CHAP. XII.

On Sorrow.

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WITH regard to such a kind of sadness as depresses and contracts the heart, there are two rules, the observation of which seem to me of great importance. The first is, to remove this sorrow by such means as God has furnished us with: for example, not to burden ourselves with laborious business, so as to sink under a load greater than we are able to bear; to spare not only the powers of the body, but likewise those of the mind, by not undertaking things wherein we depend too much upon our own strength; to set apart hours for prayer, for reading, for enlivening our spirits by pious, nay even by cheerful conversation, so as at once to recreate both our bodies and minds, suitable to our necessity. should also have some wise and discreet person to whom we might unburden our hearts of every thing excepting the secrets of another; for this is a comfort that peculiarly eases a troubled heart. Troubles too long retained in the heart, frequently burst it; whereas if we could vent them, we should see they were not deserving of all the bitterness they caused. Nothing draws the soul so effectually out of a certain gloominess, as simplicity and poverty of spirit, by which at the expense of its vanity, it confesses its want of courage, seeking that light and consolation which should be found by the children of God in their communion with each other. The second rule is peacefully to bear all involuntary emotions of sorrow, which we suffer notwithstanding the above

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mentioned precautions. Inward discouragements above all other things, expedite our progress in the road of faith, provided they do not stop us, and that the slothfulness of the soul does not yield to this sorrow, which if permitted, would conquer all its powers. A step taken in this state, is always the step of a giant, and is more valuable than a thousand taken when the soul is in a more sweet and comfortable disposition. We must then, despising our cowardice, march forwards, which will render this state of weakness more profitable, than that of the most heroic strength. This sensible courage, which renders every thing easy, which does and suffers all things, is often deceitful, as it nourishes self confidence and a certain elevation of heart. This courage,

though sometimes wonderfully edifying to the world, nourishes within us a secret satisfaction and inward testimony, which is a subtile poison. We relish our own virtue, are delighted with it, we would possess it, and are pleased with its strength. A weak and humble soul who finds no resource in itself, who fears, is troubled, and sorrowful even unto death, like our Lord in the garden, and lastly, who cries out as he did on the cross, "my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" is vastly more purified, more despised by itself, and more dead to all the desires of self, than those brave souls who enjoy in peace the fruits of their virtue. Happy soul that is thus bruised by God, that he thus crushes to pieces, and whom he deprives of all strength in itself, that it may be supported only by him; who is sensible of its own poverty and is content; who bears besides outward crosses, this great inward one of the desponding of the heart, without which all others avail but little.

CHAP. XIII.

On Watchfulness.

THAT watchfulness which Jesus Christ requires in the gospel, is a faithful attention always to love and accomplish the will of God in the present moment, according as God discovers it to you: but does not consist in incessantly tormenting and busying ourselves about ourselves, instead of raising our eyes to God, from whence cometh our only help against ourselves, Why under pretence of watching, do we endeavour to discover what God would not have us see during this life? Why do we lose the fruit of pure faith and inward peace? Why turn from the presence of God, which he is willing always to afford us? He has not said, be ye yourselves the constant object of your attention; but "walk before me, and be thou perfect." David full of this spirit has said, "I have set the Lord always before me:" and again, “Mine eyes are ever looking unto the Lord: for he shall pluck my feet out of the net." Though his danger is in his feet, his eyes are looking upward: it is less useful to think of our danger than of the assistance of God. Besides in God we see all; in him we see both human misery and divine goodness; one glance alone of a pure and upright heart, be it ever so simple, sees all things in that infinite light.

O my God, provided I cease not to see thee, I shall not cease to see myself and all my wretchedness. When outward occupations prevent me from seeing thee, I

shall at least, O Lord, see thee doing all in all; with joy I shall every where behold thy work fufilled both within and without me, and shall perpetually say with the blessed, "Amen." "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me." I will seek no danger, nor enter into any engagement, unless encouraged by thee, so that I may derive strength and consolation from the reflection, that it is according to thy providence; and even in those states where I am sustained by being in them according to thy vocation, every day, hour, or moment that is at my own disposal, will I dedicate to prayer, recollection and retirement; never will I quit this. blessed state, unless called by thee to some outward function. Then in appearance shall I go out of thee, yet wilt thou go with me and carry me as in thy arms.

CHAP. XIV.

On Fidelity in small matters.

ST. FRANCIS DE SALES says, that great virtues and little fidelities are like salt and sugar. Sugar has the the more exquisite taste, but is not so frequently used: on the contrary, salt is made use of with all food necessary to life. Great virtues are rare. The opportunity of practising them occurs but seldom. When it does, we are prepared for them by all that preceded them, we are excited to them by the greatness of the sacrifice, and supported in them either by the glory of the action in the eyes of others, or by a self compla-cency arising from the extraordinary effort we have

exerted in performing them. Trifles come unforeseen, they occur every instant, and incessantly make us contend with our pride, our sloth, our haughtiness, our passion and chagrin. They afford us constant opportunities of renouncing our own will without reserve. If we are faithful in them, nature has not time to breathe, but must die to all its inclinations. We would much rather perform certain great sacrifices, though they would be violent and painful, than be denied the liberty of following our own taste and disposition on all trifling occasions; nevertheless, it is only by a fidelity in small matters that the grace of pure love supports itself, and is distinguished from the transitory fervors of nature. It is in piety, as in the economy of temporal goods: we shall be sooner ruined by the neglect of trifles, than by great expenses. Whoever knows how to make small matters turn to the best account, will in spiritual as well as temporal affairs, amass great riches. The greatest sums are only small ones collected. He who lets nothing be lost, will soon grow rich.

Besides, we should consider that God does not so much regard our actions, as the motive of love which incites us to perform them, and the compliance he requires of our will. Men judge of our actions only by what appears outwardly, God accounts as nothing, all that is in them, most glaring in the eyes of men. What he would have, is a pure intention, a will ready for all things, and pliant in his hands, with a sincere detachment from ourselves. All this is often exercised with less danger to our pride, and in a way that tries us more severely, on common occasions, than on the most extraordinary. Nay we often value a trifle, more than a matter seemingly of great importance; we should