PART II.

THE KING’S HOUSE.

“Thou art Peter.” (_Homilies on St. Matthew_, liv., vol. ii., p. 108.)

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... _Thou art Simon the son of Jona: thou shalt be called Cephas._ Since thou hast proclaimed _My_ Father, He says, so will I name _thy_ father to thee: which was almost saying, ‘As thou art the son of Jona, so am I the Son of My Father’. For it was superfluous to say, ‘Thou art the son of Jona’; but as He had spoken of the Son of God, in order to show that as Peter is the son of Jona so He is the Son of God, of the same substance as the Begetter, He added further: _And I say to thee thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build My Church_—that is, on the faith of this confession. Then He shows him many men who are ready to believe, and He strengthens Peter’s will and makes him pastor. _And the gates of hell shall not prevail against it._ ‘If they shall not prevail against _it_, how much less against Me. So be not troubled, for thou art soon to hear that I am to be betrayed and crucified.’ He goes on to speak of another honour: _And I will give thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven_. What does _And I will give thee_ signify? As the Father gave thee to know Me, so do _I_ also give it to thee. He did not say: ‘I will invoke the Father,’ although the power shown forth was so great and the gift was so unutterably magnificent, but _I will give thee_. Tell me what hast Thou given? The keys of the kingdom of heaven, that whatsoever thou dost bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever thou dost loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. How, then, was it not His to give to sit on His right and on His left Who said, _I will give_? Do you see how He leads Peter up to the most ineffable knowledge, how He reveals Himself, and shows Himself to be the Son of God, through that double promise? For that which belongs only to God, namely, the remission of sins, the setting up of an immutable Church in the midst of waves, and making a fisherman more enduring than the hardest rock, with the whole world against him, these are the things which He promises to give, as the Father said to Jeremias: _I have made thee a pillar of iron and a wall of brass_; but Jeremias was commissioned for one people, whilst Peter is charged with the whole universe. I would ask those who wish to depreciate the dignity of the Son, which were the greater gifts to Peter, those of the Father or those of the Son? The Father vouchsafed to Peter the manifestation of the Son, but the Son’s gift it was to make known that manifestation of the Father and of Himself throughout all the world, and He entrusted to a mortal man authority over the whole kingdom of heaven, giving those keys to him who propagated the Church in all parts of the earth and showed it forth more powerful than heaven. _For heaven and earth shall pass away, but My words shall not pass away._ How, then, was the Giver of such gifts, the Worker of such triumphs, in any way less than the Father? I speak of them, not separating the works of the Father from the Son, _for all things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made_, but in order to silence the shameless tongue of those who would so venture. Consider the authority which He manifests here throughout all He says. _I say to thee, thou art Peter: I will build My Church: I will give thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven._ And at the time when He said these things, He charged them to tell no man that He was the Christ. Why did He thus charge them? That when those who took scandal were removed, the work of the Cross over, and all His other sufferings completed, when there was no man left to disturb or trouble the faith of the multitude in Him, His worship, undefiled and immutable, might be grafted on the minds of those who listened. For it was clear that His power had not yet shone forth. On this account He willed to be preached by them at a time when the unerring truth of deeds and the strength of things accomplished should support the testimony of the Apostles. For there was a difference between seeing Him, now working wonders in Palestine, now despised, now driven about (more especially at the time when the Cross was about to follow the wonders accomplished), and seeing Him adored and trusted by the whole world, His former suffering no more. This is why He enjoined them to tell no man. For that which has once been rooted and is then torn up, would with difficulty, if planted again, be received by the many, but that which has once been secured, and which remains immutable, and is not threatened from any quarter, is in easy progress and gives good promise of growth. If, indeed, those who enjoyed many signs, and who took part in these ineffable mysteries, were scandalised by merely being told of the Cross, and not those only, but Peter too, the head of all,[14] consider what the multitude were likely to suffer when they learnt that He was the Son of God, and saw Him spit upon and crucified, and yet did not know the sacred nature of these high mysteries, and had not received the Holy Ghost. If He said even to the disciples, _I have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now_, how much more would the rest of the people have fallen if He had revealed to them the secret of these hidden things before the due time. On this account, then, He orders them to be silent. And that you may see how much there was to be learnt after these things to complete the teaching, when those who offered scandal were removed, consider the behaviour of Peter, the chief of all. For this very Peter, after wonders so great, showed himself weak enough to deny Our Lord and to fear a poor maid-servant. Then, when the crucifixion was accomplished, and he had received clear proof of the resurrection, and there remained nothing to scandalise or terrify him, he embraced the unspeakable teaching of the Spirit in order to leap with greater eagerness than a lion upon the Jewish people, although he was threatened by a thousand dangers and deaths. It was reasonable, therefore, that He bade them not to tell the multitude before the Cross, since He did not venture to impart everything before the Cross even to those who were to teach. _I have many things to say, but you cannot bear them now._ And they were ignorant concerning many things spoken by Him which He did not clearly explain before the Cross. But when He rose from the dead, then they came to a knowledge of some of the things which He had said.

