Part 4
When past my little day of time and grace, Lone in another world I seek my place, And trembling fall before Thy unveiled Face, Dear Master, say it!
_Come!_--blest recall from exile’s weary years, Rest from the awful strife ’twixt hopes and fears, Sweet word of welcome after toil and tears, O Master, say it!
Though silent now, keep Thou that word in store, The word to make me Thine for evermore; By all Thy loving-kindness, I implore, Dear Master, say it!
XX.
A DIVINE PLAINT.
My people have done two evils. They have forsaken Me, the fountain of living water, and have digged to themselves cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water.--_Jer._ ii. 13.
What heart so hard but could find a motive for contrition in this tender reproach! No question here of the Divine majesty outraged, the Divine rights infringed. The harm _to ourselves_--this is the evil we have done by forsaking God. And He stands sadly by, watching our futile efforts to fill with earth’s sorry pleasures the hearts created for Himself.
The plaint is echoed by the Incarnate Son. “_You will not come to Me that you may have life._”[54] And echoed not once, nor from Jerusalem only, but through all time and from the countless tabernacles where the Eucharistic Life is being lived for us. How is it that that cry does not arrest us as we go heedlessly on our way? What a difference it would make to our round of daily toil and worries and anxieties if we carried away oftener from the altar the Life Who is waiting there to give Himself to us. He would not encroach upon our time. He is the most considerate of guests, and knows we are no more able to lay aside our domestic cares than was His own blessed Mother in her little cave-home at Nazareth. He would not interfere with our projects, our occupations, our amusements even. But He would act the part of a helpmate throughout, guiding our plans, sanctifying our work, ennobling our pleasures--above all, sharing and soothing our sorrows. Is an ally such as this so easily found that we can afford to turn a deaf ear to the invitation from the tabernacle: “Whom seekest thou--a friend? I am He.”
* * * * *
O Loving One, who are we that You should so earnestly entreat our friendship? Have You not thronging about You legions upon legions of angels? What need can You have of us? Yet You not only tolerate our society but beg for it. The little troublesome children whom strangers find a nuisance are a solace to the father, who feels something to be missing unless he has them pressing and chattering all about him. So is it with You. To satisfy Your Heart You must have us, needy and clamorous, all about You, besetting You on every side.
Lord, had we always treated You as You deserve, could You be more in love with our company? Surely Your eagerness should drive away fear that our uncouthness and coldness will disgust You. Love “is patient, is kind, ... beareth all things, ... hopeth all things, endureth all things.”[55] O Lord and Lover, we will not disappoint You. Since You are content to have us as we are, we will draw near to You without fear: “Behold we come to Thee; for Thou art the Lord our God”.[56]
[54] John v.
[55] 1 Cor. xiii.
[56] Jer. iii.
XXI.
THANKSGIVING.
And he fell on his face before His feet, giving thanks.--_Luke_ xvii. 16.
Just as I do to-day, dear Lord, in the fulness of my heart, in the first transport of joy and praise and gratitude that comes with the sense of answered prayer. My happiness is all from You. In all that has happened I trace the workings of Your hand, and see how it has moved all secondary causes, and ordered all things sweetly.
