
never  ends,  a  death  that  never  dies. 

What  tongue  shall  describe  the  unhappy  fate  of  the 
damned  soul  ?  The  weight  of  an  endless  eternity  presses 
upon  her  like  a  huge  mountain.  She  looks  up  to  heaven  : 
it  is  for  ever  closed  against  her.  In  her  agony  she  cries 
aloud:  "0  blessed  gate!  0  gate  of  Paradise  !  sh.-ilt  thou 
never  open  for  me  ?  0  Paradise  of  delights  !  shall  I  never 
possess  thee  ?  0  blessed  light  !  shalt  thou  never  shine  for 
me  ?  "  The  thunders  of  God's  parting  malediction  rings  in 
her  ears :  "  Never,  never  ! "  She  looks  at 'the  gates  of  her 
prison  and  cries :  "  0  gate  !  shalt  thou  never  open  for  me  ?  " 
She  hears  a  voice  that  distinctly  says  to  her:  "Never, 
never  !"  for  the  gae  of  hell  is  sealed  with  the  dread  seal  of 
the  Almighty. 


HELL  OF  THE  SOUL.  265 

She  looks  at  the  torments  that  surround  her  and  cries : 
"  0  torments  !  0  fire  !  will  you  never  give  me  a  moment's 
relief  ?  "  "  Never,  never  !  " 

She  looks  into  her  guilty  conscience.  All  the  sins  of  her 
past  life  are  preying  like  ravenous  vultures  upon  her  bleed 
ing  heart,  and  she  shrieks,  in  despair:  "  Oh  !  shall  I  never 
have  one  hour,  one  solitary  hour,  wherein  to  blot  out  these 
damning  sins  with  the  sweet  tears  of  repentance  ?  Oh  !  for 
one  single  hour  to  cast  myself  at  the  feet  of  the  priest  of 
Gocl,  to  hear  from  his  lips  the  sweet  words  :  'Go  in  peace; 
thy  sins  are  forgiven.'  0  happy  years  of  my  childhood  ! 
will  you  never  more  return  ?  0  blessed  hours  of  innocence 
and  peace  !  shall  I  never  see  you  any  more  ? "  Never, 
never  !  The  angel  of  God  has  sworn  by  Him  that  liveth 
for  ever  and  ever  "  that  time  shall  be  no  more." 

How  great  is  the  pain  which  a  sick  man  feels  whilst  lying 
on  a  bed  of  fever.  Throughout  the  long  weary  night  he 
cannot  sleep.  He  feels  every  throb  of  his  burning  brow  ; 
he  hears  every  tick  of  the  clock ;  he  counts  each  moment 
as  it  slowly  drags  along.  How  long  the  night  seems  ; 
every  hour  seems  to  him  an  age.  How  eagerly  does  he  yearn 
and  pray  for  the  morning  light.  What  would  be  his 
misery  were  the  light  of  morning  never  to  dawn,  and  that 
long  dreary  night  of  pain  to  last  for  ever  ! 

What  must  the  agony  of  the  damned  be,  as  they  try  to 
turn  around  in  their  bed  of  fire,  and  peer  through  the  thick 
darkness  of  that  long,  long  night ! 

"  Custos,  quid  de  node?" — "Watchman,  what  of  the 
night  ?  "  *  How  many  hours  of  our  torments  have  already 
passed  ?  When  shall  this  dreary  night  be  ended  ?  When 
shall  the  morning  of  our  redemption  dawn  upon  us  ? 
Never,  never  !  The  pendulum  of  eternity  swings  from  side 
to  side,  and  with  every  stroke  the  fearful  words  are  heard : 
ever,  for  ever!  The  hands  of  that  eternal  time-piece  never 
•  Isa.xxi.ll. 


266       THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHED  : 

move  round,  but  point  always  to  the  same  dread  sentence 
of  damnation :  For  ever — never,  never — for  ever  !  0 
fearful  eternity  !  For  ever  shall  they  burn  in  that  fire. 
For  ever  gnaws  the  worm ;  never  shall  it  die.  For  ever 
shall  they  howl  and  gnash  the  teeth  ;  never  shall  they  be 
comforted.  For  ever  shall  they  be  excluded  from  the  face 
of  God  ;  for  ever  rejected  by  Jesus  ;  for  ever  accursed  by 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Never  shall  they  hear  one  word  of  bless 
ing  ;  never  one  word  of  consolation.  For  ever  lasts  their 
agony ;  for  ever  their  sins ;  for  ever  their  despair.  0 
fearful  eternity  ! 

Fain  would  the  damned  annihilate  themselves,  and 
destroy  for  ever  their  unhappy  existence,  but  in  vain. 
They  can  only  increase,  they  can  never  end,  their  torments. 
In  their  agony  they  cry  aloud:  "  0  God  of  justice,  God  of 
vengeance  !  come,  destroy  me ;  annihilate  this  being  Thou 
hast  given  me."  But  God  is  deaf  to  their  cries.  He 
offered  them  eternal  life,  and  they  refused  it.  Now  they 
shall  seek  death,  and  shall  not  find  it.  He  offered  them 
redemption,  and  they  spurned  His  oiler.  Now  they  shall 
yearn  to  be  redeemed,  and  redemption  shall  never  be  theirs. 

"  0  ye  demons  ! "  they  cry,  "  come  and  kill  us,  come  and 
destroy  us."  The  demons  rush  upon  them  and  torment 
them  anew,  but  destroy  them  they  cannot.  They  led  a  life 
of  ease  and  pleasure  while  on  earth ;  it  is  but  just  that  they 
shall  now  live  a  life  of  endless  torment  in  hell.  They 
refused  to  glorify  God's  mercy  while  on  earth,  now  they 
shall  glorify  God's  infinite  sanctity  and  justice  for  ever. 
The  sun  shall  rise  and  set,  and  the  moon  grow  full  and 
wane  again  ;  the  grass  shall  grow  green  and  wither,  and  the 
birds  sing,  and  their  song  shall  be  hushed  in  death  ;  the 
flowers  shall  bloom  and  fade  ;  men  shall  be  born,  and  shall 
make  merry  and  die  away,  and  nations  shall  rise  and  flourish, 
and  sink  back  into  f orgctf ulness ;  the  whole  earth  shall  be 
shaken  by  whirlwind  and  earthquake  ;  yea,  the  heavens  and 


HELL  OF  THE  SOUL.  337 

the  earth  shall  flee  away  before  the  face  of  God,  and  be 
folded  up  as  a  scroll,  and  the  blessed  shall  enter  the  joys  of 
heaven,  and  their  song  of  gladness  shall  resound  for  ever  and 
ever;  while  the  unhappy  damned  shall  be  burning  in  that 
fire  that  changes  riot  and  is  not  lessened— without  hope, 
without  end,  as  long  as  God  is  God. 

The  celebrated  Joseph  Dominick  Mansi,  one  of  the  most 
learned  men  of  his  age  and  of  all  Italy,  in  his  youth  did  not 
lead  a  very  regular  life.     His  profession  was  that  of  a  notary. 
One  day  he  passed  a  church  where  a   sermon  was  being 
preached.     Impelled  by  curiosity,  he  entered.     The  subject 
of  the   sermon  was    the  eternity  of  the   torments   of   the 
damned.      From  time  to  time  the  preacher  paused,   and 
electrified  his  audience  by  crying  out  :    "  0  eternity  that 
shall  never  end  ! "     The  tone  in  which  he  pronounced  these 
words  produced  an  extraordinary  effect  on  Mansi.      He  left 
the  church  absorbed  in  thought,  and  went  on  his  way.     Only 
now  and  then  he  stopped,  and  repeated  to  himself:    "  0 
eternity   that   shall   never   end  ! "     On   returning    to    his 
house,  just  as  he  was  about  to  sit  down  to  table,  an  inner 
voice  seemed  to  repeat  the  same   words   in  his   ear:    "  0 
eternity  that  shall  never  end  !  "     By  night  as  well  as  by  day, 
at  prayer  and  at  business   alike,   that  important   sentence 
sounded  in  his  ear  and  occupied  his  mind.     Touched,  at 
length,  by  this  heavenly  warning,  he  left  the  world,  became 
a    priest,   and    in   1769   was    consecrated    Archbishop    of 
Lucca. 

May  this  reflection  never  leave  the  heart  of  a  Christian 

for  life  is  very  short,  whilst  eternity  is  endless:  Is  it  good 
traffic,  at  the  price  of  a  few  years  of  a  sinful  life,  and  those 
uncertain,  to  gain  an  eternity  of  torments  ?  When 
Dathan  and  Abiron  were  swallowed  up  alive  by  the  earth 
suddenly  opening  under  their  feet,  those  who  were  present 
at  the  painful  spectacle  instantly  took  to  flight,  *  and  it 
*  Numbers  rvt  81 


268       THE  PRODIGAL'S  COMPANIONS  PUNISHBD. 

their  flight  cried  out :  "  Let  us  quickly  depart  hence,  that 
the  earth  may  not  also  devour  us."  Alas  !  thousands 
of  sinners  have  been  cast  into  the  abyss  of  hell,  where  they 
burn,  and  will  burn  eternally,  in  punishment  of  their  sins. 
Let  us  take  a  wholesome  lesson  from  them.  Let  us  avoid 
their  crimes,  their  evil  habits,  which  may  also  precipitate  us 
iinto  endless  torments.  Let  us  leave  the  company  of  sinners, 
hate  and  detest  our  own  sins,  clear  ourselves  by  a  sincere 
confession,  lest  hell  devour  us  while  we  are  in  the  state  of 
mortal  sin. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL — GOD'S  MERCY. 

A  MAN  who  is  very  sick  is  willing  to  take  the  most  bitter 
t*  medicines,  and  place  himself  at  the  mercy  of  the  most 
cruel  surgeons  if  he  knows  the  grievousness  of  his  sickness, 
and  the  great  danger  he  incurs  of  losing  his  life.  When  the 
Prodigal  Son  saw  himself  consumed  with  miseries  and  de 
baucheries,  and  that  he  could  not  have  even  the  husks  of 
swine  wherewith  to  sustain  his  life,  he  said  :  "  I  here  per 
ish  with  hunger.  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  father.  I  Avill 
ask  his  pardon.  I  trust  in  his  goodness.  He  will  receive 
me  at  least  as  one  of  his  servants.  I  am  ready  to  do  what 
ever  he  tells  me  rather  than  perish  with  hunger."  In  like 
manner,  a  Christian  will  be  ready  to  amend  his  life  and  do 
penance  for  his  sins  if  he  comes  to  understand  his  miser 
able  state,  and  the  great  risK  he  runs  of  being  lost  for  all 
eternity. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  terrible  truths — truths  calculated 
to  open  the  wounds  of  the  heart — have  been  set  before 
the  reader.  Those  truths  ought  to  inspire  one  with  a 
wholesome  fear  of  the  judgments  of  God  ;  they  ought  to 
induce  the  sinner  to  make  his  peace  with  God  by  means  of 
a  good  confession,  and  confirm  in  him  the  resolution  to  lead 
henceforth  a  most  Christian  life,  in  order  to  escape  the 
eternal  torments  of  hell,  and  become  one  day  a  worthy  citi 
zen  of  heaven. 

But  with  many,  even  after  they  have  experienced  the 
desire  of  repentance,  a  certain  fear  and  uneasiness  as  to  the 
past  as  well  as  to  the  future  may  prevail.  Many  who  have 

289 


*70  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  : 

indeed  grievously  sinned,  and  who  would  wish  to  return  to 
God,  are  still  kept  back  by  the  fear  that  their  sins  are  too 
great,  that  there  is  no  hope,  no  pardon  for  them.  For  such 
persons  there  is  much  comfort  if  they  would  only  open  their 
minds  and  hearts  to  it — to  the  thought  of  God's  great  good 
ness  and  mercy.  The  patience  of  God  in  calling  and  awaiting 
the  return  of  the  sinner  to  his  friendship,  and  his  exceeding 
great  joy  in  receiving  and  welcoming  him  back,  are  unutter 
able.  To  them  may  be  said  what  Moses,  the  great  servant 
and  prophet  of  the  Lord,  said  to  the  Israelites  :  "  The  Lord 
is  a  forgiving  God,  gracious  and  merciful,  long-suffering  and 
full  of  compassion."  *  And  in  the  same  sense  the  great 
apostle,  St.  Paul,  often  repeated  these  words  to  the  Chris 
tians  of  his  time  :  "  The  Lord  is  the  father  of  mercies  and 
the  God  of  all  consolation. "  f  Yes,  indeed,  the  Lord  is  merci 
ful  ;  and  He  is  merciful  especially  to  all  poor  sinners.  He  is 
merciful  in  all  places.  "  The  earth- is  full  of  the  mercies  of 
the  Lord,"  says  holy  David.  The  Psalmist  does  not  say  that 
the  earth  is  full  of  God's  justice,  full  of  his  punishments, 
but  that  it  is  full  of  his  mercies.  "Nay,"  says  he,  "the 
tender  mercies  of  the  Lord  are  above  all  his  works."  J 

There  is  nothing  more  peculiar  to  God's  nature  than  to 
be  merciful  and  to  spare.  To  understand  this  rightly,  ft 
must  be  considered  that  God  is  our  father.  Our  divine 
Saviour  assures  us  of  this.  He  has  taught  us  to  pray,  "Our 
Father  who  art  in  heaven."  Again  and  again  in  Holy  Writ 
He  calls  God  by  the  endearing  name  of  "Our  Father." 
Now,  what  is  meant  by  the  term  "  father  "  ?  Let  us  try  to 
understand  fully  the  meaning  of  this  beautiful  word.  We 
see  a  poor  man  laboring  day  and  night,  watching  and  pray 
ing,  suffering  cold  and  hunger.  Who  is  he  ?  Why  does  he 
endure  all  this  ?  It  is  a  father.  He  has  children  whom  he 
loves,  and  would  wish  to  see  happy.  That  thought  makes 
him  forget  all  his  own  sufferings.  Should  one  of  those 
*Bxod.  xxxiv.  6.  1 2  Cor.  i.  3.  *  Ps.  cxliv.  ix. 


GOD'S  MERCY  27i 

children  go  astray  and  become  wicked,  how  sorely  is  the 
heart  of  that  poor  father  grieved  !  But  still  he  keeps 
on  suffering  and  toiling,  even  for  his  wayward  child.  He 
says  to  himself,  "  Who  knows?  perhaps  my  child  will  have 
more  sense  by  and  by.  Perhaps  he  will  be  sorry  for  his 
faults,  and  lead  a  better  life." 

Now,  such  a  father  is  God — a  good,  kind,  compassionate 
father,  who  is  infinitely  merciful.  King  David  had  many 
children,  one  of  whom,  Absalom,  became  very  wicked — so 
wicked  as  at  last  to  rebel  against  his  father.  He  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  large  army  with  the  intention  of 
dethroning  King  David.  This  monstrous  crime  assuredly 
deserved  deatli ;  but  yet  the  father,  instead  of  condemning 
his  unnatural  son  to  death,  gave  orders  that  he  should  be 
spared.  Absalom,  however,  was  slain  whilst  flying  from  the 
field  of  battle.  As  soon  as  the  glad  tidings  of  victory  were 
brought  to  King  David,  his  first  question  was,  "  Is  my  son 
well  ?  Is  he  safe  ?"  And  when  he  was  told  that  Absalom 
was  dead,  instead  of  rejoicing  over  the  victory  he  burst 
into  tears,  and  would  not  be  consoled.  "0  my  son  Ab 
salom  !  "  he  cried  ;  "  my  son  !  my  son  !  Oh  !  that  I  were 
dead  in  thy  place,  my  son  !  My  dear  son,  Absalom."  David 
wept  over  this  unworthy  son  simply  because  he  was  father 
to  that  son.  Now,  God  is  the  best  and  tenderest  of  fathers, 
and  we  are  all  his  children.  But  God  has  not  only  the 
heart  of  a  father.  He  has  also  the  heart  of  a  mother  towards 
us,  his  frail,  erring  children.  He  himself  assures  us  of  this 
when  he  says :  "  I  shall  take  you  in  my  arms.  I  shall  caress 
you.  I  shall  press  you  to  my  heart,  as  a  mother  caresses  her 
darling  child."  Again  he  says  :  "  Can  a  mother  forget  her 
own  child  ?  "  and  adds  :  "  Even  should  a  mother  forget  her 
own  child,  I  shall  not  forget  you."  Yes,  God  loves  not  only 
like  a  mother,  but  even  more  than  a  mother.  But  His  love 
is  not  sufficiently  known  among  men.  Why,  we  do  not  even 
understand  th«  great  love  which  lies  in  a  mother's  heart, 


THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL: 

much  less  the  boundless  love  that  burns  in  the  heart  of 
God.     How  great  is  the   happiness  of  a  good   Christian 
mother  whose  son  is   virtuous   and  obedient !      How  in 
tense  is  her  love  for  him  !    She  cannot  herself  measure 
the  greatness  of  her  love ;  but  one  thing  she  does  know, 
and  that  is,  if  it  were  possible  for  her,  she  would  love  him 
even  a  thousand  times  more  tenderly  and  ardently  than  sho 
Such  also  is  the  love  even  of  the  poor  mother  whose 
child  is  disobedient  and  wicked,  abuses  her  and  curses  her. 
He  runs  away  from  home;  he  prefers  the  society  of  wicked 
companions  to  her  love.    How  the  heart  of  that  poor  mothei 
bleeds.    Her  days  and  nights  are  spent  in  weeping.     Her 
life  is  dark  and  desolate.     But  does  she  hate  her  child,  or 
cease  to  love  him  because  of  his  ingratitude  ?    Ah  no  !  for 
from  it.     Her  love  only  grows  stronger  and  more  tender. 
Like  the  ivy  that  clings  to  the  mouldering  ruin  and  saves 
it  from  falling  utterly,  her  love  still  clings   to  her  child, 
though  ruined  and  despised  and  forsaken  by  all. 

Some  years  ago  there  was  a  poor  widow  who  had  an  only 
son.  She  loved  this  son  dearly,  and  spared  no  pains  to  in- 
stil  into  his  heart  the  principles  of  virtue.  In  spite,  how 
ever,  of  all  her  care,  the  young  man  went  off  with  wicked 
companions,  and  became  the  scandal  of  the  whole  neighbor 
hood.  He  often  abused  and  struck  his  mother,  and  even 
threatened  to  kill  her.  This  unhappy  young  man  gave  him 
self  up  to  every  crime.  At  last,  he  was  arrested  and  cast 
into  prison.  One  day  a  stranger  knocked  at  the  prison-door. 
The  jailer  came  out  to  see  who  it  was,  and  learned  to  his 
surprise  that  it  was  the  mother  of  this  wicked  man.  "  Ah  ! " 
she  said,  weeping,  "  I  wish  to  see  my  son."  "  What !  " 
cried  the  jailer,  in  astonishment,  "you  wish  to  see  that 
wretch  !  Have  you  forgotten  all  that  he  has  done  to  you  ?  " 
"Ah  !  I  know  it  well,"  replied  the  widow,  "but  he  is  my 
son."  "Why!"  cried  the  jailer,  "he  has  robbed  you  of 
every  cent."  "  I  know  it,"  she  replied,  "  but  he  is  still  iny 


(TOD'S  MERCY.  273 

*on.v  "But  he  has  struck  you,  abused  you,  and  even 
threatened  to  kill  yon,"  said  the  jailer.  "  "Tis  true/' was 
the  answer.  "lam  still  his  mother — he  is  still  my  son." 
"But,"  cried  the  jailer,  "he  has  not  only  abused  and  rob 
bed  you,  he  has  shamefully  abandoned  you.  Such  an  unna 
tural  son  is  not  worthy  to  live."  "Ah  !  but  he  is  my  son; 
I  am  his  mother."  And  the  poor  widow  sobbed  and  wept, 
till  at  last  the  jailer  was  touched,  and  permitted  her  to  en 
ter  the  prison  ;  and  the  fond  mother  threw  her  arms  around 
the  neck  of  that  unnatural,  ungrateful  son,  and  pressed 
him  again  and  again  to  her  breaking  heart. 

God  it  is  who  has  implanted  this  love  in  the  mother's 
heart.  How  great,  then,  how  unbounded  must  His  love 
and  mercy  for  poor  miserable  sinners  be,  since  the  love  of 
all  the  mothers  on  earth  is  but  a  tiny  stream  from  the  im 
mense  ocean  of  God's  infinite  love  for  men  !  Yes,  as  the 
holy  Scripture  assures  us,  "  God  is  love."  God  is  infinitely 
merciful.  God  has  created  us  all  for  heaven.  He  has  cre 
ated  no  one  in  order  to  send  him  to  hell.  Strictly  speaking, 
i*-.  is  not  God  who  sends  the  sinner  to  hell,  but  the  sinner 
himself  who  chooses  hell  in  preference  to  God.  It  is  the 
sinner  who  damns  himself  through  his  own  wilful  malice. 
There  are  many  who  complain  of  the  rigor  of  God's  justice 
in  condemning  souls  to  hell.  But  who  is  to  blame  if  soula 
are  condemned  ?  It  is  the  sinner  himself,  and  not  God. 
It  is  always  with  regret  that  God  punishes  the  sinner.  It 
is  the  sinner  who  forces  God  to  chastise  him.  God,  indeed, 
hates  sin  of  every  kind,  but  at  the  same  time  He  loves  and 
pities  the  poor  sinner,  and,  therefore,  He  makes  use  of  vari 
ous  means  to  call  him  back  from  his  evil  ways.  We  all  fear 
God  naturally.  Just  as  Adam  fled  away  and  hid  himself 
from  the  face  of  God,  so  we  all  fear  at  times,  and  especially 
after  we  have  committed  sin.  We  commit  some  faults  every 
day;  perhaps  even  some  griovons  sin  is  weighing  on  our 
conscience  ;  we,  therefore,  feul  the  want  of  a  mciciful  God 


274  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL: 

— a  merciful  Father,  who  forgives  everything,  and  receives 
us  again  into  His  friendship. 

Let  us  look  back  for  a  moment  into  our  past  life,  and  we 
shall  see  clearly  that  there  were  times  when  God,  as  a  mer 
ciful  Father,  called  us  in  a  most  especial  manner.  Perhaps 
God's  call  came  in  the  shape  of  some  great  affliction.  We 
had  a  happy  home ;  the  purest  oi  earthly  joys  were  ours. 
God  gave  us  a  loving  wife,  a  fond  husband,  a  darling  child. 
•There  was  a  loving  heart  to  sympathize  with  us  in  all  our 
joys  and  sorrows.  Our  soul  was  centred  in  those  dear  ob 
jects.  We  had  our  paradise  on  earth.  Ah  !  there  was  dan 
ger  of  loving  them  too  much ;  danger  of  forgetting  God. 
But  the  angel  of  death  entered  our  abode,  and  that  sympa 
thizing  heart  stood  still,  that  kindly  eye  was  closed,  that 
loving  voice  was  silent.  Then  we  wept,  and  moaned,  and 
murmured,  perhaps,  even  against  God.  We  did  not  know  ; 
we  did  not  see  that  that  was  a  warning  for  us.  It  was  the 
voice  of  our  good  Father  calling  to  us,  and  bidding  us  look 
up  towards  heaven.  Or,  perhaps,  God  sent  us  a  fit  of  sick 
ness.  We  were  in  the  enjoyment  of  robust  health ;  our 
hands  were  full  of  business  ;  we  had  not  time  to  go  to  con 
fession.  God  stretched  us  on  a  sick  bed,  and  there  we  had 
to  take  time — time  to  suffer,  time  to  pray,  time  to  examine 
our  conscience,  and  make  a  good  confession. 

There  was  a  man  in  North  Carolina  during  the  time  of 
the  late  war  who  said  that  he  used  to  run  away  from  the 
priest,  from  God.  He  went  to  North  Carolina  expressly  to 
be  far  away  from  the  priest  and  the  church.  "  But  at  last," 
as  he  said,  "the  good  Shepherd  caught  the  stray  sheep  by  the 
leg."  He  cut  his  foot  with  an  axe  while  working,  and  was 
placed  in  a  hospital.  Many  of  the  rich  in  their  pride  of 
wealth  forgot  God.  God  sent  the  war,  and  with  it  re 
verse  of  fortune.  They  lost  everything,  and  were  reduced 
to  poverty.  It  was  the  Heavenly  Father  calling  in  mercy, 
and  entreating  those  who  had  forgotten  Him  to  turn  to  Him 


GOD'S  ME  ROT.  275 

On  the  day  of  judgment  we  shall  see  how  often  our  Lord 
called  us  and  spoke  to  our  heart.  Sometimes  he  speaks 
to  us  in  a  book  ;  sometimes  in  a  sermon  ;  sometimes  by  re 
morse  of  conscience  ;  sometimes  in  the  person  of  a  friend, 
of  a  wife,  or  of  children.  Sometimes  God  enlightens  us  all  of 
a  sudden,  and  shows  us  the  enormity  of  our  sins,  the  terrible 
danger  in  which  we  stand,  and  the  madness  of  losing  His 
friendship,  the  hope  of  heaven,  and  peace  of  heart,  for  a  mere 
momentary  gratification.  At  other  times  God  recalls  to  our 
mind  the  peace  and  happiness  we  enjoyed  before  we  fell  into 
sin,  and  the  solemn  promises  we  made  to  be  faithful  to  Him 
and  to  love  Him. 

When  Adam  committed  his  first  sin,  he  was  filled  with  ter 
ror  and  remorse,  and  fled  away  and  tried  to  hide  himself  from 
the  face  of  God.  But  God  had  pity  on  him  :  He  called  after 
him,  and  said,  in  a  tone  of  compassion :  '*  Adam,  where  art 
thou  ?  "  It  is  thus  that  our  Blessed  Lord  still  goes  after  the 
sinner  who  tries  to  flee  away  and  hide  himself  from  the  face 
of  God.  "My  child,"  says  our  Saviour  to  the  sinner, 
"what  has  become  of  you?  Do  you  not  hear  my  voice  ? 
What  have  I  done  that  you  have  abandoned  me  and  cast 
mo  out  from  your  heart  ?  Can  you  ever  find  a  better  Lord, 
a  kinder  Father  than  I  am  ?  Ah  !  remember  how  happy 
you  were  when  you  were  yet  in  my  grace  ;  when  you  were  yet 
pure  and  innocent ;  and  now,  see  to  what  a  pass  your  sins 
have  brought  you  ?  " 

Has  the  sinner  never,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  wildest 
gayety  and  of  his  sinful  pleasures,  felt  a  strange  bitterness, 
an  unaccountable  melancholy,  a  feeling  of  utter  loneliness, 
settling  upon  his  heart  ?  He  could  not  tell  the  cause  ;  he 
felt  weary  and  heartsick,  he  knew  not  why.  What  was  the 
cause  of  this  strange,  unaccountable  sadness  ?  It  was  the 
voice  of  our  Heavenly  Father  calling  him  from  the  base  and 
shameful  pleasures  of  the  world  to  His  pure  and  blessed 
love. 


$78  THE  FATHER  OP  THE  PRODIGAL  : 

As  soon  as  we  have  committed  our  first  sin,  God  calls  ns 
back  by  sending  us  remorse  of  conscience.  He  has  been 
calling  us  unceasingly  ever  since.  He  calls  us  now  once 
more  by  the  voice  speaking  through  these  pages.  Is  it  not 
astonishing  that  God  should  call  and  seek  the  sinner,  who 
is  His  enemy  ?  One  does  not  seek  an  enemy  except  through 
revenge,  through  hopes  of  gain,  or  from  motives  of  fear. 
But  God  has  nothing  to  hope  or  fear  from  a  sinner ;  He  can 
annihilate  him  or  precipitate  him  into  hell.  Why,  then, 
does  the  Majesty  of  Heaven  seek  the  sinner  ?  It  is  because 
God  is  a  Father,  who  loves  and  desires  the  salvation  even  of 
His  erring  children. 

Not  only  does  God  seek  the  sinner,  but  he  seeks  him 
first,  and  invites  him  to  be  reconciled.  When  the  question 
arises  of  being  reconciled  with  an  enemy,  it  is  extremely 
painful  to  nature  to  make  the  first  advance  ;  each  one  be 
lieving  himself  to  be  in  the  right,  desires  to  receive  satisfac 
tion  for  the  offence  that  has  been  offered.  What  outrages 
have  been  committed  against  God  !  We  are  invariably  the 
aggressor,  and  the  fault  is  always  on  our  side.  Nevertheless, 
God  seeks  the  sinner  first  by  the  graces  with  which  he  en 
lightens  his  mind  and  touches  his  heart.  And  not  only 
does  He  invite  the  sinner  to  be  at  peace  with  Him,  but  He 
even  makes  the  invitation  in  the  manner  of  a  suppliant,  just 
as  if  God  Himself  were  the  offender,  and  the  sinner  had  it 
in  his  power  to  inflict  evil  on  Him.  "  We  are,  therefore," 
says  St.  Paul,  "  ambassadors  for  Christ,  God,  as  it  were,  ex 
horting  by  as.  For  Christ  we  beseech  you,  be  ye  reconciled 
to  God. "* 

Many  are  there  whom  their  Heavenly  Father  has  been 
following  and  calling  and  inviting  these  thirty,  forty,  and 
even  sixty  years.  In  the  revelations  of  St.  Bridget,!  we  read 
that  there  was  a  rich  man,  as  noble  by  birth  as  he  was  vile 
and  sinful  in  his  habits.  He  had  given  himself  over  by 

*  2  Cor.  T.  f  Lib.  ri.  c.  97. 


MSROT.  27? 

an  express  compact  as  a  slave  to  the  devil ;  and  for  sixty 
successive  years  had  served  him,  leading  such  a  life  as  may 
be  imagined,  and  never  approaching  the  Sacraments.  This 
prince  at  last  came  to  die  ;  and  Jesus  Christ,  to  show  him 
mercy,  appeared  to  St.  Bridget,  and  commanded  her  to  tell 
her  confessor  to  go  and  visit  him,  and  exhort  him  to 
confess  his  sins.  The  confessor  went,  and  the  sick  man 
said  that  he  was  not  in  need  of  confession,  as  he  had  often 
approached  the  sacrament  of  penance.  The  priest  went  a 
second  time ;  but  the  poor  slave  of  hell  persevered  in 
his  obstinate  determination  not  to  confess.  Jesus  again 
appeared  to  St.  Bridget,  and  told  her  to  request  her 
confessor  to  return.  He  did  so.  On  this  occasion  the 
priest  said  to  the  sick  man  :  "I  suppose  you  do  not  know 
who  sent  me  to  you  three  times  to  hear  your  confession. 
It  is  Jesus  Christ  Himself,  for  He  appeared  three  times 
to  His  great  servant,  and  each  time  requested  me,  through 
her,  to  exhort  you  to  make  your  confession,  as  he  wished  to 
show  you  mercy."  On  hearing  this  the  dying  man  was 
touched  and  began  to  weep.  "  But  how  can  I  be  saved," 
he  exclaimed,  "I  who  for  sixty  years  have  served  the  devil 
as  his  slave,  and  have  committed  innumerable  sins  ? " 
"  My  son,"  answered  the  priest,  encouraging  him,  "  do  not 
doubt ;  if  you  repent  of  them,  on  the  part  of  God  I  promise 
you  pardon."  Then,  gaining  confidence,  he  said  to  the 
confessor:  "Father,  I  looked  upon  myself  as  lost,  and 
already  despaired  of  salvation  ;  but  now  I  feel  a  sorrow  for 
my  sins  which  gives  me  confidence,  and  since  God  has  not 
yet  abandoned  me,  I  will  make  my  confession."  And  he 
made  his  confession  four  times  on  that  day,  with  the 
greatest  marks  of  sorrow,  and  on  the  following  morning 
received  communion.  On  the  sixth  day,  contrite  and 
resigned,  he  died.  After  his  death,  Jesus  Christ  again 
appeared  to  St.  Bridget,  and  told  her  that  that  sinner  was 
iuved ;  that  he  was  then  in  Purgatory ;  and  that  she  should 


278  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL: 

pray  for  his  delivery  from  the  Purgatorial  flames.  Thus  we 
see  that  God  dearly  loves  the  sinner  even  when  he  is  guilty 
of  sin,  or  else  he  would  not  constantly  follow  him  and  call 
him  back  from  his  evil  ways. 

And  even  though  the  sinner  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  voice 
of  the   Lord,   God    does  not  immediately   abandon   him, 
but  waits  patiently  for  his  return.      "Behold,"  says  the 
Lord,  " how  I  stand  at  your  door  and  knock."  *     "He  that 
rises  early  to  seek  wisdom,  shall  not  go  far  before  he  meets 
it,  he  shall  find  it  sitting  at  his  door."  f     How  infinite  is 
the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God  !      He  is  not  content  with 
coming  to  seek  us  and  knocking  often  at  the  door  of  our 
hearts ;  but  as  if  He  were  tired  of  knocking,  He  sits  down 
at  our  door,  to  let  us  know  that  He  would  have  entered 
before  had  He  not  found  it  shut.     Instead  of  going  away 
and  leaving  us,  He  chooses  rather  to  sit  down  and  wait,  that 
we  may  be  sure  of  finding  Him  as  soon  as  we  open  the  door. 
Though  we  may  have  delayed  to  open  our  heart  to  God 
and  to  comply  with  His  inspirations,  yet  He  has  not,  on  that 
account,  gone  away.     He  has  too  great  a  desire  of  entering 
to  be  so  easily  repulsed,  and  therefore  He  sits  at  the  door  of 
our  heart  and  waits  until  we  open  and  let  him  in.     To 
understand  in  some  measure  the  excessive  patience  and 
charity  with  which  God  waits  for  the  return  of  wretched 
sinners,  we  have  but  to  consider  with  what  earnestness  He 
has,  at  all  times,  recommended  the  important  lesson  of 
patience  and  meekness  to  all  those  who  labor  in  persuading 
the  wicked  and  impious  to  leave  their  evil  ways.      Moses 
once  complained  to  God  in  the  following  moving  words: 
"  Why  wilt  Thou  have  me  carry  this  people  in  my  bosom 
as  a  little  child  or  an  innocent  lamb  ?      Dost  Thou  not 
remember  that  they  number  more  than  two  millions  of 
souls,  that  they  are  a  rebellious  nation,  daily  manifesting 
their  faithlessness?       How  can   I  bear  them  all   in   my 
*  Apoc.  iii.  20.  +  Wlad.  vi  15. 


GOD'S  MERCY.  279 

bosom  Still,   this   complaint  did   not   induce  God  to 

change  His  will.  He  insisted  that  Moses  should  speak 
to  those  passionate  and  indocile  men  precisely  as  he  would 
Bpeak  to  a  child  which  has  cast  itself  into  his  arms. 
(:  Moses,"  said  God  to  the  holy  lawgiver,  "  it  is  my  will  that 
thou  lead  my  people  back  to  their  duty  and  maintain  them 
therein,  in  no  other  way  than  by  the  mildness  and  patience 
of  paternal  affection." 

What  one  day  befel  Elias  is  worthy  of  notice.  This 
holy  man  possessed  sincere  and  burning  zeal.  If  what  he 
desired  was  not  done  quickly,  he  listened  to  nothing  but  his 
zeal.  He  even  went  so  far  as  often  to  wish  himself  dead. 
Now,  God  once  allowed  him  to  see  something  which  might 
serve  as  a  most  wholesome  lesson  to  him.  On  a  certain  oc 
casion,  in  which  his  zeal  was  at  its  height,  and  at  the  very 
moment  when  he  had  wished  for  death,  God  commanded 
him  to  keep  himself  ready  to  see  his  Majesty.  He  imme 
diately  heard  so  great  a  crash  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  ele 
ments  were  let  loose  and  the  mountains  were  moving  from 
their  places.  But  the  prophet  was  told  that  God  was  not  in 
this  awful  crash.  Then  he  heard  the  stormy  whistling  of  a 
furious  north-wind,  which  appeared  to  uproot  everything. 
Again  was  the  prophet  told  that  God  was  not  in  the  storm. 
This  was  followed  by  a  fire  which  threatened  to  lay  every 
thing  in  ashes.  Once  more  was  he  told  that  God  was  not  in 
this  destructive  fire,  that  the  Divine  Majesty  took  no  pleas 
ure  in  such  violent,  stormy  things.  At  last,  the  prophet 
perceived  an  east  wind  blowing  gently  and  evenly,  with  a 
slight,  an  extraordinarily  sweet  rustling.  "  Ah  !"  said  Elias, 
"this  is  certainly  the  Lord  God."  He  cast  himself  upon 
the  ground,  and,  veiling  his  head  with  his  mantle,  worship 
ped  God,  and  gave  Him  thanks  for  having  made  known  to 
him  the  great  workings  of  His  Divine  Spirit,  and  what  was 
most  pleasing  to  Him  upon  earth — viz.,  patience  and  for 
bearance  with  Binners. 


280  Tss  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL: 

One  day  Father  Martin  Gouttierez,  S.J.,  complained 
very  much  to  Almighty  God  about  the  faults  of  certain 
souls.  He  thought  his  complaints  were  very  just,  especially 
as  all  his  zealous  efforts  for  their  amendment  had  been  una 
vailing.  Our  Lord  was  pleased  to  instruct  him  in  the  fol 
lowing  manner.  He  showed  him,  in  a  vision,  a  silver  vessel 
containing  a  very  small  heart,  which  was  drowning  in  a  few 
drops  of  water.  Near  this  vessel  the  zealous  father  saw 
another  full  of  water,  and  containing  a  heart  so  large  that 
the  entire  mass  of  water  was  scarcely  sufficient  to  wet  it. 
"Whilst  reflecting  on  the  meaning  of  this  vision,  he  heard 
the  following  words  :  "  The  heart  which  you  see  drowned 
in  a  few  drops  of  water  represents  your  own,  which  im 
moderately  grieves  at  the  slightest  occurrence.  But  the 
large  heart,  which  does  not  sink  in  spite  of  the  great  quan 
tity  of  water,  represents  the  heart  of  God,  which,  without 
being  discouraged ,  bears  with  all  men,  with  idolaters,  infi 
dels,  heretics,  the  impious,  and  sinners  of  every  kind, 
awaiting  the  happy  day  of  their  conversion  with  the  most 
admirable  patience.  Now  this  patience,  goodness,  and  long- 
suffering  of  the  Lord  must  be  your  model." 

The  whole  of  the  New  Testament  is  full  of  great  exam 
ples  of  the  patience  and  meekness  of  Jesus  Christ  towards 
sinners.  All  His  precepts  might  be  reduced  to  the  one  pre 
cept  of  patience  and  mercy.  One  day,  when  the  Apostles 
felt  themselves  provoked  because  the  inhabitants  of  a  cer 
tain  town  would  not  allow  them  to  enter  it,  they  asked  of 
our  Divine  Saviour  to  make  fire  come  down  from  heaven 
upon  the  inhabitants  of  that  town.  But  the  God  of  good 
ness  and  mildness  blamed  the  apostles  for  this  request,  tell 
ing  them  that  they  spoke  not  as  Apostles,  that  this  severe 
spirit  was  not  the  spirit  which  He  had  so  often  preached 
and  sought  to  impart  to  them.  "  Ye  know  not  of  what 
spirit  ye  are.  I  will  have  mercy,"*  said  He.  With  what 
*  Matt.  ix.  18. 


&OD'S  MSRCT.  281 

great  patience  and  meekness  did  He  not  for  three  years 
bear  with  Judas,  His  betrayer,  without  depriving  him  of 
the  office  of  procurator,  or  deposing  him  from  the  Apostle- 
eliip  !  He  did  not  even  so  much  as  reveal  his  crimes  to  any 
one. 

"The  Lord  waits,"  says  Isaias,  "that  He  may  show 
mercy  to  you."  *  For  this  reason  it  is  that  God  prevents 
the  devil  from  killing  the  sinner  and  dragging  him  into 
hell.  He  forbids  the  earth  to  open  under  his  feet,  He  suf 
fers  him  to  breathe  His  air,  He  preserves  his  life  often,  even 
miraculously  amidst  the  greatest  dangers,  He  delays  His 
punishments  as  long  as  possible,  that  the  poor  ungrateful 
wretch  may  repent  and  at  last  return  to  His  friendship. 
And,  when  obliged  to  punish,  when  He  can  delay  no  longer, 
He  does  it  with  such  slowness  that  He  discharges  His  anger 
little  by  little,  to  oblige  the  sinner  to  repent  of  his  sins  and 
to  arrest  the  arm  of  His  vengeance.  God  might  have  de 
stroyed  the  city  of  Jericho  in  one  instant,  yet  He  spent  seven 
days  in  destroying  it.  In  like  manner,  He  might  have  de 
stroyed  the  world  by  water  in  one  moment,  yet  He  spent  forty 
days  in  this  work.  Why  ?  In  order  that  those  who  were 
destroyed  might  have  time  for  doing  penance,  and  so  be 
saved. 

Father  Patrignani  (Corona  ffEsempi,  IV.  Esemp.  13,  t. 
iv. )  relates  that  a  certain  woman  had  committed  a  great 
many  crimes,  but  Jesus  patiently  waited  for  her  conversion. 
As  the  woman  seeks  the  lost  penny  in  the  sweepings,  so  did 
Jesus  seek  this  lost  soul  in  the  very  midst  of  her  sinful  ca 
reer.  This  woman  at  last  went  so  far  in  her  wickedness 
as  to  receive  Holy  Communion  unworthily.  After  having 
received,  she  drew  from  her  mouth  the  sacred  particle  and 
placed  it  in  a  handkerchief.  She  then  went  to  shut  herself 
up  in  her  room,  where  she  threw  the  Blessed  Sacrament 
on  the  ground,  and  began  to  trample  it  under  her  feet.  But 
*  Isa.  xxx.  18. 


283  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  : 

lo  !  she  casts  her  eyes  down,  and  what  does  she  see  !  She 
sees  the  Sacred  Host  changed  into  the  form  of  a  beautiful 
Infant,  but  all  bruised  and  covered  with  blood ;  and  the  In 
fant  Jesus  said  to  her :  "  What  have  I  done  to  you  that  you 
treat  me  so  ill  ?  "  Upon  which  the  wretched  creature,  full 
of  contrition  and  repentance,  threw  herself  on  her  knees  in 
tears,  and  said  to  Him :  "0  my  God,  dost  Thou  ask  me 
what  Thou  hast  done  to  me  ?  Thou  hast  loved  me  too 
much."  The  vision  disappeared,  and  the  woman  changed 
her  life  and  became  a  model  of  penance.  Oh !  the  great 
patience  of  God  in  waiting  for  the  return  of  the  sinner. 

When  Solomon  perceived  that  God  acted  in  so  patient 
and  mild  a  manner  towards  poor  sinners,  he  could  not  help 
expressing  his  joy  at  it  in  the  Book  of  Wisdom.  "  Great 
God,"  he  cries,  "  what  joy  it  is  for  me  to  see  Thee,  the 
mighty  Lord  of  Hosts,  dealing  with  men  so  mildly  and  act 
ing  towards  us  so  considerately,  as  though  Thou  didst  fear  to 
hurt  us  or  cause  us  the  least  sorrow  !  Oh  !  how  happy  are  we 
that  Thou  canst  do  all  Thou  wiliest,  and  that  Thou  wiliest 
not  what  Thou  canst  do.  By  this,  Thy  gentle  manner  of 
treating  us  Thou  surely  dost  wish  to  teach  us  that  it  is  pe 
culiar  to  Thee  to  be  merciful  and  to  spare."  "  Therefore, 
despise  not,  0  sinner!"  says  St.  Paul,  "the  riches  of  the 
goodness  and  patience  and  long-suffering  of  the  Lord."  For 
you  must  know  that  God  is  so  patient  with  you  in  order 
that  you  may  do  penance  and  return  to  His  friendship.  But 
God  does  not  simply  seek  out  and  call  the  sinner  to  repent 
ance  ;  He  does  not  only  wait  patiently  for  his  return,  but  He 
receives  the  repentant  sinner  with  the  greatest  joy.  "  If  a 
man's  wife  abandon  him,"  says  the  Lord,  "  shall  he  receive 
her  again  ?  But  yet,  if  you  return  to  me,  I  will  receive 
you."  *  "  Yes,"  says  the  Lord,  "  if  I  shut  up  heaven,  and 
there  fall  no  rain,  or  if  I  give  orders  and  command  the  lo 
custs  to  devour  the  land,  or  if  I  send  pestilence  among 
*  Jer.  iii.  t 


G  OD'S  MER  cr.  283 

my  people,  and  iny  people  upon  whom  my  name  is  called, 
being  converted,  shall  make  supplication  to  me,  and  seek 
oat  my  face,  and  do  penance  for  their  most  wicked  ways : 
then  will  I  hear  from  heaven,  and  I  will  forgive  their  sins, 
and  will  heal  their  land."*  "Indeed,"  says  our  Divine 
Saviour,  "I  will  not  cast  out  him  that  cometh  tome."f 
He  was  never  known  to  reject  any  one  who  addressed  him 
self  to  Him.  To  draw  sinners  after  Him,  He  condescended 
to  frequent  their  company,  and  to  eat  with  them.  He  de 
clared  that  it  was  for  them  that  He  came  into  the  world. 

He  illustrates  His  love  and  tenderness  for  sinners,  and  the 
great  joy  with  which  He  receives  them,  by  four  excellent 
figures.  The  first  is  that  of  a  merchant,  who  sold  all  that 
he  possessed  for  the  purpose  of  buying  a  pearl  of  great 
price.  This  pearl  is  our  soul,  and  the  merchant  is  the 
Son  of  God.  What  has  He  given  to  purchase  our  soul  ? 
His  goods,  His  blood,  His  sufferings  and  labors,  and  His 
life. 

The  second  figure  by  which  our  Saviour  illustrates  His 
love  and  joy  in  receiving  sinners,  is  that  of  a  woman  who, 
having  lost  a  piece  of  silver,  lit  her  lamp  and  swept  her 
house,  and,  after  having  found  it,  invited  her  friends  to 
rejoice  with  her.  "  Thus,"  says  the  Son  of  God,  "  there  is 
joy  in  heaven  upon  one  sinner  doing  penance."  "Ob 
serve,"  says  St.  Thomas,  "  that  the  Son  of  God  does  not  say 
that  He  has  bought  this  drachm  of  silver  (by  which  is 
meant  our  soul,  at  the  price  of  His  blood,  but  that  He  has 
found  it ;  for  He  so  esteems  a  soul  that  He  believes  that  He 
has  it  for  nothing,  although  He  has  paid  the  price  of  His 
blood  for  it.  He  does  not  invite  the  angels  to  rejoice  with 
the  man  that  was  lost  and  then  found,  but  with  Himself,  as 
if  the  sinner  were  of  such  an  infinite  consequence  to  Him 
that  He  could  not  enjoy  the  felicity  of  His  heavenly  king 
dom  without  him." 

*  2  Paralip.  rli.  18, 14.  4  John  vt  37. 


384  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  : 

The  third  figure  is  that  of  a  shepherd,  who  left  ninety 
nine  sheep  and  went  into  the  desert  to  search  for  one  thai 
was  lost,  and  after  having  found  it  placed  it  upon  his  shoul 
ders,  and  invited  all  his  friends  to  rejoice  with  him.  When 
he  found  the  strayed  one  he  did  not  beat  it  with  his  crook 
or  allow  his  dog  to  punish  it  for  wandering,  nor  did  he 
drive  it  before  him,  but  lifted  it  in  his  arms,  and  bore  it  on 
his  shoulders,  perhaps  because  he  thought  it  was  fatigued, 
or  perhaps  because  he  feared  it  would  wander  astray  again. 
"  Thus,"  says  the  Son  of  God,  "  there  shall  be  more  joy  in 
heaven  upon  the  sinner  doing  penance  than  for  the  ninety- 
nine  who  are  just." 

The  fourth  figure  is  that  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  who  re 
turned,  worn  out  with  miseries  and  debaucheries,  to  his 
father's  house.  His  father,  seeing  him  approach,  ran  out  to 
meet  him,  and  placed  a  ring  on  his  finger;  after  which  he 
treated  him  as  one  who  returned  in  triumph,  with  every 
mark  of  rejoicing,  without  once  reproaching  him  for  his 
crimes  and  disobedience,  or  giving  him  an  opportunity  to 
utter  the  apology  he  had  framed  for  the  occasion.  Bo- 
hold  how  Jesus  receives  a  sinner  who,  in  the  character  of  a 
true  penitent,  returns  to  Him  !  He  receives  him  by  His 
graces  and  inspirations.  He  gives  him  the  kiss  of  peace, 
forgets  the  past,  receives  him  into  His  love  and  confidence, 
fills  his  heart  with  consolation,  and  bids  the  angels  to  take 
part  in  His  joy. 

How  great  is  the  loving  condescension  of  Jesus  !  AVhen 
we  consider  the  sanctity  of  God,  that  awful  sanctity  which 
once  cleansed,  by  the  deluge,  a  guilty  world— when  we  con 
sider  this  awful  sanctity,  we  naturally  think  that  when 
Jesus  came  into  personal  contact  with  public  and  noto 
rious  sinners,  His  divine  sanctity  would  flash  through 
and  crush  to  the  earth  those  guilty  creatures.  But  no  1 
That  He  might  banish  our  fears,  Jesus  even  assures  us  that 
He  came  not  to  judge  but  to  save  the  world.  "  I  am 


GOD'S  MERCY.  285 

come,"  He  says,  "not  to  call  the  just,  but  to  call  sinners  to 
repentance." 

There  is  especially  one  wicked  and  notorious  sinner  who 
conies  to   Jesus.     She  comes  to  hear,  not  indeed  out  of  any 
wish  to  do  better,  but  merely  because  her  sister  Martha  has 
persuaded  her  to  come.     She  goes  along  the  street  in  all 
the  haughty  pomp  and  insolence  of  her  beauty.     Her  long 
hair  is  glittering  with  jewels ;  she  throws  shameless  glances 
around  her  as  she  goes  ;  there  is  sin  in  every  look  and  word 
and   gesture.     She  goes  to  hear  Jesus  of  Nazareth  preach, 
and  to  brave  His  power.     At  last,  she  comes  within  His  in 
fluence  ;  her  eyes  are  bent  upon  Him  :  the  sweet  sound  of 
His  voice  reaches  her  ear.     Ah  !  what  ails  her  now  ?    What 
a  sudden  change  conies  over  her  !    Her  eyes  are  riveted  on 
Jesus  ;  her  color  comes  and  goes.    The  tones  of   that  voice 
have  gone  down  to  depths  of  her  soul  of  which  she  herself 
knew  nothing.     A  moment  ago,  and  she  gloried  in  the  tri 
umph  of  her  fascinations  ;  she  exulted  in  her  sinful  power. 
Young,  rich,  and  beautiful,  she  set  public  opinion  at  defi 
ance.     She  had  many  admirers,  and  that  was  the  height  of 
her  ambition.     But   now,  all  at  once  a  new  light  flashed 
upon  her  soul :  it  is  the  knowledge  of  the  deep,  shameful 
degradation  of  sin.     And  then  there  comes  upon  her  with 
a  crushing  force  the  terrible  view  of  God's  dread  justice,  of 
death,  and  of  eternity.     Ah  !  where  shall  she  hide  herself  ? 
Whither  shall  she  fly  ?    She  would  have  instantly  sunk  to 
the  earth  in  shame  and  terror  had  she  not  been  upheld  by 
the  gentle  hope  of  God's  mercy.     And  now  she  rushes  home 
with  a  wild  tumult  in  her  heart  which  she  had  never  felt 
before.     Who   could   that   preacher   be    that   so   strangely 
etirred  her  soul  ?    Who  was  that  man  who  knew  her  soul  so 
well  ?    At  the  very  sound  of   His  voice  a  new  light  had 
flashed  upon  her  mind,  her  trembling  will  had  yielded  to 
His  sway,  and  her  proud  heart  had  been  crushed  within  her. 
Who  could  it  be  but  God  ?    She  had  heard  of  the  Emmau- 


286  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  : 

uel — the  God  with  us,  who  was  to  be  born  of  a  virgin,  and, 
enlightened  by  divine  grace,  she  felt  that  this  must  be  lie. 
Yes,  she  had  seen  her  God,  and  yet,  guilty  as  she  was,  she 
did  not  die.  No,  she  felt  no  dismay ;  on  the  contrary,  a 
strange,  unutterable  yearning  took  possession  of  her  soul ; 
she  could  not,  she  would  not,  rest;  she  must  see  that  heav 
enly  face  again.  She  thought  in  her  heart  :  "  He  nia^ 
banish  me  from  His  presence,  but  I  must  gaze  once  more 
upon  the  face  of  my  God,  even  though  it  be  for  the  last 
time."  She  learned  that  Jesus  was  to  be  at  a  banquet  in 
the  house  of  a  certain  Pharisee.  She  knew  that  her  pres 
ence  there  would  be  felt  as  a  leprosy  by  all,  but  what  cared 
she  ?  What  was  the  world  to  her  now  ?  She  cast  off  her 
silken  robes  and  put  on  a  homely  attire.  She  tore  the  glit 
tering  jewels  from  her  hair  and  trampled  them  under  foot. 
With  dishevelled  locks  flowing  down  her  shoulders,  and  ail 
alabaster  vase  of  precious  ointment  in  her  hands,  she  walks* 
rapidly  through  the  streets  to  the  house  of  the  Pharisee. 
The  guests  stare  wildly  at  her  as  she  enters ;  their  looks  are 
full  of  anger  and  disgust.  But  she  heeds  not  their  looks, 
she  sees  no  one  but  Jesus.  All  eyes  follow  her  in  wonder  as 
she  kneels  at  Jesus'  feet.  They  think  that  He  will  shrink 
from  her ;  but  see  !  Magdalen  grows  bolder  still— she  eveu 
kisses  His  sacred  feet  with  her  sinful  lips  !  Surely,  now, 
the  God  of  all  sanctity  will  arise  and  spurn  this  wicked 
woman.  But  no  ;  He  bears  the  touch  of  her  polluted  lips. 
The  bursting  tears  of  this  poor  lost  creature  flow  unrebuked 
upon  His  feet,  and  with  her  long  hair  she  wipes  away  the 
moisture  of  her  tears.  At  this  sight  the  Pharisee  is  scandal 
ized,  and  says  in  his  scornful  heart :  "  This  man  is  certainly 
no  prophet ;  if  he  were,  he  would  have  spurned  this  sinful 
woman  from  him"  And  the  Pharisee  spoke  the  truth. 
Jesus  was  no  prophet.  No  !  He  was  more  than  a  prophet ; 
He  was  God— the  God  of  love— the  God  of  mercy— the  God 
who  had  created  that  poor  lost  creature  and  called  her  by 


MBROT.  287 

name,  who  had  allured  her  and  spoken  to  her  heart.     And 
now  Jesus  turned  His  eyes  upon  her  and  then  upon  the 
Pharisee,  whose  thoughts  He  read,  and  amid  the  breathless 
silence  of  all  present,  He  said  :  "  Simon,  I  have  a  word  to 
say  to  you."   And  the  Pharisee  answered,  "  Speak,  Master." 
Then  Jesus  said :   "  A  certain  man  had  two  debtors  ;  the 
one  owed  him  five  hundred  talents,  and  the  other  only  fifty. 
But  as  they  could  not  pay  him,  he  forgave  them.     Now, 
which  of   the  two,  think  you,  loveth  him  most  ? "    And 
Simon  answered  :  "  I  suppose  he  to  whom  he  remitted  the 
most."    Then  Jesus  said :  "  You  have  judged  right."    And, 
pointing  to  Magdalen,  He  said  :  "Do  you  see  this  woman  ? 
I  entered  your  house,  and  you  gave  me  no  water  for  my  feet 
but  she,  with  her  tears,  hath  washed  my  feet,  and  with  her 
hair  hath  wiped  them.     You  gave  me  not  the  kiss  of  friend 
ship,  but  she,  since  she  entered,  hath  not  ceased  to  kiss  my 
feet.     You  did  not  anoint  my  head  with  oil,  but  she  with 
precious  ointment  hath  anointed  my  feet.     Therefore  I  say 
to  you :  her  manifold  sins  are  forgiven,  because  she  hath 
loved  much."     And  then  He  said  gently  to  the  sinful  Mag 
dalen  :    "  Go  now  in  peace ;   thy  sins   are  forgiven   thee." 
Ah  !  where  will  you  find  a  heart  so  tender,  so  compassion 
ate,  as  the  loving  heart  of  Jesus  ?    With  what  loving  tender 
ness  did  He  not  receive  His  weak  and  erring  apostle  !    Peter 
had  denied  Him  thrice,  and  had  even  declared,  with  an  oath, 
that  he  knew  Him  not.     At  that  moment  his  eyes  met  the 
eyes  of  Jesus.     It  was  a  moment  when  all  dignity  and  beauty 
were  gone  from  the  face  of  our  Lord.     His  face  was  livid 
and  swollen  with  blows,  marked  and  disfigured  with  blood  ; 
but  the  unutterable  sweetness  of  the   Godhead  was  look 
ing  in  gentle  reproaches  through   those   pleading,   earn 
est  eyes,    and  the   unhappy  apostle   was  pierced    to    the 
heart.      He    hurried    away   from    the    throng,    and   wept 
and   sobbed  aloud  as  if  his  heart  would  break.     To  his 
dying  day  he  never  forgot  that  look  of  Jesus,  and  whenever 


288  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL: 

he  thought  of  that  reproachful  glance,  his  tears  began  to 
flow  anew. 

Even  now  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  present  in  the 
Blessed  Sacrament  upon  the  altar,  looks  forth  upon  all. 
He  looks  upon  the  good  and  innocent  with  a  quiet  joy. 
But  on  some  He  looks  with  fixed  and  anxious  gaze.  It  is 
that  young  man,  that  young  woman,  who  have  strayed  from 
the  path  of  innocence ;  or,  perhaps,  it  is  that  hoary-headed 
sinner  that  has  stayed  away  from  the  Sacraments  for  years. 
The  eye  of  Jesus  is  on  that  soul,  watching  to  see  if  he  will 
open  his  heart  and  return,  at  last,  to  His  fond  embrace. 
There  is  a  crowd  around  the  confessional.  Our  Blessed 
Saviour  sees  them  all.  But  there  is  one  among  them  that 
Jesus  looks  upon  with  more  than  a  mother's  compassion :  it 
is  that  poor  sinner  who  sits  there  bowed  down  with  the 
heavy  weight  of  his  sins.  Jesus  loves  to  see  the  good  and 
the  pious  go  to  confession  ;  but  He  is  even  more  pleased 
when  he  sees  a  poor  sinner,  who  has  been  away  for  years, 
kneeling  at  last  at  the  feet  of  the  priest. 

Perhaps  that  poor  sinner  is  in  doubt  whether  he  will  go 
to  confession  or  not.  He  is  trying  to  rouse  up  courage  and 
confidence  to  enter  the  confessional.  Perhaps  he  is  in  dan 
ger  of  making  his  confession  in  a  careless  manner,  without 
true  sorrow  and  firm  purpose  of  amendment.  Perhaps  he 
is  in  danger  of  concealing  some  sin,  or  unwilling  to  do 
what  the  priest  requires  of  him.  Fear  and  despair  are 
weighing  on  his  heart,  and  harrowing  his  conscience. 
With  him  this  confession  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death. 
Whilst  he  sits  or  kneels  there,  with  clouded  brow  and  sad 
dened  face,  he  feels  that  he  is  unworthy  to  be  among  those 
innocent  children  and  those  good,  fervent  people.  But 
there  is  an  eye  upon  him  watching  him  tenderly  and  sadly : 
it  is  the  eye  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Have  you  never  seen  how  the  surgeon  hurries  along  on 
the  battle-field  or  in  the  hospital  ?  He  passes  by  those  who 


MERCY.  289 

arc  but  slightly  hurt,  those  who  are  recovering.  At  last 
he  meets  with  one  who  is  dangerously  wounded  ;  at  once  he 
stops  and  bends  over  him  with  the  most  tender  anxiety.  It 
is  precisely  in  this  manner  that  our  dear  Saviour  acts.  He 
flies  first  to  that  poor  man,  whose  soul  is  covered  with  the 
deadly  wounds  of  sin.  He  tries  to  rouse  him  from  his  in 
sensibility  ;  He  tries  to  soften  his  heart,  to  encourage  him, 
and  raise  his  drooping  spirits.  At  last,  when  the  poor  sin 
ner  has  finished  his  confession,  and  obtained  the  absolution 
of  the  priest,  Jesus  Christ  presses  him  to  His  heart  with  un 
bounded  joy,  and  the  angels  of  Heaven  rejoice  with  Jesus 
over  this  poor  sinner  "even  more  than  over  ninety-nine 
just  that  need  not  penance." 

Take  courage,  then  ;  let  no  man  say  he  is  too  weak,  that 
his  passions  and  temptations  are  too  strong  to  be  resisted. 
God  Himself  will  assist  you  to  overcome  every  temptation, 
and  "with  God's  assistance  you  can  do  everything."  You 
will  find  that  as  soon  as  you  form  the  firm  resolution  to 
break  with  sin,  to  go  to  confession,  to  lead  a  good  life,  that 
very  instant  your  conscience  will  cease  to  torment  you,  and 
you  will  experience  a  peace  of  heart  which  surpasses  all  un 
derstanding.  But  you  will  say,  perhaps,  "  I  know  that 
God's  grace  is  all-pow  rful,  but  how  do  I  know  that  God 
will  give  me  this  grace  '"  Such  a  thought  is  in  itself  an 
offence  and  a  dishonor  to  God.  What  !  did  not  God  give 
His  grace  to  Mary  Magdalen,  who  was  so  long  the  slave  of 
sensual  passion  ?  Did  He  not  give  His  grace  to  David,  who 
was  guilty  of  the  horrid  crimes  of  murder  and  adultery  ? 
Did  not  God  give  his  grace  to  St.  Augustine,  who  was 
guilty  of  the  most  shameful  crimes,  and  even  of  heresy? 
Is  not  your  soul  of  as  much  value  as  the  soul  of  Mary  Mag 
dalen  ?  Did  not  our  Blessed  Lord  shed  his  heart's 
blood  for  you  as  well  as  for  her  ?  He  suffered  and  died  for 
each  one  of  us  as  well  as  He  suffered  for  them.  He  thought 
of  us  when  He  prayed  and  wept  in  the  garden  till  the  blood 


900  Tuna  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL: 

oozed  out  through  every  pore  of  His  body.  He  thought  of 
us  during  every  hour  of  His  bitter  passion.  He  thought  of 
us  and  prayed  for  us  as  He  hung  bleeding  and  dying  upon 
the  cross.  It  is  true  that  we  have  repaid  all  God's  favors 
with  Jie  blackest  ingratitude,  but  God  Himself  says :  "  I 
will  not  execute  the  fierceness  of  my  wrath,  because  I  am 
God  and  not  man. "  * 

The  conversion  of  King  Manasses  is  a  most  striking  pi  oof 
of  this  truth.  Manasses  was  twelve  years  old  when  his 
father  died.  He  succeeded  him  on  the  throne,  but  did  not 
succeed  to  his  piety  and  fear  of  the  Lord.  He  was  as  impious 
as  his  father  was  pious  towards  God  and  His  people.  He 
introduced  again  all  the  abominations  of  the  Gentiles,  which 
the  Lord  had  extirpated  from  among  the  children  of  Israel ; 
he  apostatized  from  the  Lord  ;  he  brought  in  again  and  en 
couraged  idolatry  ;  even  in  the  temple  of  the  Lord  he  erect 
ed  an  altar  to  Baal ;  he  introduced  into  the  temple  of  the 
true  God  such  abominations  as  were  never  heard  of  before, 
and  which  are  too  shameful  to  relate.  To  crown  his  im 
piety,  he  made  his  son  pass  through  fire  in  honor  of  Moloch  ; 
he  used  divination,  observed  omens,  and  multiplied  sooth 
sayers  to  do  evil  before  the  Lord,  and  to  provoke  Him. 
The  Lord  often  warned  him  through  His  prophets,  butln 
vain.  At  last  "  the  Lord  spoke  to  His  prophets,  saying : 
Because  Manasses,  king  of  Juda,  hath  done  these  wicked 
abominations,  beyond  all  that  the  Amorrhites  did  before 
him,  and  hath  made  Jnda  also  to  sin  with  his  filthy  doings, 
therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord  the  God  of  Israel  :  Behold,  I 
will  bring  evils  upon  Jerusalem  and  Juda,  that  whosoever 
shall  hear  of  them,  both  his  ears  shall  tingle.  I  will  strete^1 
over  Jerusalem  the  line  of  Samaria,  and  the  weight  of  the 
house  of  Achab,  and  I  will  efface  Jerusalem,  as  tables  are 
wont  to  bo  effaced  .  .  .  and  I  will  deliver  them  into  the 

*  Osee  xi,  0. 


GOD'S  MERCY.  291 

hands  of  their  enemies,  and  they  shall  become  a  prey  and 
a  spoil  to  all  their  enemies." 

Manasses,  instead  of  entering  into  himself,  added  cruelty 
to  idolatry.  He  shed  so  much  innocent  blood  that,  to  use 
the  words  of  Holy  Writ,  "  he  filled  Jerusalem  up  to  the 
mouth."  According  to  Josephus,  "  he  went  so  far  in 
his  contempt  for  God  as  to  kill  all  the  just  of  the  Children 
of  Israel,  not  sparing  even  the  prophets,  but  taking  away 
their  lives  day  by  day,  so  that  streams  of  blood  were  flowing 
through  the  streets  of  Jerusalem."  Now,  do  you  think  so 
impious  a  wretch  could  be  converted  ?  0  wonderful  pow 
er  of  prayer  !  So  great  is  thy  efficacy  with  God,  that  should 
a  man  be  ever  so  impious  and  perverse,  he  will  not  fail  to 
obtain  forgiveness  of  the  Lord  if  he  prays  for  it  with  a 
sincere  heart.  "  And  the  Lord"  says  Holy  Writ,  "brought 
upon  Jerusalem  the  captains  of  the  army  of  the  king  of  the 
Assyrians,  and  they  took  Manasses  and  carried  him,  bound 
witli  chains  and  fetters,  to  Babylon.  In  his  great  distress 
and  affliction  he  entered  into  himself,  and  he  prayed  to  the 
Lord  his  God,  and  did  penance  exceedingly  before  the  God 
of  his  fathers,  and  he  entreated  Him,  and  he  besought 
Him  earnestly;  and  the  Lord  heard  his  prayer,  and  brought 
him  again  to  Jerusalem  unto  his  kingdom."  From  that 
time  forward  he  endeavored  to  serve  the  Lord  the  more  fer 
vently  the  more  grievously  he  had  offended  Him.  He 
abolished  idolatry,  destroyed  the  temples,  altars,  groves  on 
the  high  places  put  up  in  honor  of  the  heathenish  deities, 
repaired  the  altar  of  Jehovah  in  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem, 
and  sacrificed  upon  it  victims  and  peace-offerings,  and  offer 
ings  of  praise,  and  he  commanded  Juda  to  serve  the  Lore. 
the  God  of  Israel. 

How  good,  how  merciful  the  Lord  is  !  How  His  ways  are 
above  the  ways  of  men  !  A  man  commits  a  murder,  and  is 
hanged  for  it.  He  may  be  very  sorry  for  his  crime  ;  never 
theless,  he  will  not  be  forgiven.  A  man  commits  the  moat 


292  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  : 

terrible  crimes  against  God  ;  he  is  sorry,  and  God  for 
gives  him,  and  receives  him  again  with  joy  into  His  fond 
embrace.  ' '  Therefore,  it  is  better  for  me, "  says  King  David, 
"to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Lord  (for  His  mercies  are 
many)  than  into  the  hands  of  man."  * 

You  say  there  is  no  hope  for  you  because  you  have  been 
too  great  a  sinner.  But  there  is  hope  precisely  because  you 
have  been  so  great  a  sinner.  Why  has  God  borne  so  pa 
tiently  with  you  during  the  many  years  that  you  have  been 
living  in  sin  ?  Why  did  God  not  strike  you  dead  when  you 
were  uttering  such  dreadful  curses  ?  Precisely  that  you  may 
return  at  last  to  His  arms  and  may  cease  to  offend  Him. 
God  wishes  to  save  you.  He  really  wishes  to  forgive  you,  no 
matter  how  enormous  your  sins  may  be.  If  He  did  not 
really  wish  this,  you  would  have  been  long  ago  burning  in 
hell.  "If  the  wicked  do  penance  for  all  his  sins  which  he 
hath  committed,  and  keep  all  my  commandments,  and  do 
judgment  and  justice,  living  he  shall  live,  and  shall  not  die. 
I  will  not  remember  all  his  iniquities  that  he  hath  done  :  in 
his  justice  which  he  hath  wrought,  he  shall  live.  Is  it  my 
will  that  a  sinner  should  die,  saith  the  Lord  God,  and  not 
that  he  should  be  converted  from  his  ways  and  live  ?  .  .  . 
When  the  wicked  turneth  away  from  his  wickedness  which 
he  hath  wrought,  and  doetli  judgment  and  justice,  he  shall 
save  his  soul  alive;  because  he  considereth  and  turneth 
away  himself  from  all  his  iniquities  which  he  has  wrought, 
he  shall  surely  live  and  not  die.  Therefore  will  I  judge 
every  man  according  to  his  ways.  0  house  of  Israel  !  saith 
the  Lord  God,  be  converted  and  do  penance  for  all  your  ini 
quities,  and  iniquity  shall  not  be  your  ruin.  Cast  away 
from  you  all  your  transgressions  by  which  you  have  trans 
gressed,  and  make  to  yourself  a  new  heart  and  a  new  spirit : 
and  why  will  you  die,  0  house  of  Israel  ?  For  I  desire  not 
the  death  of  him  that  dieth,  saith  the  Lord  God,  return  ye 
*  8  Kings  xxiv. 


G  OD'S  MER  or.  2  93 

and  live."  *     "  On  what  day  soever  the  wicked  man  shall 
turn  from  his  wickedness,  his  wickedness  shall  not  hurt  him. 
None  of  the  sins  which  he  hath  committed  shall  be  imputed 
co  him."     God  promises  to  forgive  every  sinner.     He  makes 
no  exception.     He  says  that  even  though  your  sins  were  as 
red  as  scarlet,  as  numerous  as  the  sand  on  the  sea-shore,  and 
as  black  as  ink,  you  shall  be  made  whiter  than  snow.     Men 
who  say  there  is  no  hope  for  them  because  their  sins  have 
been  too  great,  would  do  well  to  ponder  over  the  story  told 
in  the  Life  of  St.  Augustine.    This  great  bishop,  while  walk 
ing  on  the  sea-shore  one  day  thinking  about  the  greatness 
of  Almighty  God,  and  especially  of  the  greatness  of   His 
goodness  and  mercy,  saw  a  little  child  sitting  close  to  the 
sea.     The  child  had  a  small  spoon  in  its  hand,  and  was  dip 
ping  the  spoon  into  the  water.     St.  Augustine  went  to  him 
and  said  :  "  My  little  child,  why  are  you  dipping  that  spoon 
into  the  water  ? "     And  the  child  answered :  "  I  want  to 
empty  all  the  water  out  of  the  sea."     "  But,"  said  St.  Au 
gustine,  "it  is  of  no  use  for  you  to  try  to  empty  the  great 
sea  with  that  little  spoon.     If  you  were  to  try  for  ever,  you 
could  not  do  it."     The  child  then  said:  "I  am  an  angel 
from  heaven,  and  God  has  sent  me  to  tell  you  that  it  would 
be  easier  for  me  to  empty  the  sea  with  this  little  spoon,  than 
for  you  to  understand  all  the  greatness  of  God's  goodness 
and  mercy."     God's  mercy  is  an  ocean  which  has  no  depth, 
and  whose  bounds  we  cannot  behold.     Is  it  not  rashness  to 
attempt  to  drain  it  by  saying  there  is  no  hope  for  the  sin 
ner  ?    The  greatest  sin  that  can  be  committed  is  to  despair 
of  God's  mercy.     To  doubt  of  God's  mercy  is  to  deny  either 
His  infinite  power  or  His  infinite  goodness;  that  is,  to  be 
guilty  of  blasphemy.     To  doubt  of  God's  mercy  is  to  doubt 
of  the  Gospel  and  of  the  very  existence  of  God.     Read  the 
Holy  Scripture,  open   the  pages  of  history,  and  it  will  be 
found  that  no  sinner  ever  had  recourse   to  God  with  au 
*  Ezech.  xviii.  21-33,  27-32. 


294      THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  : 

humble  and  contrite  heart  who  did  not  obtain  the  pardon 
and  full  remission  of  all  his  sins.  If  God  did  not  really  in 
tend  to  forgive,  would  He  have  so  repeatedly  promised  to 
pardon?  God  commands  us,  under  pain  of  eternal  damnation, 
to  hope  in  His  mercy.  Would  He  do  this,  if  He  did  not 
intend  to  pardon  those  who  sought  forgiveness  ?  Would 
God  invite  all  to  come  to  Him  if  He  intended  to  cast  them 
off  ?  God  commands  us,  under  pain  of  eternal  damnation, 
to  forgive  our  enemies  as  often  as  they  offend  or  injure  us. 
Will  He  not,  then,  forgive  us,  His  creatures,  all  our  offences 
against  Him  ?  He  does  not  expect  us  to  be  more  merciful 
than  He  Himself  is.  God  even  condescends  to  beg  and  en 
treat  us  to  return  to  Him.  "  Turn  ye  to  me,  and  I  will 
turn  to  you."  He  desires  our  salvation  more  than  we  our 
selves  desire  it.  Like  a  good  father,  He  ever  entreats  us  to 
have  pity  on  our  poor  souls.*  What  more  can  even  God 
Himself  do  for  us  ?  He  swears  a  solemn  oath  that  He  will 
forgive :  "  I  swear  that  as  I  live  I  do  not  wish  the  death  of 
a  sinner,  but  that  he  be  converted  and  live." 

Father  Lireus  relates  the  following  story  :  A  certain  young 
nobleman  gave  himself  up  to  gambling.  In  one  afternoon 
he  lost  all  his  money,  and  contracted  a  great  debt  besides. 
Enraged  at  this  loss,  he  commenced  to  utter  the  most  fright 
ful  blasphemies.  "  Now,  0  Jesus  Christ ! "  said  he  blasphe 
mously,  "  I  am  done  with  Thee  ;  I  no  longer  care  for  Thee 
nor  for  Thy  threats  ;  Thou  canst  not  make  me  suffer  a 
greater  loss  than  I  have  sustained  to-day."  What  hap 
pened  ?  In  the  afternoon  of  that  very  day  he  met  with  an 
accident.  The  carriage  in  which  he  was  riding  home  was 
upset  and  he  broke  his  leg.  The  fracture  was  very  bad  and 
brought  on  a  dangerous  fever,  so  much  so,  that  the  physi 
cians  entertained  serious  doubts  about  his  recovery.  The 
young  man  now  understood  that  God  was  able  to  make  him 
undergo  a  still  greater  loss  than  that  of  his  money,  to  wit, 

*  Ecclus.  xxx.  24. 


GOD'S  MERCY.  296 

his  Health  and  even  his  life  probably.  But  instead  of  enter 
ing  into  himself  and  asking  God's  pardon,  this  great  sinner 
blasphemed  God  more  than  ever.  "  God,"  said  he,  "  Thou 
rejoicest  in  showing  how  it  is  in  Thy  power  to  punish  me 
still  more  severely.  Very  well,  show  me  now  that  Thou 
canst  inflict  on  me  the  greatest  punishment  possible.  And 
since,  after  the  loss  of  my  money,  health,  and  life,  there  is 
no  greater  misfortune  than  that  of  eternal  damnation,  show 
me  how  it  is  in  Thy  power  to  cast  me  into  hell.  If  I  were 
Thy  God  " — horrible  to  relate,  horrible  to  hear — "if  I  were 
Thy  God,  I  would  do  this  to  Thee  also  ! "  0  most  horrible 
blasphemy  !  Why  was  it  that  hell  did  not  open  that  very 
instant  to  devour  so  execrable  a  blasphemer  ?  But  God  is 
merciful.  As  the  impious  young  man  in  his  despair  and 
rage  refused  to  listen  to  any  good  advice,  God  inspired  His 
servant  to  enter  his  room  and  whisper  into  his  ear  the  fol 
lowing  words:  "My  lord,  there  is  a  good  -friend  of  yours 
here  who  wishes  to  take  leave  of  you."  "Who  is  it?" 
asked  the  dying  sinner  ;  "  let  him  come  in."  At  these  words 
the  good  servant  showed  him  a  crucifix,  saying  :  "  Behold, 
my  lord,  this  is  your  best  friend,  who  wishes  to  say  a  word  to 
you."  At  that  very  moment  the  grace  of  God  touched  the 
heart  of  the  blasphemer,  and  enlightened  him  to  see  his 
miserable  state.  He  raised  his  eyes  and  fixed  them  on  the 
crucifix.  The  eyes  of  the  crucifix  seemed  to  become  alive, 
and  to  cast  looks  of  mercy  upon  the  dying  man,  and  he 
beard  a  voice  coming  forth  from  the  crucifix  saying  unto 
him  :  "My  child,  I  will  show  you  that  it  is  in  my  power  to 
do  to  you  what  is  best  and  not  what  is  worst.  Had  I 
wished  to  cast  you  into  hell,  I  could  have  done  so  long 
ago.  But  no,  my  child,  I  will  do  to  you  not  what  is 
worst,  but  what  is  best.  You  say  that  were  you  my  God, 
you  would  cast  me  into  hell  for  ever.  Now,  I  am  your 
God — well,  I  will  make  you  happy  with  me  in  Heaven  for  all 
eternity,  although  you  have  not  deserved  such  a  mercy."  At 


896  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  : 

this  voice  of  mercy  the  dying  sinner  took  the  crucifix  into 
his  hands,  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  and  shed  a  torrent  of  tears  ;, 
he  made  a  general  confession  with  such  contrition  of  heart 
that  even  his  confessor  could  not  help  weeping.  After 
having  received  the  last  Sacraments,  he  continued  to  shed 
bitter  tears  of  sorrow  and  true  love  for  God,  and  soon  after 
died  in  this  happy  state. 

How  true  are  those  words  that  the  Lord  spoke  one  day  to 
Blessed  Henry  Suso.  "Imagine,"  said  He  to  His  great 
servant,  "  that  the  whole  world  was  on  fire,  and  then  see 
how  quickly  a  handful  of  straw  cast  into  it  is  consumed. 
But  I  forgive  a  repentant  sinner  a  thousand  times  quicker 
than  a  handful  of  straw  can  be  burned  up  in  the  largest 
fire."  "Ah,  yes!"  exclaims  the  holy  Cure  of  Ars,  "all 
the  sins  ever  committed  are  but  a  grain  of  sand  beside  a 
huge  mountain  if  compared  with  the  mercy  of  God."  Hence 
the  Lord  wishes  every  priest  to  tell  poor  sinners  what  He 
one  day  commanded  His  prophet  to  tell  them  for  their  en 
couragement,  namely,  "  Say  to  the  faint-hearted,  take  cou 
rage,  and  fear  not.  If  the  wicked  man  shall  do  penance  of 
all  his  sins,  I  will  no  longer  remember  his  iniquities  which 
he  hath  wrought.  Why  will  ye  die  ?  Return  ye  and  live. 
My  children,  why  will  you  destroy  yourselves,  and  of  your 
own  free  will  condemn  yourselves  to  everlasting  death  ! 
Return  to  me,  and  you  shall  live." 

Have  you  forgotten  that  I  am  that  Good  Shepherd  who 
goes  about  seeking  the  lost  sheep,  and,  on  finding  it,  makes 
a  festival,  saying  :  "  Rejoice  with  me  because  I  have  found 
my  sheep  that  was  lost"  ?*  And  He  lays  it  upon  His 
shoulders  rejoicing,  and  thus  carefully  keeps  possession  of 
it  in  His  fond  embraces,  for  fear  He  should  lose  it  again. 

Have  you  forgotten  that  I  am  that  loving  Father  who, 
whenever  a  prodigal  son  that  has  left  Him  returns  to  His 
feet,  does  not  thrust  him  away,  but  embraces  him,  and  as 
*  Luke  xy.  6. 


Qorfs  MEROY.  397 

it  were  faints  away  for  the  consolation  and  fondness  which 
He  feels  in  beholding  his  repentance. 

With  what  tenderness  did  I,  the  moment  she  repented, 
forgive  Magdalen,  and  change  her  into  a  saint  !  With  what 
kindness  did  I  forgive  the  paralytic,  and  at  the  same  mo 
ment  restore  him  to  bodily  health  ! 

And  with  what  sweet  gentleness,  above  all,  did  I  treat 
the  woman  taken  in  adultery  !  The  priests  brought  that 
sinner  before  me,  that  I  might  condemn  her  ;  but  I,  turn 
ing  towards  her,  said :  "  Hath  no  man  condemned  thee  ? 
Neither  will  I  condemn  thee  ;  I  who  came  to  save  sinners. 
Go  in  peace,  and  sin  no  more."  It  was  out  of  compassion  for 
sinners  that  I  have  been  pleased  to  be  bound  in  swaddling- 
clothes,  that  they  might  be  released  from  the  chains  of  hell ; 
that  I  have  become  poor,  in  order  that  they  might  be  made 
partakers  of  my  riches ;  that  I  have  made  myself  weak,  to 
give  them  power  over  their  enemies  ;  that  I  have  chosen  to 
weep  and  shed  my  blood,  in  order  that  by  my  tears  and 
blood  their  sins  might  be  washed  away."  It  is  thus  that 
the  Lamb  of  God,  the  Saviour  of  the  World,  speaks  to  en 
courage  every  poor  sinner  to  return  to  His  friendship. 

But  the  sinner  may  say,  "  How  can  Almighty  God  ever 
again  look  upon  me  with  kind  eyes  after  I  have  offended 
Him  so  many  times  in  the  most  atrocious  manner  ?  Indeed, 
I  have  rendered  myself  undeserving  of  such  a  grace."  So 
spake  the  prodigal  son  in  the  Gospel:  "Father,  I  have 
sinned  against  Heaven  and  before  thee.  I  am  not  now 
worthy  to  be  called  thy  son.  Make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired 
servants."  *  It  is  quite  natural  for  a  poor  sinner  to  think 
and  to  speak  thus.  But  it  is  still  far  more  natural  for  God 
to  rejoice  in  the  sinner's  conversion.  It  is  true,  we  have  not 
behaved  towards  Him  as  good  sons,  yet  notwithstanding 
that,  our  Heavenly  Father  has  not  lost  His  fatherly  affec 
tion  for  us.  Let  us  return  to  Him  in  confidence,  call  Him 
*  Lake  xv.  19. 


298  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  : 

by  the  endearing  name  of  Father,  and  His  heart  will  be 
touched  with  the  greatest  compassion  for  us ;  it  will  plead 
in  our  favor  far  more  powerfully  than  we  ourselves,  or  even 
the  saints  in  Heaven,  can  plead.  The  reproach  that  He  will 
make  is  to  give  us  the  kiss  of  peace.  As  to  our  past  offences, 
He  will,  as  Holy  Writ  assures  us,  cast  them  behind  His 
back,  thus  giving  us  to  understand  that  He  will  never  look 
at  them  again,  that  He  will  forget  them,  and  never  make 
them  the  cause  of  the  least  reproach.  "I  will  bring 
them  back  again/*'  says  the  Lord,  "  because  I  will  have 
mercy  on  them,  and  they  shall  be  as  they  were  when  I 
had  not  as  yet  cast  them  off.  And  their  heart  shall  rejoice 
as  through  wine,  and  their  children  shall  see,  and  shall  re 
joice,  and  their  heart  shall  be  joyful  in  the  Lord."  *.  In 
Holy  Scripture  we  read  of  the  conversion  of  many  sinners. 
But  never  do  we  read  of  a  reproach  made  by  God  to  a  sin 
ner  after  his  conversion.  Magdalen  was  a  public  prostitute  ; 
Matthew  a  great  usurer  ;  Zaccheus  a  notorious  sinner  ;  Peter 
denied  his  divine  Lord  and  Master ;  Thomas  was  for  some 
time  quite  obstinate  in  his  unbelief.  Yet,  after  their  conver 
sion,  Jesus  Christ  never  reproached  any  one  of  them  with 
a  fault  of  their  life  past. 

When  our  dear  Saviour  reproached  Jerusalem  with  its 
faithlessness  and  obstinacy,  He  said:  "Jerusalem,  Jerusa 
lem,  that  killest  the  prophets,  and  stonest  them  that  are 
sent  to  thee."  f  Why  did  He  not  say,  "  Jerusalem,  Jerusa 
lem,  that  hast  killed  the  prophets,"  as  had  happened  there 
so  many  times  ?  For  the  reason  just  given— as  God  no  longer 
remembers  past  offences  which  have  been  once  forgiven,  so 
He  never  makes  any  of  them  the  subject  of  reproach. 

After  even  the  best  of  men  have  forgiven  an  insult,  they 
cannot  help  experiencing  now  and  then  a  certain  feeling  of 
aversion  and  dislike  for  those  by  whom  they  have  been  offend 
ed.     But  such  is  not  the  case  with  Almighty  God.     On  the 
*  Zach.  x.  6»  7. 


GOD'S  MERCY.  299 

contrary,  our  Heavenly  Father  rejoices  so  much  the  more,  the 
greater  the  sinner  is  who  is  converted  and  returns  to  His 
embrace. 

How  great  is  the  joy  which  holy  and  zealous  priests  ex- 
perience  in  the  conversion  of  sinners  !  St.  Francis  Xavier, 
St.  Bernardino  of  Sienna,  St.  Vincent  Ferrer,  St.  Francis  de 
Sales,  and  St.  Alphonsus  called  the  confessional  their  paradise, 
on  account  of  the  joy  which  they  experienced  in  reconciling 
truly  penitent  sinners  to  God.  St.  Ignatius  of  Loyola  re 
quired  the  missionaries  of  his  Society  to  let  him  know  every 
month  how  many  sinners  they  had  converted,  how  many 
confessions  they  had  heard,  and  how  many  heretics  and  iv 
iidels  they  had  received  into  the  Church.  He  read  th« 
letters  containing  these  good  tidings  with  the  greatest  joy. 
His  joy  at  the  conversion  of  sinners  was  often  so  great  that 
it  prevented  him  from  sleeping  at  night. 

At  the  close  of  a  mission  in  which  St.  Francis  de  Sales 
had  spent  day  and  night  hearing  confessions,  he  wrote  to  St. 
Jane  Frances  de  Chantal  as  follows  :  "  These  have  been 
golden  days  for  me.  Oh  !  what  joy  I  feel  at  the  conversion 
of  so  many  souls  !  I  have  been  reaping  in  smiles  and  tean 
of  love  amongst  my  dear  penitents.  0  Saviour  of  my  soul  ! 
what  a  joy  was  mine  to  see  among  others  a  young  man  of 
twenty,  brave  and  stout  as  a  giant,  return  to  the  Catholic 
faith,  and  confess  his  sins  in  so  holy  a  manner  that  it  was 
easy  to  recognize  the  wonderful  workings  of  Divine  grace 
leading  him  back  to  the  way  of  salvation.  I  was  quite  be 
side  myself  with  joy,  and  gave  him  many  a  kiss  of  peace. >; 
Kow,  if  holy  priests  experience  such  joy  at  the  conversion 
of  sinners,  how  much  greater  must  the  joy  of  Jesus  Christ 
be  at  their  return  to  His  friendship,  since  He  is  their  Chief 
Pastor,  who  purchased  them  at  the  price  of  His  precious 
blood  ! 

Let  us  not,  then,  be  afraid  of  Jesus  Christ,  but  be  afraid 
rather  of  our  own  obstinacy,  if,  after  having  offended  Him, 


800  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL: 

we  will  not  listen  to  His  voice,  which  invites  us  to  reconcili 
ation.  "  Who  is  it  that  shall  condemn  ?  "  says  the  apos 
tle.  "  Christ  Jesus  who  died,  who  also  maketh  interces 
sion  for  us."  *  If  we  persist  in  our  obstinacy,  Jesus  Christ 
will  be  constrained  to  condemn  us,  but  if  we  repent  of  the 
evil  we  have  done,  what  fear  need  we  have  of  Jesus  Christ  ? 

v  Who  has  to  pronounce  sentence  on  us  ?    Think,  says  St. 

'Paul,  that  the  self-same  Redeemer  has  to  sentence  thee 
who  died  just  in  order  that  He  might  not  condemn  thee, 
that  self-same  One  who,  that  He  might  pardon  thee,  has  not 
spared  Himself. 

And  we  may  know,  further,  that,  should  we  love  Him,  our 
past  sins  will  not  stand  in  the  way  of  our  receiving  from  God 
those  specially  great  and  choice  graces  which  he  is  wont  to 
bestow  on  his  most  beloved  souls;  for  our  Heavenly  Father 
does  not  only  rejoice  so  much  the  more,  the  greater  the 
sinner  is  who  returns  to  His  grace  and  friendship,  but  lie  is 
wont  also  to  take  particular  care  of  him  in  order  not  to 
lose  him  again.  Hence  He  gives  him  many  efficacious 
graces  to  overcome  his  temptations  and  passions.  He  re 
minds  him  from  time  to  time  of  his  former  sins,  in  order 
that  they  may  serve  as  so  many  tongues  to  tell  him  con 
stantly  to  love  his  God  and  Father  so  much  the  more,  the 
more  he  has  sinned.  Thus  it  often  happens  that  those 
who  for  some  time  were  great  sinners,  after  their  con  ver 
sion  serve  God  more  faithfully  and  love  Him  more  ardently 
than  many  of  those  who  never  lost  their  baptismal  in 
nocence. 

"  There  is  no  respect  of  persons  with  God,"  says  St. 
Paul.f  The  Lord  distributes  His  graces  to  truly  repentant 
sinners  as  well  as  to  innocent  souls.  Elias  was  a  holy  pro 
phet  of  the  Lord.  At  his  command  the  clouds  rained,  and 
at  his  bidding  they  ceased  to  rain.  But  Jacob,  the  hermit, 
enjoyed  the  same  power  after  his  conversion  from  a  very 
•  Rom.  viii.  SI  t  Col.  iii.  35. 


GOD'S  MERCY.  301 

sinful  life.  Innocent  Daniel  was  thrown  into  a  den  of  lions, 
but  those  wild  animals  respected  the  servant  of  God.  A 
similar  respect  was  shown  by  wild  animals  to  St.  William 
of  Aquitania,  although  he  had  for  some  time  been  a  great 
persecutor  of  the  Church.  We  read  that  St.  John— that 
most  innocent  apostle — was  cast  into  a  caldron  of  boiling  oil 
without  suffering  hurt.  And  we  read  the  same  of  St.  Boni 
face,  who  was  but  a  sincerely  penitent  sinner.  It  is  related 
in  the  Lives  of  the  Saints  that  St.  Raimond,  who  always 
led  an  innocent  life,  walked  dry-shod  over  the  water.  St. 
Mary  of  Egypt,  who  led  a  very  sinful  life  for  seventeen  years, 
did  the  same  many  times  after  her  conversion.  She  spent 
several  years  without  taking  any  corporal  food,  just  as  if 
she  had  been  .another  innocent  Catherine  of  Sienna.  Thus, 
God  grants  the  same  favors  to  holy  penitents  as  to  innocent 
souls,  and  thereby  fulfils  the  promise  made  by  Him  through 
the  prophet  Ezechiel  :  "  The  wickedness  of  the  wicked  shall 
not  hurt  him  in  what  day  soever  he  shall  turn  from  his 
wickedness."  * 

But  not  only  do  holy  penitents  receive  the  same  favors  as 
innocent  saints,  many  of  them  even  seem  to  be  more  highly 
favored  by  God.  Which  of  the  apostles  was  made  Head  of 
the  Church  ?  Was  it  St.  John  or  St.  James,  whose  lives 
were  always  blameless  ?  Not  so  ;  it  was  St.  Peter,  who 
denied  his  divine  Master  three  times.  And  did  not  St. 
Paul,  who  persecuted  the  Christians  with  implacable  hatred, 
become  a  vessel  of  election  to  preach  the  Gospel  among  the 
Gentiles?  The  innocent  apostle  St.  John  alwaysr  emained 
faithful  to  our  Lord,  and  stood  beneath  His  cross  at  Mount 
Calvary.  Yet  it  was  not  to  him  that  our  dear  Saviour  ap 
peared  first  after  His  resurrection,  but  to  St.  Peter,  His  sin 
ful  apostle.  It  was  not  Martha  but  Magdalen,  the  penitent, 
that  sat  at  the  feet  of  our  Lord  and  listened  to  his  sacred 
doctrine  ;  and  it  was  she,  too,  to  whom  our  Lord  first  ap- 
*  Ezech.  xxxiii.  13. 


302  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL. 

pcared  after  His  resurrection.  IIow  great  are  the  graces  and 
privileges  which  our  Lord  afterwards  granted  to  so  many  holy 
penitents  !  To  St.  Augustine,  for  instance  ;  to  St.  Marga 
ret  of  Cortona.  To  this  last  saint,  in  particular,  who  had 
formerly  spent  several  years  in  sin,  God  revealed  the  place 
prepared  for  her  in  Heaven  amongst  the  seraphim ;  and  even 
during  her  life  He  showed  her  many  signal  favors,  inso 
much  that,  beholding  herself  so  highly  favored,  she  one  day 
said  to  God  :  "  0  Lord,  how  is  it  that  Thou  lavishest  so 
many  graces  on  me  ?  Hast  Thou,  then,  forgotten  the  sins 
I  have  committed  against  Thee?"  "And  have  you  for 
gotten,"  our  Lord  answered,  "  what  I  have  told  you,  that 
when  a  soul  repents  of  her  faults  I  no  longer  remember  the 
outrages  of  which  she  has  been  guilty  towards  me?" 
During  a  certain  period  of  her  life  our  Lord  called  her  by 
the  name  poverella  (poor  little  one).  But  this  name  became 
at  last  wearisome  to  her.  So,  full  of  confidence  in  the  good 
ness  of  our  Divine  Saviour,  she  one  day  asked  Him  frankly, 
"  And  when,  0  Lord,  shall  I  hear  myself  called  Thy 
daughter  ?  "  Our  dear  Lord  replied  that  she  was  not  as  yet 
worthy  of  being  called  by  that  sweet  name,  as  she  was  still 
a  child  of  sin,  but  that  she  should  make  a  good  general  con 
fession  of  her  sins.  These  unexpected  words  were  a  thun 
derbolt  to  Margaret's  heart.  Bursting  forth  into  most 
bitter  tears,  she  turned  suppliant  to  her  beloved  father  St. 
Francis,  to  her  beloved  protectress  St.  Mary  Magdalen, 
begging  them  to  obtain  for  her  a  clearer  knowledge  of  and 
a  more  intense  sorrow  for  her  faults,  so  that  she  might  be 
entirely  cleansed  from  the  least  remnant  of  sin.  She  was 
heard  to  such  an  extent  that  in  her  general  confession  she 
spent  a  whole  week  exposing  every  circumstance  of  her  dis 
orderly  life,  with  such  a  deep  sorrow  that  it  would  be  dim 
cult  to  show  a  Peter  more  full  of  compunction,  a  Magdalen 
more  full  of  grief.  After  she  had  finished  her  general  con 
fession,  she  was  permitted  to  receive  Holy  Communion.  No 


MERCY.  303 

sooner  had  she  received  our  Lord  than  she  heard  Him  say  to 
her,,  "  My  daughter  !  "  At  the  sound  of  this  sweet  name 
she  fell  into  an  ecstasy  of  inward  joy.  Having  recovered  a 
little,  she  exclaimed  :  "0  supreme  sweetness  and  goodness 
of  our  dear  Lord  !  0  happy  day  for  me,  promised  by  my 
Jesus  !  0  word  full  of  consolation,  that  Thou  hast  deigned 
to  call  me  daughter  ! "  Thus  is  verified  what  Holy  Scripture 
says :  "All  things  work  together  unto  good,"*  even  sins,  as 
the  gloss  subjoins. 

But  will  not  innocent  souls  murmur  at  this  love  and 
mercy  of  God  for  sinners  ?  Will  they  not  speak  as  the 
faithful  son  in  the  Gospel :  "  As  soon  as  this  thy  son  is 
come,  who  hath  devoured  his  substance  with  harlots,  thou 
hast  killed  for  him  the  fatted  calf  "  ?f  Oh  !  no,  holy  innocent 
souls  !  Show  yourselves  content  with  all  this.  Remember 
that  you,  too,  are  weak  creatures,  and  rejoice  in  the  graces 
and  favors  which  Jesus  Christ  confers  on  all  those  who  went 
far  astray  from  Him  for  some  time,  but  afterwards  left  their 
evil  ways  and  returned  to  the  Good  Shepherd.  Persevere  in 
your  piety,  and  your  reward  is  most  certain.  "  My  son,  thou 
art  always  with  me,  and  all  I  have  is  thine." 