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“Peter Rose Up.” (_Homilies on Acts of Apostles_, _Benedictine Edition_, iii., tom. ix., p. 23.)

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_And in those days Peter rose up in the midst of the disciples and said._ As one eager and as entrusted by Christ with the flock, and as the first of the choir, he ever first begins to speak. _And the number of names together was_, he says, _about a hundred and twenty_. _Men and brethren, this Scripture must needs have been fulfilled, which the Holy Ghost spake before._ Why then did he not singly ask of Christ to give him some one in the place of Judas? And why do they not make the election of themselves? Peter had now become better than his old self. This is what we may say on the subject. We will give two reasons why their asking for one to fill up their band was no chance but a matter of revelation: the first, that they were engaged about other things; the second, that this was the greatest proof of Christ’s presence with them. For being absent He made the election as He would have done if present. And this was no small matter of consolation. But observe Peter doing this with common consent; nothing authoritatively, nothing arbitrarily. And he did not say simply thus: ‘Instead of Judas we elect this man,’ but consoling them about what had passed, see how he manages his discourse. For what had happened had caused no small distress. And do not wonder at this. For if many at present twist about this fact, what may we expect that they said? _Men and brethren_, he says: if the Lord called them brethren, how much more he?... This is why he began by saying, _Men and brethren, we must choose one of us_. He commits the judgment to the multitude, both to invest with respect those who were chosen, and to escape himself odium from the rest.... What, then, might not Peter himself have elected? Certainly. But he does not do so, that he might not seem partial. Moreover, he had not as yet received the Spirit. _And they appointed two, Joseph that is called Barsabas and Matthias._ He did not appoint them, but all. He introduced the matter, showing that it was not even his own, but from above, according to prophecy. So that he was an interpreter, not a master.

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Built upon the Rock. (_Homily before he went into exile_,[15] tom. iii., p. 415.)

Numerous are the waves, and great the tossing of the sea, but we have no fear of going down, for we stand upon the rock. Let the ocean rage as it will, it is powerless to break the rock. Let the waves roll, they cannot sink the bark of Jesus. Tell me, what should we fear? Death? _To me to live is Christ and to die gain._ Is it exile perchance? _The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness of it._ Is it confiscation of property? We brought nothing with us into the world, and it is clear that we can take nothing away with us. I despise what the world fears, and hold its good things in derision. I do not fear poverty, nor do I desire riches. I am not afraid of death; I do not pray to live, if it be not for your good. This is why I speak of what is now taking place, and exhort your charity to be of good cheer. For no man shall be able to separate us. No man can part that which God has joined together. If, speaking of man and wife, He says: _On this account a man shall leave his father and his mother and shall cleave to his wife, and the two shall be one flesh; for that which God has joined together man shall not separate_; if you cannot dissolve marriage, how much less shall you be able to break up the Church of God. You may fight her, you will not be able to harm the object of your attack. ‘But whilst you make me more illustrious, you are undermining your own strength by fighting against me.’ It is hard for you to kick against a sharp goad. You do not take the edge off it, but you make your own feet bloody; and the waves do not break through the rock, but are dissolved in foam. There is nothing more powerful than the Church, O man; give up fighting her, lest she overpower your strength. Wage not war against heaven. If you fight a man, you conquer or are conquered. But if you fight the Church, you cannot conquer. For God is stronger than all. _Do we provoke the Lord to jealousy?_ Are we stronger than He? Who will venture to subvert the order which God has established? You know not His power. He looks down upon the earth and causes it to tremble. He commands, and that which was shaken becomes firm. If He can establish in peace a city torn by factions, how much more is He able to establish the Church! The Church is stronger than heaven. _Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My words shall not pass away._ What words? _Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build My Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it._