“Thou, O my God, hast made me joyful with great joy.”[57]
“Blessed be the Lord God this day.”[58]
“We bless Thee, O Lord God, because it hath not happened as we suspected. For Thou hast shewn Thy mercy to us, and Thou hast taken pity.”[59]
“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and let all that is within me bless His holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and never forget all He hath done for thee.... Who satisfieth thy desire with good things.... The Lord is compassionate and merciful.... He hath not dealt with us according to our sins.... The mercy of the Lord is from eternity and unto eternity upon them that fear Him.”[60]
“Give glory to the Lord, for He is good: for His mercy endureth for ever. Let them say so that have been redeemed by the Lord, whom He hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy.... They cried to the Lord in their tribulation, and He delivered them out of their distresses.... Let the mercies of the Lord give glory to Him and His wonderful works to the children of men. For He hath satisfied the empty soul, and hath filled the hungry soul with good things.”[61]
“Praise ye the Lord, for the Lord is good; sing ye to His name, for it is sweet.”[62]
“Who healeth the broken of heart, and bindeth up their bruises.”[63]
“The Lord hath granted me my petition which I asked of Him.”[64]
“Blessed be God, Who hath not turned away my prayer, nor His mercy from me.”[65]
“O Lord our God, all this store ... is from Thy hand.”[66]
“O Lord, there is none like Thee.”[67]
* * * * *
_He fell on his face before His feet giving thanks._ The right place, the right posture for thanksgiving. My whole self, body and soul, seeks to pour itself out in praise. And yet, my God, when do we feel ourselves more helpless, more bound in by our narrowness than when we come to thanksgiving! Our heart is freer on the path of sorrow than on that of joy. It knows its way better. It can go further. There are novenas of Ten Fridays, Masses and Communions, year after year of persistent prayer. But when the answer comes at last; when suddenly the burden is lifted; when the thrill of gladness and the stillness of peace succeed one another in sweet alternations within the soul--how poor, how soon ended is our _Te Deum_! A rush to Your feet--a few tears perhaps--a few broken words of gratitude, and--our heart fails us. In vain do we lift it up in David’s heart, that censor of glorious praise. There weighs upon it still the stifling sense of oppression. We can but sink back in our helplessness and long for the full freedom of all our powers that is to come.
Oh yes, the soul never feels so powerless, so imprisoned as when the call upon it is for thanksgiving. It is a caged bird always, but it never beats more hopelessly against the bars than when it would soar upward in the free flight of praise.
It is then we turn to our God with us on the altar, to the Victim of infinite worth placed at our disposal to be offered to God as a full, worthy, adequate return for all His goodness to us.
“What shall I render to the Lord for all He hath rendered unto me?”
I will come to the altar of God to unite my thanksgiving and my praise with the divine gratitude of the God-Man.
I will offer with Him His sacrifice and mine, a gift of infinite value from my grateful heart.
I will receive into my poor heart, whose powers, stretched to their utmost, fall infinitely short of what is due to Him, the Heart of the Man-God.
* * * * *
My God, I rejoice beyond measure that in Mass and Holy Communion I can offer You a thanksgiving that is adequate because infinite, a thanksgiving worthy of Your acceptance. Look not on the poverty of my praise, but “look upon the Face of Thy Christ”.[68] _Per Ipsum, et cum Ipso, et in Ipso ... omnis honor et gloria. Amen._
[57] _Cf._ 2 Esdras xii.
[58] 1 Kings v.
[59] Tobias viii.
[60] Psa. cii.
[61] _Ibid._ cvi.
[62] Psa. cxxxiv.
[63] _Ibid._ cxlvi.
[64] 1 Kings i.
[65] Psa. lxv.
[66] 1 Par. xxix.
[67] _Ibid._ xvii.
[68] Psa. lxxxiii.
XXII.
DARKNESS.
My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?--_Matt._ xxvii. 46.
_My God!_ as if You belonged to no one else in the wide world. As if You and I were alone in creation. As if neither in heaven above nor in the earth beneath, nor in the waters under the earth, You had a single other creature!
_My God!_ as if for me alone you had done all in the orders of nature, grace, and glory; working for me from the beginning, through all causes, by all creatures, in all events. As if for me alone were the earth and the sea and all within them. For me all the ordering of Your Providence in the affairs of time. For me the heaven of heavens and all the concourse there. For me the Saints and Mary; the Incarnation, the Life, and death, and teaching of Christ; the Church and Sacraments; the Eucharist, and Mass, and Communion. For me life everlasting and the Blessed Vision of Yourself.
_My God!_ for Whom I am made. Without Whom happiness for me were the wildest of impossibilities. The Supreme Good able to satisfy to the full every want of my complex nature. Infinite Goodness providing for all and for each with an exquisite discrimination of my need.
_My God!_ in a sense known to myself and You alone--father, mother, sister, brother, lover, friend--all in all to me.
