whom thou forgettest? Why dost thou not raise me up again, O thou life of my soul! O my salvation! why dost thou not heal me? I will not leave thee till thou hast changed me entirely into thee; I will embrace thy feet; I will remain fixed to them, and will follow thee whithersoever thou goest.

Wouldst thou have

IV. What dost thou desire of me, O Lord! me to repent, to amend my life, to love and serve thee, and to persevere in thy love and service? I will do it, O my God! as far as I am capable: yes, I will be wholly thine, to love thee always, and never to forsake thee; I will do whatever thou desirest me: support my will and my weakness. I am willing, but I neither know how I will nor how long this will shall remain. I even feel myself already drawn back towards the earth by my own miseries, which follow me in all places. It seems as if they were afraid I should forsake them, and my flesh prepares to assault me violently. Thou who supportest me by thy goodness, fight also for me by thy power. Defend me, O Lord! Let thy eyes behold in my soul the fruits of that so ancient and so paternal love. Destroy by the consuming fire of thy spirit, everything in me that displeases thee, and make me such as thou wouldst have me.

V. I cannot complain of thee, O Father of mercies! I can only complain of myself: for thou hast always filled my soul, how miserable soever it has been. Even when I fled from thee, thou didst take away the snares that were set before me. Thou didst put a stop to death's career, lest it should surprise me before I had returned to thee. Thou inspiredst me with what was profitable for me. Thou calledst me back in a thousand different manners. Thou didst often create me perplexing affairs, that being wholly employed, I might offend thee the less. Thou didst permit me to be tempted, to show me the danger I was in; and sometimes even to be overcome to convince me of my weakness. Thou didst reduce me to dreadful extremities, that I might be sensible of the necessity I had of thee; and though I have grievously sinned, I should have done it still more, if thy goodness had not deprived me of the occasions thereof.

Thou has never totally withdrawn thy hand; I have always experienced thy help, and thou hast even changed all things for me into good, even my sins; by permitting my presumption to be humbled. If I returned to thee, thou didst immediately receive me; and filledst me with the sweetness of thy presence. Thou didst bear with my lukewarmness; thou didst accept the weak desires of so imperfect a virtue; thou didst excite me to renew the resolutions of serving thee, and showedst me clearly in my infirmity, that I could not accomplish them without thy grace.

VI. I should never finish, if I were to relate all thy mercies in particular. For how many favours hast thou not bestowed on me? How many crimes hast thou not pardoned me? thou hast always

had paternal bowels towards me; thou hast not turned away thy countenance, in spite of the perfidies of my ungrateful heart, which promised thee everything, and performed nothing. Thou didst hear my desires, though thou foresawest the sterillity and inconstancy of them. I immediately returned back, thou beholdest my relapses, and bearest with them; thou didst sweetly raise me up again, and restoredst me to thy friendship, which I was basely to violate again shortly after. Was there ever beheld a father more meek, a mother more affectionate, or a friend more faithful?

What thanksgivings shall I render thee, O divine Jesus! I owe thee more than thy disciples did; they exercised thy patience only during three years, and I have fatigued it my whole life. They have spent the greater part of their life in thy love and service; and mine has entirely passed away in tepidity and sin.

I am more indebted to thy mercy, than all the world besides; for there are an infinity of men whom thou permittest to err in faith, whilst thou preservest me therein. Thou sufferedst them to adore idols, and follow delusions, whilst thou illuminatest me with the purest lights of thy truth. Thou permittest others to persevere until death in their disorders, whilst thou showest me mine, and givest me grace to forsake them, or at least, that of praying to thee for that end. In fine, thou pardonest me as many sins as I should commit, hadst thou not the goodness to preserve me from them.

I adore thee, O my Saviour! and thank thee as much as I am capable of, for all those favours, and for infinite others which I know not. Let all the saints and angels of heaven join with me in blessing thy holy name, and in singing thy mercies eternally.

VII. Thou, O Lord! who knowest that what hinders me from profiting by all those graces, is that I have not recourse to thee in all my necessities, and that I love something besides thee, which I love not for thee. Purify my heart from those unworthy attachments, and permit me not to have any other master, any other counsellor, any other judge, or any other friend but thee. For though in appearance, nothing but what is great can be agreeable to thy infinite greatness, yet I know, that pure simplicity pleases thee, that thou dost not judge it unworthy of thee, to enter into the particulars of our necessities, to take an account of our steps and motions. If thou knowest the number of the hairs of our head, and of the leaves of the trees; why shouldst thou not also know that of our looks, our breathings, our thoughts, our desires, and of all the moments of our lives.

If thou hadst appointed only one hour every year to give me audience, to supply my wants, and to declare thy will to me, ought I not to sigh after that hour during the whole year, and prepare myself to treat with thee, to hear thee, and to receive thy benefits, which would be the food of my soul for the whole ensuing year,

till the return of that happy hour? Whence comes it, then, that I do not converse with thee every moment, as with a wise and faithful friend, and with a powerful protector, whom neither the government of the universe, nor the weight of all eternity hinders. from thinking of me.

Why do not I come, in my troubles, to lay open my heart before thee, to expose to thee the words which offend me, the thoughts which grieve me, and every troublesome thing that befals me? Why do not I take care to offer thee all my actions, since thou vouchsafest to accept the little I do for thee? If I were faithful in this practice, thou wouldst heap blessings upon me; because if for tepid prayers, and for weak desires, thou grantest me a thousand times more graces than I can merit of myself; what would it be if I should offer thee all, and if I were wholly thine?