If you distrust words, believe in facts. How many tyrants have wished to get the better of the Church! How many frying-pans, and furnaces, and fangs of wild animals, and sharp swords have there not been! Yet they have not succeeded. Where are the oppressors? Silence and oblivion have passed over them. But where is the Church? It is more dazzling than the sun. _Their_ deeds are no more, hers are immortal. Now, if being few they were not conquered, how will you get the better of them, now that the world is filled with the service of God? _Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My word shall not pass_; and with good reason. The Church is more pleasing to God than heaven; He did not take a body from heaven, but He _did_ take flesh of the Church.[16] Heaven is made for the Church, not the Church for heaven. Be not disturbed by anything which has taken place. Gain me the grace of an immutable faith. See you not Peter walking upon the waters, beginning to doubt and being on the point of drowning, not through the surging waves, but through the weakness of his faith? Did we come here by vote of man? Did a man bring us in, that a man might displace us? I say this, not out of pride, nor to boast—God forbid!—but wishing to give courage to what is faint in you. Since the city has become quiet, the devil aimed at disturbing the Church. Wretched and most wicked demon, you could not master walls, and do you think to shake the Church? Is the Church made up of walls? The Church is in the multitude of the faithful. What an array of immutable pillars, not clasped by iron, but bound by faith! I say not that so vast a multitude is more ardent than fire, but if it consisted of one, you would not overcome that one. You know what wounds the martyrs inflicted on you. Many a time a tender maiden has been brought into court; she was softer than wax, and she became harder than a rock. You tore her sides, yet you took not her faith. The flesh languished whilst the strength of faith was not weakened: the body was being spent, the spirit was renewed: the physical frame was perishing, yet piety endured. You have not conquered a single woman, and do you hope to conquer so numerous a people? _Do you not hear the Lord saying, Wherever two or three are gathered together in My name, there I am in the midst of them_. Where is _not_ this people whom charity binds? I have a proof of it. Am I in good heart by my own strength? I hold His written word. This is my staff, this is my courage, this is to me a calm harbour. Even if the world be troubled, I hold that written word; I look up to those words, they are a wall of strength to me. What are they? _I am with you always until the consummation of the world._ Christ is with me, what shall I fear? If waves are raging against me, and the fountains of the deep and the passions of princes, all these things are more insignificant than a cobweb. And if it were not for your charity, I would not refuse to depart to-morrow, for I always say, ‘Lord, may Thy will be done’; not what this man or that man wishes, but as Thou wilt. This is my tower of defence, this is my immutable rock, this is my sure staff. If this be God’s will, so be it. If He wish me to remain here, I am grateful to Him. Wherever it may be, I give Him thanks.

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The Priest a Man, not an Angel. (_Homily on Peter and Elias_, _Benedictine Edition_, tom. ii., p. 730.)