But  do  you,  wretched  sinners  who  have  hitherto  been 
prevented  from  returning  to  the  Lord  by  the  consideration 
of  the  great  number  and  hideousness  of  your  sins,  hearken 
to  the  words  of  the  wise  man:  "Think  well  of  the  Lord. 
Think  of  the  Lord  in  goodness,  and  seek  Him  in  simplicity 
of  heart."  J  Think  of  the  Lord  in  a  manner  worthy  of  His 
goodness  and  exceedingly  great  mercy.  Should  you  have 
committed  all  the  sins  that  ever  were  committed,  should 
you  have  stayed  from  confession  for  how  long  soever,  let 
all  this  be  no  reason  for  you  to  stay  away  any  longer.  God 
is  ever  ready  to  receive  you  with  open  arms,  to  embrace  you 
as  His  dearly  beloved  children,  with  so  much  the  more  joy 
and  gladness  the  further  you  have  strayed  away  from  Him. 
*  Kom.  viii.  28.  +  Luke  xv.  30.  Wisdom  i.  1. 


304  THE  FATHER  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  : 

"  Fear  not,"  said  He  one  day  to  St.  Margaret  of  Cortona— 
"  fear  not  to  obtain  the  full  remission  of  all  thy  sins. 
Thou  wilt  infallibly  obtain  it,  and  thou  shalt  inflame  others 
colder  and  more  coy.  I  have  destined  thee  as  an  example  to 
all  poor  sinners,  in  order  that  they  may  clearly  understand 
that  I  am  that  compassionate  Father  who  welcomes  back  His 
most  rebellious  and  most  contumacious  children,  and  that, 
if  they  ask  my  pardon  and  prepare  to  receive  my  grace, 
1  they  will  ever  find  me  ready  to  give  it  just  as  quickly  as  I 
have  turned  to  thee." 

From  the  moment  of  your  repentance,  all  the  disorders,  all 
the  crimes,  of  your  life,  no  matter  how  black,  how  hideous 
they  may  be,  will  be  drowned,  as  it  were,  in  the  ocean  of 
God's  mercy,  and  disappear  as  the  darkest  night  disappears  at 
the  rising  of  the  sun.  "  As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west," 
says  the  Lord,  "  so  far  I  will  put  away  from  me  all  your 
iniquities.  * 

How  mean,  how  cruel,  is  that  sinner,  both  toward  God  and 
himself,  who  will  not  return  to  God  merely  because  God 
wishes,  as  it  were,  to  force  His  mercy  upon  him  !  What  black 
ingratitude  to  reject  the  mercy  of  God,  and  to  continue  to  re 
turn  evil  for  good  !  Having  heard  the  merciful  voice  of  the 
Lord,  do  no  longer  harden  your  heart  against  it.  Say  in  all 
sincerity  :  Yes,  0  merciful  Lord  !  it  is  Thy  word,  Thy  infalli 
ble  promise,  Thy  love,  Thy  mercy,  that  I  hear.  Can  I  delay 
to  turn  to  Thee  with  a  full  and  sweet  confidence,  and  beg 
Thee  to  hear,  at  my  return,  the  sighs  and  groans  of  my 
sorrow,  the  humble  and  sincere  protestation  of  my  reciprocal 
love  ?  Since  Thou  deignest  to  be  so  merciful  to  me,  oh!  come 
and  take  possession  of  my  heart  as  Thou  didst  of  the  heart 
of  the  Apostle  St.  Peter  after  his  lamentable  fall.  Come 
and  enable  me,  with  him,  to  say  with  as  much  truth,  "  Lord, 
Thou  knowest  all  things:  thou  knowest  that  I  love 
Thee."  f 

*  Psalm  cii.  la.  +  John  zxt  IT. 


GOD'S  MERCY.  305 

But  as  to  you,  0  holy,  penitent  Christians  who  have  for 
gome  time  so  grievously  offended  Almighty  God,  but  who 
have  been  again  received  in  His  fond  embraces,  never  forget 
this  goodness  of  your  Heavenly  Father  in  your  regard — He 
who  loves  you  as  if  you  had  always  led  a  most  innocent 
life,  as  if  you  always  remained  as  pure  as  when  you  came 
forth  from  the  sacred  laver  of  baptism.  Never  forget  what 
you  owe  to  such  a  good  God,  to  such  a  merciful  Father. 
What  wonder  that  Magdalen  shed  most  bitter  tears  for 
thirty  years  after  her  conversion,  although  she  had  been  as 
sured  by  Jesus  Himself  that  her  sins  were  forgiven  ?  What 
wonder  that  St.  Peter  constantly  wept  over  the  offences  he 
had  offered  to  his  divine  Master,  although  Jesus  Christ 
Himself  had  granted  him  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins  ?  Alas  ! 
if  we  consider  that  Almighty  God,  who  stands  in  need  of 
no  one,  who  in  a  moment  could  destroy  the  whole  world, 
has  taken  no  other  revenge  on  poor,  penitent  sinners  than 
favoring  them,  we  feel  constrained  to  love  Him  every  day 
more  and  more  ardently.  0  dear  Saviour  !  0  merciful 
Jesus  !  I  too  am  quite  grateful,  and  know  but  too  well 
how  good,  how  merciful  Thou  hast  been  to  me,  the  most 
wretched  of  sinners.  It  is  therefore  my  firm  resolution  to 
love  Thee  always,  and  to  praise  Thy  mercy  in  time  and  fc* 
eternity. 


CHAPTER  XVL 
THE  PRODIGAL'S  PRAYER — PRAYER  THE  KEY  TO  GOD'S 

MERCY. 

ONE  day  St.  Anselm  met  a  boy  playing  with  a  bird.  The 
poor  bird  tried  to  fly  away,  but  it  could  not,  as  the  boy 
held  it  by  a  thread  which  he  had  tied  to  its  leg.  The  little 
bird  tried  to  fly  away  again  and  again,  but  the  boy  always 
pulled  it  back,  and  laughed  and  leaped  for  joy  as  he  saw  it 
flutter  and  fall  upon  the  ground.  St.  Anselm  stood  gazing 
for  a  considerable  time  at  this  strange  sport,  and  showed  the 
greatest  compassion  for  the  poor  little  bird.  Suddenly  the 
thread  broke  and  the  little  bird  flew  away.  The  boy  began 
to  cry,  but  St.  Anselm  expressed  the  greatest  joy.  All  pre 
sent  were  astonished  to  see  so  great  a  prelate  take  such  in 
terest  in  this  childish  sport.  But  St.  Anselm  said:  "Do 
you  know  what  I  thought  of  on  seeing  this  boy  amuse  him 
self  thus  with  the  bird  ?  Ah  !  it  is  thus,  thought  I,  that 
the  devil  makes  sport  of  sinners.  He  ties  them  at  first,  as 
it  were,  with  a  slender  thread,  and  then  sports  with  them  as 
he  pleases,  drawing  them  from  one  sin  into  another."  Some 
he  ties  by  indifference  to  God  and  to  their  own  salvation, 
others  by  too  great  love  for  the  goods  of  this  world;  some, 
again,  he  ties  by  the  sin  of  avarice,  others  by  the  sin  of  un- 
cleanness,  others  by  the  sin  of  theft.  Many  a  one  of  the 
unfortunate  sinners,  seeing  his  great  misery,  will  cry  out  like 
St.  Augustine:  "  How  long,  0  Lord  !  Wilt  Thou  be  angry 
for  ever?  Remember  not  my  past  iniquities."  And  per 
ceiving  himself  still  held  back  by  them,  he  cast  forth  miser 
able  complaints,  and  reproached  himself,  saying  :  "  How 

806 


THE  PR ODIGAL'S  PRA  YER.  307 

long  ?  how  long  ?  To-morrow  !  to-morrow  !  Why  not, 
now  ?  Why  does  not  this  hour  put  an  end  to  my  filthi- 
ness?"  These  complaints  he  uttered,  and  he  wept  with 
most  bitter  contrition  of  heart,  not  feeling  courage  enough 
to  renounce  his  evil  ways. 

"  Oh  !  would  to  God,"  cries  many  a  sinner,  "that  I  were 
freed  from  this  accursed  habit  of  drinking,  of  swearing,  of 
sinning  against  the  angelic  virtue  of  holy  purity  !  What  am 
I  to  do  ?  "  Like  the  little  bird,  this  poor  sinner  wishes  to 
get  free  from  his  sinful  habits,  but  in  vain.  The  devil 
keeps  him  tied,  and  drags  him  back  into  his  old  sins.  At 
last  the  unhappy  wretch,  seeing  that  he  cannot  get  free, 
gives  way  to  despair. 

The  poor  sinner,  deprived  of  God's  grace,  is  like  a  child 
that  is  helpless  and  abandoned.  He  is  unable,  of  his  own 
strength,  to  rise  from  a  state  of  sin  and  recover  the  friend 
ship  of  God.  "If  any  one,"  says  the  Council  of  Trent, 
"  asserts  that  without  the  preceding  inspiration  and  grace 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  man  can  believe,  hope,  love,  or  repent  in 
such  a  manner  as  he  ought,  let  him  be  anathema. "  Consider 
well  the  word:  "  Repent  in  such  a  manner  as  he  ought." 
Judas  repented,  for  Holy  Scripture  says  of  him:  "Then 
Judas,  who  betrayed  Jesus,  seeing  that  He  was  condemned, 
repenting  himself,  brought  back  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver 
to  the  chief  priests  and  ancients,  saying :  I  have  sinned  in 
betraying  innocent  blood."  *  But  this  was  not  such  repent 
ance  as  is  required  for  justification ;  it  proceeded  only  from 
natural  motives,  and  consequently  ended  in  despair. 
"And  Judas,"  as  Holy  Scripture  says,  "went  and  hanged 
himself  with  a  halter." 

We  may,  indeed,  fall  into  sin  without  any  assistance  ;  but 

rise  from  it  we  cannot,  except  by  the  special  assistance  of  God. 

I  can  pluck  out  my  eyes,  but  to  set  them  in  again  properly 

is  beyond  my  power.     I  can  likewise  lose  the  grace  of  God, 

*  Matt.  xxii.  3. 


308  THE  PRODIGAL'S  PRA  YER  : 

but  to  recover  it  again  without  God's  assistance  is  more  than 
I  can  do.  St.  Peter  remained  chained  in  prison  until  an 
angel  came  and  said  to  him,  "  Arise,"  and  the  chains  fell 
from  his  hands.*  Had  St.  Peter  not  been  awakened  by  the 
angel,  he  would  not  have  thought  of  rising  ;  and  had  he 
thought  of  it,  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  free  himself 
from  his  fetters.  In  like  manner,  the  soul  which  has  once 
been  chained  by  sin  will  scarcely  ever  think  seriously  of 
being  converted  and  returning  to  God.  Should  it  even 
think  of  this,  all  its  efforts  will  not  suffice  to  break  the 
chains  of  sin  and  free  it  from  the  slavery  of  the  devil,  if 
God's  grace  does  not  come  to  its  aid. 

God  alone  can  change  the  sinner's  heart.  "The  heart 
of  man,"  says  Holy  Writ,  "is  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord  ;  He 
turns  it  whithersoever  He  wills."  God  can  in  one  moment 
enlighten  the  sinner  so  that  he  understands  the  misery  and 
danger  of  his  state.  The  Lord  can  so  move  his  will  that 
he  makes  a  firm  resolution  to  amend.  He  can  in  one  mo 
ment  inspire  the  heart  of  the  sinner  with  so  much  confi 
dence  in  His  mercy  that  he  firmly  hopes  for  the  forgive 
ness  of  all  his  sins.  Now,  it  is  this  unspeakably  great  grace 
that  the  sinner  surely  obtains  if  he  prays  for  it.  The  pro 
digal  prays  :  "  Father,  I  have  sinned  ;  I  am  not  worthy  to 
be  called  thy  son  ;  make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants." 
His  father's  heart  was  touched  by  this  prayer  ;  he  is  for 
given  and  received  back  with  joy.  Let  all  sinners  pray  in 
like  manner  to  their  Heavenly  Father,  and  let  them  rest  as 
sured  that  fire  does  not  burn  tow  more  quickly  than  God 
enlightens  and  forgives  sinners  when  they  ask  His  light  and 
forgiveness.  The  woman  of  Cana  had  no  sooner  said 
"  Lord,  help  me  ! "  than  she  was  heard,  and  received  the 
grace  of  conversion.  The  Samaritan  woman,  too,  received 
the  grace  of  conversion  as  soon  as  she  asked  our  Lord  for 
the  living  water  of  which  He  had  spoken  to  her.  No 
*  Acts  xii.  7. 


PRATER  THE  KEY  TO  GOD'S  MERCY.  309 

sooner  had  the  publican  prayed  in  the  Temple,  "  Lord,  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !  "  than  he  was  instantly  forgiven, 
and  left  the  Temple  justified.  No  sooner  had  the  thief  on 
ihe  cross  said  to  our  Saviour.  "Lord,  remember  me  when 
Thou  comest  into  Thy  kingdom  ! "  than  he  was  forgiven, 
and  even  received  the  promise  that  he  would  be  with  Him 
vhat  day  in  Paradise. 

There  is  one  who  is  as  yet  groping  in  the  darkness  of  unbe 
lief  and  error  ;  he  is  far  away  from  God,  from  the  true 
religion,  from  the  means  of  salvation.  Now,  if  he  prays  to 
God  for  salvation,  his  prayer  will  be  heard. 

Chlodwig  (Clovis),  heathen  king  of  the  Franks,  when, 
with  his  whole  army,  in  imminent  danger  of  being  defeated 
by  the  Alemanni,  prayed  as  follows  : 

"Jesus  Christ,  Thou  of  whom  Chlotilde  (the  king's 
Christian  wife)  has  often  told  me  that  Thou  art  the  Son  of 
the  living  God,  and  that  Thou  givest  aid  to  the  hard-pressed 
and  victory  to  those  who  trust  in  Thee,  I  humbly  crave  Thy 
powerful  assistance.  If  Thou  grantest  me  the  victory  over 
my  enemies,  I  will  believe  in  Thee  and  be  baptized  in  Thy 
name.  For  I  have  called  upon  my  gods  in  vain.  They 
must  be  impotent,  as  they  cannot  help  those  who  serve 
them.  Now  I  invoke  Thee,  desiring  to  believe  in  Thee  ; 
do,  then,  deliver  me  from  the  hands  of  my  adversaries." 

No  sooner  had  Chlodwig  uttered  this  prayer  than  the 
Alemanni  became  panic-stricken,  took  to  flight,  and  soon 
after,  seeing  their  king  slain,  sued  for  peace.  Thereupon 
Chlodwig  blended  both  nations — the  Franks  and  the  Ale 
manni — together,  returned  home,  and  became  a  Christian. 

There  is  another.  He  is  not  as  yet  a  member  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  He  is  living  in  doubt  and  uncertainty  as 
to  which  of  all  religions  is  the  true  one.  Common  sense 
tells  him  that  no  salvation  is  possible  except  in  the  true  re- 
iigion.  Now,  God  will  enlighten  him  to  know  the  true 
religion,  if  he  persevsras  in  prayer  for  this  grace. 


310  THE  PR  ODIGAL'S  PRA  YER  : 

The  Rev.  F.  Thayer,  when  as  yet  a  minister  of  the 
Anglican  Church,  lived  for  some  time  in  great  doubt  as  to 
whether  the  Anglican  Church  was  the  true  one.  So  he  had 
recourse  to  God  ;  he  prayed  for  light  in  the  following 
manner  : 

"  God  of  all  goodness,  Almighty  and  Eternal  Father  of 
mercies,  and  Saviour  of  mankind,  I  implore  Thee,  by  Thy 
sovereign  goodness,  to  enlighten  my  mind  and  to  touch  my 
heart,  that,  by  means  of  true  faith,  hope,  and  charity,  I 
may  live  and  die  in  the  true  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  I 
confidently  beliove  that,  as  there  is  but  one  God,  there  can 
be  but  one  faith,  one  religion,  one  only  path  to  salvation, 
and  that  every  other  path  opposed  thereto  can  lead  but  to 
perdition.  This  path,  0  my  God!  I  anxiously  seek  after, 
that  I  may  follow  it  and  be  saved.  Therefore  I  protest  be 
fore  Thy  divine  Majesty,  and  I  swear  by  all  Thy  divine  at 
tributes,  that  I  will  follow  the  religion  which  Thou  shalt 
reveal  to  me  as  the  true  one,  and  will  abandon,  at  whatever 
cost,  that  wherein  I  shall  have  discovered  errors  and  false 
hoods.  I  confess  that  I  do  not  deserve  this  favor  for  the 
greatness  of  my  sins,  for  which  I  am  truly  penitent,  seeing 
they  offend  a  God  who  is  so  good,  so  holy,  and  so  worthy  of 
love ;  but  what  I  deserve  not  I  hope  to  obtain  from  Thine  in 
finite  mercy,  and  I  beseech  Thee  to  grant  it  unto  me 
through  the  merits  of  that  precious  blood  which  was  shed 
for  us  sinners  by  Thine  only  Son,  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord, 
who  liveth  and  reigneth,  etc.  Amen." 

Truly,  so  sincere  and  humble  a  prayer  could  not  remain 
unheard.  God  enlightened  him  so  as  to  see  that  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  was  the  only  true  church  in  which  alone 
salvation  was  possible.  He  renounced  his  heresy  and  be 
came  a  Roman  Catholic. 

There  is  another.  He  is  a  Roman  Catholic,  but  his  faith 
in  some  of  the  truths  of  the  Catholic  Church  is  not  very 
lively  ;  for  instance,  in  the  Real  Presence  of  Jesus  Christ  in 


PRATER  THE  KEY  TO  Qorfs  MERCY.  311 

the  Blessed  Sacrament.  From  this  want  of  faith  proceed 
his  coldness  in  prayer  and  irreverent  behavior  in  church, 
his  wilful  neglect  of  hearing  Mass  on  Sundays  and  holy- 
days  of  obligation,  his  rare  reception  of  the.  sacraments,  his 
lukewarnmess,  and  so  many  other  faults.  Now,  if  he  prays 
and  continues  to  pray  to  our  divine  Saviour  for  a  lively 
faith,  for  a  thorough  change  of  his  heart,  his  prayer  will  bo 
heard. 

A  young  cleric  once  heard  a  missionary  preach  on  the 
Real  Presence  and  on  the  great  love  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the 
Blessed  Sacrament.  The  missionary  spoke  with  as  lively  a 
faith  as  if  he  saw  Jesus  Christ  with  his  eyes.  The  young  cleric 
was  struck  at  this,  and  said  to  himself :  "  0  my  Lord  !  what 
shall  become  of  me?  I,  too,  must  one  day  preach  on  Thy  Pre 
sence  in  the  Holy  Eucharist ;  but  how  feeble  will  my  words 
be  in  comparison  with  the  words  of  this  pious  priest! "  The 
young  cleric  related  this  afterwards,  and  he  added  that  from 
that  time  forward  he  had  always  begged  of  Jesus  Christ  the 
gift  of  a  lively  faith  in  His  Heal  Presence  in  the  Blessed 
Sacrament,  and  that  he  had  done  so  frequently  during  Mass, 
particularly  at  the  time  of  the  Elevation.  Gradually  his 
faith  became  so  lively  that  in  this  light  of  faith  he  saw  our 
Lord  more  distinctly  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament  than  He 
could  have  been  seen  with  the  eyes  of  the  body,  had  He 
vouchsafed  to  show  Himself  in  a  sensible  manner. 

There  is  another.  He  has  been  leading  a  life  of  debauchery 
for  many  years.  His  evil  habits  are  deeply  rooted.  He  seems 
to  be  entirely  under  the  control  of  his  sinful  passions.  He 
feels  indeed  the  great  misery  in  which  his  soul  is  plunged. 
He  now  and  then  tries  to  rid  himself  of  it ;  but  in  vain. 
He  feels  too  weak  to  resist  his  passions.  He  is  tempted  to 
despair  of  his  salvation.  Whence  shall  he  obtain  courage 
and  strength  to  free  himself  of  his  evil  habits  and  lead  a 
better  life  ?  Ah  !  he  must  pray  to  the  Lord  to  assist  him, 
and  the  Lord,  who  is  the  most  merciful  Father,  will  go  to 


312  THS  Pit  ODIGA  L'S  PR  A  YER  : 

meet  His  erring  child,  and  deliver  him  from  his  enemies 
and  sins. 

Father  Hunolt,  S.  J.,  relates  that  there  was  once  a  certain 
vicious  young  man  who  often  sincerely  wished  to  change  his 
life,  but  who,  on  account  of  his  deeply-rooted  evil  habits, 
believed  his  conversion  utterly  impossible.  He  thought  that 
whatever  he  might  do  would  be  of  no  avail  to  excite  true 
sorrow  and  contrition  in  his  heart.  One  day,  overwhelmed 
with  melancholy,  he  left  home  in  order  to  seek  some  relief 
in  the  society  of  his  companions.  On  leaving  the  house  he 
met  at  the  door  a  poor  beggar.  As  soon  as  he  saw  him  he 
remembered  the  words  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ :  "  What 
soever  yon  have  done  to  the  least  of  my  brethren,  you  have 
done  to  me."  He  then  went  and  took  a  loaf  of  bread,  and, 
throwing  himself  on  his  knees  before  the  beggar,  he  gave  it 
to  him,  thus  praying  in  his  heart  :  "  My  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
I  adore  Thee  in  the  person  of  this  poor  man  !  Most  gladly 
would  I  give  Thee  my  whole  heart,  but  I  cannot,  because  it 
is  too  hardened ;  for  the  present,  at  least,  take,  I  beseech 
Thee,  this  loaf  of  bread,  which  I  am  still  able  to  give.  Do 
with  my  heart  whatever  Thou  wilt."  0  the  wonderful 
power  of  prayer  ?  No  sooner  had  he  prayed  thus  than  he 
felt  a  most  bitter  sorrow  for  all  his  sins,  and  shed  a  torrent 
of  tears.  He  made  a  good  confession,  and  ever  afterwards 
received  many  extraordinary  graces.  * 

There  is  another.  He  does  not  wish  to  hear  of  the  misery, 
of  his  soul,  in  order  not  to  be  tormented  by  the  stings  of  his 
conscience  ;  he  even  hates  the  very  thought  of  conceiving  a 
desire  of  amendment ;  he  has  become  hardened  in  sin ;  were 
hell  open  before  his  eyes,  he  would  still  continue  to  offend 
Almighty  God ;  he  resembles  an  incarnate  demon.  He  has 
not  only  no  sorrow  for  his  sins,  but  he  has  not  even  the 
least  desire  to  ask  of  God  the  grace  to  be  sorry  for  them. 

*  Eleventh  sermon  on  the  "  Follo\ring  of  Christ" 


PRAYER  THE  KEY  TO  GOD'S  MERCY.  313 

How  can  he  be  saved  who  has  not  even  the  least  desire  to 
obtain  anything  from  God  ? 

This,  I  must  confess,  is  a  pitiable,  but  not  a  desperate, 
state  ;  for,  if  such  a  hardened  sinner  will  pray  with  perse 
verance,  God  will  give  him  the  desire  to  pray  for  the  grace 
of  contrition.  Has  He  not  declared,  "I  desire  not  the 
death  of  the  wicked,  but  that  he  be  converted  and  live  "? 
God  has  the  greatest  desire  to  see  all  sinners  saved,  and  He  is 
ready  at  any  time  to  give  them  the  graces  necessary  for  their 
salvation  ;  but  He  wishes  that  they  should  pray  for  every 
good  thought  and  desire,  and  for  efficacious  grace  to  put 
their  good  desires  into  execution.  Let  such  a  sinner  pray  : 
"  Lord,  give  me  a  true  desire  to  pray  to  Thee  for  my  salva 
tion  " ;  let  him  persevere  in  thus  praying,  and  then  let  him 
rest  assured  that  God  will  finally  enlighten  his  mind  so  as 
to  understand  the  miserable  state  of  his  soul.  He  will 
touch  his  heart  with  true  sorrow  for  his  sins,  and  strengthen 
his  will  so  as  to  be  able  to  rise  from  his  fatal  state  and  be 
saved. 

In  1858  there  lived  in  Philadelphia  a  young  lady  who 
had  gone  so  far  in  her  wickedness  as  to  commit  the  most 
heinous  crimes,  no  longer  through  weakness,  but  out  of 
pure  hatred  of  God.  Her  accomplice  had  died  suddenly  in 
the  very  act  of  a  most  shameful  sin,  and  afterwards  appear 
ed  to  her  enveloped  in  flames  of  fire.  From  that  time  for 
ward  she  felt  in  herself  as  it  were  an  inward  burning  so 
intense  that  she  imagined  herself  in  hell,  and  utteisd 
most  frightful  cries.  This  punishment,  far  from  making 
her  repent  of  her  sinful  life,  served  only  to  increase 
^r  hatred  of  God.  For  three  months  she  did  nothing 
out  pour  forth  the  most  execrate  blasphemies  against 
God,  the  blessed  Mother  of  God,  and  the  saints.  The 
sins  which  she  committed  during  that  time  are  so  enormous 
that  the  mere  recital  of  them  would  make  one  shudder  with 
korror.  Ak  1  so  impious  a  wretch  as  this,  yoa  may 


314  THE  PHODIQAL'S  PRA YEK : 

think,  will  never  be  converted.  But,  0  the  wonderful 
power  of  prayer  !  So  great  is  its  power  with  God  that, 
should  a  man  be  ever  so  impious  and  perverse,  he  will  not 
fail  to  obtain  forgiveness  if  he  asks  for  it.  The  great  sinner 
of  our  story  had  a  lady  friend,  by  whom  she  was  repeatedly 
requested  to  say  some  prayers.  She  refused  for  several  days 
to  pray,  but  yielded  at  last  to  the  urgent  request  of  her 
kind  friend  to  ask  God's  pardon .  The  promise  of  Jesus 
Christ,  "  Whosoever  asks  shall  receive,"  was  soon  fulfilled. 
At  that  time  some  of  our  Fathers  gave  a  mission  in  Phila 
delphia.  She  went  to  one  of  them  to  make  her  confession. 
Her  sorrow  for  her  sins  was  so  great  that  she  could  hardly 
speak  in  the  confessional.  She  requested  her  confessor  to 
make  known  the  great  mercy  which  God  had  shown  her 
after  having  prayed  for  it  a  few  times. 

St.  Alphonsus  told  indeed  a  great  truth  when  he  said 
"that  one  of  the  greatest  pains  of  the  damned  is  the 
thought  that  they  could  have  saved  themselves  so  ^  easily  by 
asking  of  God  to  give  them  true  sorrow  for  their  sins  and  a 
firm  will  to  amend  their  lives.  No  one,  therefore,"  says  the 
saint,  "can  excuse  himself  before  God  by  saying  that  his 
salvation  was  impossible,  on  account  of  the  difficulties  and 
obstacles  which  he  met  in  the  way  of  salvation.  God  will 
not  hearken  to  such  an  excuse;  He  will  answer:  <  If  you 
had  not  strength  and  courage  enough  to  overcome  all  ob 
stacles  and  difficulties  in  the  way  of  your  salvation,  why  did 
vou  not  ask  me  to  come  to  your  assistance  ? '  If  a  man  has 
fallen  into  a  deep  pit,  and  will  not  take  hold  of  the  rope  that 
is  let  down  to  draw  him  up,  it  is  clearly  his  own  fault  if  he 
perishes.  Thus  the  sinner,  too,  is  lost  through  his  own 
fault,  if  he  neglects  to  pray  for  his  salvation.  have 
waited  for  you  so  many  years/  the  Lord  will  say  to  the  sin 
ner  '  in  the  hope  that  you  would  at  last  ask  for  the  grace 
of  true  repentance  and  for  tho  amendment  of  your  sinful  life- 
Had  you  only  asked,  you  would  have  instantly  received, 


PRA  YER  THE  KEY  TO  GOD'S  MERCY.  315 

for  to  call  on  me  for  assistance  is  to  be   delivered   and 
saved.' " 

Would  to  God  that  all  those  saints  now  in  heaven  who 
for  a  while  led  a  sinful  life  on  earth  could  stand  before  us 
at  this  moment !  Would  that  we  could  ask  them  in  per- 
son:  "Beloved  souls,  why  did  you  not  die  in  your  sins? 
Why  were  you  forgiven  ?"  "Ah  !"  they  would  answer, 
"  it  was  because  we  implored  the  Lord  for  mercy  and  for 
giveness."  "  But  how  did  it  happen  that  you  did  not  relapse 
into  your  former  sins  ?  How  were  you  able  to  persevere  in 
leading  a  penitential  life  until  death  ?  "  "  Beloved  breth 
ren,"  they  would  answer,  "  know  that  this  good-will,  this 
strength  and  courage,  came  not  from  ourselves.  No ;  of  our 
selves  we  were  too  weak,  like  you.  We  were  often  tempt 
ed  to  commit  the  same  sins  again  ;  but  then  we  had  re 
course  to  prayer,  and  God  assisted  us  and  preserved  UP 
from  sin.  Prayer  makes  the  soul  unconquerable.  Nc 
evil  spirit  has  the  least  power  over  her  as  long  as  she 
prays.  It  is,  then,  by  prayer  that  we  were  enabled  to  give 
up  sin,  to  lead  a  penitential  life,  and  to  die  as  holy  peni 
tents." 

Ah  !  would  that  some  of  the  souls  now  burning  in  hell 
could  come  forth  and  tell  us  why  they  were  lost !  What 
would  the  impenitent  thief  say  who  was  cruc^ied  at  the 
eame  time  with  our  Saviour  ?  -  "  Ah  !"  he  would  say, 
"I  confess  that  I  was  a  very  wicked  sinner  throughout 
the  course  of  my  whole  life ;  I  committed  many  crimes,  for 
which  I  have  deserved  hell  a  thousand  times.  But  my  com 
panion  on  the  cross  was  not  less  guilty ;  his  sins  cried  not 
less  to  Heaven  for  vengeance ;  yet  he  ascended  from  his  cross 
into  Heaven,  whilst  I,  from  mine,  was  hurled  into  the  depth 
of  hell ;  he  rejoices  for  ever,  while  I  am  tormented  in  ever 
lasting  fire.  What  brought  him  into  Heaven  ?  It  was  the 
simple  prayer  :  '  Lord,  remember  me  when  Thou  cornest 
into  Thy  kingdom.'  What  brought  me  to  hell  ?  It  waj 


316  THE  PRODIGAL'S  PRA YKR  : 

the  neglect  of  prayer  ;  I  remained  hardened  in  my  sins  and 
died  as  a  reprobate  because  I  would  not  pray." 

Let  us  rest  assured  that  all  the  damned  would  give  the 
same  answer  were  they  allowed  to  tell  us  the  cause  of  their 
damnation.  0  language  full  of  terror  to  hardened  sinners 
who  do  not  wish  to  give  up  their  sinful  lives  and  return  to 
God  !  0  language  full  of  sweetness  and  consolation  for  all 
those  who  pray  to  be  delivered  from  their  sins,  and  to  be  re 
ceived  again  as  children  of  God  ! 

Ah  !  would  to  God  that  I  could  stand  on  a  high  moun 
tain,  surrounded  by  all  the  sinners  in  the  world.  I  would 
cry  aloud,  at  the  top  of  my  voice  :  "  Pray,  pray,  pray  !  You 
will  not  die  in  your  sins ;  you  will  be  forgiven ;  you  will 
be  saved,  if  you  pray  !  God  does  not  require  that  you 
should  go  and  sell  everything  and  give  it  to  the  poor,  or  be 
put  to  the  rack,  or  be  nailed  to  a  cross,  in  order  to  save  your 
souls.  Conditions  so  painful  as  these  He  does  not  require  of 
you.  He  requires  the  easiest  in  the  world  ;  all  that  He  asks 
is  that  you  should  pray  and  sincerely  entreat  Him  to  save 
you.  He  is  still  the  same  God  ;  He  is  still  as  powerful  to 
help  you,  just  as  merciful  to  forgive  you  and  to  receive 
you  again  into  His  friendship,  as  He  was  when  He  said 
to  the  good  thief :  '  This  day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in 
Paradise.'"  He  will  be  to  you  the  same  powerful,  the 
same  merciful  God  that  He  was  to  St.  Magdalen  the 
Penitent,  to  St.  Augustine,  to  St.  Margaret  of  Cortona, 
to  St.  Mary  of  Egypt,  and  to  many  other  souls  whom 
He  has  delivered  from  their  sins,  and  even  changed  into 
saints.  But  you  must  avail  yourselves  of  His  promise: 
"  Amen,  amen  I  say  unto  you,  whatever  you  ask  the  Father 
in  my  name,  He  shall  give  it  to  you."  *  Jesus  Christ  has 
made  this  promise,  and  He  will  never  fail  to  keep  it. 
"  Heaven  and  earth  will  uass  away,  but  His  word  shall  ne^er 

•  Johnivi.  28. 


PRAYER  THE  KEY  TO  GOD'S  MEROY.  317 

pass  away."  He  alone  is  lost  who  does  not  pray  ;  he  alone 
will  be  saved  who  perseveres  in  prayer.  On  the  last  day 
all  the  saints  of  Heaven,  as  well  as  also  all  the  damned  souls 
of  hell,  will  bear  witness  to  this  truth ;  on  that  great  day 
we  too  shall  bear  witness  to  it,  either  with  the  elect  on  the 
right,  if  we  have  prayed  during  life,  or  with  the  damned 
on  the  left,  if  we  have  neglected  to  pray. 

In  order  to  be  sure  to  bear  witness  to  this  truth  with  the 
elect  on  that  great  day,  let  us  say  every  day  of  our  life  the 
following  ejaculation  with  all  the  fervor  of  our  heart :  "  My 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  for  the  sake  of  Thy  sufferings  grant  me 
such  faith,  hope,  charity,  sorrow  for  my  sins,  and  love  for 
prayer  as  will  sanctify  and  save  my  souL" 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MISAPPREHENSION     OF     GOD'S     MERCY  —  DELAY     OP 
CONVERSION. 

ST.  ALPHONSUS,  in  his  book  Glories  of  Mary,  tells  of  a 
poor  sinner  who,  among  other  crimes,  had  killed  his 
father  and  brother,  and  was  in  consequence  a  fugitive. 
One  day  in  Lent,  after  hearing  a  sermon  on  the  mercy  of 
God,  he  went  to  confess  his  sins  to  the  preacher  himself. 
The  confessor,  on  hearing  the  enormous  crimes  which  he 
had  committed,  sent  him  to  the  altar  of  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
that  she  might  obtain  for  him  heartfelt  sorrow  and  the  par 
don  of  his  sins.  The  sinner  obeyed  and  began  to  pray. 
The  sorrow  obtained  for  him  by  the  Mother  of  God  was  so 
great  that  he  suddenly  died  from  excess  of  grief.  On  the 
following  day,  while  the  priest  was  recommending  the  soul 
of  the  deceased  sinner  to  the  prayers  of  the  people,  a  white 
dove  appeared  in  the  church,  and  let  a  card  drop  at  his  feet. 
The  priest  took  it  up,  and  found  the  following  words 
written  on  it :  "  The  soul  of  the  deceased,  on  leaving  the 
body,  went  straight  to  heaven.  Continue  thou  to  preach 
the  infinite  mercy  of  God." 

The  Lord  of  mercy  addresses  to  every  priest  the  words  : 
"Continue  thou  to  preach  the  infinite  mercy  of  God." 
There  are  many  sinners  who  despair  of  salvation.  They  give 
up  all  hope  of  ever  recovering  the  grace  of  God.  Some 
say  to  themselves  :  "  Could  I  but  once  more  be  reconciled 
with  the  Almighty,  I  would  never  again  commit  a  mortal 
sin.  I  would  lead  a  far  different  life."  On  such  sinners 
God  has  mercy,  for  He  sees  them  ready  to  profit  by  Hi  a 

818 


MISAPPREHENSION  OF  GOD' a  MERGT:          319 

mercy.  He  therefore  sends  them  a  good  priest,  a  charitable 
friend,  to  encourage  them  to  hope  in  His  mercy.  He  per 
mits  them  to  hear  or  read  a  sermon  on  His  goodness  to  in 
spire  them  with  the  hope  of  forgiveness.  Without  delay 
they  cast  themselves  at  the  feet  of  the  priest,  make  a  sincere 
confession  of  their  sins,  with  the  firm  purpose  of  abandon 
ing  their  sinful  lives,  and  of  being,  for  the  time  to  come, 
faithful  in  the  service  of  God. 

But  there  is  another  class  of  sinners  represented  by  the 
prodigal's  companions.  They,  too,  are  glad  to  hear  the  in 
finite  mercy  of  God  extolled.  But  instead  of  accepting 
with  gladness  the  pardon  that  God  so  generously  offers 
them,  they  obstinately  neglect  His  offer.  If  a  young 
woman  who  keeps  sinful  company  with  a  young  man  is  told 
to  leave  his  company  and  go  to  confession,  what  will  be  her 
answer  ?  "  0  Father  !  I  cannot  give  him  up  now  ;  I  am  not 
yet  prepared  to  go  to  confession.  What  would  people  say  if 
I  were  to  keep  company  with  him  no  longer  ?  "  If  a  revenge 
ful  woman  is  told  to  speak  to  her  enemy,  and  to  make  amends 
for  all  she  has  said  about  her  neighbor,  what  would  she  say  ? 
"  I  cannot  do  it ;  I  cannot  speak  to  that  woman." 

If  a  man  is  told  to  restore  everything  that  he  has  stolen 
or  gained  by  dishonest  means,  what  answer  would  he  make  ? 
"  I  cannot  do  it ;  I  should  be  reduced  to  beggary."  If  a 
young  man  who  has  been  for  years  a  slave  to  sinful  habits 
is  asked  when  he  intends  to  give  up  his  shameful  habits 
and  go  to  confession,  "  Oh  ! "  he  will  say,  "  I  cannot 
go  now,  but  I  will  go  at  some  other  time.  There  is  time 
enough  to  do  penance  and  to  be  reconciled  with  Almightv 
God.  I  wish  to  enjoy  myself  a  while.  The  Lord  is  merci 
ful.  I  shall  do  penance  and  make  a  good  confession  at 
some  other  time,  at  least  on  my  death-bed,  and  God  will  for 
give  me." 

Yes,  all  say :  "  God  is  merciful.  I  shall  do  penance  some 
other  time,  and  God  will  forgive  me."  True,  God  is  merci- 


330          MISAPPREHENSION  OF  GOD'S  MERCT: 

fill.  If  He  were  not  merciful,  who  would  be  living  to-day  ? 
And  He  has  even  sworn  an  oath  that  He  will  forgive  us,  no 
mutter  how  numerous,  no  matter  how  enormous,  our  sins 
may  be,  provided  that  we  turn  to  Him  with  our  whole 
heart;  but  without  real  change  of  heart,  without  true, 
earnest  contrition,  God  will  not,  God  cannot  pardon  us — no, 
not  even  for  a  single  venial  sin.  By  putting  off  our  con 
version  from  day  to  day,  we  deliberately  declare  in  the 
face  of  Heaven  and  earth,  and  renew  the  declaration  every 
day,  that  we  will  not  do  penance,  even  though  we  have  the 
power  and  the  time  to  do  so.  Of  our  own  free  will,  there 
fore,  we  exclude  ourselves  from  God's  mercy  and  compel  God 
to  condemn  us.  By  putting  off  our  conversion  we  wilfully 
abuse  God's  mercy  and  make  of  it  a  motive  for  sinning. 
We  remain  in  sin  and  refuse  to  do  penance  because  God  is 
patient  and  merciful.  Does  not  this  partake  of  the  malice 
of  the  devil  ?  Because  God  is  good,  we  will  be  wicked  ; 
because  God  is  merciful,  we  will  remain  hardened ;  we  will 
persevere  in  sin  and  remain  impenitent  just  because  God  is 
patient  and  long-suffering.  We  continue  to  sin  on  from  day 
to  day,  and  from  year  to  year,  because  God  does  not  punish 
us  instantly  and  cast  us  into  hell  in  the  very  act  of  sin. 
This  course  of  action  is  a  fearful  mistake  and  misapprehen 
sion  of  God's  kindness  to  us.  If  we  reject  the  pardon  that 
God  now  so  generously  offers  us,  the  time  will  come  when 
we  shall  ask  for  pardon,  and  it  will  not  be  given  us.  "  You 
shall  seek  me,"  says  Jesus  Christ,  "  but  you  shall  not  find 
me,  and  you  shall  die  in  your  sins." 

In  order  to  understand  aright  this  fearful  truth,  we  must 
remember  two  other  great  truths :  God  numbers,  weighs,  and 
measures  all  things.  He  numbers  the  stars  ;  He  measures 
the  drops  of  rain  which  He  sends  upon  the  fields  of  the 
good  and  of  the  bad.  He  watches  still  more  carefully  over 
things  of  greater  importance — over  the  number  of  graces 
which  He  has  designed  for  each  one  of  us,  that  we  may 


DEL  A  T  OF  CONVERSION.  821 

work  out  our  salvation.  He  also  watches  over  the  numbei 
of  sins  which  He  is  willing  to  forgive  us,  over  the  number 
of  insults  which  He  is  willing  to  endure  from  us.  He  has 
decreed  from  all  eternity  how  far  He  will  allow  each  one  to 
continue  in  his  wicked  life.  He  has  decreed  the  number  of 
times  that  He  will  grant  pardon.  He  has  resolved  on  the 
measure  of  sins  that  He  will  bear  with  before  utterly  for 
saking  the  sinner.  God  waits,  perhaps,  for  a  certain  ser 
mon,  a  certain  good  advice,  a  certain  inspiration  ;  and  if  that 
inspiration,  if  that  last  call,  be  neglected,  then  woe  to  the  sin 
ner,  for  God  will  call  him  no  more.  The  graces  which  God 
had  destined  for  him  have  been  all  abused,  and  shall  not  be 
granted  him.  The  number  of  times  that  God  had  resolved 
to  pardon  him  is  exhausted  ;  the  measure  of  his  sins  is  filled 
to  overflowing. 

God  promised  Abraham  the  land  of  Canaan,  but  He  did 
not  fulfil  His  promise  until  four  hundred  years  had  passed 
away.  The  reason  of  this  was  because  "  the  iniquities  of 
the  Amorrhites  were  not  yet  filled  up."  *  That  is,  the  num 
ber  of  their  sins  was  not  yet  great  enough  to  cause  them  to  be 
utterly  abandoned  by  God.  "If  they  continue  to  fill  up 
the  measure  of  their  sins,"  said  the  Lord,  "  I  will  destroy 
them  all,  and  give  their  country  to  your  posterity." 

The  Lord  said  to  the  same  patriarch :  "  The  cry  of  the 
abominations  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrha  has  reached  my  ears ; 
the  measure  of  their  enormous  sins  is  filled  up."  f  There 
is  no  more  mercy  for  them.;  I  abandon  them  to  my  justice. 

What  in  each  case  is  this  fatal  number?  How  great  is 
this  measure  ?  The  secret  is  hidden  from  men.  No  one 
can  know  it  for  certain ;  we  only  know  in  general  that  for 
oome  the  number  of  sins  is  seemingly  greater,  for  others  less. 
For  the  angels  it  seemed  very  small.  The  first  sin  they 
committed  caused  their  eternal  ruin.  Millions  of  souls  are 
cast  into  hell  for  one  mortal  sin.  The  unhappiness  of  the 
*  Gen.  xv.  10.  f  (Jen. 


322          MISAPPREHENSION  OF  GOD'S  MERCY: 

human  race  comes  from  one  single  mortal  sin.  God  made 
the  measure  a  little  greater  for  the  inhabitants  of  Damascus. 
He  said  by  the  mouth  of  one  of  the  prophets :  "I  will  par 
don  three  times  to  the  people  of  Damascus,  but  if  they  com 
mit  four  I  will  not  give  them  grace  to  repent." 

He  gave  a  still  greater  number  to  the  children  of  Israel  in 
Palestine :  "  They  have,"  said  He  by  Moses, "  already  tempted 
me  ten  times,  and  have  not  obeyed  my  voice  ;  they  shall  not 
see  the  land  I  promised  with  an  oath  to  their  fathers." 
Thus  the  measure  of  sin  is  unequal,  the  number  of  offences 
different.  Reprobation  begins  for  some  at  their  first  mortal 
sin ;  for  others  at  the  tenth  ;  for  others  at  the  hundredth — all 
depends  on  the  will  of  God.  A  master  who  has  two  inso 
lent  servants  may  endure  the  insolence  of  the  one  longer 
than  that  of  the  other.  Nor  is  it  necessary  that  the  sin 
which  completes  this  terrible  number  must  be  greater  than 
the  others ;  it  is  enough  that  it  be  the  last.  The  minute 
preceding  the  striking  of  the  clock  is  not  longer  than  other 
minutes,  but  it  makes  the  clock  strike  precisely  because  it 
is  the  last.  Sometimes  the  last  sin  may  even  be  less  enor 
mous  than  others  already  committed.  To  fall  into  a  preci 
pice,  it  is  not  necessary  that  the  last  step  taken  be  longei 
than  the  preceding  steps— it  maybe  much  shorter ;  never 
theless,  it  is  enough  to  cause  the  fall. 

Now,  when  the  measure  of  sins  is  filled  up,  what  happens 
to  the  sinner  ?  One  of  two  things:  either  he  dies  immedi 
ately,  or  God  still  allows  him  to  linger  on  earth.  If  he  dies 
immediately,  God,  without  waiting  a  single  moment,  casts 
him  into  hell.  In  this  way  He  chastised  the  rebel  angels, 
not  leaving  them  a  moment  for  repentance,  as  it  were,  after 
their  sin  had  been  committed.  Thus  He  daily  punishes 
many  sinners,  carrying  them  off  in  the  flower  of  their  youth, 
in  the  midst  of  their  licentiousness,  by  a  fall,  by  the  stroke 
of  an  enemy,  or  by  some  other  accident. 

A  young  man,  a  native  of  Borgo,  Taro,  a  carpenter  by 


DEL  A  Y  OF  CON  VERSION.  323 

trade,  was  excessively  addicted  to  drunkenness,  and  showed 
himself  unwilling  in  confession  to  correct  this  great  vice. 
Father  Piamonti  consequently  dismissed  him  without  grant 
ing  him  absolution.  Meanwhile,  the  young  man,  instead  of 
entering  into  himself  and  repenting,  went  about  boasting 
that  he  had  been  absolved  by  another  priest,  and  had  even 
received  the  blessed  Eucharist  on  occasion  of  the  general  Com 
munion.  For  this  impiety  he  was  very  soon  punished  in  a 
most  exemplary  manner  ;  for  the  day  had  not  yet  passed 
before  the  sacrilegious  young  man  received  a  dangerous 
wound  from  the  cut  of  a  sword.  Every  one  was  persuaded 
that  the  misfortune  happened  to  him  in  punishment  of  his 
crime  ;  but  the  wretched  man  fell  again  into  worse  disorders 
*;han  before,  and  was  in  a  few  months  visited  by  divine 
justice  with  a  more  severe  chastisement  still,  being  shot 
dead,  without  a  moment  of  time  wherein  to  make  his  recon 
ciliation  with  God.* 

If  God  does  not  always  punish  the  sinner  immediately 
when  the  measure  of  his  sins  is  full,  but  allows  him  still  to 
remain  on  earth,  He  withdraws  His  efficacious  graces  from 
him,  and  delivers  him  up  to  a  reprobate  sense.  St.  Basil  re 
marks  that  when  a  sinner  has  filled  up  the  measure  of  his 
sins  his  evils  become  incurable ;  he  gets  outside  the  circle  of 
God's  mercy  and  into  that  of  His  justice,  from  which  he 
shall  never  escape 

"  I  shall  bear  with  the  citizens  of  Damascus  ;  I  shall  bear 
with  the  inhabitants  of  Tyre  ;  I  shall  bear  with  the  children 
of  Am mon  until  their  third  and  fourth  sin,  but  their  fourth 
sin  shall  be  their  last.  I  shall  have  mercy  on  them  no  longer. 
1  shall  punish  them,  I  shall  let  them  die  in  their  sins,  and 
condemn  them  to  eternal  torments." 

Suppose  a  man  were  condemned  to  quit  the  country  with 
in   thirty  days  at  the  penalty  of   losing  his  life  if  found 
within  the  realm  after  that  time.     What  would  be  thought 
*  Life  of  Father  Piamonti,  chap.  vi. 


324  MISAPPREHENSION  OF  GOD'S  MERCY: 

of  him  if,  instead  of  making  every  preparation  for  his  de 
parture,  and  eagerly  seizing  the  first  opportunity  to  depart, 
he  were  to  spend  his  time  in  drinking  and  gambling  and 
amusing  himself  to  the  last  moment  ?  It  would  be  thought 
that  he  had  lost  his  senses.  A  very  similar  case  is  that  of 
one  who  has  committed  mortal  sin,  and  who  knows  that  the 
sentence  of  eternal  death  is  pronounced  against  him  the 
moment  after  the  commission  of  that  sin.  Death  may 
overtake  him  at  any  moment,  and  if  he  dies  in  such  a  state 
he  will  surely  be  lost  for  ever.  Is  it  not  utter  folly  to  con 
tinue  so  ?  Sooner  or  later  that  sinful  life  must  be  given  up 
if  a  man  has  any  hope  or  desire  for  salvation.  This  life  has 
been  given  us  to  do  penance,  and  yet  we  have  wasted  the 
greater  part  of  it  in  vain  and  sinful  amusements,  in  hoarding 
up  perishable  riches.  We  have  lost  so  many  good  opportu 
nities  of  abandoning  sin,  and  those  opportunities  will  neve: 
return. 

But  the  sinner  is  apt  to  think  that  there  is  time  enough 
to  do  penance.  "  I  shall  do  penance  when  I  am  old,"  he 
says.  But  suppose  you  should  die  in  your  youth,  because 
the  number  of  your  sins  is  filled  up  ?  You  will  do  penance 
next  year.  But  suppose  you  should  die  this  year,  because 
the  measure  of  your  sins  is  filled  up  ?  What  then  ?  You 
will  go  to  confession  next  Easter.  But  suppose  you  should 
never  see  another  Easter,  because  the  number  of  your  sins  is 
filled  up  before  that  time  ?  You  will  go  to  confession  in  a 
month  or  two,  as  soon  as  you  have  finished  the  business  that 
you  have  on  hand.  But  are  you  sure  that  you  will  live  yet 
another  month  ?  Next  week,  then,  I  will  give  up  that  bad 
company,  I  will  restore  that  money,  those  ill-gotten  goods. 
But  suppose  you  should  die  before  the  end  of  this  week,  be 
cause  the  number  of  your  sins  is  filled  up  ?  To-morrow, 
ther,  I  will  go  to  confession.  To-morrow  ?  Why  not  to 
day  ?  Perhaps  the  morrow  will  never  dawn  for  you,  be 
cause  the  measure  of  your  sins  is  filled  up.  I  do  not  think 


DELAY  OF  CONVERSION.  325 

that  I  will  die  so  soon.  That  is  the  very  reason  why  you 
should  fear;  for  death  will  come  when  you  least  expect  it. 
At  last  death  comes  upon  you,  and  you  are  not  prepared. 
Ah  !  do  not  believe  the  devil ;  he  is  your  bitter  enemy,  ho  is 
plotting  your  ruin.  Believe  rather  the  priest  of  God,  be 
lieve  your  friends,  believe  Jesus  Christ,  who  loves  you,  who 
has  shed  every  drop  of  His  blood  for  you.  Jesus  has  your 
life  in  His  hands ;  He  knows  what  He  says  when  He  tells 
you  that  death  shall  come  upon  you  when  you  least  ex 
pect  it. 

But  you  say  that  you  will  make  a  good  confession  and 
settle  everything  at  the  hour  of  death.  Are  you  sure  that 
at  that  hour  you  will  be  able  to  make  your  confession  ?  You 
may  die  senseless,  you  may  die  without  a  priest ;  and  what 
then  ?  Do  you  not  know  that  it  is  a  terrible  thing  to  fall 
unprepared  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God  ?  Do  you  not 
know  that,  in  order  to  obtain  forgiveness  of  your  sins,  you 
must  have  true  contrition  ?  With  the  grace  of  God,  true 
contrition  is  easy  of  attainment  for  those  who  sin  through 
weakness  or  inattention,  because  when  they  are  calm  and 
self-possessed  they  hate  sin.  Every  human  heart  feels  pity 
for  (hem ;  much  more  the  all-compassionate  heart  of  God. 
But  as  for  those  who  know  that  they  are  in  mortal  sin,  and 
are  resolved  to  remain  in  it ;  who  continue  to  sin  on  with 
wilful  determination  ;  who  wilfully  reject  all  the  graces  that 
God  now  offers  them  ;  who  continue  year  after  year  to  heap 
sin  upon  sin,  till  the  evil  becomes  a  fixed  habit,  a  dire  ne 
cessity;  who  knowingly  and  obstinately  continue  to  sacrifice 
their  reason,  their  will,  their  memory,  their  imagination, 
their  body  and  soul,  their  hope  of  heaven,  and  God  Himself, 
to  sin  and  to  the  devil,  knowing  at  the  same  time  that  their 
lives  are  in  the  hands  of  God,  that  any  moment  may  be 
their  last,  that  at  any  moment  their  guilty  souls  may  he 
hurried  before  the  judgment-seat  of  God — for  them  there 
ii  §o  little  hope  of  true  contrition  at  any  future  time  that 


326  MISAPPREHENSION  OF  GOD'S  MERCY: 

to  make  them  contrite  would  require  a  miracle  of  grace — 
a  miracle  more  extraordinary  than  would  be  required  tc 
raise  a  corpse  to  life. 

Many  say  that  they  intend  to  give  up  sin  and  do  penance 
in  their  old  age.  But  if  they  give  way  to  all  their  wicked 
passions  until  they  are  old,  they  will  not  be  able  to  conquer 
them  in  their  old  age.  It  may  be  said  that  many  have  en 
joyed  the  world  when  young,  and  yet  in  their  old  age  they 
have  stopped  sinning  and  have  led  edifying  lives.  This 
is  true.  Many  have  stopped  sinning  in  their  old  age — that 
is,  they  have  stopped  committing  public  and  notorious  sins. 
They  have  given  up  the  ball-room,  the  theatre,  the  house 
of  infamy.  But  what  does  this  prove  ?  Does  it  prove  that 
they  have  really  given  up  sin  and  every  affection  for  sin  ? 
Does  it  prove  that  their  heart  is  really  changed  ?  Not  at 
all.  If  that  were  the  case,  then  those  who  are  locked  up  in 
the  penitentiary  would  be  saints.  They  do  not  go  to  the 
ball-room,  or  to  the  theatre,  or  to  the  house  of  infamy.  But 
have  they  on  that  account  really  changed  their  lives  and 
given  up  sin  ?  Open  the  prison  doors  and  let  them  free 
again,  and  you  will  see  whether  or  not  they  have  really 
given  up  sin.  This  is  precisely  the  case  with  those  old, 
hoary-headed  sinners  who  seem  to  have  given  up  sin.  Ex 
teriorly  they  may  have  changed,  simply  because  they  cannot 
help  it ;  but  in  their  hearts,  in  their  desires,  they  are  still 
the  same.  The  man  who  has  grown  old  in  sin  no  longer 
goes  to  the  house  of  infamy,  but  he  goes  thither  in  thought 
and  desire.  Like  the  snow-crowned  volcanoes  of  South 
America,  his  head  is  white  with  snow,  but  his  heart  is 
burning  with  the  fire  of  lust. 

Who  has  ever  had  a  racking  headache,  or  toothache,  or  a 
burning  fever,  and  tried  to  pray  or  to  examine  his  conscience 
while  thus  suffering  ?  It  is  almost  impossible  to  pray  or 
to  examine  one's  conscience  while  in  such  a  state.  But  it 
\s  much  harder  to  change  the  heart,  to  give  up  sin,  than  it 


DELAY  OF  CONVERSION.  327 

is  to  pray.  If  it  is  hard  to  examine  the  conscience  when  a 
peiso<n  is  sick,  it  is  a  thousand  times  harder  to  do  it  when 
dying.  And  many  would  put  off  their  conversion  to  the 
hour  of  death.  In  that  last  and  awful  moment,  when  the 
memory  is  confused,  who  can  remember  all  his  sins  ?  In 
that  last  moment,  when  the  strength  is  gone,  who  will  be 
able  co  hate  sin  and  love  God  with  all  his  strength  ?  In 
that  last  moment,  when  speech  is  lost,  who  will  be  able  to 
make  a  full,  sincere  confession  ?  How  will  he  who  has 
given  scandal  be  able  then  to  repair  all  the  scandals  he  has 
given  during  his  whole  life  ?  How  will  he  be  able  to  bring 
back  all  the  souls  that  he  has  led  astray  and  ruined  ?  How 
will  he  be  able  to  restore  the  property  and  good  name  of 
those  whom  he  has  injured  ?  Can  all  this  be  done  in  one 
moment  ? 

Let  the  sinner  look  back  for  a  moment  on  his  past  life. 
See  how  God  has  called  you  again  and  again  to  give  up 
sin  and  return  to  a  life  of  virtue.  God  spoke  to  you  through 
the  priest ;  and,  lest  you  should  hear  the  voice  of  God,  you 
stayed  away  from  the  sermon ;  or  if  you  did  go  sometimes, 
it  was  not  to  follow  the  advice  of  the  priest  of  God,  but  to 
criticise  and  condemn  what  he  had  said.  God  gave  you 
health  and  abundance,  and  you  used  these  gifts  only  to  forget 
and  offend  the  Giver.  God  brought  you  to  a  sick-bed,  He 
reduced  you  to  poverty,  and  you  murmured  and  blasphemed 
against  Him,  saying  :  "  What  have  I  done  that  God  should 
treat  me  thus  ?"  God  warned  you  by  the  terrible  examples 
of  those  of  your  acquaintance  who  had  to  suffer  sickness 
and  jx)verty  on  account  of  sins  that  were  not  as  grievous  as 
those  you  had  committed.  Yru  have  seen  some  even  who 
were  hurried  out  of  this  life  unprepared,  and  who  died  in 
their  sins.  God  sent  you  these  warnings,  and  yet  you  did  not 
heed  them  ;  you  continued  to  live  on  as  sinful  and  careless 
as  ever.  God  called  you  and  warned  you  tli rough  the 
voice  of  your  conscience.  Sometimes  He  spoke  in  gentle 


328          MISAPPREHENSION  OF  GOD'S  MERCY: 

tones,  sometimes  in  terrible  earnest.  Sometimes  He  en« 
treated  you  to  give  up  sin  ;  sometimes  He  threatened  you  with 
the  fearful  chastisement  of  hell.  God  spoke  to  you  amid 
the  hum  of  business  ;  He  spoke  in  the  silence  of  midnight. 
in  solitude,  amid  the  gayest  amusements,  and  in  the  midst 
of  your  guilty  pleasures.  Day  after  day,  year  after  year,  He 
^called  you,  but  you  hardened  your  heart  and  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  all  His  threats,  to  all  His  entreaties.  You  would  say : 
"  I  have  no  time  now  to  think  of  such  matters  ;  I  will  thii>k 
of  them  hereafter  when  I  have  more  leisure."  At  another 
time  you  would  say :  "  What  great  harm  have  I  done  ?  I 
think  I  am  as  good  as  other  people."  Thus  you  continually 
resisted  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  stifled  the  voice  of  your  con 
science  amid  the  noisy  brawl  of  the  drinking-saloon  and  the 
gambling-table.  At  last,  when  conscience  ceased  to  warn 
you,  you  rejoiced,  as  the  worthless  son  rejoices  because  his 
father  is  dead  and  can  reproach  him  no  longer.  It  is  thus 
God  called  and  warned  you  ;  and  though  you  could  have 
easily  given  up  sin,  you  did  not.  Do  you  think,  then,  that 
you  will  be  able  to  give  up  sin  when  you  are  old,  when  you 
are  stretched  on  your  death-bed  ?  No,  you  will  not ;  but 
you  will  say :  "  I  have  seen  several  who  have  led  a  sinful 
life,  and  yet  on  their  death -beds  they  sent  for  a  priest,  made 
a  good  confession,  and  died  an  edifying  and  a  beautiful 
death."  Yes  !  they  died  such  a  beautiful  death.  Ah ! 
could  those  souls  return  to  earth,  they  might  tell  a  different 
tale.  May  God  preserve  us  from  such  a  beautiful  death  ! 
They  died  such  an  edifying  death.  Well,  it  may  be,  it  is  not 
impossible  ;  but,  in  truth,  it  is  very  improbable.  If  such  a 
sinner  was  really  converted  :  ai  his  death-bed,  it  was  only  by 
a  miracle  of  God's  grace  ;  and,  of  course,  miracles  are  pos 
sible,  but  they  are  not  frequent.  But  should  God  work 
such  a  miracle  for  us  ?  Why  not  expect  that  after  death  God 
will  raise  us  to  life  again,  as  He  has  raised  many  others  ? 
The  careless  Catholic,  the  infidel,  the  dishonest  man,  the 


DEL  A  T  OF  Co  N  VERSION  3^9 

drunkard,  the  member  of  the  secret  society,  the  slave  of  im 
purity,  men  who  have  despised  and  mocked  the  priest  during 
life,  are  very  willing  to  send  for  the  priest  at  the  hour  of 
death,  and  to  acknowledge  that  the  Sacraments  are  very 
useful  and  even  necessary.  But  are  we  to  understand,  by 
the  simple  act  of  sending  for  a  priest  at  the  last  moment, 
that  they  hate  sin  and  love  God  with  their  whole  heart  ? 
How  do  such  men  generally  make  their  confession  ?  One 
says  to  the  priest  :  "  0  Father  !  I  have  such  a  racking  head 
ache  I  cannot  remember  any  thing.  I  include  all  my  sins  ; 
please  give  me  absolution."  Another  says:  "I  have  no 
thing  particular  to  confess.  I  am  not  a  robber  or  murderer, 
thank  God." 

Another  loses  his  speech  and  dies,  without  being  able  to 
make  any  confession  at  all.  This  is  the  last  confession  of 
such  sinners — that  confession  on  which  depends  their  weal 
or  woe  for  all  eternity. 

It  may  be  that  the  dying  sinner  confesses  his  sins,  kisses  the 
crucifix,  and  receives  the  Sacraments; but  is  his  contrition  sin 
cere  and  supernatural  ?  Does  he  weep  for  having  offended 
God,  for  having  lost  Heaven  and  deserved  hell  ?  Not  at  all. 
lie  is  sorry  merely  because  he  must  die  so  soon,  because  he 
is  about  to  receive  the  just  punishment  of  his  crimes.  This 
is  the  case  with  the  careless  Christian  on  his  death-bed. 
Could  he  by  the  special  favor  of  God  recover  from  his  sick 
ness,  he  becomes  just  as  careless  as  ever  ;  he  goes  back  to  his 
old  habits,  he  despises  the  priest,  and  laughs  at  his  own  fears 
for  having  been  so  easily  frightened.  A  doctor  was  attending 
a  young  woman  who  had  led  a  very  unchristian  life.  Before 
her  death  she  sent  for  the  priest,  made  her  confession,  and 
received  the  last  Sacraments  with  every  sign  of  true  contri 
tion.  The  doctor  was  naturally  astonished  at  such  a  sudden 
change  in  his  patient,  and  after  the  priest  had  departed  said 
to  her  :  ' '  Are  you,  then,  really  in  earnest  ?  If  you  were  to 
recover,  would  you  really  give  up  sin  and  lead  a  virtuous 


330  MISAPPREHENSION  OF  GOD'S  MERCY: 

life  ?  "  The  woman  laughed  and  said,  "  You  must  think 
that  I  am  very  silly  ;  I  have  not  even  the  remotest  idea  of 
such  a  thing."  "  Why,  then,"  asked  the  doctor,  "did  you 
go  to  confession  and  receive  the  Sacraments  ?"  "  Oh!  you 
see,"  was  her  answer,  "  one  should  not  be  singular.  It  is 
the  custom  when  people  are  dying  to  send  for  the  priest. 
As  soon  as  I  get  well  I  will  try  to  make  up  for  all  the  time  I 
have  lost  here."  Such  sacrilegious  hypocrisy  may  fill  us 
with  horror;  but  there  are  hundreds  and  thousands  of  per 
sons  that  lead  a  bad  life  who  receive  the  last  Sacraments 
with  no  better  dispositions  than  this  woman. 

There  is  a  man  who  has  been  a  careless  Catholic  for  years 
and  years.  He  never  went  to  confession,  never  went  to  his 
Easter  duty.  He  was  a  member  of  a  secret  society.  He 
looked  with  pity  and  contempt  upon  those  who  went  regu 
larly  to  confession.  Religion,  he  thought,  was  good  enough 
for  women.  He  often  said,  especially  when  he  was  in  the 
company  of  Protestants  and  infidels,  that  one  religion  was 
as  good  as  another ;  that  it  mattered  little  what  a  man  be 
lieved,  provided  lie  was  honest.  He  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the 
words  of  the  priest.  He  was  very  much  inclined  to  think, 
too,  that  religion  was,  after  all,  an  invention  of  the  priests  ; 
t'hat  he  could  get  on  much  better  without  it.  This  man 
falls  sick  at  last ;  he  is  at  the  point  of  death.  His  friends 
and  relatives  send  for  the  priest.  The  dying  man  makes  a 
hurried  confession  ;  he  presses  the  crucifix  to  his  lips ;  he 
is  anointed ;  and  he  dies,  and  his  soul  goes  where  ?  To 
heaven  ?  Can  we  believe  that  our  Lord  will  say  to  such  a 
man  :  "  Come,  good  and  faithful  servant ;  you  have  believed 
everything  that  I  taught  through  my  holy  Church  ;  you 
have  always  loved  and  practised  your  holy  religion — enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  "  ? 

If  that  man  gets  to  heaven  so  easily,  then  those  Catholics 
who  practise  their  religion,  who  fast,  pray,  give  alms,  con 
fe»s  faithfully,  would  be  the  greatest  fools ;  all  those  con- 


DELAY  OF  CONVERSION.  331 

?erts  who  have  made  so  many  sacrifices  in  becoming  Catho 
lics  would  be  madmen.  If  it  be  so  easy  to  get  to  heaven, 
then  the  holy  martyrs  who  shed  their  blood  for  the  faith 
would  be  fools.  Those  generations  of  Irish  Catholics  who 
suffered  poverty,  and  hunger,  and  exile,  and  death,  rather 
than  deny  their  holy  faith,  were  fools  and  madmen.  If  it 
be  so  easy  to  get  to  heaven,  Catholics  may  as  well  stay  away 
from  Mass,  from  confession,  enter  as  many  secret  societies 
as  they  please,  speak  against  the  priests,  turn  Protestants, 
or  Jews,  or  infidels.  All  they  have  to  do  is  on  their  death 
bed  to  send  for  the  priest,  kiss  the  crucifix,  strike  their 
breasts,  and  after  death  they  will  go  straight  to  heaven. 
Can  we  believe  this  ? 

Another  man-has  defrauded  his  neighbor  or  the  Govern 
ment  ;  grown  rich  by  dishonest  speculation  or  by  selling 
liquor  to  drunkards.  lie  has  stolen  the  clothes  from  the 
drunkard's  wife  and  the  food  from  the  mouths  of  the 
starving  children.  At  last  he  falls  sick.  His  relatives  send 
for  the  priest.  The  dying  man  makes  a  hurried  confession  . 
he  is  anointed;  he  dies.  And  his  soul  goes  where  ?  To 
heaven  ?  What !  is  it  possible  to  think  that  he  can  restore 
in  a  few  moments  all  that  he  has  defrauded  and  stolen 
during  his  whole  life  ?  Can  we  think  that  God  will  say  to 
him:  "  Come,  good  and  faithful  servant ;  you  have  always 

been  honest,  you  have  been  faithful  even  in  little  things 

come,  I  will  place  you  over  great  tilings;  enter  into  the  joy 
of  your  Lord "  ? 

Another  man  has  spent  years  gicvelling  in  the  very  sink 
of  impurity.  He  has  defiled  soul  and  body  by  the  most 
shameful  sins.  And  now  this  moT^toj-  is  dying.  The  priest 
is  sent  for.  The  cries  of  ruined  r.ouls  are  ringing  in  the 
ears  of  the  dying  wretch.  The  ciuse  of  Jesus  Christ  is  on 
him:  "Woe  to  him  that  scandalizes  one  of  these  little 
ones.  It  were  better  that  a  millstme  were  tied  around  his 
neck,  and  that  he  were  drowned  Mrc  a  dog  in  the  depths 


332  MISAPPREHENSION  OF  GOD'S  MERCT. 

of  the  sea."  The  priest  may  bless  the  dying  man  ;  he 
may  sprinkle  holy-water  around  him;  he  may  pronounce 
the  words  of  absolution  ;  but  the  dying  sinner  hears  around 
him  the  mocking  laughter  of  demons.  The  priest  of  God 
anoints  him,  presses  the  crucifix  to  his  lips,  prays  for  him, 
weeps  for  him.  He  is  dead.  He  is  judged.  His  soul  is  in 
^eternity.  Is  it  saved  ?  Is  it  in  heaven  ?  What  !  will  God 
'say  to  that  polluted  soul  :  "  Come,  good  and  faithful  ser 
vant;  you  have  preserved  your  baptismal  innocence  ;  you 
have  kept  soul  and  body  pure  and  un defiled — come,  enter 
then  into  the  joy  of  the  blessed  "  <f 

Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves  any  longer.  To  make  a  good 
confession,  to  be  truly  sorry  for  all  our  sins,  to  detest  them 
sincerely,  to  be  firmly  resolved  never  to  commit  them  again, 
to  undergo  cheerfully  all  the  punishments  due  to  them — 
all  these  are  pure,  free  gifts  of  God.  Now,  the  Lord  has 
called  us  so  many  times  to  repentance,  and  as  many  times 
have  we  refused  to  hearken  to  his  calls.  He  has  sent  us  so 
many  warnings,  and  we  have  as  often  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 
them  all.  We  have,  then,  good  reason  to  believe  that  the 
measure  of  our  sins  is  nearly  filled  up.  We  have  just  as 
good  reason  to  believe  that  the  number  of  graces  needed  to 
work  out  our  salvation  may  be  soon  exhausted.  If  we  do 
not  profit  by  the  few  that  may  be  left,  we  shall  infallibly  be 
lost.  The  grace  of  God  has  its  moments.  Its  light  shines 
and  disappears.  The  Lord  approaches  and  withdraws.  He 
speaks  and  is  silent.  Master  of  His  gifts,  He  attaches 
them  to  such  conditions  as  He  chooses.  Such  is  the  ordi 
nary  cause  of  His  providence.  Choice  graces  are,  generally 
speaking,  a  recompense  for  faithful  correspondence  with 
preceding  graces.  If  we  do  not  correspond  with  them,  we 
become  unworthy  of  greater  favors.  To  what  a  degree  of 
sanctity  and  happiness  may  we  not  be  raised  by  a  moment 
of  grace  well  used  !  But  a  moment  of  grace  neglected  may 
also  cast  us  to  the  bottom  of  the  abyss. 


DELAY  OF  CONVERSION.  333 

Abraham  will  be  blessed  for  ever  for  having  been  faithful 
to  the  command  of  God  to  sacrifice  his  son  Isaac;  and 
Saul  will  be  a  reprobate  for  ever  for  not  having  obeyed,  on 
one  occasion,  the  voice  of  the  Lord. 

What  would  have  become  of  David,  of  St.  Peter,  of  St. 
Mary  Magdalen,  had  they  not  profited  by  the  favorable  op 
portunity,  by  the  moment  of  grace,  which  was  for  them  the 
moment  of  salvation  ?  Happy  would  Jerusalem  have  been 
had  it  still  made  a  good  use  of  the  last  day  of  grace  which 
the  Lord  gave  it.  It  was  her  day:  In  hac  die  tua — "  In  this 
thy  day."*  But  this  indocile  people  shut  their  eyes  in  or 
der  not  to  see  at  all.  They  still  resisted  the  impulses  of 
grace,  the  tender  invitations  of  God's  mercy.  They  let  the 
decisive  moment  pass  away.  Hence  their  blindness  and 
their  misfortune  for  all  eternity.  "  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem, 
who  killest  the  prophets  and  stonest  them  that  are  sent  to 
thee  for  thy  salvation,  how  often  have  I  wished,  by  my 
preaching,  by  my  example,  by  my  miracles,  by  my  promises, 
by  my  threats,  and  by  all  possible  means,  to  gather  thy 
children,  to  draw  them  to  myself  with  tenderness  and  affec 
tion,  as  the  hen  doth  gather  her  chickens  under  her  wings 
when  she  sees  them  pursued  by  a  bird  of  prey,  and  thou 
wouldst  not.  To  punish  thine  infidelity,  I  abandon  thee  to 
the  fury  of  thine  enemies.  Thy  habitation  shall  be  made 
desolate."  f  Jesus  says,  "  How  often" — behold  the  number 
of  graces  given  for  thy  salvation ;  "  Thou  wouldst  not" — 
behold  the  refusal  of  man;  "Thou  shalt  be  deserted" — 
behold  his  reprobation  and  chastisement. 

Let  us  turn  our  eyes  for  a  moment  to  the  heights  of  Cal 
vary.  We  see  there  three  crosses  erected.  On  the  middle 
cross  hangs  Jesus  Christ,  the  Redeemer  of  the  world,  while 
two  thieves  are  hanging  beside  him,  one  on  the  right  hand, 
and  one  on  the  left.  Jesus  created  these  two  men.  He 
created  them  in  love.  He  created  them  for  heaven.  He 

*  Luke  adr.  43.  +  Matt.  amii.  37. 


334          MISAPPREHENSION  OF  GOD'S  MERCY: 

died  for  both.  He  slied  His  heart's  blood  to  redeem  the  one 
as  well  as  the  other.  He  offered  grace  and  forgiveness  to 
the  one  as  well  as  to  the  other.  Both  men  were  great  crimi 
nals.  They  were,  as  Holy  Writ  assures  us,  highway  robbers 
and  murderers.*  Both  were  seized  and  cast  into  prison; 
both  were  condemned  to  the  death  of  the  cross ;  both  were 
actually  dying  in  the  very  presence  and  by  the  side  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Both  are  dying;  and  both  of  them  are  still  blas 
pheming,  even  with  their  dying  breath.  They  are  blasphem 
ing  the  God  who  created  them;  they  are  blaspheming  the  Re 
deemer  who  is  bleeding  and  dying  for  them  ;  they  are  blas 
pheming  the  eternal  Judge  who  in  a  few  moments  will  de 
cide  their  fate  for  all  eternity. 

These  two  sinners  are  dying  by  the  very  side  of  that  loving 
Redeemer  who  prays  aloud  even  for  his  murderers.  They  are 
both  witnesses  of  the  wonderful  patience,  the  God-like 
meekness,  of  Jesus  in  the  midst  of  His  sufferings,  as  well  as 
of  the  extraordinary  miracles  that  accompany  His  death  and 
attest  His  divinity.  They  see  the  sun  grow  dark  at  mid 
day  ;  they  see  the  earth  shaken  and  the  rocks  rent  asunder  ; 
they  see  the  graves  burst  open  and  the  dead  come  forth  to 
bear  witness  to  the  divinity  of  Him  who  hangs  between 
them  on  the  cross. 

And  now  for  each  of  these  sinners  the  decisive  moment 
has  come — that  awful  moment  on  which  depends  their  eternal 
salvation  or  eternal  damnation.  Up  to  this  moment  the 
lives  of  both  have  been  much  alike.  They  have  walked  the 
same  path  of  sin,  they  have  received  the  same  graces,  they 
have  shared  the  same  punishment  ;  and  now  at  the  last  mo 
ment  comes  a  change.  One  of  the  criminals  opens  his  heart 
to  the  grace  of  God,  while  the  other  wilfully  rejects  it. 
One  corresponds  with  the  last  impulse  of  grace  ;  the  other  re 
mains  cold,  hardened,  and  impenitent.  Henceforth  their  lot 
is  entirely  different.  "  One  is  taken  and  the  other  is  left" 
*  Luke  TCTiii.  88. 


DELAY  OF  CONVERSION.  335 

God  ordered  Josue  to  command  the  priests  to  go  seven 
times  around  Jericho,  sounding  trumpets  of  jubilee — that  is, 
of  penance  and  pardon — and  bearing  the  Ark  of  the  Cove 
nant,  wherein  were  kept  the  tables  of  the  law,  some  manna, 
and  the  rod  of  Moses;  assuring  him  that  at  the  seventh 
time  the  walls  would  fall  of  themselves ;  that  he  should 
enter  the  city  with  his  army,  put  all  the  inhabitants  to 
death,  and  burn  it  entirely,  pronouncing  a  malediction 
against  him  who  would  attempt  to  rebuild  it. 

God  here  shows  us  how  He  goes  around  oar  hearts  a  cer 
tain  number  of  times,  how  lie  causes  to  resound  in  our  ears 
the  trumpets  of  jubilee — that  is  to  say,  interior  and  exterior 
graces.  He  uses  the  manna  of  consolation  to  attract  us, 
and  the  rod  of  His  paternal  chastisement  to  correct  us ;  but 
after  these  tours  of  mercy,  if  the  sinner  is  not  converted, 
the  last  tour  finished — that  is,  the  last  grace  given — he  is 
abandoned  to  justice  and  condemned  to  eternal  fire. 

St.  Bonaventure  relates  that  a  rich  man  of  a  very  dis 
orderly  life,  named  Gedeon,  was  attacked  with  a  most  dan 
gerous  illness,  of  which  it  was  expected  he  would  die.  He 
had  recourse  to  St.  Francis,  who  by  his  prayers  cured  him, 
at  the  same  time  warning  him  to  change  his  life,  lest  some 
thing  worse  should  befall  him.  This  wholesome  warning. 
his  health  miraculously  restored,  the  sickness,  were  three 
graces  from  God  to  him  for  his  salvation;  but  the  unhappy 
man  abused  them.  No  sooner  had  he  recovered  his  strength 
than  he  relapsed  into  his  former  disorders.  But  by  a  just 
chastisement  of  God  it  happened  that  while  asleep  in  his 
bed  the  roof  of  his  house  suddenly  fell  in,  and  he  awoke  in 
the  eternal  flames  of  hell. 

We  may  rest  assured  that  if  we  do  not  now  correspond  to 
the  grace  of  God,  if  we  do  not  follow  the  good  thoughts,  the 
holy  inspirations,  the  remorse  of  conscience,  the  invitation 
of  the  priest,  the  entreaty  of  our  friends,  but  continue  to 
despise  all  these  graces,  God  will  at  last  withdraw  His  effi- 


336          MISAPPREHENSION  OF  GOD'S  MERCT: 

cacious  graces  f  rom  us,  and  leave  us  only  sufficient  graces  by 
means  of  which  we  may  possibly  work  out  our  salvation,  but 
will  not  do  so.  Then  follows  a  reprobate  sense.  The  un 
derstanding  becomes  darkened,  the  will  grows  weak  and 
stubborn  to  good,  the  heart  is  hardened.  We  no  longer  see 
our  danger,  we  care  not  for  God's  threats,  we  are  as  insen 
sible  as  a  corpse.  When  the  impious  man  falls  into  the 
depths  of  iniquity,  he  despises,  says  Holy  Scripture,*  he 
laughs  at  everything  sacred,  at  the  most  serious  warnings 
and  menaces  of  God,  at  eternal  torments.  All  seems  to  him 
imposture  ;  he  grows  bolder  as  he  goes  on,  and  even  rejoices 
in  the  evil  he  commits.  Melted  wax  resumes  its  hardness 
when  it  is  removed  from  the  fire,  because  it  is  no  longer  ex 
posed  to  the  heat  of  the  fire,  which  caused  it  to  melt.  In 
like  manner,  by  putting  off  our  conversion  we  place  our 
understanding  and  will  in  so  dangerous  a  state  that  they 
are  no  longer  sensible  to  the  impressions  of  grace,  which 
they  formerly  received  so  easily.  By  opposing  the  move 
ments  of  grace  we  become  too  weak  to  be  able  to  obey  thoso 
movements  when  they  come,  even  though  they  should  of 
themselves  be  strong  enough  to  touch  the  heart. 

What  a  fearful  thing  it  is  to  persist  in  resisting  the  grace 
of  God !  Those  who  do  so  incur  the  further  danger  of  re 
jecting  the  decisive  grace,  throwing  away  the  final  moment 
on  which  depends  their  eternal  well-being.  Would  that 
men  could  be  brought  to  reflect  seriously  on  this  great  truth  ! 
But  it  is  what  they  least  think  of,  though  they  stand  every 
moment  on  the  threshold  of  eternity.  Certainly,  he  who, 
with  closed  eyes,  should  run  and  dance  on  the  brink  of  a 
frightful  precipice,  would  deservedly  pass  for  a  fool,  because 
he  invites  a  horrible  death.  Yet  the  greater  part  of  men 
are  no  wiser ;  for  they  pay  so  little  or  no  attention  at  all  co 
what  will  be  their  eternal  fate.  They  fear  to  lose  their 
wealth,  their  friends,  their  honor ;  they  are  afraid  of  the 
*  Prov.  xvii.  3. 


PEL  AT  OF  CONVERSION.  33? 

passing  sorrows  of  this  life  ;  but  they  never  tremble  to  con 
template  the  frightful  torments  of  the  next.  Dives  began 
Lo  think  of  heaven  only  when  he  was  irrevocably  plunged 
m...  ^ell  by  his  crimes.  Need  we  wonder  at  what  we  read 
in  the  Gospel:  "Wide  is  the  gate  and  broad  the  way  that 
leadeth  to  perdition  ;  and  many  there  are  that  enter  it. 
How  narrow  is  the  gate  and  strait  the  way  that  leadeth  to 
life,  and  how  few  there  are  that  find  it."  *  These  terrible 
words  were  spoken  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  Himself.  They 
are,  therefore,  infallibly  true,  and  confirm  what  our  Lord 
said  on  another  occasion :  "  Many  are  called,  but  few  are 
chosen."  God  has  indeed  the  greatest  desire  to  save  all 
men ;  yet  all  are  not  saved.  He  made  heaven  for  all,  yet 
all  will  not  enter  into  it. 

One  day  St.  John  Ohrysostom  preached  in  the  city  of  Con 
stantinople.  "  How  many  in  this  city,"  said  he  to  his  hear 
ers,  "  do  you  think  will  be  saved  ?  How  shall  I  answer  the 
dreadful  question,  or  ought  I  to  answer  it  at  all  ?  Among 
the  thousands  of  men  and  women  who  throng  this  city,  per 
haps  hardly  a  hundred  will  be  saved.  And  would  to  God 
that  I  were  certain  of  the  salvation  of  so  many  !" 

We  read  that  when  St.  Bernard  died,  a  holy  anchorite, 
who  died  at  the  same  time,  appeared  to  the  Bishop  of  Lan- 
gres,  and  told  him  that  thirty  thousand  men  had  died  at  the 
same  moment,  and  that  only  St.  Bernard  and  himself,  who 
had  gone  straight  to  heaven,  and  three  souls  who  had  been 
sent  to  purgatory,  were  saved  out  of  that  vast  number. 

A  man  who  had  died  from  the  violence  of  his  contrition 
was  afterwards  restored  to  life  by  the  prayers  of  a  holy  reli 
gious.  He  said  that  sixty  thousand  souls  from  all  parts  of  the 
earth  were  presented  with  him  before  the  divine  tribunal  to 
be  judged,  arid  that  only  three  of  them  were  sent  to  purga 
tory,  and  all  the  rest  were  condemned  to  eternal  torments. 

A  doctor  of  the  University  of  Paris  appeared,  after  hii 
*  Matt,  vli  18. 


838  MISAPPREHENSION  OF  (TOD'S  MERCY: 

death,  to  the  bishop  of  that  city,  and  told  him  that  he  waa 
damned.  The  bishop  asked  him  if  there  was  any  know 
ledge  in  hell.  The  unhappy  wretch  answered  that  he  only 
knew  three  things :  1.  That  he  was  eternally  damned.  2. 
That  his  sentence  was  irrevocable.  3.  That  he  was  eter 
nally  condemned  for  the  pleasures  of  the  world  and  tin- 
body.  Then  he  asked  the  bishop  "  if  there  were  still  mer 
in  the  world."  "Why? "asked  the  bishop.  "Because," 
eaid  he,  "  during  these  days  so  many  souls  have  fallen  into 
hell  that  I  thought  there  could  not  be  many  more  remain 
ing." 

Alas  !  the  number  of  those  who  follow  their  passions  and 
unruly  appetites,  who  constantly  transgress  the  command 
ments  of  God,  is  considerably  greater  than  the  number  of 
those  who  comply  with  their  religious  duties.  "  How  can  you 
be  astonished  if  I  say  that  few  will  be  saved,"  asks  St. 
John  Chrysostom,  "  when  you  see  so  many  wicked  in  youth, 
ind  so  many  others  negligent  and  lukewarm  in  old  age  ? 
What  vanity  among  women,  what  avarice  among  merchants, 
what  pride  among  the  learned,  what  injustice  among  the 
judges,  what  corruption  in  all  !" 

God  does  not  wish  to  save  man  by  force.  He  does  not 
wish  to  destroy  the  nature  of  things,  but  to  preserve  it. 
He  allows  the  nature  of  each  being  to  act  in  the  way  that 
being  wills.  He  made  man  a  free  being  ;  He  endowed  him 
with  a  twofold  liberty — with  the  liberty  to  labor  for  his  sal 
vation  or  for  his  damnation.  He  therefore  does  not  com 
pel  men  to  accept  salvation  against  their  will.  Where  i? 
the  man  who  drags  another,  in  spite  of  himself,  to  his  ban 
quet  ?  This  would  be  offering  an  outrage  instead  of  con 
ferring  an  honor.  People  are  punished  against  their  will, 
but  they  are  not  rewarded  in  like  manner.  Reward  is  given 
to  merit,  and  we  cannot  acquire  merit  unless  we  are  willing 
to  take  pains  to  acquire  it. 

All  who  are  sent  to  hell  are  sent  there  against  their  will  5 


DELAY  OF  CONVERSION.  339 

out  heaven  is  open  only  to  those  who  wish  to  enter  there, 
and  who  strive  earnestly  for  their  salvation. 

As  long,  then,  as  we  put  off  our  confession  and  live  in  sin, 
we  shall  continue  to  be  the  enemies  of  God ;  and  if  we  die 
in  that  state,  we  shall  infallibly  be  lost.  The  moment,  how 
ever,  that  we  give  up  sin  and  make  a  good  confession,  our 
sins  are  washed  away,  and  we  become  children  of  God.  Why, 
then,  do  we  wait  ?  Why  do  we  hesitate  ?  Why  do  we  put 
off  our  confession  till  to-morrow,  when  we  can  make  it  so 
easily  to-day  ?  God  offers  us  pardon  arid  grace  now ;  we 
have  time  and  ability  to  make  a  good  confession.  To-mor 
row,  perhaps,  it  will  be  no  longer  in  our  power  to  do  so ;  we 
may  be  in  eternity.  Now  is  the  acceptable  time,  now  is  the 
time  of  salvation.  If  we  will  do  penance  now,  God  will  ac 
cept  it.  Our  dear  Saviour  now  knocks  at  the  doors  of  our 
hearts  ;  He  calls  us,  He  entreats  us  to  return  to  His  friend 
ship.  He  promises  to  forgive  us  everything  if  we  come  to 
Him  with  a  contrite  heart.  We  can  still  pray,  we  can  ex 
amine  our  conscience,  we  can  confess  our  sins  ;  and  the  priest 
is  awaiting  us  in  the  confessional  with  a  compassionate 
heart.  Let  us  listen  to  the  voice  of  our  friends  and  relatives, 
who  love  us  ;  to  the  voice  of  the  priest,  who  wishes  us  well ; 
to  the  voice  of  our  conscience,  which  is  the  voice  of  God. 
Let  us  not  resist  that  voice  any  longer,  otherwise  it  will  be. 
come  silent,  and  then  woe  to  us  !  what  will  become  of  us  ? 
We  have  now  every  reason  to  hope  for  forgiveness ;  if  we  delay 
longer,  our  hope  will  be  turned  into  despair.  Now  the  grace 
of  God  enlightens  our  mind  and  touches  our  heart.  Let  us 
not  resist  that  grace,  which  has  been  purchased  for  us  by  the 
tears  and  by  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ.  If  we  hesitate 
longer,  this  grace  will  pass  away,  never  to  return. 

He  who  does  penance  only  in  his  old  age  or  on  a  death 
bed,  when  he  can  sin  no  longer,  when  the  world  rejects  and 
despises  -him — such  a  one  has  every  reason  to  fear  that  his 
penance  is  insincere  and  worthless,  because  his  penance  is 


340          MISAPPREHENSION  or  GOD'S  MERCY. 

not  free  ;  it  is  only  prompted  by  natural,  slavish  fear.  On 
the  contrary,  if  we  do  penance  while  we  have  the  power  to 
commit  sin,  while  the  world,  with  its  sinful  pleasures,  invites 
us,  we  show  clearly  that  we  are  in  earnest ;  we  have  every 
reason  to  hope  for  pardon ;  and  the  thought  of  so  noble  a 
deed  will  be  our  greatest  consolation  at  the  dread  hour  of 
death.  Is  it  so  very  agreeable,  so  very  honorable,  to  be  a 
slave  of  the  de-vil,  to  be  bound  by  the  chains  of  the  most 
shameful  sins,  the  most  degrading  passions  ?  Is  it  prudent, 
is  it  reasonable,  to  live  thus  longer  in  mortal  sin,  when'we 
know  that  every  moment  may  be  our  last,  and  that,  if  we  die 
as  we  stand,  we  shall  infallibly  be  lost  ?  Let  us  show 
that  we  are  not  cowards;  that  we  can  trample  human  respect 
under  foot ;  that  we  dare  practise  openly  the  dictates  of  our 
conscience ;  that  we  are  humble  and  honest  enough  to  go  to 
confession,  no  matter  what  others  may  think  or  say  about 
us.  And  even  if  we  cannot  finish  our  confession  at  once,  it 
is  well  to  make  at  least  a  beginning.  We  shall  find  that  it 
is  not  so  difficult  a  thing  as  we  imagine.  Arise  !  then ; 
delay  no  longer.  "  Now  is  the  acceptable  time,  now  is  the 
day  of  salvation." 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE   ROAD    HOMEWAPD-  -7  INSTITUTION   OF    CONFESSIOK. 


a  pious  missionary  was  one  day  travelling  in  one 
of  the  wildest  regions  of  North  America,  he  stopped 
at  the  principal  villages,  and  often  found  in  them  savages 
whom  grace  brought  to  him  from  a  considerable  distance. 
He  instructed  them,  baptized  those  whom  he  thought  well 
Disposed,  and  then  went  on  his  way  to  other  places.  On 
•me  occasion  an  Indian  full  of  fervor  presented  himself. 
4s  soon  as  he  was  well  instructed  in  our  holy  religion,  the 
missionary  baptized  him  and  gave  him  Holy  Communion. 

A  year  after  the  missionary  returned  to  the  place  where 
tiiis  Indian  convert  dwelt.  As  soon  as  the  latter  was  aware 
of  the  missionary's  arrival,  he  ran  to  throw  himself  at  his 
feet.  He  knew  not  how  to  express  his  joy  in  seeing  again 
lim  who  had  begotten  him  to  Jesus  Christ.  He  entreated 
the  father  to  grant  him  once  more  the  happiness  he  had 
made  him  enjoy  the  year  before.  "  Of  what  happiness  .do 
you  speak?"  asks  the  missionary.  "Ah  !  my  father,  do 
you  not  know  ?  The  happiness  of  receiving  the  Body  of  my 
God  ?  "  "  Most  willingly,  my  child  ;  but  first  you  must  go 
to  confession.  Have  you  examined  your  conscience  well  ?  " 
"  Father,  I  examined  it  every  day,  as  you  charged  me  to 
do  last  year."  "In  that  case,  kneel  down,  and  declare 
to  me  the  faults  into  which  you  may  have  fallen  since  your 
baptism."  "  What  faults,  father?"  "Why,  the  grave 
faults  you  may  have  wilfully  committed  against  the  com 
mandments  of  God  and  the  Church."  "Grave  faults?" 
answered  the  Indian,  all  amazed.  "  Can  any  one  offend 


342  THE  ROAD  HOMEWARD: 

God  after  they  are  baptized,  and  especially  after  having 
received  Communion  ?  Is  there  anywhere  a  Christian 
capable  of  such  ingratitude  ?  "  Saying  these  words,  he  burst 
into  tears,  and  the  missionary  too  could  not  help  weeping 
as  lie  blessed  God  for  having  prepared  for  Himself,  even 
in  the  remotest  places,  worshippers  who  may  indeed  be 
called  worshippers  in  spirit  and  in  truth.* 

After  having  become  by  baptism  children  of  God  and 
tabernacles  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  we  should  cease  to  offend 
Almighty  God.  After  the  pardon  granted  in  baptism,  it 
would  be  but  justice  to  sin  no  more.  It  would  be  a  pleasing 
sight  to  see  the  child  grow  up  to  manhood  and  old  age,  and 
bear  unsullied  with  him  to  heaven  the  white  robe  of  his 
first  innocence.  Yet  how  small  is  the  number  of  those 
happy  Christians  who  never  commit  a  mortal  sin  !  Such  is 
the  weakness,  such  is  the  wretchedness,  of  human  nature  ! 
Alas  !  what  a  misfortune  for  a  soul  to  lose  her  baptismal  in 
nocence.  The  purity  of  that  first  innocence  is  so  spotless 
that  all  other  purity  seems  tarnished,  as  it  were,  in  compa 
rison  with  it. 

Were  God  to  punish  us  immediately  after  we  have  fallen 
into  sin, what  would  become  of  us  ?  But  the  infinite  good 
ness  and  mercy  of  God  have  prepared  a  road  for  His  prodi 
gal  child,  for  every  poor  sinner  to  return  to  His  friendship. 
The  Sacrament  of  Penance  is  this  blessed  road  on  which  God 
stretches  out  His  merciful  hand  to  the  repentant  prodigal  as 
a  sign  of  pardon  and  that  He  will  change  the  soiled  robe 
for  a  new  garment  of  innocence. 

But  this  duty  of  confessing  our  sins  seems  a  hard  one  to 
fulfil,  and  for  this  reason  unbelievers,  heretics,  and  bad  Ca 
tholics  object  to  confession.  It  is  a  doctrine  of  the  Holj 
Catholic  Church  that  we  must  either  confess  our  sins  01 
burn  in  hell.  There  is  no  other  alternative.  Listen  to  the 
words  of  the  Holy  Church  :  "If  any  one  says  that  it  is  not 
*  Debussi,  Nouv.  Mois  de  Marie,  135. 


INSTITUTION  OF  CONFESSION.  343 

necessary  to  confess  all  and  every  mortal  sin,  ev  en  the  most 
secret  sins — all  that  one  can  call  to  mind  after  a  diligent  ex- 
amen — let  the  same  be  anathema  ;  let  him  be  accursed." 
This  alone  is  sufficient  proof  for  every  good  Catholic ;  for 
the  voice  of  the  Church  is  the  voice  of  God. 

The  practice  of  confession  is  as  old  as  the  world  itself. 
The  first  person  to  hear  confession  was  Almighty  God  Him 
self.  The  first  sin  that  was  ever  committed  on  earth  had  to 
be  confessed  before  it  was  pardoned,  and  Gou  pardoned  no 
one  without  confession.  Our  first  parents,  Adam  and  Eve, 
ate  of  the  forbidden  fruit,  and  thereby  committed  a  mortal 
sin.  Almighty  God  called  Adam  to  account ;  Adam  con 
fessed  his  crime.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  did  indeed  eat  of  the 
fruit,  but  it  was  my  wife  that  gave  it  to  me."  Eve  also  con 
fessed  her  crime,  and  put  the  blame  on  the  serpent:  "  I  did 
eat  the  fruit,"  said  she,  "but  it  was  the  serpent  that  de 
ceived  me."  Our  first  parents  confessed  their  sin,  they  re 
pented  of  it,  and  God  pardoned  them,  and  even  promised 
them  a  Redeemer. 