VIII. There is one thing wanting to me, O my God! which alone could restore me, and without which I do not even feel the evils which surround me on all sides; it is humility, which is the fountain of all blessings. Thou knowest, O Jesus! the most humble of all men! that I can only by it obtain the diffidence of myself, the fear of displeasing thee, and the happiness of sighing continually after thee: it alone can teach me how important it is for me to know thee, and I know how agreeable it is to thee. Humble me, therefore, as much as thou pleasest, O humble Jesus! establish in me that virtue which is so dear to thee, and which is the guardian of all others; that I may fear myself, seek thee and be entirely subject to thy conduct; and being disengaged from myself, I may live no longer but for thee, O divine Jesus! my master, my support, my comforter, my salvation, my love, my sovereign happiness, and my true life.

O most humble hand-maid, and most worthy Mother of God, you who never were separate from him; since he was not only content with being my refuge, but was also pleased that you should be my advocate, refuse me not your protection. Although you are exempt from my miseries, you are the daughter of Adam, take pity on your flesh, and obtain me the spirit which animated your conduct. And ye, O holy Apostles! who were the light of the world, procure me those graces of conversion which you carried through the whole world; compassionate my failings, since you were subject to the same, and beg for this poor sinner the Holy Ghost, who made you perfect. Amen.

EIGHTEENTH SUFFERING OF CHRIST.-His Journeys.

The divine shepherd began with his little flock to run over Palestine, and to gather together the strayed sheep of the house of Israel. His care extended further afterwards; and to fill up the

places of those, who by their blindness and obstinacy, were to reject his words, he prepared himself at that time to draw all the nations of the world unto him. But that the Jews might have no reason to complain, he omitted nothing on his part for their conversion; he declared to them the kingdom of Heaven, the law of grace, and the divine riches which he had brought them.

Although he was the true Messiah which God had promised them so long, whom their fathers had so earnestly desired, and whom they themselves ought to have sought after, since he particularly came for them; he sought them first in the profound forgetfulness of their salvation wherein they lived, called them, offered them his grace, and spared neither care nor labour for instructing them, for withdrawing them from their vices, and for heaping his favours upon them.

Having, therefore, left his most blessed mother, under whose obedience he had lived so meekly for several years, he went to Capharnaum. This was a city of Galilee, situated on the confines of the tribes of Zabulon and Nepthali, near Jordan, by the side of a salt lake, called the sea of Galilee. Those two tribes being fallen into a great disorder of manners, were ruined with the rest of the kingdom of Israel, composed of ten tribes, of which the city of Samaria was the capital: but it was so full of crimes, that it drew upon itself the wrath of God, and was entirely destroyed by pestilence and war.

II. It was then at Capharnaum that Christ began to preach his gospel, according to that prediction of Isaias-ix. 1, 2: At the first time the land of Zabulon, and the land of Nepthali was lightly touched; the people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; to them that dwelt in the region of the shadow of death, light is risen. There he spread his doctrine so abundantly: there he wrought so great a number of miracles; and there he was so often, that he commonly called it his own city. For, as it is not said, that the sun, in steering its course through the heavens, rises to enlighten them, but to enlighten the earth, subject to the obscurity of night, and to the change of seasons; so Christ, the sun of the heavenly city, which suffers neither shadow nor vicissitude, arose not upon it, but upon sinners, whose days are short, and nights gloomy; and who have such long nights, and such thick darkness, that the region they inhabit ought to appear uninhabitable to them.

He calls Capharnaum his own city, only because he there found whereon to exercise his zeal, and to work the wonders of his power; and this is a great subject of consolation for us, that our Saviour, who is the eternal light, vouchsafes to rise upon sinners, to visit those cold and obscure regions, to warm them by his heat, and to render them capable of producing the fruit he expects from

thence.

III. This divine sun having then appeared upon an earth covered with the darkness of sin, visited all the desolate cities of Israel, whose number, in Josue's vision, amounted to three hundred, without reckoning either those that were built since that time, or the castles, and other small places. The tribe of Judah alone had one hundred and fifteen cities. Christ entered into the synagogue, to declare to them the kingdom of God; he went into the gardens and upon the mountains, there to spend the night in prayer; into the houses to heal the sick, and to instruct every one therein. He wrought miracles in the public places; assembled the people in the fields and river-sides, to preach penance to them; fed them even sometimes miraculously; raised the dead; rejected no person; drew sinners to him, by the odour of his divine virtues; and filled them with admiration and joy, by the sublimity of his doctrine, and the sweetness of his grace.

He also visited every place both on this and on the other side of the sea, after having sent his disciples thither to declare his coming. And though the places were large enough for employing seventytwo disciples, to which he distributed them; he himself went over them all, one after another. He remained in each of them as long as was necessary; when he departed from thence, he left his holy spirit therein, which caused the divine seed to spring up which he had sown therein.

IV. Such were the continual cares, desires, labours, and journeys of Christ. He walked on foot into a very rough country, among stones and rocks, in valleys and on mountains; suffering cold and heat, wind and rain; and found himself often so fatigued, that he was forced to stop in the way, to take a little rest.

When he was arrived at his journey's end, he began to instruct the people, and to work the wonders of his power and goodness. Whilst his disciples were thinking on his corporeal necessities, he was employed about the salvation of souls. In some places they received him well, and in others ill: sometimes they even drove him away; and then he retired without complaint or murmuring; always as patient in injuries, as he was liberal in pouring his blessings on those whom he found disposed for receiving them.

His disciples being one day provoked, and desiring to bring down fire from heaven upon that ungrateful people, he said to them, with his ordinary tranquillity (Luke ix. 55), You know not of what spirit you are: showing thereby, that his spirit was the spirit of peace, meekness, patience and longanimity, which waits for the sinner, and offers him grace without doing him any violence. As they were dissuading him on another occasion from going into Judea, where he had been in danger of being stoned some time before, he answered them, Are there not twelve hours of the day? in order to teach them, that apostolical men employed eleven of them