Why is it that so few are here to day? We commemorate the martyrs, and no one comes; the distance has made man soft, or rather not the distance, but their softness has been the impediment. Just as nothing can hinder readiness and alertness of will, so everything serves as a hindrance to an irresolute and desponding man. The martyrs shed their blood for the truth: can _you_ not make light even of a long way? They laid down their head for Christ: will _you_ not even come out of the city for your Lord? He died for you, and are you lukewarm in His service? You are commemorating the martyrs, and are you discouraged and remiss? You should come and see the devil humbled, and the martyr triumphing, God glorified, and the Church crowned. What is your excuse? ‘I am a sinner and I cannot come.’ That is the very reason why you should come so that you may not be quite lost. Tell me what man is without sin? This is why there is a sacrifice, and a Church, and prayer, and fasting. Because the soul has many wounds, therefore remedies have been devised for them, and for every single wound of the soul a corresponding medicine has been prepared. You have the Church offering sacrifices, the prayers of the fathers, the administration of the Holy Spirit, the memory of the martyrs, the assembly of the faithful, and many things of the kind which have power to recall you from iniquity unto justice. If you do not come to invoke the martyrs, what excuse have you got?... You say, ‘I am a sinner and cannot come’. _Because_ you are a sinner, come. Or do you not know that those very men who stand before the altar have contracted sins? They are clothed in flesh and blood, yet we do not refuse to teach when we cast our eyes on the ocean of God’s goodness. If you enter in, you have not this against you, for you are subject to teaching. As for us, the higher our dignity, the greater is our guilt. It is one thing for the man, who is subject to teaching, to sin, and another for the teacher. Nevertheless, we do not refuse to impart discipline, or fall into negligence under pretext of humility. It was a divine ordering that priests themselves should fall into sin. Now listen to what I mean. If the teachers themselves, if priests had not sinned and been subjected to the ordinary passions of life, they would have become inhuman and relentless towards others. Therefore, He designed that priests, too, and rulers should be under the dominion of their feelings, so that from what they themselves experience they should extend pardon to others. God has always pursued this course, not only now but of old: He allowed those to whom He was going to entrust His Church and His people to fall into sin, so that on account of their own shortcomings they might become merciful to others. If they had _not_ sinned, they would not have made a single excuse for sinners, but, wholly merciless, would have excluded all from the Church. Let me show you by an example that it _is_ so, and that I do not speak from conjecture. Peter was to be entrusted with the keys of heaven and with the multitude of the people. For what were the Lord’s words to him? _Whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall_ _be bound in heaven, and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven._ For Peter was somewhat severe, and if he had been faultless how would he have excused his disciples? This was why the Divine Goodness brought about a certain fall on his part, that from what he himself experienced, he might become kind to others. And consider the man who is allowed to fall into sin,—Peter, the chief of the Apostles, the irremovable foundation, the immutable rock, the leader of the Church, the sure harbour, the invincible pillar. Peter it was who had said to Christ, _Even if I should die with Thee I will not desert Thee_; Peter who had confessed the truth by divine revelation: _Thou art Christ the Son of the living God_: this Peter going in on the night of Christ’s betrayal and standing by the fire to warm himself, a certain maid-servant went up to him and said, _Yesterday thou wert with this man_, and Peter answered, _I know not the man_. Just before he had said, _Even if I should die with Thee_; now he denies Him and says, _I know not the man_. O Peter! is this thy promise? Thou hast not endured torments nor stripes, but at a single word from a maid-servant—thou hast denied. Wilt thou deny, Peter? As yet there are neither torments, nor stripes, nor blows, nor angry passions, nor princes, nor outstretched swords, neither edicts, nor threatening emperors, nor sentence to death, neither prisons, nor precipices, nor seas. There are none of these things, yet thou hast already denied Him: _I know not the man_. Again the maid said to him, _Yesterday thou wert with this man._ And he answered her: _I know not the man_. Who is making thee deny? No one in authority, but a woman, and she a poor doorkeeper, a captive unworthy of an answer: at _her_ word thou deniest! This is wonderful indeed! A maid-servant, a harlot going up to Peter disturbed his faith. Peter, the pillar, suffered no temptation: she only opened her mouth and that pillar was shaken, that bulwark was moved. What seest thou before thee, Peter, whilst thou deniest? A miserable maid-servant, a wretched doorkeeper. This is what thou seest, and dost thou deny? Now for the third time she says: _Yesterday thou too wert with this man_, and he denied for the third time. And Jesus looking at him, recalled his own words to his mind, and he began to weep tears of contrition for his sin. Still Jesus pardoned him, knowing that as a man he had had a human weakness. But as I have said, on this account He was about to entrust him with a whole people, so that, not being hard or without sin, he might not be without mercy for his own brethren. He fell into sin, that, considering his own fault and his Lord’s pardon, he also might extend a merciful forgiveness to others, which, according to divine dispensation should reconcile them to God. He who was to be entrusted with the Church was allowed to sin; the pillar of the churches, the harbour of faith, Peter the teacher of the world, was allowed to sin in order that his forgiveness might become the basis of mercy for others. Why do I say these things? Because we priests who sit upon a throne and teach are fettered by sins. This is why neither angel nor archangel has been entrusted with the priesthood, for _they_ are without sin, in order that they should not through severity at once strike down sinners amongst the people. A man born of man was entrusted with this throne, a man held subject himself to pleasure and to sin, so that in receiving a sinner, mindful of his own failings, he might be gentler to that sinner. For if the priest were an angel and were to receive a dissolute man, he would kill him on the spot, not being acquainted with this passion. On this account if an angel had the sacerdotal authority, he would not teach, but he would kill the man in anger through his not being an angel: for this reason it was a man with the knowledge and experience of his own faults, that he might pardon sinners, and not be moved by anger, that the Church might not be vacant through the Synagogue.