Cain  also  committed  a  mortal  sin  :  he  murdered  his  inno 
cent  brother.  But  Cain  refused  to  confess  his  crime,  and 
God  granted  him  no  pardon.  God  called  Cain  to  account, 
and  asked  him  :  "  Where  is  thy  brother  Abel  ?  "  And  Cain 
answered  impudently  :  "  I  know  not  ;  have  I  then  to  keep 
watch  over  my  brother?"  And  God  cursed  Cain,  and  seta 
mark  upon  his  brow,  that  he  might  serve  as  a  warning  to 
all  men. 

God  not  only  heard  confession  Himself,  but  he  gave  a 
positive  command  requiring  confession  of  sins.  It  would  be 
tedious  to  cite  all  the  passages  of  the  Old  Testament  where 
in  this  command  is  clearly  specified.  One  alone  is  suffici 
ent  :  "  Whosoever  shall  commit  a  sin  and  carelessly  transgress 
the  commandments  of  God,  the  same  shall  confess  his  sin 
and  restore."*  Moreover,  the  Jews  were  commanded  to 
*  Numbers  v.  6,  7  ;  Lev.  xxvi.  40 ;  Prov.  xxvili.  18. 


844  THE  ROAD  HOMEWARD  : 

bring  an  offering  according  to  the  nature  of  their  sins  ;  f ot 
each  sin  had  its  own  specified  offering.  It  is  then  clear  that 
they  had  to  confess  their  sins  to  the  priests,  that  he  might  be 
able  to  offer  the  suitable  sacrifice. 

Not  only  the  priests  of  the  Old  Law,  but  the  prophets  also, 
heard  confession.  King  David  committed  a  grievous  crime. 
In  order  to  gratify  a  sinful  passion  he  put  an  innocent  man 
to  death,  and  then  took  away  that  man's  wife.  God  sent 
his  prophet  to  the  king  to  upbraid  him  for  his  wickedness, 
and  the  prophet  related  to  the  king  the  following  touching 
parable  :  "There  lived,"  said  he,  i(  in  a  certain  city  two 
men  ;  the  one  was  rich,  the  other  was  poor.  The  rich 
man  had  a  great  many  sheep  and  oxen,  but  the  poor  man 
had  nothing  at  all  but  a  little  lamb  he  had  bought  at  a  great 
price.  He  nourished  it  with  great  care.  It  grew  up  in  his 
house  with  his  children ;  it  ate  of  his  bread,  it  drank  of 
his  cup,  it  slept  in  his  bosom,  and  he  loved  it  as  a  daughter. 
Now,  a  stranger  came  one  day  to  the  house  of  the  rich 
man,  and  there  was  a  great  feast.  But  the  rich  man  spared 
his  own  sheep  and  oxen,  and  took  the  poor  man's  lamb  ;  he 
killed  it,  and  served  it  up  to  the  stranger."  King  David, 
on  hearing  this,  was  exceedingly  angry,  and  he  cried  out : 
"  I  swear  by  the  living  God  that  the  man  that  has  done  this 
deed  shall  die,  and  shall  restore  the  lamb  fourfold ;  for  he 
has  had  no  mercy."  Then  the  prophet,  looking  sternly  at 
the  king,  cried  out  :  "  Thou  art  the  man ;  it  is  thou  who 
hast  done  this  deed.  Listen  now  to  the  word  of  the  Lord 
thy  God  :  I  have  anointed  thee  king,  I  have  delivered  thee 
from  the  hands  of  thine  enemies,  I  have  given  thee  thy 
master's  house  and  possession  ;  and  if  these  were  little,  I 
would  have  bestowed  upon  thee  far  greater  gifts.  Why, 
then,  hast  thou  despised  me,  thy  Lord  and  God,  and 
murdered  an  innocent  man,  and  taken  away  his  wife  ? 
And  now,  because  thou  hast  done  this  deed,  the  sword  shall 
destroy  thy  children ;  I  will  raise  up  evil  against  thee  out 


INSTITUTION  OF  CONFESSION.  345 

of  th;ne  own  house.  Thou  hast  dishonored  me  in  secret ; 
but  I  will  dishonor  thee  and  thy  household  in  the  sight  of 
the  sun,  before  the  eyes  of  the  whole  world  ;  and  this  thy 
child,  the  fruit  of  thy  sin,  shall  die."  On  hearing  this, 
King  David  was  terrified  and  conscience-stricken.  He 
humbled  himself  before  God  and  His  prophet,  and  con 
fessed  his  sin,  and  the  prophet,  seeing  the  king's  repentance, 
pardoned  him  in  the  name  of  God.  "  Now  God  has  taken 
away  thy  sin,"  said  the  prophet,  "  thou  shalt  not  die." 

The  example  of  the  great  St.  John  the  Baptist,  the  last 
prophet  of  the  Old  Testament  and  the  first  of  the  New  Law, 
shows  us  more  clearly  how  customary  it  was  among  the 
Jews  to  confess  their  sins.  The  Evangelist  says  that  the 
"  people  came  to  St.  John  from  all  directions,  and  he  bap 
tized  them,  and  they  confessed  their  sins."*  Even  at  the 
present  day  the  practice  of  confession  still  exists  among  the 
Jews  in  many  parts  of  the  world. 

Confession,  then,  was  in  use  in  the  Old  Law,  but  it  was 
and  is  also  in  the  New  Law.  Men  sinned  in  the  Old  Law ; 
men  sin  also  in  the  New.  Our  Blessed  Saviour  Jesus  Christ 
tells  us  expressly  that  He  came  not  to  destroy  the  law,  but 
to  perfect  it.f  When  our  divine  Saviour  came  on  earth, 
confession  of  sin  was  already  in  use  not  only  among  the 
Jews,  but  also  among  the  heathens.  That  confession  was 
in  use  among  the  heathens  is  a  fact  proved  by  such  abundant 
and  such  incontestable  evidence,  that  to  deny  it  is  to 
betray  a  very  gross  ignorance  of  history.  It  is  an  undenia 
ble  fact  that  confession  was  in  practice  among  the  pagans 
of  Greece  and  Rome.  No  one,  not  even  the  emperor  him 
self,  could  be  initiated  into  their  mysteries  without  first  con 
fessing  his  sins  to  one  of  their  priests.  In  Egypt,  in  Judea, 
in  China,  in  Peru,  the  same  practice  of  confession  was 
strictly  observed.  Even  at  the  present  day,  confession  is 
practised  among  many  heathen  nations.  In  China,  iu 
*  Matt,  ill  6.  *  Matty.  17. 


346  THE  ROAD  HOMEWARD: 

Thibet,  in  Siam,  in  Judea,  in  Persia,  the  heathens  still 
confess  their  sins  to  their  heathen  priests,  just  as  they  did 
two  thousand  years  ago.  Not  only  the  Jews,  then,  but  the 
heathens  also,  confessed  their  sins. 

Our  divine  Saviour  perfected  this  universal  custom,  this 
express  law,  of  confession  by  raising  it  to  the  dignity  of  a 
sacrament,  and  thereby  rendered  it  even  still  more  binding. 
It  is  this  circumstance,  and  this  alone,  that  can  account  for 
the  remarkable  fact  that  the  sacrament  of  confession  never 
met  with  any  opposition  either  on  the  part  of  the  Jews  or 
on  the  part  of  the  heathens.  It  appeared  quite  natural  to 
them,  for  they  had  been  accustomed  to  it  e^en  from  the 
beginning  of  the  world. 

God  Himself  heard  confession  in  the  Old  Law;  God  Him 
self  also,  the  Son  of  God,  our  Blessed  Saviour  Jesus  Christ, 
heard  confession  in  the  New  Law. 

It  was  about  noon,  one  warm  summer's  day,  that  our 
divine  Saviour  came  with  his  disciples  to  the  well  of  Jacob, 
not  far  from  the  town  of  Sichar,  in  Samaria.  Hungry,  and 
thirsty,  and  footsore  from  his  long  journeys  in  search  of 
erring  souls,  He  sat  down  beside  the  well,  whilst  his  disci 
ples  went  into  the  city  to  buy  food.  And  Jesus  sat  there 
all  alone  beside  the  well,  his  head  resting  on  his  hand. 
There  was  an  expression  of  longing  desire  on  His  divine 
countenance,  for  He  expected  some  one.  And  a  certain 
woman  came  out  of  the  city  to  draw  water.  Jesus  said  to 
her :-"  Give  me  a  drink."  The  woman  was  surprised  and 
touched  by  the  great  condescension,  for  the  Jews  despised 
and  hated  the  Samaritans.  "How  is  it,"  said  she,  "that 
you  who  are  a  Jew  ask  a  drink  of  me  who  am  a  Samaritan  ? 
for  the  Jews  do  never  associate  with  us  Samaritans." 
"Woman,"  answered  Jesus,  "if  you  knew  the  gift  that  I 
have  to  bestow,  if  you  knew  who  I  am  that  speak  to  you,  you 
would  ask  a  drink  of  me,  and  I  would  give  you  living 
water."  "  Good  sir,"  said  the  woman,  "  you  have  no  vessel 


INSTITUTION  OF  CONFESSION.  347 

here  and  the  well  is  deep,  how  then  can  you  give  me  this 

living  water  ?"  Jesus  answered  :  "  Whoever  drinks  of  this 
water  shall  thirst  again,  but  he  that  drinks  of  the  water  I 
have  to  give,  shall  not  thirst  for  ever.  Yea,  it  shall  become 
in  him  a^fountain  of  living  water,  springing  up  into  eternal 
life."  Now  came  the  moment  for  which  Jesus  had  sighed 
and  waited  with  such  anxiety.  This  poor  woman  felt  in 
her  heart  a  great  desire  to  drink  of  this  living  water. 

'  Good  sir,"  said  she,  "give  me  this  water,  that  I  may  not 
thirst  any  more,  and  then  I  need  not  come  here  to  this 
well."  This  is  the  course  which  the  Saviour  always  pur 
sues  in  winning  souls.  He  first  awakens  in  the  heart  of  the 
sinner  a  great  desire  to  receive  His  graces,  and  then  He 
purifies  his  soul,  and  shows  him  his  own  misery,  and  thus 
prepares  him  for  his  graces. 

^  The  Samaritan  woman  begged  Jesus  to  give  her  this 
living  water,  and  Jesus  immediately  said  to  her  :  "Go  and 
call  your  husband."  A  strange  command.  Where,  one 
might  ask,  is  the  connection  here  ?  The  woman  asks  for 
the  living  water,  and  Jesus  tells  her  to  go  and  call  her 
husband.  Now  begins  this  poor  woman's  confession. 
"  Call  your  husband,"  said  Jesus.  The  woman  cast  down 
her  eyes  and  answered  quietly  :  "  Good  sir,  I  have  no  hus 
band."  "You  have  said  the  truth,"  answered  Jesus; 
"  you  have  no  husband.  Five  husbands  you  have  had,  and 
the  one  you  have  now  is  not  your  husband — you  have  told 
the  truth."  The  poor  woman  immediately  acknowledged 
her  sins  ;  she  blushed  and  hung  down  her  head,  and  said  : 
"  Good  sir,  I  see  that  you  are  a  prophet."  She  was  now 
filled  with  reverential  awe  for  Jesus— for  she  felt  that  He 
could  see  into  her  heart.  But,  at  the  same  time,  the  extra 
ordinary  mildness  of  Jesus  filled  her  with  great  confidence 
in  Him.  She  next  began  to  ask  Him  which  was  the  true 
religion.  Jesus  explained  all  to  her  with  the  utmost  sim 
plicity,  and  finally  told  her  that  He  Himself  who  was  speak- 


348  THE  Bo  AD  HOMEWARD: 

ing  to  her  was  the  long-expected  Redeemer.  The  poor 
woman's  joy  was  unbounded.  She  forgot  to  close  the  well, 
though  it  was  strictly  forbidden  to  leave  it  open — she  forgot 
her  jar  of  water — she  could  think  only  of  the  living  water 
she  had  just  discovered.  She  hastened  back  to  the  city, 
and  cried  aloud  to  all  she  met :  "  Come  out  to  the  well  :  I 
have  found  the  Redeemer  of  the  world."  To  confirm  her 
words,  she  was  not  ashamed  to  cry  out  boldly:  "I  know 
that  he  is  the  Redeemer,  for  he  has  told  me  all  my  sins." 
This  is  one  of  the  confessions  which  our  divine  Saviour 
heard  Himself,  in  order  to  show  us  the  necessity  of  con 
fession. 

Our  Saviour  not  only  heard  confession  Himself,  but  He 
also  gave  this  divine  power  to  His  apostles.  And  it  is  fitting 
to  remember  here  that  this  power  of  forgiving  sins  was 
given  by  God  the  Father  to  Jesus  Christ,  even  as  man.  In 
the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew,  chapter  xxviii.  18,  we  read 
that  Jesus  Christ  said :  "  All  power  is  given  to  me  in 
heaven  and  on  earth."  By  saying  "  all  power  in  heaven 
and  on  earth  is  given  to  me,"  He  plainly  gives  us  to  under 
stand  that  He  had  also  received  from  His  heavenly  Father 
the  power  of  forgiving  sins  ;  and  that  He  had  this  same 
power  even  as  man  is  clearly  implied  in  the  words  "is 
given  to  me."  Had  our  Saviour  when  he  uttered  this  con 
sidered  Himself  as  God,  He  could  not  have  said  "  is  given 
to  me,"  because  as  God  He  already  had  this  power  of  Him 
self.  He  spoke  as  man,  then,  when  He  said  "  all  power  is 
given  to  me,"  and  as  man  He  could  and  did  receive  from 
His  heavenly  Father  the  power  of  forgiving  sins.  He  even 
proved  it  by  a  miracle  when  some  Scribes  called  this  power 
of  His  into  doubt.  When  the  people  brought  to  our  Lord  a 
man  sick  of  the  palsy,  He  said  to  the  sick  man  :  '  Son,  be 
of  good  heart,  thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee."  Then  some  of 
the  Scribes  said  within  themselves,  "  He  blasphemeth," 
thinking,  as  Protestants  do,  that  God  alone  could  forgive 


INSTITUTION  OF  CONFESSION.  349 

sins.  But  then  our  divine  Saviour  wishing  to  show  them  that 
He  "  even  as  man  "  had  received  power  from  His  heavenly 
Father  to  forgive  sins, wrought  a  great  miracle  in  confirmation 
of  this  truth.  He  said  :  "  But  that  you  may  know  that  the 
Son  of  Man  has  power  on  earth  to  forgive  sins,  then  Iu- 
saith  to  the  man  sick  of  the  palsy,  Arise,  take  up  thy  bod 
and  go  into  thy  house ;  and  he  arose  and  went  into  his 
house,  and  the  multitude  seeing  it  feared  and  glorified  God, 
who  had  given  such  power  to  men."  * 

Now  this  power  which  Jesus  Christ  as  man  had  was  again 
delegated  by  Him  to  other  men,  that  is,  to  St.  Peter  and  the 
rest  of  the  apostles.     This  He  did  in  the  most  solemn  man 
ner  on  the  very  day  of  His  resurrection.     On  Easter  Sun 
day  night  the  apostles  were  assembled  in  the  supper-room  in 
Jerusalem.     They  had  the  doors  and  windows  firmly  barred 
and  bolted,  for  they  feared  the  Jews  might  break  in  on 
them  and  drag  them  to  prison.     Suddenly,  Jesus  Himself 
stood   in  their    midst,   and  saluted    them   with  the   sweet 
words,  "  Peace  be  with  you."     The  apostles  were  afraid,  for 
they  thought  they  saw  a  ghost.     Jesus  encouraged  them 
and  bade  them  touch  Him:  "  See  my  hands  and  feet,"  He 
said,  "  it  is  I  myself ;  feel  and  see  ;  a  ghost  has  no  flesh  and 
bones  as  I."     The  apostles  trembled  with  joy  and  wonder, 
and  still  hesitated.      Jesus  then  told  them  to  give  Him 
something  to  eat,  and  He  ate  with  them,  and  then  they  saw 
clearly  that  He  was  risen  from  the  dead.     Our  divine  Saviour 
now  said  to  them :  "  Peace  be  with  you.     As  the  Father 
has  sent  me,  I  also  send  you "  ;f  that  is,  with  the  same 
powers  with  which  I,  as  man,  am  sent  by  my  Father,  I  also 
send  you  as  my  delegates.,  as  the  pastors  of  my  Church. 
And  that  there  might  not  be  the  least  doubt  that  in  these 
words  of  His  He  included  the  power  of  forgiving  sins,  nay, 
to  show  in  an  especial  manner  that  this  power  was  included, 
He  immediately  breathed  upon  the  apostles,  and  said  to 


350  THE  ROAD  HOMEWARD  : 

them  :  "  Receive  ye  the  Holy  Ghost  :  whose  sins  ye  shall  for 
give,  they  are  forgiven  them ;  and  whose  sins  yon  shall  re 
tain,  they  are  retained."  *  Here,  in  the  clearest  terms, 
Jesus  Christ  gives  His  apostles  the  power  of  forgiving  sins, 
in  such  a  manner  that  when  they  here  on  earth  exercise  this 
power  by  passing  sentence  of  forgiveness  over  a  penitent 
sinner,  their  sentence  is  ratified  in  Heaven,  and  the  sins  of 
the  penitent  are  actually  forgiven. 

Mark  well  the  words  :  "  Whose  sins  you  forgive,  they 
are  forgiven  them."  No  man  who  really  loves  the  truth  can 
find  any  other  meaning  in  these  words  than  their  plain 
and  natural  meaning.  Those  words  may  be  examined  in 
any  grammar  or  dictionary  of  the  English  language,  in  any 
language  at  all,  in  the  Syro-Ohaldaic,  in  the  very  language 
our  divine  Saviour  spoke  ;  and  if  we  are  sincere,  we  shall,  we 
can,  find  no  other  meaning  in  them  than  their  natural  and 
obvious  meaning :  "  Whose  sins  you  forgive,  they  are  for 
given  them."  What  plainer  words  could  our  Saviour  have 
used,  what  other  words  could  we  ourselves  use,  to  express  the 
fact  that  the  apostles  really  received  the  power  of  forgiving 
sins  ? 

Suppose  the  Emperor  of  Russia  were  to  send  an  ambassa 
dor  to  this  country,  and,  giving  him  full  power  to  act  as  ple 
nipotentiary,  would  say  to  him :  "  Whatsoever  conditions 
you  agree  to,  I  also  agree  to  them  ;  and  whatsoever  condi 
tions  you  reject,  I  also  do  reject  them."  Would  not  such 
language  be  clear  and  explicit  enough  ?  Would -not  every 
one  see  that  this  ambassador  was  invested  with  the  same 
power  as  the  emperor  himself  ?  Now,  this  is  precisely  the 
language  of  our  divine  Saviour  to  His  apostles :  "  Whatsoever 
sins  you  shall  forgive,  I  also  forgive  them  ;  and  whatsoever 
sins  you  refuse  to  forgive,  I  also  refuse  to  forgive  them." 

When  God  formed  the  first  man  out  of  the  slime  of  the 
earth,  He  breathed  into  his  face  the  breath  of  life,  and  that 
*  John  xx.  23. 


INSTITUTION  OF  CONFESSION.  351 

instant  man  became  a  living  soul,  a  living  image  of  God. 
Now,  also,  God  breathes  upon  His  apostles  the  breath  of  life, 
and  that  very  instant  they  became  not  merely  images  of 
God,  for  they  were  that  already,  but  really  Gods,  as  it  were, 
having  all  power  in  heaven  and  on  earth.  "  As  the  living 
Father  hath  sent  me,  so  do  I  also  send  you. "  The  heavenly 
Father  had  sent  Jesus  Christ  to  forgive  sins,  and  to  trans 
mit  this  power  to  others,  and  Jesus  in  like  manner  sends 
His  apostles  with  the  power  to  forgive  sins,  and  to  transmit 
this  power  to  their  successors. 

Our  divine  Saviour  came  on  earth  to  forgive  the  sins  of 
all  men  ;  but  He  was  not  to  live  always  here  on  earth,  and, 
consequently,  He  had  to  leave  this  power  to  His  successors, 
the  apostles.  The  apostles,  too,  for  the  same  reason,  had  to 
transmit  this  power  to  their  successors,  the  bishops  and 
priests,  and  this  power  must  necessarily  remain  in  the 
Church  as  long  as  there  are  sins  to  be  forgiven. 

The  apostles  clearly  understood  that  they  had  received 
this  divine  power  to  forgive  sins,  and  to  transmit  this  power 
to  their  successors.  In  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  as  well  as 
in  their  writings,  we  find  express  mention  made  of  con 
fession.  St.  Luke  tells  us  that  whilst  the  apostles  were  at 
Ephesus  the  faithful  came  and  confessed  their  sins,  and  those 
who  had  been  addicted  to  magic  sciences  brought  their  books 
together  and  burnt  them  publicly.*  The  Apostle  St.  John 
also  tells  us:  "Let  us  confess  our  sins,  for  God  is  just  and 
faithful."  f  God  is  just ;  He  requires  a  candid  confession. 
God  is  faithful ;  He  will  really  pardon  the  sinner  through 
the  priest,  as  He  has  promised. 

St.  Paul  the  Apostle  says  expressly  that  he  and  the  other 
apostles  received  from  Christ  the  power  of  forgiving  sins.J 
St.  Clement,  the  disciple  of  St.  Paul,  whom  St.  Paul  names 
in  his  Epistle,  preached  only  what  he  had  heard  from  St. 
Paul.  This  disciple  speaks  expressly  of  confession.  Ha 

*Aotexttl8.  tlJohni.9.  *  2  Cor.  v.  18-30. 


352  THE  ROAD  HOMEWARD: 

says  that  "  in  the  other  world  neither  confession  nor  penance 
will  be  of  any  avail."  All  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  from 
the  apostles  down  to  our  own  day,  speak  of  confession  as  a 
sacrament  instituted  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  Himself.  All 
the  older  heretics  and  schismatics,  without  exception,  the 
Armenians,  the  Copts,  Greeks,  Russians,  have  retained  con 
fession  even  to  this  day. 

But  nothing  would  seem  better  calculated  to  convince  any 
one  of  the  divine  institution  of  confession,  than  its  univer 
sal  introduction  and  practice.  It  is  a  certain,  undeniable 
fact  that  confession  has  always  been  practised  from  the  time 
of  the  apostles  down  to  the  present  day.  Here,  in  America, 
it  is  practised  in  the  North,  in  the  South,  in  the  East,  and 
the  West.  Confession  is  practised  in  every  country  in 
Europe;  it  is  practised  in  Asia,  in  Africa,  and  Australia; 
in  the  far-off  islands  of  the  Pacific.  Everywhere,  wher- 
'ever  a  Catholic  priest  and  a  Catholic  congregation  are  to  be 
found,  there  is  confession  practised  ;  and  it  is  not  only  prac 
tised  but  required  under  pain  of  eternal  damnation.  To 
confess  is  exceedingly  contrary  to  flesh  and  blood  ;  to  con 
fess  is  most  humbling  to  our  pride,  and  most  afflicting  to 
our  self-love.  Most  assuredly  no  human  authority  could  have 
succeeded  in  laying  so  heavy  a  yoke  and  burden  upon  men. 
Human  authority  may  succeed  in  abolishing  confession  in 
certain  countries  where  it  is  practised.  But  no  human  au 
thority  could  ever  establish  confession,  making  it  a  univer 
sal  law  all  over  the  world.  When  the  Protestants  abolished 
confession  in  certain  places  of  Germany,  they  soon  perceived 
that  the  greatest  disorders  and  licentiousness  commenced  to 
prevail,  and  that  no  one  was  any  longer  in  security  ;  so  they 
themselves  requested  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  to  issue  an 
edict  which  would  oblige  all  to  go  to  confession,  "  for/'  said 
they,  "  since  confession  has  been  abolished,  it  is  impossible 
to  live  in  peace  with  one  another." 

But  the  emperor  knew  that  neither  he  nor  any  other  hu- 


INSTITUTION  OF  CONFESSION.  ^08 

man  authority  was  able  to  introduce  confession,  and  that 
no  human  authority  was  able  to  establish  confession,  much 
less  could  any  human  authority  maintain  so  difficult  a  pre 
cept.  So  he  could  not  help  laughing  at  such  a  request,  and 
at  the  ignorance  and  stupidity  of  those  who  made  it. 

But  suppose  any  human  authority  to  have  tried  to  intro 
duce  confession,  who  would  have  been  the  most  violent  op 
ponents  of  this  practice ;  who  would  have  been  the  very  first 
one  to  shake  off  this  heavy  burden  ?  The  Catholic  bishops 
and  priests.  Why  ?  Because  they  feel  the  pressure  of  this 
yoke  and  burden  more  than  laymen.  Not  only  are  popes, 
bishops,  and  priests  themselves  to  confess  their  sins,  they 
are  also  bound  to  hear  the  confessions  of  others.  What  can 
be  harder  than  this  ?  How  often  must  not  the  priest  hazard 
his  own  health,  his  life,  and  even  his  immortal  soul  in  order 
to  hear  the  confession  of  some  poor  sinner  !  How  often  must 
the  priest  visit  the  plague-stricken  in  hospitals  !  How  often 
must  he  remain  for  hours  in  a  close  room  beside  those  in 
fected  with  the  most  loathsome  diseases  ?  When  St.  Charles 
Borromeo  was  living,  the  pestilence  broke  out  at  Milan. 
More  than  one  thousand  priests  died  of  it,  because  they  as 
sisted  the  plague-stricken  and  heard  their  confession.  A 
few  years  ago  a  certain  priest  of  this  country  was  called  to 
hear  the  confession  of  a  dying  person.  The  priest  was  un 
well  ;  he  suffered  from  a  violent  fever ;  nevertheless,  he 
went.  He  had  to  travel  on  foot  for  thirty  miles  to  reach 
the  dying  person,  and,  after  having  administered  to  him  the 
last  Sacraments,  he  himself  fell  a  corpse  to  the  floor. 

Now,  could  the  Catholic  priest  bear  such  trials,  could  he 
brave  such  dangers,  were  the  hand  of  God  not  with  him  ? 
Would  he  suffer  so  much,  and  suffer  it  only  in  order  to  be 
able  to  assist  and  console  his  children,  to  hear  their  dying 
confessions,  and  to  reconcile  them  to  God — would  he  suffer 
all  this  did  he  not  believe  and  know  that  confession  is  from 
God,  did  he  not  know  that  as  priest  of  God  he  had  the 


354    ROAD  HOMEWARD:  INSTITUTION  OF  CONFESSION. 

power  of  forgiving  sins  ?  But  all  those  hardships  which 
the  Catholic  priest  must  sometimes  endure  in  the  exercise 
of  the  sacred  ministry,  are  but  slight  when  compared  to  the 
interior  trials,  the  trials  of  the  soul,  which  he  must  often 
undergo  precisely  on  account  of  confession.  But  the  voice 
of  the  Lord  must  be  obeyed.  He  commanded  the  apostles 
and  their  lawful  successors  to  teach  all  nations.  He  com 
manded  them  to  baptize  all  who  would  believe  in  their 
word.  He  told  them  that  no  one  would  enter  into  the  king 
dom  of  heaven  without  baptism.  The  same  Lord  gave 
power  to  the  Apostles  to  forgive  sins :  "  Whose  sins  you 
shall  forgive,  they  are  forgiven  them."  Let  us  praise  and 
magnify  the  Lord  for  having  given  such  power  to  man. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IHK  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION  —  NECESSITY  OF  CONFESSION. 


gentlemen  went  one  day  to  visit  a  church  in 
Paris.  While  examining  its  monuments  and  orna 
ments,  their  attention  was  attracted  by  a  priest  engaged  in 
hearing  confessions  in  one  of  the  side  chapels,  and  they 
began  to  laugh  and  joke  at  the  expense  of  the  penitent  and 
confessor.  "  It  is  a  laughable  affair,"  said  one  of  the  gen 
tlemen  to  his  companion  ;  "  I  must  amuse  myself  a  little. 
Leave  me  for  a  short  time  ;  we'll  meet  this  evening  at  the 
theatre."  "What  do  you  mean  to  do?"  said  the  other. 
"Never  mind,"  answered  the  first,  "I  wish  to  do  some 
thing  that  shall  afford  you  matter  for  amusement."  So, 
leaving  him,  he  went  to  examine  some  paintings  till  the 
priest  came  out  of  the  confessional.  When  he  came  out, 
the  gentleman  followed  him  into  the  sacristy,  and  said  : 
"  Sir,  I  am  thinking  of  going  to  confession,  but  let  us  go 
slowly  about  the  business,  if  you  please.  You  know,  I  pre 
sume,  that  men  like  me  are  not  all  saints  ;  I,  in  particular, 
claim  for  myself  a  greater  share  of  indulgence  on  your  part 
than  others,  so  as  to  make  some  equality  between  it  and  my 
faith,  which,  I  assure  you,  is  none  of  the  strongest.  I  even 
wish  you  to  begin  by  resolving  certain  difficulties,  exaggerated 
perhaps  by  prejudice,  but  still  sufficient  to  make  me  neglect, 
nay  even  hate  and  despise,  confession."  "  You  are,  then,  a 
Catholic  ?"  asked  the  priest.  "  Of  course  I  am,"  answered 
he  ;  "I  often  even  went  to  confession  in  my  yo'ith.  But 
what  I  read,  heard,  and  saw  of  confession  has  been  more 
than  sufficient  to  keep  me  away  from  it  ;  you  can  imagine 

856 


856  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFSS&ION: 

the  rest  yourself."  " Easily,"  answered  the  priest;  "bat 
you  have  not  succeeded  equally  well  in  finding  out  the  way 
to  overcome  your  prejudices.  Confess  your  sins,  sir,  and 
you  will  soon  change  your  opinion."  "  What,  without 
previous  explanations  on  the  subject !  I  find  a  difficulty  in 
bringing  myself  to  do  so  ;  I  should  first  wish  to  see  the 
necessity  of  confession  proved."  "Go  to  confession,  sir, 
with  a  sincere  resolution  of  changing  your  conduct,  and  you 
will  have  no  more  doubt  on  this  subject  than  I  have." 
"  How  !  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  "  That  you  have  lost  your 
faith  by  your  bad  conduct ;  you  have  judged  ill  of  confession 
only  after  having  abandoned  yourself  to  vice." 

The  gentleman  blushed,  arid  after  a  moment's  hesitation — 
"  That  is  exactly  the  truth,"  said  he,  throwing  himself  into 
the  arms  of  the  priest — "  that  is  exactly  the  truth  !  How 
is  it  possible  that  1  did  not  make  that  reflection  myself  ?  I 
cannot  go  to  confession  to-day,  as  I  came  only  with  the 
intention  of  annoying  you  and  insulting  your  ministry. 
Avenge  yourself  on  my  folly  by  becoming  my  conductor  :  I 
pledge  my  word  of  honor  to  come  to  you  on  whatever  day 
you  may  appoint "  ;  and  he  kept  his  promise. 

After  this  first  step  all  his  prejudices  vanished,  and  during 
the  rest  of  his  life  he  continued  to  think  of  confession  like 
a  Christian,  because  he  lived  like  a  Christian  (Soirees 
Villageoises,  vol.  i.) 

It  is  licentiousness  alone  that  makes  men  object  to  and 
keeps  them  from  confession.  They  who  fly  from  it  are  assur 
edly  never  actuated  by  the  desire  of  becoming  more  virtuous, 
but  by  the  contrary  desire  of  more  freely  gratifying  their 
passions.  The  man  of  pure  and  chaste  morals  fears  not  the 
humble  confession  of  his  faults.  The  tree  is  known  by  its 
fruit ;  and  thus  we  never  hear  an  upright,  moral  man  speak 
badly  of  confession.  Confession  is  one  of  nature's  wants. 
Everything  which  is  truly  interior  must  be  outwardly  ex 
pressed.  The  love  for  Christ  within  us  must  manifest  itself 


NECESSITY  OF  CONCESSION.  357 

externally  in  works  of  charity  to  the  brethren,  and  what 
we  do  unto  these  we  do  to  Him  also.     It  is  the  same  with 
contrition  and  the  confession  of  sins  before  God,  an  act 
itself  purely  internal;  if  it  be  deep,  strong,  and  energetic 
it  seeks  an  outward  manifestation,  and  becomes  the  sacra 
mental  confession  before  the  priest;  and  what  we  do  to  him 
we  do  again  unto  Christ  likewise,  whose  place  he  repre 
seats. 

Origen  rightly  compares  sin  to  an  indigestible  food,  which 
occasions  sickness  at  the  stomach,  till  it  has  been  thrown 
F  by  a  motion  in  the  bowels.     Even  so  is  the  sinner  tor- 
mental  with  internal  pain,  and  he  only  enjoys  quiet  and  full 
health  when,  by  means  of  confession,  he  has,  as  it  were 
eased  himself  of  the  noxious  internal  stuff.     The  man  who 
never  opens  his  heart  to  any  one,  who  never  reveals  his  joys 
and  his  sorrows,  who  never  discloses  to  a  kindly  friend  the 
dark  deeds  that  press  so  heavily  on  his  conscience,  is  not  to 
be  trusted,  and  cannot  be  happy.     Man  is  so  constituted 
that  he  does  not  believe  in  his  interior  feelings  unless  he 
sees  an  outward  manifestation  of  them,  and,  in  fact   an  in 
ternal  sentiment  is  only  ripened  to  consummation  when  it 
has  acquired  an  outward  shape.     He  therefore  who  truly 
and  heartily  hates  sin,  confesses  it  with  an  involuntary  joyfn] 
pain  ;  with  pain,  because  it  is  his  own  sin  ;  but  with  a  joyful 
]>am,  because  after  confession  it  ceases  to  belong  to  him 
and  to  be  his.     This  accounts  for  the  well-known  fact  that 
criminals  have  often  confessed  their  sins  during  sleep   or 
during  a  drunken  or  crazy  fit,  and  many,  unable  to  endure 
the  remorse  of  conscience,  have  delivered  themselves  up  to 
justice  and  confessed  their  sins  publicly.     And  what  are  all 
the  immoral  books  that  now  pollute  society— the  novels  the 
lewd  poetry,  and  the  rest-other  than  a  public  confession  of 
the  crimes  and  of  the  wicked  lives  of  their  authors  ? 

Very  great,  therefore,  is  the  impious  foUy  of  Protestants 
who  deny  the  necessity  of  confession.     In  spite  of  them- 


35fc  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

selves,  they  have  often  involuntarily  acknowledged  the  fact 
that  confession  is  a  want  of  the  human  heart. 

The  celebrated  Cardinal  Cheverus,  who  was  formerly 
Bishop  of  Boston,  was  much  beloved  by  Protestants  as  well 
as  by  Catholics,  on  account  of  his  great  learning  and  virtues. 
It  often  happened  that  even  Protestant  ladies  of  the  most 
respectable  families  in  Boston  came  to  consult  him.  They 
told  him  their  family  troubles,  their  troubles  of  conscience, 
and  asked  his  advice — precisely  as  Catholics  do  in  confession. 
One  day,  a  lady  told  the  bishop  that  there  was  one  doctrine 
of  the  Catholic  Church  which  she  disliked  exceedingly,  and 
which  prevented  her  from  becoming  a  Catholic,  and  this 
was  the  doctrine  of  confession.  She  could  never  prevail  on 
herself  to  confess  her  sins  :  "  Madam,"  answered  the  bishop 
smiling,  "you  say  that  you  dislike  confession,  but  your  dis 
like  is  not  so  great  as  you  imagine  ;  for  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
you  have  been  really  confessing  to  me  this  long  time.  You 
must  know  that  confession  is  nothing  else  than  the  confiding 
of  your  troubles  and  failings  to  a  priest,  in  order  to  obtain 
his  advice,  and  to  receive  through  him  the  forgiveness  of 
your  sins." 

What  happened  to  this  celebrated  cardinal  happens  also 
to  almost  every  priest.  There  are  many  noble-hearted  soul? 
created  by  God  for  a  high  purpose — to  shine  amid  the  an 
gels  throughout  all  eternity.  Their  sensibilities  are  so  keen 
that  they  seem  born  only  to  suffer  and  weep.  Their  path  to 
heaven  is  indeed  a  path  of  thorns.  Their  griefs  and  yearn 
ings  are  such  that  but  few  can  understand  them.  God 
help  these  noble  souls  if  they  are  deprived  of  the  strength 
and  consolations  of  the  Catholic  Church  !  Out  of  the 
Church  they  must  bear  their  anguish  alone.  In  the  hour  of 
happiness,  they  were  told  that  religion  would  console  them 
in  the  hour  of  sorrow.  And  now  the  hour  of  sorrow  haa 
come.  Whither  shall  they  turn  for  strength  and  consola 
tion  ?  To  books — to  the  Bible  ?  Books  are  cold  and  weari- 


NECESSITY  OF  CONFESSION.  359 

some  ;  their  words  are  dead.  Oh  !  how  they  envy  the  peni 
tent  Magdalen,  who  could  sit  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  and  hear 
from  His  blessed  lips  the  sweet  words  of  pardon  and  peace  ! 
They  turn  to  God  in  prayer,  but  God  answers  them  not  by 
the  Urim  and  Thummim  ;  and,  in  their  doubt  and  loneli 
ness,  they  envy  even  the  Jews  of  old.  In  vain  do  they  listen 
for  the  voice  of  God,  because  God  has  appointed  a  voice  to 
speak  and  answer  in  His  name ;  but  that  voice  is  only  within 
the  shepherd's  fold  ;  and  they  are  kept  without  the  fold  by 
the  cruel  enemy,  where  the  voice  of  the  shepherd  cannot 
reach  them. 

What  are  they  to  do  to  find  relief  ?  Are  they  to  apply  to 
the  Protestant  minister  ?  An  interior  voice  tells  them  to 
apply  rather  to  a  Catholic  priest.  The  Rev.  Father  Bake- 
well  tells  us  that,  when  a  Protestant,  he  felt  a  strong  desire 
to  confess  his  sins.  This  desire  grew  stronger  and  stronger 
every  day,  so  much  so  that  he  felt  very  unhappy  because  he 
could  not  satisfy  it.  One  day  the  Protestant  minister,  who 
had  a  special  affection  for  Mr.  Bakewell,  noticed  that  some 
thing  unusual  was  troubling  the  mind  of  his  young  friend. 
So  he  called  him  and  asked  him  the  cause  of  his  sadness. 
' '  Reverend  sir,"  says  Mr.  Bakewell,  "  I  want  to  go  to  confes 
sion."  "  Nonsense,"  replied  the  minister,  with  a  sneer  ; 
and  then  a  discussion  ensued  between  the  minister  and  his 
disciple.  The  minister  resorted  to  all  sorts  of  arguments 
to  dispel  from  Mr.  Bakewell's  mind  what  he  termed  Cath 
olic  notions,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  Mr.  Bakewell  was  a 
man  of  sound  judgment,  and  empty  declamations  could  not 
satisfy  him.  Then,  by  an  inconsistency  which  nothing 
could  justify,  the  minister  said  to  Mr.  Bakewell:  "Since 
you  insist  upon  going  to  confession,  the  Book  of  Common 
Prayer  declares  that  I  have  the  power  to  hear  you.  I  am 
ready."  It  was  more  than  Mr.  Bakewell  could  bear.  "  Sir," 
said  he,  "you  have  just  told  me  that  confession  is  absurd, 
contrary  to  the  teaching  of  Christ,  that  it  ig  priests'  inven- 


360  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

tion,  a  source  of  immorality,  and  now  yon  expect  to  hear 
me ;  permit  me  to  say  that  I  will  never  confess  to  a  man 
who  has  no  faith  in  confession — this  looks  too  absurd  ;  I  will 
apply  to  a  priest,  for  he  believes,  and  I  do  believe  with  him, 
that  Christ  has  placed  in  his  hands  the  twofold  power  of 
loosing  and  binding."  A  few  days  after,  Mr.  Bakewell  was 
received  into  the  bosom  of  the  Church. 

Now,  what  are  these  unsolicited  manifestations  of  Protes 
tants  made  to  a  Catholic  priest  ?  Are  they  not  an  evident 
proof  of  the  undeniable  fact  that  confession  is  a  want  of 
nature  ?  Nay,  even  all  our  would-be  infidels  have  ever 
been  compelled  to  acknowledge  this  fact.  Many  of  their 
emphatic  avowals  regarding  the  efficacy  of  confession  might 
be  adduced.  Nay,  many  infidels  have  oftentimes,  but  espe 
cially  at  the  hour  of  death,  had  recourse  to  this  consoling 
sacrament.  Mezerai,  Toussaint,  Maupertuis,  De  Boulain- 
villiers,  La  Mettrie,  Dumarsais,  D'Argens,  Boulanger,  De 
Tressan,  De  Laugle,  Fontenelle,  Buffon,  Montesquieu,  La 
Harpe,  etc.,  went  to  confession  before  their  death  with  all 
the  sentiments  of  compunction  and  Christian  piety.  All 
the  great  standard-bearers  of  infidelity  during  the  past  cen 
tury  would  have  confesssed  their  sins  at  their  last  hour  had 
they  not  been  hindered  from  so  doing  by  their  impious  asso 
ciates.  Even  D'Alembert  himself  expressed  his  desire  of 
reconciling  himself  with  his  God.  Condorcet,  his  friend, 
who  shut  out  from  the  dying  man  the  pastor  of  St.  Ger 
main,  satanically  congratulated  himself  upon  such  a  tri 
umph.  "Oh!"  said  he,  "were  I  not  present,  he  would 
have  flinched  like  the  rest  of  them." 

Diderot  was  in  the  best  dispositions  possible,  he  had  fre 
quent  interviews  with  the  parish  priest  of  St.  Sulpice,  but 
his  friends  hastened  to  take  him  to  the  country,  in  order  to 
save  the  philosophical  body  from  the  shame,  as  they  called 
it,  of  his  conversion.  Voltaire  went  to  confession  during 
many  of  his  attacks  of  sickness ;  but  not  at  his  last  hour, 


NECESSITY  OF  UoirFEsswir.  361 

because  his  chamber-door  was  shut  upon  the  chaplain  of  St. 
Sulpicc,  who  was  thus  prevented  from  going  to  his  bedside; 
and  Voltaire  died  in  such  a  terrible  paroxysm  of  fury  and 
rage  that  the  Marshal  of  Richelieu,  who  was  present  at  his 
cruel  agony,  exclaimed,  "  Really  this  sight  is  sickening,  it 
is  insupportable  ! "  Listen  to  what  his  Protestant  physician, 
M.  Trochin,  says  of  it  :  "Figure  to  yourself  the  rage  and 
fury  of  Orestes,  and  you  will  still  have  but  a  feeble  image  of 
the  fury  of  Voltaire  in  his  last  agony.  It  would  be  well  if 
all  the  infidels  of  Paris  were  present.  Oh  !  the  fine  specta 
cle  that  would  have  met  their  eyes  ! " 

But  one  may  say  :  "  Oh  !  I  am  willing  to  confess  my  sins 
to  God,  but  not  to  the  Catholic  priest."  St.  Thomas  of 
Villanova  answers :  "  As  long  as  God  was  not  made  man, 
there  was  no  strict  command  for  man  to  confess  his  sins  to 
man  ;  but  since  God  became  man,  He  has  given  all  judgment 
to  His  Son,  for  He  is  appointed  judge  of  the  living  and  the 
dead  ;  and  to  Him,  therefore,  is  man  to  render  an  account 
of  his  sins.  But,  because  Christ  has  ascended  to  Heaven, 
He  has  delegated  his  priests  to  exercise  that  power,  and  He 
has  declared  in  express  terms  that  they  have  jurisdiction 
over  sins  to  bind  and  to  loose.  And  oh  !  I  wish  you  would, 
understand  what  a  great  benefit  and  a  great  mercy  this 
was."  *  "  Let  no  one  say  to  me,"  says  St.  Augustine,  "  'I 
do  penance  in  my  heart,  I  confess  all  my  sins  to  God  and  to 
God  alone,  who  was  present  when  I  committed  sin.  It  is 
He  who  must  forgive  me.'  Then  in  vain  was  it  said  to  the 
apostles, '  Whose  sins  you  shall  forgive  they  are  forgiven  them, 
and  whose  sins  you  shall  retain  they  are  retained  ! '  Then 
the  Church  has  received  the  keys  to  no  purpose  ;  and  so 
you  make  a  mockery  of  the  Gospel."  To  give  the  priest  the 
power  to  forgive  sins,  and  yet  not  to  oblige  any  one  "to  confess 
his  sins  to  him,  would  indeed  be  to  make  a  mockery  of  the 
priest.  For  how  can  the  priest  forgive  a  sin  without  know- 
*  Dominica  IIL  Quaa. 


362  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

ing  it  ?  And  how  can  he  know  the  sin  unless  the  sinner 
himself  confesses  it.  In  the  sacrament  of  confession,  the 
priest  is  a  physician  and  judge.  He  is  a  physician,  and  conse 
quently  he  must  know  the  nature  of  the  malady  that  afflicts 
the  soul  before  he  can  cure  it.  He  is  a  judge,  and  must 
consequently  know  what  and  how  he  has  to  judge. 

What  should  we  say  of  a  judge  who,  without  examining 
the  cases  brought  before  him,  without  questioning  either 
the  plaintiff  or  the  defendant,  would  condemn  at  random 
one  to  be  sent  to  prison,  another  to  be  hanged,  and  order 
another  to  be  set  at  liberty  ?  Should  we  not  think  such  a 
judge  most  unjust  ?  What,  then,  should  we  think  of  a 
priest  who  would  absolve  one  and  refuse  to  absolve  another 
without  asking  any  questions,  without  even  listening  to  the 
penitent,  but  merely  following  his  own  blind  caprices  ? 
Would  not  such  a  priest  be  guilty  of  grievous  injustice  ? 
But  it  is  precisely  thus  that  every  priest  would  be  forced  to 
act  were  Christians  not  strictly  bound  to  confess  all  their 
Bins  to  him. 

As  no  one  is  foolish  enough  to  say,  "  I  will  go  to  God  and  to 
God  alone  for  the  remission  of  original  sin,  I  will  send  my 
children  to  God  alone  instead  of  sending  them  to  the  bap 
tismal  font,"  so,  let  no  one  be  foolish  enough  to  say,  "I 
will  go  to  God  alone  for  the  forgiveness  of  actual  sin  " ;  for, 
as  the  former  is  forgiven  only  by  means  of  baptism,  so  is 
the  latter  forgiven  only  by  means  of  the  sacrament  of 
penance.  Do  all  the  good  you  can,  distribute  all  you  have 
among  the  poor,  scourge  yourself  to  blood  every  day,  fast 
daily  on  bread  and  water,  pray  as  long  and  as  much  as  you 
are  able,  shed  an  ocean  of  tears  on  account  of  your  sins — do 
all  this,  and  yet  if  you  have  not  the  firm  will  to  confess 
your  sins,  "you  will,"  says  St.  Augustine,  "  be  damned  for 
not  having  been  willing  to  confess  them.  Open  therefore  your 
!ips>  and  confess  your  sins  to  the  priest.  Confession  alone 
is  the  true  gate  to  heaven." 


NECESSITY  OP  CONFESSION.  363 

St.  Bonaventure  relates  that  one  of  his  brethren  in  reli 
gion  was  considered  a  saint  by  every  one  who  knew  him. 
He  was  seen  praying  in  every  place.  He  never  spoke  a 
word.  In  order  not  to  be  obliged  to  break  silence,  he  made 
his  confession  only  by  signs.  When  St.  Francis  heard  of 
this,  he  said :  "  Such  conduct  is  no  sign  of  sanctity.  Know 
that  this  brother  is  a  child  of  perdition.  The  devil  has  tied 
his  tongue  in  order  that  he  may  not  confess  his  sins  in  the 
manner  he  ought."  The  words  of  the  saint  were  soon 
verified.  This  unhappy  man  soon  after  left  the  convent 
and  died  a  bad  death.  For  him,  then,  who  has  grievously 
sinned  after  baptism  there  is  no  other  means  left  of  obtain 
ing  God's  pardon  than  by  confessing  his  sins  to  the  Catholic 
priest.  This  the  devil,  the  great  enemy  of  our  salvation, 
knows  well — hence  his  artifices  to  keep  men  from  confession. 
When  the  Prodigal  Son  arose  at  last  to  return  to  his  loving 
father,  the  tempter  stood  beside  him  and  said :  "  What  are 
you  doing  ?  You  cannot  go  back  to  your  father  in  that 
plight.  You  are  all  in  rags.  Your  father  will  be  ashamed 
of  you.  He  will  not  own  you.  Besides,  the  distance  is  too 
great.  You  will  lose  your  way.  You  will  be  attacked  by 
robbers  and  wild  beasts.  Moreover,  you  are  now  too  weak 
and  sickly,  you  will  faint  and  die  on  the  way.  Wait  yet  a 
few  days  longer.  This  famine  will  not  last  always.  You 
will  have  better  times  by  and  by.  If  you  go  back  to  your 
father,  you  will  be  scolded  and  treated  even  more  harshly 
than  before.  If  you  go  back  now,  every  one  will  say  that 
you  are  a  coward — every  one  will  laugh  at  you."  How  cun 
ning  and  crafty  is  Satan  !  It  is  thus  that  this  infernal 
spirit  always  tries  to  keep  the  poor  sinner  from  returning  to 
God,  his  heavenly  Father. 

There  is  a  man  who  is  not  yet  a  Catholic,  though  inclined 
to  become  one.  The  devil  makes  him  believe  that  con 
fession  is  not  a  divine  institution,  but  an  invention  of  men  ; 
that  it  is  even  blasphemous  to  say  and  believe  that  man  can 


364  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

forgive  sins ;  that  confession  is  too  difficult  a  duty  for  man 
to  perform,  and  that  therefore  a  God  of  infinite  kindness 
could  not  ohlige  man  to  perform  it ;  that  a  secret  confession 
made  to  Him  alone  is  all  that  is  required.  There  is  a 
Catholic  who  has  stayed  away  from  confession  for  thirty, 
forty,  or  fifty  years.  He  makes  up  his  mind  at  last  to  go 
v  to  confession.  Then  comes  the  devil  and  whispers  in  his 
'ear :  "  Oh  !  there  is  no  hope  for  you.  You  have  stayed  away 
too  long  from  confession.  Your  sins  are  too  great  and  too 
numerous.  You  cannot  obtain  forgiveness.  Besides,  you 
will  never  be  able  to  remember  all  of  them.  It  is  useless 
for  you  to  go  to  confession." 

There  is  a  young  woman  who  has  been  leading  a  worldly 
life.  She  has  been  keeping  dangerous  company.  She  has 
permitted  sinful  liberties.  She  sometimes  reads  senti 
mental  novels  and  weekly  magazines.  She  hears  a  sermon ; 
her  conscience  is  aroused  ;  and  she  wishes  to  make  a  good 
confession.  But  the  devil  conies  to  her  and  says  :  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do  ?  The  priests  are  too  strict.  Do  not 
go  near  them.  They  will  make  you  promise  a  great  many 
things  ;  and  then  after  the  confession  you  will  break  your 
promises,  and  you  will  be  worse  than  before." 

There  is  another  unhappy  soul.  She  has  been  for  years 
making  bad  confessions  and  sacrilegious  communions.  At 
last  she  wishes  to  make  a  good  confession,  to  tell  everything 
that  is  on  her  conscience  ;  but  the  devil  comes  and  whispers 
in  her  ear  :  "  Oh  !  what  will  the  priest  think  of  you  if  you  tell 
these  horrid  sins  ?  The  priest  never  heard  such  sins  before. 
He  will  be  horrified — he  will  scold  you."  In  using  such 
artifices  to  keep  men  from  confession,  the  devil  is  like  to 
Holofernes  besieging  Bethulia.  Seeing  that  he  could  not 
take  the  city  by  main  force,  Holofernes  destroyed  all  the 
water-conduits.  Thus  the  inhabitants,  for  want  of  water, 
saw  themselves  forced  to  surrender.  The  devil  knows  that 
<  he  sacrament  of  penance  is  the  only  happy  channel  through 


NECESSITY  OF  COXFESSIOX. 


305 


which  the  divine  grace  of  reconciliation  flows  upon  the 
sinner.  He  knows  that  the  sinner  remains  in  his  power  if 
he  succeeds  either  in  making  him  not  believe  in  the  neces 
sity  of  confession,  or  in  inducing  him  to  stay  away  from  it, 
or  to  make  a  bad  confession.  The  devil  knows  well  how 
true  are  the  words  of  our  Saviour  :  "  Whose  sins  you  shall 
retain,  they  are  retained  "—that  is,  they  will  not  be  forgiven 
For  all  eternity.  How  many  souls  are  now  burning  in  hell 
for  not  having  believed  in  the  necessity  of  confession,  for 
having  put  off  confession  too  long,  or  for  having  made  bad 
confessions  ! 

The  Rev.  Father  Furniss,  C.SS.R.,  relates  that  there  was  » 
certain  gentleman  living  iu  the  North  of  England,  in  York 
shire.  He  led  a  very  wicked  life,  and  knew  that  those  who 
lead  wicked  lives  deserve  to  go  to  hell.  He  wanted  to  be  bad 
during  his  lifetime,  and  still  not  go  to  hell  when  he  died. 
So  he  began  to  think  how  he  might  gratify  his  passions  and 
still  save  himself  from  hell  after  all.  He  thought  that  he 
had  found  out  a  way  to  save  his  soul  after  leading  a  bad 
life.  When  I  am  dying,  he  thought,  I  will  repent  and  send 
for  the  priest,  and  make  my  confession,  and  then  all  will  be 
right.  But  then  he  remembered  that  if  he  had  to  send  for 
the  priest  when  he  was  dying,  perhaps  the  priest  might  not 
f>e  at  home  ;  or  perhaps  his  illness  might  be  very  short,  and 
the  priest  could  not  come  soon  enough  to  hear  his  con 
fession.  He  was  frightened  when  he  remembered  that  he 
might  die  before  the  priest  could  arrive.  So  he  thought;  of 
another  plan.  He  would  get  a  priest  to  come  and  live 
always  in  the  house  with  him,  so  that  at  any  moment  he 
could  send  for  the  priest.  This  thought  pleased  him  very 
much,  for  he  felt  sure  that  if  a  priest  was  always  living  in 
his  house  he  should  be  quite  safe.  But  he  forgot  those 
words,  "  As  people  live,  so  shall  they  die."  He  forgot  that 
he  was  offending  God  very  much,  and  that,  after  all,  how 
we  shall  die  depends  entirely  on  God. 


366  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

A  year  or  two  after  this  his  last  illness  came,  and  it  came 
upon  him  very  suddenly,  when  he  was  not  expecting  it, 
He  felt  that  he  was  dying,  so  he  told  his  servants  to  go  and 
fetch  the  priest  to  hear  his  confession.  The  priest  was  in 
the  house,  and  the  servants  went  directly  to  find  him. 
They  went  first  of  all  to  the  priest's  own  room,  which  was 
next  to  the  room  in  which  the  gentleman  lay  dying.  The 
servants,  not  finding  the  priest  in  his  own  room,  went  through 
the  whole  house,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest  room, 
but  could  not  find  him  anywhere.  They  called  out  his 
name  all  over  the  house,  but  there  was  no  answer  to  their 
call.  So  they  went  back  to  their  master,  and  told  him  that 
the  priest  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  Then  the  gentleman 
saw  how  he  had  been  deceiving  himself,  despair  came  into 
his  heart,  and  he  died  without  hope  of  salvation. 

A  few  moments  after  he  had  died  the  servants  happened 
to  go  again  into  the  priest's  room,  and  there  they  saw  the 
priest  reading  the  prayers  in  his  office-book.  "  How  long," 
they  said,  "  has  your  reverence  been  here  ?  "  "  I  have  been 
here  all  the  morning."  "  Did  you  not  go  out  of  the  room 
any  time  ?"  "No,"  said  the  priest,  "  I  have  not  been  out 
for  one  moment."  "  Did  you  not  then  see  us  come  into  this 
room  two  or  three  times,  or  hear  us  calling  out  your  name  ?  " 
"No,"  said  the  priest,  "I  did  not  see  any  one  come  into 
this  room,  or  hear  any  one  call  out  my  name."  "As  peopl 
live,  so  they  die." 

If  we  have  followed  the  Prodigal  Son  in  his  sins,  let  us 
follow  him  now  in  his  repentance.  The  Prodigal  Son  made 
up  his  mind  to  return  to  his  father,  no  matter  what  it  would 
cost.  He  was  sorry  for  what  he  had  done,  and  was  deter 
mined  to  make  reparation  to  the  best  of  his  power.  No  evil 
companion,  no  suggestion  of  the  devil,  could  prevail  upon 
him  to  stay  any  longer  in  a  strange  country — in  a  state  of 
mortal  sin.  He  was  determined  to  make  his  confession  to 
his  father  and  obtain  forgiveness.  We,  too,  must  show  such 


NECESSITY  OF  CONFESSION.  367 

determination,  and  say  to  ourselves  :  No  matter  what  it 
may  cost  me ;  no  matter  what  the  neighbors  may  say  ;  no 
matter  what  my  friends  may  say,  I  am  determined  with  God's 
help  to  make  a  good  confession  and  to  give  up  this  life 
of  sin. 

Let  us  be  wise,  and  let  us  be  wise  in  time — that  is,  let  ua 
confess  our  sins  in  time,  for  in  the  world  to  come  there  is  no 
one  to  hear  our  confession  and  give  us  absolution  ;  not  even 
the  apostles  can  do  so.  It  is  only  in  this  W3rld  that  we  can 
find  a  created  being  who  has  power  to  forgive  the  sinner, 
who  can  free  him  from  the  chains  of  sin  and  hell ;  and  that 
extraordinary  being  is  the  priest,  the  Catholic  priest. 
"  Who  can  forgive  sins  except  God  ?  "  was  the  question  which 
the  Pharisees  sneeringly  asked.  "  Who  can  forgive  sins  ?  " 
is  the  question  which  the  Pharisees  of  the  present  day  also 
ask  ;  and  the  answer  is,  There  is  a  man  on  earth  that  can 
forgive  sins,  and  that  man  is  the  Catholic  priest. 

And  not  only  does  the  priest  declare  that  the  sinner  is  for 
given,  but  he  really  forgives  him.  The  priest  raises  his 
hand,  he  pronounces  the  words  of  absolution,  and  in  an  in 
stant,  quick  as  a  flash  of  light,  the  chains  of  hell  are  burst 
asunder,  and  the  sinner  becomes  a  child  of  God.  So  great 
is  the  power  of  the  priest  that  the  judgments  of  Heaven 
itself  are  subject  to  his  decision  ;  the  priest  absolves  on 
earth,  and  God  absolves  in  Heaven.  "Whatsoever  you 
shall  bind  on  earth,  shall  be  bound  in  Heaven  ;  and  whatso 
ever  you  shall  loose  on  earth,  shall  be  loosed  also  in  Heaven  " 
(Matt,  xviii.  18).  These  are  the  ever-memorable  words 
which  Jesus  Christ  addressed  to  the  apostles  and  to  their 
successors  in  the  priesthood. 

Suppose  that  our  Saviour  Himself  were  to  come  down 
from  Heaven,  and  were  to  appear  here  in  our  midst ;  sup 
pose  He  were  to  enter  one  of  the  confessionals  tc  hear  con 
fessions.  Now,  let  a  priest  enter  another  confessional,  fot 
the  same  purpose.  Suppose  that,  two  s:nners  go  to  conies- 


868  TEE  PitODTGAL's  CONFESSION; 

sion,  both  equally  well  disposed,  equally  contrite.  Let  one 
of  these  go  to  the  priest,  and  the  other  to  our  Saviour  Him 
self.  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  says  to  the  sinner  that  comes 
to  Him  :  "  1  absolve  thee  from  thy  sins  "  ;  and  the  priest  says 
to  the  sinner  that  goes  to  him  :  "I  absolve  thee  from  thy 
sins  "  ;  and  the  absolution  of  the  priest  will  be  just  as  valid, 
just  as  powerful,  as  the  absolution  of  Jesus  Christ  Himself. 

At  the  end  of  the  world  Jesus  Christ  will  Himself  judge 
all  men;  "for  the  Father  judges  no  one,  but  He  has  left 
all  judgment  to  his  divine  Son."  But  as  long  as  this  world 
lasts,  Jesus  Christ  has  left  all  judgment  to  His  priests.  He 
has  vested  them  with  His  own  authority,  with  His  own 
power.  "He  that  heareth  you,"  He  says,  "heareth  me." 
He  has  given  them  His  own  divine  Spirit.  "  Receive  ye  the 
Holy  Ghost  •  whosesoever  sins  you  shall  forgive,  they  are 
forgiven  ;  and  whosesoever  sins  you  shall  retain,  they  are 
retained." 

The  priest  is  the  ambassador,  the  plenipotentiary  of  God. 
He  is  the  co-operator,  the  assistant,  of  God  in  the  work  of 
redemption.  This  is  no  exaggeration,  it  is  the  inspired  lan 
guage  of  the  apostle  :  uDei  ad ju tores  sumus."*  "  We  are 
the  co-operators,  the  assistants,  of  God."  It  is  to  the  priest 
that  God  speaks  when  He  says,  "Judge  between  me  and 
my  people  " — "  Judica  inter  me  et  vineam  meam."  f  "  This 
man,"  says  God,  speaking  to  the  priest,  "is  a  sinner  ;  he 
has  offended  me  grievously  ;  I  could  judge  him  myself,  but 
I  leave  this  judgment  to  your  decision.  I  will  forgive  him 
as  soon  as  you  grant  him  forgiveness.  He  is  my  enemy, 
but  I  will  admit  him  to  my  friendship  as  soon  as  you  declare 
him  worthy.  I  will  open  the  gates  of  Heaven  to  him  as 
soon  as  you  free  him  from  the  chains  of  sin  and  hell." 

There  lived  in  the  city  of  Antwerp,  in  Belgium,  a  certain 
nobleman  who  had,  in  his  youth,  the  misfortune  to  fall  into 
a  very  grievous  sin.  Day  and  night  his  conscience  tortured 
*  1  Cor.  ill  t  Isa.  v. 


NECESSITY  OF  CONFESSION.  36fc 

aim,  but  yet  he  could  not  prevail  upon  himseli'  to  confess 
this  sin ;  death,  even  hell  itself,  did  not  seem  to  him  so 
terrible  us  such  a  confession.  One  day  he  was  present  at  a 
sermon  which  gave  him  much  consolation.  The  priest  said, 
among  other  things,  that  "one  is  not  obliged  to  confess 
those  sins  which  he  has  entirely  forgotten."  The  nobleman 
now  did  all  in  his  power  to  forget  this  sin.  He  was  rich 
and  so  he  cast  himself  into  the  whirl  of  gay  amusements — 
every  pleasure,  lawful  and  unlawful,  was  enjoyed  ;  he  sought 
to  bury  his  sin  beneath  a  mountain  of  new  srns  ;  but  all  in 
vain  !  Far  above  the  sweet  music,  far  above  the  gay  song 
and  the  merry  laugh,  louder  than  all,  rose  the  voice  of  his 
conscience,  and  amidst  the  gayest  crowds  he  carried  a  hell 
in  his  heart. 

He  now  tried  another  plan.  He  began  to  travel.  He 
travelled  over  many  lands;  he  saw  everything  that  was 
quaint  or  beautiful.  A  change  of  climate^  he  thought, 
would  bring  about  a  change  of  heart ;  but  he  was  sadly  dis 
appointed.  Every  day  he  saw  new  sights  ;  without  every 
thing  was  new  and  changing,  but  within— in  his  soul— was 
ever  that  dead,  dreary  sameness,  for  he  carried  himself  with 
him  everywhere— everywhere  that  wicked  deed  haunted 
him.  The  blue  skies  and  the  sunny  lands  smiled  not  for 
him;  his  guilty  conscience  cast  a  gloomy  shadow  on  all  he 
beheld.  Weary  and  heart-sick,  he  returned  to  his  native 
city. 

He  there  applied  himself  earnestly  to  study,  and  thought 
to  beguile  his  soul  into  forgetfulness.  He  dived  into  the 
abstractions  of  mathematics  and  philosophy,  he  soared  aloft 
and  calculated  the  courses  of  the  stars,  he  listened  to  the 
lectures  of  the  most  learned  professors  ;  but  all  in  vain. 
Every  book  he  opened  seemed  to  tell  him  of  his  sin.  Tho 
voice  of  his  professor  sounded  in  his  ear,  but  far  louder 
deep  down  m  Ms  soul,  sounded  the  yoice  of  his  conscience. 

The  unhappy  man  was  at  last  almost  driven  to  despair 


370  Tffs  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

Another  sermon,  however,  gave  him  new  courage.  He 
heard  that  "  charity  covereth  a  multitude  of  sins,"  "that  God 
can  never  despise  a  contrite  and  humble  heart."  He  heard 
that  good  works,  alms-deeds,  as  also  perfect  contrition,  obtain 
from  God  the  forgiveness  of  our  sins.  He  now  applied  him 
self  with  all  the  fervor  of  his  soul  to  the  practice  of  good 
works.  He  spent  whole  nights  in  prayer,  he  fasted  long 
and  frequently,  he  performed  the  most  rigorous  penances, 
he  bestowed  liberal  alms  on  the  poor,  he  visited  prisons  and 
the  hospitals,  he  assisted  and  consoled  the  suffering  and 
dying  ;  but  though  he  consoled  many  and  many  a  one, 'there 
was  no  consolation  for  himself.  Every  moment  his  conscience 
upbraided  him:  "You  must  do  the  one,  and  the  other  you 
must  not  omit "  ;  you  must  do  good  works,  but  you  musl 
also  confess  your  sins  ! 

The  unhappy  nobleman  had  now  tried  all  that  man  could 
do,  had  tried  every  means  but  the  only  right  one,  and  had 
tried  all  in  vain.  There  was  but  one  resource  left.  He  was 
weary  of  life,  and  was  resolved  to  end  it  by  suicide.  He 
stepped  into  his  carriage  and  drove  off  to  his  country-seat. 
As  he  passed  along  the  road  he  overtook  a  venerable  old  man, 
whom  he  recognized  as  a  religious  priest.  The  nobleman 
immediately  stopped  his  carriage  and  invited  the  aged  priest 
to  enter.  The  priest,  in  order  to  please  the  nobleman,  yielded 
to  his  request.  The  good  old  father  was  very  friendly  and 
talkative.  They  spoke  of  various  things,  and  the  conversa 
tion  soon  turned  upon  religious  matters.  The  priest  spoke 
at  length  of  the  clearly-distinctive  notes  of  the  Holy  Catho 
lic  Church.  He  spoke  with  a  joyous  pride  of  her  holy 
Sacraments,  especially  of  that  most  touching  proof  of  God's 
infinite  mercy— the  holy  Sacrament  of  Confession.  ••  What 
hope  could  there  be  for  the  poor  sinner,"  cried  he,  with  en 
thusiasm — "  what  hope  could  there  be  were  it  not  for  con 
fession  ?  Yes,  yes,  confession  is  the  last  plank  after  ship 
wreck  ;  confession  is  the  sinner's  last  and  only  hope  of 


NECESSITY  OF  CONFESSION.  371 

salvation."  At  these  words  the  nobleman  started  up  as  if 
gtung  by  a  serpent.  "  What  !  "  cried  he,  •'  what  is  that  you 
say  ?  Do  you  know  me  ?  How  do  you  know  me  ?  "  The 
priest  was  quite  astonished  by  this  sudden  outburst,  and  ex 
cused  himself,  saying:  "  My  dear  sir,  I  have  never  before 
had  the  honor  of  knowing  you.  If  I  have  inadvertently 
said  anything  to  wound  your  feelings,  you  must  excuse  me. 
Old  people,  you  know,  are  generally  talkative.  However, 
if  you  should  have  any  troubles  of  conscience,  you  may  be 
sure  I  would  be  only  too  happy  to  assist  you."  "  But," 
cried  the  nobleman,  excited,  "what  if  I  do  not  wish  to 
confess  ?"  "  Oh  !  then,"  said  the  priest,  quietly,  "if  you 
do  not  wish  to  confess,  why  then — never  mind  it.  You 
know  there  are  other  means."  These  last  words  fell  as  a  ray 
of  sunshine  upon  the  djeary  and  clouded  soul  of  the  noble 
man.  "  There  are  other  means,"  thought  he,  and  he  began 
to  breathe  again  freely  once  more.  He  now  felt  the  greatest 
confidence  in  the  good  old  priest,  promised  him  solemnly 
that  he  would  be  willing  to  undergo  every  penance  if  he 
could  only  be  relieved  from  the  objection  of  going  to  con 
fession.  They  soon  arrived  at  the  country-seat,  and  the 
priest  was  obliged  to  stay  over  night.  They  passed  the 
evening  in  agreeable  conversation.  The  hour  for  retiring 
came,  but  the  nobleman  would  not  suffer  the  priest  to  re 
tire  to  rest  until  he  revealed  to  him  those  "  other  means  " 
of  which  he  had  spoken.  The  priest  now  advised  him  to 
remain  awake  yet  for  a  few  hours  to  enliven  his  confidence 
in  God,  and  to  examine  his  conscience  carefully.  "  Not,  of 
course,"  said  he,  "in  order  to  confess,  for  that  you  do  not 
wish  to  do,  but  that  you  may  call  to  mind  all  your  sins,  and 
be  truly  sorry  for  them.  To-morrow  morning  I  will  tell  you 
the  rest." 

You  may  imagine  that  the  nobleman  slept  little  that 
night.  Early  the  next  morning  he  was  at  the  priest's  door. 
"  I  have  complied  faithfully  with  your  injunction*," 


372  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

he.  "  What  have  I  to  do  next  ?  "  "  Oh  !  all  you  have  to 
do  now,"  answered  the  priest,  smiling,  "is  to  come  with  me 
into  the  garden."  They  stepped  forth  into  the  cool  morn 
ing  air.  "Well,  how  are  you,"  said  the  priest,  in  a  kind 
tone.  "Do  you  not  feel  better  ?"  "Better  !"  answered 
the  nobleman,  "  oh  !  no  ;  far  from  it."  "  But,"  said  the 
priest,  "  perhaps  you  forgot  something  in  your  examen  of 
conscience.  Did  you  think  of  this  sin,  and  this,  and  this?  " 
And  so  he  went  on  gradually  through  the  long  train  of  sins 
of  which  the  human  heart  is  capable.  He  descended  into  the 
deepest  depths  of  human  degradation,  and  named  even  those 
sins  that  are  so  dark  and  shameful  that  one  is  afraid  to  ac 
knowledge  them  to  himself. 

Scarcely  had  the  good  priest  named  a  certain  sin  when  the 
nobleman  became  greatly  agitated.  .He  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands  and  sobbed  aloud.  "  Yes  !  That's  it  I  That's  it  ! 
That  is  the  abominable,  the  accursed  sin  that  I  cannot 
— that  I  will  not  confess."  The  priest  could  not  help 
weeping  at  witnessing  the  struggle  of  this  poor  soul.  He 
consoled  the  nobleman,  and  told  him  that  there  was  no  need 
of  confessing  it  any  more.  "  You  have  confessed  already," 
said  he  ;  "  let  it  now  be  forgotten.  You  can  include  what 
ever  other  sins  you  remember,  and  now  kneel  down  and  re 
ceive  the  absolution."  The  nobleman  fell  on  his  knees  and 
wept  like  a  child.  He  kissed  again  and  again  the  hand  of 
the  aged  priest,  and  arose  with  a  heart  as  light  as  if  he  had 
that  of  an  angel  who  never  knew  aught  of  sin.  He  felt  as 
if  he  stood  in  a  new  creation.  Never  before  did  the  sun 
shine  so  brightly  ;  never  before  did  the  heavens  look  so 
blue  ;  never  before  did  the  birds  sing  so  sweetly.  His  hap 
piness  was  as  a  foretaste  of  heaven. 

If  we  have  followed  the  Prodigal  in  his  sinful  career,  let 
us  now  follow  him  also  in  his  good  confession.  Let  us  say 
with  him :  "  I  will  go  to  my  father  and  say  to  him  :  father  I 
have  sinned  against  Heaven  and  before  thee.  I  am  no  more 


NECESSITY  OF  CONFESSION.  373 

worthy  to  be  called  thy  son  "  ;  *  and  our  heavenly  Father 
will  receive  us  again  into  His  grace  and  friendship.  He  will 
look  upon  us  again  as  His  children,  and  say  to  His  angels  : 
"  Behold  this  poor  siim<;r,  he  was  dead  and  is  come  to  lifo 
again,  he  was  lost  and  is  found."  "  Confession  is  the 
prate  to  heaven  "  f 

*  Luke  XT.  18, 1».  t  St.  Augustine, 


CHAPTER    XX. 

QUALITY  Otf  THE   PRODIGAL'S   CONFESSION — ITS   INTEGRIX1. 

A  FAMO  US  missionary  in  Italy  was  one  day  preaching  to 
-&  an  immense  multitude.  He  stood  in  the  open  air, 
under  the  clear  blue  sky,  and  the  wide  field  around  him  was 
thronged  with  the  thousands  who  had  come  to  hear  him. 
It  was  summer,  and  the  lofty  trees  around  with  their  rich 
foliage  made  an  agreeable  shade  to  the  audience.  A  dead 
silence  fell  upon  all,  and  all  eyes  were  riveted  upon  the 
speaker.  There  he -stood,  his  arms  extended,  his  eyes  raised 
to  heaven ;  he  was  rapt  in  ecstasy.  A  moment  more  and 
the  missionary  broke  the  solemn  stillness,  and  cried  aloud  in 
a  voice  so  strong  and  awful  that  it  caused  the  ears  of  his 
hearers  to  tingle,  and  penetrated  the  very  marrow  of  their 
bones  :  "  Oh  !  my  brethren,  how  many,  many  souls  are 
damned.  Just  now  God  opened  my  eyes,  and  I  saw  the 
souls  of  men  falling  into  hell  as  the  dead  leaves  fall  in  the 
harvest-time."  And,  lo  !  as  he  spoke,  a  mighty  wind  there 
arose,  and  the  green  leaves  dropped  from  the  trees  though 
it  was  yet  summer,  and  the  earth  was  strewn  with  the  fallen 
leaves,  and  all  who  heard  him  were  filled  with  unspeakable 
terror. 

Were  God  to  open  our  eyes  this  moment,  we  would  also 
see  how  the  souls  qf  men  even  now  are  falling  into  hell 
thick  as  the  snow-flakes  fall  in  winter.  Did  not  the  Son  of 
God  come  on  earth  to  save  all  men  ?  Did  not  the  Blessed 
Jesus  pour  out  the  last  drop  of  his  heart's  blood  to  rescue 
all  men  from  hell  ?  Did  he  not  make  the  way  to  heaven  so 
easy  that  all  we  have  to  do  to  be  saved  is  to  will  it  earnestly  ? 


QUALITY  OF  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION.       375 

This  is  all  most  true,  and  yet  even  now  the  souls  of  men  are 
falling  into  hell.  And  why  ?  There  is  scarcely  one  in  the 
world  who  has  never  committed  a  sin  ;  and  there  are  few, 
very  few  who  have  never  committed  a  mortal  sin  ;  and  there 
are  millions  who  never  confess  their  sins,  never  repent  of 
them  ;  and  millions  again  who  confess  them,  indeed,  but 
who  do  not  confess  them  all,  or  who  do  not  confess  them  in 
a  manner  as  they  ought. 

In  order  to  obtain  the  forgiveness  of  our  sins  in  con 
fession,  the  confession  must  be  like  that  of  the  Prodigal  Son. 
His  confession  was  humble.  "  Father,"  he  said,  "  I  am  not 
now  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son,  for  I  have  sinned  against 
Heaven  and  before  thee."  Our  confession  must  always  be 
humble,  for  in  being  humble  it  will  always  be  entire  ;  that 
is,  no  mortal  sin  will  be  purposely  omitted  or  concealed.  He 
who  is  truly  sorry  for  his  sins  is  most  willing  to  confess  them 
all ;  he  is  even  apt  to  confess  them  more  minutely  than  is 
necessary.  Integrity  of  confession  is  required  for  eternal 
salvation  ;  for  any  deadly  sin  purposely  omitted  will  never 
be  blotted  out  of  the  soul.  Should  a  dastardly  fear  and  a 
misplaced  shame  withhold  any  one  from  making  known  to 
his  confessor  a  single  mortal  sin,  he  will,  on  this  account 
alone,  remain  under  God's  displeasure,  and  in  danger  of 
eternal  perdition. 

There  are  many  instances  of  this.  A  young  person  of 
eighteen,  who  lived  in  Florence,  in  Italy,  had  the  misfor 
tune  to  fall  into  temptation  and  commit  a  great  sin.  No 
sooner  had  she  done  so  than  she  found  herself  covered  with 
confusion  and  torn  with  remorse.  "  Oh  !  "  said  she  to  her 
self,  "  how  shall  I  have  the  courage  to  declare  that  sin  to  my 
confessor  ?  What  will  he  think  of  me  ?  What  will  he 
say  to  me  ? "  She  went,  nevertheless,  to  confession,  but 
dared  not  confess  that  sin.  She  got  absolution,  and  had  the 
misfortune  to  receive  communion  in  that  state.  This  htfr- 
rible  sacrilege  increased  still  more  her  remorse  and  trouble. 


376        QUALITY  OP  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

She  was,  as  it  were,  in  hell,  tormented  day  and  night  by  the 
reproaches  of  her  conscience,  and  by  the  well-founded  fear 
of  being  lost  for  ever.     In  the  hope  of  quieting  ner  con 
science,  she  gave  herself  up  to  tears  and  groans,  to  continual 
prayer,  to  the  most  rigorous  fasts  and  to  the  hardest  priva 
tions  ;  but  all  was  in  vain.      The  remembrance  of  her  first 
crime  and  her  sacrileges  harassed  and  pursued  her  incessantly. 
Her  soul  was,  as  it  were,  in  an  abyss  of  sorrow  and  bitter 
ness.     In  the  height  of  her  interior  anguish  a  thought  came 
into  her  mind  to  go  into  a  convent  and  make  a  general  con 
fession,  in  which  it  would  be  easy  for  her  to  declare  her  sin. 
She  did  so,   and  commenced   the  confession  she  had  pro 
posed  making ;  but  still  enslaved  by  false  shame,  she  related 
the  hidden  sin  in  such  a  garbled,  confused  way  that  her 
confessor  did  not  understand  it,  and  yet  she  continued  to 
receive  communion  in/that  sad  state.      Her  trouble  became 
so  great  that  life  appeared  insupportable.     To  relieve  her 
heart,  tormented  as  it  was,  she  redoubled  her  prayers,  mor 
tifications,  and  good  works  to  such  an  extent  that  the  nuns 
in  the  convent  took  her  for  a  saint,  and  elected  her  for  their 
superior.     Become  superior,   this  wretched  hypocrite  con 
tinued  to  lead  outwardly  a  penitential  and  exemplary  life, 
embittered  still  by  the  reproaches  of  her  conscience.      To 
moderate  her  horrible  fears  a  little,  she  at  length  made  a 
firm  resolution  to  confess  her  sin  in  her  last  illness,  which 
came  sooner  than  she  expected.     Then  she  immediately  un 
dertook  a  general  confession,  with  the  good  intention  of 
confessing  the  sin  she  had  always  concealed  ;  but  shame  re 
strained  her  more  strongly  than  ever,  and  she  did  not  accuse 
herself  of  it.     She  still  consoled  herself  with  the  thought 
that  she  would  declare  it  a  few  moments  before  her  death  ; 
but  neither  the  time  nor  the  power  to  do  so  was  given  her. 
The  fever  rose  so  high  that  she  became  delirious,  and  &o 
died.     Some  days  after,  the  religious  of  the  monastery  beirtg 
in  prayer  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  this  pretended  saint, 


ITS  INTEGRITY.  377 

she  appeared  to  them  iii  a  hideous  form,  and  told  them  : 
"  Sisters,  pray  not  for  me ;  it  is  useless.  I  am  damned  ! " 
"How  ?"  cried  an  old  religious;  "  you  are  damned  after 
leading  such  a  holy  and  penitential  life  !  Is  it  possible  ?" 
"  Alas  !  yes.  I  am  damned  for  having  all  my  life  concealed 
in  confession  a  mortal  sin  which  I  committed  at  the  age  of 
eighteen  years."  Having  said  this  she  disappeared,  leaving 
behind  her  an  intolerable  stench,  the  visible  sign  of  the  sad 
state  in  which  she  was.  This  story  is  related  by  St.  Anto 
ninus,  Archbishop  of  Florence,  who  wrote  in  the  fifteenth 
century.* 

Such  then  is  the  melancholy  end  of  all  those  who  conceal 
their  sins  in  confession  and  die  in  that  state.  They  suffer 
a  hell  in  this  world,  as  well  as  in  that  to  come. 

The  sinner  says,  "  I  feel  so  much  ashamed,  I  cannot  con 
fess  my  sins."  If  the  confession  were  made  to  an  angel,  a 
bright  and  beautiful  spirit  from  heaven,  then  indeed  might 
one  hesitate,  and  feel  afraid  and  ashamed  to  tell  all  his 
shameful  secret  sins  to  a  spirit  so  pure,  so  holy.  Not  to  an 
angel,  however,  have  we  to  confess,  but  to  a  poor  sinful 
mortal  like  ourselves ;  to  a  fellow-creature  subject  to  tempta 
tion  like  ourselves ;  to  one  who  stands  in  need  of  the  grace 
of  God  as  much  as  we  do  ;  to  one,  perhaps,  who  stands  more 
in  need  of  God's  grace  than  we  do,  for  his  duties,  his  respon 
sibilities,  his  dangers  are  far  greater.  Why  then  should  we 
be  afraid  to  tell  our  sins  to  the  priest  ?  What  is  there  in 
the  priest  that  should  cause  fear  in  us  ?  Shame  ?  Is  it  not 
better  to  suffer  a  little  shame  now  than  to  endure  unuttera 
ble  shame  on  the  day  of  judgment  and  eternal  shame  in 
hell? 

Tertullian,   who    lived    in    the    second    century,   said  : 

"  There  are  many  Christians  who  are  ashamed  to  confess 

their  sins,  thinking  more  about  their  shame  and  confusion 

than  about  their  salvation.     Though  we   hide   something 

*  Abb4  Favre,  Le  del  Ouvert,  46. 


ii78       QUALITY  OF  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

from  men,  can  we  hide  it  also  from  God  ?  Which  is  better  : 
to  be  damned  for  having  concealed  our  sins,  or  to  be  saved 
for  having  confessed  them  ?  " 

One  day  a  certain  priest  saw  the  devil  standing  at  the 
confessional.  He  asked  him  what  he  was  doing  there. 
"  I  make  restitution,"  answered  the  devil ;  "  I  give  back  to 
the  sinner  the  shame  which  I  took  from  him  when  about 
to  commit  sin."  This  is  always  a  very  successful  trick  of 
the  devil.  When  he  sees  any  one  about  to  commit  sin,  he 
takes  away  from  him  all  fear  and  shame  ;  but  as  soon  as  he 
nas  committed  it,  the  devil  gives  him  back  all  the  fear  and 
shame  he  had  taken  from  him,  and  thus  throws  the  unhappy 
soul  into  despair. 

When  the  wolf  wishes  to  carry  off  a  lamb,  he  seizes  his 
helpless  victim  by  the  throat,  so  that  it  cannot  warn  the 
shepherd,  and  cannot  cry  for  help.  It  is  thus  that  the 
infernal  wolf,  the  devil,  acts  with  souls.  He  is  afraid  that 
they  will  tell  their  sins  and  thereby  escape  from  his  clutches ; 
ne  therefore  holds  them  by  the  throat,  so  that  they  cannot 
make  a  full  and  candid  confession. 

"Remark,"  says  St.  Anthony  of  Padua,  "that  through 
many  chambers  can  the  demon  have  access  to  the  house  of 
our  conscience — that  is,  our  mind — but  that  only  through 
one  door  can  he  be  expelled,  that  is,  through  the  mouth,  by 
confession.  He  can  enter  by  the  five  senses,  but  only  by 
the  lips  can  he  be  ejected.  When,  therefore,  the  demon 
has  obtained  possession  of  this  castle,  the  first  thing  he  does 
is  to  block  up  the  way  by  which  he  could  be  driven  out — 
that  is,  he  makes  man  mute ;  for  with  this  door  closed  he 
feels  secure  in  his  possession.* 

Sin  and  obstinacy  tie  the  tongues  of  many  sinners.    We 

read  in  the  Magnum  Speculum  that  a  person  possessed  by 

the  devil  was  led  to  a  holy  man,  to  whose  questions  the 

domon  said  :  "  We  are  three  within  him  ;  I  am  called  Clau- 

*  Dominica  ill.  in  Quad. 


ITS  INTEGRITY.  379 

dens  Cor  (the  closer  of  the  heart)  ;  my  office  is  to  prevent 
men  from  having  contrition  ;  but  if  I  fail,  then  my  brother, 
called  Claudens  Os  (the  closer  of  the  mouth),  endeavors  to 
prevent  him  from  confessing  his  sins;  but  if  he  confesses 
and  is  converted,  my  third  brother  here,  named  Claudens 
Bursam  (the  closer  of  the  purse),  labors  to  prevent  him 
from  making  restitution,  filling  his  mind  with  the  fear  of 
poverty;  and  he  succeeds  more  frequently  than  either  of  us." 

The  famous  Socrates  was  one  day  going  along  the  street, 
and  happening  to  pass  a  house  of  ill  fame,  he  saw  the  door 
open  and  one  of  his  own  disciples  coming  out.  As  the 
young  man  beheld  Socrates,  he  was  filled  with  shame  and 
went  back  into  the  house.  But  Socrates  went  to  the  door 
and  called  him:  "  My  son,"  said  he,  "leave  this  house 
instantly,  and  know  that  it  is  indeed  a  disgrace  to  enter 
such  a  house,  but  it  is  an  honor  to  leave  it."  What  So 
crates  said  to  his  frail  disciple  is  wholesome  advice  for 
Christians.  It  is  indeed  a  shame,  a  dishonor,  to  commit 
sin  ;  but  it  is  a  glory,  an  honor,  to  confess  it.  By  sin  we 
become  enemies  of  God  and  slaves  of  the  devil,  but  by  con 
fession  we  again  become  children  of  God  and  heirs  of  heaven. 

Suppose  we  were  afflicted  with  a  very  dangerous  cancer  ; 
should  we  be  ashamed  to  go  to  the  physician  and  tell  him 
about  it  ?  Would  we  not  suffer  him  even  to  probe  the 
painful  wound  ?  Certainly  we  would ;  and  why  ?  Because 
life  is  very  dear  to  us,  and  we  are  willing  to  endure  the 
greatest  pain  and  the  greatest  humiliation  rather  than  lose 
our  life.  And  shall  we  not  suffer  a  little  pain,  a  little 
humiliation,  to  save  our  immortal  soul  ?  Can  we  not  endure 
a  little  shame  in  order  to  free  our  soul  from  the  horrible 
cancer  of  mortal  sin  ? 

Suppose  we  owed  a  hundred  millions  of  dollars  to  a  king. 
But  the  king  being  moved  with  pity,  forgives  us  the  whole 
debt  on  condition  that  we  go  to  one  of  his  ministers  to 
acknowledge  this  immense  debt,  upon  which  acknowledg- 


580       QUALITY  OF  THE  PRODIGAL? s  CONFESSION: 

ment  the  minister  is  to  give  us  a  receipt  of  payment. 
Should  we  not  feel  only  too  happy  to  pay  off  our  great  debt  on 
so  easy  a  condition  ?  Should  we  not  go  at  once  and  comply 
most  cheerfully  with  such  a  condition  ? 

But  do  we  not  know  how  great  a  debt  we  have  contracted 
with  Almighty  God  by  a  mortal  sin  ?  This  is  a  debt  which 
all  the  money  of  the  world,  all  the  saints  in  heaven,  all  the 
good  works  of  the  just  on  earth,  are  not  sufficient  to  cancel ; 
nay,  even  the  fierce  fires  of  hell,  though  burning 
throughout  all  eternity,  can  never  destroy  a  single  mortal 
sin.  It  is  a  debt  which  makes  us  so  hideous  in  the  sight 
of  God  that,  could  we  be  permitted  to  enter  with  it  into 
heaven,  we  should  at  once  empty  that  beautiful  abode  of 
eternal  bliss  of  all  its  angels  and  saints.  See  then  how 
good  the  Lord  is.  To  pay  off  this  debt,  and  to  obtain  a 
receipt  for  it,  all  that  He  requires  of  us  is  to  go  to  a  lawful 
minister  of  His — to  a  priest — and  acknowledge  to  him  the 
full  amount  of  our  debt.  Can  that  condition  be  too  hard 
which  affords  us  an  opportunity  to  escape  hell  ?  Indeed 
God  has  shown  Himself  extremely  indulgent  on  this  point. 
He  could  certainly  have  made  a  far  more  difficult  condition 
as  the  means  of  obtaining  pardon,  as  the  only  path  to  salva 
tion  and  the  only  plank  left  after  shipwreck. 

Confession  is  the  great,  the  wonderful  institution  of  the 
infinite  mercy  of  God.  There  have  been  many  sinners  who 
have  entered  the  confessional  without  the  least  intention  of 
changing  their  conduct ;  many  even  have  entered  for  no 
other  purpose  than  to  mock  the  priest  and  ridicule  this 
divine  institution ;  but  they  went  away  quite  changed. 
They  entered  as  wolves  and  left  as  iambs. 

The  good  priest  spoke  to  them  kindly,  his  heart  was 
touched  with  pity  for  them;  he  made  them  enter  into 
themselves  and  reconciled  them  with  their  God. 

It  is  related  of  St.  Alphonsus  that  he  never  sent  away 
a  sinner  without  giving  him  absolution.  Now,  it  is  morally 


ITS  INTEGRITY.  3$; 

certain  that  many  a  sinner  came  to  him  who  was  not  disposed 
to  receive  absolution.  But  then  the  great  saint  spoke  to  the 
poor  sinner  with  the  utmost  kindness;  he  represented  to 
him  in  forcible  language  the  miserable  condition  of  his 
soul,  and  the  great  danger  of  eternal  damnation  ;  he  in 
spired  him  with  a  salutary  fear  of  the  judgments  of  God, 
and  at  the  same  time  prayed  hard  and  with  tears  in  his 
eyes  to  Jesus  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  and  to  the  Blessed 
Virgin  Mary,  to  obtain  for  the  sinner  that  change  of  heart 
and  that  sorrow  which  disposed  him  for  the  forgiveness  of 
his  sins,  for  the  worthy  reception  of  the  sacrament  of 
penance.  Go,  then,  to  confession,  and  go  without  fear  ;  ask 
the  priest  to  be  kind  enough  to  help  you  make  a  good  con 
fession.  If  you  experience  a  particular  difficulty  in  confess, 
ing  a  certain  sin,  tell  your  confessor  of  the  difficulty,  and 
he,  in  his  kindness,  will  make  all  easy  for  you.  All  that  is 
necessary  to  be  done  is  to  answer  his  questions  with  true 
sincerity  of  heart. 

Suppose  you  fell  into  a  deep  pit,  filled  with  fierce,  venom 
ous  serpents,  would  you  be  ashamed  to  take  hold  of  the 
rope  which  a  friend  let  down  in  order  to  draw  you  out  of 
the  horrible  place  ?  Would  you  not  seize  the  rope  with 
eagerness  ?  Would  you  not  be  for  ever  thankful  to  the 
friend  who  had  delivered  you  from  the  poisonous  fangs  of 
the  serpents  ?  Most  certainly  you  would.  And  have  you 
no  thanks  to  offer  your  best  and  truest  friend,  the  priest  of 
God?  Will  you  not  suffer  him  to  deliver  you  from  the 
poisonous  fangs  of  the  hellish  serpents,  that  have  been  so 
long  swarming  in  your  soul  ?  Will  you  not  suffer  the  priest 
to  free  you  from  the  power  of  those  demons  of  hell,  that  for 
years  have  been  haunting  you,  have  been  tempting  and  tor- 
menting  you  day  and  night,  sleeping  and  waking  ?  Will  you 
not  suffer  the  priest  to  free  you  from  the  devils,  who  are  ever 
trying  so  hard  to  deprive  you  of  the  glory  and  joys  of  heaven, 
to  drag  you,  with  them,  deep  down  into  the  flames  of  hell  ? 


382       QUALITY  OF  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

"  But  oh  ! "  you  will  say,  "  if  I  tell  such  a  sin  the  priest 
will  be  scandalized  and  horrified.  I  am  sure  he  never 
before  heard  such  dreadful  sins  as  mine.  What  will  he 
think  of  me  ?  " 

What !  the  priest  will  be  scandalized  ?  Did  you  ever 
know  of  a  physician  being  scandalized  or  offended  at  a  pa 
tient  for  being  very  sick  ?  Why,  the  very  fact  of  his  being 
sick  is  precisely  the  reason  why  the  physician  comes  to  him. 
If  he  were  well,  he  would  not  need  the  physician.  The 
priest  is  the  physician  of  the  soul,  and  it  is  precisely  be 
cause  the  soul  is  sick  that  you  stand  so  much  in  need  of  his 
assistance.  A  father  feels  more  compassion  for  a  sick  child 
than  for  one  that  is  well. 

"  The  priest  never  heard  such  sins  before."  That  is  un 
fortunately  a  sad  mistake.  The  priest  must  study  for  many 
long  years  to  prepare  himself  for  the  sacred  ministry.  Be 
fore  he  is  ever  permitted  to  enter  the  confessional,  he  must 
study  for  years  in  moral  theology  every  possible  sin  that  man 
can  commit.  He  must  study  his  own  heart,  and  the  know 
ledge  of  his  own  heart  gives  him  an  insight  into  the  hearts 
of  his  fellow-men.  He  knows  from  his  own  experience 
how  strong  are  the  human  passions,  how  weak  the  human 
heart.  He  knows  every  fold  of  the  heart ;  its  most  secret 
desires,  its  hidden  weakness,  its  natural  tendency  to  evil. 
The  priest  has  had,  moreover,  a  long  experience  in  hearing 
confessions.  It  is  his  duty  often  to  probe  the  inmost  re 
cesses  of  his  heart ;  he  has  to  become  acquainted  with  sin 
in  its  most  hideous  and  revolting  forms.  There  is  little 
reason  to  fear  that  the  priest  will  be  astonished  at  what  is 
told  him  ;  and  if  he  should  seem  astonished,  it  is  not  so 
much  at  the  sins  which  the  sinner  confesses  as  that  he  has 
not  fallen  into  even  greater  sins. 

You  say,  "  If  I  tell  such  a  shameful  sin,  what  will  the 
priest  think  of  me  ?  He  will  have  a  bad  opinion  of  me." 
The  priest  will  honor  you  for  your  courage  if  you  make  a 


ITS  INTEGRITY.  383 

frank,  honest  confession.  It  is  certain  that  it  requires  more 
courage  to  make  a  clear,  candid  confession  than  it  does  to 
brave  death  upon  the  battle-field.  The  courage  of  the 
soldier  on  the  battle-field  is  a  mere  animal  courage.  The 
horse  and  the  mule,  too,  rush  headlong  into  the  very  jaws 
of  death  ;  but  the  courage  of  him  that  confesses  even  his 
most  secret  sins  is  moral  courage,  it  is  sterling  virtue. 
Men  who  brave  death  on  the  battle-field  display  in  that  ac 
tion  less  real  moral  courage  than  a  little  school-girl  does  who 
goes  to  confession ;  they  had  not  courage  enough  to  go  to 
confession;  they  were  cowards,  they  dared  not.  Many  a 
young  man  who  thinks  himself  very  brave,  and  who  would 
be  insulted  if  you  called  him  a  coward,  is  a  coward  who 
dares  not  go  to  confession. 

The  priest  will  honor  the  sincere  penitent,  he  will  esteem 
him,  he  will  even  love  him ;  for,  by  making  a  candid  con 
f  ession,  he  has  become  a  child  of  God  and  an  heir  of  heaven  ; 
and  after  confession  the  soul  becomes  bright  and  beautiful  as 
an  angel  of  God. 

At  the  close  of  a  mission  where  St.  Francis  de  Sales  had 
spent  day  and  night  in  hearing  confessions,  he  wrote  to  St. 
Jane  Frances  de  Chantal  as  follows  :  "  Oh  !  how  great  is 
my  joy  over  the  conversion  of  so  many  souls.  I  have  been 
reaping  in  smiles  and  in  tears  of  love  amongst  my  dear 
penitents.  0  Saviour  of  my  soul !  how  great  was  my  joy 
to  see,  among  others,  a  young  man  of  twenty,  brave  and 
stout  as  a  giant,  return  to  the  Catholic  faith,  and  confess  his 
sins  in  so  holy  a  manner  that  it  was  easy  to  recognize  the 
wonderful  workings  of  divine  grace  leading  him  back  to  the 
way  of  salvation.  I  was  quite  beside  myself  with  joy." 