_My God!_ as if You belonged to me rather than to Yourself; belonged to me rather than I to You. As if You were for my sake rather than I for Yours. Or at least as if we so belonged to one another as of necessity to imply and supplement each other--as hill and valley, light and shade, the ocean and the void it fills.
* * * * *
_My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?_ Why this darkness in which I grope for You in vain, in which I seek in vain to find Your Face? Why these nameless fears, this dread of You, this shrinking from You?
Or, harder still to bear, this heaviness of soul, this hardness of heart, this weariness of You, my God, this restlessness in Your presence, this impatience of Your ways--why all this inconsistency and perversity?
Why, O Supreme Good, do You show Yourself to me as infinitely desirable, only to elude my grasp when I stretch out my hands to feel for You and draw You to myself? Why do You brush past me in the darkness to leave me all the more desolate and disconsolate because You were so near? Why are You deaf when I cry? Why, here in this tabernacle, are You so near and yet so far away? Why do You make it more and more impossible for me to find rest out of You, and then deny Yourself to my soul? Why have You sought for me so persistently when I fled from You, to hide from me now that I seek You? _My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?_
Is Your answer to me this--that I have forsaken You first? Is the hiding of Your Face the just punishment of wilful deafness to Your voice and resistance to Your leading? Are You waiting for some act of mine as the price of Your turning to me? Is it pride or any other passion that interposes as a cloud between us? What is it, my God? Take it away at any cost. I am sorry for my insincerity; for all meanness in my dealings with You; for all wilful blindness and deafness; for the cowardice that fears to see what will call for effort and for sacrifice.
If conscience does not reproach me, I am not hereby justified, because Your all-seeing eye may note, does note what escapes mine. I own to whatever You see that is amiss. I am perfectly conscious that there is more--oh, a thousand times more than enough to make You turn away Your Face and forsake me utterly. Show me what You will have me see, that I may amend it, and bear with what You dare not show me, lest I should be utterly cast down and despair.
_My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me!_ You have taught me by Your own meek complaint that I too may complain lovingly. I look up through the darkness of Calvary. I hear above me that cry from Your own lips, and I am instructed and comforted. If the well-beloved Son for bearing the appearance of sin was thus shut out from the Father’s Face, how shall a sinner complain? If this was done in the green wood, what shall be done in the dry?
And if all through the blackness of that desolation He remained still the well-beloved Son, so may the weakest of His brethren, so may I remain--dear to the Father’s Heart through all the discipline of chastisement, through all the needful purification of my imperfect love.
In the very midnight of His dereliction He called on the Father, clung to the Father, threw Himself on the Father with absolute trust. So may I, so _must_ I, in the darkness that is but the faintest shadow of His.
_Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit_--for this trial, for every trial, for the last trial, when the shadow of death will close round me, and it will be hard to find Your Face. Into the hands that created me, that redeemed me, into which I shall pass at the moment of death, Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.
“My God, My God!”--into the night went forth That lonely cry, Piteous as never plaint from burdened breast Its misery.
Went forth _for me_ into the night, that wail Of woe divine; His bitter dereliction bared, to draw The sting from mine.
And yet another cry ere shades of death Around Him stole, Revealed the sanctuary dark and lone Of Jesu’s soul:
“Father, into Thy hands”--a Son’s bequest, That we might know The filial, all unshaken trust, beneath That depth of woe.
“Father, into Thy hands”--that we might learn Since Jesus died Theirs first the right to claim the Father’s love, His crucified.
XXIII.
“WHAT IS TRUTH?”
--_John_ xviii. 38.
“Pilate saith to Him: What is truth? And when he said this he went out.”
Too often, O Lord, in my dealings with You I am like Pilate. Moved by Your grace to desire the things that are for my peace, I come to You to know my way: “_What shall I do to possess everlasting life?_”[69] “_Make the way known to me, wherein I should walk._”[70] “_Teach me to do Thy will, for Thou art my God._”[71] And when I have said this I go out. I do not wait to hear an answer which may exact more of me than I am prepared to give. I am afraid to remain in Your Presence, lest You should beckon whither I am not willing to follow. And so I ask lightly: “What is truth?” without waiting to hear what the Lord my God will speak in me.[72]
How much more readily I pray for light than for strength. “_Lord, that I may see!_” And when the scales begin to fall from my eyes, I turn away lest I should find what I am seeking.
