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liation the first moment our opponent perceives his injustice, which must be an injustice existing not merely in our imagination, but in reality.

But does this suffice for the perfection of our resemblance with God? By no means. If God had waited till rebellious man had acknowledged his injustice, when would the reconciliation have been accomplished? Adam did not acknowledge his wickedness, nor did Eve; for both considered themselves guiltless, and thus, with Cain, would all their posterity have acted; and none would have returned to God, had He not, in His infinite love, looked upon them to knit once more the broken band. For scarcely was the first man sunk in the dark night of sin, when the Divine Word placed Himself in a new alliance with the human race, to reconcile it to His Father. This He accomplished, first, by His revelations in the conscience; afterwards, by His law and the voice of the prophets; and finally, in perfect mediatorship in His advent in the flesh.

If, then, we would observe the rule of resemblance with God, it will not be sufficient that we are ready for reconciliation so soon as the offender knocks at our door to seek it by petition, but we must, on our side, go out and meet him; we must knock at his door, and present him our peace, unconcerned whether we shall receive a new insult; imitating the God-man, who lovingly approached those who, in return, prepared for Him the wood of the cross.

Were we thus minded, what a noble resemblance would subsist between us and the Son of God! "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. Love your enemies, do good to them that

hate you, that you may be the sons of your Father who is in heaven." "To whom of the angels," asks St. Paul," did God ever say, Thou art My son?" 'What a virtue,' exclaims St. Chrysostom, is the love of our enemies, since it rewards us with so high a title.' When Jacob approached his hostile brother Esau, and when Esau, removing all bitterness from his soul, went forward in friendship to meet him, Jacob exclaimed, “I beheld thy countenance, as it were the countenance of God." Whence did this rude inhabitant of the deserts acquire such an appearance? The man,' replies St. Augustine, 'who forgives his enemies is like to God.'‹ To restrain anger,' says St. Chrysostom, 'assimilates man to his Creator.'

If this, then, be true, and be moreover confirmed by the doctrine of Christ, who will feel any further surprise at the power which the peaceful exercise upon earth? In the city of Assisium there raged an implacable enmity between the bishop and the nobles. The bishop excluded his enemies from all communion with the faithful, and forbad them entrance into the church; whilst they forbad the people to hold further intercourse with him. Hereupon the seraphic Francis sent some of his brethren, who remonstrated mildly with the infuriated nobles, and conducted them to the bishop. Then in alternate choir they sang before both parties a hymn taught them by St. Francis. • Be praised,' they sang, be praised and honoured by all who, through love for you, pardon injuries and endure impatience! Blessed are they who abide in peace; they shall receive from Thee a crown.' Scarcely had they entoned these words, when the bishop and the nobles

fell into each other's embraces, and promised mutual forgiveness and harmony.

Truly, a beauteous hymn, this hymn of the Saint of Assisium; for, as forgiveness is the act of God, the man who pardons his neighbour performs upon earth the Almighty's work; and thus the fifth petition rises from the depth of self-knowledge and repentance to the height of Divine glory, to the height of the first petition, "Hallowed be Thy name," by the resemblance with God, and especially with Christ, who offered His life for friends and for enemies.

Such was the thought which animated a youth of Lisbon. According to the account of his contemporary, Benedict Fernandez, he was wandering on the shore of the sea, when he perceived a man, who, helpless and alone, without rudder or anchor, lay upon a boat, cast to and fro by the roaring billows. He looked steadfastly, and recognised in the unfortunate man an old opponent, who had injured him most grievously, and against whom he had vowed destruction, but which he had not as yet been able to accomplish. He paused for a moment; one stone on the boat, and his enemy was destroyed: with sudden resolution he sprang into the sea, swam to him, and rescued him from certain death. All thoughts of revenge were now banished from his soul; he had offered his life for his enemy.

us?

Are the like heroism and magnanimity required of Are not such circumstances extremely rare? Let us hearken to the Abbot Piminius, and he will give us a fitting reply: When any one is addressed by his neighbour in injurious words and unseemly terms, and, although able to reply in like language, struggles in his

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heart, and restrains himself from answering in bitterness, lest he should afflict his aggressor, such a one has laid down his soul for his neighbour.' As this solution undoubtedly is true, it evidently shews what is the resemblance expressed in the fifth petition. We offer our souls for our neighbour when we grant him forgiveness, as Christ, to obtain for us reconciliation with His Father, sacrificed His life. Is this resemblance a proportion similar to what is announced when we say, one is to ten as one thousand to ten thousand? This we cannot pretend. For if, in the parable of the Gospel, the servant was obliged to remit ten pence to his fellowservant, since his master had freed him from a debt of ten thousand talents, yet is this similitude far beyond any arithmetical ratio. How, then, is any proportion possible between human and divine things, for God is unlimited, man finite?

A certain individual had written against the sainted Pius V. a pasquinade, breathing the most bitter invective. The Pope summoned the ruthless calumniator into his presence, not indeed to punish him, but to lead him to better sentiments. With as great condescension as goodness, he himself shewed him the way whereby to escape from the penalty of his grievous offence. 'I have cause to believe,' said the Saint, that you have written all this, not so much against the Pope, the representative of Christ, as against your brother Michael Ghislieri. (Such was Pius's name previous to his election.) Is it not so?' The culprit, who stood trembling before him, affirmed that it was; and Pius dismissed him with the fatherly advice, to renounce for ever an evil tongue and a malicious pen.

How, then, did he raise the offender from his difficulties, in order to grant him pardon? By distinguishing his person from his dignity, and viewing the insult as directed against himself as a mere man, and not as the representative of Christ; for as such he would have been compelled to punish. The injury which we suffer is in itself, and in relation to us, but finite, since we ourselves are nothing more. Its enormity and infinitude can proceed only from its being a violation and contempt of the Divine law, and consequently an offence of God. This last offence, and its necessary guilt, are infinite, since God is infinite; now, between what is finite and what is infinite there exists no comparison which may be reduced to an arithmetical proportion.

If, independent of the greatness of the guilt, we consider the manner in which it is forgiven, we shall find that God forgives with an infinite love: "I am He that blots out thy sins for My own sake” (Isaias xliii.); whereas the forgiveness which we grant to our neighbour is one of a limited love. God, moreover, pardons with an instantaneous willingness, consoling His enemy with the joy of the Holy Spirit; we do so only gradually and with delay, and not without repugnance and opposition. God, in fine, forgives so perfectly, that He wipes away not only the guilt, but even all the remembrance thereof: "He will," says the prophet, "bury all our sins in the depths of the sea" (Malach. vii.); but we forgive with such imperfection and so superficially, that the endured offence for ever floats in the stream of our thoughts, and is scarcely ever entirely forgotten; for who, in such things, has not an unfailing memory? When, therefore, we pray, 66 Forgive us our tres

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