Another  time  a  great  sinner  brought  himself  with  much 
repugnance  to  make  a  general  confession  to  St.  Francis  de 
Sales,  in  which  he  detailed  the  many  sins  of  his  youth.  The 
aaint,  charmed  by  the  great  humility  with  which  the  peni 
tent  went  through  the  painful  task  of  confessing  his  sins, 


384       QUALITY  OF  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

expressed  to  him  his  joy  and  satisfaction.  "  You  wish  to 
console  me,"  said  the  penitent,  "  because  you  cannot  esteem 
such  a  guilty  creature  as  I  am."  "  You  are  mistaken,"  an 
swered  the  saintly  bishop  ;  "  I  would  be  a  perfect  Pharisee 
were  I  to  look  upon  you  as  a  sinner  after  absolution.  At 
the  present  moment  your  soul  is,  in  my  estimation,  whitei 
than  snow,  and  I  am  bound  to  love  you  for  two  reasons — the 
first,  because  of  the  confidence  you  have  shown  me  by  can 
didly  opening  your  heart  to  me  ;  and  the  second,  because, 
being  the  instrument  of  your  birth  in  Jesus  Christ,  you  are 
my  son.  And  as  to  my  esteem  for  you,  it  equals  the  love 
that  I  bear  you.  By  a  miracle  of  the  right  hand  of  God,  I 
see  you  transformed  from  a  vessel  of  ignominy  to  a  vessel 
of  honor  and  sanctification.  Moreover,  I  should  indeed  be 
very  insensible  did  I  not  participate  in  the  joy  that  the 
angels  themselves  feel  on  account  of  the  change  wrought  in 
your  heart ;  how  I  love  that  heart  which  now  loves  the  God 
of  all  goodness  ! "  The  penitent  went  away  so  satisfied  that 
ever  after  his  greatest  delight  was  to  go  to  confession.* 
Such  is  the  joy  and  love  of  every  priest  for  and  over  every 
poor  sinner  who  has  sincerely  confessed  his  sins. 

But  you  will  say :  "  Oh  !  if  I  tell  such  horrid  sins,  the 
priest  will  scold  me."  Could  you  but  look  into  the  priest's 
heart,  you  would  not  judge  him  so  harshly.  The  priest  is 
indeed  an  enemy  of  sin,  but  he  is  the  truest  friend  of  the 
sinner.  The  priest  knows  very  well  how  much  it  costs  to 
make  a  confession.  How  often  has  your  wife,  or  your  mother, 
or  your  sister,  or  some  kind  friend,  entreated  and  even 
scolded  you  before  you  would  consent  to  go  to  confession. 
How  often  has  your  conscience  warned  and  terrified  you 
before  you  would  consent  to  confess.  The  priest  knows  all 
this  very  well.  He  knows,  too,  how  often  you  made  up 
your  mind  to  go  to  confession,  how  you  lost  courage  and 
put  the  confession  off  till  some  other  time.  He  knows  all 

*  Spirit  of  St.  Francis  de  Sate*. 


ITS  INTEGRITY.  385 

the  enquiries  you  made,  all  the  pains  you  took  to  find  out 
an  easy  confessor,  one  who  would  not  be  too  hard  on  you. 
The  priest  knows  also  how  much  time  you  spent  in  preparing 
for  confession,  in  waiting  for  your  turn  at  the  confessional ; 
how  you  lost  thereby  a  good  day's  work,  and  were  even  in 
danger  of  losing  your  employment.  The  priest  knows  of 
all  your  sacrifices  and  struggles  ;  and  do  you  think  he  will 
scold  you  or  treat  you  harshly  when  you  come  to  him  in 
spite  of  all  these  obstacles  ?  Oh  !  no.  The  priest  knows 
from  his  own  experience  how  much  it  costs  to  make  a  full 
and  candid  confession.  He  is  a  man  like  yourself,  he  has 
a  human  heart,  human  weaknesses,  temptations  like  your 
self.  He  too  has  to  cast  himself  at  the  feet  of  a  brother 
priest  for  confession. 

Our  divine  Saviour  assures  us  that  the  angels  of  heaven 
rejoice  over  one  who  gives  up  sin  and  enters  upon  a  life  of 
penance.  Be  says  that  there  is  even  more  joy  in  heaven 
over  one  sinner  doing  penance  than  over  ninety-nine  just 
who  need  not  penance.  If  the  angels  of  heaven  rejoice 
when  you  come  repentant  to  confession,  will  not  the  heart 
of  the  priest  rejoice  when  he  sees  you  humbly  kneeling 
before  him  ?  As  the  heart  of  a  mother  rejoices  on  finding 
her  long-lost  child,  so  does  the  heart  of  the  priest  rejoice 
when  he  sees  the  poor  lost  prodigal  returning  home  at  last. 

" Oh  !"  you  will  say,  "but  perhaps  the  priest  will  speak 
of  my  sins,  and  reveal  them  to  others." 

Suppose  you  were  to  confess  your  sins  to  the  wall,  would 
you  be  afraid  that  your  sins  would  be  revealed  ?  You  may 
be  just  as  certain  that  the  sins  you  tell  the  priest  will  never 
be  revealed.  The  priest  is  bound  by  the  most  sacred,  the 
most  solemn  obligations — he  is  bound  by  every  law,  natural, 
ecclesiastical,  and  divine — to  observe  the  utmost  secrecy  with 
regard  to  every  sin  and  imperfection  revealed  to  him.  He 
is  not  allowed  to  speak  of  your  sins  out  of  confession,  even 
co  yourself,  unless  you  give  him  permission  to  do  so.  So 


386       QUALITY  OF  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION: 

strict  is  the  obligation  of  the  seal  of  confession  that  could 
the  priest  release  all  the  damned  souls  in  hell  by  revealing 
a  single  sin  he  heard  in  confession,  he  would  not  be  per 
mitted  to  do  so.  Nay,  he  must  even  suffer  imprisonment 
and  death — he  must  be  willing  to  endure  every  torment — 
rather  than  break  the  seal  of  confession. 

One  of  the  greatest  monsters  that  ever  sat  on  a  throne 
was  Wenceslaus  IV.,  King  of  Bohemia.  So  great  were  his 
debaucheries  that  he  was  generally  called  by  his  subjects 
"  Wenceslaus  the  drunkard."  As  is  always  the  case  with 
wicked  men,  he  became  jealous  of  his  wife.  Being  resolved 
to  find  out  whether  his  suspicions  were  well  grounded,  he 
sent  for  the  confessor  of  the  queen.  This  confessor  was  the 
holy  priest,  St.  John  Nepomuck.  The  tyrant  commanded 
the  priest  to  reveal  all  that  the  queen  had  confessed  to  him. 
St.  John  answered  firmly  that  such  a  thing  was  utterly  im 
possible.  The  emperor  tried  to  win  the  saint  by  rich  pre 
sents;  but  the  confessor  spurned  such  a  sacrilegious  pro 
posal.  The  emperor  threatened  him  with  imprisonment  and 
death.  The  confessor  answered:  "  I  can  die,  but  I  cannot 
break  the  seal  of  confession."  The  tyrant  ordered  him  to 
be  put  to  the  torture.  The  holy  confessor  was  stretched  on 
the  rack,  burning  torches  were  applied  to  his  side,  he  was 
commanded  to  reveal  the  secrets ;  but  he  only  raised  his 
eyes  to  heaven  and  repeated  again  and  again  the  sweet 
names  of  Jesus  and  Mary.  The  tyrant,  furious  at  seeing 
himself  thus  baffled,  ordered  the  holy  priest  to  be  set  at 
liberty.  A  few  days  afterwards,  St.  John  was  crossing  the 
bridge  over  the  river  Moldau,  which  flows  through  the  city 
of  Prague.  It  was  night.  The  holy  confessor  noticed  that 
men  were  following  him  slowly.  He  recommended  himself 
to  God,  and  went  on  courageously.  When  he  had  reached 
the  middle  of  the  bridge,  just  above  the  most  rapid  part  of 
the  current,  the  ruffians  who  were  following  rushed  upon 
him,  bound  him  hand  and  foot,  and  cast  him  into  the  river. 


ITS  iNTEQRFl'Y.  387 

There  was  none  to  witness  the  sacrilege,  but  the  all-seeing 
eye  of  God  beheld  it.  And  God  soon  revealed  the  murder 
ous  deed  and  proclaimed  the  sanctity  of  his  servant.  A 
thousand  brilliant  lights— like  twinkling  stars— appeared  on 
the  dark  flood,  and  floated  over  the  body  of  the  glorious 
martyr.  The  people  rushed  in  crowds  to  behold  the  wonder. 
The  tyrant  himself  witnessed  it  from  his  palace  window. 
He  could  murder  the  glorious  confessor,  but  he  could  not 
prevent  the  people  from  honoring  him.  Next  morning  the 
priests  of  the  city,  with  the  bishop  at  their  head,  followed 
by  vast  numbers  of  people,  went  in  solemn  procession  and 
carried  the  body  of  the  brave  martyr  in  triumph  to  the 
cathedral.  The  church  now  honors  St.  John  of  Nepomuck 
as  a  saint  and  martyr,  and  his  blessed  tongue,  which  refused 
to  violate  the  seal  of  confession,  is  still  incorrupt  after  a 
lapse  of  more  than  three  hundred  years,  and  appears  as  if  it 
still  belonged  to  a  living  man.  Thus  suffered  and  died  St. 
John  of  Nepomuck,  rather  than  break  the  seal  of  confes 
sion,  and  so  must  every  Catholic  priest  suffer  and  die  rathei 
than  breathe  a  word  of  what  he  has  heard  in  confession. 

Every  priest  can  say  most  truthfully  with  St.  Augustine  : 
"  That  which  I  know  by  confession  is  less  known  to  me 
than  that  which  I  do  not  know  at  all."  Yes,  the  breast  of 
the  priest,  of  this  angel  of  peace,  is  a  sealed  abyss  which 
neither  the  fire  nor  the  sword  of  tyrants  can  open.  The 
law  which  shuts  the  lips  of  the  confidant  of  our  secrets  is  so 
rigidly  strict  that  no  interest  in  the  world — not  even  the 
safety  of  an  empire,  not  even  the  safety  of  his  own  life,  nay, 
not  even  the  safety  of  any  kind  of  good  imaginable — can 
authorize  its  violation. 

It  may  be  further  observed  that  if  any  one  forms  the 
habit  of  concealing  faults,  venial  though  they  be,  he  ex 
poses  himself  to  the  danger  of  having,  at  the  hour  of  death, 
to  withstand  the  fierce  assaults  of  his  hellish  foes,  who  at 
that  last  moment  avail  themselves  of  every  slight  advau- 


388        QUALITY  OF  THE  PRODIGAL  s  CONFESSION: 

tage,  and  bring  up  against  him  all  his  sins,  mortal  and 
venial,  to  throw  his  poor  soul  into  consternation  ;  and  if  they 
chance  to  find  sins  not  confessed,  even  though  these  be  not 
looked  upon  by  us  as  mortal,  they  exaggerate  and  magnify 
them  in -their  baneful  light,  and  make  them  appear  greater 
than  they  really  are,  in  order  to  force  the  sinner  into  dis 
couragement,  dejection,  and  despair  of  God's  mercy.  Ve 
nerable  Bede  relates  that  a  certain  soldier,  who  was  a  great 
favorite  of  King  Coered,  was  often  exhorted  by  him  to  go  to 
confession,  as  the  king  was  aware  of  the  ungodly  life  the 
man  was  leading,  and  with  how  many  sins  his  soul  was  de 
filed.  But  the  soldier  parried  all  the  pious  king's  endea 
vors,  by  promising  to  fulfil  his  duty  at  some  more  conveni 
ent  season.  Being  at  length  seized  with  a  dangerous  disease, 
the  king,  for  the  love  he  bore  him,  went  in  person  to  visit 
him,  and  profited  by  the  occasion  to  exhort  him  anew  to 
settle  his  accounts  with  God  by  an  exact  confession.  The 
sick  nuin  replied  that  he  meant  to  confess  on  Ms  recovery, 
because  he  feared  that  if  he  should  confess  before  getting 
well,  his  friends  might  say  that  he  did  it  out  of  fear  of 
death.  The  king  most  graciously  returned  to  pay  him  a 
second  visit,  and  on  his  entering  the  room  the  sick  man  be 
gan  to  exclaim:  "Sire,  what  do  you  want  with  me  now  ? 
You  can  give  me  no  help!"  "  What  folly  is  this?"  re 
plied  the  king,  in  an  indignant  tone.  "  No  folly,"  replied 
the  dying  man,  "  but  the  very  truth.  Know  thou  that  but 
a  few  minutes  ago  there  came  into  the  room  two  youths  of 
most  engaging  appearance,  who  presented  rne  with  a  book, 
beautiful  indeed  to  look  at,  but  very,  very  small  in  size.  In 
it  I  saw  the  list  of  my  good  deeds  registered  ;  but,  good 
God  !  how  few  and  how  trifling  they  are  !  Behind  these 
youths  appeared  a  group  of  infernal  spirits,  horrible  to  be 
hold,  one  of  whom  bore  on  his  shoulders  a  vast  volume  of 
great  weight,  which  contained,  written  in  dread  characters, 
the  list  of  my  sins.  I  read  there  not  only  my  grievous  but 


ITS  INTEGRITY.  389 

even  my  most  trivial  offences,  those  which  I  committed  in 
passing  thought.  At  the  first  appearance  of  this  frightful 
vision,  the  chief  of  the  infernal  crew  said  to  these  two  au- 
gelic  youths :  '  What  are  you  staying  here  for,  since  you 
have  neither  part  nor  lot  in  this  man,  who  is  already  oar 
prey?'  '  Take  him,  then/  replied  the  latter,  'and  lead 
him  whither  the  burden  of  his  iniquities  is  weighing  him 
down.'  At  these  words  they  disappeared.  Then  one  de 
mon  struck  me  a  blow  with  a  fork  on  the  head,  another  on 
the  feet,  which  makes  me  suffer  fearful  torments,  and  I  now 
feel  them  creeping  into  my  very  vitals,  whence  they  will  soon 
tear  out  my  wretched  soul."  *  Having  said  this,  he  breathed 
his  last  most  miserably. 

Mark  well  that  the  devils  reproached  this  wretched  man 
with  the  sins  he  had  committed  by  passing  thoughts, 
although  they  were  well  aware  that  he  was  laden  with  a 
multitude  of  the  most  grievous  sins,  which  would  have 
sufficed  for  his  damnation.  Certain  it  is  that  the  enemy  has 
often  made  use  of  venial  sins  at  the  hour  of  death  as  power 
ful  engines  of  war  for  the  undoing  of  the  servants  of  God. 
Ecclesiastical  history  bears  witness  to  the  truth  of  this 
statement. 

We  should,  therefore,  discover  to  our  confessor  all  the 
temptations  of  the  demon,  and  all  our  evil  inclinations.  We 
should  confess  with  simplicity — that  is,  without  duplicity  or 
excuses,  or  cloaking  our  failings.  To  excuse  the  evil  intent 
whereby  we  have  sinned  is  not  to  confess,  but  rather  to  hide 
and  excuse  faults.  This  is  not  to  appease  but  rather  to  irri 
tate  the  Divine  Majesty.  We  should  not  strive  to  excuse 
our  sin  or  give  it  another  face,  either  alleging  that  we  have 
been  led  into  it  by  the  persuasion  of  others,  or  else  by  en 
larging  on  the  occasions  which  have  tempted  us  to  trans 
gress.  Women,  especially,  are  too  apt  to  commit  this  fault 
in  their  confessions.  They  like  to  tell  long  stories,  intc 
*  Hist.  Eccl.,  lib.  v.  c.  14. 


390      QUALITY  OF  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION. 

which  they  interweave  the  history  of  their  sins  at  full 
length  ;  the  upshot  of  which  is  that  they  lay  the  blame  on 
their  neighbors,  or  on  such  of  their  household,  servants  or 
other  people,  as  may  have  given  occasion  to  their  transgres 
sions.  At  times,  too,  it  happens  that,  overcome  by  a  cer 
tain  shame,  they  excuse  their  intention,  giving  it  some  color 
of  goodness,  or  at  least  making  it  appear  less  bad  than  it 
really  was.  For  God's  sake,  let  them  be  on  their  guard 
against  such  double-dealing,  as  this  mode  of  confessing  sins 
is  excusing  rather  than  accusing  themselves  of  their  faults. 
In  this  manner  of  confessing  they  run  great  risk  of  not  re^ 
ceiving  pardon  at  all,  or  at  least  of  not  deriving  from  the 
sacrament  all  those  advantages  which  they  hoped  to 
receive. 

Let  every  one,  then,  approach  this  sacrament  with  an  effi 
cacious  sorrow  for  sin,  to  which  must  be  joined  profound 
humility  and  an  unshaken  trust  in  God's  mercy.  Let  all 
declare  with  great  simplicity,  and  without  palliation  or  ex 
cuse,  all  their  sins  as  well  as  their  evil  dispositions,  such  as 
generally  give  rise  to  sins.  By  doing  this  frequently,  espe 
cially  when  burdened  with  some  notable  transgression,  not 
only  shall  we  be  wholly  cleansed,  but  we  shall,  moreover, 
gain  strength  against  similar  falls  for  the  future. 

It  is  true  that  the  fulfilment  of  the  duty  of  confessing  our 
sins  is  difficult,  but  in  complying  with  this  duty  we  must  not 
consider  the  difficulty,  but  rather  our  salvation,  and  the  in 
valuable  peace  that  flows  therefrom.  The  confessional  is  not 
a  tribunal  established  to  brand  the  guilty  one  with  disgrace, 
nor  to  pronounce  a  sentence  that  may  ruin  his  reputation  or 
dishonor  his  memory,  but  a  tribunal  whose  office  it  is  to  re 
establish  us  in  our  forfeited  birthrights,  and  to  bring  back 
to  our  souls  that  heavenly  peace  and  happiness  which  had 
been  banished  from  it  by  sin. 

See  the  sinner  after  confession  :  his  countenance  is  radiant 
with  beauty ;  his  step  has  become  again  light  and  elastic, 


ITS  INTEGRITY.  391 

because  he  has  thrown  off  a  load  that  bent  him  to  the  earth  ; 
his  soul,  feeling  itself  once  more  free  and  the  companion  of 
angels,  reflects  upon  its  features  the  holy  joy  with  which  it  is 
inebriated  ;  he  smiles  upon  those  whom  he  meets,  and  every 
one  sees  that  he  is  happy.  He  has  again  entered  that  sweet 
alliance  with  God,  whom  he  can  now  justly  call  his  Father  ; 
he  trembles  now  no  more  when  he  lifts  his  eyes  to  heaven  ; 
he  hopes,  he  loves  ;  he  sees  himself  reinstated  in  his  dig 
nity  of  a  child  of  God,  and  he  respects  himself.  Now 
that  the  soul  rules  over  the  body,  a  supernatural  strength 
vivifies  and  animates  him ;  he  feels  himself  burning  with 
zeal  and  energy  to  do  good ;  a  new  sun  has  risen  upon  his 
life,  and  everything  in  him  puts  on  the  freshness  of  youth. 

Confession  is  resurrection — sweet  resurrection,  indeed. 
Oh  !  what  happiness  and  consoling  joy  dost  thou  bring  us. 
Ah  !  how  unhappy  are  they  who  know  not  the  sublimity  of 
confession,  who  know  not  the  calm  and  peace  that  follow 
from  it. 

0  confession  !  precious  pledge  of  the  immense  love  of 
our  Divine  Master  !  Oh  !  the  sweet, the  delicious  tears  with 
which  thou  bedewest  our  cheeks  !  Oh!  the  gnawing  remorse 
to  which  thou  puttest  an  end  !  What  undefmable  happiness, 
what  unspeakable  peace  dost  thou  bring  to  poor  sinners  ! 
How  many  men  who  live  in  the  lap  of  ease  and  affluence, 
who  are  clothed  in  purple  and  gold,  have  searched  the  whole 
world  to  fi7id  a  little  peace  for  their  souls,  and  have  only  been 
able  to  find  it  in  confession  ! 

Fortune,  with  an  unsparing  hand,  had  lavished  all  her 
favors  upon  them,  and  the  world  all  its  honors ;  health  and 
strength  had  been  given  them  ;  and  still  their  life  was  a 
burden  and  weighed  heavily  upon  their  shoulders.  They 
came  to  kneel  in  the  confessional,  and  by  revealing  what 
was  hidden,  what  was  so  heavily  pressing  upon  them,  they 
instantly  found  that  which  they  looked  for  in  vain  through 
the  world — they  found  the  first,  the  most  desirable  of  all 


392       QUALITY  OF  THE  PRODIGAL'S  GONFESSTON  • 

good — ease  of  mind  and  peace  of  conscience.  Among  the 
thousands  of  examples  which  could  be  inserted,  the  pleasing 
instance  of  the  conversion  of  a  brave  officer  by  a  sermon  of 
Father  Brydaine  will  suffice. 

Wishing  to  hear  so  illustrious  a  preacher,  the  officer 
entered  the  church  at  the  very  moment  that  this  pious  priest 
was  speaking  on  the  advantages  of  a  general  confession. 
The  officer,  convinced  of  his  arguments,  i-mmediately  formed 
the  resolution  of  going  to  confession.  Accordingly,  he  went 
up  to  the  pulpit,  spoke  to  Father  Brydaine,  and  decided 
upon  remaining  there  until  the  end  of  the  retreat.  He 
made  his  confession  with  all  the  sentiments  of  a  true  peni 
tent.  It  seemed  to  him,  as  he  himself  said,  that  a  heavy 
load  was  taken  off  from  his  head.  The  day  on  which  he 
had  the  happiness  of  receiving  absolution  saw  him  bathed 
in  tears  as  he  left  the  confessional — in  those  sweet  tears 
that  love  and  gratitude  drew  in  torrents  from  his  eyes.  He 
followed  the  saintly  father  into  the  sacristy,  and  there, 
before  a  number  of  other  missionaries,  the  faithful  and  edi 
fying  officer  thus  expressed  the  sentiments  with  which  he 
was  animated  : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  beg  you  to  listen  to  me,  and  you  espe 
cially,  Father  Brydaine.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  felt  any 
pleasure  equal  to  that  which  I  feel  since  I  have  made  my 
peace  with  God.  Eeally  I  do  not  believe  that  Louis  XV., 
whom  I  have  served  for  thirty-six  years,  can  be  happier 
than  I  am.  No,  the  king,  in  all  the  magnificence  that  sur 
rounds  his  throne,  though  seated  in  the  lap  of  pleasure,  is 
not  so  contented  and  happy  as  I  am  since  I  shook  oft  the 
horrible  load  of  my  sins." 

And  then  throwing  himself  at  Father  Brydaine' s  feet 
and  taking  his  hands  in  his,  "  How  I  ought  to  thank  God," 
Baid  he,  "for  having  led  me  by  the  hand,  as  it  were,  to  this 
place.  0  father  !  nothing  was  farther  from  my  thoughts 
than  that  which  you  have  induced  me  to  do.  I  can  never 


ITS  INTEGRITY.  393 

torgwt  you.  I  bog  of  you  to  pray  to  God  that  He  may  give 
nic  time  to  do  penance  ;  if  He  assists  me  I  feel  that  noth 
ing  will  appear  too  difficult  to  me."  Such  is  the  joy  of 
every  prodigal  son  of  the  church  after  a  good  confession. 

Yes,  the  confessional  is  the  threshold  of  the  Father's 
house ;  it  is  at  the  confessional  that  the  unhappy  prodigal 
finds  an  indulgent  Father,  who  pardons  and  embraces  him. 
It  is  here  that  the  sad  tale  of  woe  ever  finds  an  attentive 
ear,  that  sorrow  is  never  useless,  and  that  a  sigh  from  the 
heart  of  man  is  always  sure  to  penetrate  the  heart  of  God. 

It  is  here  that  that  unheard-of  scene  between  three  persons 
takes  place,  where  the  sinner  fills  the  office  of  accuser,  ac 
cused,  and  witness;  and  the  priest  that  of  instructor  and 
judge — and  that  in  the  presence  of  a  God  who  is  present 
only  to  execute  and  ratify  the  sentence.  Here  everything 
is  divine,  everything  mysterious.  Here  justice  and  mercy 
unite  in  the  kiss  of  peace.  Here  hell  is  closed  for  the  guilty 
one,  because  he  has  laid  open  his  heart.  Here  heaven  comes 
down  to  the  sinner,  because  the  sinner  humbles  himself. 
Here  the  fires  of  God's  judgments  are  quenched  in  the  tears 
of  repentance.  Here,  by  one  act  of  obedience  and  humility, 
the  proud  sinner  cancels  a  whole  life  of  iniquity  and  re 
bellion.  Here  shines  again  that  light  which  banishes  incer 
titude  and  remorse,  and  which  establishes  anew  the  inter 
rupted  communion  of  man  with  God  and  His  saints.  Let  a 
man  be  ever  so  disfigured  with  crime,  let  him  be  so  poor  as 
not  to  have  even  a  crust  of  bread,  or  let  him  be  so  rich  as 
not  to  be  able  any  longer  to  form  an  unsatisfied  wish  ;  let 
him  be  so  unhappy  as  not  even  to  wish  for  hope,  or  so  de- 

uriod  by  remorse  of  conscience  as  to  be  unable  to  enjoy  a 
moment' 3  repose  or  an  instant  of  forgetfulness  ;  and  then  let 
/  iia  came  hither  and  cast  himself  on  his  knees,  for  here 
there  la  an  ear  to  listen  to  him,  a  power  capable  of  absolving 
him,  and  a  tender  heart  still  able  and  willing  to  love  him. 

He  shall  not  be  required  to  make  known  either  his  name, 


394        QUALITY  OF  THE  PRODIGAL'S  CONFESSION. 

rank,  or  position  in  society  ;  all  that  shall  be  enacted  from 
him  is  a  hearty  sorrow  for  his  sins,  and  an  humble  obedi 
ence  to  that  voice  that  invites  him  to  be  converted  and  to 
change  his  ways.  God,  who  sees  and  knows  all  things, 
requires  no  more  of  him.  See,  already  peace  comes  back  to 
him,  and  he  has  gained  heaven ;  pardon  descends  upon  his 
head,  and  he  who  imparts  it  to  him  in  the  name  of  God 
knows  but.  this  :  that  he  has  absolved  a  sinner,  and  made 
him  unspeakably  happy.  Indeed,  without  confession, 
without  this  salutary  institution,  guilty  man  would  fall  into 
despair.  Into  what  bosom  could  he  discharge  the  load  that 
weighs  so  heavily  on  his  heart  ?  Into  his  friend's  ?  Ah  !  who 
can  trust  in  the  friendship  of  men  !  Would  he  make  the 
trackless  deserts  his  confidants  ?  To  the  guilty  one  the 
very  deserts  seem  to  re-eoho  continually  to  the  loud  cries  of 
his  conscience.  When  nature  and  men  are  merciless,  it  is  a 
touching  thing  to  find  a  God  ready  to  pardon.  The  Catho 
lic  religion  alone  is  the  first  and  only  one  that  has  joined 
together,  like  two  sisters,  innocence  and  repentance. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
THE  PRODIGAL'S  SORROW — CONTRITION. 

"ITORE  than  eighteen  centuries  have  passed  since  the  Son 
of  God  accomplished  the  great  work  of  redemption  by 
His  bitter  passion  and  death.  As  the  time  of  His  sufferings 
drew  nigh,  Jesus  entered  Jerusalem  with  His  disciples  ;  and 
the  people  of  the  city,  on  learning  of  His  approach,  hastened 
forth  to  meet  Him.  In  their  hands  they  bore  branches  of 
the  palm  and  the  olive  ;  they  spread  their  garments  on  the 
ground  before  Jesus  ;  they  filled  the  air  with  loud  hosannas, 
and  with  sweet  hymns  of  praise  and  gladness.  But  strange 
to  say,  amidst  the  music  and  rejoicing — amidst  the  glory 
of  His  triumphant  entry,  Jesus  is  sad;  Jesus  weeps  and 
sobs  aloud  as  if  His  heart  would  break.  This  is  indeed 
strange  beyond  expression.  Was  Jesus  sad  because  He  dis 
liked  rejoicings  ?  Oh  !  no.  For  we  see  Him  often  present  at 
banquets  of  the  Pharisees.  We  see  Him  present  at  the 
merry  wedding  feast  of  Cana,  where,  in  order  to  increase 
the  gaiety,  He  works  arj  unheard-of  miracle,  and  changes 
water  into  wine.  Jesus  was  no  enemy  of  innocent  rejoic 
ings.  Why,  then,  does  He  weep  midst  the  rejoicings  of  His 
triumphant  entry  into  Jerusalem  ?  Jesus  Himself  tells  us 
the  cause  of  His  tears.  He  protests  that  He  weeps  because 
Jerusalem  does  not  know  Him.  "  0  Jerusalem,  didst  thou 
but  know,  this  day,  the  things  that  are  for  thy  peace  ;  but 
now  they  are  hidden  from  thine  eyes."  *  What  can  this 
mean  ?  Why,  the  whole  city  can  scarce  contain  itself  for 
joy.  No  sound  is  heard  save  that  of  praise  and  gladness. 

*  Luke  xix. 
890 


396  THE  P  R  GDI  o  A  L'S  So  tin  o  w : 

"  Blessed  be  the  king  who  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lol  J, 
peace  in  heaven,  and  glory  on  high."*  Such  is  the  trium 
phant  hymn  with  which  the  people  greet  Jesus;  and  yet 
Jesus  weeps  and  laments  because  the  city  does  not  know 
Him.  "  Oh  !  didst  thou  but  know  and  understand  this 
day."  * 

j,  Such  was  the  welcome  which  Jesus  received  from  the 
'Jewish  people;  such,  too,  is  the  welcome  which  He  re 
ceives  at  the  present  day  from  so  many  of  His  own  Chris 
tian  people.  He  is  welcomed  by  all,  He  is  known  but  t</ 
few.  Like  the  Jewish  people,  many  Christians  welcome 
Jesus  ;  they  hasten  to  the  sacraments  with  every  outward 
mark  of  devotion  ;  but  like  the  Jews,  too,  though  they  wel 
come  Jesus,  though  they  receive  Jesus,  they  do  not  know 
or  care  to  know  Jesus.  In  spite  of  the  solemnity  of  the 
season,  in  spite  of  the  outward  marks  of  devotion,  so  many 
Christians  of  the  present  day  often  approach  the  sacraments 
with  such  little  preparation,  with  such  unworthy  disposi 
tions,  that  instead  of  being  a  joy  and  honor  to  Jesus,  they 
rather  fill  His  heart  with  sadness.  They  load  Him  with 
insult. 

Let  us  return  to  Jerusalem  a  few  days  after  the  trium 
phant  entry  of  Jesus.  Behold  this  very  same  Jewish  people. 
They  are  following  an  unhappy  criminal  who  is  being  led  to 
death.  Ask  them  who  this  criminal  is,  and  they  will  tell 
you,  '''It  is  Jesus  of  Nazareth."  What!  Jesus  of  Na 
zareth  ?  Is  it  possible  ?  Is  not  this  the  same  Jesus  who 
was  welcomed  only  a  few  days  ago  with  such  unparalleled 
honors  ?  Is  not  this  the  same  people  who  but  a  few  days 
ago  cried  out,  "  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord  "  ;  and  now  their  hoarse  cry  rings  wildly  through 
the  air,  "  Crucify  him  !  crucify  him  !  "  Yes,  it  is  the  very 
same  Jesus  ;  it  is  the  very  same  people.  No  wonder,  then, 
that  Jesus  wept  on  the  day  of  His  triumph.  No  wondei 
*  Luke  xir. 


CONTRITION.  397 

that  He  complained  that  this  people  did  not  know  Him. 

0  ungrateful  people  !  could  yon  not  dishonor  Jesus  by  a 
shameful  death,  without  first  honoring  Him  with  such  a 
.glorious  triumph  ? 

But  let  us  turn  to  ourselves.  Were  a  stranger  to  pass 
through  the  city  at  the  season  of  Lent,  were  he  to  see  the 
churches  so  well  filled,  and  the  confessionals  so  well  crowded 
with  penitents,  what  a  good  opinion  would  he  form  of  the 
Catholics  here.  Wherever  we  turn  Ave  behold  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  countenances  stamped  with  contrition — every 
where  signs  of  sincere  devotion.  Here  truly,  he  would  say, 
Jesus  is  honored;  here  He  rejoices,  here  He  celebrates  a 
glorious  triumph.  Yes;  but  return  here  in  two  months,  in 
two  weeks  even,  and  the  penitent  faces  will  be  seen  at  par 
ties,  balls,  theatres,  frolics,  in  drinking-saloons ;  at  the 
gambling-table  the  very  same  hands ;  in  families,  among 
relatives  and  neighbors,  the  very  same  quarrels;  in  the 
stores  the  same  false  weights,  the  same  fraud  ;  the  old 
curses  and  blasphemies  will  be  heard  in  the  streets  and  public 
places.  This  is  indeed  a  change  of  scene,  and  this  change 
of  scene  is  renewed  every  Easter. 

'  Whence  comes  this  fickleness  ?  The  Jewish  people,  in  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  hastened  forth  to  meet  Jesus 
without  well  knowing  whom  they  welcomed.  So  in  like 
manner  many  Christians,  carried  away  by  the  devotion  of 
the  season,  hasten  to  welcome  Jesus  without  knowing  Him  ; 
they  hasten  to  be  reconciled  to  Jesus  without  understanding 
well  whom  it  is  they  have  offended.  The  prophet  bitterly 
bewails  such  blindness  : .  "  There  is  not  one  who  does  penance 
for  his  sins,  not  one  who  asks  himself  seriously,  What  have 

1  done  ?  "  *     This  is  the  origin  of  the  sad  inconstancy  of  the 
greater  part  of  Christians.     Did  they,  like  the  Prodigal,  but 
fully  understand  the  greatness  of  their  sins,  they  would, 
like  him,  truly  repent  of  them.     But  such  is  not  the  case 

*  Jer.  viti. 


398  Tms  PRODIGAL'S  SORROW: 

They  have  no  true  contrition,,  and,  consequently,  they  soon 
fall  again  and  again  into  the  very  same  sins  that  they  have 
but  a  short  time  before  confessed. 

Now,  it  is  of  faith  that  true  sorrow  for  our  sins  is  abso 
lutely  necessary  for  salvation,  for  if  there  is  no  true  sor 
row  there  can  be  no  pardon.  The  examen  of  conscience  is 
necessary ;  but  were  we  to  spend  a  whole  year  in  examining 
our  conscience  without  sincere  sorrow  or  contrition,  we  can 
not  obtain  pardon. 

Confession  is  necessary  ;  but  it  may  happen  that  we  for 
get  a  sin,  or  cannot  find  a  confessor,  or  that  we  cannot  speak 
the  language  of  the  priest,  or  that  we  have  lost  our  speech. 
In  such  cases  it  will  be  sufficient  if  we  make  an  act  of  perfect 
contrition,  with  the  sincere  resolution  to  confess  our  sins  as 
soon  as  possible.  But  were  we  to  confess  all  our  sins  with 
even  the  minutest  accompanying  circumstances,  if  we  have 
no  contrition  we  cannot  obtain  pardon. 

Satisfaction  is  necessary ;  but  it  is  sometimes  impossible, 
and  may  be  dispensed  with.  A  person,  for  instance,  may 
be  too  poor  to  make  restitution  ;  in  that  case  it  will  suffice 
if  he  have  the  sincere  desire  to  restore  as  soon  as  possible. 
But  though  he  were  to  restore  everything  and  had  not  true 
sorrow,  he  eould  not  receive  forgiveness. 

Absolution  is  necessary ;  but  sometimes  there  is  no  priest 
at  hand.  It  will  be  sufficient  then  to  make  an  act  of  perfect 
contrition,  and  have  the  sincere  desire  to  confess  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  we  shall  be  forgiven  ;  but  were  we  to  be  absolved 
by  all  the  bishops  and  priests  of  the  Church,  even  by  the 
Pope  himself,  and  had  not  true  sorrow,  we  should  not  re 
ceive  forgiveness. 

Water  is  necessary  for  baptism  ;  but  when  water  cannot 
be  had,  the  want  may  be  supplied  by  the  baptism  of  desire, 
or  by  the  baptism  of  blood  ;  but  if  contrition  is  wanting,  its 
lack  cannot  be  supplied  by  anything  whatever,  Xo  contri 
tion — no  pardon  ! 


CONTRITWN.  399 

So  important,  so  necessary  is  contrition  that,  though  a 
sinner  were  guilty  of  all  the  crimes  that  ever  have  been  or 
ever  will  be  committed  on  the  face  of  the  earth — if  he  has 
out  true  contrition,  he  can  and  ought  to  be  absolved  ; 
while,  on  the  contrary,  he  who  has  only  committed  a  slight 
venial  siu — if  he  has  no  contrition,  cannot  and  should  not 
receive  absolution. 

God  will  not  pardon  without  contrition.  "  It  is,"  as 
Tertullian  says,  "the  only  price  for  which  God  pardons." 
God  cannot  pardon  without  contrition,  for  to  be  without 
sorrow  foi  an  offence  is  to  give  new  and  continued  offence. 

True  contrition,  then,  is  absolutely  necessary.  To  have 
the  desire  for  contrition  is  good;  but  the  wish  is  not  suffi 
cient.  Tears  are  good,  but  tears  are  not  sufficient.  It  is 
not  sufficient  to  look  sad  and  strike  the  breast  again  and 
again  ;  it  is  not  sufficient  to  read  the  act  of  contrition  out 
of  a  book  ;  it  is  not  sufficient  to  mutter  the  act  of  contrition 
with  the  lips.  No  !  contrition  must  be  real  and  heartfelt. 

What  then  is  contrition  ?  Contrition  is  a  hearty  sorrow 
for  having  offended  God.  It  includes  a  sincere  hatred  of 
sin,  and  the  firm  resolution  to  offend  God  no  more.  Every 
sin  and  vice,  as  our  dear  Saviour  Himself  declares,  proceeds 
from  the  heart  and  has  its  seat  in  the  heart.  When  we  sin, 
it  is,  properly  speaking,  not  our  eyes,  or  ears,  or  tongue, 
"lie  members  of  our  body  that  sin,  but  the  soul,  animating 
ou"  members.  The  soul  uses  the  senses  as  the  instruments 
of  sin.  It  is  the  soul,  the  will,  that  sins,  and  consequently 
it  is  the  soul,  the  will,  that  must  repent.  Our  contrition, 
then  must  necessarily  be  interior  and  heartfelt.  The  very 
word  contrition  itself  implies  its  true  nature.  Contrition  is 
derived  from  the  Latin  word  *'conterere,"  which  means  to 
bruise,  to  crush,  to  break.  To  have  true,  heartfelt  contri 
tion,  therefore,  means  to  be  heartbroken  for  having  offended 
our  dear  Lord. 

T*aia  a^  K.ct  neoeeeftry  as  expressions  of  sorrow  for  sin  ; 


400  THE  PRODIGAL'S  SORROW: 

the  feeling  of  pain  is  not  necessary;  and  yet  the  sorrow  must 
be  real  and  earnest,  proceeding  from  the  heart.  Now,  if 
sincere,  heartfelt  contrition  is  so  necessary,  what  are  we  to 
think  of  those  penitents  who  approach  the  confessional  and 
confess  their  sins  with  such  cool  indifference,  that  one 
might  be  tempted  to  suppose  they  had  come  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  relate  some  interesting  anecdote  ?  If  the 
priest  tells  them  to  make  an  act  of  contrition,  he  must  often 
observe,  to  his  grief,  that  they  do  not  know  how  to  make 
the  act.  Many  of  them  do  not  even  know  what  contrition, 
true  sorrow,  is,  or  what  it  has  to  do  with  confession.  The 
greater  part,  however,  know,  indeed,  how  to  make  an  act  of 
contrition,  but  unfortunately,  even  their  contrition  consists 
generally  in  striking  the  breast  a  fow  times,  and  in  mutter 
ing  a  certain  formula  of  prayer  which  they  learned  in  their 
childhood.  If  the  priest  asks  such  a  penitent  whether  he 
is  sorry  for  his  sins,  the  answer  is  of  course  "yes  "  ;  but  it  is 
a  "  yes  "  that  evidently  does  not  come  from  the  heart — it  is 
a  "  yes  "  that  is  just  about  equivalent  to  '•  no." 

It  is  not  the  number  and  enormity  of  the  sins  that  fill  the 
priest  with  pain  and  anxiety.  It  is  the  want  of  disposition, 
of  true  contrition,  in  the  penitent,  that  causes  him  often  the 
most  cruel  martyrdom. 

The  sorrow  for  sin  must  not  only  be  sincere  and  heartfelt 
—it  must  also  be  a  sorrow  above  every  other  sorrow.  The 
sorrow  which  we  feel  at  the  loss  of  an  object  is  proportionate 
to  the  value  of  the  object.  But  God  is  a  good  infinitely 
superior  to  every  other  possible  good.  Consequently  the 
loss  of  God  should  cause  us  greater  sorrow  than  the  loss  of 
every  other  good.  Great  is  the  sorrow  of  a  poor  orphan  aa 
she  stands  by  the  death-bed  of  her  beloved  mother — as  she 
gazes  on  her  pale,  cold  brow,  and  on  those  loving  eyes 
which  shall  open  upon  her  never  more.  Yet  our  sorrow  for 
having  lost  God  by  sin  must  be  far  greater.  Great  is  the 
sorrow  of  a  tender  mother  as  she  bends  over  the  lifeless 


CONTRITION.  401 

body  of  her  only  child,  the  child  of  her  hope  and  love. 
And  yet  our  sorrow  for  having  offended  God  must  exceed 
even  this  sorrow.  Yes,  if  we  are  truly  sorry  for  our  sins, 
we  must  be  willing  to  lose  our  health,  our  riches,  and  our 
honor ;  to  lose  friends  and  parents,  to  endure  every  pain, 
and  even  death  itself,  rather  than  lose  God  by  consenting 
to  another  mortal  sin.  It  is  not  necessary  that  this  sorrow 
for  losing  God  should  be  sensibly  felt.  We  may  indeed  ex 
perience  more  sorrow  at  the  loss  of  our  honor — at  the  loss 
of  a  dear  friend  or  relative  ;  nevertheless  we  must  be  ready 
to  lose  all  rather  than  lose  God.  We  may  feel  more  terror 
at  the  sight  of  torment  and  death,  and  yet  we  must  be  ready 
to  suffer  the  most  cruel  death  rather  than  consent  to  a 
single  mortal  sin. 

Contrition  must  not  only  be  interior  and  sovereign,  it 
must  also  be  supernatural.  We  must  be  sorry  for  having 
sinned,  because  by  sin  we  have  offended  and  lost  so  good  a 
God. 

Antiochus  Epiphanes,  King  of  Syria,  committed  many 
enormous  crimes.  He  ordered  the  faithful  Jews  to  be 
cruelly  massacred ;  he  plundered  the  Temple,  and  desecrated 
the  Holy  of  Holies.  But  the  vengeance  of  God  was  swift 
and  terrible.  The  impious  king  was  stricken  down  with  an 
incurable  disease.  A  most  excruciating  pain  tortured  him ; 
his  body  was  devoured  by  worms;  his  rotten  flesh  fell  piece 
meal  from  his  body,  and  the  stench  which  proceeded  from 
him  was  intolerable.  The  unhappy  tyrant  began  now  to 
repent  of  his  crimes.  He  promised  God  that  he  would 
restore  everything  he  had  stolen  from  the  Temple  ;  he  even 
promised  that  he  would  renounce  infidelity,  travel  all  over 
the  world,  and  preach  everywhere  the  true  God.  This 
looked  like  an  extraordinary  contrition  ;  yet  the  Holy  Ghost 
tells  us  of  this  man  in  holy  Scripture  :  "  This  wicked 
man  prayed  to  God,  but  in  vain  !  He  received  no  mercy  !  * 
*  2  Mach.  iii.  13. 


402  THE  PRODIGALS  SORROW: 

He  died  in  a  strange  land,  miserably  in  his  sins.  And  why 
RO  ?  Is  not  God  infinitely  merciful  ?  Has  not  God  sworn 
by  Himself  that  "  He  wills  not  the  death  of  the  sinner,  but 
that  he  be  converted  and  live  ?  "  Why  then  did  not  God 
pardon  this  sinner  ?  Although  this  wicked  man  wept  bitter 
tears,  though  he  promised  to  restore  everything,  though  he 
promised  to  change  his  wicked  life — he,  nevertheless,  re 
ceived  no  pardon,  because  his  sorrow  was  only  natural  sorrow. 
He  did  not  weep  for  having  offended  God.  He  only  wept 
because  he  suffered  such  cruel  torments,  and  because  he 
saw  that  he  was  soon  to  die.  His  contrition  was  not  super 
natural.  Look  at  many  a  drunkard  :  he  weeps  ;  he  curses 
the  hour  in  which  he  first  tasted  liquor.  But  why  does  he 
weep  ?  Is  it  because  he  has  offended  God  ?  Oh  !  no.  He 
weeps  because  he  has  lost  his  situation — because  he  has 
fallen  into  disgrace.  His  sorrow  is  therefore  only  natural. 
He  cannot  receive  pardon  on  that  account. 

The  swindler  and  the  thief  are  sorry  for  what  they  have 
done.  But  is  it  because  they  have  offended  God  ?  No  !  They 
are  sorry  because  they  have  been  arrested  and  put  in  prison. 
Such  sorrow  is  vain  before  God,  and  can  merit  no  pardon. 

The  unhappy  young  man  who  has  wasted  his  health  and 
Viappiness  in  striving  to  satisfy  a  brutal  passion,  laments 
and  curses  the  day  on  which  he  was  first  led  into  sin.  But 
does  he  weep  for  having  offended  God  ?  No ;  he  weeps 
because  he  has  ruined  his  health,  because  he  finds  himself 
branded  with  a  shameful  disease,  because  he  feels  that  ho 
is  a  burden  to  himself,  an  outcast,  an  object  of  scorn  to  his 
fellow-men.  His  contrition  is,  therefore,  not  supernatural; 
and  cannot  merit  pardon. 

The  unfortunate  who  sighs  and  weeps  like  another  re 
pentant  Magdalen,  weeps  not  because  she  has  offended  God, 
but  because  she  has  lost  her  honor  ;  because  she  must  now 
hide  her  face  behind  the  veil  of  shame.  Her  sorrow  is  there 
fore  only  natural  sorrow;  she  can  receive  no  pardon  for  it. 


CONTRITION.  403 

Contrition,  then,  in  order  to  be  acceptable  to  God,  must 
be  supernatural.  It  must  come  from  God.  We  must  be 
sorry  for  our  sins  because  by  them  we  have  offended  so 
good  a  God,  and  thereby  lost  heaven  and  deserved  hell. 

But  contrition  must  not  only  be  interior,  sovereign,  and 
supernatural,  it  must  also  be  universal.  We  must  be  sorry 
for  every  sin,  every  mortal  sin,  without  exception.  King 
Saul  was  commanded  by  God  to  destroy  all  the  wicked  in 
habitants  of  Amelec,  and  not  to  spare  even  a  single  one. 
Saul  obeyed,  but  his  obedience  was  not  perfect.  He  de 
stroyed  everything,  he  burned  down  everything,  he  killed  all 
the  common  people,  but  the  king,  who  was  the  most  wicked 
of  all,  he  spared.  God  punished  Saul  for  this  want  of  obe 
dience  by  taking  away  his  crown  and  his  life.  There  are 
many  Catholics  who,  when  they  go  to  confession,  act  just  as 
Saul  acted.  God  has  commanded  them,  under  pain  of  eter 
nal  damnation,  to  destroy  every  mortal  sin,  and  every  affec 
tion  for  mortal  sin,  by  a  sincere  and  universal  contrition. 
They  obey,  indeed,  but  their  obedience  is  not  perfect.  By 
contrition  they  destroy  the  slight,  every-day  failings  ;  but 
there  is  one  pet  sin  that  they  always  spare,  one  wicked 
passion,  their  ruling  passion,  which  they  do  not  destroy  by 
a  true  and  earnest  contrition.  A  certain  person,  for  in 
stance,  comes  to  confession.  He  confesses  that  he  cursed, 
that  he  was  angry.  He  is  perhaps  truly  sorry  for  these  sins  ; 
but  he  has  also  been  drunk  several  times,  and  for  this  sin, 
though  he  may  confess  it,  he  has  no  real,  earnest  sorrow. 
Such  a  man's  confession  is  a  sacrilege  ;  his  sins  are  not 
forgiven. 

Here  is  another  sinner.  He  confesses  that  he  has  eaten 
meat  a  few  times  on  Friday,  that  he  has  missed  Mass  and 
worked  a  few  times  on  Sunday,  but  he  has  also  eaten  meat 
without  necessity  on  fast-days,  he  has  also  missed  Mass  and 
worked  on  holydays  of  obligation  without  necessity.  These 
sins  he  hardly  remembers,  and  has  no  real  contrition  for 


4°4  THE  PRODTGAL'S  SORROW: 

them.  He  has  no  sorrow  for  all  his  mortal  sins,  and,  there 
fore,  he  can  receive  pardon  for  none.  His  confession  is 
worthless. 

Another  confesses  that  he  has  stolen  and  cheated  very 
much;  that  he  has  wantonly  damaged  his  neighbor's  pro 
perty.  He  is  sorry  for  these  sins,  he  is  even  milling  to 
make  restitution  to  the  best  of  his  power.  But  there  is  an 
other  sin  for  which  he  has  no  real,  earnest  sorrow.  He 
often  takes  pleasure  in  immodest  thoughts  and  desires  ;  he 
is  a  slave  to  the  accursed  habit  of  self-abuse.  For  these 
sins  lie  is  not  truly  sorry.  His  confession  is,  therefore,  a 
mockery;  he  can  receive  no  pardon  from  God. 

The  mother  of  a  family  confesses  all  her  sins,  and  is  truly 
sony  for  them.  But  there  are  some  sins  that  she  scarcely 
ever  mentions  in  confession,  some  sins  for  which  she  has  no 
true  contrition.  She  allows  her  children  to  remain  out  late  at 
night  ;  she  does  not  keep  them  away  from  dangerous  com 
pany—from  balls  and  parties;  she  allows  them  to  read  sen 
timental  and  immoral  books — novels,  trashy  love  poetry, 
and  the  like.  Under  the  veil  of  marriage,  she  commits  un 
natural  sins  ;  she  tries  to  hinder  the  most  sacred  laws  of 
nature.  Her  sins  are  not  forgiven. 

A  young  girl  confesses  that  she  has  been  proud  and  \;ain  ; 
that  she  has  been  disobedient  to  her  parents  a  few  times. 
She  is  peril aps  sorry  for  these  sins.  But  there  is  another 
sin  which  she  does  not  mention  in  confession,  and  for  which 
she  has  no  true  sorrow.  She  often  reads  sentimental  and 
dangerous  books  ;  she  often  remains  out  late  at  night  ;  she 
keeps  dangerous  company ;  she  sometimes  allows  improper 
liberties  ;  she  often  harbors  wicked  thoughts  and  desires. 
These  sins  she  does  not  confess,  and,  even  if  she  confesses 
them,  she  has  no  true  sorrow  for  them.  Such  a  person's 
confession  is  worthless  ;  it  is  a  sacrilege.  She  does  not 
obtain  pardon  from  God  ;  but  the  curse  of  God  weighs 
on  her  soul ;  and  until  she  truly  repents  of  these  sins,  110 


CONTRITION.  405 

priest   in    Christendom,  no   bishop,  no  pope,  can   absolve 
her. 

We  must  not  only  confess  all  our  mortal  sins,  but  we  must 
also  be  truly  sorry  for  them,  otherwise  we  can  obtain  pardon 
for  none.  The  reason  for  this  is,  that  God  never  has  par 
doned,  and  by  an  unchangeable  decree  has  bound  Himself 
never  to  pardon,  any  one  unless  he  first  repents  of  all  his 
sins,  and  repents  of  them  from  motives  of  a  supernatural 
character. 

Again,  sorrow  for  our  sins,  to  be  good,  must  be  accompa 
nied  by  a  firm  resolve  not  to  fall  again  into  the  same  sins. 
To  repent  truly  and  sincerely  is  to  grieve  over  the  evil  we 
have  done,  and  to  refrain  from  doing  again  the  evil  over 
which  we  grieve.  In  order  that  our  past  sins  may  not  be 
imputed  to  us,  sorrow  and  tears  are  not  enough,  amendment 
is  also  necessary. 

Cesarius  relates  *  a  frightful  occurrence  which  took  place 
at  Paris.  There  was  in  Paris  a  canon  of  the  Church  of 
Notre  Dame,  who  was  a  priest  in  name,  but  certainly  not 
in  the  practice  of  the  virtues  becoming  his  holy  state. 
This  canon,  being  at  the  point  of  death,  entered  into  him 
self,  acknowledged  the  wretched  state  of  Iris  soul,  and 
seemed  to  be  a  really  penitent  and  entirely  changed  man. 
Having  sent  for  his  confessor,  he  accused  himself,  with 
abundant  tears,  of  all  his  sins,  and  received  the  holy  viati 
cum  and  extreme  unction  with  every  outward  token  of 
piety.  He  then  gently  breathed  out  his  soul  in  peace. 
After  his  death  a  magnificent  burial  service  was  prepared, 
and  the  day  appointed  for  it  was  so  fine  that  it  looked  as  if 
heaven  and  earth  were  leagued  together  in  order  to  enhance 
the  pomp  of  the  funeral  obsequies.  Every  one  deemed  him 
the  happiest  man  that  had  ever  appeared  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  since,  after  having  enjoyed  this  world  to  the  full,  he 
had  by  so  happy  a  death  secured  for  himself  the  glory  of 
*  Mirac.,  lib.  ii.  o.  15. 


406  THE  PRODIGAL'S  SORROW: 

Paradise.  Such  was  the  common  talk  ;  for  man  sees  what 
is  outside,  but  God  beholds  what  lies  hidden  within.  After 
a  few  days  the  canon  appeared  to  a  servant  of  God,  and 
brought  him  the  sad  news  that  he  was  damned.  "  But  how 
so?"  asked  the  holy  man,  quite  astounded;  "you  con 
fessed  with  sorrow  and  tears,  and  received  the  holy  sacra 
ments  with  devotion."  "  True,"  said  the  lost  soul,  "  I  did 
confess,  and  I  was  sorry,  yet  not  with  an  efficacious  sorrow, 
since  my  will,  in  the  very  act  of  repenting,  felt  itself  spur 
red  on  to  sin  afresh  ;  and  I  thought  it  quite  impossible  that, 
if  restored  to  health,  I  should  not  return  to  that  which  I  so 
dearly  loved.  So  that  while  I  detested  the  evil  I  had  com 
mitted,  I  had  no  earnest  and  firm  purpose  of  renouncing 
it."  Having  said  this,  he  disappeared. 

Sorrow  for  our  sins,  moreover,  must  be  accompanied  by 
sincere  humility.  "  God  will  never  despise  a  contrite  heart 
when  he  sees  that  it  is  humbled."*  The  publican  in  the 
Gospel  looked  upon  himself  as  one  of  the  greatest  sinners 
in  the  world.  He  durst  not  so  much  as  lift  up  his  eyes  to 
heaven,  but  held  them  downcast,  and  with  shame  on  his 
countenance  fixed  them  on  the  'ground.  He  smote  his  breast, 
and  thus  moved  God  to  compassion,  appeased  his  wrath, 
and  obtained  his  pardon.  Such  are  the  sentiments  with 
which  we  should  approach  the  holy  tribunal  of  penance.  For 
the  inward  shame  which  we  feel  at  the  sight  of  our  offences 
has  a  large  share  in  obtaining  our  pardon;  and  it  is  out  of 
mercy  to  us  that  God  has  decreed  that,  in  order  to  obtain 
forgiveness,  it  should  not  be  enough  to  repent  in  secret  and 
be  seen  by  Him  alone,  but  that  we  must  express  our  sorrow 
at  the  feet  of  the  priest,  and  thus  be  covered  with  that  most 
wholesome  confusion  which  is  of  so  great  avail  to  obtain 
pardon  for  our  sins. 

If,  like   the  Prodigal,  we  sincerely  acknowledge  before 
God  the  evil  we  have  done  in  sinning,  if  we  consider  the 
*PsaJml. 


CONTRITION.  407 

greatness  of  the  God  whom  we  have  offended,  if  we  con 
sider  our  own  vileness  and  audacity  in  daring  to  insult  a 
God  of  so  great  a  majesty,  we  shall  naturally  feel  humbled 
and  shall  appear  like  criminals  before  the  Lord,  own  our 
abjection  with  great  confusion,  detest  our  misdeeds,  and 
implore  forgiveness :  "  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven 
and  before  thce,  I  am  not  now  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son  ; 
make  mo  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants."1 

The  sinner  thus  humbled  before  God  presents  so  touching 
an  object  in  his  sight  that  lie  is  instantly  roused  to  com 
passionate  pity,  forgives  the  transgressions  of  the  culprit, 
and  hastens  in  all  tenderness  to  clasp  him  lovingly  to  his 
bosom,  to  treat  him  not  as  a  criminal,  nor  as  one  who  has 
ever  been  guilty,  but  as  a  beloved  child.  With  such  humble 
contrition,  with  sorrowful  confusion,  should  the  sinner 
draw  nigh  to  the  laver  of  confession.  He  may  then  rest  as 
sured  that  our  loving  Redeemer,  beholding  him  in  these 
good  dispositions,  will  not  fail  to  shower  clown  His  most  pre 
cious  blood  in  such  abundance  on  him  as  to  cleanse  him 
from  all  stain  and  render  him  whiter  and  purer  than  the  lily. 

But  let  it  be  observed  that  this  humility,  which  should 
ever  accompany  sorrow  for  sin,  must  not  be  false.  Humilitj 
is  false  whenever  it  is  not  joined  with  a  strong  and  firm 
hope  of  obtaining  forgiveness.  There  are  two  sorts  of  hu 
mility  :  one  is  the  gift  of  God,  the  other  comes  from  the 
devil.  The  humility  which  is  God's  gift  brings  with  it,  in 
deed,  a  knowledge  of  our  sins  and  miseries,  but  has  this 
property,  that,  while  it  lowers  the  soul  in  its  own  estimation, 
it  raises  it  to  hope,  and  finally  leaves  it  all  calm  and  repos 
ing  in  the  arms  of  the  Divine  goodness.  The  humility,  how 
ever,  which  is  counterfeit,  and  from  the  devil,  brings  with 
it,  in  like  manner,  a  knowledge  of  our  own  sins  and  weak 
ness,  but  it  has  this  most  injurious  quality,  that,  while  it 
bends  low  the  soul,  it  takes  away  hope,  or  at  least  dirnin- 
*  Luke  xv.  18,  19. 


408  THE  PRODIGAL'S 

ishes  it,  and  leaves  us  full  of  cowardice,  diffidence,  dad  dis 
couragement.  The  humility  which  is  God's  gift  is  holy ; 
that  which  comes  from  the  devil  is  wicked.  The  humility 
\vhich  comes  from  God  disposes  us  for  pardon,  whilst  the 
humility  that  comes  from  the  devil  prevents  forgiveness. 
Our  confessions,  therefore,  must  be  made  in  a  spirit  of  faith 
and  hope  ;  they  should  be  accompanied  with  a  sorrow  not 
only  humble,  but  full  of  faith  and  trust  in  God.  Without 
such  hope  we  should  never  obtain  pardon,  were  we  to  seek 
it  for  all  eternity;  because  sorrow  for  sin,  unaccompanied 
by  hope  of  forgiveness,  so  far  from  appeasing,  only  irritates 
Divine  mercy.  Cain  repented  of  his  crime  after  he  had 
murdered  his  own  brother;  but  because  he  did  not  trust  in 
the  Divine  goodness,  his  sorrow  availed  him  nothing.  "  My 
iniquity,"  he  said  in  his  folly,  "is  greater  than  may  deserve 
pardon."  *  Judas  Iscariot  in  like  manner  repented,  and  ex 
claimed,  with  tears  flowing  down  his  cheeks,  "  I  have  sinned 
in  betraying  innocent  blood."  t  And  further,  he  made  resti 
tution  of  the  money  for  which  he  had  bartered  away  the 
precious  life  of  his  divine  Master.  But  what  did  all  this 
avail  him  ?  Nothing  whatever.  His  sorrow  was  devoid  of 
any  gleam  of  hope  ;  and,  giving  himself  up  for  lost,  he  went 
and  hanged  himself  on  a  tree. 

Of  such  a  nature  is  the  repentance  of  certain  persons  who, 
after  falling  into  some  serious  faults,  or  seeing  that  they  re 
lapse  constantly  into  the  same  sins,  are  filled  with  bitterness, 
distrust,  and  false  humility,  and  say  to  themselves:  "God 
will  not  pardon  me ;  I  think  He  has  turned  His  back  upon 
me,  for  my  weakness  is  beyond  endurance,  and  I  am  contin 
ually  yielding  to  the  same  faults."  Now,  this  is  the  contri 
tion  of  Judas  and  Cain,  devoid  of  all  trust;  in  God's  good 
ness. 

The  devil  appeared  once  to  Faverius,  a  disciple  of  St. 
Bruno,  while  he  was  dangerously  ill  on  his  sick  bed,  and, 
*  Gen.  iv.  13  t  Matt,  xxvii.  4. 


CONTRITION.  109 

jftcr  terrifying  him  in  many  ways,  began  to  remind  him  cf 
his  sins,  and  to  throw  them  in  his  face  with  impudent  as 
surancc.  The  servant  of  God  replied  that  he  had  already 
confessed  these  sins  and  received  absolution,  and  thers'or* 
had  every  cause  to  trust  that  God  had  pardoned  bim. 
"  Confessed  your  sins  !  Confessed  your  sins  !  "  repliei  the 
fiend.  "  You  have  not  told  all ;  you  have  not  mado  a 
proper  confession ;  you  have  not  explained  the  circumstar  C3S 
of  your  sins.  Your  confessions  are  all  invalid ;  they  are 
good  for  nothing ;  they  will  serve  only  to  make  your  judg 
ment  the  heavier."  The  holy  monk,  thus  reminded  of  his 
faults,  shown  to  him  by  the  fiend  in  that  accursed  lip'ct 
which  makes  us  see  things  in  a  false  medium,  and  rspra- 
sents  God  as  always  using  fire  and  the  knife  in  His  treat 
ment  of  sick  souls,  was  greatly  alarmed,  and  began  to  be 
tortured  by  the  most  agonizing  scruples,  being  so  horror- 
stricken  and  full  of  dismay  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  fall 
ing  headlong  into  the  abyss  of  despair.  But  the  ever 
Blessed  Virgin,  the  true  Mother  of  mercy,  who  never  forsakes 
those  who  are  really  devoted  to  her,  appeared  to  him  most 
opportunely  at  this  terrible  moment,  with  her  Divine  In 
fant  in  her  arms,  and  addressed  him  as  follows:  "What 
fearest  thou,  Faverius  ?  wherefore  lose  heart  ?  Hope  and 
be  of  good  cheer;  thou  hast  all  but  reached  the  port.  All 
thy  sins  have  been  forgiven  thee  by  my  most  winning  Child. 
Of  this  I  give  thee  my  assurance."*  At  these  words  the 
racking  and  anguish  felt  by  the  dying  man  at  the  thoughts 
of  his  sins  gave  place  to  a  humble,  confiding,  peaceful  sor 
row,  and  shortly  after  he  breathed  his  last  in  great  calm  of 
soul.  From  this  we  may  perceive  the  difference  between 
contrition,  which  is  God's  gift,  and  that  which  comes 
from  the  devil.  This  latter  is  a  sorrow  full  of  diffidence 
and  disquiet ;  the  former  is  a  trusting  and  peaceful  repent 
ance.  Let  every  one,  then,  ever  strive  after  the  gift  of 

Ex  Annal.  Covrthus. 


410  THE  PRODIGAL  8  SORROW  - 

God,  and  take  care  to  possess  it  whenever  he  goes  to  con 
fession.  This  kind  of  sorrow  alone  appeases  God,  obtains 
pardon  for  sin,  and  perfectly  reconciles  the  soul  with  God. 

There  are  many  persons  who  seem  to  think  that  the  whole 
efficacy  of  the  sacrament  of  penance  depends  on  lengthy  de 
tails,  and  in  saying  in  many  words  what  could  be  all  said  in 
very  few.  The  sign  of  a  good  confession  is  not  the  multitude 
of  words,  but  the  sorrow  of  the  heart,  and  him  alone  may 
we  judge  to  be  converted,  and  to  have  made  a  good  confes 
sion,  who  strives  to  blot  out  by  heartfelt  sorrow  those  sins 
of  which  his  tongue  makes  the  outward  avowal.  The  ver 
bal  confession  of  sin  is  to  be  valued  only  inasmuch  as  it  is 
the  expression  of  a  true  and  heartfelt  repentance.  Our 
dear  Lord  cursed  the  barren  fig-tree,  which,  though  full  of 
branches  and  leaves,  yet  bore  no  fruit ;  so  does  He  reject  and 
abhor  such  confessions  as  abound  in  many  unnecessary 
words,  but  are  barren  of  the  fruit  of  efficacious  contrition. 
Sorrow,  and  great  sorrow,  is  what  is  needed,  not  long  ex 
planations  and  needless  details,  if  confession  is  to  restore 
the  sinner  to  grace.  The  truth  of  this  is  confirmed  by  the 
following  incident. 

Caesarius  Heisterbach  relates  that  a  young  student  at  Paris, 
having  fallen  into  many  very  grievous  sins,  betook  himself 
to  the  monastery  of  St.  Victor,  and,  calling  the  prior,  fell  at 
his  feet  in  order  to  accuse  himself  of  them.  Scarce  had  he 
began  to  open  his  lips  when  his  contrition  became  so  vehe 
ment  that  his  utterance  was  checked,  and  his  confession 
hindered,  by  tears,  groans,  and  convulsive  sobs.  The  con 
fessor,  seeing  that  the  youth  was  unable  from  excessive 
grief  to  say  another  word,  bade  him  write  down  his  sins  on  a 
sheet  of  paper,  and  come  back  again  when  he  had  done  so, 
hoping  that  by  this  means  the  young  man  would  find  it 
easier  to  make  a  confession  of  all  his  crimes.  He  complied, 
and  returned  to  the  same  priest ;  but  no  sooner  did  he  begin 
to  read  from  his  paper  than,  overcome  anew  with  sorrow 


CONTRITION.  411 

and  tears,  he  was  unable  to  proceed.  The  confessor  then 
asked  him  for  the  paper,  and  as  in  reading  it  a  doubt  arose 
in  his  mind  on  some  point,  he  begged  the  penitent's  leave 
to  show  his  confession  to  the  abbot,  in  order  to  get  his  opin 
ion.  The  contrite  youth  willingly  consented,  and  forthwith 
the  prior  went  to  see  the  abbot  and  put  the  paper  into  his 
hands.  The  abbot  on  opening  it  found  nothing  but  a 
blank  sheet,  without  so  much  as  a  single  stroke  of  the  pen 
upon  the  page.  "  How  now,"  said  he,  "  do  you  want  me 
to  read  what  is  not  written  ?  "  "  But,"  replied  the  prior, 
•'  I  have  this  moment  read  on  that  very  paper  the  full  con 
fession  of  this  my  penitent."  Then  both  began  to  examine 
the  paper  afresh,  and  found  that  the  sins  had  been  blotted 
out  of  it,  even  as  they  were  already  blotted  out  of  the  con 
science  of  the  sorrowing  youth.*  Behold!  this  young  stu 
dent  had  not  yet  made  his  confession,  and  still  had  already 
received  a  full  pardon  ;  for  though  he  had  said  nothing  with 
his  tongue,  he  had  spoken  much  with  his  heart,  and  noth 
ing  now  remaitied  for  him  to  do  save  to  fulfil  the  obligation 
of  subjecting  his  sins  to  the  sacramental  absolution. 

One  day  a  great  sinner  went  to  hear  a  sermon  by  St.  An 
tony  of  Padua.  Immediately  after  the  sermon  the  sinner 
approached  the  saint,  and  entreated  him  to  hear  his  confes 
sion.  Though  greatly  fatigued,  Antony  immediately  en 
tered  his  confessional  to  console  the  heart  of  the  penitent. 
But  the  latter  was  so  overcome  with  sorrow  as  to  be  quite 
unable  to  make  his  confession,  his  sobs  and  groans  com 
pletely  depriving  him  of  the  power  of  speech.  As  the  saint 
was  greatly  pressed  for  time,  he  told  his  penitent  to  go 
home  and  write  down  his  sins  and  then  come  back.  The 
man  obeyed :  he  went  home,  wrote  down  his  confession, 
and  then  returned  to  his  confessor.  Now,  when  St.  Antony 
opened  the  paper,  he  saw  with  joy  that  he  held  in  his  hand 
a  blark  sheet  of  such  dazzling  whiteness  that  no  one  would 
*  Histor.  Mirac.,  lib.  v.  cap.  10. 


*I2  THE  PRODIOAL'S  SORROW; 

ever  suppose  it  had  been  written  upon.  The  saint  looked 
upon  tin's  prodigy  as  the  happy  indication  of  perfect  con- 
trition. 

The  grace  of  true  and  sincere  sorrow  for  our  sins  is  no 
water  of  this  earth,  but  of  heaven.  "If  any  assert/'  says 
the  Council  of  Trent,  "that  without  a  preceding  inspiration 
and  grace  of  the  Holy  Ghost  man  can  believe,  hope,  and 
love,  or  repent,  in  such  a  manner  as  he  ought,  let  him  be 
anathema."  "  No  one,"  says  the  holy  Church,  "  can  repent 
of  his  sins  in  such  a  manner  as  he  ought  without  a  par 
ticular  grace  of  God." 

Man,  it  is  true,  can  of  himself  commit  sin  and  offend 
God  grievously,  but  to  rise  again  from  his  fall  by  heartfelt 
sorrow  he  cannot,  except  by  God's  grace.  Now,  this  exceed 
ingly  great  grace  will  be  given  to  us  so  much  the  sooner  the 
more  earnestly  we  pray  for  it,  especially  while  assisting  at 
the  holy  sacrifice  of  the  Mass.  It  was  through  the  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ,  visibly  shed  on  the  cross,  that  the  dying  male 
factor  obtained  the  grace  of  conversion,  of  sincere  repent 
ance.  In  like  manner,  it  is  through  the  same  blood,  invisi 
bly  shed  at  Mass,  that  the  heavenly  Father  will  grant  us  the 
grace  of  true  contrition  for  our  sins  if  we  offer  to  Him  the 
blood  of  His  beloved  Son,  Jesus  Christ,  in  satisfaction  for 
them,  and  beseech  Him,  by  the  merits  of  this  blood,  to 
have  mercy  on  us. 

But  as  our  prayer  may  not  be  fervent  enough  soon  to 
obtain  for  us  this  great  grace  of  contrition,  let  us  have  re 
course  to  the  all-powerful  prayer  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary. 
She  is  the  refuge  of  all  poor  sinners,  and  she  has  ottained 
this  unspeakably  great  favor  for  the  most  abandoned  sin 
ners,  even  in  their  last  hour. 

St.  Teresa  gives  an  account  of  a  merchant  who  lived  at 
Valladolid,  in  Spain.  He  did  not  live  as  a  good  Christian 
should  live  ;  however,  he  had  some  devotion  to  the  Blessed 
Virgin.  When  St.  Teresa  came  to  the  town  wh«re  the 


CONTRITION.  413 

merchant  was  living,  she  wanted  to  find  a  house  for  hei 
nuns.  The  merchant  heard  that  the  saint  was  seeking  a 
house  ;  so  he  went  to  her,  and  offered  to  give  her  a  house 
which  belonged  to  him.  He  said  he  would  give  her  tho 
house  in  honor  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary.  St.  Teresa 
thanked  him,  and  took  the  house.  Two  months  after  this 
the  gentleman  suddenly  became  very  ill.  He  was  not  able 
to  speak  or  make  a  confession.  However,  he  showed  by  signs 
that  he  wished  to  beg  pardon  of  our  Lord  for  his  sins,  and 
soon  after  died.  "After  his  death,"  St.  Teresa  says,  "I 
saw  our  Lord.  He  told  me  that  this  gentleman  had  been 
very  near  losing  his  soul ;  but  He  had  mercy  on  him  when 
he  was  dying,  on  account  of  the  service  he  did  to  His 
blessed  Mother  by  giving  the  house  in  her  honor."  "  I  was 
glad,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "that  his  soul  was  saved,  for  I 
was  very  much  afraid  it  would  have  been  lost  on  account  of 
his  bad  life."  Our  Lord  told  St.  Teresa  to  get  the  house 
finished  as  soon  as  possible,  because  that  soul  was  suffering 
great  torments  in  Purgatory.  It  would  not  come  out  of 
Purgatory  till  the  convent  was  finished  and  the  first  Mass 
said  there.  When  the  first  Mass  was  said,  St.  Teresa  went 
to  the  rails  of  the  altar  to  receive  Holy  Communion.  At 
the  moment  she  knelt  down  she  saw  the  gentleman  stand 
ing  by  the  side  of  the  priest.  His  face  was  shining  with 
light  and  joy,  and  his  hands  were  joined  together.  He 
thanked  St.  Teresa  very  much  for  getting  his  soul  out  of 
the  fire  of  Purgatory,  and  the  saint  then  saw  him  go  up  into 
heaven. 

Let  us,  then,  pray  ;  and  let  us  pray  to  the  Mother  of  God 
for  contrition,  and  we  shall  infallibly  obtain  this  grace 
through  her  all-powerful  intercession  ;  for  her  divine  Son, 
Jesus  Christ,  can  refuse  nothing  to  his  Mother. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
THE  PRODIGAL'S  RESOLUTION — PEOXIMATB  OCCASION  OF 

STN. 

MANY  years  ago  there  was  a  bold  young  fisherman  living 
on  the  coast  of  Norway.  On  a  dark,  stormy  night  he 
took  it  into  his  head  to  go  out  in  his  little  fishing-boat. 
His  parents  and  brothers  entreated  him  to  stay,  but  he  would 
not  hear  them.  He  was  determined  to  go  in  spite  of  every 
remonstrance.  He  sailed  on  bravely  in  his  tiny  bark,  till  at 
last  the  sun  arose,  warm  and  bright,  upon  a  placid,  glassy 
sea.  Overcome  by  fatigue  and  heat,  the  young  man  fe!l 
asleep.  Suddenly  aroused  from  his  slumbers  by  a  loud 
shouting  at  a  distance,  he  looked  round  and  saw  his  father's 
boat.  The  crew  were  crying  aloud,  and  waving  their  hands 
to  invite  him  back.  But  they  made  no  effort  to  reach  him. 
What  was  the  matter  ?  what  could  they  mean  ?  The 
young  man  seized  his  oars,  and  began  to  pull  lustily  towards 
them.  But  he  was  amazed  to  find  that  the  fishing-boat  to 
wards  which  he  had  turned  the  prow  of  his  bark,  appeared 
now  on  his  right  side  and  soon  after  on  his  left.  He  had 
evidently  been  making  a  circle.  He  was  going  round  in  a 
spiral  curve,  and  now  he  was  commencing  another  and  a 
narrower  one.  A  horrible  suspicion  flashed  upon  his  mind. 
He  threw  off  his  cloak,  and  pulled  like  a  madman  at  his 
oars.  But  though  he  broke  the  circle  a  little  here  and  a 
little  there,  still  round  he  went,  and  every  time  he  drew 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  centre.  He  could  distinctly  hear 
the  roaring  of  the  water  ;  and  as  he  looked  he  could  see  a 
downward  funnel  hissing  and  foaming.  He  threw  dowia 

414 


THE  PRODIGAL'S  UESOL  UTIQN*  *:  i> 

his  oars  in  despair,  and,  standing  up,  flungup  bis  aims  fiar. 
tically.  The  wild  sea-bird  screamed  in  bis  ears;  Via  casi 
himself  flat  on  bis  face ;  he  shut  his  ears  with  his  hands, 
and  be  held  his  very  breath.  The  boat  spun  round  and  round 
—the  gurgling  waters  roared  above  him  ac  j*e  was  whirled 
headloiig  down  into  the  yawning  abyss. 

The  story  of  this  unhappy  fisherman  is  the  story  of  the 
greater  part  of  men  in  our  age  and  country.  In  our  day  the 
whole  world  has  become  an  immense  whirlpool  of  the 
grossest  vices.  Within  its  vortex  are  daily  drawn  thousands 
of  souls,  to  be  buried  for  ever  in  its  depths.  They  are  driven 
into  it  by  different  currents  ;  some  by  the  current  of  licen 
tious  and  infidel  literature  ;  others,  by  the  current  of  igno 
rance  of  the  true  religion ;  others,  by  the  current  of  sinful 
pleasures ;  others,  by  the  current  of  godless  education  ; 
others,  by  the  current  of  secret  societies  ;  others,  by  the 
current  of  lewd,  infidel  companions  ;  others,  by  the  current 
of  unfortunate  marriages  ;  others,  by  the  current  of  infidel 
governments,  rebelling  against  Christ  and  His  Church.  If 
we  sincerely  desire  not  to  be  lost  for  ever,  we  must  keep  out 
of  such  currents  ;  that  is,  we  must  avoid  the  proximate  oc 
casions  of  sin. 

After  the  Prodigal  had  been  kindly  received  by  his  father, 
he  firmly  resolved  never  again  to  leave  his  father's  house 
and  expose  himself  to  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin. 
Sad  experience  had  taught  him  that  every  proximate  occa 
sion  of  sin  is  a  torrent  that  leads  to  the  fathomless  abyss  of 
everlasting  perdition.  And  by  proximate  occasion  of  sin  is 
meant  any  object,  person,  place,  or  circumstance  that  fre 
quently  leads  one  into  sin.  In  this  matter,  every  one  has  to 
examine  his  own  conscience,  for  the  occasions  of  sin  are 
very  various. 

There  is  one,  for  instance,  who  frequents  the  society  of 
certain  companions,  in  whose  company  he  knows  that  ne  ia 
•ure  to  be  tempted  to  sin  by  immodest  conversation,  by  dis- 


41 6  THE  PR  ODIGAI/S  RE  SOL  UTION  : 

courses  against  charity,  or  by  cursing,  quarrelling,  or  gam 
bling.  For  such  a  one  these  wicked  companions  are  a  proxi 
mate  occasion  of  sin. 

There  is  another  who  knows  from  sad  experience  that  his 
frequent  visits  to  the  saloon  and  the  bar-room  are  the  cause 
of  his  drunkenness.  For  him  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin 
is  evidently  the  bar-room,  the  drinking-saloon. 

Another  knows  that  when  once  he  begins  to  drink  he 
cannot  stop  until  he  has  drunk  to  excess.  For  him  the 
proximate  occasion  of  sin  is  intoxicating  liquor. 

Another  has  an  employment  which  causes  him  to  fall  very 
frequently  into  sin.  A  man,  for  instance,  keeps  a  bar-room. 
Now  a  bar-room,  if  properly  conducted,  is  not  sinful  in  it 
self ;  but  the  owner  knows  from  experience  that  so  long  as 
he  keeps  this  bar-room  he  himself  cannot  give  up  the  sin  of 
drunkenness;  and  that,  moreover,  he  is  continually  instigat 
ing  others  to  sin  by  selling  liquor  to  drunkards,  thereby 
causing  them  to  commit  thousands  of  sins.  This  business  is 
for  him  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin. 

Another  has  an  immodest  picture,  or  the  picture  of  one 
whom  he  loves  with  sinful  passion,  and  the  sight  of  this 
picture  incites  him  to  evil  thoughts  and  desires.  The  pic 
ture  is  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin. 

Another  has  an  occupation  in  which  he  is  continually 
tempted,  almost  forced,  to  cheat  and  to  steal.  He  buys  and 
receives  stolen  goods.  He  is  continually  tempted  by  the  bad 
example  of  others  to  steal  from  his  employers,  on  the  plea 
that  he  does  not  receive  enough  wages.  Or  he  cheats  in 
ouying  and  selling  because  his  employer  tells  him  to  do  so. 
This  employment  is  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin. 

Another  works  in  a  factory,  in  a  foundry,  in  a  printing- 
office  or  store,  where  he  is  continually  obliged  to  listen  to 
curses  and  blasphemies,  where  he  must  hear  his  holy  faitli 
ridiculed  and  misrepresented ;  where  he  is  almost  continually 
tempted  to  take  part  in  shameful,  immodest  discourses.  If 


PROXIMATE  OCCASION  OF  SIN.  417 

he  very  frequently  yields  to  these  temptations  and  commits 
sin,  that  place  and   his  fellow-workmen  are   for   him   the 
'proximate  occasion  of  sin. 

Another  helps  to  print,  to  sell  Protestant,  infidel,  and  im 
moral  books.  Another  sings  or  plays  in  heretical  or  infidel 
churches,  and  thus  gives  scandal  and  encourages  others  in 
false  worship.  These  employments  are  for  such  persons 
proximate  occasions  of  sin. 

Another  sends  his  children  to  heretical  or  infidel  schools, 
where  they  are  in  evident  danger  of  losing  their  faith  and 
their  innocence.  These  godless  schools  are  for  the  children, 
and,  consequently,  for  the  parents  and  guardians  of  the 
children,  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin. 

A  young  man  lives  in  a  house  where  he  is  continually 
tempted  to  sin,  or  a  young  woman  lives  in  a  place  where  she 
has  fallen  into  sin  again  and  again.  '  Such  places  and  cir 
cumstances  are  for  such  persons  proximate  occasions  of  sin. 

Another  frequents  the  theatre  and  ball-room  ;  she  p-oes 
to  fairs,  pleasure-parties,  excursions,  watering-places,  where 
she  is  always  tempted  to  sin,  and,  unhappily,  very  often  yields 
to  the  temptation.  These  places  of  amusement  are  for  her 
the  proximate  occasion  of  sin. 

A  man  keeps  company  with  a  person  whose  very  presence 
causes  him  to  fall  into  thousands  of  sins  of  thought  and 
desire,  and  tempts  him  into  taking  certain  common  but  sinful 
liberties.  The  company  of  this  person  is  for  him  the  proxi 
mate  occasion  of  sin. 

Ho  who  has  the  misfortune  to  be  living  at  this  moment  in 
rhe  proximate  occasion  of  sin  is  bound  under  pain  of  sin, 
as  he  hopes  for  salvation,  to  give  up  this  occasion,  no  matter 
what  it  may  cost.  As  long  as  he  remains  in  the  proximate 
occasion  of  sin,  the  devil  laughs  at  all  his  good  resolutions. 
As  long  as  he  remains  within  the  power  of  the  devil,  the 
evil  spirit  does  all  he  can  to  keep  his  victim  enslaved  ;  and 
should  that  person  have  the  happiness  to  cast  him  out  of 


418  THE  PRODIGAL'S  RESOLUTION: 

his  heart  by  a  good  confession,  the  devil  has  no  rest  till  he 
enters  again.  He  knocks  at  the  door  of  the  heart  by  his 
temptations.  He  knows  from  experience  the  weak  side,  the 
ruling  passion,  of  all  of  us. 

The  foolish  may  say:  "There  is  no  great  danger.  I  am 
strong  enough.  I  am  sure  I  could  live  for  ever  in  the  proxi 
mate  occasion  of  sin  without  falling.  I  hate  sin  ;  no  one 
can  ever  induce  me  to  commit  it.  I  would  rather  die  than 
sin  again."  Who  is  sure  of  this  ?  Who  is  certain  that  he 
will  not  fall  if  he  remain  in  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin  ? 
No  man.  It  is  certain,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  strongest 
will  fall  if  he  remain  in  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin.  The 
proximate  occasion  leads  into  sin  in  two  ways.  First,  it  in 
creases  the  natural  weakness  of  man,  his  natural  inclina 
tion  to  sin,  and,  secondly,  he  who  seeks  out  the  proximate 
occasion  of  sin  deprives  himself  of  the  special  assistance 
of  God.  Every  one  knows  that  at  times,  at  least,  his  will 
is  very  weak,  his  passions  fearfully  strong.  Even  the  great 
apostle  St.  Paul  experienced  this  sad  effect  of  original  and 
actual  sin,  this  corrupt  inclination  to  evil.  "  I  feel,"  he 
says,  "in  my  members  an  inclination  which  wars  against 
my  reason.  I  do  not  the  good  which  I  wish  to  do,  but  the 
evil  which  I  hate."*  When  a  man  places  himself  wilfully 
in  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin,  this  natural  inclination  to 
sin  becomes  so  strong  that  it  is  morally  impossible  to  resist 
it.  Suppose  one  were  starving  with  hunger,  and  sees  before 
him  a  table  filled  with  the  choicest  viands,  would  he  be 
able  to  refrain  from  stretching  out  his  hand  and  taking  of 
the  food  ?  Or  suppose  one  who  is  parched  with  thirst  sees 
before  him  a  cup  of  cool,  fresh  water,  or  a  goblet  of  spark 
ling  wine,  would  he  have  the  strength  to  resist  his  ardent 
longing  for  a  cooling  drink,  would  he  leave  that  cup  un- 
tonched  ?  How  often  does  it  not  happen  that  persons  who 
have  long  been  starving  with  hunger  or  parched  with  thirst, 
*  Rom.  vii.  19. 


PROXIMATE  OCCASION  OF  SIN.  418 

when  at  last  they  find  food,  eat  and  drink  with  the  greatest 
avidity,  even  though  they  know  that  by  so  doing  they  lose 
their  life.  And  do  we  think  that  we  shall  be  able,  without 
the  special  grace  of  God,  to  resist  our  furious  passions  in 
presence  of  the  very  object  of  our  passions,  which  we  wil 
fully  seek  out  and  love  ?  Why  do  we  seek  them  out  ?  Why 
do  we  go  to  meet  them,  unless  with  the  desire  and  purpose 
of  enjoying  them  ?  And  yet  we  would  fain  deceive  our 
selves  with  the  thought  that  we  are  resolved  to  avoid  sin  at 
t.lie  very  moment  that  we  go  to  meet  it  and  even  invite  its 
approach.  Is  the  soul  blind  or  senseless  that  it  knows  not 
that  the  presence  of  the  object  of  its  passion  has  a  fascinat 
ing  power  over  it,  which  without  God's  special  grace  it  will 
not  be  able  to  resist.  But  this  special  grace  God  does 
not  throw  away  on  those  who  wilfully  turn  their  backs 
on  Him  to  go  to  meet  danger.  He  who  goes  alone  to 
meet  sin  must  stand  or  fall  alone ;  and  beyond  doubt  his 
fall  will  be  speedy,  for  which  he  has  himself  and  not  his 
God  to  accuse. 

In  proximate  occasions  of  sin  even  saints  have  fallen,  and 
persons  on  the  point  of  death  have  been  lost.  Father  Se- 
gncri,  S.J.,  relates  that  a  female  who  had  lived  in  the  habit 
of  sin  with  a  young  man,  called  for  a  confessor  at  the  hour 
of  her  death,  and  with  tears  confessed  all  the  wickedness  of 
her  life.  After  this  she  asked  leave  of  her  confessor  to 
send  for  the  young  man,  in  order  to  exhort  him  to  change 
his  life  at  the  sight  of  her  death.  The  confessor  very  im 
prudently  gave  the  permission,  and  taught  her  what  she 
should  say  to  her  accomplice  in  sin.  But  what  happened  ? 
As  soon  as  she  saw  him,  she  forgot  her  promise  to  the  con 
fessor  and  the  exhortation  she  was  to  give  to  the  young  man. 
She  raised  herself  up  in  the  bed,  stretched  out  her  arms  to 
him,  and  said,  "Friend,  I  have  always  loved  you,  and  love 
you  now  more  than  ever.  I  see  that  on  your  account  1  shall 
ge  to  hell,  but  I  do  not  care  ;  I  am  willing  for  the  love  of 


420  THE  PR  ODIGAL'S  RE  SOL  UTION  : 

you  to  be  damned."  *  After  these  words  she  fell  back  on  hei 
bed  and  expired. 

To  remain  free  from  sin  in  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin 
requires  a  miracle,  a  miracle  far  greater  than  to  walk  unhurt 
through  the  midst  of  a  raging  fire.  But  a  miracle  is  a 
thing  that  cannot  be  performed  without  the  special  and  ex 
traordinary  assistance  of  God.  This  assistance  God  will  not 
and  cannot  give  to  those  who  remain  wilfully  in  the  proxi 
mate  occasion  of  sin.  We  may  say  as  often  as  we  please, 
"Oh  I  God  is  good,  He  will  not  suffer  me  to  fall ;  I  wilfpraj 
to  Him,  and  he  will  assist  me."  God's  assistance  will  not 
be  given  on  such  occasions.  Listen  to  God's  own  words : 
"  He  that  loves  danger  shall  perish  in  it."  f 

For  God  to  give  us  his  assistance  as  long  as  we  seek  and 
love  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin,  would  be  to  go  against 
his  own  sanctity  and  justice.  One  day  Satan  took  our 
blessed  Lord  up  and  placed  Him  upon  the  pinnacle  of  the 
temple  in  Jerusalem,  and  tempted  Him  to  cast  himself  down, 
saying  that  the  angels  would  bear  Him  up  ;  but  Jesus,  our 
Divine  Saviour,  answered  :  "  Thou  shalt  not  tempt  the  Lord 
thy  God."  Whoever  exposes  himself  wilfully  to  the  prox 
imate  occasion  of  sin  tempts  God  ;  he  is  guilty  of  the  sin  of 
presumption. 

Moreover,  it  is  the  teaching  of  all  theologians  that  as 
often  as  we  expose  ourselves  wilfully  to  the  proximate  occa 
sion  of  sin,  even  though  we  may  not  thereby  commit  any 
other  sin,  we  still  become  guilty  of  a  mortal  sin  merely  by 
so  exposing  ourselves.  This  is  evident,  for  God  forbids  not 
only  sin  itself,  but  also  everything  that  naturally  and  neces 
sarily  leads  to  sin.  It  is,  therefore,  absolutely  certain  that 
if  we  seek  the  danger,  if  we  love  the  danger,  we  shall  per 
ish  in  it. 

To  say  that  in  certain  cases  it  is  allowed  to  remain  wil« 
fully  in  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin  is  a  proposition  con 

»  Christian  Instructed,  Part  I.,  Reg.  xxiv.  n.  10  •K-Eoclus.  lii. 


PROXIMATE  OCCASION  OF  SIN.  431 

demned  by  the  Church,  and  consequently  to  believe  such  a 
thing  is  to  be  guilty  of  heresy.  Let  our  determination  to 
avoid  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin  be  as  great  as  that  of  a 
certain  woman  who  was  a  great  sinner.  Passing  a  church 
one  day  to  shorten  her  way,  she  saw  a  number  of  persons 
crowding  in  and  appearing  to  expect  something  extraor 
dinary.  Curious  to  know  what  was  going  on,  she  took  her 
place  with  the  others  ;  and,  the  crowd  increasing,  she  found 
herself  so  surrounded  that  it  was  impossible  to  think  of  re 
tiring.  A  venerable  missionary  ascended  the  pulpit,  and 
preached  on  the  mercy  of  God  to  sinners.  Amongst  others, 
he  several  times  repeated  these  words  :  "My  brethren,  there 
is  mercy  for  every  sin,  provided  the  sinner  repents."  This 
woman,  who  had  heard  all  very  attentively,  fixed  her  mind 
particularly  on  these  words,  which  had  struck  her.  As  soon 
as  the  discourse  was  finished,  she  made  her  way  through 
the  crowd,  and,  approaching  the  preacher  just  as  he  went 
down  from  the  pulpit,  she  pulled  him  by  the  sleeve  and 
said  with  simplicity:  "  Is  it  really  true,  father,  that  there 
is  mercy  for  every  sin  ?"  "Nothing  is  more  certain,  ma 
dam  !  God  forgives  all  sinners  if  they  truly  repent."  "  But," 
said  the  woman  again,  "there  are  all  sorts  of  sinners;  does 
God  forgive  all  without  distinction?"  "Yes,  certainly; 
provided  they  detest  their  sins,  God  forgives  them  all  with 
out  distinction."  "Would  Ho  pardon  me  who  for  fifteen 
years  have  committed  the  greatest  crimes  ?"  "Undoubt 
edly,"  answered  the  missionary,  "He  will  mrdon  your  sins 
if  you  only  detest  and  cease  to  commit,  tncm."  "If  that 
be  so,  father,  I  pray  you  toll  me  at  what  hour  you  will  hear 
my  confession."  "I  can  hear  you  immediately,  madam; 
prepare  yourself,  and  I  will  be  back  in  a  moment."  The 
missionary  pointed  out  his  confessional,  and  returned  some 
time  after  to  hear  her.  Before  retiring,  she  Paid  to  her  con 
fessor:  "Father,  I  cannot  return  to  my  dwelling  without 
exposing  myself  to  the  danger  of  falling  again  into  sin  ; 


422  THE  PR  ODIOA  L'S  RE  SOL  UTION. 

could  you  not  procure  me  a  shelter  for  the  night  ?  "  The 
missionary  having  explained  to  her  that  he  could  not  do  it 
without  great  difficulty,  the  woman  resolved  to  remain  in 
the  church  all  night.  Next  morning,  when  the  doors  were 
opened,  she  was  found  lifeless  in  a  chapel  dedicated  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin;  she  was  kneeling,  with  her  face  prostrate 
on  the  ground,  and  the  pavement  was  seen  wet  with  the 
tears  she  had  shed.  She  had  lamented  her  sins  so  bitterly 
that  she  died  of  grief.  The  missionary  being  apprised  oi 
what  had  happened,  went  to  the  place,  recognized  her  as  the 
person  whose  confession  he  had  heard  on  the  previous  night, 
and  admired  the  greatness  of  God's  mercy.* 

*  Noel.  Cat.  de  Rodez,  III.  287. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

BAD   BOOKS. 

foregoing  chapter  has  been  devoted  to  showing  the 
necessity  of  avoiding  the  proximate  occasion  of  sin. 
There  is  one  special  occasion  of  sin  which  must  be  dwelt 
upon  more  at  length.  It  is  the  reading  of  bad  books.  Bad 
books  are,  1,  idle,  useless  books  which  do  no  good,  but  dis 
tract  the  mind  from  what  is  good;  2.  Many -novels  and 
romances  which  do  not  appear  to  be  so  bad,  but  often  are  bad ; 
3.  Books  which  treat  professedly  of  bad  subjects ;  4.  Bad 
newspapers,  journals,  miscellanies,  sensational  magazines, 
weeklies,  illustrated  papers,  medical  works  ;  5.  Superstitious 
books,  books  of  fate,  etc.  ;  6.  Protestant  and  infidel  books 
and  tracts. 

There  are  certain  idle,  useless  books  which,  though  not 
bad  in  themselves,  are  pernicious  because  they  cause  the 
reader  to  lose  the  time  which  he  might  and  ought  to  spend 
in  occupations  more  beneficial  to  his  soul.  lie  who  has 
spent  much  time  in  reading  such  books,  and  then  goes  to 
prayer,  to  Mass,  and  to  Holy  Communion,  instead  of  think 
ing  of  God  and  of  making  acts  of  love  and  confidence,  will 
be  constantly  troubled  with  distractions ;  for  the  represen 
tations  of  all  the  vanities  he  has  read  will  be  constantly 
present  to  his  mind. 