It is not Your way, O Lord, to constrain our free will. You meet us half-way, more than half-way by a great deal. But You have decreed that further and more abundant grace, the grace that is efficacious, shall be the reward of correspondence. If we withhold this, we enter upon a terrible contest between Your invitation on the one hand and the shrinking of nature on the other.
“Pilate saith to Him: What is truth? And when he had said this he went out again to the Jews and said to them: I find no cause in Him.... Then Pilate took Jesus and scourged Him.... And went forth again and saith to the Jews: Behold I bring Him forth unto you that you may know that I find no cause in Him.... Take Him you and crucify Him for I find no cause in Him.... The Jews answered: He ought to die because He made Himself the Son of God. When Pilate therefore had heard this saying he feared the more. And he entered into the hall again and said to Jesus: Whence art Thou? But Jesus gave him no answer. From thenceforth Pilate sought to release Him.... And he saith to the Jews: Behold your King.... Then he delivered Him to them to be crucified.”
* * * * *
Oh, the agony of mind, the risk, the misery we bring upon ourselves by our vacillations and trifling with grace! Surely the remedy is to gain by prayer strength proportioned to the light God gives. It is as easy for Him to give the one as the other, for “there is none strong like our God”.[73] But I must ask, for “strength cometh from Heaven”.[74] “Ask and it shall be given to you.” “God is my strong One, in Him will I trust ... my rock, and my strength, and my Saviour.”[75] He will not leave me in my weakness. If He shows me His ways, He will give me strength to walk in them. “My God is made my strength.”[76]
[69] Luke xviii.
[70] Psa. cxlii.
[71] _Ibid._
[72] Psa. lxxxiv.
[73] 1 Kings ii.
[74] 1 Mach. iii.
[75] 2 Kings xxii.
[76] Isa. xlix.
XXIV.
HIS SECOND COMING.
They shall see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven ... and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn.--_Matt._ xxiv. 30.
Dearest Lord, is there a sadder word than this in the whole of the written Word? Did a sadder ever fall from Your sacred lips? That when You come again to finish the work of redemption by the destruction of the last enemy, death; to gather to Yourself those for whose salvation You came down from heaven, and were incarnate, and suffered, and died, and founded Your Church, and gave Your sacraments; those whom You bade to watch and wait for You and lift up their heads at Your coming; that when at last You come, this shall be Your reception--“_then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn_”!
What an awful testimony to the decay of truth among the children of men, to the unchristianising of the world! “_All the tribes of the earth_,” as if the elect would be but as the ears of corn left on the field after the harvesting. O Messiah, so long promised, so earnestly expected--is this the return of those to whom You were sent, among whom You have lived as one of themselves, for whom You have sacrificed everything You took from our nature?
“They shall see the Son of Man coming”--not now in the midnight silence as once to Mary, not hidden under lowly accidents as through long centuries upon the altar, but “in great power and majesty,” “the King in His beauty,” revealed to every eye. “_And then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn._”
* * * * *
The awfulness of these words must have struck the Twelve as they sat about Your feet that day on Olivet looking down upon Josaphat, for John re-echoed them from Patmos half a century later: “Behold, He cometh with the clouds, and every eye shall see Him.... And all the tribes of the earth shall bewail themselves because of Him.”[77]
How our hearts would sink within us were it not for those other words equally with these the words of truth: “He shall send His angels to gather together His elect from the four winds, from the uttermost part of the earth, to the uttermost part of heaven.”[78] From every corner of the earth will those blessed ones come trooping in--“a great multitude, which no man can number, of all nations, and tribes, and peoples, and tongues”.[79]
Lord Jesus! Who would not desire with desire to be one of that great multitude, were it only to console Your Heart for the losses of that day! Let this happiness be mine, and that of as many as can be reached by the utmost stretching of Your mercy, the fullest and farthest flowing of Your precious Blood!