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The Authority of the Priest. (_On the Priesthood_,[17] b. iii., c. iv., p. 24.)

The priesthood performs its functions on earth but ranks with heavenly things. And indeed most rightly, for neither man, nor angel, nor archangel, nor any other created power has ordained this series of actions, but the Paraclete Himself, and He it is Who has inspired those still in the flesh to represent visibly the ministry of angels. Therefore, since the priest stands in the very heavens in the midst of those powers, he should be as pure as they. The ordinances before the law of grace, such as bells and fringes, and precious stones on the breast, those on the shoulders, the mitre, the girdle, the long garment, the gold plate, the holy of holies, the intense quiet of the holy place, were awful and sacred, but if anyone would examine those of the law of grace, he would find the former terrible ordinances were as nothing, and that what was then said concerning the law was in this also true, that _even that which was glorious in this part was not glorified by reason of the glory that excelleth_. For when you see the Lord sacrificed and lying before you, and the priest standing over the sacrifice making supplication, and all present dyed in the precious Blood, do you feel as if you were still amongst men and on earth, and not rather transported straight into heaven? Casting aside from your mind every carnal thought, do you not consider the things of heaven with a naked soul and a pure heart? Oh, what a wonder this is! What man-loving kindness of God! He Who is sitting with the Father above is received in that hour into the hands of all men. And He gives Himself to those who wish to hold Him to their hearts in close embrace, and all do this through their eyes. Now would these things appear to you worthy of contempt, as if a man could possibly feel anger against them? Would you like to realise the surpassing sacredness of this holy place through another wonder? Picture Elias to yourselves, an immense crowd surrounding him, the sacrifice lying upon stones, all men holding their breath, and the prophet alone in prayer, then fire coming swiftly from heaven upon the offering. This is a marvel which is most awe-inspiring. Pass on from this to the rites which are now being carried out, and you will see not marvels alone but things beyond awe itself. For the priest is standing there, not bringing down fire but the Holy Spirit: and he makes a long prayer of supplication, not that fire from above may consume the offering, but in order that grace, coming down upon the sacrifice, may through it enkindle all souls, and make them purer than silver purified in the fire. Now, such being this most tremendous rite, who that is not utterly mad and out of his mind will be able to show contempt for it? Do you not know that never could soul of man have borne that fire of the sacrifice, but all would have been consumed if it had not been for an abundant assistance of God’s grace? If, indeed, anyone would consider what a great thing it is for a man still clothed in flesh and blood to be able to approach nearer to that high and perfect nature, he would then clearly see what honour the grace of the Spirit has vouchsafed to confer upon the priest. For through his ministry both these things are accomplished and other things which, in regard to our dignity and salvation, are in no way inferior. Dwellers on the earth, sojourners here, are entrusted with the things of heaven, and have received an authority which God has given neither to angels nor to archangels. Not to them are those words said: _Whatsoever you shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever you shall loose shall be loosed_. It is true that those in power on earth have authority to bind, but in the case of bodies only: now _that_ chain affects the soul, and penetrates into heaven, so that whatsoever the priest does here below, God ratifies it above; the Lord of all sanctions the action of His servants. What indeed did He give to them if not all authority in heaven? _Whose sins_, He says, _you shall forgive they are forgiven, and whose sins you shall retain they are retained_. What could be greater than this authority? The Father has given all judgment to the Son: now I see them set over all judgment by the Son as if they were already in heaven, and had passed beyond nature, and had thrown off our passions also, to so great an