The  mill  grinds  the  corn  which  it  receives.  If  the  wheat 
be  bad,  how  can  the  mill  turn  out  good  flour  ?  How  is  it 
possible  to  think  often  of  God,  and  offer  to  Him  frequent 
acts  of  love,  of  oblation,  of  petition,  and  the  like,  if  the 
mind  is  constantly  filled  with  the  trash  read  in  idle,  useless 
books  ?  In  a  letter  to  his  disciple  Eustochium,  St.  Jerome 

423 


424  BAD  J^OOKS. 

stated  for  her  instruction  that  in  his  solitude  at  Bethlehem 
lie  was  attached  to,  and  frequently  read,  the  works  of  Ci 
cero,  and  that  he  felt  a  certain  disgust  for  pious  books 
because  their  style  was  not  polished.  Almighty  God,  fore 
seeing  the  harm  of  this  profane  reading,  and  that  without 
the  aid  of  holy  books  the  saint  would  never  reach  that 
height  of  sanctity  for  which  he  was  destined,  administered 
a  remedy  very  harsh,  no  doubt,  but  well  calculated  to  make 
him  alive  to  his  fault.  He  sent  a  grievous  sickness  on  him, 
which  soon  brought  the  solitary  to  the  brink  of  the  grave.  As 
jie  was  lying  at  the  point  of  death,  God  called  him  in  spirit 
before  His  tribunal.  The  saint,  being  there,  heard  the  J udgc 
ask  him  who  he  was.  He  answered  unhesitatingly,  "  I  am  a 
Christian  ;  I  hold  no  other  faith  than  Thine,  my  Lord,  my 
Judge."  "  Thou  liest,"  said  the  Judge  ;  "  thou  art  a  Cice 
ronian,  for  where  thy  treasure  is,  there  thy  heart  is  also." 
He  then  ordered  him  to  be  severely  scourged.  The  servant 
of  God  shrieked  with  pain  as  he  felt  the  blows,  and  begged 
for  mercy,  repeating  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Have  mercy  upon  me, 
0  Lord  !  have  mercy  upon  me."  Meanwhile,  they  who  stood 
round  the  throne  of  that  angry  Judge,  falling  on  their  faces 
before  Him,  began  to  plead  in  behalf  of  the  culprit,  im 
plored  mercy  for  him,  and  promised  in  his  name  that  his 
fault  should  be  corrected.  Then  St.  Jerome,  who,  smarting 
with  pain  from  the  hard  strokes  he  had  received,  would 
gladly  have  promised  much  greater  things,  began  to  pro 
mise  and  to  swear,  with  all  the  ardor  of  his  soul,  that  never 
again  would  he  open  profane  and  worldly  works,  but  that  he 
would  read  pious,  edifying  books.  As  he  uttered  these 
words  he  returned  to  his  senses,  to  the  amazement  of  the 
bystanders,  who  had  believed  him  to  be  already  dead.  St. 
Jerome  concludes  the  narration  of  this  sad  history  with 
these  words  :  "  Let  no  one  fivncy  that  it  was  an  idle  dream, 
like  to  those  which  come  to  deceive  our  minds  in  the  dead 
of  night.  I  call  to  witness  the  dread  tribunal  before  which 


BAD  BOOKS.  425 

I  lay  prostrate,  that  it  was  no  dream,  but  a  true  representa 
tion  of  a  real  occurrence ;  for  when  I  returned  to  myself,  I 
found  my  eyes  swimming  with  tears,  and  my  shoulders  livid 
and  bruised  with  those  cruel  blows."  He  tells  us,  finally, 
that  after  this  warning  lie  devoted  himself  to  the  reading  of 
pious  books  with  the  same  diligence  and  zeal  that  he  had 
before  bestowed  upon  the  works  of  profane  writers.  It  was 
thus  that  Almighty  God  induced  him  to  that  study  of  divine 
things  which  was  so  yssential  to  his  own  progress  in  perfec 
tion,  and  destined  to  do  so  much  good  to  the  whole  Christian 
world. 

It  is  true  that  in  works  like  those  of  Cicero  we  sometimes 
find  useful  sentiments  ;  but  the  same  St.  Jerome  wisely  said 
in  a  letter  to  another  disciple:  "What  need  have  you  of 
seeking  for  a  little  gold  in  the  midst  of  so  much  dross, 
when  you  can  read  pious  books  in  which  you  shall  find  all 
gold  without  any  dross  ?  "  * 

As  to  novels,  they  are,  in  general,  pictures,  and  usually 
very  highly  wrought  pictures,  of  human  passions.  Passion 
is  represented  as  working  out  its  ends  successfully,  and 
attaining  its  objects  even  by  the  sacrifice  of  duty.  These 
bjoks,  as  a  class,  present  false  views  of  life;  and  as  it  is 
the  error  of  the  young  to  mistake  these  for  realities,  they 
become  the  dupes  of  their  own  ardent  and  enthusiastic 
imaginations,  which,  instead  of  trying  to  control,  they 
actually  nourish  with  the  poisonous  food  of  phantoms  and 
chimeras. 

When  the  thirst  for  novel-reading  has  become  insatiable — 
as  with  indulgence  it  is  sure  to  do — they  come  at  last  to  live 
in  an  unreal  fairy-land,  amidst  absurd  heroes  and  heroines 
of  their  own  creation,  thus  unfitting  themselves  for  the 
discharge  of  the  common  duties  of  this  every-day  world, 
and  for  association  with  every-day  mortals.  The  more 
strongly  works  of  fiction  appeal  to  the  imagination,  and 
*  Epis.  ad  Furian. 


426  BAD  BOOKS 

the  wider  the  field  they  afford  f  3r  its  exercise,  the  greater 
in  general  are  their  perilous  attractions ;  and  it  is  but  too 
true  that  they  cast,  at  last,  a  sort  of  spell  over  the  mind, 
so  completely  fascinating   the  attention  that  duty  is  for 
gotten   and   positive  obligation  laid   aside   to  gratify  the 
desire  of  unravelling,  to  its  last  intricacy,  the  finely-spun 
web  of  some  airy  creation  of  fancy.     Fictitious  feelings  are 
v]  excited,  unreal  sympathies  aroused,  unmeaning  sensibilities 
/  evoked.     The  mind  is  weakened;  it  has  lost  that  laudable 
\   thirst  after  truth  which  God  has  imprinted  on  it;    filled 
I  with  a  baneful  love  of  trifles,  vanity,  and  folly,  it  has  no 
(    taste  for   serious  reading  and   profitable   occupations ;  all 
I  relish  for  prayer,  for  the  Word  of  God,  for  the  reception  of 
\  the  sacraments,  is  lost ;  and,  at  last,  conscience  and  com- 
vnion  sense  give  place  to  the  dominion  of  unchecked  imagi 
nation.      Such   reading,    instead   of    forming    the    heart, 
depraves  it.    It  poisons  the  morals  and  excites  the  passions; 
it  changes  all  the  good  inclinations  a  person  has  received 
from  nature  and  a  virtuous  education  ;  it  chills  by  little  and 
little  pious  desires,  and  in  a  short  time  banishes  out  of  the 
soul  all  that  was  there  of  solidity  and  virtue.     By  such 
reading,  young  girls  on  a  sudden  lose  a  habit  of  reserved- 
ness  and  modesty,  take  an  air  of  vanity  and  frivolity,  and 
make  show  of  no  other  ardor  than  for  those  things  which 
the   world    esteems   and   which   God    abominates.      They 
espouse  the  maxims,  spirit,  conduct,  and  language  of  the 
passions  which  are   there  under  various  disguises  artfully 
instilled  into  their  minds ;  and,  what  is  most  dangerous, 
they  cloak  all  this  irregularity  with    the   appearances  of 
civility  and  an  easy,  complying,  gay  humor  and  disposition. 
,       St.  Teresa,  who  fell  into  this  dangerous  snare  of  reading 
idle  books,  writes  thus  of  herself:   "This  fault  failed  not 
to  cool  my  good  desires,  and  was  the  cause  of  my  falling 
insensibly  into  other  defects.     I  was  so  enchanted  with  the 
extreme  pleasure  I  took  herein  that  I  thought  I  could  not 


BAD  BOOKS.  42? 

be  content  if  I  had  not  some  new  romance  in  my  hands. 
I  began  to  imitate  the  mode,  to  take  delight  in  being  well 
dressed,  to  take  great  care  of  my  hands,  to  make  use  of 
perfumes,  and  to  affect  all  the  vain  trimmings  which  my 
condition  admitted.  Indeed,  my  intention  was  not  bad, 
for  I  would  not  for  the  world,  in  the  immoderate  passion 
which  I  had  to  be  decent,  give  any  one  an  occasion  of 
offending  God ;  but  I  now  acknowledge  how  far  these 
things,  which  for  several  years  appeared  to  me  innocent, 
are  effectually  and  really  criminal." 

Criminal  and  dangerous,  therefore,  is  the  disposition  of 
those  who  fritter  away  their  time  in  reading  such  books  as 
till  the  mind  with  a  worldly  spirit,  with  a  love  of  vanity, 
pleasure,  idleness,  and  trifling ;  which  destroy  and  lay 
waste  all  the  generous  sentiments  of  virtue  in  the  heart, 
and  sow  there  the  seeds  of  every  vice.  Who  seeks  nourish 
ment  from  poisons  ?  Our  thoughts  and  reflections  are  to 
the  mind  what  food  is  to  the  body  ;  for  by  them  the  affec 
tions  of  the  soul  are  nourished.  The  chameleon  changes 
its  color  as  it  is  affected  by  pain,  anger,  or  pleasure,  or  by 
the  color  upon  which  it  sits ;  and  we  see  an  insect  borrow 
its  lustre  and  hue  from  the  plant  or  leaf  upon  which  it 
feeds.  In  like  manner,  what  our  meditations  and  affections 
are,  such  will  our  souls  become — either  holy  and  spiritual 
or  earthly  and  carnal. 

In  addition  to  their  other  dangers,  many  of  these  books 
unfortunately  teem  with  maxims  subversive  of  faith  in  the 
truths  of  religion.  The  current  popular  literature  in  our 
day  is  penetrated  with  the  spirit  of  licentiousness,  from  the 
pretentious  quarterly  to  the  arrogant  and  flippant  daily 
newspaper,  and  the  weekly  and  monthly  publications  are 
mostly  heathen  or  maudlin.  They  express  and  inculcate, 
on  the  one  hand,  stoical,  cold,  and  polished  pride  of  mere 
intellect,  or,  on  the  other,  empty  and  wretched  sentimen 
tality.  Some  employ  the  skill  of  the  engraver  to  caricature 


428  BAD  BOOKS. 

the  institutions  and  offices  of  the  Christian  religion,  and 
others  to  exhibit  the  grossest  forms  of  vice  and  the  most 
distressing  scenes  of  crime  and  suffering.  The  illustrated 
press  has  become  to  us  what  the  amphitheatre  was  to  the 
Romans  when  men  were  slain,  women  were  outraged,  and 
Christians  given  to  the  lions  to  please  a  degenerate  popu- 
^lace.  "  The  slime  of  the  serpent  is  over  it  all."  It  instils 
'the  deadly  poison  of  irreligion  and  immorality  through 
every  pore  of  the  reader.  The  fatal  miasma  floats  in  the 
whole  literary  atmosphere,  is  drawn  in  with  every  literary 
breath,  corrupting  the  very  life-blood  of  religion  in  the 
mind  and  soul.  Thus  it  frequently  happens  that  the 
habitual  perusal  of  such  books  soon  banishes  faith  from 
the  soul,  and  in  its  stead  introduces  infidelity.  He  who 
often  reads  bad  books  will  soon  be  filled  with  the  spirit  of 
the  author  who  wrote  them.  The  first  author  of  pious  books 
is  the  Spirit  of  God ;  but  the  author  of  bad  books  is  the 
devil,  who  artfully  conceals  from  certain  persons  the  poison 
which  such  works  contain.  Written,  as  they  generally  are  n 
a  most  attractive,  flowery  style,  the  reader  becomes  en 
chanted,  as  it  were,  by  their  perusal,  not  suspecting  tne 
poison  that  lies  hidden  under  that  beautiful  style,  and 
which  he  drinks  as  he  reads  on. 

But  it  is  objected  the  book  is  not  so  bad.  Of  what  do 
bad  books  treat  ?  What  religion  do  they  teach  ?  Many  of 
them  teach  either  deism,  atheism,  or  pantheism  ?  Others 
ridicule  our  holy  religion  and  everything  that  is  sacred. 
What  morals  do  these  books  teach  ?  The  most  lewd.  Vice 
and  crime  are  deified  ;  monsters  of  humanity  are  held  out 
as  true  heroes.  Some  of  these  books  speak  openly  and 
shamelessly  of  the  most  obscene  things,  whilst  -others  do  so 
secretly,  hiding  their  poison  under  a  flowery  style.  They 
are  only  the  more  dangerous  because  their  poisonous  con 
tents  enter  the  heart  unawares. 

A  person  was  very  sorry  to  see  that  a  certain  bad  book  was 


BAD  BOOKS.  439 

doing  so  much  harm.  lie  thought  he  would  read  it,  that 
he  might  be  better  able  to  speak  against  it.  With  this  ob 
ject  in  view  he  read  the  book.  The  end  of  it  was  that  in- 
stead  of  helping  others  he  ruined  himself. 

Some  say,  "  I  read  bad  books  on  account  of  the  style.  I 
wish  to  improve  my  own  style.  I  wish  to  learn  something 
of  the  world."  This  is  no  sufficient  reason  for  reading  such 
books.  The  good  style  of  a  book  does  not  make  its  poison 
ous  contents  harmless.  A  fine  dress  may  cover  a  deformed 
body,  but  it  cannot  take  away  its  deformity.  Poisonous 
serpents  and  flowers  may  be  very  beautiful,  but  for  all  that 
they  '-ire  not  the  less  poisonous.  To  say  that  such  books  are 
read  purely  because  of  their  style  is  not  true,  because  those 
who  allege  this  as  an  excuse  sometimes  read  novels  which 
are  written  in  a  bad  style.  There  are  plenty  of  good  books, 
written  in  excellent  style,  which  *re  sadly  neglected  by  these 
lovers  of  pure  English. 

To  consult  those  books  for  a  knowledge  of  the  world  is 
another  common  excuse  for  their  perusal.  Well,  where 
shall  we  find  an  example  of  one  who  became  a  deeper 
thinker,  a  more  eloquent  speaker,  a  more  expert  business 
man,  by  reading  novels  and  bad  books  ?  They  only  teach 
how  to  sin,  as  Satan  taught  Adam  and  Eve  to  eat  of  the 
forbidden  tree,  under  the  pretence  of  attaining  real  know 
ledge;  and  the  result  was  loss  of  innocence,  peace,  and 
Paradise,  and  the  punishment  of  the  human  race  through 
all  time. 

Some  profess  to  skip  the  bad  portions  and  read  only  the 
good.  But  how  are  they  to  know  which  are  the  bad  por 
tions  unless  they  read  them  ?  The  pretext  is  a  false  one. 
He  only  will  leave  the  bad  who  hates  it.  But  he  who  hates 
the  bad  things  will  not  read  the  books  at  all,  unless  he  be 
obliged  to  do  so ;  and  no  one  is  obliged  to  read  them,  for 
there  are  plenty  of  good,  profitable,  and  entertaining  book* 
which  can  be  read  without  danger. 


430 

There  is  a  class  of  readers  who  flatter  themselves  that  bad 
books  may  hurt  others,  but  not  them ;  they  make  no  im 
pression  on  them.  Happy  and  superior  mortals  !  Are  they 
gifted  with  hearts  of  stone,  or  of  flesh  and  blood  ?  Have 
they  no  passions  ?  Why  should  these  books  hurt  others  and 
not  them  ?  Is  it  because  they  are  more  virtuous  than 
others  ?  Is  it  not  true  that  the  bad,  obscene  parts  of.  the 
story  remain  more  vividly  and  deeply  impressed  upon  their 
minds  than  those  which  are  more  or  less  harmless  ?  Did  not 
the  perusal  of  these  books  sometimes  cause  those  imagina 
tions  and  desires  forbidden  by  Christian  modesty?  Did 
they  not  sometimes  accuse  themselves  in  confession  of 
having  read  them  ?  If  not,  they  ought  to  have  done  so. 
Who  would  like  to  die  with  such  a  book  in  their  hand  ? 
Readers  of  bad  books  who  say  such  reading  does  not  affect 
them  should  examine  themselves  and  see  whether  they  are 
not  blinded  by  their  passions,  or  so  far  gone  in  crime  that, 
like  an  addled  egg,  they  cannot  become  more  corrupt  than 
they  already  are. 

See  that  infamous  young  man,  that  corrupter  of  innocence. 
What  is  the  first  step  often  of  a  young  reprobate  who  wishes 
to  corrupt  some  poor,  innocent  girl  ?  He  first  lends  her  a 
bad  book.  He  believes  that  if  she  reads  that  book  she  is 
lost.  A  bad  book,  as  he  knows,  is  an  agreeable  corrupter ; 
for  it  veils  vice  under  a  veil  of  flowers.  It  is  a  shameless 
corrupter.  The  most  licentious  would  blush,  would  hesitate 
to  speak  the  language  that  their  eyes  feed  on.  But  a  bad 
book  does  not  blush,  feels  no  shame,  no  hesitation.  Itself 
unmoved  and  silent,  it  places  before  the  heart  and  imagina 
tion  the  most  shameful  obscenities. 

A  bad  book  is  a  corrupter  to  whom  the  reader  listens 
without  shame,  because  it  can  be  read  alone  and  taken  up 
when  one  pleases. 

Go  to  the  hospitals  and  brothels  ;  ask  that  young  man 
who  is  dying  of  a  shameful  disease  ;  ask  that  young  woman 


BAD  BOOKS.  431 

who  has  lost  her  honor  and  her  happiness;  go  to  the  dark 
grave  of  the  suicide  ;  ask  them  what  was  the  first  step  in 
their  downward  career,  and  they  will  answer,  the  reading 
of  bad  books. 

Not  long  ago  a  young  lady  from  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y., 
who  was  once  a  good  Catholic,  began  to  read  novels.  Not 
long  after  she  wished  to  imitate  what  she  read,  and  to  be 
come  a  great  lady.  So  she  left  her  comfortable  home,  and 
ran  away  with  another  young  lady  to  New  York.  Thore 
she  changed  her  name,  became  a  drunkard  and  a  harlot, 
and  even  went  so  far  in  her  wickedness  as  to  kill  a  police 
man.  Here  is  the  story,  told  in  the  woman's  own  words  as 
given  in  the  public  press : 

Fanny  Wright,  the  woman  who  killed  police  officer 
McChesney,  in  New  York,  on  the  night  of  November  2, 
has  been  removed  to  the  Tombs,  and  now  occupies  a  cell  in 
the  upper  tier  of  the  female  prison.  The  clothing  stained 
with  blood  of  her  victim,  which  she  has  worn  since  her 
arrest,  has  been  changed.  In  reply  to  interrogations  she 
made  the  following  statements  respecting  her  life  : 

"  About  ten  years  ago  I  was  living  happily  with  my  parents 
at  Poughkeepsie,  in  this  State.  Nothing  that  I  wished  for 
was  withheld.  I  was  trained  in  the  Roman  Catholic  faith, 
and  attended  to  my  religious  duties  with  carefulness  and 
pleasure  until  I  was  corrupted  by  a  young  girl  of  the  same 
age,  who  was  my  school-fellow.  She  had  been  reading  novels 
to  such  an  extent  that  her  head  had  become  fairly  upset, 
and  nothing  would  do  her  but  to  travel  and  see  the  world! 
The  dull  life  of  a  small  country  place  like  Poughkeepsie 
would  not  suit  her  tastes  and  inclinations,  and  from  repeat 
edly  whispering  into  my  ears  and  persuading  me  that  we 
would  be  great  ladies,  have  horses,  carriages,  diamonds,  and 
servants  of  our  own,  I  finally  reluctantly  consented  to  flee 
from  home,  and  we  started  together  one  beautiful  night  for 
the  city  of  New  York.  [Here  the  poor  woman  gave  way 


432  SAD  BOOKS. 

to   tears,    and   sobbed    hysterically.]      On   our   arrival   in 
this  city  we  took  np  our  quarters  with  Mrs.  Adams,  at  No. 
87  Leonard  Street,  and  this  was  the  place  where  I  lost  my 
virtue  and  commenced  to  lead  a  life  of  bitter,  bitter  shame. 
My  family  ultimately  succeeded  in  finding  out  my  where 
abouts  and  took  me  home,  but  I  could  not  listen  to  the  voice 
of  reason.     I  felt  that  I  had  selected  my  mode  of  life,  and 
was  determined  at  all  hazards  to  follow  it  out.     I  escaped  a 
second  time,  and  went  back  to  Mrs.  Adams's,  where  I  was 
confined  of  a  sweet  little  girl  shortly  afterwards.     I  used  to 
keep  myself  very  clean,  and  dressed  with  great  care  and 
tastefulness.     From  Mrs.   Adams's  I  moved  to  Mrs.  Wil- 
loughby's,  at  No.  101  Mercer  Street,  and  lived  there  until 
the  death  of  my  little  girl,  three  years  ago;  that  had  an 
awful  effect  upon  me  ;  I  could  not  help  taking  to  drink  to 
drown  my  sorrow.     From  this  period  I  date  the  commence 
ment  of  my  real  hardships.     My  father  emigrated  to  Cali 
fornia,  and  I  had  no  one  left  but  a  young  brother  ;  he  tried 
to  reform  me,  and  also  his  poor  wife  ;  God  bless  her  !  she 
used  to  cry  herself  sick  at  my  disgrace.     Previous  to  this 
the  young  girl  who  accompanied  me  from  home  in  the  first 
instance  fell  out  lucky,  and  got  married.     Drinking  was  the 
only  pleasure  of  my  life,  and  it  was  not  long  until  it  began 
to  have  its  results  ;  I  was  arrested  and  committed  to  the 
Island  for  six  months  ;  I  got  down  before  my  time  was  up, 
and  again  took  to  liquor   and   street-walking.     I   used   to 
walk  all  the  time  between   Greene,  Wooster,  and  Mercer 
Streets,  in  the  Eighth  Ward.     I  was  soon  arrested  the  second 
time,  and  sent  up  again  for  six  months.     During  the  last 
three  years  of  my  life,  I  have  been  sent  on  the  Island  six 
times  altogether  for  drunkenness  and   disorderly  conluct. 
On  the  night  the  officer  was  killed  [here  she  gave  way  again 
to  tears,  and  rocked  herself  around  on  the  bed  in  a  fearful 
manner],  I  was  walking  through  the  street,  going  home  with 
menage,  and  picking  the  kernels  out  of  a  hickory-nut 


J!AD  HOOKS,  433 

with  a  small  knife,  when  the  officer  came  up  to  me ;  I  was 
almost  drunk  at  the  time,  and  much  excited  ;  I  did  not 
know  what  I  was  doing,  when  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment 
I  struck  him  with  the  knife  and  killed  him."  On  Tuesday 
the  brother  of  Fanny,  a  respectable  young  man,  residing  i>i 
the  neighborhood  of  Poughkeepsie,  called  at  the  prison  and 
had  an  interview  with  his  sister. 

A  more  affecting  scene,  says  the  Express,  it  lias  seldom 
been  our  lot  to  witness.  Although  a  strong,  robust  man, 
he  fairly  shook  with  emotion  from  a  keen  sense  of  grief 
and  shame.  He  remained  with  her  for  nearly  an  hour. 
She  was  almost  frantic  with  violent  outbursts  of  grief,  and 
after  his  departure  became  insensible. 

Another  young  lady  of  the  State  of  New  York  was  sent 
to  a  convent  school,  where  she  received  a  brilliant  education. 
She  spoke  seven  languages.  She  wished  to  enter  a  convent, 
but  was  prevented  by  her  parents.  Her  parents  died,  and 
after  their  death  the  young  lady  took  to  novel-reading. 
She  soon  wished  to  imitate  what  she  had  read  ;  she  wished 
to  become  a  heroine.  So  she  went  upon  the  stage  and 
danced  in  the  "  Black  Crook."  At  last  she  fell  one  day  on 
Second  Avenue,  in  New  York,  and  broke  her  leg  in  six 
places.  She  was  taken  to  a  hospital,  where  a  good  lady 
gave  her  a  prayer-book.  But  she  flung  it  away  and  asked 
for  a  novel.  She  would  not  listen  to  the  priest  encouraging 
her  to  make  her  confession  and  be  reconciled  to  God.  &She 
died  impenitent,  with  a  novel  in  her  hand. 

Assuredly,  if  we  are  bound  by  every  principle  of  our  reli 
gion  to  avoid  bad  company,  we  are  equally  bound  to  avoid 
bad  books  ;  for  of  all  evil,  corrupting  company,  the  wcrst  ig 
i  bad  book.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  most  perni 
cious  influences  at  work  in  the  world  at  this  moment  come 
Torn  bad  books  and  bad  newspapers.  The  yellow-covered 
iterature,  as  it  is  called,  is  a  pestilence  compared  with  whi3h 
.he  yellow  fever,  and  cholera,  and  small-pox  are  as  noting. 


BAD  BOOKS. 


and  vet  there  is  no  quarantine  against  it.  Nerer  take  a  book 
into  Vour  hands  which  you  would  not  be  seen  reading.  Avoid 
not  only  notoriously  immoral  books  and  papers,  but  avoid 
also  all  those  miserable  sensational  magazines  and  no 
vels  and  illustrated  papers  which  are  so  profusely  scattered 
around  on  every  side.  The  demand  which  exists  for  such 
garbage  speaks  badly  for  the  moral  sense  and  intellectual 
training  of  those  who  read  them.  If  you  wish  to  keep  your 
mind  pure  and  your  soul  in  the  grace  of  God,  you  must 
make  it  a  firm  and  steady  principle  of  conduct  never  1 

touch  them. 

Would  you  be  willing  to  pay  a  man  for  poisoning  yov 
food  ?  And  why  should  you  be  fool  enough  to  pay  the 
authors  and  publishers  of  bad  books  and  pamphlets,  maga 
zines,  and  the  editors  of  irreligious  newspapers  for  poison 
ing  your  soul  with  their  impious  principles  and  their 
shameful  stories  and  pictures  ? 

Go  then,  and  burn  all  bad  books  in  your  possession,  even 
if  they  do  not  belong  to  you,  even  if  they  are  costly.  Two  boys 
in  New  York  bought  a  bad  picture  with  their  pocket-money, 
and  burned  it.  A  young  man  in  Augusta,  Ga.,  spent  twenty 
dollars  in  buying  up  bad  books  and  papers  to  burn  them  all. 
A  modern  traveller  tells  us  that  when  he  came  to  Evora, 
he  thpre  on  Sunday  morning  conversed  with  a  girl  in  the 
kitchen  of  the  inn.  He  examined  some  of  her  books  which 
she  showed  him,  and  told  her  that  one  of  them  was  written 
by  an  infidel,  whose  sole  aim  was  to  bring  all  religion  into 
contempt.  She  made  no  reply  to  this,  but,  going  into  an- 
other  room,  returned  with  her  apron  full  of  dry  sticks  al 
of  which  she  piled  upon  the  fire  and  produced  a  blaze. 
She  then  took  that  bad  book  and  placed  it  upon  the  flamin 
pile;  then,  sitting  down,  she  took  -her  rosary  out  of  her 
pocket,  and  told  her  beads  until  the  book  was  entirely 
burnt  up.* 

*  Cowijntnm,  book  ii.  p.  289. 


BAD  BOOKS.  436 

In  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  we  read  that  when  St.  Paul 
preached  at  Ephesus,  many  of  the  Jews  and  Gentiles  were 
converted  to  the  faith.  "And  many  of  them  that  believed 
came  confessing  and  declaring  their  deeds.  And  many  of 
those  who  had  followed  curious  arts  brought  together  their 
books  and  burnt  them  before  all.  And  counting  the  price 
of  them,  they  found  the  money  to  be  fifty  thousand  piecen 
of  silver."  * 

A  young  nobleman  who  was  on  a  sea  voyage  began  to  read 
an  obscene  book  in  which  he  took  much  pleasure.  A  re 
ligious  priest,  on  noticing  it,  said  to  him:  "Are  you  dis 
posed  to  make  a  present  to  Our  Blessed  Lady  ? "  The 
young  man  replied  that  he  was.  "Well,"  said  the  priest, 
"  I  wish  that,  for  the  love  of  the  most  holy  Virgin,  you 
would  give  up  that  book  and  throw  it  into  the  sea." 
"  Here  it  is,  father,"  answered  the  young  man.  "  No,"  re 
plied  the  priest,  "  you  must  yourself  make  this  present  to 
Mary."  He  did  so  at  once.  Mary  was  not  slow  in  reward 
ing  the  nobleman  for  the  great  promptness  with  which  he 
cast  the  bad  book  into  the  sea  ;  for  no  sooner  had  he  re 
turned  to  Genoa,  his  native  place,  than  the  Mother  of  God 
so  inflamed  his  heart  with  divine  love  that  he  entered  « 
religious  order,  f 

*  Acts  xix.  18-20.  +  Nadasi,  Ann.  Mar.  S.  J.,  160ft. 


CIIAPTEK  XXIV. 

WHAT    INCREASED     THE     PRODIGAL'S     SORROW  —  GENERAL 
CONFESSION. 

ONE  day  the  Countess  de  Joigny  sent  for  St.  Vincent  de 
Paul  to  prepare  one  of  her  servants  for  death.  The 
saint  went  immediately.  His  great  charity  induced  the 
sick  man  to  make  a  general  confession.  And,  indeed, 
nothing  but  a  general  confession  could  have  saved  the 
dying  man  ;  for  he  publicly  declared  that  he  had  never  con 
fessed  certain  mortal  sins.  The  sincerity  with  which  he 
declared  his  secret  miseries  was  followed  by  an  inexpressible 
consolation.  The  sinner  felt  that  an  enormous  weight, 
which  had  for  many  years  oppressed  him,  was  at  length 
taken  off.  The  most  remarkable  circumstance  was  that  he 
passed  from  one  extreme  to  another.  During  the  three 
days  of  life  that  were  still  left  him,  he  made  several  public 
confessions  of  the  faults  which  a  false  shame  had  always 
prevented  him  from  confessing  hitherto.  "Ah  !  madam," 
he  exclaimed  on  beholding  the  countess  enter  his  room, 
"I  should  have  been  damned  on  account  of  several  mortal 
sins  which  I  always  concealed  in  confession;  but  Father 
Vincent  has,  by  his  charity,  induced  me  to  make  all  my 
confessions  over  again.  I  am  very  grateful  to  Father  Vin 
cent,  and  to  you  for  having  sent  him  to  me  to  prepare  me 
for  a  happy  death."  Upon  hearing  this  unexpected  con 
fession  of  her  servant,  the  countess  exclaimed :  "  Alas ! 
Father  Vincent,  what  must  I  hear  ?  How  great  is  my 
surprise  !  What  happened  to  this  servant  of  mine  happens, 
no  doubt,  to  many  other  people.  If  this  man,  who  was 

436 


WHAT  INCREASED  THE  PRODIGAL'S  SORROW.    ^3? 

considered  a  pious  Christian  by  every  one  who  knew  him, 
could  live  so  long  in  the  state  of  mortal  sin,  how  great 
must  be  the  spiritual  misery  of  those  whose  life  is  much 
looser  !  Alas  !  my  dear  father,  how  many  souls  are  lost  ! 
What  is  to  be  done?  What  remedy  must  be  applied  to 
prevent  the  ruin  of  so  many  souls  ?  " 

'"'Ah!"  exclaimed  St.  Vincent,  "false  shame  prevents 
a  great  many  persons  from  confessing  all  their  grievous 
sins.  This  is  the  reason  why  they  live  constantly  in  a 
state  of  damnation.  0  my  God  !  how  important  is  it  often 
to  inculcate  the  necessity  of  a  general  confession.  Persons 
who  have  concealed  grievous  sins  in  their  confession  have 
no  other  remedy  left  to  recover  the  grace  of  God.  This 
farmer  himself  avowed  publicly  that  he  would  have  been 
damned  had  it  not  been  for  his  general  confession.  A  soul, 
penetrated  with  the  spirit  of  true  repentance,  is  filled  with 
so  great  a  hatred  for  sin  that  she  is  ready  to  confess  her 
sins,  not  only  to  the  priest,  but  to  every  one  else  whom 
she  meets.  I  have  met  with  persons  who,  after  a  good 
general  confession,  wished  to  make  known  their  sins  to  the 
whole  world,  and  I  had  the  greatest  difficulty  to  prevent 
them  from  doing  so.  Although  I  had  strictly  forbidden 
them  not  to  speak  to  any  one  of  their  crimes,  yet  some 
would  tell  me  :  'No,  father,  I  will  not  be  silent  ;  I  will 
tell  the  people  how  great  a  sinner  I  am  ;  I  am  the  most 
wicked  man  in  the  world ;  I  deserve  death.'  Sec,  then, 
what  the  grace  of  God  can  do ;  see  the  great  sorrow  it  can 
produce  in  the  soul  !  This  was  the  way  in  which  the 
greatest  saints  acted.  Witness  St.  Augustine,  who  made  a 
public  confession  of  his  sins  in  a  book  which  he  wrote  to 
that  effect  ;  witness  also  the  great  Apostle  St.  Paul,  who 
tells  us,  in  his  Epistles,  what  sins  he  committed  against 
God  and  the  Church.  These  saints  made  this  public  con 
fession  of  their  sins  in  order  to  make  known  to  the  whole 
world  the  great  mercy  which  God  had  exercised  in  their 


t38     WHA  T  INCREASED  THE  PR ODIG  AL'S  SORR o  w: 

regard.  Tlie  grace  of  God  has  also  produced  a  similar 
effect  in  the  soul  of  this  farmer.  0  my  God  !  how  impor 
tant  is  it  to  inculcate  the  necessity  of  general  confession."  * 

To  many  persons  a  general  confession  is  absolutely  neces 
sary  for  salvation.  It  is  necessary,  1st,  to  all  those  who, 
in  any  of  their  former  confessions,  have  wilfully  concealed 
a  mortal  sin ;  2.  To  those  who  have  confessed  their  sins 
without  sorrow  and  a  firm  purpose  of  amendment. 

But  who  are  those  that  confess  without  true  sorrow  for 
their  sins  ?  They  are — 

1.  All  who  do  not  intend  to  keep  the  promise  to  avoid 
mortal  sin  which  they  made  in  confession. 

2.  All  who  are  not  willing  to  forgive  their  enemies. 

3.  All  who  have  no  intention  to  restore  ill-gotten  goods, 
or  the  good  name  of  their  neighbor  after  having  taken  it 
away  by  slander  or  detraction. 

4.  All  who  are  not  fully  determined  to  keep  away  from 
taverns,  grog-shops,  and  such  places  as  have  always  proved 
occasions  of  sin  to  them  ;  and 

5.  All  who  do  not  break  off  sinful  company. 

Now,  the  reason  why  these  persons  must  make  a  general 
confession  is  because  their  confessions  Avere  bad ;  instead  of 
obtaining  forgiveness  by  them,  they  only  increase  their 
guilt  before  God.  In  order  to  be  forgiven  they  must,  1, 
confess  over  again  all  those  mortal  sins  which  they  have 
committed  from  the  time  they  began  to  make  bad  confes 
sions  ;  2.  They  must  tell  in  confession  how  many  times 
they  received  the  sacraments  unworthily;  and,  3.  They 
must  be  very  sorry  for  all  those  sins,  and  firmly  resolve 
never  to  commit  them  again. 

There  are,  however,  others  to  whom  a  general  confession 
would  be  hurtful.  There  are  certain  scrupulous  souls  who 
have  already  made  a  general  confession,  who  hare  con 
fessed  even  more  than  was  necessary,  and  yet  they  cannot 
*  Abelly,  Vie  de  St.  Vincent  de  Paul. 


GENERAL  CONFESSION.  439 

rest.  They  wish  to  be  always  employed  in  making  general 
confessions,  with  the  hope  of  thus  removing  their  fears  and 
troubles.  But  what  is  the  result  ?  Their  perplexities  are 
always  increased,  because  new  apprehensions  and  scruples 
of  having  omitted  or  of  not  having  sufficiently  explained 
their  sins,  are  continually  excited  in  their  minds.  Hence, 
the  more  they-  repeat  confessions,  the  more  they  are 
stirring  up,  as  it  were,  a  hornet's  nest — being  stung  more 
than  ever  with  thousands  of  scruples,  and  wounded  all 
over  with  fears  and  troubles  of  spirit.  The  reason  of  this 
is  that  the  alarms  and  terrors  which  agitate  these  scrupu 
lous  souls  are  grounded,  not  on  solid  reasons,  but  on  base 
less  apprehensions,  which  the  remembrance  of  past  sins 
can  serve  only  to  encourage  and  to  quicken,  so  as  to  double 
the  disturbance  in  the  mind. 

But  a  person  may  say  :  "  If  the  sin  be  really  a  mortal 
sin,  and  if  I  have  not  confessed  it,  shall  I  be  saved  ?" 
"  Yes,  you  will  be  saved,"  says  St.  Alphonsus,  St.  Thomas 
Aquinas,  and  all  divines  ;  "  for  if,  after  a  careful  examina 
tion  of  conscience,  a  mortal  sin  has  not  been  told  through 
forgetf ulness,  it  is  indirectly  forgiven  by  the  sacramental 
absolution  ;  because  when  God  forgives  one  mortal  sin,  He 
at  the  same  time  forgives  all  others  of  which  the  soul  may 
be  guilty." 

He  who  makes  as  good  a  confession  of  his  sins  as  he  can 
obtains,  by  the  sacrament  of  penance,  the  forgiveness  not 
only  of  those  sins  which  he  confesses,  but  also  of  those 
which,  through  forgetf  ulness,  he  does  not  confess.  In 
spite  of  this  failing  of  the  memory,  the  penitent  is  in 
God's  grace  and  in  the  path  of  salvation.  He  should 
therefore  be  at  peace  and  never  more  mention  his  past 
sins.  He  should  understand  that  a  general  confession  is 
useful  for  a  certain  class  of  persons,  but  very  dangerous 
and  injurious  to  a  person  that  is  always  agitated  by  scruples ; 
for  the  repetition  of  past  sins  may  be  productive  of  grievous 


440     WHA  T  INCREA  SED  THE  PR  ODIOA  L'S  SORR  o  w : 

detriment  to  such  a  soul,  and  may  drive  her  to  despair. 
Hence  good  confessors  do  not  permit  scrupulous  persons  to 
speak  of  past  sins.  The  remedy  for  them  is  not  to  explain 
their  doubts,  but  to  be  silent  and  obey,  believing  for  certain 
that  God  will  never  ask  of  them  an  account  of  what  they 
have  done  in  obedience  to  their  confessors. 

Lastly,  there  are  persons  for  whom  a  general  confession 
is  most  useful  ;  for  those  who  never  made  a  general  confes 
sion  at  all.  A  general  confession  gives  our  confessor  a 
better  knowledge  of  the  state  of  our  conscience,  of  the  vir 
tues  in  which  we  stand  most  in  need,  and  of  the  passions 
and  vices  to  which  we  are  most  inclined ;  and  he  is  thus 
better  able  to  apply  proper  remedies  and  give  good  advice. 

A  general  confession  also  contributes  greatly  to  humble 
our  soul,  to  increase  the  sorrow  we  feel  for  our  ingratitude 
towards  God,  and  to  make  us  adopt  holy  resolutions  for  the 
f  u  ture. 

Whilst  the  prodigal  was  feeding  the  swine,  he  could  not 
help  reflecting  on  the  happiness  of  his  brother,  and  even  of 
bis  father's  servants.  He  compared  his  life  of  degradation 
with  the  life  he  might  have  enjoyed  had  he  stayed  with  his 
father.  The  grief  which  he  had  caused  to  his  father,  his 
ingratitude  towards  him,  his  bodily  and  spiritual  misery — 
all  the  crimes  of  his  life  were  before  his  mind.  He  could 
no  longer  endure  this  horrible  prospect  nor  the  bitter  re 
morse  of  his  conscience.  He  hastened  to  make  a  public 
confession  to  his  father  of  all  his  crimes,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes  saying  :  "  Make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants." 

We  too.  on  looking  back  at  all  the  faults  into  which  we 
have  fallen  during  our  whole  life,  cannot  fail  to  be  stirred  up 
to  a  more  lively  contrition  than  can  be  excited  by  the  recol 
lection  of  those  ordinary  failings  which  usually  form  the 
matter  of  the  confessions  which  are  called  "  particular  "  as 
distinct  from  general  confessions.  Far  different,  indeed,  is 
*"he  confession  and  humility  which  fills  the  mind  at  the 


GENERAL  CONFESSION.  441 

Bight  of  a  whole  legion  of  sins  from  that  which  is  occa 
sioned  by  the  consciousness  of  some  single  fault  into  which 
we  have  but  recently  been  betrayed.  One  or  two  regiments 
cannot  have  that  power  against  the  enemy  which  is  pos 
sessed  by  the  vast,  serried  mass  of  the  battalions  of  an  army. 
So  the  one  or  two  faults  of  which  we  accuse  ourselves  in 
our  ordinary  confessions  cannot  have  the  force  which  the 
whole  host  of  our  failings  possesses  to  subdue  our  hearts,  to 
soften  them  into  perfect  contrition,  and  to  bring  them  to  a 
deep  sense  of  humility  and  inward  self-abasement. 

This  truth  of  the  Catholic  faith  is  wondrously  illustrated 
by  what  may  be  read  in  the  fourth  step  of  the  well-known 
Ladder  of  Perfection,  by  St.  John  Climacus.  A  most 
abandoned  youth,  touched  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  sincerely 
repenting  of  his  disorderly  life,  went  to  one  of  the  monas 
teries  most  famous  for  the  holiness  of  its  inmates,  and,  fall 
ing  at  the  feet  of  the  superior,  asked  permission  to  be  ad 
mitted  into  the  community,  in  order  to  do  penance  for  his 
sins.  The  young  man  was  received.  He  declared  himself 
ready  to  make  a  public  confession  of  his  sins  in  presence 
of  all  the  monks  of  the  monastery.  The  following  Sunday 
the  monks,  two  hundred  and  thirty  in  number,  were  gath 
ered  together  in  church.  The  abbot  brought  in  the  young 
man,  who  was  visibly  touched  with  the  deepest  compunction. 
Prostrate  in  the  church,  the  penitent  began,  with  a  flood 
of  tears,  to  make  public  confession  of  all  his  crimes,  distin 
guishing  both  their  number  and  kind.  Whilst  he  went  on 
accusing  himself  of  all  the  murders  he  had  committed,  of 
his  many  robberies,  and  repeated  sacrileges,  the  monks 
were  wondrously  edified  at  the  sight  of  a  penitence  so  rarely 
witnessed.  Meanwhile  a  holy  monk  saw  some  one,  of  ma 
jestic  and  awful  appearance,  standing  with  a  large  roll  and 
a  bottle  of  ink  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  hand  a  pen. 
He  observed,  too,  that  as  each  sin  was  confessed  the  man 
crossed  it  out  with  his  pen  ;  so  that,  when  the  confession 


U2     WHAT  INCREASED  THE  PRODIGAL'S  SORROW: 

was  ended,  all  the  sins  were  cancelled  from  the  paper  and 
from  the  soul  of  the  young  man  at  the  same  time. 

Now,  what  was  thus  visibly  shown  in  the  case  of  that  re 
pentant  youth  happens,  in  an  invisible  manner,  to  all  who 
make  a  good  general  confession.  All  their  sins  are  blotted 
out  at  once  from  the  book  in  which  our  life  is  written  by- 
God,  and  from  the  book  of  our  soul,  which  then  regains  its 
former  unsullied  purity.  In  the  little  book  Triumph  of  the 
Hlessed  Sacrament  over  Beelzebub  ;  or,  History  of  Nicola 
Aubry,  who  was  possessed  by  Beelzebub  and  several  other 
evil  spirits,  we  read  the  following  : 

One  day,  during  one  of  the  exorcisms  in  church,  the  evil 
spirit  was  chattering  and  uttering  all  kinds  of  nonsense. 
Suddenly  he  stopped  short  and  gazed  fixedly  at  a  young 
man  who  was  eagerly  forcing  his  way  through  the  crowd 
in  order  to  have  a  nearer  view  of  the  possessed  woman.  The 
devil  saluted  him  in  a  mock'  ig  tone :  "  Good-morning, 
Peter,"  said  he,  calling  him  also  by  his  family  name. 
"  Come  here  and  take  a  good  view  of  me.  Ah  !  Peter.  I 
know  that  you  are  a  free-thinker;  but,  tell  me,  where  were 
you  last  night  ?"  And  then  the  devil  related,  in  presence 
of  every  one  in  church,  a  shameful  sin  that  Peter  had  com 
mitted  the  preceding  night.  He  described  all  the  circum 
stances  with  such  precision  that  Peter  was  overwhelmed 
with  confusion,  and  could  not  utter  a  word.  "  Yes,"  cried 
the  devil  in  a  mocking  tone,  "  You  have  done  it ;  you  dare 
not  deny  it." 

Peter  hurried  away  as  fast  as  he  could,  muttering  to  him 
self  :  "  The  devil  tells  the  truth  this  time.  I  thought  that 
no -one  knew  it  but  I  myself  and  God." 

Peter  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  the  devil  is  the  wit 
ness  of  our  evil  actions,  that  he  remembers  them  all  well, 
and  that,  at  the  hour  of  death,  he  will  bring  them  all 
against  us,  as  he  himself  declared.  "  For  it  is  thus,''  he 
added  in  a  rage,  "  that  I  take  revenge  on  sinners."  Peter 


GENERAL  CONFESSION.  443 

had  not  been  to  confession  for  many  years,  and,  as  a  natural 
consequence,  his  morals  were  not  exactly  of  the  purest  order. 
He  had  been  guilty  of  gross  sins  which,  in  the  fashionable 
world,  go  by  the  name  of  "  pardonable  weaknesses/'  "slight 
indiscretions,"  etc.  The  public  accusation  of  the  devil 
filled  him  with  wholesome  confusion.  He  rushed  into  the 
confessional,  cast  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  priest,  confessed 
all  his  sins  with  true  contrition,  and  received  absolution. 
After  having  finished  his  confession,  Peter  had  the  boldness 
to  press  through  the  crowd  once  more  ;  but  this  time  he  kept 
at  a  respectful  distance  from  his  infernal  accuser.  The  ex 
orcist  saw  Peter,  and,  knowing  that  he  had  been  at  confession, 
he  told  him  to  draw  near.  Then,  pointing  to  him,  the  priest 
said  to  the  devil :  "  See  here,  do  you  know  this  man  ?" 

The  devil  raised  his  eyes,  and  leisurely  surveyed  Peter 
from  head  to  foot,  and  from  right  to  left.  At  last  he  said  : 
"Why,  really,  it  is  Peter." 

"  Well ! "  said  the  priest,  "  do  you  know  anything  else 
about  him  ?  " 

"No,"  answered  the  devil,  "nothing  else." 

The  devil  then  had  no  longer  any  knowledge  of  Peter's 
sins,  because  they  had  been  entirely  blotted  out  by  the  blood 
of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  holy  sacrament  of  confession. 

We  read  of  the  holy  Bishop  Eligius  that,  desirous  of  at 
taining  to  a  more  exact  purity  of  conscience,  he  made  a 
general  confession  to  a  priest  of  all  the  sins  he  had  commit 
ted  from  his  earliest  childhood,  after  which  he  began  to  ad 
vance  with  greater  earnestness  and  fervor  of  spirit  in  the 
way  of  perfection.* 

It  is  related  in  the  life  of  St.  Engelbert  that,  having  re 
tired  to  his  private  oratory  in  company  with  another  bishop, 
he  accused  himself  of  all  the  sins  he  had  committed  with 
such  a  profusion  of  tears  that  they  flowed  down  copiously 
over  his  breast,  so  that  his  confessor  was  no  less  edified  than 
*  Surius  in  Vita  8.  Eligii. 


444     WHAT  INCREASED  THE  PRODIGAL'S  SORROW. 

astonished  at  the  heartiness  and  intensity  of  his  repentance. 
The  next  morning  he  resumed  the  confession  of  certain 
other  of  his  failings,  with  a  like  abundance  of  tears.* 

It  is  plain  that  this  more  lively  repentance,  this  deeper, 
inward,  and  most  real  humility,  must  have  more  power  to 
cleanse  the  soul,  and  help  it  to  attain  more  speedily  to  purity 
of  heart,  especially  as  the  purpose  of  amendment  is  com 
monly  the  more  efficacious  the  greater  our  sorrow  is  for 
having  offended  Almighty  God.  St.  Paul  teaches  that  the 
supernatural  sorrow  works  lasting  fruits  of  salvation.f  The 
apostle  means  to  say  that  penance,  when  duly  performed, 
produces  a  lasting  amendment.  Various  reasons  can  be 
given  for  this.  In  the  first  place,  the  very  disowning  our 
faults  and  the  good  purposes  of  serious  amendment  which 
accompany  a  well-made  general  confession  detach  the  soul 
from  all  affection  for  its  past  sins,  and  render  it  careful  not 
to  fall  into  them  again.  Then,  again,  the  special  grace  be 
stowed  in  this  sacrament  strengthens  the  will  in  its  conflict 
with  our  own  disordered  inclinations  and  the  deceitful  sug 
gestions  of  our  eternal  foes.  So  that  a  general  confession 
not  only  cleanses  us  from  past  failings,  but  makes  us  more 
watchful  and  careful  not  to  commit  them  again. 

St.  Bernard,  in  his  history  of  St.  Mai  achy,  relates  that 
there  was  a  woman  so  subject  to  fits  of  anger,  rage,  and 
fury  that  she  seemed  herself  like  a  fury  from  the  bottomless 
pit  sent  to  torment  every  one  who  came  in  contact  with  her. 
Wherever  she  stayed  her  venomous  tongue  stirred  up  hatred 
and  quarrelling,  brawls  and  strife  ;  so  that  she  became  un 
bearable,  not  only  to  her  own  kindred  and  more  immediate 
neighbors,  but  even  to  her  very  children,  who,  unable  to 
live  with  her,  had  purposed  to  leave  her  and  to  go  elsewhere. 
But,  as  a  last  endeavor,  they  took  her  to  the  holy  Bishop 
Malachy,  to  see  whether  he  would  be  able  to  tame  the  un 
governable  temper  of  their  mother.  St.  Malachy  confined 
*  Suriua  in  Vita  S.  Engelberti  t  2  Cor.  vii.  IP 


GENERAL  CONFESSION.  445 

himself  to  the  enquiry  whether  she  had  ever  confessed  all 
her  outbursts  of  passion,  all  her  many  outrageous  words, 
and  the  numberless  brawls  she  had  provoked  with  her  un 
ruly  tongue.  She  replied  that  she  had  not.  "  Well,  then," 
continued  the  holy  bishop,  "  confess  them  now  to  me." 
She  did  so,  and  after  her  confession  he  gave  her  some  loving 
counsel,  pointing  out  suitable  remedies,  and,  having  imposed 
a  penance,  absolved  her  from  her  sins.  After  this  confession 
the  woman,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  who  knew  her,  ap 
peared  changed  from  the  fierce  lioness  she  had  been  into  a 
meek  lamb.  St.  Bernard  concludes  his  narration  by  saying 
that  "  the  woman  was  still  living  when  he  wrote,  and  that 
she,  whose  tongue  had  up  to  that  time  outraged  and  ex 
asperated  everybody,  now  seemed  to  be  unable  to  resent  the 
injuries,  the  insults,  the  mishaps,  which  daily  fell  to  her 
lot."  Behold,  then,  how  a  good  general  confession  has 
power  to  cleanse  the  soul  from  past  defilement,  and  to  pre 
serve  it  from  falling  again  into  grievous  sin.  In  such  a  con 
fession  the  source  of  sin  is  greatly  weakened  ;  temptation 
ceases,  or  is  altogether  tempered  ;  grace  is  considerably  in 
creased  ;  the  mind  is  unusually  strengthened  ;  and  the 
demon  is  enervated  and  confounded.  Oh  !  what  consola 
tion  of  mind  results  from  this  practice,  what  peace  of  con 
science,  what  reformation  of  life,  what  confidence  of  par 
don  from  God,  what  lightness  of  heart,  what  a  change  of 
person,  what  a  facility  in  good  works,  what  an  increase  in 
devotion,  in  tenderness  of  spirit,  in  vivacity  of  intelligence, 
in  purity  of  conscience,  and  in  all  spiritual  gifts  which  con 
duce  to  eternal  salvation  ! 

Christ  Himself  has  been  pleased  to  give  us  a  striking 
illustration  of  this  doctrine  in  the  instance  of  that  well- 
known  penitent,  Blessed  Margaret  of  Cortona.  Beholding 
the  fervent  conversion  of  this  once  sinful  woman,  our  Lord 
began  to  instruct  and  encourage  her  in  divers  ways,  showing 
Himself  to  her  overflowing  with  love  and  tender  compas- 


446     WHAT  INCREASED  THE  PRODIGAL'S  SORROW: 

sion,  and  often  addressing  her  as  His  "poor  little  one!" 
One  day  the  holy  penitent,  in  a  transport  of  that  confidence 
which  is  the  natural  fruit  of  filial  love,  said  to  Him,  "  0 
my  Lord !  Thou  always  callest  me  Thy  '  poor  little  one.' 
Am  I  ever  to  have  the  happiness  of  hearing  Thy  divine  lips 
call  me  by  the  sweet  name  of  '  my  daughter'  ?"  "Thou 
art  not  yet  worthy  of  it,"  replied  our  dear  Lord.  "  Before 
thou  canst  receive  the  treatment  and  the  name  of  daughter, 
them  must  more  thoroughly  cleanse  thy  soul  by  a  general 
accusation  of  all  thy  faults."  On  hearing  this  Margaret 
applied  herself  to  searching  into  her  conscience,  and  during 
eight  successive  days  disclosed  her  sins  to  a  priest,  shedding 
a  torrent  of  tears  at  the  same  time.  After  her  confession 
she  went  to  receive,  in  a  most  humble  manner,  the  most 
holy  Body  of  our  Lord.  Scarce  had  she  received  it  when 
she  heard  most  clearly  in  her  inmost  soul  the  words  "  My 
daughter."  At  this  most  sweet  name,  to  hear  which  she 
had  longed  so  ardently,  she  was  rapt  at  once  into  an  ecstasy, 
and  remained  immersed,  as  it  were,  in  an  ocean  of  gladness 
and  delight.  On  recovering  from  her  trance  she  began  to 
exclaim,  as  one  beside  herself,  "0  sweet  word,  'My 
daughter '  !  0  loving  name  !  0  word  full  of  joy  ! 
0  sound  replete  with  assurance,  *  My  daughter '  ! "  * 
From  this  we  may  see  how  much  a  general  confession,  and 
the  preparation  it  implies,  avail  to  cleanse,  purify,  and 
beautify  the  soul  ;  since  by  means  of  it  this  holy  woman 
rose  from  the  pitiable  condition  of  a  servant,  in  which  she 
was  at  the  beginning  of  her  conversion,  to  the  honorable 
rank  of  a  well-beloved  daughter.  So  that  she  who  was  at 
first  gazed  upon  by  the  Redeemer's  pitying  glances,  was 
afterwards  contemplated  by  Him  with  love  and  most  tender 
complacency. 

A  Dominican  novice,  having  one  night  fallen  asleep  near 
the  altar,  heard  a  voice  calling  to  him,  "  Go  and  have  thy 

*  Francesco  Marches©,  Vita  di  8.  Margaretha  da  Cortona,  c.  vii 


GENERAL  CONFESSION.  447 

tonsure  renewed."  On  awaking  the  youth  understood 
how  God,  by  that  voice,  would  have  him  confess  his  sins 
again.  He  went  directly  to  cast  himself  at  the  feet  of  St. 
Dominic,  and  repeated  his  last  confession  with  greater 
care  and  with  more  searching  accuracy  and  diligence. 
Shortly  after  he  retired  to  rest.  In  the  midst  of  his  slum 
bers  he  beheld  an  angel  coming  down  from  heaven,  bear 
ing  in  his  hands  a  golden  crown  all  set  with  priceless 
gems  ;  and  the  angel,  winging  his  fligh^  towards  him,  placed 
this  crown  upon  his  head  as  an  ornament  to  his  brows. 
Let  him  who  never  made  a  general  confession  consider  the 
above  warning  as  made  to  himself.  Let  him  take  occasion 
of  the  approach  of  some  special  day  or  great  festival,  and 
say  to  himself,  "  Renew  thy  tonsure"  ;  prepare  for  a  general 
confession,  which  may  cleanse  thy  soul,  and  render  it 
wholly  fair,  bright,  and  pure  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord. 
Then  he  may  confidently  hope  for  the  day  when  he  will 
see  himself  crowned,  not  indeed  in  this  life,  but  in  the 
next,  with  a  crown  of  resplendent  stars. 

Now,  in  order  to  preserve  and  increase  the  purity  of 
soul,  acquired  by  a  good  general  confession,  we  ought  to 
have  frequent  recourse  to  the  sacrament  of  penance. 

Blosius  tells  us  how  our  dear  Saviour  said  one  day  to 
St.  Bridget  that  in  order  to  acquire  His  Spirit,  and  pre 
serve  the  same  when  acquired,  she  should  often  confess  her 
sins  and  imperfections  to  the  priest.* 

The  greatest  gift  God  can  bestow  upon  a  soul  is  the  gift 
of  divine  love.  This  gift  of  perfect  charity  He  bestows  on 
the  souls  that  are  spotless  and  pure  in  His  sight.  He  im 
parts  this  gift  to  the  soul  in  proportion  to  her  purity.  It 
is  certain  that  frequent  confession  is  one  of  the  most 
effectual  means  of  speedily  attaining  to  purity  of  soul, 
since,  of  its  very  nature,  it  helps  us  to  acquire  that  clean- 

*  Monit,  Spirit.,  o.  v. 


4:48     WHAT  INCREASED  THE  PRODIGAL'S  SORROW: 

ness  of    heart  which  is   the  crowning  disposition  foi    re 
ceiving  the  gift  of  divine  love. 

"  Blessed  are  the  clean  of  heart."  *  Some  have  imag  ned 
that  cleanness  of  heart  consists  in  an  entire  freedom  from  all 
sin  and  all  imperfections  whatsoever.  But  such  cleanness  of 
heart  has  been  the  privilege  only  of  Jesus  Christ  and  His  ever- 
blessed  Mother  Mary.  No  one  else  can  be  said  to  have  led 
BO  spotless  a  life  in  this  polluted  world  as  not  to  have  con 
tracted  some  stain.  ,  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  says  that  a  man 
can  avoid  each  particular  venial  sin,  but  not  all  in  general. 
And  St.  Leo  the  Great  says  of  persons  wholly  devoted  to 
God's  service,  that,  owing  to  the  frailty  of  our  nature,  not 
even  such  pious  persons  are  free  from  the  dust  of  trivial 
trangressions.f 

Since,  then,  cleanness  of  heart  cannot  mean  an  entire 
freedom  from  sin,  it  must  imply  two  things  :  First,  an 
exact  custody  of  our  hearts,  and  a  strict  watchfulness  over 
our  outward  actions,  in  order  to  avoid,  as  far  as  possible, 
the  committing  of  a  single  wilful  fault.  The  stricter  the 
watch  which  a  person  keeps  over  his  actions,  and  the  more 
successful  he  is  in  diminishing  the  number  of  his  failings, 
the  more  unblemished  will  be  his  purity. 

Secondly,  as,  in  spite  of  all  the  caution  we  can  take,  we 
shall  ever  be  contracting  some  slight  defilement  of  soul,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  be  constantly  careful  to  cleanse  our 
hearts  from  the  impurities  which  accumulate  through  the 
more  trivial  faults  into  which  we  so  frequently  fall. 

The  cleanliness  of  a  fine  hall  does  not  imply  that  no 
grain  of  dust  shall  ever  fall  upon  the  floor,  walls,  paintings, 
and  furniture.  Such  cleanliness  as  t'ms  may  not  be  looked 
for  even  in  royal  residences.  It  supposes  only  that  the ' 
palace  and  its  precincts  be  kept  free  from  all  accumulations 
of  dirt,  that  all  be  often  swept  and  dusted,  and  that  every 
thing  opposed  to  cleanliness  be  removed.  A  lady,  however 
*Matt  v.  +  Serm.  iv.  De  Quadr. 


GENERAL  CONFESSION.  449 

particular  on  the  point  of  cleanliness,  does  not  require  that 
her  garments  should  preserve  their  first  whiteness,  for  that, 
she  knows,  is  impossible  ;  but  she  is  careful  to  keep  them 
from  all  stain,  and  to  have  them  frequently  washed  and 
cleansed  from  such  stains  as  they  may  have  contracted. 
The  same  holds  good  of  purity  of  heart,  which  cannot,  of 
course,  consist  in  entire  freedom  from  faults  of  every  kind, 
but  in  carefully  watching  over  self,  in  guarding  against  any 
wilful  defilement,  and  in  frequently  purifying  the  conscience. 
Now,  these  are  precisely  the  two  effects  which  frequent 
confession  produces  in  the  soul.  Hence  we  attain,  by  its 
means,  more  speedily  than  by  any  other,  to  that  purity  of 
soul  which  is  the  crowning  disposition  for  receiving  divine 
love.  Nothing  in  the  world  can  cleanse  our  garments  so 
completely  from  soil  and  spot  as  sacramental  confession 
can  purify  our  souls  from  every  stain.  In  this  sacrament 
the  soul  is  all  plunged  into  a  bath  of  Christ's  blood,  which 
has  a  boundless  efficacy  for  taking  from  it  all  that  makes  it 
hideous,  and  for  rendering  it  whiter  than  the  lily,  purer 
than  the  driven  snow.  This  is  what  the  Apostle  St.  John 
assures  us  when  he  says,  "If  we  confess  our  sins,  God  is 
faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse  us 
from  all  iniquity.* 

Bodily  medicine,  if  very  sparingly  used,  gives  relief,  it  is 
true,  while,  if  frequently  applied,  it  restores  or  preserves 
health  ;  thus  too  confession,  if  made  even  but  seldom,  pro 
duces  saving  effects  in  the  soul,  while,  if  made  frequently,  it 
begets  in  it  the  fulness  of  perfection. 

To  this  may  be  added  another  most  important  reflection  : 
t  is  that  confession,  made  frequently,  is  a  most  effectual 
means  of  disarming  our  ghostly  enemy,  and  thus  disabling 
him  from  doing  us  injury  and  hindering  our  spiritual  pro 
gress.  It  is  easy  to  account  for  this,  since  all  the  power 
which  the  enemy  has  over  us  comes  from  the  sins  that  we 

*  1  John  i.  9 


450     WBA  T  I  VCREA  SED  THE  PR  ODI GAL'S  SORR o  w. 

commit.  If  tiese  be  mortal,  they  put  him  in  full  possession 
of  our  souls  ;  if  venial,  though  they  do  not  confer  a  domin 
ion  on  him,  yat  they  embolden  him  to  attack  us  with  greater 
violence.  It  thence  follows  that  if  we  confess  duly  and 
frequently,  the  soul  will  be  habitually  free  from  sin  ;  and 
thus  the  devil  will  be  deprived  of  all  dominion  over  us,  and 
will  have  no  courage  or  power  to  harm  us  ;  so  that  we  shall 
be  more  free  and  unshackled  in  our  pilgrimage  towards 
heaven. 

Csesarius  relates  *  that  a  theologian  of  blameless  life,  being 
about  to  die,  beheld  the  devil  lurking  in  a  corner  of  his 
room  ;  and  he  addressed  the  fiend  in  the  words  of  St. 
Martin  :  "  What  art  thou  doing  here,  thou  cruel  beast  ?" 
He  then,  by  virtue  of  his  priestly  power,  commanded  the 
devil  to  declare  what  it  was  that  most  injured  him  and  his 
fellows  in  this  world.  Though  thus  adjured,  the  devil  re 
mained  silent.  Not  allowing  himself  to  be  baffled,  the  priest 
conjured  the  demon,  in  the  name  of  God,  to  answer  him, 
and  answer  him  with  truth.  The  evil  spirit  thereupon 
made  this  reply:  "There  is  nothing  in  the  Church  which 
does  us  so  much  harm,  which  so  unnerves  our  power,  as 
frequent  confession."  Hence  whoever  aspires  to  cleanness 
of  heart,  and  to  perseverance  in  it,  should  make  a  general 
corfession,  and  then  confess  often  and  see  that  his  confes- 
sic  as  are  good. 

*Mirac.,  lib.  II.  c.  xxxviiL 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THE   GREAT   BANQUET — HOLY   COMMUNION. 

WE  read  in  Holy  Scripture  that  the  prophets  besoughl 
God  again  and  again  to  show  Himself  :  "  Show  us 
•Thy  lace,  0  Lord  !  and  we  shall  be  saved."  This,  too,  was 
the  ardent  prayer  of  Moses :  "0  Lord  !  show  me  Thy 
glory."  *  The  existence  of  God  among  men  in  some  sensi 
ble  form  is  a  want  of  the  human  heart.  Here  on  earth 
we  are  never  satisfied;  we  always  crave  for  something  more, 
something  higher,  something  better.  Whence  comes  this 
continual  restlessness  that  haunts  us  through  life,  and 
pursues  us  even  to  the  grave  ?  It  is  the  home-sickness  of 
the  soul,  its  craving  after  God.  All  things  were  created 
for  man ;  but  man  was  created  to  live  with  God,  and  to  be 
united  with  God.  Therefore  the  idea,  the  essence,  of  all 
true  happiness  may  be  expressed  in  one  word  :  "Emmanuel 
— God  with  us." 

To  satisfy  the  craving  of  the  human  heart  after  the  Real 
Presence  of  God,  Jesus  Christ  instituted  the  Blessed  Sacra 
ment  at  the  Last  Supper.  At  that  time  He  thought:  "  I 
have  already  given  men  so  many  proofs  of  my  love  towards 
them.  Ah  !  I  can  make  them  one  more  present ;  I  will 
give  them  a  most  precious  gift ;  I  will  give  them  all  that  I 
have  and  am.  I  will  give  them  myself  as  a  legacy ;  I  will 
give  them  my  Divinity  and  Humanity,  my  Body  and  my 
Soul,  myself  entire  and  without  reserve.  I  will  make  them 
this  present  at  the  very  moment  when  the  Pharisees  and 
Jews  are  planning  to  remove  me  out  of  the  world.  At  this 
*  Exod.  xxxiii.  18. 


452  THE  GREAT  BANQUET: 

moment  I  will  give  myself  to  men,  to  be  their  food  and 
drink;  to  abide  with  them  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament  in  a 
wonderful  manner ;  to  be  always  in  their  midst  by  dwelling 
m  their  churches.  Instead  of  withdrawing  myself  from 
them  on  account  of  their  ingratitude,  I  will  manifest  my 
love  to  them  the  more  by  staying  with  them  day  and  night 
in  the  Blessed  Eucharist."  The  institution  of  the  Blessed 
Sacrament  is  the  great  banquet  of  which  Jesus  speaks  in 
the  parable  of  the  prodigal :  "  Bring  hither  the  fatted  calf, 
and  kill  it,  and  let  us  eat  and  make  merry."  * 

This  banquet  is  great  in  its  origin  ;  it  was  instituted  by 
God  Himself,  who  prepared  it  at  infinite  cost ;  it  is  God 
who  entertains  us  therein  like  a  God — that  is  to  say,  with 
infinite  magnificence.  He  is  all-wise  ;  but  in  His  wisdom 
He  has  nothing  better  to  bestow  upon  us.  lie  is  the 
source  of  all  riches  and  splendor;  but  He  has  nothing  equal 
in  value  to  this  banquet.  He  is  all-powerful ;  but  He  can 
give  us  nothing  greater. 

This  banquet  is  great  on  account  of  the  food  that  is 
there;  for  it  is  the  Body  and  Blood,  Soul,  Divinity,  and 
Humanity  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  with  all  His  merits, 
all  His  graces,  and  His  works,  which  are  served,  so  to 
speak,  at  this  banquet. 

This  banquet  is  great  on  account  of  its  extent,  for  this 
heavenly  banquet  is  spread  everywhere  on  earth;  there 
is  no  part  of  the  universe  where  these  sacred  mysteries 
are  not  celebrated,  where  this  divine  Lamb  is  not  sac 
rificed,  where  the  faithful  cannot  partake  of  the  Bread  of 
angels. 

This  banquet  is  great  on  account  of  its  duration  ;  it  has 
lasted  for  more  than  eighteen  hundred  years,  and  it  will 
continue  as  long  as  there  shall  be  a  man  on  earth.  The 
feast  of  Assuerus  lasted  only  one  hundred  and  six  days ; 
but  this  shall  continue  until  the  end  of  the  world.  Jesus 
*  Luke  xv.  38. 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  453 

will  give  us  Himself,  in  Holy  Communion,  until  He  comes 
to  judge  the  living  and  dead. 

This  banquet  is  great  on  account  of  the  multitudes  who 
attend  it ;  all  men  are  invited  hither,  the  great  and  the 
small,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  men  and  women,  the  strong 
and  the  weak,  the  just  and  penitent  sinners. 

This  banquet  is  especially  great  on  account  of  the  effects 
which  it  produces. 

During  His  life  the  body  of  Jesus  Christ  had  a  peculiar 
healing,  life-giving  power.  A  virtue  went  forth  from  His 
body  to  heal  all  those  that  came  near  Him,  and  to  expel 
demons  from  the  possessed.  He  touched  the  blind,  and  they 
saw ;  He  touched  the  deaf,  and  they  heard  ;  He  touched  the 
dumb,  and  they  spoke  ;  He  touched  the  sick,  and  they  were 
healed  ;  He  touched  the  dead,  and  they  were  restored  to  life. 
Even  before  His  passion  and  resurrection,  before  His  body 
was  glorified,  Jesus  made  His  body  invisible,  as  we  see  in 
various  parts  of  the  Gospel.* 

The  Nazarenes  once  tried  to  cast  Him  down  a  hill.f  The 
Jews  wished  to  stone  Him,];  but  in  vain.  He  walked  on  the 
waves  of  the  sea.  On  Mount  Thabor  Jesus  showed  His 
body  to  His  disciples,  as  it  would  have  always  appeared  had 
He  not  chosen  to  hide  His  glory.  And  then  His  face  shone 
as  the  sun,  and  His  garments  were  whiter  than  snow. 
After  His  resurrection,  His  body  became  glorified  and  as 
sumed  the  qualities  of  a  spirit.  He  could  pass  through  r, 
wall  without  breaking  it,  as  a  sunbeam  passes  through  glass. 
He  passed  through  the  tomb,  though  it  was  sealed  ;  He  en 
tered  the  supper-room,  though  the  windows  and  doors  were 
barred.  He  became  visible  and  invisible  at  will.  He  ap 
peared  under  different  forms.  To  St.  Magdalen  He  ap 
peared  as  a  gardener ;  to  the  disciples  going  to  Emmaus  He 
appeared  as  a  stranger  and  traveller.  Now,  it  is  this  won 
derful  Body,  this  glorified  Body,  this  life-giving,  divine 

*  Luke  iv.  80.  +  John  viii.  89.  $  John  x.  39. 


454  THE  GREAT  BANQUET: 

Body,  this  Body  possessing  the  qualities  of  a  spirit,  that 
Jesus  Christ  gives  us  when  He  says,  "  Eat  my  flesh,  drink 
my  blood." 

By  original  sin— the  sin  of  our  first  parents— man  wan 
injured  in  body  and  soul.  After  the  fall  reason  grew 
darkened,  will  weakened,  the  heart  of  man  became  more  in 
clined  to  evil  than  to  good.  Now,  as  body  and  soul  were 
both  injured  by  sin,  so  there  must  be  a  medicine  for  both 
the  body  and  soul.  This  medicine  for  body  and  soul  is  the 
sacred  Body  and  Soul  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  His  Flesh  and 
Blood,  united  with  His  Soul  and  Divinity.  Great  and  admi 
rable  are  the  effects  which  this  heavenly  Medicine,  this  Bread 
of  the  strong,  produces  in  the  soul. 

First,  it  confers  an  increase  of  sanctifying  grace.  The 
life  of  the  soul  consists  in  its  being  in  a  state  of  acceptance 
or  friendship  with  God,  and  that  which  renders  it  accep 
table  to  God  is  sanctifying  grace.  This  grace,  which  was 
merited  for  us  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  is  infused  into  the 
soul  by  the  Holy  Ghost  through  the  sacraments  ;  but  each 
sacrament  does  not  confer  it  in  the  same  manner.  Bap 
tism  and  penance  bestow  it  upon  those  who  are  entirely  out 
of  the  grace  of  God,  or,  in  other  words,  are  spiritually  dead  ; 
baptism  being  the  means  appointed  for  those  who  have 
never  been  in  the  grace  of  God,  and  penance  for  those  who 
have  lost  it.  These  sacraments  are,  therefore,  called  sacra 
ments  of  the  dead,  as  being  instituted  for  the  benefit  of 
those  who  are  in  mortal  sin  or  dead  to  grace.  When  these 
sacraments  are  received  with  the  right  dispositions,  they 
truly  reconcile  the  sinner  with  God,  so  that,  from  being  an 
enemy  of  God,  he  becomes  His  friend  and  an  object  of  His 
complacency.  But  this  acceptance,  though  true  and  real,  is 
not  in  the  highest  degree  ;  it  admits  of  an  increase,  as  the 
Holy  Scripture  says:  "Let  him  that  is  just  be  justified 
still  ;  and  let  him  that  is  holy  be  sanctified  still " ;  and, 
theiefore,  God  appointed  the  other  sacraments,  the  sacra- 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  455 

ments  of  the  living,  not  only  to  convey  special  graces  pecu 
liar  to  each,  but  to  impart  an  increase  of  sanctifying  grace 
to  those  who  are  already  in  His  favor.  A  rich  man,  when  he 
has  taken  possession  of  a  field  which  he  wishes  to  convert  into 
a  garden,  is  not  content  with  putting  a  wall  around  it,  and 
clearing  it  of  the  most  noxious  weeds,  and  setting  it  in 
good  order,  but  he  continues  to  cultivate  it  assiduously,  to 
fill  it  with  the  most  beautiful  plants,  and  to  embellish  it 
with  new  and  choice  ornaments.  Thus  Almighty  God,  in 
His  love  and  goodness,  has  multiplied  means  by  which  the 
soul  may  be  enriched  with  the  graces  and  merits  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  become  more  and  more  agreeable  and  beautiful 
in  His  eyes. 

Now,  among  all  these  means,  there  is  none  greater  or 
more  powerful  than  the  Blessed  Eucharist.  Each  time 
that  we  receive  our  Saviour  in  Holy  Communion  we  parti 
cipate  anew  in  all  the  merits  of  His  Redemption,  of  His 
poverty,  His  hidden  life,  His  scourging,  and  His  crowning 
with  thorns.  The  Holy  Eucharist,  then,  differs  from  the 
other  sacraments  in  this  :  that  while  the  other  sacraments 
bestow  upon  us  one  or  another  of  the  fruits  of  Christ's 
merits,  this  gives  us  the  grace  and  merits  of  our  Saviour  in 
their  source.  The  soul,  therefore,  receives  an  immense 
increase  of  sanctifying  grace  at  each  communion. 

Let  us  reflect  upon  this  for  a  moment.  It  is  no  slight 
thing  for  a  soul  to  be  beautiful  in  the  sight  of  God.  That 
must  needs  be  something  great  and  precious  which  can 
render  us,  sinful  creatures  as  we  are,  truly  amiable  before 
God.  What  must  be  the  value  of  sanctifying  grace  which 
can  work  such  a  transformation  ?  What  is  it  ?  And  who 
can  declare  its  price  ?  St.  Thomas  tells  us  that  the  lowest 
degree  of  sanctifying  grace  is  worth  more  than  all  the 
riches  of  the  world.  Think,  then,  of  all  the  riches  of  this 
world  !  The  mines  of  gold,  of  precious  stones,  the  forests 
of  costly  wood,  and  all  the  hidden  stores  of  wealth,  for  the 


456  THE  ORE  A  T  BA  NQ  UET  : 

least  of  which  treasures  the  children  of  this  world  are  will- 
ing  to  toil,  and  struggle,  and  sin  for  a  whole  lifetime. 
Again,  consider  that  the  lowest  grace  which  an  humble 
Catholic  Christian  receives  at  the  rails  of  the  sanctuary  at 
dawn  of  day,  before  the  great  world  is  astir,  outweighs  all 
those  riches. 

But  why  do  I  draw  my  comparison  from  the  things  of 
this  world  ?  St.  Teresa,  after  her  death,  appeared  to  one 
of  her  sisters  in  religion,  and  told  her  that  all  the  saints  in 
heaven,  without  exception,  would  be  willing  to  come  back 
to  this  world  and  to  remain  here  till  the  end  of  time, 
suffering  all  the  miseries  to  which  our  mortal  state  is  sub 
ject,  only  to  gain  one  more  degree  of  sanctifying  grace  and 
the  eternal  glory  corresponding  to  it.  Nay,  I  even  assert 
that  all  the  devils  in  hell  would  consider  all  the  torments 
of  their  dark  abode,  endured  for  millions  upon  millions  of 
ages,  largely  recompensed  by  the  least  degree  of  that  grace 
which  they  have  once  rejected.  These  thoughts  give  us  a 
grand  and  sublime  idea  of  the  value  of  grace ;  but  there  is 
another  consideration  that  ought  to  raise  our  estimate  of  it 
still  higher,  namely,  that  God  Himself,  the  Eternal  Son  of 
the  Father,  came  down  upon  earth,  was  made  man,  suf 
fered  and  died  the  death  of  the  cross  in  order  to  purchase 
it  for  us.  His  life  is  in  some  way  the  measure  of  its  value. 

Now,  this  sanctifying  grace  is  poured  upon  us,  in  Holy 
Communion,  in  floods  !  The  King  of  heaven  is  then  pre 
sent  in  our  souls,  scattering  profusely  His  benedictions,  and 
making  us  taste  of  the -powers  of  the  world  to  come.  Oh  ! 
if  any  one  of  us  were  to  see  his  own  soul  immediately  after 
communion,  how  amazed  and  confounded  would  he  not  be 
at  the  sight  of  it  !  He  would  take  it  for  an  angel. 

St.  Catherine  of  Sienna,  having  been  asked  by  her  con 
fessor  to  describe  to  him  the  beauty  of  a  soul  in  a  state  of 
grace,  as  it  had  been  revealed  to  her,  replied:  "The  beauty 
and  lustre  of  such  a  soul  is  so  great  that  if  you  were  to 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  467 

behold  it,  you  would  be  willing  to  endure  all  possible  pains 
and  sufferings  for  its  sake."  Need  we  wonder,  then,  that 
the  angels  loved  to  keep  company  with  those  saints  on 
earth  who  every  day,  with  great  devotion,  received  Holy 
Communion  ;  and  that  even  the  faces  of  those  who  have 
been  ardent  lovers  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament  have  some 
times  shone  with  the  glory  with  which  they  were  filled  ? 
Does  not  Christ  say  of  such  a  soul :  "  How  beautiful  art 
thou,  my  beloved  !  how  beautiful  art  thou"  ?  What  great 
value  should  wo,  then,  not  set  on  this  divine  sacrament !  At 
each  communion  we  gain  more  and  more  upon  what  is  bad 
in  our  hearts  ;  we  bring  God  more  and  more  into  them: 
and  we  come  nearer  to  that  heavenly  state  in  which  they 
shall  be  altogether  "without  spot  or  wrinkle,"  holy  and 
without  blemish.  Should  we  not,  then,  esteem  this  won 
der-working  sacrament  more  than  anything  else  in  this 
world  ?  Ought  we  not  continually  to  give  thanks  to  God  for 
so  great  a  blessing,  and,  above  all,  show  our  thankfulness 
by  receiving  it  frequently  and  devoutly  ?  I  leave  it  to  you, 

0  Christian  soul  !  to  answer  what  I  have  said.     I  will  noi 
dwell  longer  on  this  point ;  reflect  and  act  accordingly.     I 
must  pass  on  to  explain  some  of  the  other  wonderful  effects 
of  this  precious  sacrament. 

The  benefit  to  be  derived  from  Holy  Communion,  which 

1  will  notice  in  the  second  place,  consists  in  this :  that  we 
are  thereby  preserved  from  mortal  sin.     In  like  manner,  as 
the  body  is  continually  in  danger  of  death  by  reason  of  the 
law  of  decay  which  works  unceasingly  within  us,   so,   in 
like  manner,  the  life  of  the  soul  is  constantly  in  jeopardy 
from  that  fearful  proneness  to  sin  which  belongs  to  our 
fallen  nature.     Accordingly,  as    Almighty    God,    in    His 
wisdom,  has  ordained  natural  food  as  the  means  of  repairing 
the  decay  of  the  body  and  of  warding  off  death,  so  has  He 
seen  fit  to  give  us  a  spiritual  and  heavenly  food  to  keep  us 
from  falling  into  mortal  sin,  which  causes  the  death  of  the 


458  THE  ORE  A  T  JJA  NQ  VET; 

soul.  This  food  is  the  Holy  Eucharist,  as  the  Council  of 
Trent  teaches  us,  saying  that  the  sacrament  of  Eucharist  is 
"  the  antidote  by  which  we  are  freed  from  daily  faults  and 
preserved  from  mortal  sins."  And  hence  St.  Francis  de 
Sales  compares  Holy  Communion  to  the  Tree  of  Life 
which  grew  in  the  midst  of  the  garden  of  Paradise,  say 
ing  that,  "as  our  first  parents,  by  eating  of  that  tree, 
might  have  avoided  the  death  of  the  body,  so  we,  by 
feeding  on  this  sacrament  of  life,  may  avoid  the  death  of 
the  soul." 

Do  you  ask  how  the  Blessed  Sacrament  preserves  us  from 
mortal  sin  ?  I  reply,  In  two  ways :  by  weakening  oui 
passions,  and  by  protecting  us  against  the  assaults  of  the 
devil.  Every  one  has  some  besetting  sin,  some  passion 
which  is  excited  in  his  heart  more  easily  and  more  fre 
quently  than  any  other,  and  which  is  the  cause  of  the 
greater  part  of  his  faults.  In  some,  it  is  anger  ;  in  others, 
envy  ;  in  others,  pride ;  in  others,  sensuality  and  impurity. 
Now,  however  weak  one  may  be,  and  by  whatsoever  passion 
he  may  be  agitated,  let  him  frequently  receive  the  Body  of 
Christ,  and  his  soul  will  become  tranquil  and  strong.  The 
saints  would  express  this  by  saying  that,  as  the  waters  of 
the  Jordan  stood  back  when  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant  came 
into  the  river,  so  our  passions  and  evil  inclinations  are 
repelled  when  Jesus  Christ  enters  into  our  hearts  in  Holy 
Communion.  St.  Bernard  says:  "If  we  do  not  experience 
so  frequent  and  violent  attacks  of  anger,  envy,  and  concu 
piscence  as  formerly,  let  us  give  thanks  to  Jesus  Christ  in 
the  Blessed  Sacrament,  who  has  produced  these  effects  in 
us."  Accordingly,  in  the  Thanksgiving  which  the  Church 
has  provided  to  be  used  by  the  priest  after  the  celebration 
of  Mass,  there  is  a  prayer  for  imploring  God  that,  in  like 
manner  as  the  holy  martyr  St.  Lawrence  overcame  the  toi 
ments  of  fire,  the  soul  which  has  been  fed  with  this  Bread 
of  Heaven  may  be  enabled  to  extinguish  the  flames  of  gin. 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  459 

There  are  thousands  of  cases  which  attest  the  efficacy  of  the 
Blessed  Sacrament  in  this  respect. 

In  Ferrara  there  lived  a  man  who,  in  his  youth,  was  ver} 
much  molested  with  temptations  of  the  flesh,  to  which 
he  often  gave  consent,  and  thus  committed  many  mor 
tal  sins.  To  free  himself  from  this  miserable  state  he 
determined  to  marry  ;  but  his  wife  died  very  soon,  and  he 
was  again  in  danger.  lie  was  not  disposed  to  marry  again  ; 
but  to  remain  a  widower  was,  he  thought,  to  expose  himself 
anew  to  his  former  temptations.  In  this  emergency  he 
consulted  a  good  friend,  and  received  the  advice  to  go  fre 
quently  to  confession  and  Holy  Communion.  He  followed 
this  advice,  and  experienced  in  himself  such  extraordinary 
effects  of  the  sacrament  that  he  could  not  help  exclaiming: 
"  Oh  !  why  did  I  not  sooner  meet  with  such  a  friend  ?  Most 
certainly  I  would  not  have  committed  so  many  abominable 
sins  of  impurity  had  I  more  frequently  received  this  sacra 
ment  which  makeili  virgins" * 

In  the  life  of  St.  Philip  Neri  we  read  that  one  day  a 
young  man  who  was  leading  a  very  impure  life  came  to  the 
saint  to  confession.  St.  Philip,  knowing  that  there  was  no 
better  remedy  against  concupiscence  than  the  most  sacred 
Body  of  Jesus  Christ,  counselled  him  to  frequent  the  sacra 
ments.  By  this  means  he  was,  in  a  short  time,  entirely 
freed  from  his  vicious  habits,  and  became  pure  like  an 
angel.  Oh  !  how  many  souls  have  made  the  same  expe 
rience  !  Ask  any  Christian  who  has  once  lived  in  sin,  and 
afterwards  truly  amended,  from  what  moment  he  began  to 
get  the  better  of  his  passions,  and  he  will  answer,  from  the 
moment  that  he  began  to  frequent  the  sacraments.  How 
should  it  be  otherwise  ?  Jesus  calms  the  winds  and  seas  by 
a  single  word.  What  storm  will  be  able  to  resist  his  power  ? 
What  gust  of  passion  will  not  subside  when,  on  entering 
the  soul,  He  says  :  "  Peace  be  with  thee  ;  be  not  afraid  ;  it 
*  Baldesanus  in  Stim.  Virt.  L  c.  8. 


460  THE  GREAT  BANQUET; 

is  77  "  The  danger  of  mortal  sin,  however,  arises  not  only 
from  the  strength  of  our  passions,  but  also  from  the  vio 
lence  of  the  temptations  with  which  the  devil  assails  us ; 
and  against  these,  too,  the  Blessed  Sacrament  protects  us. 

When  Kamirus,  King  of  Spain,  had  been  fighting  a  long 
time  against  the  Saracens,  he  retired  with  his  soldiers  to  a 
^mountain    to    implore    the    assistance   of  Almighty   God. 
/Whilst  at  prayer,  St.  James  the  Apostle  appeared  to  him 
and  commanded  him  to  make  all  his  soldiers  go  to  confes 
sion  and  communion  the  day  following,  and  then  to  lead 
them  out  against  their  enemies.     After  all  had  been  done 
that  the  saint  commanded,  they  again  had  an  engagement 
with  the  Saracens,   and  gained  a  complete  and   brilliant 
victory.  * 

How  much  more,  in  our  conflict  with  the  devil,  shall  we 
not  be  enabled,  by  means  of  Holy  Communion,  to  put  him 
to  flight  and  cover  him  with  shame  and  confusion  !  St. 
Thomas  says  :  "  Hell  was  subdued  by  the  death  of  our 
Saviour ;  and  the  Blessed  Sacrament  of  the  altar  being  a 
mystical  renewal  of  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  devils  no 
sooner  behold  His  body  and  blood  in  us  than  they  immedi 
ately  take  to  flight,  giving  place  to  the  angels,  who  draw 
nigh  and  assist  us."  St.  John  Chrysostom  says  :  "  As  the 
angel  of  destruction  passed  by  all  the  houses  of  the  Israel 
ites  without  doing  them  any  harm,  because  he  found  them 
sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  the  lamb,  so  the  devil  passes  by 
us  when  he  beholds  within  us  the  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  the 
Lamb  of  God."  And  St.  Ambrose  says  :  "  When  thy  adver 
sary  shall  see  thy  habitation  taken  up  with  the  brightness 
of  the  presence  of  God  in  thy  soul,  he  departs  and  flies 
away,  perceiving  that  no  room  is  left  for  his  temptations." 

Oh  !  how  often  has  it  happened  that  souls  were  so  dread 
fully  tormented  by  the  evil  representations,  suggestions,  and 
temptations  of  the  devil  as  not  to  know  what  to  do  !     But 
*  Chron.  Gen.  Alphon.  Reg. 


ffoLr  COMMUNION.  461 

no  sooner  had  they  received  Holy  Communion  than  they 
became  at  once  quite  calm  and  peaceful  !  Read  the  life  of 
any  of  the  saints,  and  you  will  find  instances  of  this  ;  or 
ask  any  devout  Catholic,  and  he  will  tell  you  that  what  I 
have  asserted  is  but  reality.  Nay,  the  devil  himself  must 
confess,  and  has  often  confessed,  this  truth.  If  he  were 
forced  to  say  why  it  is  that  he  cannot  tempt  such  and  such 
a  soul  oftener  and  more  violently;  why  it  is  that,  to  his  own 
shame  and  confusion,  he  is  forced  to  withdraw  so  often 
from  a  soul  which  once  he  held  in  his  power,  what  do  you 
think  he  would  answer  ?  Hear  what  he  once  answered. 

A  person  whom,  by  a  special  permission  of  God,  he  was 
allowed  to  harass  very  much,  and  even  drag  about  on  the 
ground,  was  exorcised  by  a  priest  of  our  congregation,  and 
the  devil  was  commanded  to  say  whether  or  not  Holy  Com 
munion  was  very  useful  and  profitable  to  the  soul.  At  the 
first  and  second  interrogatory  he  would  not  answer,  but  the 
third  time,  being  commanded  in  the  name  of  the  blessed 
Trinity,  he  replied  with  a  howl :  "  Profitable  !  Know  that 
if  this  person  had  not  received  Holy  Communion  so  many 
times,  we  should  have  had  her  completely  in  our  power." 
Behold,  then,  our  great  weapon  against  the  devil  !  "  Yes," 
says  the  great  St.  'John  Chrysostom,  -''after  receiving  the 
Body  and  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  Holy  Eucharist,  we 
become  as  terrible  to  the  devil  as  a  furious  lion  is  to  man." 

When  the  King  of  Syria  went  out  to  take  the  prophet 
Eliscus  captive,  the  servant  of  the  man  of  God  was  very 
much  afraid  at  seeing  the  great  army  and  the  horses  and 
chariots,  and  he  said:  "Alas  !  alas  !  alas!  my  lord,  what 
shall  we  do  ?»  But  the  prophet  said  :  "Fear  not;  for 
there  are  more  with  us  than  with  them";  and  then  he 
showed  the  trembling  servant  how  the  whole  mountain  was 
full  of  angels  ready  to  defend  them.  So,  however  weak  we 
may  be,  and  however  powerful  our  enemies,  fortified  with 
the  Bread  of  Heaven,  we  have  no  reason  to  fear :  we  are 


462  THE  GREAT  BANQUET : 

stro  '.gei  than  hell,  for  God  is  with  us.  "The  Lord  ruleth 
me  ;  I  s'uill  want  nothing.  Though  I  should  walk  in  the 
midst  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  fear  no  evils,  for  thou  art 
with  me.  Thou  hast  prepared  a  table  before  me  against 
them  that  afflict  me." 

With  what  justice  does  not  St.  Francis  de  Sales  appeal  to 
us,  saying  :  "  0  Philothea  !  what  reply  shall  reprobate  Chris 
tians  be  able  to  make  to  the  reproaches  of  the  just  Judge 
for  having  lost  His  grace,  when  it  was  so  easy  to  have  pre 
served  it?"  If  the  means  of  avoiding  sin  had  been  very 
difficult,  the  case  of  the  reprobate  might  seem  hard;  but 
who  can  pity  him  who  has  but  to  obey  the  easy  command  : 
"  Take  and  eat;  if  any  man  shall  eat  of  this  bread  he  shall 
live  for  ever  "  ?  For  a  Catholic  to  fall  into  mortal  sin  is  as  if 
one  should  starve  at  a  splendid  banquet;  and  for  a  Christian 
to  die  in  the  power  of  the  devil  is  to  be  in  love  with  death. 

But  there  are  other  riches  in  this  Blessed  Sacrament 
which  remain  to  be  unfolded.  It  not  only  increases  in  us 
sanctifying  grace  and  preserves  us  from  mortal  sin,  but  it 
truly  unites  us  to  God ;  and  this  is  the  third  effect  of  this 
Holy  Sacrament.  God,  wishing  to  establish  an  intimate  union 
between  the  soul  and  Himself,  wishing  to  unite  His  divine 
nature  to  our  human  nature,  took  upon  Himself  human 
nature,  and  commands  us  to  receive  His  humanity,  that  we 
may  become  partakers  of  His  divinity.  His  human  nature, 
His  human  Flesh  and  Blood,  are  the  means  which  God  has 
chosen  from  all  eternity  for  the  purpose  of  uniting  us  to 
Himself.  By  partaking  of  His  human  nature,  by  partaking 
of  His  sacred  Flesh  and  Blood,  we  become,  as  St.  Peter  says, 
partakers  of  the  divine  nature.  We  bear  about  God  Him 
self  in  our  bodies,  as  St.  Paul  forcibly  expresses  it. 

The  most  obvious  sense  in  which  this  sacrament  is  said  tc 
unite  us  to  God  is  that  which  is  suggested  by  the  doctrine 
of  the  Real  Presence  itself.  In  the  Holy  Eucharist  we  re 
ceive  the  very  Body  and  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  as  mem- 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  463 

bers  of  the  same  family  arc  united  together  by  the  ties  of  the 
common  blood  which  Hows  in  their  veins,  so  we  become 
truly  kinsmen  of  Christ  ;  by  participation  of  the  blood 
which  He  received  from  His  most  Holy  Mother,  and  shed 
on  the  cross  for  us.  Hence,  St.  Alphonsus  says  "  that  as 
the  food  we  take  is  changed  into  our  blood,  so,  in  Holy 
Communion,  God  becomes  one  with  us;  with  this  differ 
ence,  however,  that  whereas  earthly  food  is  changed  into 
our  substance,  we  assume,  as  it  were,  the  nature  of  Jesus 
Christ,"  as  He  Himself  declared  to  St.  Augustine,  saying, 
"  It  is  not  I  that  shall  be  changed  into  }ou,  but  you  shall 
be  changed  into  me."  "  Yes,"  says  St.  Cyril  of  Alexandria, 
"he  who  communicates  unites  himself  as  closely  to  Jesus 
Christ  as  two  pieces  of  wax,  when  melted,  become  one." 
And  the  saints  have  always  been  so  penetrated  with  this 
belief  that,  after  Holy  Communion,  they  would  exclaim :  "  0 
Je.sus  !  now  Thou  art  mine  and  I  am  Thine  !  Thou  art  in  me, 
and  I  am  in  Thee  !  Now  Thou  belongest  entirely  to  me,  and 
I  belong  entirely  to  Thee.  Thy  soul  is  mine,  and  my  soul 
is  Thine  !  Thy  life  is  mine,  and  my  life  is  Thine  ! " 

But  this  is  not  all.  We  are  united  to  our  Lord's  sacred 
Humanity  in  order  that  we  maybe  made  conformable  to  His 
image  in  will  and  affections;  accordingly,  in  the  Eucharist 
we  receive  from  Him  infused  virtues,  especially  faith,  hope, 
and  charity,  the  three  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the 
children  of  God. 

As  to  faith,  it  is  so  much  increased  by  communion  that 
this  sacrament  might  be  called  the  Sacrament  of  Faitli,  not 
only  because  it  makes  as  large  a  demand  on  our  faith  as  any 
mystery  of  our  holy  religion,  but  also  because  it  more  than 
any  other  increases  and  confirms  it.  It  seems  as  if  God,  in 
reward  of  the  generous  faith  with  which  we  believe  this  doc 
trine,  often  gives  an  inward  light,  which  enables  the  soul 
in  some  way  to  comprehend  it,  and  with  it  the  other  truths 
of  faith.  So  the  Council  of  Trent  says  "  that  the  mode 


464  TEE  GRSA T£AXQ UET : 

of  Christ's  presence  in  the  Eucharist  can  hardly  be  express 
ed  in  words,  but  the  pious  mind,  illuminated  by  faith,  can 
conceive  of  it."  The  reception  of  this  sacrament  is  the  best 
explanation  of  the  difficulties  which  sense  opposes  to  it.  It 
was  in  the  "breaking  of  bread  at  Emmaus  that  the  two  dis 
ciples  recognized  Jesus.  He  himself  gives  us  evidence  of 
the  reality  of  the  divine  Presence  in  this  heavenly  food,  and 
makes  us  taste  what  we  do  not  understand.  One  day  a  holy 
soul  said  to  Father  Surin,  of  the  Society  of  Jesus :  "I 
would  not  exchange  a  single  one  of  the  divine  communica 
tions  which  I  receive  in  Holy  Communion  for  anything 
whatever  men  or  angels  might  present  to  me." 