Quaerens me sedisti lassus, Redemisti crucem passus: Tantus labor non sit cassus.
Have mercy, O Lord, on all the tribes of earth, that they may not perish, nor bewail themselves because of You when You come to judgment. Have mercy, that when the day of the Lord, that dreadful day shall come, the number of the elect may be multiplied, and the thirst of Your Heart appeased.
[77] Apoc. i.
[78] Mark xiii.
[79] Apoc. vii.
XXV.
OUR EARTH.
_Coeli enarrant gloriam Dei._--_Psa._ xviii. 1.
_The heavens declare the glory of God._ There are hours when the grandeur of the midnight skies draws from our hearts: “Coeli enarrant,” and conversely: “Quam sordet tellus!” “How vile earth appears when I look up to heaven!”[80] When we would wish to be so far away from earth, so near to God, that we could cover it with our two hands and shut it out with all its sinfulness from His sight.
And there are hours when we re-echo David’s other cry: “_The earth is the Lord’s._”[81] Studded with millions of stars--its sanctuary lamps--here in grand constellations, there in solitary beauty amid the darkness, it lies outstretched before its Creator, a very heaven. Yes, speck as it is in creation, our world has a beauty all its own in the eyes of Him Who made it. “There is not found the like to it in glory.” Marred and sin-stained, it is still the dear world of the Incarnation, the world God so loved as to give to it His Son. Its highways, its fields, its waters have felt the tread of His feet; to the end of time He has made it His home. “I have chosen and have sanctified this place, and My eyes and My heart shall be there always.”[82] Always. His interest in it is as keen, as human, as when, a wayfarer here, He shared its joys and sorrows. Its every man, woman, and child to-day has a distinct place in His heart.
His sacramental Presence sanctifies it from pole to pole. On each of its altars a divine sacrifice is offered day by day. In each of its tabernacles is gathered up the worship of all creation. From each an unceasing praise goes up to the Throne of God, infinitely transcending the paltry outrages of man. From each radiates a divine life, communicating itself to all the members of the Body of Christ. From each as from a well-spring go forth all graces of light and strength; all holy impulses and high resolves; all courage, steadfastness, perseverance in well-doing; all works of love to the members, born of love to the Head. All spiritual energy, from the robust virtue of the saint to the weakest supernatural act of the repentant sinner, is flowing this hour from earth’s countless tabernacles, giving to God a glory before which the material glory of the starry heavens pales into insignificance.
O hidden God, I adore You as the source of all this glorious life. Who would not love the world, which You have so loved as to make it Your home all days even to the end of time? Who would not strive with You and for Your sake to light up its dark places, to cleanse its foul places, to spread far and near the saving knowledge of its Redeemer, that so the love poured out upon it, the Blood shed for it, may not have been in vain?
What can I do, O Lord, within my narrow sphere to help on the coming of Your Kingdom in the world? What have You given me to give away again in Your service? As to what do You say to me: “Freely have you received, freely give”?[83] Is it health, wealth, talent, influence, leisure for good works in any of the various fields calling for my aid and open to me? Is it devotedness and self-sacrifice in the apostolate of home life? Or is it the noblest and most far-reaching of works for God, the training of young souls in His love and service? Am I doing good work for You in my allotted sphere? What account am I preparing to give You of the talents entrusted to me? How could I bear it, O my Lord, should You ever have to reproach me, as “an evil and slothful servant,” with hiding the talent given me for Your service? What am I doing with my life, with its energies, its opportunities, its responsibilities, its graces? Where are the souls I am helping to save? Where is the lot I am brightening, the cross I am lightening for Your dear sake? In what direction am I furthering Your interests and sacrificing self to Your glory? Unless I can lay my hands in Yours, and look up trustfully into Your Face with “Lord, Thou knowest” my daily prayer, “Thy Kingdom come” is a mockery, a self-delusion, a sham.
[80] St. Ignatius.
[81] Psa. xxiv.
[82] 2 Par. vii.
[83] Matt. x.
XXVI.
CHRIST OUR STUDY.
You have not so learned Christ.--_Ephes._ iv. 20.