authority have they been raised. Thus, if a king entrusts to one of his subjects power to throw into prison those whom he chooses, and to release them, that man will be an object of singular distinction to all. He who receives from God an authority greater in proportion as heaven surpasses earth and souls bodies, has seemed to some to be favoured with an honour so small as to make it credible that some one might look down upon the gift of men so trusted. God forbid such unreason, for it _is_ a consummate unreason to despise so exalted an authority, without which we can arrive neither at salvation nor at the promised goods. If a man cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven unless he be born again of water and the Spirit, and if he who does not eat the Flesh of Christ and does not drink His Blood shall have no part in eternal life, and all these things are brought about by no one else, but only by those sacred hands, those of the priest, I mean, how without them will it be possible for a man either to escape hell-fire or to reach the crowns which are laid up for us? For priests are those who have been trusted with throes of the Spirit, and they generate through baptism: through them we put on Christ and unite ourselves to the Son of God, and become members of that august Head. Hence they might justly be held by us in greater veneration than not rulers and kings only, but than our own fathers. These have generated us by ties of the flesh and of inclination: priests are the authors of our birth from God, of that blessed regeneration of our true liberty, and of our adoption according to grace. Priests amongst the Jews had power to cleanse the leprosy of the body, or rather not at all to cleanse it, but only to proclaim who _were_ cleansed, and you know how sought after the priestly office then was. Now these have received power with regard to, not the leprosy of the body, but impurity of the soul, not to examine it when cleansed but to entirely effect the cleansing. Hence, those who hold them in contempt would be under a worse curse and would deserve a greater chastisement than Dathan and his companions. The latter, indeed, even if they claimed an authority which did not belong to them, were still impressed with its being something extraordinary, and showed this by desiring it with great warmth; but the former, since a better order has been brought about and divine worship has received so wonderful an increase, have ventured on a deed the opposite to that of the others, of much greater audacity. To desire undue honour and to disregard it are not forms of showing contempt; but the one is as far removed from the other as is the measure of contempt from admiration. What soul so unhappy as to disregard goods so great? I cannot say, unless anyone should be goaded on to it by a demon. Now I will go back to my starting-point. God has given greater power to priests than to parents, according to nature, not only for chastising but also for conferring benefits, and there is as great a difference between the two as between this present life and the life to come. Earthly parents generate for this present life, priests for the life to come: the former are unable to preserve their children from death even of the body or to ward off illness from them; but the latter have often saved a soul which was sick and about to be lost, procuring for some a milder chastisement, and keeping others out of trouble from the first, not only by teaching and advising, but also by helping them with prayer. Not only do they generate us anew, but after this they have authority to remit sins. _Is any man sick among you_, the Apostle says, _let him call in the elders of the Church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the Name of the Lord: and the prayer of faith shall save the sick man, and the Lord shall raise him up, and whatever sins he may have committed shall be forgiven him_. So parents in the order of nature can do nothing to help their children if these should chance to offend people in high places; but priests have reconciled them not to rulers or kings only, but to God Himself, Who was angered against them. After this will anyone venture to accuse us of folly? For my part I conceive that what has been said will inspire the souls of hearers with such respect that they will no longer charge with folly and audacity those who shrink from acquiring this honour for themselves, but those who seek and pursue it.