Sometimes  God  adds  to  these  favors  the  gift  of  a  spiritual 
joy  and  delight,  intense  and  indescribable.  St.  Thomas 
says  "  that  Holy  Communion  is  a  spiritual  eating,  which 
communicates  an  actual  delight  to  such  souls  as  receive  it 
devoutly  and  with  due  preparation."  And  the  effect  of  this 
delight,  according  to  St.  Cyprian,  is  that  it  detaches  the 
heart  from  all  worldly  pleasures,  and  makes  it  die  to  every 
thing  perishable.  Nay,  this  joy  is  sometimes  even  commu 
nicated  to  the  exterior  senses,  penetrating  them  with  a  sweet 
ness  so  great  that  nothing  in  the  world  can  be  compared  to 
it.  St.  Francis,  St.  Monica,  St.  Agnes,  and  many  others  are 
witnesses  of  this,  who,  intoxicated  with  celestial  sweetness 
in  Holy  Communion,  exulted  for  joy  and  exclaimed  with  the 
Psalmist :  "  My  heart  and  my  flesh  have  rejoiced  in  the 
living  God.  For  what  have  I  in  heaven  ?  and  besides  Thee 
what  do  I  desire  upon  earth  ?  Thou  art  the  God  of  my 
heart,  and  the  God  that  is  my  portion  for  ever.  My  Jesus, 
my  Love,  my  God,  my  All."  Oh  !  wha,t  a  firm  faith  men 
would  have  in  this  mystery,  did  they  communicate  often  and 
devoutly  !  One  single  communion  is  better  than  all  the  ar 
guments  of  the  schools.  We  have  not  a  lively  faith,  we 
think  little  of  heaven,  of  hell,  of  the  evil  of  sin,  of  the 
goodness  of  our  Lord,  and  the  duty  of  loving  Him,  because 


HOL  Y  COMMUNION.  465 

we  stay  away  from  communion  ;  let  us  eat,  and  our  eyes 
Bluill  be  opened.     "  Taste  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  sweet." 
Hope,  also,  receives  a  great  increase  from  this  sacrament, 
for  it  is  the  pledge  of  our  inheritance,  and  has  the  promise 
of  eternal  life  attached  to  it.      By  sin  our  body  has  been 
doomed  to  death  and  corruption;  but  by  eating  the  Flesh 
and  Bltod  of  Jesus  Christ  the  seed  of  immortality  is  im 
planted  in  it.     Our  flesh  and  blood,  mingling  with  the  Flesh 
and  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  are  fitted  for  a  glorious  resurrec 
tion.     Leaven  or  yeast,  when  mixed  with  dough,  soon  pene 
trates  the  entire  mass,  and  imparts  new  qualities  to  it.      In 
like  manner  the  glorified  Body  of  Jesus  Christ  penetrates 
through  our  entire  being,  and  endows  it  with  new  qualities — 
the  qualities  of  glory  and  immortality.     Our  divine  Saviour 
Himself  assures  us  of  this  ;  for  He  says :   "  He  that  eateth 
my  Flesh  and  drinketh  my  Blood  abideth  in  me  and  I  in 
him.      As  the  living  Father  hath  sent  me,  and  I  live  by  the 
Father,  so  he  that  eateth  me,  the  same  also  shall  live  by  me, 
and  I  will  raise  him  up  in  the  last  day."  *     St.  Paul  argues 
that   "  if  we  are  sons,  then  we  are  heirs,  heirs  indeed  of 
God,  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ";  and  elsewhere  he  says 
"that  we  glory  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God."     It  is  true 
that  in  this  life  we  never  can  have  an  infallible  assurance  of 
our  salvation,  but  Holy  Communion  most  powerfully  con 
firms  and  strengthens  our  hope  of  obtaining  heaven  and  the 
graces  necessary  for  living  and  dying  holily.     However  great 
the  fear  and  diffidence  may  be  with  which  our  sins  inspire 
us,  what  soul  is  not  comforted  when  our  Saviour  Himself 
enters  the  heart  and  seems  to  say  :  "  Ask  whatever  you  will, 
and  it  shall  be  done  unto  you  "?     "  Can  I  refuse  the  less,  who 
have   given  the   greater  ?     Can   I  withhold  any  necessary 
graces,  who  have  given  myself  ?     Shall  I  refuse  to  bring  you 
to  reign  with  me  in  heaven,  who  am  come  down  on  earth 
to  dwell  with  you  ?  " 

*  Johnrt 


466  TEE  GREAT  BANQUET: 

Chanty,  however,  is  the  virtue  which  is  more  especially 
nourished  by  the  Holy  Eucharist.  This  may  be  called,  by 
eminence,  the  proper  effect  of  this  sacrament,  as  indeed  it 
is  of  the  Incarnation  itself.  "  I  am  come  to  cast  fire  upon 
the  earth,  and  what  will  I  but  that  it  be  kindled  ?  "  *  And 
St.  Dionysius  the  Areopagite  says  that  "  Jesus  Christ  in 
the  most  Holy  Eucharist  is  a  fire  of  charity."  It  could  not 
be  otherwise.  As  a  burning  house  sets  the  adjacent  ones  on 
fire,  so  the  Heart  of  Jesus  Christ,  which  is  always  burning 
with  love,  communicates  the  flames  of  charity  to  those  who 
receive  Him  in  Holy  Communion ;  accordingly,  St.  Mary 
Magdalen  of  Pazzi,  St.  Catherine  of  Sienna,  St.  Teresa, 
St.  Philip  Neri,  St.  Francis  Xavier,  and  thousands  of  others, 
by  their  frequent  communions,  became,  as  it  were,  furnaces 
of  divine  love.  "Do  you  not  feel,"  said  St.  Vincent  of 
Paul  to  his  brothers  in  religion,  "  do  you  not  become  sen 
sible  of  the  divine  fire  in  your  hearts,  after  having  received 
the  adorable  Body  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  Holy  Eucharist?''" 
In  proof  of  the  strength  of  love  which  souls  derive  from 
Holy  Communion,  I  might  appeal  to  the  ecstasies  and  rap 
tures  which  so  many  souls  have  experienced  at  the  reception 
of  the  most  Holy  Eucharist.  What  were  all  these  favors 
but  flames  of  divine  love,  enkindled  by  this  heavenly  fire, 
which,  as  it  were,  destroyed  in  them  themselves,  and  con 
formed  them  to  the  image  of  their  Saviour  ?  Or  I  might 
take  my  proof  from  those  sweet  tears  which  flow  from  the 
eyes  of  so  many  servants  of  God  when  at  the  communion- 
rail  they  receive  the  Bread  of  Heaven.  But  I  have  a  better 
proof  than  these  transports  of  devotion  :  I  mean  suffering. 
This  the  true  test  of  love.  St.  Paul  says  that  the  Christian 
gloriss  in  tribulation,  because  the  charity  of  God  is  poured 
out  into  his  heart ;  and  so  the  Holy  Eucharist,  by  infusing 
love  into  our  hearts,  gives  us  strength  to  suffer  for  Christ. 

In  the  life  of  St.  Ludwina,  who  was  sick  for  thirty-eight 
*St.  Lukexii.  49. 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  467 

years  uninterruptedly,  we  read  that,  in  the  beginning  of  her 
sickness,  she  shrank  from  suffering.  By  a  particular  dis 
position  of  Providence,  however,  a  celebrated  servant  of 
God,  John  Por,  went  to  see  her,  and,  perceiving  that  she 
was  not  quite  resigned  to  the  will  of  God,  he  exhorted  her 
to  meditate  frequently  on  the  sufferings  of  Jesus  Christ, 
that  by  the  remembrance  of  His  Passion  she  might  gain  cou 
rage  to  suffer  more  willingly.  She  promised  to  do  so,  and 
fulfilled  her  promise  ;  but  she  could  not  find  any  relief  for 
her  soul.  Every  meditation  was  disgusting  and  unpleasant, 
and  she  began  again  to  break  out  into  her  usual  complaints. 
After  a  while  her  director  returned  to  her,  and  asked  her 
how  she  had  succeeded  in  meditating  upon  our  Lord's  Pas 
sion,  and  what  profit  she  had  derived  from  it.  "0  my 
father! "she  answered,  "your  counsel  was  very  good  in 
deed,  but  the  greatness  of  my  suffering  does  not  allow  me  to 
find  any  consolation  in  meditating  on  my  Saviour's  sorrows." 
lie  exhorted  her  for  some  time  to  continue  this  exercise,  no 
matter  how  insipid  soever  it  might  be  to  her ;  but  perceiving 
at  last  that  she  drew  no  fruit  from  it,  his  zeal  suggested  an 
other  means.  He  gave  her  Holy  Communion,  and  after 
wards  whispered  in  her  ear :  "  Till  now  /have  exhorted  you 
to  the  continual  remembrance  of  Christ's  sufferings  as  a  re 
medy  for  your  pains,  but  now  let  Jesus  Christ  Himself  ex 
hort  you."  Behold  !  no  sooner  had  she  swallowed  the 
sacred  Most  than  she  felt  such  a  great  love  for  Jesus,  and 
such  an  ardent  desire  to  become  like  unto  Him  in  His  suffer 
ings,  that  she  broke  out  into  sobs  and  sighs,  and  for  two 
weeks  was  hardly  able  to  stop  her  tears.  From  that  moment 
the  pains  and  sufferings  of  her  Saviour  remained  so  deeply 
impressed  upon  her  mind  that  she  thought  of  them  all  the 
time,  and  thus  was  enabled  patiently  to  suffer  for  Him  who, 
for  the  love  of  her,  had  endured  so  many  and  so  great  pains 
and  torments.  Her  disease  at  last  grew  so  violent  that  her 
flesh  began  to  corrupt  and  to  be  filled  with  worms,  and  the 


468  THE  GREAT 

putrefaction  extended  even  internally,  so  that  she  had  tc 
suffer  the  most  excruciating  pains.  But,  comforted  by  the 
example  of  Jesus  Christ,  she  not  only  praised  God  and  gave 
thanks  to  Him  for  all  her  sufferings,  but  even  vehemently 
desired  to  suffer  still  more  ;  nay,  by  meditating  on  the  Pas 
sion  of  Jesus  Christ,  she  was  so  much  inflamed  with  love 
that  she  used  to  say  "  it  was  not  she  who  suffered,  but  her 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  who  suffered  in  her."* 

Thus,  by  Holy  Communion,  this  saint  received  a  grace  by 
which  she  has  merited  to  be  numbered  among  the  most  pa 
tient  of  saints.  Nor  is  this  a  single  case.  Animated  by 
this  heavenly  food,  St.  Lawrence  braved  the  flames,  St.  Vin~ 
cent  the  rack,  St.  Sebastian  the  shower  of  arrows,  St.  Ig 
natius,  Bishop  of  Antioch,  the  fury  of  lions,  and  many 
oilier  martyrs  every  kind  of  torture  which  the  malice  of  the 
devil  could  invent,  content  if  they  could  but  return  their 
Saviour  love  for  love,  life  for  life,  death  for  death.  They 
embraced  the  very  instruments  of  their  tortures;  yea,  they 
even  exulted  and  gloried  in  them.  Now,  this  was  the  effect 
of  the  Holy  Eucharist ;  this  life-giving  bread  imparted  to 
them  coin-age  and  joy  in  every  pain  and  trial.  For  this 
very  reason,  in  the  early  times  of  the  persecutions,  all 
Christians,  in  order  to  be  prepared  for  martyrdom,  received 
the  Blessed  Sacrament  every  day ;  and  when  the  danger  was 
too  pressing  for  them  to  assemble  together,  they  even  car 
ried  the  sacred  Host  to  their  own  homes,  that  they  might 
communicate  themselves  early  in  the  morning. f  It  was  for 
the  same  reason  that  Christ  instituted  the  Holy  Eucharist 
just  before  His  Passion,  that  He  might  thereby  fortify  His 
apostles  for  the  trials  that  were  coming  on  them.  It  is  true 
we  have  not  so  fierce  a  conflict  to  endure  as  the  early  Chris 
tians  had,  nor  has  any  one  such  a  dreadful  sickness  as  St 

*  Surius,  14  April,  in  Vita  S.  Ludwince,  part  i.  c.  14. 
f  The  same  was  done  by  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  during  her  captivity  in 
England,  when  she  was  deprived  of  the  ministry  of  a  priest. 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  469 

Ludwina  had;  but,  in  our  lighter  trials,  we  have  also  need 
of  this  fortitude  of  love,  nor  is  it  refused  to  us.  Multi 
tudes  of  pious  souls  confess  that  it  is  the  Holy  Com 
munion  alone  which  keeps  them  steady  in  the  practice  of 
virtue,  and  cheerful  amid  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life.  How 
often  do  we  hear  such  souls  declaring  that  on  the  days  they 
do  not  receive  communion  they  seem  to  themselves  lame  and 
miserable  ;  everything  goes  wrong  with  them,  and  all  their 
crosses  seem  tenfold  heavier  than  usual.  But  when,  in  the 
morning,  they  have  had  the  happiness  of  partaking  of  the 
Body  of  Christ,  everything  seems  to  go  well  ;  the  daily  an 
noyances  of  their  state  seem  to  disappear  ;  they  are  happy 
and  joyous  ;  words  of  kindness  seem  to  come  naturally  in 
their  mouths,  and  life  is  no  longer  the  burden  which  once  it 
seemed  to  be.  0  truly  wonder-working  sacrament !  Mar 
vellous  invention  of  divine  Love  !  surpassing  all  power  of 
speech  to  describe  or  thought  to  fathom.  When  the 
children  of  Israel  found  in  the  fields  the  bread  from  heaven 
which  God  gave  them  in  the  wilderness,  they  called  it 
"  Manhu  "— "  What  is  it?  "—because  they  did  not  know  what 
it  was.  So,  after  all  that  we  have  said  of  the  true  Manna, 
the  Sacrament  of  the  Holy  Eucharist,  we  must  confess  that 
we  are  unable  to  comprehend  it.  "  Man  docs  not  live  on 
bread  alone."  He  has  a  higher  life  than  that  which  is  nou 
rished  by  the  fruits  of  the  ground — a  spiritual  and  divine 
life ;  and  this  life  is  nourished  by  the  body  of  Christ.  Hid 
den  under  the  sacramental  form,  our  divine  Saviour  comes 
down  to  make  us  more  and  more  acceptable  to  Him  ;  to 
preserve  us,  in  this  dangerous  world,  from  mortal  sin  ;  to 
make  us  true  children  of  God  ;  to  console  us  in  our  exile ; 
to  give  us  a  pledge  of  our  eternal  happiness  ;  to  shed  abroad 
in  our  hearts  the  love  of  God.  And  as  if  this  was  not  enough, 

O       " 

and  as  if  to  set  the  seal  on  the  rest,  He  is  sometimes  pleased 
to  make  His  own  most  sacred  body  supply  the  place  of  all 
other  nourishment  ;.nd  miraculously  to  sustain  even  the  na- 


470  THE  ORE  AT  BANQUET: 

tural  life  of  His  servants  by  this  sacramental  food.  St. 
Catherine  of  Sienna,  from  Ash  Wednesday  to  Ascension 
day,  took  no  other  food  than  Holy  Communion.*  A  certain 
holy  virgin  of  Rome  spent  five  whole  Lents  without  tasting 
anything  else  than  the  Bread  of  Angels,  f 

Nicolas  de  Flue,  for  fifteen  successive  years,  lived  with 
out  other  nourishment  than  the  sacred  Body  of  our  Lord.J 
And  St.  Liberalis,  Bishop  of  Athens,  fasted  every  day  in 
the  week,  taking  nothing  whatever,  not  even  the  Blessed 
Sacrament,  and  on  Sunday  his  only  nourishment  consisted 
of  this  heavenly  food  ;  yet  he  was  always  strong  and  vigor 
ous^  We  can  but  repeat,  0  wonder-working  sacrament! 
We  are  at  a  loss  what  to  say. 

No  wonder  that  the  apostles  and  the  Fathers  of  the 
Church  taught  the  Christians  to  communicate  every  day. 
"  Continuing  daily  with  one  accord  in  the  Temple,  and 
breaking  bread  from  house  to  house,  they  took  their  meat 
with  gladness  and  simplicity  of  heart."  ||  The  best  inter 
preters  understand  this  of  daily  communion.  St.  Jerome 
and  the  earliest  writers  testify  to  this  fact,  and  hence  St. 
Thomas  says  :  "  It  is  certain  that  in  the  early  ages  all  who 
assisted  at  Mass  received  Holy  Communion."  St.  Ambrose 
says  :f  "  Receive  the  Holy  Eucharist  every  day,  if  permitted, 
so  that  each  day  it  may  become  useful  to  you."  St.  Basil 
says  :  **  "  It  is  useful  to  communicate  every  day,  to  partici 
pate  of  the  Body  and  Blood  of  Jesus  Christ."  "  The  Holy 
Eucharist,"  says  St.  Augustine,  "  is  your  daily  bread,  neces 
sary  for  this  lifc."tt  The  Council  of  Trent  taught  the  same 
doctrine  to  her  children:  "The  -sacred  and  holy  synod 
would  fain  indeed  that  at  each  Mass  the  faithful  who  are 
present  should  communicate,  not  only  by  spiritual  desire,  but 

*  Surius,  29  April.  +  Cacciaguerra. 
{  Simon  Majolus  Canicular.    Collet  iv. 

§  P.  Nat.  L.  IV.,  Collat.  Sanct.  c.  xciii.  8  Lib.  v.  de  Sacr.  c.  4. 

I  Acts  ii.  46.               **  Epist.  ad  Caesar.  +t  Homil.  xliii.  in  Quinqua. 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  471 

also  by  the  sacramental  participation  of  the  Eucharist/"  * 
And  the  holy  council,  f  in  the  most  touching  appeal,  exhorts 
the  faithful  to  frequent  communion  :  "  The  holy  synod, 
with  true  fatherly  affection,  admonishes,  exhorts,  begs,  and 
beseeches,  through  the  mercy  of  our  Lord,  that  all  mindful 
of  the  exceeding  love  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  gave 
His  own  soul  as  the  price  of  our  salvation,  and  gave  us  His 
own  flesh  to  eat,  would  believe  and  venerate  those  sacred 
mysteries  of  His  Body  and  B'iood  with  such  constancy  and 
firmness  of  faith,  with  such  devotion  of  soul,  with  such 
piety  and  worship,  as  to  be  able  frequently  to  receive  that 
superstantial  bread,  that  it  may  be  to  them  truly  the  life  of 
the  soul  and  the  perpetual  health  of  their  mind,  and  that, 
being  invigorated  by  the  strength  thereof,  they  may,  after 
the  journeying  of  this  miserable  pilgrimage,  be  able  to  arrive 
at  their  heavenly  country,  there  to  eat,  without  the  veil, 
that  same  Bread  of  Angels  which  they  now  eat  under  the 
sacred  veils."  Pope  Benedict  XIV.J  expresses  the  ardent 
desire  of  seeing  renewed  in  the  Church  the  fervor  and  daily 
communion  of  the  first  centuries.  St.  Thomas  says  :  "  The 
yirtue  of  the  sacrament  of  the  Eucharist  is  to  give  to  man 
salvation  ;  therefore  it  is  useful  that  we  should  participate 
in  it  every  day,  so  as  to  partake  each  day  of  its  fruits. "§  St. 
Charles  Borromeo  says:  "Let  the  pastors  and  preachers 
frequently  exhort  the  faithful  to  the  salutary  practice  ot 
frequent  communion,  by  the  example  and  practice  of  the 
primitive  Church,  by  the  words  and  testimonies  of  the 
Fathers  of  the  Church,  and,  finally,  by  the  sentiments  of 
the  Council  of  Trent,  which  wishes  us  to  communicate  each 
time  that  we  assist  at  Mass."  ||  After  these  exhortations  of 
the  Fathers  of  the  Church  frequently  to  receive  Holy  Com 
munion  ;  after  these  reflections  on  the  great  benefit  which 
we  reap  from  the  frequent  reception  of  the  Bread  of  Angels, 


xxii.  c.  vi.          +  Sess.  xiii.  c.  viii.  t  Bullar.  torn.  i.  page  440 

§  Pars  iii.  quest .  80,  art .  81 .  I  Council  iii .  p .  74 . 


472  THE  GREAT  BANQUET: 

we  might  naturally  expect  to  find  men  eager  often  to  avail 
themselves  of  a  means  of  grace  so  rich  and  so  powerful. 
But  our  greatest  misery  is  that  we  are  blind  to  our  true 
happiness.  Such  is  the  deceitfulness  of  sin  and  the  sub 
tlety  of  the  devil  that  almost  every  one  has  some  reason  to 
give  why  he  at  least  should  not  receive  communion  fre 
quently.* 

*  By  frequent  communion  the  approved  writers  of  the  Church  under 
stand  communion  every  day  several  days  in  the  week,  or  at  least  oftener 
than  once  a  week.  St.  Alphonsus  Liguori,  the  learned  bishop  and  doc 
tor  of  the  Church,  repeats  again  and  again  that  communion  once  a  week 
is  not  frequent  communion.  The  holy  doctor  says  :  "  Monthly  or  weekly 
communion  cannot  be  called  frequent,  on  account  of  the  great  coldness 
of  these  miserable  times  ;  for,  according  to  the  ancient  discipline  of  the 
Church,  it  should  be  called  rare  rather  than  frequent.  To  receive  Holy 
Communion  every  day,  or  several  times  a  week,  we  must  be  free,  not 
only  from  mortal  sin,  but  also  from  every  affection  for  or  attachment 
to  deliberate  venial  sin."  Pope  Benedict  XIV.*  says  :  "  Confessors  should 
not  allow  frequent  communion  to  those  who,  avoiding  mortal  sin,  yet 
retain  an  affection  for  venial  faults,  of  which  they  do  not  wish  to  correct 
themselves."  St.  Alphonsus  says  :  "  It  is  an  error  to  grant  frequent  com 
munion—that  is,  several  times  in  the  week— to  those  who  commit  venial 
faults,  for  which  they  retain  an  affection,  and  of  which  they  do  not 
wish  to  rid  themselves.  Hence  a  person  who  commits  deliberate  venial 
sins  by  telling  wilful  lies,  by  vanity  of  dress,  by  wilful  feelings  of  dis 
like,  by  inordinate  attachments,  or  is  guilty  of  other  similar  faults 
which  he  knows  to  be  an  obstacle  to  his  advancement  in  perfection,  and 
who  does  not  endeavor  to  correct  these  defects,  especially  if  these  defects 
were  against  humility  or  obedience,  that  person  cannot  be  permitted  to 
communicate  oftener  than  once  a  week."t  From  this,  however,  it 
does  not  follow  that  the  frequent  communicant  must  avoid  all  venial 
sins.  To  be  exempt  from  venial  sin  is  one  thing,  and  to  be  exempt  from 
an  affection  to  venial  sin  is  another.  The  Council  of  Trent  teaches  $  that 
it  is  impossible,  without  a  special  privilege  of  grace,  to  avoid  all  venial 
sin.  That  privilege  belonged  to  the  Immaculate  Mother  of  God  alone- 
A.  holy  soul  may  and  will  sometimes  fall  into  venial  faults,  but  she 
retains  no  affection  for  them  as  long  as  she  hates  and  detests  them,  and 
endeavors  to  avoid  them  for  the  time  to  come.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
soul  has  an  affection  for  those  venial  faults,  which  she  continues  to  com 
mit,  into  which  she  easily  and  frequently  falls,  without  making  any 
effort  to  avoid  or  correct  them.  St.  Francis  de  Sales  says  :  "  We  can 

•  De  Syn.  lib.  vli.  c.  12,  n. ».  t  Praxis  clxix.,  and  Spouse  of  Christ,  p.  686. 

t  Sess.  vi.  c.  xxiii. 


HOLT  COMMUNION.  473 

In  former  times  Christians  were  accustomed  to  communi 
cate  every  day,  and  then  their  lives  were  holy,  and  edifying, 
and  chaste,  and  humble ;  and  infidels  and  heretics,  struck 
by  the  purity  of  their  manners,  were  converted  in  crowds 
to  the  faith.  But,  in  after-ages,  luxury  crept  in,  and  the 
world  and  the  flesh  had  sway,  and  too  many  grew  cold  in 
love  and  lost  their  relish  for  this  heavenly  food.  And  now 
what  can  the  Church  do  to  cure  the  evil  ?  If  she  were  to 
make  it  obligatory  to  receive  Holy  Communion  frequently, 

never  be  perfectly  exempt  from  venial  sins,  but  we  can  very  well  avoid 
all  affection  to  venial  sin.  Truly  it  is  one  thing  to  tell  a  lie  once  or 
twice,  with  full  deliberation,  in  a  matter  of  little  importance,  and  an 
other  thing  to  take  pleasure  in  lying,  and  to  be  addicted  to  that  kind  of 
sin.  Affection  to  venial  sin  is  contrary  to  devotion  ;  it  weakens  the 
strength  of  the  soul,  prevents  divine  consolations,  opens  the  door  to 
temptations,  and,  if  it  does  not  kill  the  soul,  it  renders  it  extremely 
weak,  and  it  is  in  this  that  it  differs  from  venial  sins  ;  these  last  hap 
pening  to  a  soul,  and  not  there  continuing  long,  do  not  injure  it  much  ; 
but  should  the  same  venial  sins  remain  in  the  soul  by  the  affection  it 
feels  for  them,  they  cause  it  to  lose  the  grace  of  devotion." 

St.  Alphonsus  allows  one  exception  to  this  general  rule.  He  says  :  * 
"  It  is  sometimes  good  and  desirable  to  allow  frequent  communion  to 
those  who  are  in  danger  of  falling  into  mortal  sin,  that  they  may  re 
ceive  grace  and  strength  to  resist  the  temptations."  And  the  holy 
doctor  of  the  Church  relates  "that  a  certain  nobleman  was  so  habit 
ually  addicted  to  a  certain  grievous  and  sensual  sin  that  he  despaired 
of  overcoming  his  bad  habit.  Having  communicated  every  day  for 
several  weeks,  according  to  the  advice  of  his  confessor,  he  was  at  last 
entirely  delivered  from  the  vice  which  had  tyrannized  over  him  so  long, 
and  never  afterwards  committed  sin  against  the  holy  virtue  of  purity." 

A  person,  then,  who  endeavors  to  avoid  and  rid  himself  of  venial 
faults,  performs  mental  prayer  according  to  the  capacity  and  state  of 
his  life,  says  the  beads  and  hears  Mass  on  week-days,  makes  daily  his 
spiritual  reading,  performs  all  his  actions  with  the  intention  to  please 
Go  1,  practises  little  acts  of  humility,  self-denial,  and  mortification  of 
the  senses,  watches  and  obeys  the  inspirations  of  God,  pays  a  visit  to 
Jesus  Christ  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  and  to  the  Blessed  Virgin,  is  a 
very  fit  subject  for  frequent  communion.  "  If  any  one  finds  by  expe 
rience,"  says  St.  Thomas,  "that  by  daily  communion  the  fervor  of  his 
love  is  increased,  and  his  reverence  not  diminished,  such  a  person  ought 
to  communicate  every  day."  * 

•  Prula,  Num.  149  *  In  4  Sent.,  2, 9, 8,  Art- 1 


474  THE  GREAT  B 

she  would  run  the  risk  of  multiplying  mortal  sins,  and  of 
plunging  her  imperfect  members  more  deeply  into  guilt 
She  uses,  therefore,  a  wise  and  loving  moderation,  and,  as 
a  tender  mother,  when  every  other  expedient  fails,  speaks 
sternly  to  her  sick  child,  and  forces  it  to  take  the  food  or 
medicine  which  is  absolutely  necessary  to  life ;  she  enjoins, 
under  pain  of  mortal  sin,  a  single  communion  in  the  year, 
as  the  least  wliich  can  be  required  of  a  Christian.  But  is 
this  all  that  she  wishes  us  to  do  ?  Oh  !  no.  She  desires 
that  we  should  continually  nourish  ourselves  with  the 
Bread  of  Life.  In  the  Council  of  Trent  she  bewails  the 
disuse  of  daily  communion,  and  earnestly  exhorts  all  the 
faithful  to  a  frequent  use  of  this  sanctifying  food. 

Why  do  you  communicate  so  seldom  ? 

2.  But  you  may  say,  I  do  not  see  any  necessity  for  it ! 
There  are  many  others  who  do  not  receive  oftener  than  I 
do,  that  is — once  or  twice  a  year — and  yet  they  are  good 
Christians  ;  yea,  as  good  as  those  who  receive  very  often. 

I  will  not  dispute  your  assertion.  No  one  knows  the 
heart  of  another,  and  I  rather  wish  that  you  should  form  as 
charitable  a  judgment  as  you  can  of  your  neighbors  who  dc 
not  receive  often.  Neither  will  I  say  of  all  those  who  go  of  ter 
to  comniunion  that  they  are  exactly  what  they  ought  to  be. 

But  scarcely  any  one  will  affirm  that  persons  who  commu 
nicate  but  once  or  twice  a  year  are,  generally  speaking,  as 
exemplary  in  their  conduct  as  those  who  communicate  fre 
quently.  Point  out  to  me  those  whom  you  consider  the 
most  pious;  who  live  in  the  world  without  following  its 
•manners  or  adopting  its  principles ;  who,  when  adversity 
overtakes  them,  are  calm  and  resigned  to  the  will  of  God, 
and,  when  it  overtakes  their  neighbor,  are  ready  for  every 
act  of  charity ;  who  are  meek  and  kind,  rich  in  good  works 
and  fond  of  prayer ;  who  are  constant  in  their  attendance 
at  Mass,  diligent  in  seeking  spiritual  instruction,  faithful  in 
their  duties,  and  edifying  in  their  conversation — and  I  will 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  47£ 

snow  you  these  same  persons  regularly  at  the  altar  every 
month,  fortnight,  or  week  ;  yes,  even  oftener.  Grant  that, 
among  these  frequent  communicants,  there  is  but  one  who 
lives  a  truly  devout  life,  you  have  sufficient  evidence  of  the 
fruit  of  this  sacrament ;  for  you  know  that  no  one  can  live 
holily  without  the  grace  of  God,  and  that  this  sacrament 
was  instituted  to  impart  grace  to  us  in  an  abundant  measure. 
"I  am  come  that  they  may  have  life,  and  that  they  may 
have  it  more  abundantly."*  But,  after  all,  is  this  the 
proper  way  to  reason  ?  Do  not  ask  whether  others  are  good 
Christians,  but  whether  you  yourself  are.  You  know  a 
good  Christian  means  something  more  than  one  who  docs 
not  rob  or  commit  murder,  or  such  like  crimes.  A  good 
Christian  means  a  person  who  endeavors  to  keep  his  heart 
pure  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  to  overcome  pride,  envy,  ava 
rice,  unchasteness,  and  gluttony,  to  which  his  lower  nature 
is  so  prone.  Now,  do  you  find  wit-hin  you  no  sting  of  the 
flesh  ?  no  movements  of  hatred  or  desires  of  revenge  ?  no 
rebellion  of  pride  ?  Palladius  tells  the  story  of  a  young 
man  who,  after  endeavoring  for  a  long  time  to  corrupt  a 
virtuous  married  woman,  and  finding  her  chastity  proof 
against  all  his  assaults,  sought  to  revenge  himself  upon  her 
through  the  intervention  of  the  devil.  By  the  permission 
^f  God,  the  evil  one  caused  her  to  assume  the  appearance 
of  a  wild  beast,  and  her  husband,  greatly  distressed  at  so 
horrible  a  transformation,  took  her  to  St.  Macarius,  that  by 
his  prayers  and  blessing  she  might  be  delivered  from  the 
malice  of  the  devil.  The  saint  easily  effected  this  by  his 
power  with  God  ;  and  after  the  good  woman  was  restored  to 
her  natural  appearance,  he  gave  her  this  advice  :  "  In  future 
go  oftener  to  communion  than  you  have  hitherto  done  ;  for 
know  that  the  reason  why  God  permitted  you  to  appear  in 
such  a  form  is  your  negligence  in  not  having  received  com 
munion  for  five  successive  weeks.  So  it  has  been  revealed 

*Johnx.  10. 


476  THE  GREAT  BANQUET: 

to  me  from  on  high:  remember  it,  and  take  it  to  heart." 
Five  weeks  !  and  you  stay  away  for  five  months,  yea,  for  an 
entire  year,  and  find  no  necessity  for  receiving  oftener  ? 
And  do  you  think  the  devil  has  been  idle,  and  that  no  hide 
ous  transformation  has  taken  place  in  your  soul  in  the  eyes 
of  the  angels  ?  Has  not  your  soul  become  a  sow  in  impu 
rity  ?  or  a  tiger  in  rage  ?  or  a  viper  in  treachery  ?  or  a 
filthy  creeping  worm  in  its  low  and  grovelling  affections  ? 
I  leave  it  to  yourself  to  answer.  God  grant  that  it  may  not 
be  so.  I  know  that  it-  is  the  testimony  and  experience  of 
the  saints  that,  with  all  their  efforts  and  continual  use  of 
the  sacraments,  they  found  it  a  hard  thing  to  keep  their 
hearts  clean;  and  if  for  a  short  time  they  were  prevented 
from  receiving  the  Bread  of  Heaven,  their  hearts  became 
withered  and  dry,  and  they  exclaimed :  "I  am  smitten  as 
grass,  and  my  heart  is  withered,  because  I  forgot  to  eat  my 
Bread."*  I  also  know  that  Holy  Scripture  says:  "They 
that  go  far  from  Thee  shall  perish."  f 

And  now,  dear  reader,  I  think  you  have  come  to  the  same 
conclusion,  that  there  is  no  valid  excuse  for  not  communicat 
ing  frequently,  and  that,  for  the  most  part,  they  who  ex 
cuse  themselves  are  influenced  by  a  secret  unwillingness  to 
lead  a  Christian  life  in  good  earnest.  Their  desjres  are  low 
and  grovelling ;  they  have  more  relish  for  the  food  of  the 
body  than  for  the  food  of  the  soul.  With  the  Israelites  in 
the  desert,  they  prefer  the  good  things  of  Egypt  to  the 
manna  that  comes  from  heaven  ;  and  their  taste  is  so  cor 
rupted  by  the  impure  pleasures  of  the  world  that  they  can. 
find  no  delight  in  the  sweet  fountains  that  How  from  the 
Saviour's  side.  They  are  unwilling  to  practise  retirement., 
detachment  from  creatures,  and  self-denial.  They  stay 
away  from  communion  as  long  as  they  can,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  rebuke  of  Jesus  Christ  for  their  sensuality,  pride, 
vanity,  uncharitableness,  and  sloth.  Miserable  are  the  con- 

*  Pa.  c.  5.  t  Ps.  Ixrii.  2T 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  477 

sequences  of  such  a  course  of  conduct.  Not  being  able  to 
find  true  peace  of  heart  in  religion,  such  men  seek  their 
consolation  in  exterior  things,  and  multiply  faults  and  im 
perfections  in  proportion  as  they  withdraw  from  God.  And 
what  is  most  lamentable  is  that  not  unfrequently  their 
venial  sins  lead  them  into  mortal  sins,  and  that  they  live  in 
such  a  state  for  months,  remaining  in  constant  danger  of 
being  overtaken  by  a  sudden  and  unprovided  death,  the  just 
punishment  of  their  ingratitude  and  indifference  towards 
Jesus  Christ. 

I  have  said  "for  the  most  part"  for  I  know  there  are 
cases  in  which  reluctance  to  receive  this  sacrament  proceeds 
from  a  vain  fear  of  irreverence  inspired  by  the  teaching  of 
misguided  men.  St.  Vincent  of  Paul,  when  speaking  of 
this  subject,  used  to  relate  the  following  story  :  "A  noble 
and  pious  lady,  who  had  long  been  in  the  habit  of  commu 
nicating  several  times  a  week,  was  so  unhappy  as  to  choose 
for  her  confessor  a  priest  who  was  imbued  with  the  principles 
of  the  Jansenistic  heresy.  Her  new  director  at  first  allowed 
her  to  go  to  Holy  Communion  once  a  week ;  but,  after  a 
while,  he  would  not  permit  her  to  go  oftener  than  once  a 
fortnight,  and  at  last  he  limited  her  to  once  a  month.  The 
lady  went  on  in  this  way  for  eight  months,  when,  wishing 
to  know  the  state  of  her  soul,  she  made  a  careful  self-exami 
nation  ;  but,  alas  !  she  found  her  heart  so  full  of  irregular 
appetites,  passions,  and  imperfections,  that  she  was  actually 
afraid  of  herself.  Horror-struck  at  her  deterioration,  she  t 
exclaimed :  '  Miserable  creature  that  I  am  !  how  deeply 
have  I  fallen  !  How  wretchedly  am  I  living  !  Where  will 
all  this  end  ?  What  is  the  cause  of  this  lamentable  state  of 
mine  ?  I  see  !  I  see  !  It  is  for  no  other  reason  than  for 
my  having  followed  these  new  teachers,  and  for  having 
abandoned  the  practice  of  frequent  communion.'  Then, 
giving  thanks  to  God,  who  had  enlightened  her  to  see  her 
error,  she  renounced  her  false  guide  and  resumed  her  former 


478  THE  GREAT  BANQUET: 

practice.  Soon  after  she  was  enabled  to  get  the  better  of 
her  faults  and  passions,  and  to  regain  tranquillity  of  heart.'3 
Oh  !  how  effectually  do  such  men  perform  the  work  of  the 
devil.  The  great  adversary  of  mankind  has  nothing  so  much 
at  heart  as  to  keep  men  back  from  the  means  of  grace,  espe 
cially  the  Blessed  Eucharist.  In  his  warfare  against  the 
faithful,  he  acts  as  the  nations  bordering  upon  Abyssinia  are 
said  to  do  in  their  conflicts  with  the  inhabitants  of  that 
country.  The  Abyssinians  are  known  to  observe  a  strict 
fast  of  forty  days  at  a  certain  period  of  the  year,  and  it  i« 
the  cruel  custom  of  their  enemies  to  wait  until  they  are 
weakened  by  this  long  abstinence,  and  then  to  rash  upon 
them  and  gain  an  easy  victory.  Thus,  I  say,  it  is  with  the 
devil ;  a  forty  days'  fast  from  the  Blessed  Sacrament  is  a  rich 
conquest  for  him.  It  is  his  greatest  delight  to  keep  men 
away  from  the  altar.  Every  excuse  for  staying  away  from 
Holy  Communion  is  legitimate  in  his  eyes ;  every  doctrine 
which  teaches  that  it  is  useless  or  hurtful  to  frequent  the 
Holy  Eucharist  is  stamped  with  his  approval  ;  every  taunt 
with  which  a  tepid  Catholic  upbraids  his  more  fervent 
brother  for  nourishing  his  soul  often  with  the  Bread  of  Life 
is  music  in  his  ears.  And  he  is  in  the  right  ;  for  let  men  but 
once  be  persuaded  to  deprive  themselves  of  the  strengthen 
ing  Body  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  work  of  Satan  is  no 
longer  difficult.  When  the  soul  is  weak  in  grace,  by  reason 
of  long  abstinence  from  the  Flesh  of  Jesus  Christ,  then  the 
evil  one  comes  down  upon  it  with  his  strong  temptations, 
and,  almost  without  resistance,  makes  it  his  slave.  Once 
more,  those  who  discountenance  frequent  communion  do  the 
devil's  work.  They  give  hell  much  pleasure,  and  deprive 
our  Lord  of  great  delight.  It  is  on  this  account  that  our 
Lord  so  often  visits  with  severe  punishments  those  who  dis 
suade  others  from  receiving  Him.  A  woman  who  mocked 
St.  Catherine  of  Sienna  for  going  so  often  to  Holy  Commu 
nion,  on  her  return  home,  fell  down  to  the  ground  and  died 


HOLT  COMMUNION.  479 

instantly  without  being  able  to  receive  the  last  sacraments. 
Another  woman,  who  had  committed  the  same  offence,  be 
came  crazy  all  at  once.     Nay,  even  where  the  fault  was  much 
slighter,  God  has  shown  His  displeasure.    St.  Ludgardis  was 
in  the  habit  of  receiving  Holy  Communion  very  often,  but 
her  superioress,    disapproving,  forbade    her    doing  so   in 
future.     The  saint  obeyed,  but,  at  that  very  moment,  her 
superioress  fell  sick,    and  had  to   suffer  the   most  acute 
pains.     At  last,  suspecting  that  her  sickness  was  a  punish 
ment  for  having  interdicted  frequent  communion  to  Lud 
gardis,  she  withdrew  the  prohibition,  when,  lo  !  her  pains 
immediately  left  her,  and  she  began  to  feel  better.     Come, 
then,  0  Christian  !  to   the  heavenly  banquet  which  your 
divine  Saviour  has  prepared   for  you.     "  All   things   are 
ready."    Jesus   Christ  desires   to   unite   Himself   to  you. 
"Behold,"  He  says,    "I  stand  at   the  door  and  knock. 
Open  to  me,  my  sister,  my  beloved,  my  dove,  my  unde- 
filed;  for  my  head  is  full  of  dew,  and  my  locks  of  the 
drops  of  the  night."     He  has  waited  for  you  through  a 
long  night  of  sin,  and  now  that  He  has  restored  you  to  the 
state  of  grace  by  the  sacrament  of  penance,  He  wishes  to 
take  up  His  abode  in  your  heart,  and  to  enrich  you  with 
His  graces.     Let  no  temptation  whatever  keep  you  from  so 
great  a  good.     With  St.  Mary  Magdalen  of  Pazzi  say:  "I 
would  rather  die  than  omit  a   communion  permitted   by 
obedience."     As  often  as  your  director  advises  you,  go  for 
ward  to  receive  your  Lord  with  confidence  and  simplicity 
of  heart;  and  reply  to  those  who  blame  you  for  communi 
cating  so  often  as  St.  Francis  de  Sales  advises  you  to  do. 
"If,"  says  he,   "they  ask  you  why  you  communicate  so 
often,  tell  them  that  two  classes  of  persons  should  commu 
nicate  frequently  :  the  perfect  to  persevere  in  perfection, 
and  the  imperfect  to  attain  perfection ;  the  strong  not  to 
become  weak,  and  the  weak  to  grow  strong ;  the  sick  to  be 
c»red,  and  the  healthy  to  prevent  sickness.     And  as  to 


480  THE  ORE  AT  BANQUET: 

yourself,  tell  them  that,  because  you  are  imperfect,  weak, 
and  infirm,  you  stand  in  need  of  communion."*  Tell 
them  you  wish  to  become  patient,  and  therefore  you  must 
receive  your  patient  Saviour  ;  that  you  wish  to  become 
meek,  and  therefore  you  must  receive  your  meek  Saviour ; 
that  you  wish  to  love  contempt,  and  therefore  you  must 
receive  your  despised  Saviour ;  that  you  wish  to  love  crosses, 
and  therefore  you  must  receive  your  suffering  Saviour  ;  that 
you  wish  to  love  poverty,  and  therefore  you  must  receive 
your  poor  Saviour ;  that  you  wish  to  become  strong  against 
the  temptations  of  the  devil,  the  flesh,  and  the  world,  and 
therefore  you  stand  in  need  of  your  comforting  and  strength 
ening  Saviour.  Tell  them  He  has  said:  " He  that  eateth 
my  flesh  shall  live  by  me."  I  wish  to  live,  and  therefore  I 
receive  Jesus,  my  life,  "  that  He  may  live  in  me  and  I  in 
Him  ! "  He,  in  whose  words  you  put  your  trust,  will  jus 
tify  you  ;  your  soul  will  continually  grow  stronger  in  virtue ; 
your  heart  will  become  more  and  more  pure ;  your  passions 
will  become  weaker,  your  faith  more  lively,  your  hope  more 
firm,  your  charity  more  ardent ;  you  will  receive  grace  tc 
live  in  the  world  as  an  heir  of  heaven ;  and  when  at  youi 
last  hour  the  priest  comes  to  administer  the  Holy  Viaticum, 
you  will  be  able  to  say  with  a  great  saint : 

Food  of  the  hungry,  Pardon  of  sinners 

Rope  of  the  sad,  Contrite  become, 

Rest  of  the  weary,  Guide  to  all  wanderers 

Bliss  of  the  glad  ;  Seeking  their  home  ; 

Stay  of  the  helpless,  Pledge  of  salvation. 

Strength  of  the  weak,  Refuge  in  death, 

Life  of  the  lifeless,  Sacred  oblation, 

Joy  of  the  joyless,  Seal  of  our  faith  ; 

Crown  of  the  meek  ;  Peace  to  the  troubled, 

Nurture  of  angels,  Tempest-tossed  mind, 

Manna  from  heaven,  Balm  to  the  wounded, 

Comfort  of  mortals,  Eyes  to  the  blind  ; 

Quickening  leaven  ;  Hail !  Son  of  Mary, 

*  Introduction  to  a  Devout  Life,  c..  2L 


HOLY  COMMUNION.  481 

Sacrifice  pure  ;  With  Thee  in  light, 

Hail  !  I  adore  Thee,  Reigning  in  glory, 

Hail  !  I  implore  Thee,  Filled  with  Thy  mercy, 

Keep  me  secure  ;  I  shall  for  ever 

Bound  by  Thy  love,  In  Thine  own  sight 

Bound  till  in  heaven  Banquet  abov», 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

NECESSITY   OF   PRAYER. 

THERE  was  a  certain  man  who  for  years  had  been  trying 
-*-  to  lead  a  life  of  perfection.  Although  a  hard-working 
man,  and  obliged  to  rise  between  three  and  four  o'clock 
every  morning,  he  gave  a  good  deal  of  time  to  prayer.  He 
was  devout  to  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  said  his  beads  every 
day.  He  kept  the  fasts  of  the  Church  most  scrupulously, 
and  imposed  on  himself  the  penance  of  abstaining  from 
meat  every  Wednesday  and  Saturday.  He  went  to  Holy 
Communion  every  Sunday.  He  was  fully  impressed  with 
the  conviction  that  his  life  was  given  him  to  serve  God  and 
save  his  soul.  One  day  the  tempter  put  intoxicating  liquor 
in  the  way  of  this  man.  He  drank  and  drank  again,  and 
became  a  drunkard,  and  finally  ended  his  life  by  cutting 
his  throat  in  a  fit  of  drunken  madness.  Almost  saved, 
almost  at  the  door  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  almost  in 
possession  of  a  glorious  eternal  crown,  and  yet  all  lost  forever. 
All  his  fasts,  his  prayers,  his  communions,  his  labors,  his 
sufferings,  his  merits,  lost  for  ever  through  drunken  de 
spair.  Had  he  only  persevered  a  little  longer,  had  he  only 
struggled  on  a  little  more,  at  his  death  the  priest  would 
have  sung  the  Requiem  Mass  over  his  body  as  over  that  of  a 
Baint.  Now  no  holy  Mass  is  sung,  no  prayer  of  the  Church 
is  offered  up  for  him.  His  corpse  cannot  be  brought  to  the 
church  ;  it  cannot  be  buried  in  consecrated  ground.  It  is 
carried  by  frightened  relatives  past  the  closed  doors  of  the 
church,  and  cast  into  unhallowed  ground. 

This  melancholy  example  shows  us  how  necessary  it  is  to 
persevere  in  the  grace  of  God  till  death,  if  we  would  obtain 


NECESSITY  OF  PR  A  YER.  483 

eternal  life.  Our  divine  Saviour  taught  us  this  great  truth 
when  He  said :  "  He  that  shall  persevere  unto  the  end,  he 
shall  be  saved."*  St.  Paul  the  Apostle  tells  us  the  same 
truth  in  other  words  :  "  He  that  striveth  for  the  mastery  is 
not  crowned  except  he  strive  lawfully."  f  By  this  he  means 
that  no  one  shall  be  crowned  with  life  everlasting  unless  he 
fight  manfully  until  death  against  his  enemies,  the  devil, 
the  world,  and  his  own  corrupt  nature. 

Ever  since  the  fall  of  our  first  parents,  every  man,  the 
moment  he  arrives  at  the  use  of  reason,  engages  in  a  war 
fare  with  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil — three  powerful 
enemies,  who  are  actively  employed,  every  instant  of  our 
life,  in  laying  snares  for  the  destruction  of  our  souls. 

St.  Peter  says  that  "  the  devil  goeth  about  like  a  roaring 
lion,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour."  J  It  was  this  arch 
enemy  who  persuaded  Adam  and  Eve  to  eat  the  forbidden 
fruit ;  who  prevailed  on  Cain  to  slay  his  innocent  brother 
Abel ;  who  tempted  Saul  to  pierce  David  with  a  lance.  It 
was  he  who  stirred  up  the  Jews  to  deny  and  crucify  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord  ;  who  induced  Ananias  and  Saphira  to  lie 
to  the  Holy  Ghost ;  who  urged  Nero,  Decius,  Diocletian, 
Julian,  aiid  other  heathen  tyrants  to  put  the  Christians  to 
a  most  cruel  death.  He  it  was  who  inspired  the  authors  of 
heresies,  such  as  Arius,  Martin  Luther,  and  others,  to  reject 
the  authority  of  the  one,  true,  Catholic  Church. 

In  like  manner  the  devil,  at  the  present  day,  still  tempts 
all  men,  especially  the  just,  and  endeavors  to  make  them 
lose  the  grace  of  God.  He  tempts  numberless  souls  to  indif 
ference  towards  God  and  their  own  salvation ;  he  deceives 
many  by  representing  to  them  in  glowing  colors  the  false, 
degrading  pleasures  of  this  world ;  he  suggests  to  others  the 
desire  of  joining  bad  secret  societies;  he  tempts  many  even 
to  conceal  their  sins  in  confession,  and  to  receive  Holy 
Communion  unworthily;  others,  again,  he  urges  to  cheat 
*  Matt.  x.  30.  t  2  Tim.  ii.  5.  Jl  Peter  v.  8. 


484  NECESSITY  OF  PEA  TER. 

their  neighbor ;  he  allures  some  to  blind  their  reason  by 
excess  in  drinking  ;  some  he  tempts  to  despair ;  in  a  word, 
the  devil  leaves  nothing  untried  which  may  cause  the  just 
to  fall  into  sin.  He  finds  the  weak  point  of  every  man, 
and  knows  that  this  weak  point  is  for  many — very  maay — 
a  strong  inclination  to  the  vice  of  impurity.  The  wicked 
spirit  knows  how  to  excite  in  them  this  degrading  passion 
to  such  a  degree  that  they  forget  their  good  resolutions, 
nay,  even  make  little  account  of  the  eternal  truths,  and 
lose  all  fear  of  hell  and  the  divine  judgment.  It  is  the 
universal  opinion  of  all  theologians  that  there  are  more 
souls  condemned  to  hell  on  account  of  this  sin  alone  than 
on  account  of  any  other  which  men  commit. 

But  the  just  must  not  only  wage  war  against  their  arch 
enemy,  the  devil ;  they  must  also  fight  manfully  against  the 
seductive  examples  of  the  world.  Were  all  those  who  have 
lost  their  baptismal  innocence  to  tell  us  how  they  came  to 
lose  it,  they  would  all  answer  :  "  It  was  by  that  corrupt  com 
panion,  by  that  false  friend,  that  by  wicked  relative.  Had 
I  never  seen  that  person,  I  would  still  be  innocent."  One 
unsound  apple  is  sufficient  to  infect  all  the  others  near  it. 
In  like  manner  one  corrupt  person  can  ruin  all  those  with 
whom  he  associates.  Indeed,  the  bad  example  of  one  wicked 
man  can  do  more  harm  to  a  community  than  all  the  devils 
in  hell  united.  Small  indeed  is  the  number  of  those  who 
manfully  resist  bad  example. 

The  just  must  fight  not  only  against  the  devil  and  the 
world,  but  also  against  their  own  corrupt  nature.  Had  they 
not  this  enemy  to  contend  with,  the  devil  and  the  world 
would  not  so  easily  overcome  them.  Corrupt  nature  plays 
the  traitor,  and  very  often  gains  the  victory,  even  when  the 
other  enemies  have  failed.  This  dangerous  foe  is  always 
near,  within  their  very  hearts  ;  and  his  influence  is  the  more 
fatal  because  the  greater  number  of  the  just  themselves  do 
not  seem  to  be  fully  aware  of  his  existence  ;  hence  it  is  that 


NECESSITY  OF  PRAYER.  486 

they  are  so  little  on  their  guard  against  his  wiles,  and  fall  a 
prey  to  his  evil  suggestions. 

Ever  since  the  fall  of  our  first  parents  we  are  all  natu 
rally  inclined  to  evil.  Before  Adam  had  committed  sin,  he 
was  naturally  inclined  to  good ;  he  knew  nothing  of  indif 
ference  in  the  service  of  God,  nothing  of  anger,  hatred, 
cursing,  impurity,  vain  ambition,  and  the  like;  but  no 
sooner  had  he  committed  sin  than  God  permitted  his  incli 
nation  to  good  to  be  changed  into  an  inclination  to  evil. 
Man,  of  his  own  free-will,  forfeited  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  ;  he  exchanged  heaven  for  hell,  God  for  the  devil, 
good  for  evil,  the  state  of  grace  for  the  state  of  sin.  It  was, 
then,  but  just  and  right  that  he  should  not  only  acknow 
ledge  his  guilt,  repent  sincerely  of  his  great  crime,  but  that 
he  should  also,  as  long  as  he  lived,  fight  against  his  evil  in 
clinations,  and,  by  this  lifelong  warfare,  declare  himself 
sincerely  for  God. 

When  we  consider  seriously  the  continual  war  we  have  to 
wage  against  these  tihree  powerful  enemies ;  when  we  con 
sider  our  extreme  weakness  and  the  sad  fact  that  the  greater 
part  of  mankind  do  not  overcome  oven  one  of  their  enemies, 
we  see  clearly  how  terribly  true  are  the  words  of  our  Lord  : 
"  Wide  is  the  gate  and  broad  is  the  way  thatleadeth  to  de 
struction,  and  many  there  are  who  go  in  thereat.  How 
narrow  is  the  gate  and  strait  is  the  way  that  leadeth  to 
life;  and  few  there  are  that  find  it."*  All  !  who  shall  find 
tli is  strait  way  ?  Who  will  be  able  to  conquer  these  three 
enemies  of  our  salvation  ?  Whence  shall  we  obtain  strength 
and  courage  to  struggle  bravely  against  them  until  death  ? 
Truly  must  we  exclaim  with  King  Josaphat  :  "  As  for  us, 
we  have  not  strength  enough  to  be  able  to  resist  this  multi 
tude,  which  cometh  violently  upon  us.  But  as  we  know  not 
what  to  do,  we  can  only  turn  our  eyes  to  thee,  our  God." 

*  Matt.  vli.  14. 


486  NECESSITY  OF  PRA  TER. 

By  our  own  efforts  alone  we  shall  never  be  able  to  overcome 
even  one  of  our  enemies. 

This  great  truth  is  taught  by  St.  Paul.  In  his  Second 
Epistle  to  the  Corinthians  he  writes  thus:  "Not  that  we 
are  sufficient  to  think  anything  of  ourselves,  as  of  ourselves, 
but  our  sufficiency  is  from  God."*  The  apostle  means  to 
say  that  of  ourselves  we  are  not  even  able  to  think  of  any 
good  or  meritorious  thing.  Now,  if  we  are  not  able  to 
think  of  anything  good,  how  much  less  able  are  we  to  wish 
for  anything  good  !  "  It  is  God,"  he  writes  in  his  Epistle 
to  the  Philippians,  "  who  worketh  in  you,  both  to  will  and 
to  accomplish,  according  to  His  good  will."  f 

The  same  thing  had  been  declared  by  God  long  before 
through  the  mouth  of  the  Prophet  Ezechiel :  "  I  will  cause 
you  to  walk  in  my  commandments,  and  keep  my  judgments, 
and  do  them."  J 

Consequently,  according  to  the  teachings  of  St.  Leo, 
man  works  only  so  much  good  as  God,  in  His  grace,  enables 
him  to  do.  Hence,  it  is  an  article  of  our  holy  faith  that  no 
one  can  do  the  least  meritorious  work  without  God's  particu 
lar  assistance.  "Without  me  you  can  do  nothing,"  says 
Jesus  Christ. § 

God  has  surrounded  us  with  striking  proofs  of  our  weak 
ness  ;  He  has  permitted  the  most  illustrious  men  to  fall, 
that  we  might  live  in  fear.  The  first  man  and  woman, 
Adam  and  Eve ;  the  most  pious  of  kings,  David  ;  the  most 
renowned  of  sages,  Solomon  ;  the  Prince  of  the  Apostles 
and  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  St.  Peter,  all  fell. 

Among  the  great  falls  recorded  in  ecclesiastical  history 
stand  the  names  of  Tcrtullian  and  Origcn,  names  once  so 
honorable.  St.  Macarius  tells  us  IJ  that  a  certain  monk, 
after  having  been  favored  with  a  wonderful  rupture  and 
many  great  graces,  fell,  by  pride,  into  several  grievous  sins. 

*  Chap.  iii.  5.  *  Pkil.  ''•  13-  *  Ezech-  xxxvi>  27 

§  John  xv.  5.  0  Horn.  17. 


NECESSITY  OF  PR  A  YBR.  487 

A  certain  rich  nobleman  gave  his  estate  to  the  poor,  and  set 
his  slaves  at  liberty  ;  yet  afterwards  fell  into  pride  and 
many  enormous  sins.  Another,  who,  in  the  persecution,  had 
suffered  torments  with  great  constancy  for  the  faith,  after 
ward,  intoxicated  with  self-conceit,  gave  great  scandal  by  his 
disorders.  This  saint  mentions  one  who  had  formerly  lived 
a  long  time  with  him  in  the  desert,  prayed  often  with  him, 
and  was  favored  with  an  extraordinary  gift  of  compunction 
and  a  miraculous  power  of  curing  many  sick  persons,  was 
at  last  delighted  with  the  applause  of  men,  and  drawn  into 
the  sin  of  pride,  and  died  an  apostate. 

Now,  when  we  see  Adam  in  paradise,  in  a  state  of  inno 
cence,  sustained  by  great  grace,  endowed  with  an  excellent 
mind,  with  perfect  knowledge  of  natural  and  divine  things, 
at  the  mere  word  of  a  woman  whom  he  fears  t>  dis 
please,  offend  his  God  and  Creator,  from  whose  hands  he 
had  just  issued,  and  drag  down  the  whole  human  race  in 
his  fall,  what  ought  we,  the  children  of  such  a  father,  corrupt 
ed  as  we  are  by  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil,  to  fear  ? 

When  we  see  David,  the  man  according  to  God's  own 
heart,  fall  at  a  single  thoughtless  glance  at  a  woman  into 
the  commission  of  two  enormous  sins,  in  which  he  remained 
for  a  whole  year  without  realizing  their  heinousness  ;  when 
we  think  of  St.  Peter,  "he  Prince  of  the  Apostles,  after  hav 
ing  promised  so  solemnly  rather  to  die  than  abandon  his 
Lord,  abandoning  and  denying  Him  thrice,  with  oaths  and 
imprecations,  at  the  simple  word  of  a  mean  servant;  when 
we  see  how  Tertullian,  Origen,  Osius,  the  great  Bishop  of 
Cordova,  and  other  pillars  of  the  Church  were  vanquished 
and  overcome,  though  they  seemed  immovably  lixed  in 
faith  and  all  virtues — with  such  striking  examples  before  us 
of  deplorable  weakness  among  the  greatest  and  best,  what 
are  we  to  think  of  our  own  weakness  in  face  of  the  very  same 
enemies  who  overcame  them,  unless  we  are  sustained  by 
that  all-powerful  aid  which  can  come  from  God  alone  ? 


488  NECESSITY  OF  PRAYER. 

Now,  the  Lord  of  mercy  gives  this  strength  to  all  who  ask 
for  it.  To  those  who  pray  the  Lord  has  promised  to  give 
not  only  one,  two,  or  a  hundred,  or  a  thousand  graces,  but 
all  the  lights  and  graces,  without  a  single  exception,  which 
are  necessary  to  bring  us  and  to  lead  us  up  to  eternal 
glory.  "All  things  whatsoever  you  ask  when  you  pray, 
believe  that  you  shall  receive,  and  they  shall  come  unto  you."* 
The  Son  of  God  was  not  content  with  saying,  "All things" 
or  "  whatsoever";  but,  to  exclude  the  possibility  of  a  single 
grace  being  excepted,  He  said  :  "  All  things  whatsoever  you 
ask  when  you  pray  .  .  .  shall  come  unto  you." 

And  lest  any  one  should  suppose  that  this  promise  applied 
only  to  the  just,  He  has  added  :  "  Every  one  who  asks 
shall  receive  "  f  Every  one,  without  exception,  whether  he 
be  a  just  man  or  a  sinner,  shall  receive  what  he  asks ;  but 
ask  he  must. 

Prayer,  therefore,  is  a  universal  means  by  which  every 
single  grace  necessary  to  lead  us  to  eternal  life  may  be  ob 
tained  with  infallible  certainty,  since  the  Son  of  God  has  so 
promised.  In  this  respect  prayer  differs  from  the  sacra 
ments,  from  penitential  works,  and  the  other  means  which 
God  has  given  us  to  obtain  eternal  life.  These  are  particu 
lar  means,  each  producing  or  procuring  particular  graces. 
But  to  none  of  these,  nor  to  all  of  them  put  together,  with 
out  prayer,  has  God  promised  all  the  graces  necessary  for 
eternal  life.  Prayer  is  the  only  means  to  which  He  has 
promised  all  the  efficacious  helps  and  graces  necessary  for 
our  salvation.  It  is  a  means  given  to  all,  without  excep 
tion  ;  for  God  gives  the  grace  of  prayer  to  the  most  hard 
ened  sinners  as  well  as  to  the  most  holy  of  the  just ;  and 
He  has  given  it  to  every  adult  that  ever  lived,  from  the 
time  of  Adam  to  the  present  day.  By  making  a  good  use 
of  this  grace  of  prayer  the  worst  sinner  may  obtain,  as  in 
fallibly  as  the  greatest  saint,  every  efficacious  grace  neces- 
*  Mark  xl.  24.  t  Matt.  vii.  7. 


NECESSITY  OF  PRAYER.  489 

sary  for  his  salvation,  and  may  thus  secure  everlasting 
glory. 

Prayer  is  that  powerful  aid  which  God  has  given  to  every 
one  to  preserve  His  grace  and  friendship.  "  God,  in  the  nat 
ural  order,"  says  St.  Alphonsus,  "  has  ordained  that  man 
should  be  born  naked  and  in  want  of  many  of  the  necessa. 
ries  of  life  ;  but  as  He  has  given  him  hands  and  understand 
ing  to  provide  for  all  his  wants,  so  also  in  the  supernatural 
order  man  is  born  incapable  of  remaining  good  and  obtain 
ing  salvation  by  his  own  strength  ;  but  God,  in  His  infinite 
goodness,  grants  to  every  one  the  grace  of  prayer,  and  wishes 
that  all  should  make  constant  use  of  this  grace,  in  order 
thereby  to  obtain  all  other  necessary  graces." 

Even  though  it  should  seem  that  all  is  lost,  that  we 
cannot  overcome  the  temptations  of  the  devil,  that  we  can 
not  avoid  the  bad  example  of  the  world,  that  we  cannot  re 
sist  the  revolts  of  corrupt  nature,  let  us  remember  that,  as 
St.  Paul  assures  us,  God  is  faithful,  and  will  never  suffer  us 
to  be  tempted  beyond  our  strength,  but  will  make  issue, 
also,  with  the  temptation,  that  we  may  be  able  to  bear  it.* 
But  we  must  also  remember  that  God  will  give  us  strength 
in  the  hour  of  temptation,  only  on  condition  that  we  pray 
for  it ;  that  we  pray  for  it  earnestly,  pcrseveringly.  "  God," 
says  St.  Augustine,  "  does  not  command  what  is  impossible; 
if  He  commands  you  to  do  something,  He  admonishes  you 
at  the  same  time  to  do  what  you  can,  and  to  ask  Him  for 
His  assistance  whenever  anything  is  above  your  strength, 
and  He  promises  to  assist  you  to  do  that  which  otherwise 
would  naturally  be  impossible  for  you  to  do." 

God  does  not  give  to  the  saints  even  grace  to  fulfil  dif 
ficult  precepts  or  duties,  unless  they  pray  for  it.  God,  with 
out  our  asking  it,  gives  us  all  grace  to  do  what  is  easy,  but 
not  what  is  difficult.  The  saints  are  only  promised  grace  to 

*  Oor.  x- 18. 


400  NECESSITY  OF  PR  A  TER. 

pray  for  strength  to  do  what  is  difficult,  and  to  overcome 
violent  temptations. 

Father  Segneri  relates  that  a  young  man  named  Paccus 
retired  into  a  wilderness  in  order  to  do  penance  for  his  sins. 
Af  ter  some  years  of  penance  he  was  so  violently  assaulted  by 
temptations  that  he  though  it  impossible  to  resist  them  any 
longer.  As  he  was  often  overcome  by  them,  he  began  to 
despair  of  his  salvation  ;  he  even  thought  of  taking  ava  • 
his  life.  He  said  to  himself  that  if  he  must  go  to  hell,  it 
were  better  to  go  instantly  than  to  live  on  thus  in  sin,  and 
thereby  only  increase  his  torments.  One  day  he  took  a  poi 
sonous  viper  in  his  hand,  and  in  every  possible  manner  urged 
it  to  bite  him  ;  but  the  reptile  did  not  hurt  him  in  the  least. 
"  0  God  !  "  cried  Paccus,  "  there  are  so  many  who  do  not 
wish  to  die,  and  I,  who  wish  so  much  for  death,  cannot  die." 
At  this  moment  he  heard  a  voice  saying  to  him  :  "  Poor 
wretch  I  do  you  suppose  you  can  overcome  temptations  by 
your  own  strength  ?  Pray  to  God  for  assistance,  and  He 
will  help  you  to  overcome  them."  Encouraged  by  these 
words,  he  began  to  pray  most  fervently,  and  soon  lost  all 
his  fear.  He  ever  after  led  a  very  edifying  life.  "  For  him, 
then,"  says  St.  Isidore,  "  who  is  assailed  with  temptation, 
there  is  no  other  remedy  left  than  prayer,  to  which  he  must 
have  recourse  as  often  as  he  is  tempted.  Frequent  recourse 
to  prayer  subdues  all  temptation  to  sin."  * 

After  St.  Theodore  had  been  cruelly  tortured  in  many  dif 
ferent  ways,  he  was  at  last  commanded  by  the  tyrant  to 
stand  on  red-hot  tiles.  Finding  this  kind  of  torture  almost 
too  great  to  endure,  he  prayed  to  the  Lord  to  alleviate  his 
sufferings,  and  the  Lord  granted  him  courage  and  fortitude 
to  endure  these  torments  until  death,  f  St.  Perpetua  was 
a  lady  of  noble  family,  brought  up  in  the  greatest  luxury, 
and  married  to  a  man  of  high  rank.  She  had  everything  to 

*  Lib.  III.  de  Summo  Bono,  chap.  viii. 

f  Triumph*  of  the  Martyrs.    By  St.  Alphonsus. 


OF  P /; .•;  YUR.  491 

make  her  cling  to  this  world;  for  she  had  not -only  her  hus 
band,  but  also  a  father,  a  mother,  and  two  brothers,  of  whom 
she  was  very  fond,  and  a  little  babe  whom  she  was  nursing. 
She  was  only  twenty-two  years  of  age,  and  was  of  an  affec 
tionate  and  timid  disposition,  so  that  she  did  not  seem  nat 
urally  well  fitted  to  endure  martyrdom  with  courage,  or  to 
bear  the  separation  from  her  babe  and  her  aged  parents, 
whom  she  loved  so  much.  Although  Pcrpetua  loved  Jesus, 
yet  she  could  not  help  trembling  at  the  thought  of  the  tor 
tures  which  she  would  have  to  suffer.  When  she  was  first 
thrown  into  prison,  she  was  very  much  frightened  at  the 
darkness  of  the  dungeon  ;  she  was  half-suffocated  with  the 
heat  and  bad  air,  and  she  was  shocked  at  the  rudeness  of 
the  soldiers,  who  pushed  her  and  the  other  prisoners  about; 
for  she  had  always  lived  in  a  splendid  palace,  surrounded 
with  every  luxury,  and  had  been  accustomed  from  her  child 
hood  to  be  treated  with  respect.  If,  then,  she  shrank  from 
these  little  trials,  what  should  she  do  when  she  was'  put  to 
the  torture,  or  when  she  had  to  face  wild  beasts  in  the  am 
phitheatre  ?  She  was  conscious  of  her  own  weakness,  and  at 
first  trembled;  but  she  knew  that  the  heroic  virtue  of  the 
martyrs  did  not  depend  on  natural  courage  und  strength  ; 
she  knew  that  if  she  prayed  to  Jesus,  He  would  give  her 
strength  to  bear  everything,  so  that  the  grace  of  God  would 
shine  out  most  brightly  in  the  midst  of  her  natural  weak 
ness.  A  few  days  after  she  was  put  in  prison  she  was  bap 
tized  ;  and  as  she  came  out  of  the  water,  the  Holy  Ghost 
inspired  her  to  ask  for  patience  in  all  the  bodily  sufferings 
which  she  might  be  called  on  to  endure  ;  so  she  began  to 
pray  very  fervently,  and  from  that  time  she  became  so  calm 
and  so  joyful  that  in  spite  of  all  her  sufferings  she  was  able 
to  cheer  and  comfort  her  fellow-sufferers. 

It  was  by  prayer  that  the  saints  were  enabled  to  overcome 
all  their  temptations,  and  to  suffer  patiently  all  their  crosses 
and  persecutions  until  death ;  the  more  they  suffered,  the 


492  NECESSITY  OF  PR  A  YER. 

more  they  prayed,  and  the  Loid  came  to  their  assistance. 
"  He  shall  cry  to  me,"  says  the  Lord,  "  and  I  will  hear  him ; 
I  am  with  him  in  tribulation,  I  will  deliver  him,  and  will 
glorify  him."* 

This  truth  we  learn  especially  from  the  angel  who  de 
scended  with  the  three  children  into  the  fiery  furnace. 
"  The  angel  of  the  Lord  went  down  with  Azarius  and  his 
'companions  into  the  furnace,  "f  The  angel  of  the  Lord 
had  descended  into  the  flames  before  them,  otherwise  they 
would  have  been  immediately  consumed ;  but  they  did  not 
see  him  until  they  prayed  to  God.  After  having  prayed, 
they  saw  how  the  angel  of  the  Lord  drove  the  flame  of  the 
fire  out  of  the  furnace,  and  made  the  midst  of  the  furnace 
like  the  blowing  of  a  wind  bringing  dew.  "  Thus  the  an 
gel  of  the  Lord,"  says  Cornelius  a  Lapide,  "  gives  to  under 
stand  that  in  persecutions  and  tribulations  prayer  is  the 
only  means  of  salvation.  Those  who  pray  are  always  victo 
rious  ;  those  who  neglect  to  pray  give  way  to  temptations, 
and  are  lost." 

"  I  have  known  many,"  says  St.  Cyprian,  "  and  have 
shed  tears  over  them,  who  seemed  to  possess  great  courage 
and  fortitude  of  soul,  and  yet,  when  on  the  point  of  re 
ceiving  the  crown  of  life  everlasting,  they  fell  away  and  be 
came  apostates.  Now,  what  was  the  cause  of  this  ?  They 
turned  away  their  eyes  from  Him  who  alone  is  able  to  give 
strength  to  the  weak.  They  had  given,  up  prayer,  and 
commenced  to  look  for  aid  and  protection  from  man. 
They  considered  their  own  natural  weakness  ;  they  looked 
at  the  red-hot  gridirons,  and  at  all  the  other  frightful 
instruments  of  torture;  they  compared  the  acuteness  of 
the  pain  with  their  own  strength ;  but  as  soon  as  one 
thinks  within  himself,  I  can  suffer  this,  but  not  that,  his 
martyrdom  will  never  be  crowned  with  a  glorious  end. 
It  was  thus  that  they  lost  the  victory.  He  alone  who 

*Ps.  xc.  15.  t  Don.  iii.  40. 


NECESSITY  OF  PRA  TEH.  493 

abandons  himself  entirely  to  the  divine  will,  and  who  looks 
for  help  from  God  alone,  will  remain  firm  and  immovable, 
and  persevere  to  the  end.  But  this  can  be  expected  only 
from  him  who  is  gifted  with  a  lively  faith,  and  who  does 
not  tremble,  or  consider  how  great  is  the  tyrant's  cruelty, 
or  how  weak  is  human  nature,  but  who  considers  only  the 
power  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  fights  and  conquers  in 
His  members.  No  one  should  lose  courage  when  he  has  to 
endure  some  great  bodily  or  spiritual  affliction.  Let  him 
trust  in  the  Lord,  whose  battles  he  fights.  He  will  not  per- 
mit  any  one  '  to  be  tempted  beyond  his  strength,  but  will 
grant  a  happy  issue  to  all  his  sufferings.' " 

" Christians,  then,"  says  Cornelius  a  Lapide,  "cannot 
make  a  better  use  of  their  leisure  time  than  to  spend  it  in 
prayer."  The  saints  knew  well  that  prayer  was  the  power 
ful  means  to  escape  the  snares  of  the  devil,  and  therefore 
they  loved  and  practised  nothing  so  much  as  this  holy  exer 
cise. 

King  David  often  prayed  to  the  Lord:  "Lord,  look  upon 
me,  and  have  me-rcy  on  me;  for  I  am  alone  and  poor."* 
"  I  cried  with  all  my  whole  heart  :  Hear  me,  0  Lord ;  let 
thy  hand  be  with  me  to  save  me. "  \  He  assures  us  that  he 
prayed  without  ceasing.  "My  eyes,"  said  he,  "are  ever 
towards  the  Lord  ;  for  He  shall  pluck  my  feet  out  of  the 
snare. "J  "Daniel,"  says  St.  John  Chrysostom,  "pre 
ferred  to  die  rather  than  to  give  up  prayer."  St.  Philip 
Neri,  being  one  day  commanded  to  pray  a  little  less  than 
usual,  said  to  one  of  his  fathers  :  "  I  begin  to  feel  like  a 
brute."  Blessed  Leonard  of  Port-Maurice  used  to  say  a 
Christian  should  not  let  a  moment  pass  by  without  saying, 
"  My  Jesus,  have  mercy  on  me  ! "  "  As  a  city  fortified  by 
strong  walls,"  says  St.  John  Chrysostom,  "cannot  be  easily 
taken,  so  also  a  soul  fortified  by  prayer  cannot  be  overcome 
by  the  devil.  The  devil  is  afraid  of  approaching  a  soul  that 

*  Ps.  xxiv.  16  f  Ps.  cxviii.  *  Pa. 


4&4  NECESSITY  OF  PR  A  YER. 

prays  ;  he  fears  the  courage  and  strength  that  she  obtains 
in  prayer;  prayer  gives  more  strength  to  the  soul  than  fcod 
does  to  the  body.  The  more  the  soul  practises  prayer,  the 
more  will  she  be  nourished  and  strengthened ;  and  the  Tess 
she  practises  prayer,  the  more  keenly  will  she  feel  her  own 
natural  weakness.  As  plants  cannot  remain  fresh  and  green 
without  moisture,  air,  and  light,  so  the  soul  cannot  preserve 
the  grace  of  God  without  prayer." 

A  plant  usually  prospers  only  in  its  native  clime.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  soul.  The  true  home  of  the  soul  is  God  ; 
transplant  it,  and  it  will  not  live.  Now,  prayer  is  the  meaM 
by  which  the  soul  is  preserved  in  this  its  true  home.  Prayer 
keeps  the  soul  united  to  God,  and  God  to  the  soul,  and  thus 
it  lives  a  perfect  life.  This  is  most  emphatically  expressed 
by  St.  John  Chrysostom.  "  Every  one,"  he  says,  "  who  does 
not  pray,  and  who  does  not  wish  to  keep  in  continual  commu 
nion  with  God,  is  dead  ;  he  has  lost  his  life,  nay,  he  has  even 
lost  his  reason.  He  must  be  insane,  for  he  does  not  under 
stand  what  a  great  honor  it  is  to  pray  ;  and  he  is  not  con 
vinced  of  the  important  truth  that  not  to  pray  is  to  bring 
death  upon  his  soul,  as  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  lead  a 
virtuous  life  without  the  aid  of  prayer.  For  how  can  he  be 
able  to  practise  virtue  without  throwing  himself  unceas 
ingly  at  the  feet  of  Him  from  whom  alone  comes  all 
strength  and  courage  ?  "  * 

"Which  of  the  just,"  asks  this  great  saint,  "did  ever 
tight  valiantly  without  prayer  ?  Which  of  them  ever  con 
quered  without  prayer  ? "  f  Neither  any  of  the  apostles, 
nor  any  of  the  martyrs,  nor  any  of  the  confessors,  nor  any 
of  the  holy  virgins  and  widows,  nor  any  of  the  just  in 
heaven  or  on  earth.  Hence  all  theologians  teach  that  prayer 
is  as  necessary  for  the  salvation  of  adults  as  baptism  is  for 
that  of  infants.  As  no  infant  can  enter  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  without  baptism,  so  no  adult  shall  obtain  eternal 
*  Lib.  de  Orando  Deum.  t  Sermo  de  Mo»e. 


NECESSITY  OF  PR  A  YES.  '  ±*>£ 

life  without  asking  of  God  the  graces  necessary  for  salvation. 
Because  of  this  strict  and  indispensable  necessity  of  asking 
God's  graces,  St.  Alplionsus  tells  us  that  he  made  it  a  rule  of 
his  order  that  in  every  mission  conducted  by  the  Redemp- 
torist  Fathers  there  should  be  a  sermon  on  prayer.     He  says 
that  every  preacher  should,  in  almost  all  his  sermons,  ex 
hort  his  hearers  to  the  practice  of  prayer,  and  should  ad 
monish  them  never  to  cease  to  call  for  aid  in  all  their  temp 
tations,  at  least  by  invoking  the  holy  names  of  Jesus  and 
Mary  as  long  as  the  temptation  continues.    He  cautions  every 
confessor  not  to  be  content  with  endeavoring  to  excite  his 
penitents  to  sorrow  for  their  sins  and  to  a  firm  purpose  of 
amendment ;  but  to  be  careful  also  to  impress  upon  them 
the  necessity  of  praying  for  grace  to  be  faithful  to  their  reso 
lutions,  and  of  asking  the  divine  aid  as  often  as  they  are 
tempted  to  offend  God.     He  concludes  his  book  on  prayer 
in  the  following  words  :   "I  say,  and  I  repeat,  and  I  shall 
repeat  while  I  live,  that  our  salvation  depends  altogether  on 
prayer,  and  that  on  that  account  all  writers  in  their  books, 
all  preachers  in   their  sermons,  and  all  confessors  in  the 
tribunal  of  penance  should  continually  exclaim  and  repeat : 
'  Pray,  pray,  and  never  cease  to  pray  ;  for  if  you  continue 
to  pray  your  salvation  is  secure ;  if  you  give  up  prayer,  your 
perdition  is  inevitable.' " 

We  must  pray  for  all  the  graces  of  which  we  stand  in 
need,  but  we  must  be  careful  to  pray  for  three  graces  in 
particular :  First,  for  the  pardon  of  all  our  past  sins  ;  secondly, 
for  the  gift  of  the  love  of  God  ;  and,  thirdly,  for  the  gift  of 
final  perseverance,  and  for  the  grace  to  persevere  till  death 
in  praying  for  this  great  gift.  We  should  ask  these  three 
graces  not  only  in  our  meditations,  but  also  at  Mass,  after 
communion,  and  in  all  our  spiritual  exercises.  We  ought 
first  to  pray  for  the  pardon  of  all  our  past  sins ;  because  we 
do  not  know,  and  shall  not  know  till  death,  whether  they 
have  been  pardoned  or  not.  The  Scripture  tells  us  that  we 


496  NECESSITY  OP  PR  A  YER. 

know  not  whether  we  are  worthy  of  love  or  hatred.*    And 
though  God  had  revealed  to  us  that  our  sius  were  forgiven, 
we  should  still  continue  till  death  to  beg  of  Him  "to  wash 
us  still  more  from  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse  us  from  our 
iniquities  "  ;  for,  after  the  guilt  of  sin  has  been  remitted, 
the  temporal  punishment  due  to  it  frequently  and  generally 
remains.      Among  the  temporal   punishments  clue  to  sin 
after  the  remission  of  its  guilt,  the  saints  count  the  with 
holding  of  many  of  God's  graces.     From  eternity  God  pre 
pared  for  us  all  abundant  graces  to  work  out  our  salvation. 
Some  of  these  graces  were  necessary  to  lead  us  to  a  high 
degree  of  perfection,  and  to  make  us  saints ;  others  were  so 
necessary  for  our  salvation   that  without  them  we  should 
not  be  saved.     In  punishment  of  sin,  even  after  its  guilt 
has  been  remitted,   God  sometimes  withholds  both  these 
classes  of  graces  ;  and,  therefore,  our  past  sins,  after  they 
have  been  forgiven,  may  be  the  cause  of  our  damnation  by 
preventing  God  from   bestowing   upon  us   certain   graces 
without  which  we  shall  be  certainly  lost,     Hence  the  Holy 
Ghost  tells  us  not  to  be  without  fear  about  sin  forgiven. 
"  De  propitiato  peccato  noli  esse  sine  timore."  \     In  order, 
then,  to  secure  not  only  the  pardon  of  all  our  past  sins,  but 
also  the  graces  which  may  be  withheld  in  punishment  of 
them,  and  particularly  the  graces  without  which  we  should  be 
lost,  we  must  pray  frequently  and  fervently  in  our  medita 
tions  for  the  complete  and  entire  remission  of  all  our  sins, 
and  of  all  the  penalties  due  to  them.     By  frequent  and  fer 
vent  petitions  for  these  objects,  every  one,  even  the  most 
abandoned  sinner,  however  enormous  his  crimes  may  have 
been,   can  easily  and  infallibly  avert  the  chastisement  of 
sin,  which  consists  in  the  withholding  of  God's  graces,  and 
may  thus  infallibly  prevent  the  danger  of   his   past  sins 
being  the  cause  of  his  damnation  after  their  guilt  had  been 
remitted. 

*  EcclesL  ix.  1.  tEcclui.  v.  6. 


NECESSITY  OF  PRATER.  497 

Secondly,  we  must  ask  with  fervor  the  gift  of  God's  love. 
St.  Francis  de  Sales  says  that  the  gift  of  divine  love  should 
be  the  object  of  all  our  prayers,  because  it  brings  with  it  all 
the  other  good  gifts  of  God.  Love  is  the  golden  chain  by 
which  the  soul  is  united  and  bound  to  her  God.  "  Charity," 
says  St.  Paul,  "is  the  bond  of  perfection."  Every  act  of 
love  is  a  treasure  which  secures  to  us  the  friendship  of  God. 
"  I  love  them  that  love  me."  *  "  He  that  loveth  me  shall 
be  loved  by  my  Father."  f  "  Charity  covereth  a  multitude 
of  sins."t  St.  Thomas  teaches  that  every  act  of  love 
merits  a  degree  of  eternal  glory.  Acts  of  love  may  be  made, 
first,  in  the  following  manner :  "My  God,  I  love  Thee  with 
my  heart.  I  desire  to  see  Thee  loved  by  all  men  as  much  as 
Thou  deservest  to  be  loved.  I  desire  to  love  Thee  as  much  as 
the  angels  love  Thee  in  heaven,  and  as  much  as  Thou  wishest 
me  to  love  Thee.  I  offer  all  I  am  and  have  to  Thy  love  and 
glory  for  time  and  eternity ;  and  I  ask  Thee,  0  my  God  !  to 
help  me  to  love  Thee.  I  ask  Thee  to  take  away  from  my 
heart  the  love  of  myself  and  the  love  of  the  world,  and  to 
fill  my  soul  with  Thy  pure  and  holy  love,  that  I  may  seek 
nothing  but  Thy  love  and  glory  and  my  own  salvation." 
Secondly,  acts  of  love  may  be  made  by  resigning  ourselves 
in  all  things  to  the  divine  will,  saying:  "Lord,  make 
known  to  me  what  is  pleasing  to  Thee ;  I  am  ready  to  do  it, 
whatever  it  may  be."  Thirdly,  by  offering  ourselves  to 
God  without  reserve,  saying  :  "  0  my  God  !  do  what  Thou 
pleasest  with  me,  and  with  all  that  belongs  to  me."  Such 
offerings  of  ourselves  to  God  are  acts  of  love,  very  pleasing 
in  His  eyes  ;  hence,  St.  Teresa  used  to  offer  herself  to  Him 
fifty  times  in  the  day.  To  rejoice  in  the  infinite  happiness 
of  God  is  also  a  most  perfect  act  of  love.  In  begging  the 
grace  of  God's  love  we  ought  to  ask  the  gift  of  perfect 
resignation  and  conformity  to  the  divine  will  in  all  things, 
particularly  in  all  crosses  and  afflictions.  Thirdly,  we 
*  PTOT.  viil.  17.  t  John  xiv.  2L  1 1  Peter  iv.  8. 


498  NECESSITY  OF  PRATER. 

must,  above  all,  pray  with  great  fervor  in  our  meditations 
for  the  grace  of  final  perseverance.  This  is,  according  to 
Blessed  Leonard,  the  grace  of  graces ;  this  is  the  grace  on 
which  our  salvation  depends.  If  God  gives  it  to  us,  we 
shall  be  saved  ;  if  not,  we  shall  be  lost.  This  is  the  gift 
which  distinguishes  the  elect  in  heaven  from  the  reprobate 
in  hell ;  if  the  elect  had  not  got  it,  they  should  be  lost ; 
and  if  the  damned  had  received  it,  they  should  now  be  in 
glory.  It  crowns  all  the  other  gifts  of  God  ;  without  it 
they  shall  be  a  source  of  greater  damnation.  This  gift  God 
gives  to  infants  without  any  co-operation  on  their  part,  by 
taking  them  out  of  life  before  they  lose  their  baptismal 
innocence.  But  St.  Augustine  teaches  that  God  never 
gives  it  to  any  adult  that  does  not  pray  for  it.  The  grace 
of  final  perseverance  is  a  special  gift,  which  we  cannot 
merit,  as  the  Council  of  Trent  teaches  in  these  words  : 
"  Aliunde  haberi  non  potest,  nisi  ab  eo  qui  potens  est,  eum 
qui  stat,  statuere  ut  perseverantur  stet."  *  We  cannot 
merit  it  by  the  sacraments,  nor  by  penitential  austeri 
ties,  nor  by  alms-deeds.  God  has  given  us  only 
one  means  of  infallibly  obtaining  it,  and  that  is  by 
praying  for  it  continually  till  our  last  breath.  It 
is  not  enough  to  ask  this  gift  once,  nor  twice,  nor  for 
a  year,  nor  for  ten  years  ;  our  petitions  for  it  must  cease  only 
with  our  life,  and  must  be  frequently  offered  in  meditation, 
which  is  the  fittest  time  for  asking  God's  graces.  Whoever  asks 
it  to-day  obtains  it  for  to-day  ;  but  he  who  does  not  pray 
for  it  till  to-morrow  may  fall  on  to-morrow,  and  be  lost. 
In  the  preface  to  his  book  on  the  victories  of  the  martyrs, 
St.  Liguori  says  that  in  the  History  of  the  Martyrs  of 
Japan  it  is  related  that  an  old  man,  condemned  to  a  slow 
and  painful  death,  remained  for  a  long  time  firm  under  his 
torments,  but  when  he  was  on  the  point  of  breathing  his 
iast  he  ceased  to  recommend  himself  to  God,  denied  the 
*  Sess.  6,  c.  xiii. 


NECESSITY  OF  PRA  TER.  499 

faith,  and  instantly  expired.  Hence,  in  his  treatise  on 
prayer,  the  holy  author  says  that  "  to  obtain  perseverance, 
we  must  recommend  ourselves  continually  to  God,  morning 
and  evening,  in  our  meditations,  at  Mass,  communion,  and 
all  times,  but  particularly  in  the  time  of  temptations,  say 
ing,  and  repeating  continually :  Assist  me,  0  Lord  !  assist 
me  ;  keep  Thy  hand  upon  me ;  do  not  abandon  me  ;  have 
mercy  on  me. "  In  order,  then,  to  secure  the  grace  of  final 
perseverance,  we  must  not  cease  till  death  to  pray  con 
tinually  for  it.  And  in  order  to  persevere  to  the  end  in  pray 
ing  for  this  great  gift,  we  must  unceasingly  ask  of  God  the 
grace  that  we  may  continue  till  our  last  breath  to  implore 
it  of  Him. 

"If,"  says  St.  Liguori  in  his  book  on  prayer,  "  we  wish 
not  to  be  forsaken  by  God,  we  must  never  cease  to  pray  that 
He  may  not  abandon  us.  If  we  continually  beg  His  aid,  He 
will  most  certainly  assist  us  always,  and  will  never  permit 
us  to  lose  Him  or  to  be  separated  from  His  love.  And  to  se 
cure  this  constant  aid  and  protection  from  heaven,  let  us  be 
careful  to  ask  without  ceasing,  not  only  the  gift  of  final  per 
severance  and  the  graces  necessary  to  obtain  it,  but  also  to 
beg,  by  anticipation,  of  the  Lord  that  great  gift  which  He 
promised  to  His  elect  by  the  mouth  of  the  prophet — the 
grace  to  persevere  in  prayer  :  l  And  I  will  pour  out  upon 
the  house  of  David  and  upon  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem 
the  spirit  of  grace  and  prayer.'  *  Oh  !  how  great  a  gift  ia 
the  spirit  of  prayer  or  the  grace  to  pray  always  !  Let  us, 
then,  never  cease  to  ask  from  God  this  grace  and  spirit  of 
continual  prayer.  If  we  persevere  to  the  end  in  prayer,  wa 
shall  certainly  obtain  the  gift  of  perseverance  and  every 
grace  we  stand  in  need  of  ;  for  God  cannot  violate  his  pro 
mise  to  hear  all  who  may  invoke  His  aid."  This  grace  and 
gift  of  perseverance  in  prayer  is  most  necessary  for  all  Chris 
tians,  but  particularly  for  those  who  are  exposed  to  great 

*  Zach.  xii.  10. 


500  NECESSITY  OF  PR  A  TER. 

dangers,  and  who  are  at  the  same  time  bound  by  difficult 
obligations.     Now,  all  Christians,  and  particularly  parents, 
whose  obligations  to  their  children  are  all  very  difficult,  have 
frequently  to  discharge  duties  which  are  painful  and  very 
difficult  to  flesh  and  blood,  and   to   combat  with   violent 
temptations  to  neglect  these  duties  and  to  offend  God.  The 
duties  of  parents  to  their  children  are  exceedingly  difficult. 
They  are  bound,  first,  to  instruct  their  children,  or  to  take 
care  to  have  them  instructed  in  all  those  things  which  are 
necessary  to  salvation  ;  to  train  them  from  their  infancy  to 
habits  of  virtue  ;  to  make  them  frequent  the  sacraments  ;  to 
make  them  observe  the  commandments  of  God  and  of  the 
Church  ;  and  to  make  them  abstain  from  vice.     Secondlyj 
they   are   bound    to   give   their   children    good    example. 
Thirdly,  they  are  bound  to  correct  and,  when  necessary,  to 
chastise  their  children  for  their  faults,  particularly  as  often 
as  they  hear  them  utter  blasphemies  or  obscene  words,  or  find 
them   guilty  of  theft.     Fourthly,  they  are  bound  to  keep 
their  children  away  from  the  occasion  of  sin.     "  Hence," 
says  St.  Liguori  in  his  sermon  on  the  education  of  children, 
"  parents  must,  in  the  first  place,  forbid  their  children  to 
go  out  at  night,  or  to  go  to  any  house  in  which  their  virtue 
should  be  exposed  to  danger,   or  to  keep   bad   company. 
'  Cast  out/  said  Sara  to  Abraham,    '  this  bondswoman  and 
her  son.'     Sara  wished  to  have  Ishmael,  the  son  of  Agar, 
banished  from  her  house,  lest  Isaac  should  lesmi  his  vicious 
habits."     Bad  companions  are  the  ruin  of  young  persons. 
Parents  should  not  only  remove  the  evil  occasions  which 
they  witness,  but  are  also  bound  to  enquire  after  the  conduct 
of  their  children,  and  to  seek  inform;!! ion  Irom  domestics 
and  from  externs  regarding  the  places  which  their  children 
frequent  when  they  leave  home,  regarding  their  occupations 
and  companions.     Secondly,  parents  should  take  from  their 
children   every  musical   instrument   which   to  them   is  an 
occasion  of  going  out  at  night,  and  all  forbidden  weapons 


NECESSITY  OF  PRA  YER.  501 

which  may  lead  them  into  quarrels  or  disputes.  Thirdly, 
they  should  dismiss  all  immoral  servants;  and  if  their  sons 
be  grown  up,  they  should  not  keep  in  the  house  any  young 
female  servant.  Some  parents  pay  little  attention  to  this, 
and  when  evil  happens  they  complain  of  their  children,  as 
if  they  expected  that  tow  thrown  into  the  fire  should  not 
burn.  Fourthly,  parents  should  forbid  their  children  to 
bring  into  the  house  stolen  goods,  such  as  fowl,  fruit,  and 
the  like.  When  Tobias  heard  the  bleating  of  a  goat  in  his 
house,  he  said:  "Take  heed  lest  perhaps  it  be  stolen;  re 
store  ye  it  to  its  owners."  *  How  often  does  it  happen  that 
when  a  child  steals  something  the  mother  says:  "  Bring  it 
to  me,  my  son."  Parents  should  prohibit  to  their  children 
all  games  which  bring  destruction  on  their  families  and  on 
their  own  souls,  and  also  masks,  scandalous  comedies,  cer 
tain  dangerous  conversations,  and  parties  of  pleasure. 
Fifthly,  parents  should  remove  from  the  house  romances 
which  pervert  young  persons,  and  all  bad  books  which  con 
tain  pernicious  maxims,  tales  of  obscenity  or  profane  love. 
Sixthly,  they  ought  not  to  allow  their  children  to  sleep  in 
their  own  bed,  nor  the  males  and  females  to  sleep  together. 
Seventhly,  they  should  not  permit  their  daughters  to  be 
alone  with  men,  whether  young  or  old.  Some  will  say  : 
"  Such  a  man  teaches  my  daughters  to  read  and  write,  etc. ; 
ho  is  a  saint."  The  saints  are  in  heaven  ;  but  the  saints  on 
earth  are  flesh,  and  by  proximate  occasions  they  may  become 
devils.  Eighthly,  if  they  have  daughters,  parents  should 
not  permit  young  men  to  frequent  the  house.  To  get  their 
daughters  married,  some  mothers  invite  young  men  to  their 
houses.  They  are  anxious  to  see  their  daughters  married  ; 
but  they  do  not  care  to  see  them  in  sin.  These  are  the 
mothers  who,  as  David  says,  immolate  their  daughters  to 
the  devil.  "  They  sacrifice  their  sons  and  daughters  tc 

*Tob.  ii.  XL 


502  NECESSITY  OF  PR  A  YER. 

devils. "'  And  to  excuse  themselves  they  will  say:  "Fa 
ther,  there  is  no  harm  in  what  I  do."  There  is  no  harm  I 
Oh  !  how  many  mothers  shall  we  see  condemned  on  the  day 
of  judgment  on  account  of  their  daughters  !  0  fathers 
and  mothers  !  confess  all  the  sins  you  have  committed  in 
this  respect  before  the  day  on  which  you  shall  be  judged 
arrives.  What  a  multitude  of  graces  are  necessary  to  enable 
a  parent  to  fulfil  these  duties  !  All  Christians  have  difficult 
duties  to  perform,  but  the  obligations  of  parents  are  pe 
culiarly  difficult.  St.  Augustine;  as  has  already  been  said, 
teaches  that  God  does  not  ordinarily  give  grace  even  to  the 
saints  to  do  what  is  difficult  unless  they  pray  for  it.  If, 
then,  all  Christians,  but  particularly  fathers  and  mothers, 
do  not  send  up  frequent  petitions  for  it,  God  will  not  give 
them  the  grace  .to  fulfil  the  difficult  duties  of  their  state. 

St.  Augustine  assures  us  that  he  "who  does  not  know 
how  to  pray  well  will  not  know  how  to  live  well."  f  "  Nay," 
says  St.  Francis  of  Assisium,  "  never  expect  anything  good 
from  a  soul  that  is  not  addicted  to  prayer."  St.  Bernard 
was  wont  to  say  :  "  If  I  see  a  man  who  is  not  very  fond  of 
prayer,  I  say  to  myself,  That  man  cannot  be  virtuous."  St. 
Charles  Borromeo  says,  in  one  of  his  pastoral  letters :  "  Of  all 
means  that  Jesus  Christ  has  left  for  our  salvation,  prayer  is 
the  most  important."!  "  Indeed,"  says  St.  Alphonsus,  "  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  Providence,  our  meditations,  resolu 
tions,  and  promises  will  all  be  fruitless  without  prayer,  be 
cause  we  will  be  unfaithful  to  the  divine  inspiration  if  we 
do  not  pray ;  in  order  to  be  able  to  overcome  temptations, 
to  practise  virtue,  to  keep  the  commandments  of  God,  we 
need,  besides  divine  light,  meditations,  and  good  resolutions, 
the  actual  assistance  of  God.  Now,  this  divine  assistance  is 
given  to  those  only  who  pray  for  it,  and  who  pray  for  it  un 
ceasingly." 