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The Priest a Shepherd of Souls. (_On the Priesthood_, b. vi., c. i.)

You have heard what is to be expected here on earth, but how shall we bear what is to come hereafter, when we shall be compelled to answer for everyone who has been entrusted to us? The punishment there does not stop with shame, but is a chastisement which never ends. If I began by quoting the words, _Render obedience and submission to those who are over you, and who are responsible for your souls, as giving an account for them_, I will not now withhold them. Fear of this judgment keeps me in a state of perpetual trembling. If, indeed, for scandalising one, and that one the least of all, it is better for a man to have a millstone about his neck and to be cast into the sea; and if all who inflict a blow upon the conscience of their brethren sin against Christ Himself, what will be the suffering on their account of those who destroy not one, or two, or three, but so great a multitude? It will not do to throw the blame on want of practice or to take refuge in ignorance, or to allege necessity or main force: it would be easier for a subject, if he required it, to make use of this excuse for his own sins than for rulers in those of others. What is meant by this? That he whose part it is to correct the ignorance of others, and to guard against the devil’s coming attack, may not allege his own ignorance, or say, ‘I did not hear the trumpet,’ or ‘I did not foresee war’. As Ezechiel said, this is the very reason why he is seated in his place, that he may sound the trumpet to others and warn them of coming troubles. On this account the chastisement is inexorable, even if only one be lost. For if, when the sword is brandished, the watchman does not sound the trumpet to the people, nor signal to them (he says), and the sword appearing destroys a life, that life has been lost through the man’s own lawlessness, but I will require his blood at the watchman’s hand.[18] Cease, then, to push us into that inevitable judgment. _We_ have to do, not with armies and kingdoms, but with an action which requires angelical goodness. The soul of a priest should be purer than the very rays of the sun, so that the Holy Spirit may never leave him to himself, that he may be able to say: _I live, not I, but Christ liveth in me_. If dwellers in the desert, who are removed from the cares of city, market-place, and all that these entail, and are ever in rest and peace, are unwilling to presume of their security in such a life, but add numberless cautions, fortifying themselves on all sides, ardent to do and to speak with much care, so that they may approach God as fearlessly and purely as it lies in human capacity to do, what think you the power and strength of the priest should be, to enable him to put off all defilement from his soul and to preserve spiritual beauty undamaged? For he ought to be much purer than they, and the more so as he incurs greater necessities than they, which may sully his purity, unless by constant watchfulness and strenuous effort he makes his soul inaccessible to their influence. Thus, there are fair faces, and luxurious movements, and a studied walk, and a mincing tone of voice, and painted eyes, and rouged cheeks, beautiful plaits, dyed hair, rich clothes, variegated golden ornaments, fine precious stones, the perfume of scents, and all other things of the kind, dear to the female sex, which are calculated to upset a soul that is not armed in the austerity of wisdom. It is no wonder if a man be troubled by _these_ things; but that the devil should be able by the contrary things to wage war against the souls of men and to wound them,—_this_ is most surprising and embarrassing. Already some who have escaped the former snares have allowed themselves to be taken by that which was so different. For an unstudied address, neglected hair, a dirty garment, a disordered appearance, a careless demeanour, a natural manner, frank language, an unartificial gait, an artless voice, a life of poverty, the being despised, and unprotected, and in solitude, have inspired a man at first with pity, and from that have led him to utter destruction. And many who have escaped the former snares, the snares of gold, and perfume, and clothes, and the rest which go with them, as I said, have fallen into these so far removed from those, and have been lost. Now, when the battle strikes on the spectator’s soul, and weapons of war surround him on all sides, whether by poverty or by riches, by adornment or by simplicity, by a studied manner or by unaffectedness, or in any other of the ways which I have enumerated, whence is refreshment to come to him who is thus hemmed in? How are we to meet the case, not of being taken by force, for this is not so very difficult, but of keeping our mind in tranquillity from impure thoughts? I pass over honours, which are the causes of a thousand evils. Those which come from women lower the tone of the tempered mind, and often work ruin whenever a man is not wholly on his guard against such plottings. And as to honours coming from men; if they be not received with much high-mindedness, they involve a man in two opposite sufferings—the slavishness of flattery and the foolishness of boasting. On the one hand, he is forced to stoop to those who serve him; on the other, he is puffed up against his inferiors through these honours of theirs, and thrust into an abyss of folly. _We_ say this, but the harm of it can only be properly ascertained by experience. And, necessarily, things much worse and more dangerous than these would happen to those who are in the midst of the fight. The lover of the desert is exempted from all this, for if a foolish thought _did_ suggest something of the kind to him, this imagination is weak and easily overcome, because the flame of the eyes is not fed by outward things. Now the monk fears for himself alone: even if he were obliged to think of others, these would be very few. Or if they were many, they would be fewer than those in churches, and give their superior little anxiety, not through their small numbers alone, but because they are removed from worldly business, and have neither children, nor wife, nor anything else of the kind to trouble about. It is this and the common life which have made them disposed to obey their rulers. Thus they are able to see and to correct their faults, for the constant watchfulness of the teacher is no slight thing towards increase of virtue. Now, the majority of men under the priest’s charge are taken up with worldly