The  governor   Paschasius   commanded   the   holy  virgin 
*  Psalm  ov.  87.  *  Homil.  43.  ;  Act.  Ecol.  Mod.  p.  1005. 


NECESSITY  OF  PRA  TER.  503 

Lucy  to  be  exposed  to  prostitution  in  a  brothel-house  ;  but 
God  rendered  her  immovable,  so  that  the  guards  were  not 
able  to  carry  her  thither.  He  also  made  her  an  over-match 
for  the  cruelty  of  the  persecutors  in  overcoming  fire  and 
other  torments.  It  is  only  the  Lord  who  can  make  us  im 
movable  in  all  our  good  resolutions  ;  it  is  only  His  grace 
that  can  prevent  us  from  being  carried  by  temptation  into 
the  abyss  of  hell.  <;  Unless  the  Lord  had  been  my  helper," 
says  David,  "  my  soul  had  almost  dwelt  in  hell."  :  And, 
"  Unless  the  Lord  keep  the  city,  he  watcheth  in  vain  that 
keepeth  it."  \  Unless  the  Lord  preserve  the  soul  from  sin, 
all  her  endeavors  to  avoid  it  will  be  fruitless.  "  Lord,"  ex 
claimed  St.  Philip  Neri,  "  keep  Thy  hand  over  me  this  day; 
otherwise  Thou  wilt  be  betrayed  by  Philip." 

Father  Hunolt,  S.J.,  says  that  to  hope  to  remain  free 
from  sin,  and  persevere  in  virtue,  and  be  saved  without 
prayer,  is  to  tempt  God,  to  require  of  Ilirn  a  miracle  ;  it  is 
just  as  absurd  as  to  imagine  that  you  can  see  without  eyes, 
hear  without  ears,  and  walk  without  feet.  Of  this  we 
should  be  firmly  convinced.  Let  us,  then,  as  St.  Bernard 
admonishes  us,  always  have  recourse  to  prayer  as  to  the 
surest  weapon  of  defence.  Let  prayer  be  our  first  act  in 
the  morning.  Let  us  have  recourse  to  prayer  whenever  we 
feel  tempted  to  lukewarmness,  to  impatience,  to  impurity, 
or  to  any  other  sin.  Let  us  arm  ourselves  with  prayer  when 
we  have  to  mingle  with  the  wicked  world,  or  when  we  have 
to  tight  against  our  corrupt  nature.  Let  prayer  never  leave 
our  hearts  ;  let  it  never  desert  our  lips ;  let  it  be  our  constant 
companion  on  all  our  journeys  ;  let  it  close  our  eyes  at 
night ;  let  it  be  our  exercise  of  predilection.  Every  other 
loss  may  be  repaired,  but  the  loss  of  prayer  never,  if.  on 
account  of  a  delicate  constitution,  we  cannot  fast,  we  may 
give  alms ;  if  we  have  no  opportunity  to  confess  our  sins,  we 
may  obtain  the  forgiveness  of  them  by  an  act  of  perfect 
*  Ps.  xctti.  t  Ps.  cxxviL  1. 


504  NECESSITY  OF  PRATES. 

contrition  ;  nay,  even  baptism  itself  may  sometimes  be  sup 
plied  by  an  earnest  desire  for  this  sacrament,  accompanied 
by  an  ardent  love  for  God.  But  as  for  him  who  neglects  to 
practise  prayer,  there  is  no  other  means  of  salvation  left. 
Let  us  give  up  every  other  occupation  rather  than  neglect 
prayer.  Let  us  persevere  in  prayer,  as  all  the  saints  have 
done  ;  let  us  follow  the  example  of  our  divine  Saviour,  who 
prayed  even  to  the  very  last  moment  of  His  life  ;  let  us 
leave  this  world  with  prayer  upon  our  lips.  Thus  prayer 
will  conduct  us  to  heaven,  there  to  reign  eternally  with  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  all  the  just  in  everlasting  joy  and 
glory. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    POWER   AND   MERCY    OF    THE    BLESSED   VIRGIN   MARY. 


A 


FATHER  had  in  store  costly  presents  of  gold  and  jew 
els  which  he  intended  to  give  his  children  as  a  token  of 
his  love  for  them.  The  time  chosen  by  the  father  for  the 
bestowal  of  his  gifts,  as  being  best  calculated  to  make  a  deep 
impression  on  the  minds  of  his  children,  was  when  he  lay 
on  his  death-bed.  Thus  the  gifts  became  the  last  memorials 
of  his  love. 

Our  divine  Saviour  thought  and  acted  in  the  same  man 
ner  when  hanging  on  the  cross.  We  can  imagine  Him  to 
say  :  "  I  have  already  given  men  so  many  proofs  of  my  love 
towards  them.  I  have  created  them.  I  preserve  their 
lives.  I  have  become  man  for  their  sake.  I  have  lived 
among  them  for  more  than  thirty  years.  I  have  given  them 
my  own  flesh  and  blood  as  food  and  drink  for  their  souls. 
I  am  yet  to  suffer  and  die  for  them  on  this  cross,  that  I 
may  reopen  heaven  to  them.  What  more  can  I  do  for 
them  ?  I  can  make  them  one  more  present.  I  will  give 
them  a  most  precious  gift:  the  only  gift  that  is  still  left, 
so  that  they  may  not  be  able  to  charge  me  with  having 
done  less  for  them  than  I  might  have  done.  I  have  kept 
this  gift  to  the  last,  because  it  is  my  desire  that  they  should 
ever  remember  it ;  because  it  is  so  precious  in  my  sight,  so 
dear  to  my  heart,  so  necessary  for  all  those  who  will  believe 
in  me :  and  because  it  is  to  be  the  means  of  preserving  all 
the  other  gifts.  This  last  gift,  this  keepsake  of  my  most 
tender  love  for  men,  is  my  own  most  pure  Virgin  Mother." 
God  alone  knows  the  inmost  yearnings  of  the  human 
heart.  God  alone  can  fully  understand  and  compassionate 


606  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF 

our  weakness.  At  our  birth  to  this  natural  life  God  gave 
each  of  us  a  father  and  a  mother,  to  be  our  guide  and  sup 
port,  our  refuge  and  consolation  ;  and  when,  in  the  holy  sac 
rament  of  baptism,  we  were  come  again  to  the  true  life  of 
grace,  God  gave  us  also  a  Father  and  a  Mother.  He  taught 
us  to  call  Him  "  Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven."  lie 
gave  us  His  own  blessed  Virgin  Mother  to  be  our  true  and 
loving  Mother.  That  Mary  is  our  Mother  we  were  told  by 
Jesus  Himself  when  hanging  on  the  cross :  "  Behold  thy 
Mother."*  By  His  all-powerful  word  God  created  the 
heavens  and  the  earth ;  by  His  word  He  changed  water  into 
wine  at  the  wedding-feast ;  by  His  word  He  gave  life  to  the 
dead ;  by  His  word  He  changed  bread  and  wine  into  His 
own  body  and  blood  ;  and  by  the  same  word  He  made  His 
own  beloved  Mother  to  be  truly  and  really  our  Mother  also- 
Mary,  then,  is  our  Mother,  as  Jesus  willed  and  declared ; 
and  Mary,  our  Mother,  is  an  all-powerful  Mother ;  she  is 
an  all-merciful  Mother. 

God  alone  is  all-powerful  by  nature,  but  Mary  is  all-pow 
erful  by  her  prayers.  What  more  natural  than  this  ? 

Mary  is  made  Mater  Dei,  the  Mother  of  God.  Behold 
two  words,  the  full  meaning  of  which  can  never  be  com 
prehended  either  by  men  or  angels.  To  be  Mother  of  God 
is,  as  it  were,  an  infinite  dignity  ;  for  the  dignity  of  that 
Mother  is  derived  from  the  dignity  of  her  Son.  As  there 
can  be  no  son  of  greater  excellence  than  the  Son  of  God, 
so  there  can  be  no  mother  greater  than  the  Mother  of  God. 
Hence  St.  Thomas  asks  whether  God  could  make  creatures 
'nearer  perfection  than  those  already  created,  and  he  an 
swers  yes,  He  can,  except  three:  i.e.,  1,  The  Incarnation  of 
the  Son  of  God  ;  2,  The  maternity  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
Mary  ;  and  3,  The  everlasting  beatitude  ;  in  other  words,  God 
can  create  numberless  worlds,  all  different  from  one  an 
other  in  beauty,  but  He  cannot  make  anything  greater 

*  John  xix.  27. 


THE  li  LESS  ED  VIRGIN  MARY.  •    507 

than  the  Incarnation  of  Christ,  the  Mother  of  God,  and 
the  happiness  of  the  blessed  in  heaven.  And  why  can 
lie  not  ?  Because  God  Himself  is  involved  in  and  most  in 
timately  united  to  each  of  these  works,  and  is  their  object. 
("  Haec  tria  Deum  involvimt  et  pro  objecto  habent.")  As 
there  can  be  no  man  as  perfect  as  Christ,  because  He  is  a 
Man-God,  and  as  there  can  be  no  greater  happiness  than  the 
beatific  vision  and  enjoyment  and  possession  of  God  in 
heaven,  where  the  soul  is,  as  it  were,  transformed  into  God 
and  most  inseparably  united  to  His  nature,  so  also  no  moth 
er  can  be  made  as  perfect  as  the  Mother  of  God.  These 
three  works  are  of  a  certain  infinite  dignity  on  account  of 
their  intimate  union  with  God,  the  infinite  Good.  There 
can  then  be  nothing  better,  greater  than,  or  as  perfect  as, 
these  three  works,  because  there  can  be  nothing  better  thai-. 
God  Himself.  The  Blessed  Virgin  gave  birth  to  Christ, 
who  is  the  natural  Son  of  God  the  Father,  both  as  God  and 
as  man.  Christ,  then,  as  man,  is  the  natural  Son  both  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin  and  of  God  the  Father.  Behold  in  what 
intimate  relation  she  stands  with  the  Blessed  Trinity,  she 
having  brought  forth  the  same  Son  whom  God  the  Father 
has  generated  from  all  eternity. 

Moreover,  the  Blessed  Virgin  is  the  Mother  of  God,  who 
had  no  earthly  father  ;  she  was  both  mother  and  father  to 
Jesus  Christ  Hence  she  is  the  Mother  of  God  far  more 
than  others  are  the  mothers  of  men ;  for  Christ  received  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin  alone  his  whole  human  nature,  and  is 
indebted  to  his  Mother  for  all  that  he  is  as  man.  Hence 
Christ,  by  being  conceived  and  born  of  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
became  in  a  certain  sense  her  debtor,  and  is  under  more 
obligations  to  her  for  being  to  Him  both  mother  and  father 
than  other  children  are  to  their  parents. 

If  Mary  is  the  Mother  of  God,  what  wonder,  then,  that 
God  has  glorified  and  will  glorify,  through  all  ages,  her 
power  of  intercession  with  Him  and  her  mercy  for  all  men  ? 


508  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF 

The  Eternal  Father  has  chosen  Mary  to  be  the  mother  of 
His  only  Son  ;  the  Holy  Spirit  chose  her  as  His  spouse. 
The  Son,  who  has  promised  a  throne  in  heaven  to  the  apos 
tles  who  preached  His  word,  is  bound  in  justice  to  do  more 
for  the  Mother  who  bore  Him,  the  eternal  Word.  If  we 
believe  in  honoring  our  mother,  surely  He  believes  in  hon 
oring  and  glorifying  His.  Now,  what  honors,  what  preroga 
tives,  should  God  bestow  on  her,  whom  he  has  so  much  fa 
vored,  and  who  served  Him  so  devotedly  !  How  should  she 
be  honored  whom  the  King  of  Heaven  deigns  to  honor  ! 

A  king  was  once  in  great  danger  of  being  assassinated, 
but  a  faithful  subject  discovered  the  plot,  revealed  it,  and 
thus  saved  the  monarch's  life.  The  king  was  moved  witli 
gratitude,  and  asked  his  ministers,  "  How  could  he  be  hon 
ored  whom  the  king  desires  to  honor  ?"  One  of  his  min 
isters  replied,  "He  whom  the  king  desired  to  honor  should 
be  clad  in  kingly  robes  ;  lie  should  be  crowned  with  a  kingly 
diadem,  and  the  first  of  the  royal  princes  should  go  before 
him  and  cry  aloud,  '  Thus  shall  he  be  honored  whom  the 
king  desires  to  honor.' "  In  this  manner  did  an  earthly  king 
reward  him  who  saved  his  life.  And  how  should  the  King 
of  heaven  and  earth  reward  her  who  gave  Him  His  human 
life  ?  How  should  Jesus  reward  the  loving  Mother  who 
bore  Him,  nursed  Him,  saved  Him  in  his  infancy  from  a 
most  cruel  death  ?  Is  there  any  honor  too  high  for  her 
whom  God  Himself  has  so  much  honored  ?  Is  there  any 
glory  too  dazzling  for  her  whom  the  God  of  glory  has 
chosen  for  His  dwelling-place  ?  No ;  it  is  God's  own  decree : 
Let  her  be  clad  in  royal  robes.  Let  the  fulness  of  the  God 
head  so  invest  her,  so  possess  her,  that  she  shall  be  a  spotless 
image  of  the  sanctity,  the  beauty,  the  glory  of  God  Himself. 
Let  her  be  crowned  with  a  kingly  diadem.  Let  her  reign 
for  ever  as  the  peerless  Queen  of  heaven,  of  earth,  and  of 
hell.  Let  her  reign  as  the  Mother  of  mercy,  the  Consoler 
of  the  afflicted,  the  Refuge  of  sinners.  Let  the  first  of  the 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MART.  509 

royal  princes  walk  before  her.  Let  the  angels,  the  pro 
phets,  the  apostles,  the  martyrs,  let  all  the  saints,  kiss  the 
hem  of  her  garment  and  rejoice  in  the  honor  of  being  the 
servants  of  the  Mother  of  God. 

No  wonder,  then,  if  we  rarely  hear  of  Mary  but  in  con 
nection  with  a  miraculous  demonstration  of  the  power  of 
God.  She  was  conceived  as  no  other  human  being  ever  was 
conceived.  She  again  conceived  her  Son  and  God  in  a  mir 
aculous  manner ;  miracles  attended  her  visit  to  her  cousin 
St.  Elizabeth  ;  the  birth  of  her  divine  Child  was  accompa 
nied  by  many  striking  prodigies.  When  she  carried  Him 
in  her  arms  to  present  Him  in  the  Temple,  behold  new  mira 
cles  followed  her  steps.  The  first  miracle  of  her  divine  Son 
was  performed  at  her  request.  She  took  part  in  the  awful 
mystery  of  the  Passion.  She  shared  in  the  sevenfold  gifts 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  at  Pentecost.  In  a  word,  miracles  seem 
to  have  been  the  order  in  her  life,  the  absence  of  miracles 
the  exception  ;  so  that  we  are  as  little  surprised  to  find  them 
attend  her  everywhere  as  we  should  be  astonished  to  hear 
of  them  in  connection  with  ourselves.  Mary  was  a  living 
miracle.  All  that  we  know  of  her  miraculous  power  now 
is  but  little  when  compared  with  the  prodigies  which  were 
effected  through  her  agency  during  her  earthly  career.  She 
saluted  her  cousin  Elizabeth  ;  and  when  that  holy  woman 
"  heard  her  salutation,  she  was  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost." 
She  addressed  her  divine  Son  at  the  marriage-feast,  and  said, 
"  They  have  no  more  wine  " ;  and  immediately  the  filial 
charity  which  had  bound  Him  to  her  for  thirty  years  con 
strained  Him  to  comply  with  her  request.  He  whose  meat 
and  drink  it  was  to  do  the  will  of  His  heavenly  Father 
seemed  to  make  the  will  of  Mary  the  law  of  His  action 
rather  than  His  own.  Again,  there  was  a  moment  when  the 
mystery  of  the  Incarnation  hung  upon  the  word' of  her  lips; 
the  destiny  of  the  world  depended  upon  an  act  of  her  will. 
When  God  wished  to  create  the  world,  "  He  spoke  and  it  wag 


510  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF 

done";  when  He  wished  to  redeem  the  world,  He  left  it  to 
the  consent  of  His  creature,  and  that  creature  was  Mary. 
She  said,  "  Be  it  done  to  me  according  to  Thy  word,"  and 
the  miracle  of  all  miracles,  the  mystery  of  all  mysteries, 
was  consummated.  "  God  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt 
amongst  us." 

It  cannot  surprise  us,  then,  that  she  should  continue  to 
be  a  centre  of  miraculous  action.  Her  whole  previous  history 
prepares  us  for  this.  It  seems  to  be  the  law  of  her  being ; 
she  represents  to  us  the  most  stupendous  miracle  that  the 
world  ever  witnessed.  It  seerns,  therefore,  almost  natural 
that  she  should  be  able  to  suspend  here  and  there  the  course 
of  natural  events  by  the  power  of  her  intercession.  All  that 
we  know  of  her  miraculous  power  now  is  as  nothing  when 
compared  with  the  prodigies  which  were  effected  through 
her  agency  during  her  earthly  career,  and  which  we  must 
believe,  unless  we  would  forfeit  the  very  name  of  Christian. 
The  apostles  did  not  enter  upon  their  office  of  intercession 
till  the  coming  of  the  Holy  Spirit  at  Pentecost ;  after  that, 
whatever  they  should  ask  the  Father  in  Christ's  name  they 
were  certain  to  receive.  Mary  began  her  office  of  inter 
cession  at  Cana.  Its  commencement  was  inaugurated  by 
Christ's  first  miracle.  It  is  true  that  His  answer,  in  words 
at  least,  seemed  at  first  unfavorable.  But  only  observe  how 
every  circumstance  of  that  event  strengthens  the  Catholic 
view  of  our  Lord's  conduct.  Mary's  faith  in  her  Son's 
power,  and  in  His  willingness  to  grant  her  request,  never 
wavered,  even  when  He  seemed  to  make  a  difficulty. 
Whether  His  words  had  a  meaning  wholly  different  from 
that  ordinarily  attached  to  them  now,  or  whether  she,  whose 
heart  was  as  His  own,  read  His  consent  in  the  tone  of  His 
voice  or  in  the  glance  of  His  eye,  her  only  answer  was  the 
words  addressed  to  the  servants  :  "Whatever  He  shall  say 
to  you,  do  it,"  evidently  proving  that  she  never  for  an  in 
stant  doubted  the  favorable  issue  of  her  request.  Now, 


THE  BLESSED  VIE  GIN  MA  RY.  511 

if  what  appeared  to  be  an  unseasonable  exercise  of  M:irv"g 
influence  resulted  in  a  miracle,  and  the  first  of  the  public 
miracles  of  our  Lord;  and  if  He  predicted  the  coming  of  ;iu 
hour  when  the  exercise  of  her  influence  should  no  longer  be 
unseasonable,  as  His  words  clearly  imply,  what  prodigies 
must  not  her  intercession  effect  at  the  present  time  !  If 
she  could  thus  prevail  with  God  in  her  lowliness,  what  can 
she  not  obtain  now  in  her  exalted  state  !  Number,  if  you 
can,  those  who,  through  the  intercession  of  Mary,  have 
been  restored  to  life  ;  how  many  sick  have  been  cured ;  how 
many  captives  have  been  set  at  liberty  ;  how  many  have 
been  delivered  by  Mary  who  were  in  danger  of  perishing 
by  fire,  in  danger  of  shipwreck,  in  danger  of  war  and  pes 
tilence  !  Number  all  the  kingdoms  which  she  has  founded  ; 
all  the  empires  which  she  has  preserved ;  to  how  many 
armies  that  put  themselves  under  her  protection  has  she 
not  given  victory  over  their  enemies  !  Call  to  mind  Narses, 
the  general  of  the  Emperor  Justinian.  Was  it  not  through 
Mary  that  he  gained  the  victory  over  the  Goths  ?  And  was 
not  the  victory  of  Heraclius  over  the  Persians  due  to  Mary  ? 
Pelagius  I.  sought  her  aid,  and  slew  80,000  Saracens.  Basil 
the  Emperor  defeated  the  Saracens  by  her  assistance.  By 
the  same  assistance  Godfrey  de  Bouillon  defeated  the  Sara 
cens  and  regained  Jerusalem.  Through  her  Alfonsus  VIJL, 
King  of  Castile,  slew  200,000  Moors,  with  the  loss  of  scarcely 
twenty  or  thirty  Christians.  Pius  V.  obtained  through  her 
intercession  the  celebrated  victory  over  the  Turks  at  Le- 
panto.  How  many  heresies  has  she  not  crushed  !  It  was 
she  who  animated  St.  Athanasius  and  St.  Gregory  Than- 
maturgus  to  defend  the  Church  against  the  Arians.  It  was 
she  who  animated  St.  Cyrillus  to  defend  the  doctrine  of  the 
Church  against  the  Nestorians.  It  was  she  who  inspired 
St.  Augustine  to  raise  his  voice  against  the  Pelagians.  It 
was  she  who  encouraged  St.  John  Damascene  to  attack  the 
fierce  heresy  of  the  Iconoclasts.  It  was  she  who  animated 


012  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF 

St.  Dominic  to  defend  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  against 
the  Albigenses.  It  was  she  who  filled  St.  Ignatius  Loyola 
with  undaunted  courage  to  battle  against  the  baneful  heresy 
of  Luther.  It  was  she  who  inspired  St.  Alphonsus  de  Li- 
guori  to  take  up  arms  against  the  poisonous  serpents  of 
Jansenism  and  Gallicanism.  It  is  she  who  has  inspired  so 
many  persons  to  consecrate  themselves  to  the  service  of  God 
in  the  religious  and  apostolic  life. 

These  public  manifestations  of  her  power  recorded  in  the 
history  of  the  Church  are  indeed  wonderful  ;  but  her  secret 
influence — the  influence  which  she  exerts  over  the  hearts  of 
men,  over  human  passions  and  motives  of  action,  over  the 
invisible  enemies  of  our  salvation — is  even  more  wonderful, 
more  comprehensive  still.  This  influence  is  felt  through 
the  whole  Church ;  it  is  of  hourly  occurrence.  Those  who 
have  felt  its  gentle  operation  can  bear  witness  to  the  truth 
of  its  existence.  How  many  of  the  just  have  become  per 
fect  through  Mary  ;  how  many  there  are  who  have  received 
the  grace  of  purity  through  her ;  how  many  there  are  who 
have  obtained  through  her  the  grace  to  overcome  their  pas 
sions  ;  how  many  who  have  already  obtained  through  her 
the  crown  of  life  everlasting  !  Behold  a  St.  Augustine,  a  St. 
John  Damascene,  a  St.  Germanus,  a  St.  Anselm,  a  St.  Bo- 
naventure,  a  St.  Bernard,  a  St.  Dominic,  a  St.  Vincent 
Ferrer,  a  St.  Xavier,  a  St.  Alphonsus  ;  behold  the  countless 
multitude  of  saints  who  for  their  sanctity  have  shone  like 
suns  in  the  heavens.  Was  it  not  through  Mary  that  they 
became  holy  ?  Have  they  passed  through  any  other  gate 
than  through  that  opened  by  Mary  ?  Think  of  all  the  sin 
ners  who  have  been  converted  through  Mary.  The  hourly 
conversions  of  such  numbers  are  the  hourly  triumphs  of 
Mary's  power ;  they  are  the  secret  but  most  conclusive  evi 
dence  of  the  queenly  authority  with  which  she  is  invested 
for  the  welfare  of  all  men. 

Some  years  ago  a  mission  was  given  in  a  certain  town. 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MART.  618 

The  people  took  great  interest  in  the  exercises,  and  ap 
proached  the  sacraments  with  great  fervor.  There  was  one, 
however,  who  took  no  part  in  the  mission.  He  had  not  been 
to  confession  for  over  twenty  years.  He  led  a  very  immoral 
life,  and,  as  a  natural  consequence,  had  become  an  infidel. 
Not  satisfied  with  being  corrupt  himself,  he  tried  to  ruin  all 
around  him.  He  even  spent  large  sums  of  money  in  buy 
ing  bad  books,  which  he  distributed  freely  amongst  the 
young  people  of  his  neighborhood.  He  spared  no  means 
which  wealth  and  cunning1  could  devise  to  ruin  pure  and  in 
nocent  souls.  On  the  last  day  of  the  mission,  whilst  the 
missionaries  were  all  busily  engaged  in  hearing  confessions, 
this  unhappy  man  came  to  church  also,  and  entered  one  of 
the  confessionals.  He  began  to  tell  his  sins  one  after  the 
other.  He  accused  himself  of  the  most  enormous  crimes,  but 
he  told  them  without  the  least  sign  of  sorrow — nay,  he 
even  gloried  in  his  wickedness;  especially  when  he  had  re 
lated  how  cunningly  he  had  devised  his  plans,  how  well  he 
had  succeeded  in  destroying  innocent  souls,  he  would  pause 
for  a  moment  and  look  at  the  priest  with  an  air  of  tri 
umph,  as  if  to  say:  "Now,  was  not  that  well  done  ?"  He 
went  on  thus  relating  his  sins  for  about  three-quarters  of  an 
hour;  at  last  he  stopped  and  said  :  "Now,  sir,  I  suppose  I 
have  told  you  enough  for  the  present  !  "  The  poor  mission 
ary  had  listened  patiently  to  the  wretched  man  without 
even  once  interrupting  him,  and  now  he  was  in  the  greatest 
strait,  as  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  him.  Should  he 
give  this  hardened  sinner  absolution,  and  thereby  load  his 
soul  with  another  mortal  sin — the  sin  of  sacrilege — or  should 
ne  send  him  away  with  that  frightful  load  of  sin  still  weigh 
ing  upon  his  soul  ?  What  was  to  bo  done  ?  At  last  the 
priest  began  to  exhort  him  to  repentance.  He  spoke  to  him 
of  the  enormity  of  sin,  the  terrors  of  judgment,  the  tor 
ments  of  hell;  but  the  man  interrupted  him,  and  said  in  an 
insolent  tone  :  "  Oh  !  let  all  that  go  for  tho  present.  That 


514  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OP 

may  do  very  well  to  frighten  old  women.  I  know  it  is  a  part 
of  your  trade  to  talk  thus,  but  you  see  such  things  do  not 
affect  me."  The  priest  continued,  however,  to  exhort  him, 
but  the  man  interrupted  him  again,  and  said :  "  My  good 
sir,  you  are  only  wasting  words.  I  do  not  even  ask  for  ab 
solution.  If  you  wish  to  absolve  me,  very  good  ;  if  not,  I 
am  quite  satisfied.  It  matters  little  to  me  whether  you  ab 
solve  rne  or  not."  The  priest  reflected  and  prayed  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said  to  the  hardened  sinner :  "  Well,  my 
good  friend,  at  least  one  thing  you  will  grant :  that  I  have 
listened  to  you  very  patiently."  "  Yes,  that  is  true,"  an 
swered  the  man.  "In  fact,  I  was  astonished,  and  I  must 
say  even  disappointed,  at  it  myself.  I  expected  that  you 
would  scold  me  and  fly  into  a  passion  ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth, 
that  was  just  what  I  wanted."  "  Well,  then,"  said  the 
priest,  "  since  I  have  done  you  the  favor  of  listening  to  you 
so  patiently,  will  you  also  do  me  a  little  favor  ?"  "  Well," 
said  the  man,  "if  it  is  not  too  much  or  too  costly,  perhaps 
I  might  do  it."  "  No  !  "  said  the  priest ;  "  the  favor  I  ask 
will  cost  you  nothing.  You  have  told  me,  among  othei 
things,  that  you  often  said  publicly  that  the  Blessed  Vir 
gin  Mary  is  nothing  more  than  any  ordinary  woman.  Now 
go  yonder  to  the  Blessed  Virgin's  altar,  and  say  slowly,  three 
times,  these  words :  '  0  Mary  !  I  believe  that  you  have  no 
more  power  than  any  ordinary  woman ;  if  you  have,  then 
prove  it  to  me."3  With  these  words  the  priest  sent  him 
away,  and  continued  to  hear  other  confessions.  About  an 
hour  after  a  man  was  seen  drawing  near  the  confessional 
with  a  slow,  heavy  tread.  It  was  the  same  sinner  again, 
but  oh  !  how  changed.  He  threw  himself  on  his  knees  before 
the  priest,  but  could  not  speak  ;  his  voice  was  choked  by  sobs 
and  tears,  his  strong  frame  quivered  with  emotion.  "  0 
father  ! "  cried  he  at  last,  "  is  there  any  hope  for  me  ?  Oh  ! 
what  a  monster  I  have  been  !  Father,  forgive  me  for  having 
insulted  you  awhile  ago ;  for  having  dishonored  the  holy 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MART.  516 

sacrament  of  confession.    All  !  now  I  wish  to  make  a  good, 
sincere  confession.     I  wish  to  change  my  life,  and  I  wish  to 
•  tone  for  all  the  evil  I  have  ever  done."    You  may  imagine 
ho\v  great  was  the  joy  of  the  priest  at  witnessing  this  happy 
charge.     He  enquired  of  the  man  the  cause  of  his  sudden 
conversion.     "  Father,"  said  the  now  repentant  sinner,  "  I 
did  as  you  told  me ;  I  went  to  the  Blessed  Virgin's  altar 
and  said :  '  0  Mary  !  I  believe    .     .     .'    Father,  I  cannot 
say  those  wicked  words  again.     Scarcely  had  I  uttered  them 
when   a  strange  feeling  came  over  me  which  I  could  not 
resist.    All  the  sins  of  my  whole  life,  my  black  ingratitude 
to  God,  appeared  in  an  instant  before  me.     My  heart,  my  in 
most  soul,  was  wrung  with  poignant  grief.     I  could  not  help 
it,  I  burst  into  tears — tears  of  true  repentance ;  and  now, 
father,  I  kneel  here  before  you  to  obtain  forgiveness  for  my 
enormous  crimes."     The  missionary  absolved  him,  and  his 
heart  was  filled  with  joy  as  he  received  back  the  prodigal  son 
who  had  been  straying  away  for  so  many  years.   Next  morn 
ing  this  man  knelt  at  the  communion-rail  for  the  first  time  in 
twenty  years.     And  when  the  good  parish  priest  saw  him 
there  kneeling  with   the  rest,  he  was  so  overcome  with 
emotion  that  he  had  to  turn  away  his  face  to  hide  his  tears. 
The  day  after  the  mission  all  the  clergy  and  the  leading 
members  of  the  congregation  had  assembled  in  the  house  of 
the  parish  priest.     As  they  were  speaking  together,  a  knock 
was  heard  at  the  door ;  the  door  was  opened,  and  in  walked 
the  convert.     He  fell  on  his  knees  before  the  parish  priest ; 
he  kissed  his  hands,  and  even  his  feet,  and  said,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes  :  "  Father,  forgive  me  for  having  so  often  grieved 
your  fatherly  heart  by  my  sinful  conduct.     Father,  forgive 
me  ! "    Then  he  turned  to  all  those  present,  and,  on  his 
knees,  begged  their  forgiveness  for  the  bad  example  he  had 
given  ;  after  which  he  arose,  and,  raising  his  right  hand  to 
heaven,  cried :  "  I  swear  by  the  living  God  that  I  will  con- 
gecvate  the  rest  of  my  life  to  God's  service.    With  God's  as- 


616  THE  POWER  AKD  MERCY  OF 

sistanco  I  will  repair,  to  the  best  of  my  power,  all  the  evil 
I  have  done,  all  the  scandal  I  have  given.''  And  this  man 
kept  his  word.  Long  after,  the  parish  priest  wrote  to  one 
of  the  missionaries  that  this  man,  who  had  formerly  led  so 
scandalous  a  life,  was  now  a  source  of  edification  to  the 
whole  community  ;  that  he  spared  no  pains  and  shunned  no 
labor  whenever  anything  was  to  be  done  for  the  glory  of 
God  and  the  salvation  of  souls. 

Nothing  is  too  great  for  Mary's  power.  And  as  there  is 
nothing  too  great  for  her  power,  so  there  is  nothing  too 
insignificant  for  her  notice.  While  she  fights  the  battles  of 
the  universal  Church,  she  cares  for  the  salvation  of  the 
least  of  Christ's  little  ones.  She  is  always  ready  to  console 
and  refresh  their  fainting  spirits,  to  procure  for  them  even 
the  smallest  actual  grace.  From  the  holy  virgin  martyr 
who  in  the  first  ages  of  the  Church  invoked  the  aid  of  Mary 
against  the  demon  of  impurity  to  the  youth  who  kneels  to 
day  before  her  altar,  imploring  the  preservation  of  his  inno 
cence  or  the  restoration  of  lost  virtue,  it  has  never  been 
heard  that  any  one  who  fled  to  her  protection,  implored  her 
assistance,  or  asked  her  prayers  was  left  unheeded.  One, 
for  instance,  sets  his  heart  upon  obtaining  from  the  Blessed 
Virgin  the  recovery  or  conversion  of  a  dear  friend  ;  another 
prays  for  the  clear  manifestation  of  the  divine  will  in  his 
regard  at  some  critical  period  of  his  life  ;  another  prays  for 
some  special  favor  ;  they  begin  a  novena  to  Mary,  and  ere  it 
is  ended  their  prayer  is  heard.  In  the  daily  strife  with  sin 
and  temptation  the  name  of  Mary  acts  as  a  spell  upon  the 
spirits  of  evil.  If  men  at  times  give  way  to  pride  and  con 
tempt  of  others,  they  invoke  the  aid  of  Mary,  and  their 
hearts  become  kind  and  humble.  Does  the  thought  of  im 
purity  cross  their  mind,  they  call  upon  her  name  ;  they 
raise  their  eyes  towards  her  throne,  and  the  demon  flies 
from  them.  Whilst  Mary,  this  loving  Mother,  was  yet 
on  earth,  her  heart  was  always  full  of  mercy  and  compa*- 


THE  BL ESS E D  \rjR G nv  MA RT.  51  ? 

sion  towards  all  men.  Destined  from  all  eternity  to  be  the 
Mother  of  the  God  of  mercy,  Mary  received  a  heart  like 
unto  the  heart  of  her  divine  Son  Jesus — a  heart  that  was 
free  from  every  stain  of  sin  and  overflowing  with  burning 
charity.  Yes,  Mary's  in  ore  y  grew  up  with  her  from  her 
tomlcr  childhood,  and  compassion  became  with  her  a  second 
nature.  See,  she  herself  reveals  the  loving  mercy  that  burns 
in  her  heart.  In  the  little  house  at  Nazareth,  in  her  silent 
chamber,  she  is  kneeling  all  alone.  With  more  than  seraphic 
ardor,  she  implores  God  to  send  speedily  the  long-wished- 
for  Redeemer.  The  angel  enters  and  salutes  Mary :  "  Hail, 
full  of  grace."  He  announces  the  glad  tidings  that  God 
Himself  desires  to  call  her  "  Mother,"  and  waits  for  her  an 
swer.  The  whole  human  race,  sinful  and  sorrowful,  lies 
prostrate  at  her  feet.  God  Himself,  the  Creator  of  all  things, 
awaits  the  free  consent  of  His  own  creature.  And  now 
Mary  reveals  all  her  virtues,  displays  her  unbounded  mercy. 
The  decisive  moment  has  come  ;  Mary  becomes  a  mother, 
and  remains  a  spotless  virgin.  She  becomes  the  Queen  of 
Heaven,  and  remains  the  meek  and  lowly  handmaid.  She 
utters  the  merciful  "fiat."  It  is  for  us  that  she  utters  it. 
"Be  it  done  to  me  according  to  Thy  word."  By  the  divine 
"fiat"  this  world  was  called  out  of  nothingness  into  exist 
ence,  and  by  the  "fiat "  of  Mary  this  same  world,  dead  in 
sin,  was  recalled  to  the  life  of  grace.  Well  does  Mary  know 
what  this  consent  will  cost  her ;  but  her  great  love  for  us, 
her  great  mercy  towards  us  sinners,  impels  her,  and  she  will 
ingly  offers  herself  to  suffer  sorrow  and  contempt,  to  endure 
every  pang,  for  our  sake. 

Behold  once  more  this  holy  Virgin,  full  of  divine  grace 
and  mercy,  going  in  haste  over  the  mountains  of  Judea.  See 
how  she  undertakes  a  long  and  tedious  journey  of  several  days 
— and  all  for  what  ?  Her  compassionate  heart  knows  that 
the  infant  John  the  Baptist  lies  bound  by  the  chains  of  sin  ; 
ihe  hastens  to  burst  those  fetters.  No  sooner  has  Marv 


818  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF 

arrived  at  the  house  of  Elizabeth  than  the  infant  is  freed 
from  sin,  is  sanctified,  and  the  compassionate  Virgin  sings 
a  sublime  canticle  of  praise  and  gladness. 

The  evangelist  tells  us  in  a  few  words  the  entire  fulness 
of  the  mercy  of  Mary:  "  Mary,  of  whom  was  born  Jesus." 
These  few  words  contain  such  a  superabundance  of  graces 
for  us  that  we  can  think  of  nothing  better,  we  can  think 
of  nothing  greater.  For  Jesus  is  our  most  merciful  Re 
deemer.  He  is  mercy  itself,  and  Mary  is  the  Mother  of 
Jesus— the  Mother  of  mercy.  The  shepherds  of  Bethlehem 
can  tell,  and  the  wise  men  of  the  East  can  bear  witness  to 
the  fact,  that  when  they  found  the  Child  and  its  Mother  in 
the  poor  and  lowly  stable,  their  joy,  their  happiness,  their 
consolation  knew  no  bounds. 

If  we  wish  to  see  still  more  clearly  how  deeply  the  heart 
of  Mary  felt  for  our  miseries,  let  us  approach  the  Temple 
and  see  Mary  offer  up  her  dearly-beloved  Son  for  us.  Yes, 
so  dearly  has  Mary  loved  the  world  that  she  has  sacrificed 
her  only-begotten  Son  for  the  life  of  the  world.  Only  he 
who  understands  the  boundless  love  that  Mary  bore  to  her 
divine  Son  can  fully  understand  the  love  and  mercy  of 
Mary  towards  us,  her  erring  children. 

The  love  and  solicitude  with  which  Mary  watched  over 
the  infant  Jesus  was  also  love  and  solicitude  for  us.  It  was 
for  us  that  she  nourished  Jesus,  in  order  that  the  blood 
which  she  gave  Him  might  be  shed  for  us  and  for  our  sins; 
it  was  for  us  that  she  nourished  Jesus,  in  order  that  He  might 
grow  up  and  labor  for  our  salvation  ;  it  was  for  us  that  she 
saved  her  divine  Infant  from  the  hands  of  the  cruel  Herod, 
in  order  that  He  might  enrich  us  with  His  doctrine  and  ex 
ample,  and  tli at  He  might  finally  lay  down  His  life  for  us 
upon  the  cross. 

"Beside  the  cross  of  Jesus  stood  his  Mother."  Only 
think,  such  a  mother  witnessing  such  a  death— the  death 
of  her  Only-Begotten  !  Christian  mothers  who  have  stood 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MART.  519 

by  the  bedside  of  a  dying  child  may  realize  the  anguish  of 
such  a  soer.e.  But  it  was  even  here  that  the  greatest  bless 
ing  was  bestowed  on  us  ;  for" it  was  here  that  Mary  was  first 
publicly  proclaimed  to  be  our  Mother.  "  Woman,  behold 
thy  son  ! "  "  Dear  Mother,"  said  her  dying  Son,  "  I  am  now 
about  to  die ;  I  am  about  to  depart  from  thee,  but  I  leave 
thee  another  son  in  my  stead ;  I  leave  thee  my  beloved  dis 
ciple.  Thou  slialt  now  be  his  Mother  ;  thou  shalt  now  be 
the  Mother,  the  Refuge,  of  sinners.  Woman,  behold  thy 
sou  ! "  Mark  well  those  words  !  Ye  angels  of  heaven, 
boar  witness  to  those  words  !  Jesus  has  provided  for  us  in 
His  testament.  He  has  bequeathed  to  us  a  priceless  treas 
ure.  He  has  given  us  His  own  pure  Virgin  Mother.  And, 
indeed,  Mary  receives  us  as  her  children.  Every  word  of 
her  divine  Son  is  sacred  in  her  eyes.  She  knows  that  such 
is  the  will  of  her  dying  Son.  The  will  is  written  in  blood — 
in  the  blood  of  Jesus — and  sealed  by  His  death.  Jesus  finally 
returns  to  heaven,  and  Mary  remains  yet  on  earth  to  encourage 
and  console  His  sorrowing  disciples.  And  now  that  Mary 
also  has  ascended  into  heaven,  has  she  forgotten  those  chil 
dren  of  sorrow  whom  Jesus  has  confided  to  her  care  ?  Oh  ! 
no  ;  it  is  not  in  our  Mother's  heart  to  forget  her  children. 
Never  did  any  one  ask  a  grace  of  Mary  without  being  heard. 
In  heaven  her  love  and  mercy  towards  us  has  only  become 
more  ardent,  more  efficacious.  Every  century,  nay,  every 
year,  every  day,  every  hour,  especially  the  dying  hour  of  so 
many  sinners,  bears  witness  to  Mary's  undying  love  and  in 
exhaustible  mercy. 

St.  Teresa  gives  us  an  account  of  a  merchant  of  Valla- 
dolid  who  did  not  live  as  a  good  Christian  should  live. 
However,  he  had  some  devotion  to  the  Blessed  Virgin.  One 
day  St.  Teresa  went  to  Valladolid  to  find  a  house  for  her 
nuns.  The  merchant,  hearing  that  Teresa  was  seeking  a 
house,  went  to  her  and  offered  to  give  her  one  of  his  houses, 
saying  that  he  would  give  it  in  honor  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 


520  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  or 

Afarj.     St.  Teresa  thanked  him  and  took  the  house.     Two 

months  after,  the  gentleman  was  suddenly  taken  so  \ery  ill 
that  he  was  not  able  to  speak  or  to  make  his  confession.  He 
could  only  show  by  signs  that  he  wished  to  beg  pardon  of 
uur  Lord  for  his  sins,  and  died  soon  after.  "  After  his 
death,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "  I  saw  our  Lord.  He  told  me  that 
tliis  gentleman  had  been  very  near  losing  his  soul.  But  He 
had  mercy  on  him  because  of  the  service  he  did  to  His 
blessed  Mother  by  giving  the  house  in  her  honor.  She  ob 
tained  for  him,  in  the  hour  of  death,  the  grace  of  true  con 
trition  for  his  sins."  "  I  was  glad,"  says  St.  Teresa,  "  that 
this  soul  was  saved ;  for  I  was  very  much  afraid  it  would 
have  been  lost  on  account  of  his  bad  life." 

All  !  how  great  is  the  power  and  mercy  of  Mary  !  How 
kind,  how  solicitous,  how  merciful,  how  careful  and  com 
passionate  is  the  Mother  of  God  !  How  often  are  we  igno 
rant  of  the  troubles  that  await  us  !  Mary,  however,  knows 
them,  and  hastens  to  our  assistance.  How  often  are  we  un 
conscious  of  the  dangers  that  surround  us  !  Mary  perceives 
them,  and  protects  us  from  all  harm.  How  often  does  this 
good  Mother  pray  for  us  when  we  do  not  think  of  asking 
her  prayers  !  Let  us  treasure  up  those  words  in  our  hearts  : 
"  Dear  Son,  they  have  no  wine."  They  will  console  us  in  the 
hour  of  affliction.  When  a  sense  of  utter  loneliness  op 
presses  us,  when  we  seem  abandoned  by  all  the  world,  then 
is  the  time  to  remember  that  we  have  a  Mother  in  heaven. 
The  Blessed  Virgin  Mary  has  not  forgotten  us.  How  often 
has  she  already  prayed  for  us  to  her  divine  Son  :  "  My  dear 
Son,  see,  my  servant  has  no  more  wine.  See,  he  stands 
sorely  in  need  of  the  virtue  of  a  lively  faith,  charity,  and 
holy  purity."  How  often  has  Mary  changed  the  waters  of 
pain  and  sorrow  into  the  cheering  wine  of  joy  and  gladness' 
When  we  stood  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice,  and  stretched 
forth  our  hands  to  sin,  Mary,  like  a  tender  mother,  stretched 
forth  her  arms  to  save  us.  When,  by  our  sins,  we  oruellj 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MART.  521 

pierced  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus,  then  it  was  that  Mary 
offered  up  for  us  the  precious  blood  that  gushed  forth  from 
the  gaping  wound. 

If  God  has  endowed  the  Blessed  Mother  of  His  only -be 
got  ten  Son  with  such  power  and  dominion,  and  with  such 
charity  and  mercy  towards  us,  is  it  strange  that  we  rejoice  in 
the  name,  in  the  dignity,  in  the  glory,  in  the  power,  and  mercy 
of  Mary  ?  Would  it  not,  on  the  contrary,  be  strange  indeed, 
were  we  to  be  slow  in  proclaiming  her  praise,  and  power 
and  mercy?  Her  first  and  strongest  title  to  our  love,  ho 
mage,  and  confidence  in  her  is  the  indelible  character  of 
glory  communicated  to  her  by  the  miracle  of  the  Incarna 
tion,  by  which  God  became  man  of  her  substance,  the 
Eternal  became  subject  to  the  laws  of  time  and  space,  the 
Infinite  was  comprehended  in  the  form  of  an  infant,  the  in 
visible  Creator  of  the  universe  became  visible  to  the  eyes  of 
His  creatures.  Her  co-operation  was  necessary  before  that 
miracle  could  take  place  ;  a  portion  of  its  splendor,  there 
fore,  rests  for  ever  on  her  royal  head.  She  has  earned  for 
herself,  through  her  correspondence  with  God's  grace,  new 
titles  of  honor  and  renown  ;  but  the  mystery  of  the  Incar 
nation  lies  at  the  foundation  of  her  greatness.  With  that 
mystery,  which  is  continued  in  a  certain  sense  in  the  most 
holy  Sacrament  of  the  Altar,  she  too  is  intimately  con 
nected,  inasmuch  as  the  sacred  humanity  which  we  worship 
there,  in  union  with  the  divinity  of  Jesus  Christ,  was  as 
sumed  from  her  virginal  flesh  and  blood. 

St.  Anselm,  St.  Francis,  St.  Bonaventure,  St.  Peter  Da- 
mian,  St.  Bernard,  and,  in  these  latter  days,  St.  Alphon- 
sus,  stand  as  witnesses  to  the  great  spiritual  law  that  the 
love  of  the  Virgin  Mother  of  God  is  not  a  sentiment  or  a 
poetry  in  religion,  which  may  or  may  not  be  encouraged  by 
individuals  at  their  will,  but  that  love  and  veneration, 
second  only  to  the  love  and  veneration  paid  to  her  divine 
Son,  is  due  to  her  by  a  law  which  springs  from  the  very  sub- 


522  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF 

stance  of  the  faith.  It  is  impossible  to  realize  the  Incarna 
tion  as  we  ought,  and  not  to  love  and  venerate  the  Mother 
of  God;  it  is  impossible  to  love  the  Son  without  loving  the 
Mother.  In  proportion  to  our  love  to  the  Son  will  be  our 
love  to  the  Mother  who  bore  Him;  in  so  far  as  we  are  con 
formed  to  the  likeness  of  the  Son  we  shall  love  the  Mother, 
who,  next  to  the  Eternal  Persons,  the  Father  and  the  Holy 
Ghost,  is  the  dearest  object  of  the  love  of  the  Eternal  Son. 
The  love  of  the  Mother  of  God  is  the  overflow  of  the  love 
we  bear  to  her  divine  Son  ;  it  descends  from  Him  to  her, 
and  we  may  measure  our  love  to  Him  by  our  love  to  her. 
It  is  impossible  to  be  cold,  distant,  dry,  or  reserved  towards 
the  Mother  of  our  Redeemer,  and  to  be  fervent  in  our  love 
to  the  Redeemer  Himself.  Such  as  we  are  to  Him,  such, 
in  due  measure,  shall  we  be  to  her. 

Not  to  love  and  honor  Mary  sincerely  must  proceed 
either  from  culpable  neglect  or  from  want  of  faith  in  th< 
divine  revelation  and  in  the  wise  plans  of  Providence. 
"  He  that  despiseth  you  despiseth  me,"  said  our  Blessed 
Lord  to  His  apostles.  His  words  apply  with  greater  force 
to  His  holy  Mother  ;  and,  "  He  that  despiseth  me  despiseth 
Him  that  sent  me."  Far  from  us  be  the  unworthy  fear 
that  by  having  recourse  to  Mary  we  should  disparage  the 
honor  of  Christ.  The  more  we  look  up  to  her,  the  higher 
must  her  divine  Son  rise  in  our  regard  ;  for  His  glory  exceeds 
hers  as  the  inherent  splendor  of  the  sun  surpasses  the  bor 
rowed  light  of  the  moon,  as  the  divine  Creator  excels  His 
most  gifted  creature.  We  cannot  love,  and  honor,  and 
pray  to  Mary  without  loving  and  honoring  Him  who  has 
made  her  so  worthy  of  love.  And  we  cannot  love  Him  as 
He  ought  to  be  loved  without  being  especially  drawn  to 
wards  His  Blessed  Mother.  If  we  love  Him,  we  must  imi 
tate  Him  to  the  best  of  our  power,  especially  in  His  filial 
love  and  reverence  for  His  Blessed  Mother. 

The  saints  have  always  made  Christ's  love  for  His  Blessed 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MART.  523 

Mother  the  model  of  their  love  for  that  most  holy  Virgin. 
To  name  the  saints  who  were  deeply  devoted  to  Mary  would 
be  to  name  them  all.  The  more  they  strove  to  love  God, 
the  more  they  felt  drawn  to  love  Mary ;  or,  to  speak  more 
correctly,  the  more  they  increased  in  love  of  Mary,  the  moro 
they  increased  also  in  love  for  God. 

ihe  Church  has  never  grown  weary  of  praising  and  hon 
oring  Mary.  Consider  the  many  days  in  the  year  that  are 
consecrated  to  her  honor;  the  solemnity  and  frequency  of 
her  feasts.  The  hymns  composed  in  honor  of  her  are  num 
berless.  She  is  extolled  by  the  clergy,  revered  by  all  na 
tions,  esteemed  and  honored  by  all  that  are  of  good-will 
and  truly  sincere  heart.  But  whoever  would  conceive  a 
true  idea  of  the  power  and  mercy  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
Mary,  whoever  would  fairly  estimate  the  heart-felt  loyalty 
of  Christians  for  their  heavenly  Queen  and  Mother,  must 
pass  into  Catholic  lands  and  observe  the  fervent  multitudes 
that  crowd  the  sanctuaries  of  Our  Blessed  Lady.  Mindful 
of  the  many  extraordinary  favors  received  from  Mary  in 
some  particular  sanctuary  of  hers,  the  people  call  upon 
Our  Lady  of  Loretto,  Our  Lady  of  Einsiedeln,  Our  Lady 
of  Fourviere,  Our  Lady  of  Puy,  Our  Lady  of  La  Salette, 
Our  Lady  of  Lourdes,  Maria  Zell,  Our  Lady  of  Guadalupe, 
and  a  hundred  others.  All  Europe  is  filled  with  sanctuaries 
of  Our  Blessed  Lady.  There  sacred  processions  sweep 
through  the  streets;  long  trains  of  pilgrims  wind  by  the 
banks  of  rivers  or  through  the  greenwood  to  a  favored 
chapel  of  Our  Lady.  The  sweet  face  of  the  Virgin  Mother 
smiles  upon  them  as  they  pass  the  wayside  shrine  ;  the 
hum  of  business  is  stilled,  and  the  traveller  bares  his  head 
for  a  moment's  communion  with  God,  as  the  angelus  bell 
rings  from  the  neighboring  steeple ;  and  the  very  mile 
stones  on  the  roadside  become  niches  which  speak  to  us  of 
love  and  devotion  to  Mary. 

It  is  impossible  for  those  who  have  never  visited  thf 


524  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF 

towns  and  villages  of  a  Catholic  country  to  conceive  the 
feeling  of  delight  with  which  the  pious  traveller  is  affected 
at  the  sight  of  so  many  images  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
placed  at  the  corners  of  streets,  in  squares  and  public 
places,  on  bridges,  fountains,  and  obelisks,  or  between  the 
stalls  of  a  village  market  or  fair.  Each  statue  or  holy  im 
age  has  its  lantern,  and  is  decorated  with  flowers,  which  the 
'people  of  the  neighborhood  renew  every  morning  at  daybreak. 
The  sweet  name  of  Mary  is  the  most  familiar  of  household 
words.  The  poet  chants  her  praises;  the  painter  and 
sculptor,  the  masters  of  art,  love  to  reproduce  her  pure,  ma 
ternal  face ;  and  even  the  Protestant  has  not  yet  learned  tc 
speak  of  her  with  disrespect  nor  utterly  banish  all  love  for 
her  from  his  heart.  It  is  on  account  of  this  great  love  for 
the  Blessed  Mother  of  God  that  there  is  not  a  province  but 
has  its  own  favorite  image  and  sanctuary  of  Our  Lady,  and, 
linked  with  that  image,  some  legend  which  marks  the  spot 
as  a  chosen  abode,  selected  for  the  outpourings  of  her  ma 
ternal  favors. 

From  the  firm  belief  that  such  spots  are  more  highly  fa 
vored  than  others,  and  that  prayers  offered  there  are  more 
readily  heard,  the  pious  practice  has  risen  of  making  public 
or  private  pilgrimages  to  these  holy  places,  in  order  to  ob 
tain  some  particular  favor,  or  to  render  thanks  to  God, 
through  His  Blessed  Mother,  for  favors  obtained.  For  if 
God  sends  us  so  many  favors  through  Mary  as  their  channel 
—the  channel  naturally  the  most  agreeable  to  Him — we  are 
impelled  to  return  our  thanks  through  the  same  blessed 
channel.  When  our  hearts  are  filled  with  emotions  of  grati 
tude  or  veneration,  we  naturally  seek  to  give  vent  to  our 
feelings  by  some  outward  act  of  devotion ;  and  hence  the 
faithful  have,  in  all  ages,  formed  solemn  processions,  made 
long,  pilgrimages,  to  some  favorite  shrine  of  the  Madonna, 
in  order  to  express  their  love  and  devotion  to  their  beloved 
Queen. 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MARY.  525 

In  these  sanctuaries  of  Our  Blessed  Lady  may  be  seer 
votive  offerings,  ornaments  of  gold  and  silver  and  precious 
stones,  in  commemoration  of  miraculous  cures  or  other  ex 
traordinary   favors  obtained  through   the   intercession    of 
Mary  by  those  who  invoked  her  at  her  holy  shrine.     The 
blind  are  restored  to  sight,   the   lame  walk,  the  dead  are 
raised  to  life,  demons  are  expelled  from  the  bodies  of  men. 
These  are  authentic  facts,  attested  not  only  by  persons  of 
note  who  have  heard  them  from  others,  but  by  thousands 
of  eye-witnesses  whose  sincerity  we  cannot  doubt— facts  so 
numerous  that,  if  all  were  written,  the.  world  itself  could 
scarcely  contain  the  books  ;  facts  which  plainly  tell  us  that 
since  God  is  pleased  to  assist  us  in  all  our  necessities,  spirit 
ual  and  temporal,  through  Mary,  it  is  also  in  Mary  that  we 
are  to  seek  and  to  find  our  constant  help  or  intercessor  in 
the  work,  of  our  sanctification  and  salvation.     If  we  con 
sider  how  the  anti-Catholic  pulpit  and  lecture-room,  the 
press  and  every  public  resort,  re-echo  against  the  Catholic 
Church  the  false  charges  of  idolatry,  of  taking  from  God 
the  honor  due  to  Him  alone,  and  giving  it  to  a  creature ;  if 
we  consider  how  even  the  most  charitable  of  our  enemies 
shake  their  heads  and  bewail  what  they  call  the  unfortunate 
propensity  of  the  Roman  Catholics  to  give  too  much  honor 
to  Mary;  if  we  consider  how  many  temptations  surround 
the  Catholic  here,  how  hard  it  is  to  bear  contempt,  misre 
presentation,  and  wilful  falsehood  ;  how  much  easier  it  is  to 
hide  a  delicate  and  beloved  sentiment  than  to  expose  it  to 
the  risk  of  a  sneer ;  how  swift  the  pace  of  the  money-hunter 
is  here  ;  how  little  the  beautiful  in  life  and  faith  is  cultivated  ; 
and  how  devoted  men  are  to  what  they  are  pleased  to  call 
the  practical — which  means  simply  more  careful  diligence  for 
the  body  than  for  the  soul,  for  time  than  for  eternity— if 
we  consider  all  this,  the  wonder  is  not  that  there  is  so  much 
or  so  little  devotion  to  Our  Lady,  but  that  there  is  any  de- 
rotion  at  all.      Yet  it  is  safe  to  believe  that  notwithstand- 


626  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OP 

ing  all  these  difficulties,  there  is  no  Catholic  country  in 
Europe,  there  never  has  been  a  country,  in  which  reverent 
love  and  earnest,  heart-felt  devotion  for  the  Blessed  Mother 
of  God  are  more  deeply  rooted,  more  ardently  cherished,  or 
more  fervently  practised  than  in  this  country  of  America. 
This  devotion  to  Mary  guides  and  influences  the  hearts  of 
men,  and  it  is  found  pure  and  glowing  in  the  souls  even 
of  those  who  seem  to  he  most  engrossed  in  worldly  affairs. 
It  begins  in  earliest  childhood,  when  the  scapular  and 
the  medal  are  placed  around  the  neck  of  the  babe,  to  re 
main  there  even  to  the  hour  of  death.  As  the  child  grows 
up,  he  associates  himself  with  some  sodality  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin.  As  soon  as  he  has  grown  up  to  manhood  he  joins 
some  benevolent  society  which  is  placed  under  the  special 
patronage  of  the  Queen  of  Angels.  The  .Daughters  of  Our 
Lady  of  the  Visitation  of  Loretto  and  similar  communities 
train  up  our  young  girls  ;  the  Brothers  of  Mary  devote 
themselves  to  the  education  of  our  youth.  The  bishop 
labors  patiently  till  his  seminary  of  St.  Mary  is  completed  ; 
the  priest  toils  arduously  until  his  parish  of  the  Annuncia 
tion  or  of  the  Assumption  is  established  ;  all  join  their 
prayers,  their  counsel,  their  wealth,  their  labor,  their  self- 
denial,  until  the  cross  peers  through  the  greenwood  from  the 
convent  of  Mary's  Help,  till  the  church  of  the  Immaculate 
crowns  the  summit  of  the  hill. 

In  the  council  held  in  Baltimore,  in  1846,  the  assembled 
fathers — twenty-two  bishops  with  their  theologians — sol 
emnly  chose  the  Blessed  Virgin  Immaculate  as  Patroness 
of  the  United  States  of  America.  These  Fathers  of  the 
council  had  been  trained  to  honor  the  Blessed  Mother  of 
God ;  they  had  labored  in  her  service ;  they  desired  to  add 
tli  is  crowning  glory  to  all  that  they  had  done  in  her  honor 
during  a  long  life  of  labor  and  prayer ;  they  wished  at  the 
same  time  to  show  their  zeal  for  the  true  interests  of  this 
country  by  placing  the  entire  United  States  under  her  pro- 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MARY.  527 

tection  in  this  solemn  and  public  manner.  In  the  following 
year  this  election  was  confirmed  by  the  Sovereign  Pontiff, 
and  from  that  time,  in  all  public  sessions  that  close  these 
august  assemblies,  after  the"  Te  Deum"  has  been  chanted, 
the  cantors,  richly  vested,  stand  before  the  altar  and  intone 
their  first  acclamation  to  the  Most  High.  As  soon  as  that 
solemn  hymn  of  praise  is  ended,  they  burst  forth  in  the 
words  "  Beatissimse  Virgini  Mariae,  sine  labe  originali  con 
cepts,  harum  Provinciarum  Patronoj  honor  asternus. "  Trans 
lated:  "  To  the  most  Blessed  Virgin  Mary,  conceived  without 
original  sin,  the  patron  of  these  provinces,  be  eternal  honor." 
And  in  chorus  the  venerable  bishops,  the  theologians  and 
attendant  priests,  and  the  whole  multitude  of  the  people 
repeat  the  glad  acclamation. 

Ever  since  that  solemn  act  Mary  has  gained  vast  posses 
sions  in  this  country;  and  we  may  confidently  hope  that 
she  will  conquer  it  all  and  annex  it  all  to  the  kingdom  of 
her  divine  Son.  Love  and  devotion  towards  Mary  are  on 
the  increase.  This  love  for  the  Mother  of  God  is  a  good 
omen ;  she  will  not  fail  to  show  openly  that  she  is  the  Pa 
troness  of  this  country  and  the  Perpetual  Help  of  all  who 
invoke  her  holy  name.  As  she  selected,  in  Europe,  certain 
spots  as  resting-places  for  the  outpourings  of  her  maternal 
affection,  so  she  will  do  the  same  in  those  cities  and  towns 
of  these  United  States  where  the  faithful  truly  love  her  and 
invoke  her  as  the  Perpetual  Help  in  all  temptations  and 
troubles.  In  fact,  in  our  own  days,  in  these  States,  the 
Blessed  Virgin  has  bestowed  extraordinary  favors  ;  she  has 
performed  miracles  in  support  of  the  truth,  already  so  often 
repeated,  that  she  is  Our  Lady  of  Perpetual  Help  here  as 
well  as  in  Europe. 

This  is  the  Mother  whose  equal  is  not  to  be  found— the 
Blessed  Mother  of  God,  the  Immaculate  Virgin  Mary.  It  js 
to  this  most  loving  Mother  that  Christian  parents  must  com 
mend  their  children  if  they  would  wish  to  preserve  them 


528  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF 

from  the  dangers  that  surround  them.  Oh  !  were  God  Lo 
lift  the  veil  of  futurity  ;  could  parents  behold  the  lurking 
demons  lying  in  wait  to  ruin  their  children,  they  would  see 
the  necessity  of  placing  them  under  the  special  protection 
of  the  Blessed  Mother  of  God.  Teach  the  children  to  love 
Mary  ;  teach  them  to  be  devout  to  Mary  ;  teach  them  to 
pray  to  Mary,  and  to  call  upon  her  in  every  danger.  Teach 
them  expressly  by  word  and  example  to  love  and  to  practise 
the  holy  devotion  of  the  rosary  and  the  scapular,  which  is 
so  pleasing  to  Mary.  Bequeath  this  devotion  to  them,  and 
Mary  will  watch  over  them  as  a  mother,  and  will  guard 
them  and  guide  them,  until  one  day  mother  and  child  are 
united  again  in  heaven. 

St.  Bridget  had  a  son  of  the  name  of  Charles,  boyish  alike 
in  years  and  disposition.  Having  in  his  youth  adopted  the 
military  profession,  he  soon  met  his  death  on  the  battle 
field.  The  saint,  reflecting  on  the  dangerous  time  of  life  iu 
which  her  son  had  died,  the  occasion,  the  place,  and  other 
circumstances  of  his  death,  was  tilled  with  great  fear  about 
his  eternal  lot.  But  God,  who  loved  her  tenderly,  delayed 
not  to  comfort  her  by  the  following  vision  :  She  was  led  in 
spirit  to  the  judgment-seat  of  the  Eternal  Judge,  where 
she  beheld,  seated  on  a  lofty  throne,  the  Saviour  Himself, 
with  the  Blessed  Virgin,  as  Mother  and  Queen,  at  His  side. 
No  sooner  had  she  appeared  before  the  divine  tribunal  than 
Satan  came  forward,  and,  with  a  disappointed  air,  began 
boldly  to  speak  as  follows  :  "  Thou,  0  Judge!  art  so  right 
eous  in  Thy  decrees  that  I  trust  I  shall  obtain  all  I  ask  of 
Thee,  even  though  I  be  Thine  enemy,  and  though  Thy 
Mother  plead  against  me.  Thy  Mother  wronged  me  in  two 
points  on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  Charles.  The  first  is 
this:  On  the  last  day  of  the  life  of  the  young  man,  she 
entered  his  chamber,  and  remained  there  until  he  expired, 
driving  me  away,  and  keeping  me  far  off,  so  that  I  was  un 
able  to  approach  the  bed  and  ply  him  with  my  temptations. 


THE  BLESSED  VIUGTN  MART.  529 

Now,  this  WHS  a  manifest  injustice  ;  for  I  have  received  a 
grant  of  the  right  to  tempt  men.  especially  in  their  last 
moments,  on  which  depends  the  loss  or  gain  of  the  souls 
which  I  so  much  long  to  make  my  own.  Give  orders,  then, 
0  just  Judge  !  that  this  soul  return  to  his  body,  that  I  may 
have  yet  an  opportunity  of  doing  what  I  can,  and  of  tempt 
ing  him  at  least  for  the  space  of  one  day  before  he  dies.  If 
he  resist  courageously,  let  him  go  free  ;  if  he  yield  to  mj 
efforts,  he  must  remain  under  my  power. 

14  The  other  wrong  which  I  have  suffered  from  Thy 
Mother  is  that  when  the  sonl  of  Charles  had  quitted  the 
body,  she  took  it  in  her  arms,  and  herself  brought  it  before. 
Thy  tribunal ;  nor  would  she  allow  me  to  enter  and  lay  my 
charges  before  Thee,  although  it  is  my  office  to  prove  the 
guilt  of  departed  souls.  The  judgment  pronounced  was 
therefore  invalid,  for  one  of  the  parties  remained  unheard; 
and  this  is  against  siH  the  laws  of  God,  and  even  of  men." 

The  Blessod  Virgin  made  reply  to  this  complaint  that, 
although  Satan  be  the  father  of  lies,  yet  on  this  occasion, 
speaking  in  presence  of  the  Everlasting  Truth,  he  had  made 
a  truthful  statement,  but  that  she  had  shown  extraordinary 
favor  to  the  soul  of  Charles  because  he  had  loved  her  ten 
derly,  and  had  every  day  recommended  himself  to  her  pro 
tection  ;  because,  too,  he  had  always  rejoiced  when  he 
thought  of  her  greatness,  and  had  ever  been  most  ready  to 
give  his  life  for  her  honor. 

In  the  end  the  divine  Judge  pronounced  sentence  as 
follows :  "  The  Blessed  Virgin  rules  in  my  kingdom,  not  as 
the  other  saints,  but  as  my  Mother,  as  Queen  and  Mistress  ; 
and  hence  to  her  it  is  granted  to  dispense  with  general  laws 
as  often  as  there  is  a  just  cause.  There  was  a  most  just 
reason  for  dispensing  with  the  soul  of  Charles ;  for  it  was 
right  that  ono  who  had  in  his  lifetime  so  honored  and 
loved  her  should  bo  honored  and  favored  in  his  death." 
Sayiag  this,  He  imposed  on  the  demon  a  perpetual  silence 


530  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF 

as  to  this  case.     From  this  St.  Bridget  understood  that  her 
son  had  attained  the  bliss  of  Paradise. 

Ah  !  how  truly  does  St.  Alphonsus  de  Liguori  assert  that 
"'the  salvation  of  all  depends  upon  preaching  Mary,  and 
confidence  in  her  intercession."  We  know  that  St.  Bernard 
of  Sienna  sanctified  Italy ;  St.  Dominic  converted  many 
provinces;  St.  Louis  Bertrand,  in  all  his  sermons,  never 
failed  to  exhort  his  hearers  to  practise  devotion  towards 
Mary ;  and  many  others  have  done  the  same. 

Father  Paul  Segneri,  the  younger,  a  celebrated  mission 
ary,  in  every  mission  in  which  he  was  engaged,  preached  a 
sermon  on  devotion  to  Mary,  and  this  he  called  his  favorite 
sermon.  The  Eedemptorist  Fathers  also  have  an  invariable 
rule  not  to  omit  in  their  missions  the  sermon  on  Our  Lady ; 
and  it  is  found  that  no  discourse  is  so  profitable  to  the 
people,  or  excites  more  compunction  among  them,  than  that 
on  the  power  and  mercy  of  Mary.  To  try  to  make  the 
people  good  without  inspiring  them  with  love  for  the 
Blessed  Virgin  is  to  labor  in  vain.  The  better  the  people 
are  made  to  understand  what  God  has  given  us  in  Mary, 
the  sooner  they  will  lay  aside  their  evil  habits  and  practise 
virtue.  For  no  sooner  do  they  commence  to  love  Mary  and 
pray  to  her  than  they  open  their  hearts  to  the  largest  channel 
of  grace. 

In  the  year  1835  the  communions  in  a  certain  parish  in 
the  city  of  Paris,  containing  a  population  of  twenty-seven 
thousand,  did  not  exceed  seven  hundred.  The  good  parish 
priest  set  to  work  to  remedy  this  deplorable  state  of  things  ; 
he  formally  placed  the  charge  committed  to  him  under  the 
protection  of  Mary,  and  instituted  her  confraternity  among 
his  people.  In  the  year  1837  the  communions  amounted  to 
nine  thousand  five  hundred ;  and  each  succeeding  year  they 
have  become  more  numerous. 

The  spirit  of  infidelity  and  religious  indifference  is  spread 
ing  rapidly  in  every  direction.  All  the  ills  which  an  im- 


THE  BL  ESSKD  Vm  a  rx  MA RY.  531 

•Aural  and  infidel  press  entails  upon  society,  all  the  crimes 
arising  from  a  godless  education,  menace  the  destruction  of 
every  vestige  of  Christian  modesty,  piety,  and  innocence. 
Nothing  better  can  be  opposed  to  this  infernal  serpent 
thi,a  IOTC  and  devotion  towards  her  whose  'office  it  is  to 
•-/rush  the  serpent's  head  whenever  it  makes  itself  risi 
ble. 

Of  ail  the  sinners  who,  by  favor  of  Our  Lady,  attained  to 
an  extraordinary  degree  of  perfection,  there  was  probably 
none  more  privileged  than  St.  Mary  of  Egypt.  It  was 
through  her  devotion  to  Our  Lady  that  she  began,  con 
tinued,  and  brought  to  a  happy  end  the  career  of  her 
perfection,  and  emerged  from  the  abyss  of  degradation  in 
which  she  lay  to  the  sublimest  heights  of  sanctity.  Before 
her  conversion  she  was  a  snare  which  entrapped  every  heart 
to  enslave  it  to  sin  and  to  the  devil ;  a  net  of  which  the 
devil  made  use  to  capture  souls  and  to  people  hell.  When 
the  abbot  St.  Zosirnus  found  her  in  the  wilderness  of 
Egypt,  he  requested  her  to  give  him  an  account  of  her  life. 
This  she  gave  in  the  following  words : 

"I  ought  to  die  with  confusion  and  shame  in  telling  you 
what  I  am ;  so  horrible  is  the  very  mention  of  it  that  you 
will  fly  from  me  as  from  a  serpent ;  your  ears  will  not  be 
able  to  bear  the  recital  of  the  crimes  of  which  I  have  been 
guilty.  I  will,  however,  relate  to  you  my  ignominy,  beg 
ging  of  you  to  pray  for  me,  that  God  may  show  me  mercy 
in  the  day  of  His  terrible  judgment.  My  country  is  Egypt. 
When  my  father  and  mother  were  still  living,  at  twelve 
years  of  age  I  went  without  their  consent  to  Alexandria. 
1  cannot  think,  without  trembling,  on  the  fir^t  steps  by' 
which  I  fell  into  sin,  nor  on  my  disorders  which  followed." 
She  then  described  how  she  lived  a  public  prostitute  seven 
teen  years,  not  for  interest,  but  to  gratify  an  unbridled 
lust ;  she  added  :  "  I  continued  my  wicked  course  till  the 
twenty-ninth  year  of  my  age,  when,  perceiving  several  per- 


o32  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  of 

sons  making  towards  the  sea,  I  enquired  whither  they  were 
going,  and  I  was  told  they  were  about  to  embark  for  the 
Holy  Laud,  to  celebrate  at  Jerusalem  the  feast  of  the  Exalta 
tion  of  the  glorious  Cross  of  our  Saviour.  I  embarked  wiMi 
them,  looking  only  for  fresh  opportunities  to  continue  my 
debauches,  which  I  repeated  both  during  the  voyage  and 
after  my  arrival  at  Jerusalem.  On  the  day  appointed  for 
the  festival,  all  going  to  church,  I  mixed  with  the  crowd 
to  get  into  the  church  where  the  holy  cross  was  shown  and 
exposed  to  the  veneration  of  the  faithful,  but  found  myself 
withheld  from  entering  the  place  by  some  secret  but  invisi 
ble  force.  This  happening  to  me  three  or  four  times,  I 
retired  into  a  corner  of  the  court,  and  began  to  consider 
with  myself  what  this  might  proceed  from,  and,  seriously 
reflecting  that  my  criminal  life  might  be  the  cause,  I  melted 
into  tears.  Beating,  therefore,  my  sinful  breast,  with  sighs 
and  groans,  I  perceived  above  me  a  picture  of  the  Mother 
of  God.  Fixing  my  eyes  upon  it,  I  addressed  myself  to  that 
holy  Virgin,  begging  of  her,  by  her  incomparable  purity,  to 
succor  me,  defiled  with  such  a  load  of  abominations,  and  to 
render  my  repentance  the  more  acceptable  to  God.  I  be 
sought  her  that  I  might  be  suffered  to  enter  the  church  doors 
to  behold  the  sacred  wood  of  my  redemption  ;  promising  from 
that  moment  to  consecrate  myself  to  God  by  a  life  of  pen 
ance,  taking  her  for  my  surety  in  this  change  of  my  heart. 
After  this  ardent  prayer,  I  perceived  in  my  soul  a  secret 
consolation  under  my  grief  ;  and  attempting  again  to  enter 
the  dmrch,  I  went  up  with  ease  into  the  very  middle  of  it, 
and  had  the  comfort  to  venerate  the  precious  wood  of  the 
glorious  cross  which  brings  life  to  man.  Considering,  there 
fore,  the  incomprehensible  mercy  of  God,  and  His  readiness 
to  receive  sinners  to  repentance,  I  cast  myself  on  the  ground, 
and,  after  having  kissed  the  pavement  with  tears,  I  arose 
and  went  to  the  picture  of  the  Mother  of  God,  whom  I  had 
made  the  witness  and  surety  of  my  engagements  and  reso- 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MART.  533 

.  Falling  there  on  my  knees  before  the  image,  I 
addressed  :ny  prayers  to  her,  begging  her  intercession,  and 
that  she  would  be  my  guide.  After  my  prayer  I  seemed  to 
hear  t-hJ.s  voice  :  '  If  thou  goest  beyond  the  Jordan,  thou 
slialt  there  find  rest  and  comfort.'  Then,  weeping  and 
looking  Gn  the  image,  I  begged  of  the  holy  Queen  of  the 
world  that  she  would  never  abandon  me.  After  these 
words  I  went  out  in  haste,  bought  three  loaves,  and,  asking 
the  baker  which  was  the  gate  of  the  city  which  led  to  the 
Jordan,  I  immediately  took  that  road,  and  walked  all  the 
rest  of  the  day,  and  at  night  arrived  at  the  Church  of  St. 
John  Baptist,  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  There  I  paid  my 
devotions  to  God,  and  received  the  precious  Body  of  our 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  Having  eaten  the  one-half  of  one  of 
my  loaves,  I  slept  all  night  on  the  ground.  Next  morning, 
recommending  myself  to  the  holy  Virgin,  I  passed  the 
Jordan,  and  from  that  time  I  have  carefully  shunned  the 
meeting  of  any  human  creature." 

Zosimus  asked  how  long  she  had  lived  in  that  desert.  "  It 
is,"  said  she,  "as  near  as  I  can  judge,  forty-seven  years." 
"And  what  have  you  lived  upon  all  that  time  ?"  replied 
Zosimus.  "  The  loaves  I  took  with  me,"  answered  she, 
"  lasted  me  some  time  ;  since  that  I  have  had  no  other  food 
hut  what  this  wild  and  uncultivated  solitude  afforded  me. 
My  clothes  being  worn  out,  I  suffered  severely  from  the 
heat  and  cold."  "And  have  you  passed  so  many  years," 
said  the  holy  man,  "  without  suffering  much  in  your  soul  ?" 
She  answered  :  "  Your  question  makes  me  tremble  by  the 
very  remembrance  of  my  past  dangers  and  conflicts,  through 
the  peiverseness  of  my  heart.  Seventeen  years  I  passed  in 
most  violent  temptations  and  almost  perpetual  conflicts 
with  n.y  in: rdinate  desires.  I  was  tempted  to  regret  the 
fleth  and  f.sh  of  Egypt,  and  the  wines  which  I  drank  in  the 
world  to  excess;  whereas  here  I  often  could  not  have  a  drop 
of  water  to  quench  my  thirst.  Other  desires  made  assaults 


534  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OP 

on  my  mind  ;  but,  weeping  and  striking  my  breast  on  thoso 
occasions,  I  called  to  mind  the  vows  I  had  made  under  the 
protection  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  begged  her  to  obtain 
my  deliverance  from  the  affliction  and  danger  of  such 
thoughts.  After  long  weeping  and  bruising  rny  body  with 
blows,  I  found  myself  suddenly  enlightened  and  my  mind 
restored  to  a  perfect  calm.  Often  the  tyranny  of  my  old 
passions  seemed  ready  to  drag  me  out  of  my  desert  ;  at  those 
times  I  threw  myself  on  the  ground  and  watered  it  with  my 
tears,  raising  my  heart  continually  to  the  Blessed  Virgin 
till  she  procured  me  comfort ;  and  she  has  never  failed  to 
show  herself  my  faithful  protectress."  Zosimus  taking 
notice  that  in  her  discourse  with  him  she  from  time  to  time 
made  use  of  Scripture  phrases,  asked  her  if  she  had  ever  ap 
plied  herself  to  the  study  of  the  sacred  books.  Her  answer 
was  that  she  could  not  even  read  ;  neither  had  she  conversed 
nor  seen  any  human  creature  since  she  came  into  the  desert 
till  that  day  that  could  teach  her  to  read  the  Holy  Scrip 
ture  or  read  it  to  her ;  but  "it  is  God,"  said  she,  "  that 
teacheth  man  knowledge.  Thus  have  I  given  you  a  full 
account  of  myself;  keep  what  I  have  told  you  as  an  inviola 
ble  secret  during  my  life,  and  allow  me,  the  most  misera 
ble  of  sinners,  a  share  in  jour  prayers. " 

We  can  say  that  in  the  penitential  life  led  by  this  saint  in 
this  solitude  she  had  no  other  teacher,  no  other  guide,  than 
the  all-holy,  all-merciful  Virgin,  to  whom  she  ever  had  re 
course  ;  it  was  under  Mary's  guidance  that  she  overcame  the 
most  fearful  temptations  and  withstood  the  most  violent 
assaults  that  hell  could  make  against  her;  faith  in  Mary 
triumphed  over  all  feeling  of  weariness,  trampled  under 
foot  the  repugnance  of  poor  weak  nature,  and  enabled  her 
to  persevere  constantly  for  forty-seven  years,  leaving  to  the 
world  an  ideal  of  perfect  penance,  a  pattern  of  the  most 
eminent  sanctity,  and  a  most  convincing  proof  that  there  is 
no  means  more  powerful  than  devotion  to  Mary  to  raise  up 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MART.  535 

any  soul,  however  fallen  and  weighed  down  by  sin,  to  the 
height  of  perfection. 

A  great  power  is  evidently  within  our  reach,  placed  by 
the  care  of  God  at  our  disposal,  to  assist  us  in  our  struggles 
against  sin,  to  raise  us  when  we  fall,  to  carry  us  on  to  emi 
nent  perfection.  It  is  easy  of  access;  it  lies  at  our  door;  it 
is  within  the  instantaneous  reach  of  all,  even  of  children. 
That  power  is  the  influence  of  Mary  and  its  employment  in 
the  work  of  our  salvation.  We  may  not  reject  its  powerful 
assistance ;  nothing  can  be  safely  neglected  that  God  has 
designed  to  make  so  perilous  a  work  more  sure.  We  may 
not  throw  away  the  aid  thus  offered,  nor  think  to  fight  our 
way  through  the  ranks  of  our  spiritual  foes  without  obliga 
tions  to  her,  nor  to  speed  on  in  our  heavenward  course  with 
out  her  helping  hand.  The  heat  of  the  battle  will  overcome 
us,  the  length  of  the  way  will  exhaust  us,  unless  she  buoy 
up  our  steps  and  refresh  us  when  we  are  weary.  God's 
grace  is  free  and  strong  ;  but  if  she  is  the  channel  through 
which  it  must  flow,  it  will  not  reach  us  but  through  her. 
We  are  not  greater  than  Jesus,  yet  He  made  Himself  her 
debtor;  we  are  not  stronger  than  He,  and  yet  she  was 
appointed  to  minister  to  His  infantine  weakness.  Even  if 
we  could  struggle  through  without  her  support,  we  should 
be  outstripped  in  our  course  by  many  who  started  later  and 
with  many  more  disadvantages ;  our  passage  would  be  joy 
less  ;  hope  would  shine  dimly  on  the  future. 

What  knowledge  have  we  of  the  assaults  of  our  spiritual 
enemies  that  may  lie  before  us,  perhaps  in  the  hour  of 
death.  What  security  have  we  that  if  Mary  does  not  assist 
us  then,  we  shall  not  be  lost  ?  It  is  for  this  reason  that 
devotion  to  Mary  is  declared  by  eminent  theologians  to  be 
a  great  sign  of  predestination,  on  account  of  the  manifold 
assistance  which  is  thus  secured  in  its  attainment. 

In  the  Chronicles  of  the  Friars  Minor  *  we  read  that 
»  Lib.  iv.  cap.  xvii 


536  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF 

Brother  Leo,  a  familiar  companion  of  St.  Francis,  had  the 
following  vision  :      The   servant   of    God  beheld    himself 
placed  on  a  sudden  in  the  middle  of  a  vast  plain.     There  he 
beheld  the  judgment  of  Almighty  God.     Angels  were  flying 
to  and  fro,  sounding  their  trumpets  and  gathering  together 
countless  multitudes  of  people.     On  this  vast  field  he  saw 
two  high  ladders,  the  one  white,  the  other  red,  which  reach 
ed  from  earth  to  the  skies.     At  the  top  of  the  red  ladder 
stood  Jesus  Christ  with  a  countenance  full  of  just  indigna 
tion.     On  one  of  the  steps,  somewhat  lower,  stood  the  holy 
patriarch  St.  Francis,  who  cried  aloud  to  his  brethren  on 
the  plain  below :  "  Come  hither,  brethren  ;  come  without 
fear;  hasten  to  Christ,  who  is  calling  you."     Encouraged  by 
these   words   of  their   holy   father,   the   religious   crowded 
round  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  and  began  to  mount.     Some 
readied    the   third   step,  and   others  the   tenth  ;  some  ad 
vanced  to  the  middle;  but  all  sooner  or  later  lost  their  foot 
ing   and  fell  wretchedly  to   the  ground.     St.  Francis,  be 
holding  so  deplorable  a  fall,  turned  to  our  Lord  and  ear 
nestly  besought  Him  to  grant  salvation  to  His  children.     But 
the  Eedeemer  yielded  not  to  the  prayers  of  the  saint.     Then 
the  holy  patriarch  went  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  ladder, 
and  said  with  great  fervor,  "Do  not  despair,  brethren  of 
mine ;  run  to  the  white  ladder,  and  mount  it  with  great 
courage.     Fear  not ;  by  it  you  will   enter  into   Paradise." 
Whilst  he  was  thus  speaking,  the  Blessed  Virgin  appeared 
at   the   top  of  the  white  ladder,  crowned  with  glory  and 
beaming  with  gentleness.     And   the  friars,  mounting   the 
ladder  by  favor  of  Mary,  made  their  way,  and  all  happily 
entered  into  the  glories  of  Paradise.     We  may  learn  from 
this  how  true  is  the  sentiment  of  St.  Ignatius  the  Martyr : 
"That  the  mercy  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary  saves  those 
whom  God's  justice  does  not  save."     Ah  !  let  us  hearken  to 
the  words  of  this  saint  ;  let  us  hearken  to  our  Lord  while 
He  says  to  us  from  His  throne  in  heaven  :  "  I  am  the  eternal 


THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MART.  537 

Wisdom.  I  have  come  upon  earth  only  through  Mary  ; 
through  her  I  have  effected  the  redemption  of  mankind.  If 
tliou  desirest  wisdom  and  sanctity,  call  on  Mary  ;  for  through 
her  I  will  give  it  to  thee."  It  was  through  her  that  Ku- 
pert  the  abbot,  Albert  the  Great,  Hermannus  Contractus,  and 
many  others  destitute  of  learning  and  talents  became  doc 
tors  in  philosophy,  theology,  Holy  Scripture,  and  other 
branches  of  science.  "  Thou  art  my  child ;  I,  therefore,  am 
thy  Father,  but  Mary  is  thy  Mother.  Thou  art  weak;  I  am 
the  Lord,  that  giveth  strength  and  help  in  all  thy  necessi 
ties. 

"  Thou  art  a  sinful  man,  but  I  am  thy  God,  full  of  love 
and  mercy  ;  Mary  is  the  refuge  of  sinners,  through  whose 
mediation  thou  wilt  obtain  mercy.  Thou  aspirest  after 
heaven ;  behold,  I  am  the  King  of  Heaven.  Mary  is  the 
Queen  of  Heaven.  In  order  to  obtain  for  thee  access  to  this 
heavenly  kingdom,  thou  art  bound  to  become  holy.  I  am 
the  living  fountain  of  all  grace,  and  holiness  ;  but  it  is  Mary 
who  has  the  office  of  dispensing  my  graces.  If  thou,  then, 
my  child,  desirest  to  obtain  graces  and  glory  in  heaven,  what 
hast  thou  to  do  ?  Call  on  Mary.  Love  and  honor  Mary. 
Through  her  I  will  listen  to  thy  prayers  and  give  ear  to  thy 
sighs.  I  will  show  her  that  I  am  her  Son;  and  she  will 
show  thee  that  she  is  thy  Mother.  My  Mother  is  the  gate 
of  heaven ;  through  her  all  gifts  and  graces  descend  on 
earth  ;  through  her  all  the  saints  ascend  to  me  into  heaven. 

"Accomplish,  then,  my  will  by  endeavoring  with  all  thy 
power  to  promote  the  honor  of  my  Mother.  Extol  her  at 
all  times  and  in  all  places,  in  season  and  out  of  season ; 
wherever  thou  art,  praise  and  extol  her,  and  cause  others  to 
do  the  same.  Impossible  for  thee  to  give  my  Mother  more 
honor,  interior  and  exterior,  than  is  her  due.  What  is  thy 
feeble  love  and  honor  compared  to  that  which  she  receives 
from  me  ?  As  thy  love  for  thy  fellow-men  is  but  a  shadow 
of  my  love  for  men,  so  thy  special  love  for  Mary  is  but  a 


538  THE  POWER  AND  MERCY  OF  MARY. 

shadow,  a  faint,  attenuated  shadow,  of  my  love  for  her  ;  for 
my  sake,  if  thou  wouldst  please  me,  reverence  her  as  much 
as  thou  canst.  If  thou  hast  hitherto  served  Mary,  try  to 
serve  her  still  more  fervently;  if  thou  hast  loved  her,  en 
deavor  to  love  her  still  more  ardently.  Happy  that  Chris 
tian  who  serves  Mary  and  at  the  same  time  tries  to  make 
others  serve  her  !  Happy  that  Christian  family  in  which 
Mary  is  truly  honored ;  I  will  give  it  salvation  and  benedio- 
tion.  I  will  give  it  grace  bx.  the  present  life  and  glory  in 
the  life  to  come." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 
THE  PRODIGAL'S  BROTHER — HAPPINESS  OF  THE  JUST. 

IONG  ago  God  uttered  a  remarkable  prophecy :  "  I  shall 
^  espouse  thee  for  ever,  saith  the  Lord.  I  shall  espouse 
thee  in  justice ;  I  shall  espouse  thee  in  mercy ;  I  shall  es 
pouse  thee  in  faith."  This  prophecy  was  not  then  under 
stood  ;  but  when  the  Son  of  God  came  upon  earth  to  recon 
cile  poor  sinners  to  His  Heavenly  Father,  to  establish  a  new 
nice — a  race  of  the  just — then  it  was  that  this  prophecy  was 
not  only  understood  but  fulfilled,  and  its  fulfilment  con 
tinues,  and  will  continue  to  the  end  of  time. 

In  order  to  show  us  the  reality  of  these  spiritual  espou 
sals,  our  divine  Redeemer  has  often  appeared  to  holy  souls 
in  a  visible  form,  and  espoused  them  in  a  visible  manner. 
One  day,  during  the  time  of  carnival,  the  pious  virgin  St. 
Catharine  of  Sienna  was  praying  in  her  cell.  Her  relatives 
and  neighbors  were  amusing  themselves  according  to  the  cus 
tom  of  the  season ;  but  she  sought  her  pleasure  in  God  alone. 
On  a  sudden  our  Blessed  Saviour  appeared  to  her  and  said  : 
"  Because  thou  hast  shunned  the  vanities  and  forbidden  plea 
sures  of  the  world,  and  hast  fixed  thy  heart  on  Me  alone,  I 
shall  now  espouse  thee  in  faith  and  unite  thy  soul  to  mine." 
Then  St.  Catharine  looked  up  and  saw  beside  our  Saviour 
the  Blessed  Mother  of  God.  She  also  saw  there  St.  John 
the  Evangelist,  St.  Paul  the  Apostle,  and  St.  Dominic,  the 
founder  of  her  order.  The  Prophet  David,  too,  was  pre 
sent  at  her  espousals,  and  played  on  his  harp  with  marvel 
lous  sweetness.  The  Blessed  Virgin  Mary  now  took  the  right 
hand  of  St.  Catharine,  and  presented  her  to  our  Blessed 
Saviour.  She  besought  her  divine  Son  to  accept  this  virgin 

589 


540  THE  PRODIGAL'S  BROTHER: 

for  His  spouse.  Then  Jesus  smiled  graciously  upon  the 
saint.  He  drew  forth  a  golden  ring,  set  with  four  precious 
stones,  in  the  centre  of  which  blazed  a  magnificent  diamond. 
He  then  placed  this  ring  upon  the  finger  of  St.  Catharine, 
and  said  :  "I,  thy  Creator  and  Redeemer,  espouse  tliee  in 
faith.  Be  faithful  until  death,  and  we  shall  celebrate  our 
nuptials  in  heaven."  The  vision  disappeared,  but  the  ring 
remained  on  the  finger  of  St.  Catharine.  She  could  always 
see  it ;  but,  by  a  special  grace,  it  was  invisible  to  others. 

0  pure  and  holy  soul !  I  speak  now  especially  to  you 
whose  heart  is  yet  gleaming  with  the  glory  of  purity  with 
which  it  was  endowed  in  holy  baptism — to  you  who  can  say 
with  the  good  brother  of  the  prodigal:  "Father,  I  have 
never  transgressed  thy  commandment "  ;  to  you  to  whom 
your  Heavenly  Father  says  what  the  father  of  the  prodigal 
said  to  his  faithful  son:  "Son,  tliou  art  always  with  me, 
and  all  I  have  is  thine."  *  And  what  I  say  to  you  who  have 
always  been  pure  and  undefiled  I  wish  also  to  say  to  him 
who  lost  his  baptismal  innocence  by  sin,  but  has  recovered 
again  the  grace  and  friendship  of  Almighty  God  by  a  good, 
confession.  When  you  made  that  sincere,  sorrowful  con 
fession  of  all  your  sins  ;  when  the  priest,  in  the  name  of 
Jesus  Christ,  pronounced  the  words  of  absolution  over  you, 
oh  !  then  it  was  that  a  touching  scene  between  God  and 
your  soul  was  witnessed  by  the  angels  of  heaven — a  scene 
like  that  which  was  witnessed  by  the  servants  of  the  good 
father  when  he  went  to  meet  his  prodigal  son:  "And 
when  the  prodigal  was  yet  a  great  way  off,  his  father  saw 
him,  and  was  moved  with  compassion,  and  running  to  him  " 
— 0  promptitude  to  pardon! — "fell  upon  his  neck  and 
kissed  him  " — 0  touching  tenderness! — "  and  he  said  :  Bring 
forth  quickly  the  first  robe,  and  put  it  on  him,  and  put  a 
ring  on  his  hand  and  shoes  on  his  feet  " — 0  fulness  of  grace! 
— "  and  kill  the  fatted  calf,  and  let  us  eat  and  make  merry  " 
*  Luke  xv.  81. 


HAPPINESS  OF  THE  JUST.  641 

— 0  banquet  of  joy  and  gladness  !  Ah  !  dear  Cliristian 
soul,  when  your  Heavenly  Father  dissembled,  as  it  were, 
your  sins  to  draw  you  to  vinue  and  penance  ;  when,  in  His 
mercy,  He  recalled  you  from  the  country  of  spiritual  famine 
and  misery ;  when  He  received  you  in  confession  and  em. 
braoed  you  in  Holy  Communion  with  unspeakable  tender 
ness,  ah  !  then  it  was  that  He  clothed  your  soul  with  the 
first  robe- -the  robe  of  divine  grace  ;  then  it  was  that  lie 
put  on  your  hand  a  precious  ring — the  ring  of  your  birth 
right  to  heaven  ;  then  it  was  that  He  put  shoes  on  your 
feet—  the  merits  of  your  good  works  and  the  liberty  of  the 
child  re  a  oJ  God,  which  you  had  lost  by  your  folly  ;  then  it 
was  that  B.e  gave  you  the  kiss  of  peace — the  consoling  assu- 
ranoe  of  your  heavy  debts  being  cancelled  and  forgiven ; 
ah  !  thou  it  was  that  the  angels  sounded,  as  it  were,  the 
jubilee  Irumpet;  you  heard  its  joyous  notes  proclaiming 
res!  to  your  wearied  heart,  redemption  to  your  spiritual 
captivil.y,  grace  and  salvation  to  your  erring  soul.  Ah  ! 
then  your  soul  was  the  joyful  guest  of  a  great  banquet; 
then  you  celebrated  the  year  of  the  jubilee.  Mark  that 
year  ;  mark  the  month  of  that  year;  never  forget  the  day, 
the  hour,  of  that  month  when  you  were  permitted  "to  go 
back  to  your  family  " — to  the  number  of  the  elect ;  when 
you  were  permitted  "to  return  to  your  former  possession" 
— to  the  ownership  of  all  the  rights  and  privileges  of  the 
children  of  God.  Oh  !  for  the  love  of  your  Heavenly 
Father  be  now  mindful  of  your  dignity.  You  are  a  child 
of  (rod,  heir  of  heaven,  a  spouse  of  Jesus  Christ,  a  temple 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Yes,  this  is  the  dignity  to  which  God 
has  restorod  you.  I  have  said,  in  a  foregoing  chapter,  that 
thore  iw,  i  i  God  the  Father,  an  infinite  desire  of  communi- 
eating  Himself  and  all  His  goods.  I  have  said  that  in  thia 
lo\e  He  generated,  from  all  eternity,  His  only-begotten  Son. 
This  is  undoubtedly  the  greatest  act  of  His  infinite 
charity. 


542  THE  PRO  DJ  GAL'S  H  it  OTHER: 

But  this  Heavenly  Father  still  continues  to  beget,  in 
time,  children  who  are  by  grace  what  the  Son  of  God  is  by 
nature  ;  so  that  our  sonship  bears  the  greatest  resemblance 
to  the  divine  Sonship.  Hence  St. 'Paul  writes:  "Whom 
He  foreknew  He  also  predestined  to  be  made  conformable 
to  the  image  of  His  Son,  that  He  might  be  the  first-born 
amongst  many  brethren.  "  * 

Behold  the  great  things  which  divine  love  effects  !  We 
are  the  sons  of  God,  as  the  Holy  Scripture  says  :  "Ye  arc 
the  sons  of  the  living  God."f  In  this  divine  adoption 
there  are  infused  into  the  soul,  not  only  the  grace,  the 
chanty,  and  other  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  but  the  Holy 
Ghost  Himself,  who  is  the  first  and  uncreated  gift  that  God 
gives  to  Christians. 

In  justifying  and  sanctifying  us  God  might  infuse  into 
our  souls  His  grace  and  charity  to  such  a  degree  only  as 
would  render  us  simply  just  and  holy,  without  adopting  us 
as  His  children.  This  grace  of  simple  justification  would 
no  doubt  be,  in  itself,  a  very  great  gift,  it  being  a  participa 
tion  in  the  divine  nature  in  a  very  high  degree  ;  so  that,  in 
all  truth,  we  could  exclaim  with  the  Blessed  Virgin  :  "Fecit 
mild  magna,  qui  potens  est — He  that  is  mighty  has  done 
great  things  to  me."  \ 

But  to  give  us  only  such  a  degree  of  grace  and  participa 
tion  in  His  divine  nature  is  not  enough  for  the  love  of  God. 
The  grace  of  adoption  is  bestowed  upon  us  in  so  high  a  de 
gree  as  to  make  us  really  children  of  God. 

But  even  this  measure  of  the  grace  of  adoption  might  be 
bestowed  upon  us  by  God  in  such  a  manner  only  as  to  give 
by  it  no  more  than  His  charity,  grace,  and  created  gifts. 
This  latter  grace  of  adoption  would  certainly  surpass  the 
former  of  simple  justification ;  so  that,  in  all  truth,  we  might 
again  exclaim  with  the  Mother  of  God  :  "  Fecit  potentiam 
in  brachio  suo — He  hath  showed  might  in  His  arm."§ 
»  Rom.  Ytii.  39.  f  Osee  i.  10.  J  Luke  i.  49.  §  Lake  fc  51. 


HAPPINESS  OF  THE  JUST.  543 

But  neither  is  this  gift,  great  though  it  be,  great  enough 
for  the  charity  which  God  bears  us.  God,  in  His  immense 
charity  for  us,  wishes  to  bestow  greater  things  upon  us,  in 
order  to  raise  us  still  higher  in  grace  and  in  the  participa 
tion  in  His  divine  nature.  Hence  He  goes  so  far  as  to  give 
Himself  to  us,  so  that  He  might  sanctify  and  adopt  us  in 
person. 

The  Holy  Ghost  unites  Himself  to  his  gifts,  his  grace, 
and  his  charity,  so  that,  when  infusing  these  gifts  into  oui 
souls,  He  infuses,  together  with  them,  Himself  really  in 
person.  On  this  account  St.  Paul  writes:  "The  charity  oi 
God  is  poured  forth  in  our  hearts  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  who 
is  qiven  to  us" *  On  this  very  account  the  same  Apostle 
calls  the  Holy  Ghost  the  Spirit  of  adoption.  "  For  you 
have  not  received,"  says  he,  "  the  spirit  of  bondage  again 
in  fear :  but  you  have  received  the  Spirit  of  adoption  of 
children,  whereby  we  cry,  Abba,  Father.  For  the  Spirit 
Himself  giveth  testimony  to  our  spirit,  that  we  are  the 
children  of  God;  and  if  children,  heirs  also:  heirs  indeed 
of  God,  and  joint-heirs  with  Christ."  f  And  :  "  Whoever 
are  led  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  they  are  the  children  of  God."  J 

This  divine  charity  and  grace  is,  no  doubt,  the  height  of 
God's  charity  for  us,  and  is  also,  at  the  same  time,  the 
height  of  our  dignity  and  exaltation  ;  because,  on  receiving 
these  divine  gifts,  we  receive  at  the  same  time  the  person  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  who  unites  Himself  to  these  gifts,  as  I 
have  said,  and  by  them  lives  in  us,  adopts  us,  deifies  us, 
and  urges  us  on  to  the  performance  of  every  good  work. 

Truly,  the  love  and  liberality  of  God  effect  great  things  ! 
But  even  this  is  not  all;  we  receive  still  greater  favors.  In 
coming  personally  into  the  soul  the  Holy  Ghost  is  accom 
panied  by  the  other  divine  Persons  also — the  Father  and  the 
Son,  from  whom  He  cannot  be  separated.  Therefore,  in  the 
•ct  of  justification,  the  three  divine  Persons  come  person- 
*  Rom.  v.  5.  t  Rom.  vili.  15.  $  Galat.  iv,  6. 


544  Tss  PRODI&AL'M 

ally  and  really  into  the  soul,  as  into  their  temple,  living  and 
dwelling  therein  as  long  as  the  soul  perseveres  in  the  grace 
of  God.  For  this  reason  St.  John  writes :  "He  that 
abideth  in  charity  abideth  in  God,  and  God  in  him."  St. 
Paul  writes  the  same  thing :  "  He  who  is  joined  to  God 
is  one  spirit."  * 

Our  blessed  Lord  Himself  assures  us  that  "  the  king 
dom  of  God  is  within  us."  Now,  what  do  we  mean  by  a 
kingdom  ?  Look  for  a  moment  at  the  kingdoms  of  Europe, 
with  their  vast  dominions,  their  great  power  and  wealth. 
Among  the  cities  of  these  kingdoms,  there  is  usually  one 
more  populous  than  the  rest,  where  the  streets  are  laid  out, 
and  the  public  buildings  and  the  private  houses  erected  in 
a  most  magnificent  manner.  It  is  generally  in  this  city  that 
the  royal  palace  is  built.  The  exterior  of  the  palace  is 
adorned  in  .a  manner  befitting  the  king,  and  the  interior  is 
enriched  with  gold  and  silver,  polished  wood,  rich  silks  and 
tapestry,  rare  statues  and  paintings,  the  choicest  works  of 
art.  JSTow,  the  soul  of  the  just  man  is  something  far  more 
noble,  far  more  beautiful,  than  this  royal  palace.  The  soul, 
when  in  the  state  of  grace,  is  the  palace  of  the  King  of 
kings  ;  it  is  the  dwelling-place  of  the  God  of  heaven  and 
earth.  Holy  angels  are  there  in  attendance  upon  Him,  and 
it  is  there  He  manifests  Himself  to  the  soul,  and  hears  her 
prayers,  and  holds  sweet  communion  with  her. 

Jesus  Christ  obtained  for  us  this  grace  when  He  prayed 
on  the  eve  of  His  Passion:  " Holy  Father,  keep  them  in 
Thy  name,  that  they  all  may  be  one,  as  Thou,  Father,  in 
me,  and  I  in  Thee,  that  they  also  may  be  one  in  us."  f 
Jesus  Christ  asks  of  His  Father  that  all  His  followers 
might  participate  in  the  one  and  in  the  same  Holy  Ghost, 
so  that,  in  Him  and  through  Him,  they  might  be  united  to 
the  other  divine  Persons.  St.  Bonaventure  says  that  the 
viot  only  receive  the  gifts  but  also  the  Person  of  the 
*  1  Cfer.  vl.  17.  +  Jdhn  xvM .  11.  20 . 


HAPPINESS  OF  THE  JUST.  545 

Holy  Ghost.*  The  same  is  taught  by  the  renowned  Master 
of  Sentences,!  who  quotes  St.  Augustine  and  others  in  sup 
port  of  this  doctrine.  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  asserts  the  same 
thing,  J  and  proves  that  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  a  pecu 
liar  gift,  because  it  is  given  to  all  the  just.  "  Grace,"  says 
Suarez,  "establishes  a  most  perfect  friendship  between  God 
and  man  ;  and  such  a  friendship  requires  the  presence  of  the 
friend — that  is,  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  stays  in  the  soul  of 
His  friend,  in  order  to  unite  Himself  most  intimately  with 
him,  and  reside  in  his  soul,  as  in  His  temple,  there  to  be 
honored,  worshipped,  and  loved." 
From  what  has  been  said  it  follows — 

1.  That  the  grace  of  adoption,  or  the  grace  of  justifica 
tion,  by  which  we  are  sanctified  and  adopted  as  the  children 
of  God,  is  something  more  than  a  simple  quality ;  it  implies 
several  things  :  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  faith,  hope,  charity, 
and  other  gifts,  and  even  the  Holy  Ghost  Himself,   the 
Author  of  'all  gifts,  and,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  the 
whole  Blessed  Trinity.    All  this  is  infused  into  the  soul  in 
the  act  of  justification,  as  the  Holy  Church  teaches.  § 

2.  It  follows  that,  by  this  grace  of  adoption,  we  are  raised 
to  the  highest  dignity— namely,  to  the  dignity  of  divine  son- 
ship — so  that,  in  reality,  we  are  the  children  of  God ;  yea, 
even  Gods,  as  it  were,  not  only  accidentally  by  grace,  but 
also  really  by  participation  in  the  divine  nature.     Men  con 
sider  it  a  great  honor  to  have  been  adopted  by  some  noble 
family  ;  but  our  adoption  by  God  is  far  nobler,  far  more 
honorable.     Adopted  children  receive  nothing  of  the  nature 
of  their  adoptive  father.     They  inherit  only  his  name  and 
his  temporal  goods  ;  but  we  receive  from  God  His  grace, 
and  with  His  grace  His  nature.     For  this  reason  God  is 
called  the  Father,  not  only  of  Christ,  but  also  of  us ;  be- 

.  *  1  Sent  d.  14,  a.  2,  9,  1.  t  Lib.  i.  dist.  14,  15. 

$  I.  p.  9,  43,  a.  3,  and  6  and  9,  88  art.  8. 
|  Concil.  Trid.,  Soss.  6,  c.  7. 


546  THE  PRODIGAL'S  BROTHER: 

cause,  through  grace,  He  communicates  to  us  His  nature, 
which  He  has  communicated  to  Christ  by  hypostatic  union, 
thus  making  us  the  brethren  of  His  divine  Son.  St.  Paul 
writes:  "Whom  He  foreknew,  He  also  predestined  to  bo 
made  conformable  to  the  image  of  His  Son,  that  He  might 
be  the  first-born  amongst  many  brethren."  *  And  St.  John 
says  in  his  Gospel :  "  He  gave  them  power  to  be  made  the 
sons  of  God,  to  them  that  believe  in  His  name,  who  are 
born  not  of  blood,  .  .  .  but  of  God."  f 

3.  By  this  grace  of  adoption  we  receive  an  undisputed 
title  to  the  possession  of  heaven. 

4.  From  this  grace  of  adoption  all  our  works  and  merits 
derive  their  admirable  dignity.     This  adoption  of  children 
of  God  confers  upon  all  our  works  the  greatest  dignity  and 
value,  making  them  truly  deserving  of  eternal  reward  ;  since 
they  proceed,  as  it  were,  from  God  Himself  and  from  His 
divine  Spirit,  who  lives  in  us,  and  urges  us  on  to  the  per 
formance  of  good  works. 

5.  By  this  grace  of  adoption  the  soul  is  most  intimately 
united  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  thereby  elevated  far  above 
herself,  and,  as  it  were,  deified.  By  thus  communicating 
Himself,  God  raises  the  just  man,  as  it  were,  to  a  level  with 
Himself,  transforming  him  into  Himself,  thus  making 
him,  as  it  were,  divine.  Love  enraptures  the  loving  soul, 
raises  her  above  her,  unites  her  to  the  Beloved,  and  trans 
forms  her  unto  Him,  so  that  being,  as  it  were,  embodied  in 
Him,  she  lives,  feels,  and  rejoices  in  Him  alone. 

6.  This  adoption,  which  commences  here  below  by  grace, 
will  be  rendered  most  perfect  in  heaven,,  where  we  enter 
upon  the  possession  of  God,  who  will  communicate  Himself 
really  to  our  souls  in  a  manner  most  intimate  and  ineffable. 
On  this  account  St.  John  says  :  "  Behold  the  tabernacle  of 
God  with  men,  and  He  will  dwell  with  them.  And  they 
shall  be  His  people ;  and  God  Himself  with  them  shall  be 
*  Rom.  viii.  30  +  John  i.  12. 


HAPPINESS  OF  THE  JUST.  547 

their  God.      He  that  shall  overcome  shall   possess  these 
things,  and  I  will  be  his  God,  and  he  shall  be  my  son."  * 

Who  can,  after  these  reflections,  refrain  from  exclaiming : 
Truly,  the  charity  of  God  is  most  wonderful !  Who  can 
comprehend  its  width,  its  height,  its  depth  ?  It  is  fathom 
less  like  the  Divinity  itself  ! 

There  are  very  few  who  know  it  to  be  as  great  as  it  has 
been  explained.  The  holy  apostles  and  fathers  of  the 
Church  never  ceased  to  inculcate  it  upon  the  hearts  of  the 
Christians.  "Behold,"  exclaims  St.  John  the  Apostle, 
"what  manner  of  charity  the  Father  has  bestowed  upon 
us,  that  we  should  be  called,  and  should  be,  the  sons  of  God ! 
Dearly  beloved,  we  are  now  the  sons  of  God.  .  .  .  We 
know  that  when  He  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  to  Him, 
because  we  shall  see  Him  as  He  is."  f  "  Know  you  not," 
says  St.  Paul,  "  that  your  members  are  the  temple  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  who  is  in  you,  whom  you  have  from  God,  and 
you  are  not  your  own  ?  For  you  are  bought  with  a  great  price. 
Glorify  and  bear  God  in  your  body."  J 

"Our  first  nativity,"  says  St.  Augustine,  §  "  is  derived  from 
men ;  our  second  from  God  and  the  Church.  Behold,  they 
are  born  of  God.  Hence  it  is  that  He  lives  in  us.  Won 
derful  change  !  Admirable  charity  !  For  your  sake,  be 
loved  brethren,  the  Word  was  made  flesh  ;  for  your  sake 
He  who  is  the  Son  of  God  has  become  the  Son  of  man,  in 
order  that  you,  from  being  the  children  of  men,  might  be 
come  the  children  of  God.  For  out  of  the  children  of  men 
He  makes  the  children  of  God,  because,  though  He  was 
the  Son  of  God,  He  became  the  Son  of  man.  Behold  how 
you  partake  of  the  Divinity  !  For  the  Son  of  God  assumed 
our  human  nature,  that  we  might  become  partakers  of  His 
divine  nature.  By  making  you  participate  in  His  Divinity 
He  has  shown  you  His  charity." 

*  Apoc.  xxi.  8.  fl  John  iii.  1,  2.  ?  1  Cor.  vi.  19,  20. 

§  Serm.  24,  De  Tempore,  torn.  10. 


648  THE  PRODIGAL'S  BROTHER: 

Oh  !  how  beautiful  is  a  soul  in  the  state  of  grace  !  In 
deed,  such  a  soul  is  purer  than  silver  and  brighter  than  the 
finest  gold.  She  is  a  lovely  and  radiant  star  in  the  hand  of 
the  Most  High.  Bring  together  all  that  is  beautiful  in 
nature,  and  you  will  find  that  such  a  soul  is  mor>3  beautiful 
than  all.  How  beautiful  is  the  sweet  light  of  morning, 
how  beautiful  are  the  varied  tints  of  the  rainbow;  but  such 
a  soul  is  far  more  beautiful.  The  dazzling  beams  of  the 
noon-day  sun  are  bright  indeed,  but  the  light  that  beams 
from  a  pure  soul  is  far  brighter.  The  silvery  stars  glitter 
brightly  in  the  dark-blue  sky,  but  a  holy  soul  glitters  far 
more  brightly.  The  spring-lily  and  the  fresh-fallen  snow 
look  white  and  pure,  but  the  purity  of  a  holy  scul  is  fur 
whiter;  for  it  is  white  with  the  purity  of  heaven. 

There  is  a  sublime  and  awful  beauty  in  the  rolling  thun 
der  and  in  the  vivid  lightning,  as  it  flashes  through  the 
dark  clouds,  but  there  is  something  far  more  sublime  and 
awful  in  the  beauty  of  a  holy  soul.  There  is  in  her  a 
majesty  on  which  even  angels  gaze  with  fear  and  delight. 
So  marvellously  beautiful  is  such  a  soul  in  the  light  of 
grace  and  glory  that  could  we  but  gaze  on  her,  we  would 
die  of  joy;  for  such  a  soul  is  the  living  image  of  the  living 
God. 

Such,  then,  is  the  dignity,  the  happmess,  of  the  children 
of  God  What  happiness  on  csfth  can  be  compared  to  it  ? 
As  for  myself,  I  know  of  no  greater  comfort  nor  of  any 
more  ravishing  delight  than  that  of  being  in  the  grace  of 
God.  Oh  !  what  sweet  comfort,  what  rapture,  in  this 
thought ! — a  comf ort,-  a  rapturous  happiness,  not  transitory, 
like  the  pleasures  of  the  senses,  but  a  life-long  comfort, 
increasing  in  intensity  in  proportion  to  its  duration. 

But  the  just  man  is  not  only  a  child  of  God ;  he  is  also  a 
brother  to  Jesus  Christ.  Our  divine  Saviour  Himself  has 
assured  us  of  this.  "Whoever,"  He  says,  "shall  do  the 
will  of  my  Father  who  is  in  heaven,  he  is  my  brother,  and 


HAPPINESS  OF  THE  JUST.  5*9 

sister,  and  mother."*  And  who  is  Jesus,  who  calls  you 
His  brother,  His  sister,  and  even  His  mother  ?  Ah  !  you 
know  it  already  ;  He  is  the  glorious  Son  of  the  Virgin 
Mary,  conceived  in  her  chaste  womb  by  the  power  and 
operation  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  is  beautiful — the  most 
beautiful  of  the  children  of  men.  He  is  white  and  ruddy, 
chosen  out  of  thousands.  His  is  a  beauty  that  never 
wearies,  a  beauty  which  age  can  never  alter,  that  never 
fades.  His  beauty  is  the  joy  of  the  blessed  in  heaven  ;  it  is 
a  beauty  on  which  the  angels  gaze  with  ever-flowing  delight. 
All  the  beauty  of  earth  and  heaven  is  but  a  feeble  ray  of 
His  unutterable  beauty. 

Jesus  is  loving.  Oh  !  how  faithful,  how  ardent  is  the 
love  of  Jesus  Christ  !  He  has  loved  you  from  all  eternity. 
He  has  made  every  sacrifice  to  win  your  love.  He  has 
loved  you  unto  death — to  the  death  of  the  cross.  He  will 
never  abandon'  you,  unless  you  yourself  cast  Him  from  you ; 
and  when,  at  the  hour  of  death,  the  nearest  and  dearest 
forsake  you,  then  will  Jesus  stand  at  your  side  ;  He  will 
console  you  and  deliver  your  soul  from  the  hands  of  your 
enemies. 

And  Jesus  is  powerful.  He  is  the  King  of  kings  and 
Lord  of  lords.  He  is  the  Judge  of  the  living  and  the  dead. 
He  is  the  Creator  of  all  things,  visible  and  invisible.  He  is 
God.  At  His  name  every  knee  must  bend,  in  heaven,  on 
earth,  and  in  hell.  The  heavens  above  are  His  throne  ; 
the  earth  beneath  His  footstool.  At  His  touch  the  sick  are 
healed  and  the  dead  restored  to  life.  He  speaks,  and  the 
wild  winds  grow  calm ;  the  foaming  waves  subside  at  His 
voice.  He  calls  the  stars  by  name,  and  they  answer  to  His 
call.  Thousands  of  angels  minister  unto  Him,  and  a  thou 
sand  times  ten  thousand  angels  surround  Him  and  await 
His  bidding  in  trembling  awe. 

And  Jesus  is  rich.     All  the  gold  of  the  mcantains,  all 
*  Mat*,  xtt.  90. 


550  THE  PRODIGAL'S  BROTHER  : 

the  pearls  of  the  ocean,  are  His.  His  are  all  the  treasures  oi 
earth,  and  sea,  and  sky.  He  opens  His  hand,  and  all  crea 
tures  are  filled  with  His  blessings. 

The  holy  virgin  martyr  St.  Agnes  was  sought  in  mar 
riage  by  a  rich  and  powerful  youth  of  Rome.  When  she 
heard  his  proposal,  she  answered  :  "  Begone  from  me,  food 
of  death  !  My  heart  already  belongs  to  Another. "  Then 
the  young  nobleman,  who  loved  her  passionately,  offered 
her  countless  treasures.  He  offered  her  gold,  and  pearls, 
and  precious  stones,  and  costly  garments.  He  offered  her 
all  the  honors,  all  the  wealth,  he  had  inherited  from  his  an 
cestors.  The  virgin  smiled  in  pity  at  such  an  offer.  "  You 
offer  me  riches,"  she  answered,  "and  my  Bridegroom  pos 
sesses  all  the  treasures  of  earth  and  heaven.  He  has  placed 
on  my  finger  the  bridal  ring.  He  has  given  me  the  bridal 
robe  more  costly  than  the  queens  of  earth  can  wear.  He 
has  adorned  my  ears  with  glittering  jewels,  and  my  neck 
with  costly  pearls.  He  has  placed  on  my  brow  a  bridal 
crown,  whose  glory  shall  never  fade,  and  His  blood  is  upon 
my  cheek. "  When  at  length  the  holy  virgin  was  condemne  1 
to  die  because  she  would  not  renounce  her  heavenly  bride 
groom  Jesus,  she  went  with  joy  to  the  place  of  death  lib- 
a  bride  hastening  to  the,  marriage-feast.  All  who  saw  he 
wept;  but  Agnes  did  not  weep.  The  hands  of  the  execu 
tioner  trembled,  his  face  grew  pale,  and  the  tears  started 
unbidden  to  his  eyes;  but  Agnes  smiled,  for  she  feared  not 
death.  "  Why  do  you  wait  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Strike  !  and  let 
me  die  for  Him  who  has  died  for  me.  Strike  !  and  let  this 
body  perish,  which  can  be  loved  by  another  than  Him  whom  I 
love."  Then  the  virgin  raised  her  eyes  and  hands  to  heaven 
and  said:  "0  Jesus!  I  have  yearned  for  thee ;  now  I 
behold  Thee.  I  have  hoped  in  Thee  ;  now  I  possess 
Thee.  I  have  loved  Thee  on  earth  ;  now  I  shall  love 
Thee  for  ever  in  heaven."  Then  the  youthful  virgin  knelt 
down  and  bowed  her  head.  With  her  own  tiny  hands  she 


HAPPINESS  OF  THE  JUST.  551 

turned  aside  her  long,  golden  hair  and  bared  her  neck  to 
the  blow,  and  Agnes  remained  a  virgin — a  sister  of  Jesus 
Christ — and  received  the  martyr's  crown. 

Oh  !  who  is  there  that  would  not  love  such  a  brother, 
such  a  bridegroom,  as  Jesus  ?  Well  might  even  the  angels 
envy  the  happiness  that  is  granted  to  us  frail  and  sinful 
mortals.  The  angels  are  but  the  ministers  of  Jesus ;  just 
souls  are  His  spouses,  His  brothers,  and  His  sisters. 

Our  divine  Redeemer  assures  us  that  in  heaven  there  shall 
be  no  marriage  ;  the  blessed  in  heaven  shall  not  marry 
or  be  given  in  marriage,  but  they  shall  be  like  the  angels  of 
God.  Now,  the  just  soul  anticipates  here  on  earth  the  life 
of  heaven,  and  lives  as  an  angel  amid  the  dangers  and  cor 
ruption  of  this  world.  It  is  true  there  is  a  difference  be 
tween  an  angel  and  a  just  soul,  but  they  differ  in  happiness 
only,  and  not  in  virtue.  The  holiness  of  the  angel  is  more 
happy,  but  the  holiness  of  a  just  soul  is  more  heroic.  Yes, 
I  repeat  it :  though  the  holiness  of  the  angels  is  happier, 
yet  the  holiness  of  a  just  soul  is  more  virtuous,  more  heroic. 
I  know  full  well  that  the  angels  are  most  holy  and  sinless, 
but  it  is  their  nature  to  be  so.  The  angels  are  holy  spirits. 
They  are  free  from  all  the  restraints  of  matter;  they  are  free 
from  the  miseries  of  this  life;  they  live  in  heaven.  They 
stand  not  in  need  of  food,  or  drink,  or  sleep.  They  have 
not  to  wage  continual  war  against  wild,  unruly  passions— 
Mi'.-iinst  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil.  The  sweetest 
songs,  the  most  ravishing  melodies,  cannot  charm  them. 
The  fairest  forms  of  earthly  beauty  cannot  allure  them.  If, 
then,  they  are  holy,  they  are  so  without  struggling,  with 
out  suffering.  But  when  weak  man,  sinful  by  nature,  sub 
ject  to  a  thousand  wants,  condemned  to  live  in  the  midst 
of  a  corrupt  world,  with  dangers  within  and  dangers  with 
out,  dangers  on  every  side— when  weak  man  struggles  bravely 
against  his  very  self,  against  the  pleasures  of  the  senses, 
against  the  charms  of  the  world,  against  the  allurements  of 


552  THE  PRODIGAL'S  BROTHER: 

the  demons ;  when  weak  man  struggles  untiringly  against 
his  most  deadly  enemies,  who  cease  not  to  tempt  him  day  or 
night,  waking  or  sleeping,  at  work  as  in  prayer,  in  the  soli 
tude  of  his  chamber  as  on  the  busy  street ;  and  when,  with 
the  grace  of  God,  man  triumphs  over  all— triumphs  through 
n  long,  weary  life  of  ceaseless  warfare— and  lives  as  an 
angel,  ah  !  that  is  noble,  that  is  heroic,  that  is  sublime, 
that  is  God-like. 

Martina  was  a  young,  beautiful,  rich,  and  noble  lady. 
She  was  seized  because  she  was  a  Christian.  The  judge, 
touched  by  her  youtli  and  beauty,  was  resolved  to  save  her. 
"My  daughter,"  said  he,  "you  are  young;  perhaps  you  did 
not  know  the  law  ! "  "  Yes,"  replied  Martina,  "  I  knew  it 
well— heard  it  proclaimed.  I  know  the  punishment.  God's 
will  be  done.  I  must  obey  God  rather  than  man."  "  Re 
call  what  you  have  said,  or  prison  and  death,"  said  the 
judge.  "  God's  will  be  done.  I  am  ready,"  replied  Mar 
tina.  She  went  courageously,  joyfully,  to  prison,  her  face 
beaming  with  hope,  her  eyes  raised  to  heaven.  The  judge 
often  sent  for  Martina,  but  always  found  her  firm  as  a  rock. 
He  told  her  to  prepare  for  the  torture.  The  cruel  execu 
tioners  tore  off  the  nails  one  by  one  from  her  delicate  fin 
gers.  Not  a  tear  did  she  shed,  not  a  moan  did  she  utter, 
but  raised  her  eyes  and  bleeding  hands  to  heaven.  "0 
Mary  ! "  she  cried,  "Mother  of  my  God,  give  me  strength 
to  suffer  for  thee  and  thy  dear  Son  ! "  The  judge  was  furi 
ous.  Martina  was  tormented  anew.  One  by  one  the  nails 
were  now  torn  from  her  tender  feet !  But  Martina  still 
prayed.  The  executioners  then  made  deep  gashes  in  her 
tender,  virginal  body,  and  in  the  gaping,  bleeding  wounds 
they  poured  boiling  oil.  What  terrible  torment  !  But 
Martina  remained  calm,  immovable.  At  last  the  judge  in 
a  rage  ordered  her  to  be  beheaded,  and  then  her  pure  soul 
ascended  to  heaven,  surrounded  by  choirs  of  angels. 

Now,  who  gives  to  the  soul  ©f  the  just  man  such  light 


HAPPINESS  OF  THE  JUST.  55£ 

and  grace,  such  unconquerable  courage  and  endurance  ? 
It  is  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  lives  in  the  soul  as  in  a  beautiful 
temple,  who,  on  beholding  such  a  soul,  exclaims,  "  Oh  !  how 
beautiful  art  thou  ;  thou  hast  ravished  my  heart,  my  sister, 
my  spouse."  * 

We  know  how  easily  our  imagination  wanders  among 
frivolous  objects.  We  know  how  difficult  it  is  for  our  un 
derstanding  to  comprehend  the  truths  of  salvation  in  a  salu 
tary  manner.  We  know  that  it  is  still  more  difficult  for 
our  will  to  embrace  the  good  which  the  understanding  pre 
sents  to  it.  But  the  Holy  Ghost  removes  these  obstacles  to 
the  practice  of  good  works.  By  the  strength  of  His  grace 
He  arrests  the  wanderings  of  the  imagination,  fixes  its  levity, 
and  attaches  it  to  good  objects.  He'  fills  the  memory  with 
wholesome  thoughts,  gives  the  understanding  salutary 
knowledge,  capable  of  moving  the  will  to  follow  His  holj 
inspiration. 

The  Holy  Ghost  shields  the  soul  from  all  that  can  injure 
her  salvation,  and  bestows  on  her  all  that  can  promote  it.  He 
holds  the  demon  in  check,  that  he  may  not  tempt  the  soul 
above  her  strength;  and  it  is  well  to  remark  that  the  power 
of  the  devil  is  so  great,  his  artifices  so  subtle,  his  experience 
so  vast,  his  will  so  malicious,  that  if  God  did  not  restrain 
him  he  would  pervert  even  the  holiest  of  men.  There  is 
no  man  so  humble  that  the  devil  would  not  render  proud, 
so  chaste  that  he  would  not  render  unchaste,  so  charitable 
that  he  would  not  render  cruel,  so  temperate  that  he  would 
not  render  intemperate.  If  he  could,  the  devil  would  ex 
terminate  everywhere  the  worship  of  the  time  God,  root 
out  all  sentiments  of  religion,  fill  cities,  kingdoms,  pro 
vinces,  and  families  with  the  most  horrible  confusion  ;  but 
God  restrains  Satan  from  doing  all  the  evil  he  wishes  to  do. 
He  allows  him  to  go  only  the  length  of  his  chain.  God 
holds  him  back  as  lions  or  mad  dogs  are  kept  back  by  their 
*Cant.  iv.9. 


551  TiiE  l'ROmuAL'8  BROTHER: 

keepers.  These  animals  cannot  injure  those  who  look  at 
them  unless  the  keeper  loosens  their  chains.  The  Holy  Ghost 
moderates  and  governs,  in  regard  to  the  just,  the  envy  with 
which  the  demon  burns  for  their  ruin.  He  weakens  the 
force  of  Satan's  arm  when  he  attacks  them.  He  wards  off 
the  arrows  of  the  arch-enemy  of  souls  in  counteracting  the 
fury  of  his  strokes,  so  that  he  cannot  injure  the  just  more 
than  they  allow  him  to  injure  them. 

Moreover,  the  Holy  Ghost  turns  from  the  just  many 
temptations  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil,  to  which, 
on  account  of  their  weakness  and  the  strength  of  their 
enemies,  they  should  infallibly  yield  if  God  permitted  them 
to  be  attacked  by  these  enemies.  Hence,  by  the  secret  de 
sign  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  with  hands  full  of  mercy,  He 
wards  off  these  temptations  ;  or,  if  He  permits  them  to 
assail  the  just.  He  renders  their  minds,  as  it  were,  incapa 
ble  of  perceiving  them,  or  turns  them  to  some  other  object, 
that  they  may  forget  the  temptation,  which  soon  vanishes. 
The  Holy  Ghost  leads  them,  as  it  were,  by  the  hand  in  the 
way  of  salvation,  sweetens  the  fatigues  of  their  pilgrimage, 
consoles  them  in  their  sorrows,  removes  obstacles  from  their 
path,  gives  them  occasions  of  practising  virtue,  and  light 
and  strength  to  practise  it. 

It  is  true  the  life  of  the  just  man  is  a  life  of  constant 
trials  and  crosses.  It  is  the  yoke  of  Jesus  Christ  ;  but  though 
a  yoke,  yet  it  is  sweet ;  though  a  burden,  it  is  light.  With 
out  a  yoke,  without  a  burden,  no  man  can  come  to  joy  ever 
lasting  ;  "  for  the  way  is  narrow  which  leadeth  to  it,"  and  it 
behooved  Jesus  Christ,  the  King  of  glory,  to  suffer,  and  so 
to  enter  into  His  glory.  The  world  has  also  its  yoke,  and 
not  only  one,  but  many  rough  and  heavy  ones.  The  yoke 
of  Jesus  Christ,  or  the  service  of  God,  is  true  freedom,  and 
lull  of  delights  and  comforts.  By  taking  upon  himself  the 
sweet  yoke  of  Christ,  the  just  man  receives  a  crown  for 
ashes  ;  the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning ;  the  cloak  of  prais  >  for 


HAPPINESS  OF  THE  JUST.  555 

the  spirit  of  soriow  ;  and  his  heart  rejoices,  and  his  joy  no 
man  shall  take  from  him. 

JSTo  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  soul  of  the  just  man  only 
cares  to  please  her  divine  Master,  Jesus  Christ ;  to  make 
herself  beautiful  in  His  eyes.  She  only  thinks  of  His 
beauty,  His  mercy,  His  love.  Jesus  is  her  joy,  her  peace, 
her  paradise.  You  would  wish  me  to  describe  to  you  the 
pleasures  of  the  just,  but  I  would  ask  you  :  Can  you  de 
scribe  the  sweetness  of  honey  to  one  who  has  never  tusted 
it  ?  No  ;  and  neither  can  I  describe  to  you  the  sweet  plea 
sures  of  the  just,  unless  you  yourself  have  tasted  these 
pleasures.  Language  has  no  words  to  describe  them  to  one 
who  has  never  experienced  them.  But,  believe  me,  the  joys 
of  the  just  far  surpass  all  the  pleasures  of  the  senses,  all 
the  joys  of  earth.  If  you  wish  to  be  convinced  of  what  I 
say,  then  go  stand  beside  the  death-bed  of  a  just  man ;  be 
hold  the  calm  joy  that  beams  on  his  face  ;  listen  to  the  sweet 
song  of  gladness  that  flows  from  his  lips. 

When  the  Blessed  Mary  of  Oiguies  was  about  to  die,  her 
soul  was  filled  with  such  heavenly  joy  that  she  could  no 
longer  contain  it  within  her  breast.  She  burst  forth  into  a 
melodious  hymn  of  praise  and  gladness.  For  three  days 
and  three  nights  she  continued  to  sing,  and  her  voice  only 
grew  louder  and  stronger  as  she  drew  near  her  end.  and  it 
was  sweet  and  clear  as  the  voice  of  an  angel.  She  continued 
thus  to  sing  until  her  pure  soul  went  forth  to  join  in  the  me 
lodious  choirs  of  the  blessed  in  heaven.  Thus  died  this 
holy  virgin,  and  thus,  too,  have  thousands  died  who  served 
God  in  holiness  of  life. 

Now,  I  ask  you  :  Can  that  soul  have  been  sad  and  un 
happy  during  life  who  can  sing  and  rejoice  at  the  hour  of 
death  ?  Can  he  have  feared  pain  or  sorrow  who  smiles  and 
exults  in  the  very  face  of  death  ?  Ah  !  no ;  to  the  just 
soul  death  is  a  welcome  messenger,  who  tells  her  that  the 
Bridegroom  calls,  that  the  marriage-feast  is  ready.  And 


566  THE  PRODIGAL'S  BROTHER: 

blessed,  ah  !  thrice  blessed,  is  lie  who  is  called  to  the  mar 
riage-feast  of  the  Lamb. 

If,  then,  the  dignity  and  happiness  of  your  soul  as  a  child 
of  your  Heavenly  Father,  and  as  a  brother  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  as  a  spouse  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  are  dear  to  you,  oh!  for 
the  love  of  Jesus  engrave  these  two  words  deeply  in  your 
,  heart :  Watch  and  pray  !  Watch  over  your  soul,  that  no 
'sinful  thought  may  enter  there ;  and  should  it  enter  un 
awares,  cast  it  out  instantly,  as  you  would  a  disgusting  in 
sect  or  a  spark  of  fire.  Watch  over  your  heart,  that  no  sin 
ful  affection  may  possess  it.  Watch  over  your  eyes,  that 
they  may  not  gaze  on  any  pictures  or  books  or  other  objects 
that  could  soil  the  lustre  of  your  soul.  Watch  over  your 
ears,  that  they  may  not  listen  to  any  immodest  words  01 
words  of  double  meaning.  Watch  over  your  tongue,  and 
remember  that  your  tongue  has  been  sanctified  in  Holy  Com- 
munion  by  touching  the  virginal  flesh  and  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Watch  over  your  whole  body ;  for  your  body  is  a 
temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  consecrated  in  baptism,  and  he 
who  pollutes  a  consecrated  temple  is  accursed  of  God  and 
His  holy  angels.  Be  watchful  day  and  night,  and  avoid  the 
occasion  of  sin.  Avoid  those  persons  and  those  places 
Avhich  are  to  you  an  occasion  of  sin.  Flee  from  them  as 
you  would  from  a  serpent ;  for  he  who  loves  danger  shall 
perish  in  it.  "  If  your  eye  be  to  you  an  occasion  of  sin, 
pluck  it  out  and  cast  it  from  you  ;  for  it  is  better  to  go  blind 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  than  with  both  eyes  to  be  cast 
into  the  pit  of  hell.  And  if  your  hands  or  your  feet  be  to 
you  an  occasion  of  sin,  cut  them  off  and  cast  them  from 
you  ;  for  it  is  better  to  go  lame  and  maimed  into  the  king 
dom  of  God,  than  to  have  two  hands  and  two  feet,  and  to  be 
cast  into  hell-fire."  These  are  the  words  of  Jesus  Christ, 
my  dear  reader;  He  certainly  knew  what  He  was  saying. 
You  must  watch  and  pray.  You  must  pray  to  Jesns. 
Jesus  is  a  jealous  God,  and  He  oominandi  you  to  oall  upon 


HAPPINESS  OF  THE  JUST.  557 

Him  in  the  hour  of  temptation.  You  must  hasten  to  the 
altar,  and  receive  often  into  your  heart  the  virginal  flesh 
and  blood  of  Jesus  Christ.  You  must  partake  of  the 
"wheat  of  the  elect  and  of  the  wine  liiat  maketh  virgins ;  for 
unless  you  eat  of  the  flesh  of  the  Son  of  Man  and  drink 
Ills  blood,  you  shall  have  no  life  in  you.''  You  must  pray 
to  Mary,  the  Mother  of  the  just,  the  lovely  standard-bearer 
of  all  the  elect.  The  very  name  of  Mary  is  a  sweet  balm 
"which  heals  and  fortifies  the  soul.  The  very  thought  of 
Mary's  immaculate  purity  is  a  check  upon  the  passions. 
The  love  of  Mary  is  a  fragrant  rose  which  puts  to  flight  the 
Jfoul  spirit  of  UD  cleanness. 

A  young  man  who  was  very  much  addicted  to  the  sin  of 
;*npurity  came  once  to  confession  to  a  certain  priest.  The 
good  prieat  was  very  greatly  afflicted  on  learning  that  the 
young  man  had  always  fallen  again  into  this  sin  after  every 
Confession.  He  advised  the  young  man  to  place  himself 
entirely  under  the  protection  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary. 
He  told  him  to  say  a  Hail  Mary  every  morning  and  evening 
*n  honor  of  her  immaculate  purity,  to  kiss  the  ground  three 
rimes,  and  to  say:  "  0  Mary,  my  Mother  !  I  give  myself  en 
tirely  to  thee  this  day ;  I  consecrate  to  thee  my  eyes,  my 
*ars,  my  tongue,  my  heart,  and  rny  whole  body  and  soul.  Oh! 
orotect  me,  for  I  am  thine."  And  whenever  he  was  tempted, 
*ie  should  say  :  "  0  Mary  !  help  me,  for  I  am  thine."  The 
joung  man  followed  this  advice,  and  in  a  short  time  he 
was  entirely  delivered  from  this  accursed  sin.  Now,  this 
•5ame  priest  related  this  fact  one  day  from  the  pulpit.  In 
^he  audience  there  was  an  officer  who  kept  up  a  criminal  in- 
Sercourse  with  a  certain  person.  As  soon  as  he  heard  this 
fact,  he  also  made  the  resolution  to  practise  this  devotion, 
m  order  to  free  himself  from  the  shameful  slavery  in  which 
*ie  was  bound.  In  a  short  time  he  too  was  entirely  freed  from 
the  degrading  vice  of  uncleanness.  Some  months  after, 
uowever,  he  had  the  imprudence  to  go  again  to  the  house  of 


558  THE  PRODIGAL'S  BROTHER. 

his  companion  in  sin,  as  he  wished  to  see  whether  she  too 
had  changed  her  life ;  but  no  sooner  did  he  come  before  the 
door  of  the  house  than  a  strange  feeling  of  terror  seized 
upon  him,  and  he  cried  out :  "  0  Mary  !  help  me  ;  I  am 
thine  !  "  That  very  instant  he  felt  himself  thrust  back  by 
an  invisible  hand,  and  found  himself  at  a  distance  from  the 
house.  He  immediately  recognized  the  danger  in  which  he 
had  been,  and  returned  his  most  heartfelt  thanks  to  God 
and  to  His  holy  Mother  for  having  preserved  him.  lie- 
member,  then,  to  watch  and  to  pray.  Repeat  again  and 
again  with  the  holy  Church  :  "  Inflame,  0  Lord,  our  reins 
and  hearts  with  the  fire  of  Thy  Holy  Spirit,  that  we  may 
serve  Thee  with  a  chaste  body,  and  please  Thee  with  a  clean 
heart." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  FATHER'S  HOUSE — HEA.VEN. 

OT.  BERNARDIN"  of  Sienna  tells  of  a  gentleman,  well 
^  known  for  his  fervor  and  piety,  who  made  a  pilgrimage 
to  the  Holy  Land.  He  longed  to  visit  every  spot  that  had  re 
ceived  the  impress  of  our  Lord's  sufferings  ;  and  after  go 
ing  to  confession  and  making  his  communion  with  great  de 
votion,  lie  set  out  on  his  travels.  He  first  stopped  at  Naza 
reth,  where  the  great  mystery  of  the  Incarnataon  was  accom 
plished.  He  then  proceeded  to  Bethlehem  to  kneel  at  the 
spot  in  which  our  Lord  first  deigned  to  visit  this  earth  as  a 
suffering  infant.  He  walked  by  the  banks  of  the  Jordan, 
the  scene  of  our  Lord's  baptism;  and  went  to  the  desert 
which  had  witnessed  that  wonderful  forty  days'  fast;  to  the 
mountain  where  Jesus  was  transfigured;  to  the  house  at 
Jerusalem  consecrated  by  the  institution  of  the  Holy  Eu- 
charist;  to  the  garden  of  Olives  ;  to  the  pretorium  ;  and  to 
Calvary,  where  the  awful  sacrifice  was  consummated.  He 
visited  the  scene  of  our  Lord's  burial  and  resurrection  ;  and 
finally  ascended  Mount  Olivet,  fondly  recalling  the  blessing 
which  Christ  gave  to  the  apostles  before  his  ascension. 
After  visiting  every  place  which  was  in  any  way  connected 
with  our  Lord's  life  or  death,  with  a  heart  glowing  with 
love,  lie  exclaimed :  "  0  Jesus,  Jesus,  my  much-loved  Sa 
viour  !  since  I  can  no  longer  follow  Thy  footsteps  on  earth, 
jail  me  to  Thyself  in  heaven."  And  his  prayer  was  imme 
diately  heard  ;  for  it  was  no  sooner  uttered  than  he  expired. 
The  intensity  of  his  love  for  Jesus  had  broken  his  heart ; 
arid  after  death  these  words  were  found  engraven  on  his 
breast:  "  Jesus,  my  love. 


560 


560  THE  FATHER'S  HOUSE: 

0  happy  death  !  Would  that  our  death  might  be  like  his  ! 
It  will  be  so  if  we,  like  him,  often  visit,  at  least  in  spirit, 
those  places  where  Jesus  lived,  suffered,  and  died  for  us. 
The  frequent  remembrance  of  what  our  dear  Saviour  has 
done  for  us  will  not  fail  to  enkindle  in  our  hearts  a  great 
love  for  Him,  as  also  a  great  desire  to  be  where  He  is.  Like 
travellers  at  a  distance  from  home,  we  ought  often  to  turr 
to  the  anticipation  of  our  happy  return  to  God.  We  should 
look  forward  to  the  object  of  our  love,  to  our  dear  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  awaiting  us,  bearing  the  crown  in  His  hand, 
and  pointing  to  the  throne  where  the  victor  is  to  live  and 
reign  for  ever. 

We  have  seen  what  spiritual  happiness  the  just  enjoy 
even  in  this  world.  Let  us  now  see  what  happiness  is  pre 
pared  for  them  in  the  world  to  come,  in  their  Father's  house 
in  heaven. 

The  kings  of  this  world  possess  palaces  from  which  their 
power  goes  forth ;  they  ennoble  their  palaces  and  the  pal 
aces  ennoble  them  ;  they  ennoble  their  palaces  by  raising 
the  cities  in  which  they  reside  to  be  the  metropolis  of  their 
kingdoms,  and  their  palaces  ennoble  them  because  the  mag 
nificence  of  the  buildings,  the  splendor  of  the  court  and  of 
the  guards,  are  signs  of  their  power  and  grandeur. 

Almighty  God  is  the  King  of  heaven  and  earth.  Al 
though  it  be  true  of  Him  that  He  is  everywhere,  yet  it  is 
also  true  that  there  is  a  place  which  in  a  certain  sense  is  His 
particular  dwelling-place.  This  place  is  called  heaven. 
"You  shall  not  swear  by  heaven,  for  it  is  the  throne  of 
God  "  *  said  our  divine  Saviour.  It  is  also  said  in  the  Gos 
pel  that  whenever  our  Saviour  prayed  or  blessed  His  fol 
lowers,  He  raised  his  eyes  towards  heaven.  He  also  often 
said  :  "  My  Father  and  your  Father,  who  is  in  heaven,'* 
and  He  commands  us  to  pray:  Our  Father  "  who  art  in 
heaven.'7  Again,  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  we  read  that 

*  Matt.  v.  34. 


HEAVEN.  661 

when  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  returned  to  heaven,  He  ascended 
beyond  the  clouds.  He  declared  that  "  in  His  Father's  houss 
there  were  many  mansions  "  ;  in  a  word,  faith  and  revelation 
assure  us  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  a  real  place  of  bound 
less  extent,  and  that  it  lies  far  beyond  the  starry  firmament. 

No  one  can  speak  worthily  of  heaven  but  he  that  has 
seen  it.  It  would  require  an  angel  to  describe  its  beauties. 
St.  Paul  was  taken  up  in  spirit  to  the  third  heaven,  and  he 
there  beheld  a  faint  glimpse  of  its  unutterable  beauty.  He 
declares  that  no  eye  has  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  has  it  en 
tered  into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive  the  sweetness  of  its' 
joys  and  the  greatness  of  its  beauty.  How  beautiful  must 
heaven  be  !  What  beautiful  sights  do  we  not  behold  in  this 
world,  and  yet  we  have  never  seen  anything  like  the  beau 
ties  of  heaven  !  What  sweet  sounds,  what  delicious  harmo 
nies,  do  we  not  sometimes  hear  in  this  life,  and  yet  we  hare 
never  heard  anything  like  the  harmonies  of  the  blessed  in 
heaven  !  How  great,  how  manifold,  how  boundless,  are  our 
desires ;  and  yet  it  has  never,  never  entered  our  hearts  to 
desire  anything  like  the  beauties,  the  joys,  of  heaven  !  Holy 
Church  exhorts  us  every  day  in  the  Mass,  "  Sursum  cor- 
da."  Let  us  follow  the  flight  of  one  of  those  happy  souls 
that  have  been  freed  from  purgatory  this  day,  and  that  are 
now  winging  their  way  to  heaven. 

No  sooner  is  the  soul  entirely  cleansed  by  the  fires  of  pur 
gatory  than  she  is  clothed  by  her  angel  guardian  with  the 
bright  light  of  glory.  Her  robe  is  whiter  than  snow,  and 
on  her  head  she  wears  a  glittering  crown.  Oh!  how  beautiful 
is  such  a  soul!  So  marvellously  beautiful  is  the  soul  clothed 
with  the  light  of  glory  that,  could  we  but  gaze  on  her,  we 
should  die  of  joy;  for  she  is  now  indeed  the  image  and  like 
ness  of  the  living  God.  Let  us  follow  this  pure  soul  as  she 
rises  from  the  earth,  and  passes  through  the  countless  my 
riads  of  stars  and  planets  that  light  up  her  pathway  to 


562  THE  FATHER'S  HOUSE: 

Oh  !  how  new  and  wonderful  is  the  delight  which  the  soul 
experiences  as  she  rises  from  the  earth !  How  great  and 
overflowing,  then,  must  be  her  joy  as  she  beholds  at  one 
glance,  not  only  the  whole  earth,  but  all  the  mysteries  of  the 
universe,  which  were  never  yet  revealed  to  mortal  man  !  In 
the  fulness  of  her  joy  she  bursts  forth  into  a  canticle  of 
praise  and  gladness ;  and  her  song,  like  that  of  the  lark, 
rings  louder  and  more  gladsome  the  higher  she  ascends ;  for 
all  she  sees  is  hers,  and  shall  be  hers  for  ever. 

As  the  soul  draws  nigh  to  the  glittering  portals  of  the 
heavenly  city,  the  gates  are  thrown  open,  and  all  heaven 
rejoices  at  her  coming.  "Who  is  this  ?"  the  angels  ask— 
"  who  is  this  that  cometh  up  from  the  earth  as  the  morn 
ing  rising,  fair  as  the  moon,  bright  as  the  sun  ? "  The 
guardian  angel  answers :  ' '  This  is  the  bride  of  the  Lamb." 
Then  all  heaven  resounds  with  the  sweetest  melody,  and  all 
the  angels  sing :  "  Blessed  are  they  that  are  called  to  the 
marriage  of  the  Lamb." 

There  is  a  solemn  beauty  in  a  vast  forest,  with  its  lofty 
trees  and  its  cool  shade,  where  all  is  calm  and  peaceful.  In 
that  deep  solitude  naught  is  heard  save  the  warbling  of  birds, 
or  the  gentle  murmur  of  the  brook  mingling  with  the 
distant  roar  of  the  waterfall,  and  the  whisper  of  the  wind 
as  it  ruffles  the  forest  leaves. 

There  is  a  beauty  in  the  boundless  ocean.  Sometimes  it 
is  lashed  into  fury  by  the  storm,  and  its  surging  waves,  as 
they  glitter  in  the  sunlight,  look  like  mountains  of  crystal 
whose  summits  sparkle  with  showers  of  pearls.  'I  hen 
again  the  ocean  sleeps  as  calmly  and  gently  as  an  infant. 
The  whole  earth  is  beautiful.  There  is  a  beauty  in  its 
snow-capped  mountains  which  tower  above  the  clouds  in 
solemn  grandeur.  There  is  a  beauty  in  the  widespread, 
sloping  valleys  that  bloom  with  thousands  of  flowers  or 
smile  with  a  golden  harvest.  There  is  a  beauty  in  the 
dawn,  as  it  paints  the  eastern  sky  with  the  richest  hues. 


HE  A  YEN.  563 

There  is  a  beauty  in  the  brightness  of  the  noonday  sun. 
There  is  a  touching  beauty  in  the  summer  sunset,  when  the 
clouds  are  fringed  Avith  gold  and  purple,  whilst  the  pale 
moon  rises  in  calm  majesty  above  the  horizon,  and  the 
twinkling  stars  appear  one  by  one,  like  silvery  lamps  hung 
out  on  the  dark-blue  vault  of  heaven. 

If,  then,  this  earth,  even  now  in  its  fallen  state,  is  still  so 
marvellously  beautiful,  what  must  the  beauty  of  heaven  be  ! 
If  there  is  so  much  beauty  in  this  prison  of  death,  what 
must  there  be  in  the  land  of  the  living  !  If  this  place  of 
banishment  is  so  admirable,  how  admirable  must  be  our 
heavenly  home  !  If  this  valley  of  tears,  this  abode  of  sin 
and  sorrow  and  malediction,  has  yet  so  many  beauties,  oh  ! 
how  exceedingly  beautiful  must  be  that  paradise  of  delights 
where  sin  and  pain  and  sorrow  are  never  known  ! 

The  Queen  of  Saba  quitted  her  native  land,  and  travelled 
for  many  long,  weary  days  to  gaze  upon  the  splendors  of 
Solomon's  court.  She  entered  the  royal  halls  ;  she  admired 
the  beauty  of  the  palace,  the  costly  magnificence  of  the 
furniture,  and  the  unwonted  splendor,  the  perfect  harmony, 
of  all  around  her.  She  listened  entranced  to  the  sublime 
wisdom  of  the  august  monarch  of  that  court,  and  she  was 
so  overcome  with  joy  and  wonder  at  all  she  saw  and  heard 
that  she  could  not  speak,  she  could  not  move,  she' could  not 
breathe  ;  she  swooned  away  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  At 
length,  in  coming  to  herself  again,  she  exclaimed :  "  0 
glorious  monarch  !  I  have  heard  great  things  of  thy 
magnificence,  thy  wisdom — so  great  that  I  could  not  be 
lieve  them;  but  now  that  I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes, 
that  I  have  heard  with  my  own  ears,  now  I  confess  to  you, 
I  assure  you,  that  all  that  I  have  heard  is  far  below  the 
reality." 

Such,  too,  will  be  the  language  of  a  soul  on  her  first 
entrance  into  heaven;  such,  and  far  greater,  will  be  her  joy, 
her  surprise,  her  ecstatic  delight,  in  entering  the  abode  of  the 


564  THE  FATHER'S  HOUSE: 

blessed.  "0  sweet  Jesus!"  she  will  exclaim,  "I  have 
heard  wonderful  things  of  Thy  kingdom,  Thy  glory,  Thy 
beauty;  I  could  scarcely  believe,  or  rather  I  could  not 
understand,  them  all ;  but,  oh  !  now  I  can  see  how  infinitely 
below  the  truth  was  all  that  I  have  heard  ! " 

Oh  !  how  beautiful,  how  wonderful,  must  be  the  beauty 
of  heaven,  since  it  is  the  special  work  of  the  wisdom,  of  the 
power,  of  the  loving  magnificence,  of  God  ! 

But  what  of  the  music  of  heaven,  of  that  melody  that 
ravishes  the  soul  on  her  entrance  into  Paradise  ?  Even 
here  on  earth  music  has  such  wondrous  power  that  it  can 
melt  the  sternest  hearts  and  calm  the  wildest  passions. 
The  celebrated  Italian  musician  Alexandra  Stradella  had 
the  misfortune  to  give  offence  to  a  whole  family  of  Rome. 
The  nobles  determined  to  have  revenge.  They  hired  a  band 
of  assassins  to  waylay  the  musician  on  his  return  from 
church,  and  to  murder  him.  On  the  appointed  evening 
they  came  to  the  church.  Alexandro,  little  dreaming  of 
any  danger,  entered  the  choir,  and  began  to  play  and  sing  a 
most  sweet  and  touching  melody.  He  had  just  composed 
the  piece,  and  he  was  now  playing  it  for  the  first  time  : 
"Pieta  Signore,  di  me  dolente."  "Have  mercy  on  me,  0 
Lord  !  have  mercy  on  me  ;  look  on  me  in  my  sadness;  con 
demn  me  not  in  justice,  but  pardon  me  in  mercy."  These 
were  the  words  he  sang.  And  as  the  touching  melody  rose 
and  swelled,  filling  the  whole  church  with  its  melancholy 
strains,  and  then  sank  and  died  away  like  the  sad  wailing 
of  a  broken  heart,  there  was  not  one  there  who  could 
repress  his  tears.  Even  the  hardened  assassins,  those 
men  of  blood,  who  without  a  shudder  could  murder  the 
innocent  virgin  and  the  helpless  babe,  were  moved.  They 
sheathed  their  poniards,  and  they  vowed  a  yow  that  they 
never  would  strike  at  the  heart  of  him  who  could  sing  so 
sweetly. 
Even  here  on  earth  music  has  power  to  raise  the  drooping 


HE  A  VSN.  566 

spirits  and  to  soothe  the  troubled  souL  The  Holy  Scriptures 
tell  us  that  when  King  Saul  saw  that  God  had  abandoned 
him  on  account  of  his  sins,  a  deep  melancholy  settled  on 
him,  and  his  soul  was  harassed  by  an  evil  spirit ;  and  when 
these  fits  of  sadness  came  on  him,  his  face  looked  dark  and 
scowling,  like  one  in  despair.  Messengers  were  sent  all  over 
the  land  to  find  a  good  musician  who  would  play  to  the 
king  and  charm  away  his  grief.  They  found  the  youthful 
David,  who  was  renowned  for  his  skill  in  playing  on  the 
harp.  And  whenever  the  evil  spirit  came  upon  Saul,  and 
his  face  grew  dark  with  the  gloom  of  despair,  the  youthful 
David  stood  before  him,  and  sang  and  touched  his  harp 
with  such  marvellous  sweetness  that  the  evil  spirit  was 
forced  to  flee  away,  and  hope  and  joy  revived  again  in  the 
bosom  of  the  unhappy  king.  If,  then,  music  has  such  charms 
here  on  earth,  what  must  be  the  power,  the  sweetness,  of  that 
music  which  delights  and  ravishes  the  blessed  in  heaven  ! 

St.  Francis  of  Assisi  heard  but  a  single  strain  of  this 
heavenly  melody,  and,  though  sick  and  dying,  the  un 
earthly  sweetness  of  this  music  made  him  forget  every  pain 
and  charmed  away  his  illness,  and  from  that  moment  he 
rose  from  his  bed  in  perfect  health. 

When  the  pious  virgin  St.  Catherine  of  Bologna  was 
about  to  die,  she  was  shown  a  wonderful  vision.  She  was 
taken  in  spirit  to  a  vast  and  beautiful  plain,  where  she  be 
held  a  gorgeous  throne,  upon  which  was  seated  a  Prince  of 
unsurpassed  grace  and  majesty.  It  was  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  Himself.  Beside  Him  sat  His  ever-blessed  Mother, 
full  of  beauty  and  sweetness.  While  St.  Catherine  was 
gazing  with  joy  and  love  upon  the  blessed  countenance 
of  her  divine  Saviour  and  His  holy  Mother,  she  heard 
the  sound  of  song  blended  with  strains  of  sweetest  har 
mony.  The  words  that  were  sung  were  few,  but  they  were 
repeated  again  and  again  with  ever-varying  melody.  "  Et 
gloria  ejus  in  te  videbitur  " — And  His  glory  shall  appear 


566  THE  FATHER'S  HOUSE: 

in  thee.  This  was  the  burden  of  the  heavenly  song  The 
vision  passed  away,  and  St.  Catherine  came  to  herself  again, 
hut  the  sweet  strains  of  that  heavenly  music  were  still  lin 
gering  in  her  ear.  She  arose  from  her  sick-bed  and  called 
for  a  harp.  The  nuns  who  stood  round,  and  who  had 
thought  her  already  dead,  were  greatly  surprised  at  her 
miraculous  recovery,  and  still  more  so  at  her  strange  request; 
for  they  knew  that  she  had  never  learned  to  play  on  the 
harp.  St.  Catherine  took  the  harp,  and  played  and  sang  so 
sweetly  as  never  did  mortal  sing  before.  Then,  whilst  all 
the  nuns  stood  there  around  her,  entranced  by  this  won 
drous  song,  the  holy  virgin  paused  for  a  moment,  and,  rais 
ing  her  streaming  eyes  to  heaven,  listened  as  if  to  catch  the 
sounds  of  that  unearthly  harmony.  Again  she  burst  forth 
in  a  pure,  rich  flood  of  sweetest  melody,  and  the  sweet 
sounds  of  the  harp,  blending  with  the  still  sweeter  tones  oi 
her  voice,  affected  them  all  so  much  that  they  shed  tears  of 
mingled  joy  and  sadness.  St.  Catherine  never  played  again, 
but  the  harp  was  carefully  preserved  by  the  pious  nuns  as  a 
most  precious  relic. 

There  lived  many  years  ago  a  pious  monk  named  Thomas, 
who  loved  Our  Lady  with  all  his  heart.  Day  after  day  he 
besought  his  blessed  Queen  to  deign  to  visit  him  during  his 
mortal  pilgrimage.  One  night  he  went  out  into  the  convent 
garden,  and,  looking  up  to  heaven,  he  implored  Our  Lady 
anew,  with  sighs  and  tears,  to  grant  his  prayer.  On  a  sud 
den  lie  saw  a  brilliant  light  shoot  down  from  heaven,  like 
a  falling  star,  and  a  beautiful  and  radiant  virgin  stood  be 
fore  him.  The  virgin  called  him  by  his  name,  and  said, 
"Thomas,  do  you  wish  to  hear  me  sing  ?"  "Oh  !  most 
certainly, "  replied  the  religious.  Then  the  virgin  sang,  and 
sang  so  sweetly  that  Thomas  thought  he  was  in  Paradise ; 
but  suddenly  she  ceased  to  sing,  and  disappeared.  The 
heart  of  the  good  monk  was  burning  with  desire  to  hear 
more  of  this  heavenly  song  when  another  beautiful  virgin 


HEAVEN.  567 

appeared,  and  sang  to  him  with  the  same  heavenly  sweetness. 
When  the  virgin  had  ended  her  heavenly  strain,  she  said  to 
the  pious  monk  :  "  The  virgin  whom  you  saw  a  little  while 
ago  was  St.  Catherine,  and  I  am  Agnes  ;  we  have  been  sent 
bv  Our  Lady  to  console  you.  Give  thanks,  then,  to  Jesus 
and  Mary,  and  prepare  for  a  greater  favor."  She  vanished, 
and  the  heart  of  the  good  monk  beat  high  with  hope  and 
love,  for  he  was  now  to  behold  at  last  the  object  of  all  his 
desires — the  Immaculate  Mother  of  God  ;  and,  looking  up, 
he  beheld  a  brilliant  light,  and  his  heart  was  filled  with  un 
speakable  joy.  There,  in  the  midst  of  the  dazzling  light, 
he  beheld  the  Immaculate  Virgin  Mary,  the  Blessed  Mother 
of  God.  She  was  surrounded  by  a  multitude  of  angels,  and 
she  was  radiant  with  celestial  beauty.  She  smiled  upon  the 
happy  religious.  "  My  dear  son,"  said  she,  "  your  devotion 
is  pleasing  to  me  ;  you  have  desired  to  see  me  ;  look  on  me 
now,  and  I  too  will  sing  to  you." 

And  now  the  Blessed  Virgin  sang.  Never  before  did  such 
entrancing  melody  charm  a  mortal  ear.  The  pious  monk 
was  ravished  out  of  his  senses,  and  sank  on  the  ground  as 
dead ;  and,  in  truth,  he  would  have  died  had  not  God  given 
him  strength  to  bear  that  excessive  joy.  After  remaining 
long  in  this  trance  he  came  to  himself  again,  but  he  could 
nerer  forget  the  sweetness  of  that  heavenly  song.  He 
slowly  pined  away,  and  soon  died  of  sheer  desire  to  hear,  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  the  rapturous  canticles  of  the 
blessed. 

For  ear  has  not  heard,  nor  the  senses  of  mortals 

E'er  caught  the  ineffable  music  below 
Of  those  harmonies  full  which  through  heaven's  bright  portals, 

With  tide  ever  rising,  unceasingly  flow. 

There  voices  seraphic  in  concord  are  vying, 
And  golden  the  strings  of  each  well-timed  lyre ; 

Heart  vibrates  to  heart,  as,  for  ever  replying, 
Unwearied  they  chant  in  antiphonal  choir. 


568  THE  FATHER'S  HOUSE: 

The  heart  of  man  craves  sympathy.  Our  sorrows  are 
lessened  and  our  joys  increased  a  hundredfold  if  we  find  a 
loving  heart  with  whom  we  can  share  them.  All  the 
pleasures  that  heart  can  desire  grow  cold  and  wearisome  if 
partaken  of  alone.  When  Adam  was  created,  he  was  placed 
in  the  garden  of  Paradise  ;  he  had  there  every  pleasure 
that  heart  and  soul  could  wish,  and  yet  he  was  not  fully 
happy  until  God  gave  him  a  companion  with  whom  he 
could  share  his  happiness. 

In  heaven  our  joys  will  be  shared  by  companions  adorned 
with  ravishing  beauty,  resplendent  with  living  light,  each 
one  of  whom  is  king  or  queen  of  a  never-ending  kingdom. 
In  heaven  each  one  of  the  blessed  helps  to  increase  tho 
unutterable  happiness  of  all  the  others.  If  a  light  be 
placed  in  the  midst  of  several  mirrors,  it  will  be  reflected 
and  increased  by  each  mirror.  So  in  heaven  the  happiness 
of  each  of  the  blessed  is  reflected  and  increased  by  the  joys 
of  the  others.  How  great,  then,  must  be  the  happiness  of 
the  blessed,  since  their  own  endless  joy  is  increased  as  many 
times  as  there  are  blessed  in  heaven  !  And  the  number  of 
the  blessed  is  so  immensely  great  that  no  human  mind  can 
grasp  it.  The  number  of  the  angels  alone  is  all  but  infinite. 
The  prophet  Daniel  was  shown  a  vision  of  God  seated  upon 
a  throne  of  majesty,  and  he  says  that  thousands  of 
thousands  ministered  unto  Him,  and  that  ten  thousand 
times  a  hundred  thousand  stood  before  Him.*  SL  John, 
too,  beheld  the  countless  multitude  of  the  blessed,  and  he 
says  :  "  Behold  I  saw  a  vast  multitude,  which  no  man  could 
number,  of  all  nations  and  tribes  and  tongues,  standing 
before  the  throne,  clothed  with  white  robes  and  palms  in 
their  hands.  These  are  they  who  have  come  out  of  great 
tribulation,  and  have  washed  their  robes  and  made  them 
white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  They  shall  not  hunger  or 
thirst  any  more,  neither  shall  the  sun  scorch  them,  nor  any 
*  Dan.  vii.  10. 


HE  A  VEN.  569 

heat.  For  the  Lamb  shall  lead  them  to  the  fountains  of  the 
waters  of  life,  and  God  shall  wipe  away  the  tears  from  their 
eyes." 

How  inconceivable,  then,  must  be  the  joy  of  the  blessed, 
since  their  own  happiness  is  increased  as  many  times  as 
there  are  angels  and  saints  in  heaven  !  But  how  to  express 
the  joy  which  the  blessed  soul  experiences  when  sKe  meets 
once  more  those  beloved  ones  from  whom  she  parted  with 
such  sad  regret. 

A  vessel  was  returning  home  after  a  cruise  of  many  years. 
As  soon  as  it  neared  the  coast,  not  only  the  passengers  but 
even  the  sailors  on  board  were  filled  with  unutterable  joy. 
They  had  been  absent  for  many  long  years,  and  as  soon  as 
they  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  their  native  land  they  be 
came  incapable  of  doing  any  more  work.  The  nearer  they 
drew,  the  more  excited  they  became.  Some  stood  all  alone, 
talking  to  themselves  ;  others  laughed,  others  wept  for  very 
joy.  They  stood  gazing  at  the  land,  unable  to  turn  away 
their  eyes.  They  seemed  never  weary  of  looking  up,  over 
the  verdure  of  the  hills,  the  foliage  of  the  trees,  the  rocks 
on  the  shore  covered  with  moss  and  sea-weed.  All  these 
objects  were  dear  and  sacred  in  their  eyes.  It  was  home — 
their  native  land.  They  saw  the  steeples  of  the  villages  in 
which  they  were  born ;  they  knew  them,  though  at  a  dis 
tance,  and  the  sight  filled  them  with  unbounded  joy.  At 
length,  when  the  ship  entered  the  harbor,  when  they  saw 
on  shore  their  fathers,  their  mothers,  their  wives  and  chil 
dren,  their  brothers  and  sisters,  their  friends,  stretching 
out  their  hands  to  them,  laughing  and  weeping  for  joy,  and 
calling  them  by  name,  it  was  impossible  to  keep  a  single  man 
on  board.  They  all  leaped  on  shore,  and  the  crew  of  an 
other  ship  had  to  be  employed  to  do  the  work  of  the  vessel. 

If  the  joy  of  these  poor  men  was  so  great  on  returning  tc 
their  native  land,  how  unutterably  great  will  be  the  joy  of 
the  soul  when  she  enters  her  true  home  for  ever  !  How  un- 


570  THE  FATHER'S  HOUSE: 

utterably  great  will  be  her  joy  when  she  meets  again  tnose 
beloved  ones  from  whom  she  has  been  parted  through  sc 
many  weary  years  of  grief  and  pain  !  Persons  have  been 
known  to  die  of  joy ;  and  in  truth,  if  ever  the  soul  could 
die,  she  would  die  then  of  excessive  joy. 

Some  years  ago  a  young  man  was  forced  to  quil  his  native 
land  and  his  beloved  parents  to  seek  his  fortune  in  this 
country.  He  loved  his  parents  and  he  loved  his  home 
dearly,  and  indeed  the  parting  was  a  sad  one.  But  his  was 
not  that  weak  love  which  dies  away  as  soon  as  it  is  borne  to 
a  foreign  clime.  Every  wave  of  the  ocean,  every  hour  of 
time  that  widened  the  separation  between  him  and  his 
parents,  only  increased  and  strengthened  his  love.  After 
many  years  of  patient  toil  he  succeeded  in  amassing  consid 
erable  wealth.  His  first  care  now  was  to  send  for  his 
aged  father,  who  was  yet  living,  and  whom  he  had  neve? 
forgotten.  The  money  was  sent  and  the  answer  came.  The 
day  and  the  vessel  were  named  on  which  the  father  was  to 
embark.  At  last  the  glad  tidings  came — the  ship  had  ar 
rived.  His  aged  father  was  on  board.  The  son  hastened 
to  the  vessel.  One  moment  more,  and  father  and  son  were 
locked  in  each  other's  arms.  What  a  moment  of  wild  joy 
for  the  son  !  All  the  sad  and  joyous  memories  of  the  past 
— his  father's  love,  the  farewell  kiss,  the  parting  tear,  the 
long,  weary  years  of  separation — came  rushing  into  his  soul 
and  choked  his  voice.  But,  alas  1  the  joy  was  too  great ;  his 
loving  heart  broke,  and  he  died  of  excessive  joy  in  his  fa 
ther's  arms. 

He  who  has  loved  dearly  and  in  truth,  and  lost  the  object 
of  his  affections,  alone  can  understand  the  joy  of  such  a 
meeting.  There  we  shall  meet  again  a  loving  mother, 
whom  we  have  learned  to  love  and  esteem  in  truth  only 
when  we  have  lost  her.  There  we  shall  meet  again  a  fond 
father,  a  loving  brother  or  sister.  There  we  shall  meet 
again  those  beloved  ones  whose  absence  we  have  mourned 


HE  A  YEN.  571 

If  rough  years  of  pain  and  sorrow.  We  shail  meet  them 
again,  we  shall  embrace  them,  we  shall  press  them  to  our 
hearts,  and  God  shall  wipe  away  every  tear  and  heal  every 
broken  heart.  And  we  shall  love  them  without  fear  of  sep. 
aration — we  shall  love  and  possess  them  for  ever  and  ever. 

There  we  shall  see,  for  the  first  time,  that  most  loving 
Mother  who  has  loved  us  with  undying  love,  in  spite  of  all 
our  ingratitude.  We  shall  kiss  those  blessed  hands  that 
have  been  so  often  stretched  out  to  save  us  whilst  we  were 
straying  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice.  There  we  shall 
gaze  on  those  loving  eyes  that  wept  for  us  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross,  that  smiled -with  joy  when  we  returned  to  the  path  of 
innocence  and  virtue.  There  we  shall  gaze  upon  that  bless 
ed  face  which  is  the  delight  of  Jesus  and  of  the  blessed  in 
heaven.  We  shall  listen  to  the  loving  voice  of  our  holy 
Mother  Mary,  and  hear  from  her  lips  the  sweet  words  : 
"Welcome,  my  child,  welcome  home  at  last !" 

And  there  we  shall  see  Jesus,  our  Saviour  and  our  God, 
in  all  His  glory.  We  shall  look  upon  that  blessed  face  on 
which  the  angels  long  to  gaze;  we  shall  see  His  sacred  heart, 
burning  with  unutterable  love;  and  His  blessed  wounds, 
shining  with  dazzling  brightness. 

Oh  !  if  heaven,  if  the  angels  and  saints,  are  so  beautiful, 
how  beautiful  must  be  Jesus  Himself,  the  King,  the  Creator 
of  heaven  !  St.  Peter  was  one  day  taken  up  to  the  summit 
of  Mount  Thabor,  and  he  there  beheld  a  faint  glimpse  of 
our  dear  Lord's  unutterable  beauty.  Jesus  was  transfigured 
before  him,  and  His  face  shone  more  brightly  than  the  sun, 
and  His  garments  were  winter  than  snow.  St.  Peter  wns 
so  overjoyed  at  the  sight  of  this  ravishing  beauty  that  he 
cried  aloud,  in  a  rapturous  transport:  "  0  Lord  !  it  is  good 
for  us  to  be  here  !"  And  he  wished  forthwith  to  dwell 
upon  Mount  Thabor  for  ever.  * 

How  shall  we  cry  aloud  for  joy  when  we  behold  the  un- 
feiled  beauty  of  Jesus  in  all  His  ravishing  splendor  !  "0 


572  THE  FATHER'S  HOUSE: 

Lord  !  it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here.  Let  us  dwell  here 
for  ever." 

How  often  during  holy  Mass  have  we  not  longed  to  see 
Jesus  face  to  face,  and  when  we  pressed  Him  to  our  heart 
in  Holy  Communion  !  How  often  have  we  not  yearned  to 
behold  Him  in  the  innocent  beauty  of  childhood,  as  He  ap 
peared  to  the  shepherds  of  Bethlehem  !  How  often  have 
we  not  wished  that  we  had  seen  Him  in  the  bloom  of  boy 
hood,  as  He  swept  the  cottage  floor  and  drew  water  for  His 
mother,  or  as  He  confounded  the  proud  wisdom  of  the 
doctors  in  the  Temple  !  Who  is  there  that  has  not  wished 
to  have  seen  Him  in  the  vigor  of  manhood,  as  He  walked 
on  the  sea  of  Galilee,  or  ascended  the  mountain  to  teach 
the  eager  crowds  that  followed  Him,  thirsting  after  the 
Word  of  Life  ?  Who  would  not  wish  to  have  seen  our  dear 
and  compassionate  Redeemer  as  He  stood  beside  that  tomb 
in  Bethany  and  wept,  and  then,  with  the  almighty  voice 
of  a  God,  commanded  the  dead  Lazarus  to  arise  and  come 
forth  ? 

And  oh  !  how  often  have  we  noi  yearned  to  have  seen 
Him  on  that  blessed  farewell  night,  when  He  instituted  the 
sacrifice  of  the  New  Covenant,  and  left  us  His  virgin  flesh 
to  be  our  food  and  His  loving  heart's  blood  to  be  our  drink  ! 
How  often  have  we  not  wished  to  have  stood  beneath  Him 
whilst  He  hung  on  the  cross  for  our  sins,  that  we  might 
gather  every  drop  of  His  precious  blood,  and  hear  from  His 
own  lips  those  loving  words:  "  Son,  behold  thy  mother  !  " 
How  great  would  be  our  joy  could  we  have  seen  our  Lord 
Jesus  as  He  arose  from  the  sealed  tomb,  triumphant  over 
death  and  hell  ;  and  finally,  could  we  have  seen  Him  as  He 
ascended  to  His  throne  of  majesty  in  heaven  !  Truly,  on 
that  day,  as  the  prophet  had  foretold,  "  the  moon  did  shine 
as  the  sun,  and  the  sun  shone  with  sevenfold  brightness, 
like  the  brightness  of  seven  days."  And  now  in  heaven  all 
these  wishes  shall  be  gratified.  We  shall  see  Jesus  face  to 


HE  A  VEN.  673 

face.  We  shall  see  our  Father,  our  blessed  Redeemer,  our 
divine  Spouse.  We  shall  hear  from  His  blessed  lips  those 
words  of  joy  :  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  possess  the 
kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  ^the 
world. "  "  Arise,  my  love,  my  dove,  my  beautiful  one.  The 
winter  is  now  passed.  The  summer  has  come  ;  arise,  my 
love,  receive  thy  crown.  Thou  shalt  sit  with  me  now  upon 
my  throne,  for  thou  hast  conquered." 

And  there  in  heaven  not  only  our  souls  but  our  bodies 
also  will  be  perfect  in  beauty  and  in  happiness.  Our  bodies 
shall  resemble  the  glorified  body  of  Jesus  Christ  Himself. 
We  may  now  pass  unnoticed  and  despised,  because  we  are 
not  gifted  with  beauty  ;  but  have  patience.  Only  a  few 
years  more  of  sorrow  and  trial,  only  a  few  years  more  of 
humiliation  and  generous  self-denial,  and  our  body  shall 
be  bright  and  beautiful  as  an  angel  of  God. 

The  body  now  is  heavy  and  wearisome,  and  needs  rest ; 
it  can  move  only  slowly  from  place  to  place  ;  but  in  heaven 
it  will  be  glorified  like  the  body  of  Jesus;  it  shall  pass  from 
place  to  place  more  swiftly  than  the  wind,  more  suddenly 
than  the  lightning  ;  from  star  to  star,  through  the  wide 
expanse  of  the  boundless  universe. 

Our  body  now  is  composed  of  gross,  impenetrable  matter ; 
but  in  heaven  it  will  become  refined,  subtile,  gifted  with 
the  qualities  of  a  spirit.  It  will  be  able  to  pass  through  the 
wall,  through  the  hardest  stone,  as  a  sunbeam  passes 
through  glass. 

Now  we  suffer  from  heat  and  cold,  from  hunger  and 
thirst,  from  weariness  and  pain,  from  sickness,  from  sad 
ness  of  heart,  from  all  the  ills  of  this  weary  life,  which 
will  only  end  with  the  agonies  of  death.  But  in  heaven 
there  will  be  no  more  pain,  no  more  sadness;  we  shall  never 
again  endure  the  bitter  pangs  of  death,  but  become  beau 
tiful,  glorious,  impassible,  incorruptible. 

Here  on  earth  ve  are  never  satisfied  ;  we  always  crav« 


574  THE  FAWNER'S  HOUSE  • 

for  something  more,  something  higher,,  something  better ; 
whence  comes  this  continual  restlessness  which  haunts  us 
through  life,  and  even  pursues  us  to  the  grave  ?  It  is  the 
homesickness  of  the  soul,  its  craving  after  God.  Our  soul 
was  created  for  God,  and  until  we  can  see  and  enjoy  God 
we  can  never  find  true  rest  and  peace.  But  in  heaven  we 
shall  be  happy  even  to  the  fullest  extent  of  our  desires,  for 
we  shall  possess  the  source  of  all  happiness — God  Himself. 

Our  Lord  says  in  the  Gospel:  "Well  done,  good  and 
faithful  servant  ;  because  thou  hast  been  faithful  over  a  few 
things,  I  will  place  thee  over  many  things:  enter  thou  into 
the  joy  of  thy  Lord."  *  Our  Lord  does  not  say  that  His 
joy  and  happiness  is  to  enter  into  His  servant,  but  that  His 
faithful  servant  is  to  enter  into  His  joy.  Were  we  told 
to  receive  into  ourselves  all  the  water  of  the  sea,  we  should 
say,  "How  can  this  be  done  ?  It  is  utterly  impossible." 
But  were  we  bade  to  plunge  into  the  water  of  the  sea,  we 
should  see  no  impossibility  in  this.  Now,  our  Lord  is  an 
infinite  ocean  of  joy  and  happiness.  Impossible  for  the  soul 
to  receive  this  happiness  all  into  herself,  but  most  easy  for 
her  to  enter  into  this  ocean  of  happiness  when  our  Lord 
tells  her:  "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant:  enter 
into  the  joy  of  the  Lord."  In  the  very  instant  that  the 
soul  hears  these  words,  she  sees,  by  the  light  of  glory,  the 
infinite  beauty  of  God  face  to  face;  she  is  at  once  filled, 
and  as  it  were  all  consumed,  with  love  ;  she  is  lost  and 
immersed  in  that  boundless  ocean  of  the  goodness  of  God  ; 
she  forgets  herself,  passing  over  into  God  and  dissolving 
into  Him ;  the  Lord  communicates  Himself  substantially 
to  her,  giving  Himself  up  to  her  in  a  manner  most  sweet 
and  intimate.  On  this  account  St.  John  says :  "  Behold 
the  tabernacle  of  God  with  men  ;  and  He  will  dwell  with 
Uiem :  and  they  shall  be  His  people,  and  God  Himself, 
with  them,  shall  be  their  God."  f  "He  that  shall  over- 
*  Matt .  xxv.  38.  t  Apoc .  xxi .  S. 


HE  A  VEN.  575 

come  shall  possess  these  things :  and  I  will  be  his  God,  and 
he  shall  be  my  son."* 

As  a  king  is  always  with  his  people,  a  father  with  his 
children,  a  teacher  with  his  pupils,  so  God  will  always  be 
with  the  elect  in  heaven,  recreating  and  feeding  them,  and 
filling  them  with  numberless  delights  and  unspeakable  hap 
piness.  They  will  constantly  enjoy  his  presence,  which 
was  hidden  from  them  here  below ;  they  will  see  God,  and 
speak  to  Him  face  to  face,  and  He  will  penetrate  them  with 
ineffable  sweetness  and  consolation;  for  "He  shall  be  their 
God,"  their  Father,  their  Protector,  their  Glorifier,  their 
All. 

"  He  will  be  their  God  "  ;  that  is,  He  will  be  all  their  joy, 
all  their  honor,  all  their  wisdom,  all  their  riches,  all  their 
good  ;  so  that  the  blessed  exclaim,  with  the  Psalmist,  "  For 
what  have  I  in  heaven,  and  besides  Thee  what  do  I  desire 
upon  earth  ?  "  f  and  with  St.  Francis,  ' '  My  God,  my  lore, 
and  my  all."  Each  one  will  possess  God  whole  and  entire; 
for  God  will  give  Himself  up  to  each  one  as  much  as  He 
will  give  Himself  to  all  together,  so  that  every  one  will 
enjoy  and  possess  God  as  completely  as  if  God  belonged  to 
him  alone.  "  I  shall  be  thy  exceedingly  great  reward,'* 
said  God  to  Abraham.  "Thou,  my  Lord,  art  my  portion 
in  the  land  of  the  living."  If  a  king  sits  on  an  derated 
throne,  he  is  seen  equally  well  by  all  ;  he  is  present  to  all 
at  the  same  time,  and  each  one  enjoys  his  presence  as  much 
as  the  whole  assembly  does ;  so  God  is  seen  by  the  blessed 
as  an  immense  sun,  as  it  were,  and  enjoyed  and  possessed 
by  each  one  in  particular  as  well  as  by  all  together ;  and 
just  as  fine  music  fills  the  ear  of  every  individual  with  as 
much  delight  as  it  does  a  large  assembly,  so  God  communi 
cates  Himself,  and  all  He  has  and  is,  to  every  one  just  as 
much  as  He  does  to  all.  Thus  all  and  each  one  will,  like  a 
fish  in  the  water,  swim  in  this  ocean  of  God's  happiness 
*Apoc.xxi.7.  tPs.lxxii.25. 


676  THE  FATHER'S  HOUSE: 

and  delight ;  being  made  partakers  of  the  divine  nature; 
they  enjoy  true,  solid,  immense,  and  incomprehensible  hap 
piness.  They  will  retain,  it  is  true,  their  own  nature,  but 
they  shall  assume  a  certain  admirable  and  almost  divine 
form,  so  as  to  seem  to  be  gods  rather  than  men. 

As  a  sponge  thrown  -into  water  becomes  quite  penetrated 
and  saturated  with  it,  so  do  the  blessed  become  penetrated 
with  the  divine  essence  when  entering  into  the  joy  of  the 
Lord.  If  an  iron  be  placed  in  the  fire,  it  soon  looks  like 
fire;  it  becomes  fire  itself,  yet  without  losing  its  nature. 
In  like  manner  the  soul,  transformed  into  God  by  the  light 
of  glory,  though  it  retains  its  being,  is  like  unto  God. 

In  virtue  of  this  union  they  become  pure  like  God,  holy 
like  God,  powerful,  wise,  and  happy  like  God.  He  will 
transform  them  into  Himself,  not  by  the  destruction  of 
their  being,  but  by  uniting  it  to  His.  He  will  communicate 
to  them  His  own  nature,  His  greatness,  His  strength,  His 
knowledge,  His  sanctity,  His  riches  and  felicity.  In  the 
plenitude  of  their  joy  the  blessed  will  exclaim:  "  Oh  !  it 
is  good  for  us  to  be  here." 

God,  then,  will  fill  the  souls  of  the  blessed  with  the 
plenitude  of  His  light ;  He  will  fill  their  will  with  the  abund 
ance  of  His  peace  ;  He  will  fill  their  memory  with  the 
extent  of  his  eternity ;  He  will  fill  their  essence  with  the 
purity  of  His  being ;  and  He  will  fill  all  their  senses  and 
the  powers  of  their  soul  with  the  immensity  of  His  benefits 
and  the  infinity  of  His  riches.  They  see  Him  as  He  is ; 
they  love  Him  without  defect ;  they  behold  Him,  the 
Source  of  all  beauty,  and  this  sight  ravishes  their  mind ; 
they  see  Him,  the  Source  of  all  goodness,  and  the  con 
templation  thereof  satiates  their  souls  with  enjoyment. 
0  sweet  occupation  !  0  inestimabk  happiness  ! 

But  that  which  shall  fill  up  the  measure  of  the  happiness 
of  the  saints  is  "that  it  will  never  end."  Here  on  earth 
all  our  joys  are  fleeting,  and  even  those  pleasures  that 


HEAVEN.  £77 

remain  soon  Income  insipid  and  wearisome.  We  easily 
become  accustomed  even  to  the  highest  honors  and  to  the 
sweetest  pleasures.  All  the  pleasures  of  this  life  are  like 
the  apples  of  Sodom,  that  grow  near  the  Dead  Sea— beauti 
ful  to  the  eye,  but  to  the  taste  wormwood  and  gall. 

How  different  are  the  oys  of  heaven  !  There  our  joy  is 
ever  new.  We  shall  have  all  that  heart  can  desire  or  soul 
conceive  ;  and  the  more  we  taste  of  heaven's  joys,  the  more 
we  love  and  desire  them. 

Here  on  earth,  no  matter  how  great  our  joys,  no  matter 
how  sweet  our  pleasures,  they  are  always  embittered  by  the 
thought  of  death.  We  may  be  rich,  and  are  happy  in  our 
riches,  but  death  conies  and  tears  us  away  from  all  we 
covet ;  others  shall  spend  what  we  have  hoarded  with  so 
much  care. 

We  are  beautiful,  perhaps,  and  vain  of  our  beauty ;  but 
sickness  comes,  and  all  the  beauty  is  faded.  Death  comes, 
and  the  fair  form  becomes  a  livid  mass  of  corruption,  to  be 
hidden  away  in  a  dark,  gloomy  vault,  lest  its  appearance  fill 
our  admirers  with  horror  and  disgust. 

We  are  blessed  with  faithful  Mends  and  loving  hearts, 
that  sympathize  with  us,  that  rejoice  in  our  joy,  and  weep 
in  our  sorrow  ;  we  have  a  faithful  wife  or  fond  husband, 
good,  loving  children,  and  are  happy  in  their  company  ;  but 
death  comes  and  tears  away  from  our  arms  that  friend,  that 
loved  one,  and  all  our  happiness  is  changed  into  mourning  ! 
This  earth  is  indeed  a  vale  of  tears !  But  let  us  lift  up 
our  hearts.  Look  up  to  heaven.  In  heaven  our  tears  shall 
be  dried.  In  heaven  there  shall  be  no  death,  no  separation. 
In  heaven  our  joys  shall  never  end.  In  heaven  we  shall 
praise  God  for  ever,  love  God  for  ever,  possess  God  for  ever. 

O  happiness  that  never  ends!  O  holy  Sion,  where 
all  remains,  and  nothing  passes  away  ;  where  all  is  found, 
and  nothing  is  wanting;  where  all  is  sweet,  and  nothing 
wJiore  all  is  calm,  and  nothing  is  a^itatod  !  O 


578  THE  FATHER'S  HOUSE: 

happy  land,  whose  roses  are  without  thorns  ;  where  peace 
reigns  without  combats,  and  where  health  is  found  without 
sickness,  and  life  without  death  !  0  holy  Thabor !  0 
palace  of  the  living  God  !  0  celestial  Jerusalem,  where 
the  blessed  sing  eternally  the  beautiful  canticles  of  Sion '! 

This  happiness,  even  when  enjoyed  as  many  years  as  there 
are  drops  in  the  ocean,  leaves  in  the  forest,  sands  on  the 
sea-shore,  will  be  still  just  as  new,  just  as  great,  just  as  de 
lightful,  just  as  incomprehensible,  just  as  imperishable,  as 
in  the  first  moment  when  entering  into  the  soul.  At  each 
moment  God  has  ready  new  joys,  new  delights,  new  plea 
sures,  new  beauties,  new  sources  of  joy. 

Truly,  were  the  happiness  of  the  blessed  not  so  great  as 
it  is,  the  Son  of  God  would  not  have  paid  so  high  a  price 
to  obtain  it  for  us ;  He  would  not  have  become  man,  and 
spent  a  life  of  thirty-three  years  in  poverty,  contradictions, 
and  all  sorts  of  sufferings.  He  would  not  have  ended  it  on 
an  infamous  cross;  nor  would  He  have  given  the  great 
powers  He  has  given  to  his  ministers,  such  as  to  forgive 
sins,  to  change  bread  and  wine  into  His  Body  and  Blood. 
The  true  servants  of  God,  of  all  ages,  were  deeply  penetrated 
with  this  truth.  Hence  they  were  willing  to  undergo  any  kind 
of  torment  and  pain,  even  the  loss  of  their  lives,  under  the 
most  trying  and  acute  sufferings,  rather  than  forfeit  ever 
lasting  happiness.  Thousands  of  ways  were  found  out  by 
devilish  malice  to  torture  the  followers  of  Christ.  And 
the  martyrs  underwent  all  these  sufferings  for  the  sake  of 
heaven. 

Kings,  queens,  princes,  emperors,  have  renounced  the  world 
and  shut  themselves  up  in  convents  and  solitudes  to  make  sure 
of  heaven  by  a  holy  life.  And  heaven  was  worth  all  this, 
and  more  too ;  for  St.  Paul  has  said  with  truth  :  "  I  reckon 
that  the  sufferings  of  this  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  com 
pared  with  the  glory  to  come,  that  shall  be  revealed  in  us." 
St.  Cyril,  while  yet  a  child,  became  a  Christian,  in  con- 


HE  A  VUN.  579 

sequence  of  which  he  was  maltreated,  and  finally  turned 
out  of  doors  by  his  idolatrous  father.  He  was  led  before 
the  judge,  and  accused  of  frequently  invoking  the  name 
of  Jesus.  The  judge  promised  the  child  to  bring  about 
a  reconciliation  with  his  father,  on  condition  that  he 
would  never  more  pronounce  that  name.  The  holy  child 
replied:  "I  am  content  to  be  turned  out  of  my  father's 
house,  because  I  shall  receive  a  more  spacious  mansion  in 
heaven  ;  nor  do  I  fear  death,  because  by  it  I  shall  acquire  a 
better  life."  The  judge,  in  order  to  frighten  Cyril,  caused 
him  to  be  bound  and  led,  as  it  were,  to  the  place  of  execu 
tion,  but  gave  private  orders  to  the  executioner  not  to  hurt 
him.  The  holy  child  was  accordingly  brought  before  a  great 
fire  and  threatened  to  be  thrown  in  ;  but  being  most  willing 
to  lay  down  his  life,  he  was  brought  back  to  the  judge,  who 
said  to  him  :  "My  child,  thou  hast  seen  the  fire  ;  cease,  then, 
to  be  a  Christian,  that  thou  mayest  return  to  thy  father's 
house  and  inherit  thy  estates."  The  saint  replied  :  "  I  fear 
neither  fire  nor  the  sword,  but  I  desire  a  dwelling  more 
magnificent,  and  riches  more  lasting,  than  those  of  my 
father  I  God  will  receive  me.  Do  thou  hasten  to  put  me 
to  death,  that  I  may  quickly  go  to  enjoy  Him. " 

The  bystanders  wept  to  hear  the  child  speak  thus,  but  he 
observed :  "  You  should  not  weep,  but  rather  rejoice,  and  en 
courage  me  to  suffer,  in  order  that  I  may  attain  to  the  posses 
sion  of  that  house  which  I  so  ardently  desire."  Remaining 
constant  in  these  sentiments,  he  joyfully  suffered  death. 

In  all  our  joys  or  sorrows  let  us  turn  our  eyes  constantly 
towards  our  true  home;  let  us  look  up  to  heaven,  to  the 
mansion  of  our  Father,  the  palace  of  His  glory,  the  temple 
of  His  holiness,  and  the  throne  of  His  grandeur  and  mag 
nificence  ;  the  land  of  the  living,  the  centre  of  our  rest,  the 
term  of  our  movements,  the  end  of  our  miseries,  the  place 
of  the  nuptials  of  the  Lamb,  the  feast  of  God  and  His  holy 


680  THE  FATHERS 

Are  we  poor  ?  Let  us  think  of  the  boundless  riches  that 
await  us  in  heaven.  Are  we  sickly  and  suffering  ?  Let  us 
think  of  the  joys  of  a  glorified  body  incapable  of  pain  or 
weariness.  Are  we  despised  and  down-trodden  ?  Let  us 
think  of  the  glory  of  being  honored  by  Jesus  Christ  in  pre 
sence  of  the  angels  and  men.  Does  our  heart  bleed  because 
we  have  lost  a  dear  friend,  a  beloved  relative  ?  Let  us  look 
up  to  heaven  !  We  shall  find  the  lost  friend,  the  dear 
relative,  among  the  angels  and  saints  of  God. 

If  the  Israelites  underwent  so  many  labors  and  hardships 
for  forty  years  in  order  to  enter  the  Promised  Land,  with  what 
untiring  fervor  should  not  we  labor  in  order  to  gain  heaven, 
that  true  Land  of  Promise,  where  we  shall  have  in  abun 
dance  everything  we  desire  ! 

I  know  not  what  you  may  think  ;  I  know  not  what  reso 
lutions  you  may  have  taken  in  this  consideration  of  heaven; 
but  as  for  me,  I  am  resolved,  with  the  grace  of  God,  to 
make  every  sacrifice,  but  I  must  gain  heaven.  Were  I  to 
lose  my  eyes,  I  am  content,  but  I  must  open  them  one  day 
in  the  light  of  glory ;  I  must  gaze  on  the  beauties  of  heaven 
Were  I  to  lose  my  hearing,  I  shall  not  repine,  but  I  must 
listen  one  day  to  the  choirs  of  the  angels  ;  my  ears  must 
drink  in  the  ravishing  melody  of  heaven.  Were  I  forced  to 
remain  silent  all  the  days  of  my  life  I  am  willing  to  do  so, 
but  I  must  one  day  sing,  with  the  blessed  in  heaven,  the 
glorious  canticle  of  praise  and  gladness.  Were  I  to  become 
lame  and  helpless  for  life,  and  were  I  doomed  to  drag  out  a 
long,  weary  existence  in  misery  and  pain,  I  shall  not  mur 
mur  ;  but  I  must  one  day  arise  with  a  glorified  body,  with 
a  beautiful  body  gifted  with  swiftness  and  splendor  and  im 
passibility.  And  should  I  be  hated  and  despised  and  down 
trodden  for  God's  sake,  I  shall  bear  it  patiently,  but  I  must 
one  day  be  honored  by  Jesus,  in  presence  of  all  men — in 
presence  of  the  angels  and  saints — in  presence  of  heaven 
and  earth. 


NBA  YEN.  581 

Though  I  am  obliged  to  bid  farewell  to  father  and  mother, 
and  to  brother  and  sister,  and  though  I  am  forced  to  part 
from  the  nearest  and  dearest,  with  the  grace  of  God  I  shal] 
make  the  sacrifice,  even  though  my  poor  heart  should  bleed ; 
but  I  must  one  day  find  a  father  and  a  mother,  a  brother 
and  a  sister,  in  the  company  of  the  angels  and  saints  of 
God. 

Whatever  it  may  cost -me,  even  had  I  to  suffer  all  the 
torments  of  all  the  martyrs,  I  must  one  day  see  Mary  in  all 
her  glory  and  beauty.  I  must  love  and  live  for  ever  with 
her  who  is  the  gloxious  Mother  of  God  and  my  own  Mo 
ther.  Whatever  it  may  cost  me,  even  though  1  had  to  pass 
through  all  the  torments  of  hell,  I  must  one  day  see  my 
God  face  to  face.  I  must  love  Him,  I  must  be  transformed 
into  Him  by  the  power  of  His  burning  love,  and  say  for  all 
eternity  •  "  Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven." 


DULLER,  Kichael. 
The  Prodigal  Son. 


3Q 
7077 


P8