cares, and this makes them slack in the fulfilment of their spiritual duties. Hence the teacher should scatter the seed, so to speak, day by day, in order that the teaching by constantly falling should take root in the listener’s mind. For superfluous wealth, and great power, and the softness arising from luxury, and many other things joined to these, suffocate the seeds, and often the density of thorns does not allow the seed to shoot forth so as to be seen. Moreover, excessive tribulation, the necessities of poverty, constant reproaches, and everything else of the kind which is opposed to the former things, lead a man away from a holy zeal. Not even the smallest part of sins incurred can become manifest to them. How should it not be so when they know not the greater number even by sight? Thus onerous are a priest’s duties towards the people. But if anyone would consider duties towards God, he will find the others nothing at all, so much more careful and diligent a zeal do these require. For what sort of man should he be who rules an entire city—and why do I say a city?—the whole world rather—and has to propitiate God for the sins of all—not the sins of the living only, but those of the dead also. I hold that the courage of Moses and Elias is all insufficient for this ministry. Entrusted as if with the world itself, and the father of all, the priest thus approaches God in order to extinguish wars in every place and to appease strife, to bring about peace and plenty, and to ask both privately and publicly a speedy deliverance from the evils which are pressing upon every man. He himself ought to be as much above what he asks for as the ruler should be in everything above the ruled. Now, what place are we to assign to him when he calls down the Holy Spirit, and offers up the most tremendous Sacrifice, and continually holds in his grasp the common Lord of all? What purity shall we not expect him to have, what piety? Think what the hands should be which thus minister! What the tongue which utters those words! What should be purer or holier than the soul which receives so great a Spirit? Then angels surround the priest, and the sanctuary and all the place about the Sacrifice are filled with heavenly powers in honour of Him Who is lying there. And this can be sufficiently believed from the rites. But I once heard some one say that an old man, who was held in veneration and accustomed to revelations, told him he himself had been made worthy of this vision. At the time of the sacrifice he had suddenly seen a multitude of angels, as many as his eye could grasp, in shining garments surrounding the altar, bending low, as a man might see soldiers in the presence of the king, and this I believe. And another man told me, not what he had learnt from a third person, but what he himself had been allowed to see and to hear. This was it. When the departing, who have chanced to partake of the mysteries with a pure conscience, draw their last breath, angels, serving them as a body-guard for the sake of what they have received, lead them out of this world. Do you not tremble to come with this soul to this holy sacrifice, and to be at these solemn rites the man in soiled garments whom Christ cast out from the rest of the guests? The soul of the priest should be a light of justice to the world, but ours is so surrounded with the darkness of an evil conscience as to be always overclouded and unable to look fearlessly at its Lord. Priests are the salt of the earth; who could bear easily with our folly and our ignorance in everything if you were not accustomed to give us an exaggerated love? And it is not enough that he who has been entrusted with so wonderful a ministry should be pure; he should also be wise and experienced in many things; he should know worldly business not less than those engaged in the midst of it, and still be further removed from all things than monks in their desert. As he must come into contact with men who are married and have children to bring up, and keep servants and have much wealth, who are engaged in public business, who are in power, he should be many-sided. I say many-sided, not a schemer, neither a flatterer nor a hypocrite, but made up of much liberality and fortitude, knowing how to lend a useful hand whenever circumstances demand it, at once kind and austere. All subjects are not to be used in the same way, since the children of physicians deem it not good to apply one treatment to all the sick, nor has the pilot only one course at his command against the wind. Storms are ever hanging over _this_ bark, and these storms assail not only from without, but arise also within, and we need to have much condescension and much care. All these things which are different in themselves have one end in view—the glory of God and the strengthening of the Church.

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One Sacrifice. (_Homilies on Epistle to the Hebrews_,[19] xvii.)

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Tell me what need was there of having many sacrifices when one is sufficient? That there being many which were constantly offered might show their inefficacy for purification. Just as a powerful remedy, which is productive of health and able to remove all the malady, does everything by one application, and when this one application does everything, it shows its strength in not being applied again; and this is also its work, for if it be always used it is a sign that it has no efficacy. The merit of a remedy consists in being applied once and not often. And so it is here. Why, then, are they always cured by the same sacrifices? If they had been free from all sin, sacrifices would not have been offered up every day. Therefore, they were fixed things, so as to be invariably offered up for all the people both in the evening and in the morning. Thus, it was a confession of sins, not a remission of sins; a confession of weakness, not a manifestation of strength. Since the first sacrifice availed nothing the second was offered up, and that also proving ineffectual another followed, so that it was an acknowledgment of guilt. On the one hand, the act of offering was a confession of sin, and the ever-recurring offering was a confession of weakness. Now, with Christ it was the contrary. He was once offered up, and His one oblation sufficed for all time. He expressed it well by calling them images, for they present the figure only and not the strength of the reality. Just as an image represents the likeness of a man but not his power, so the truth and the figure have something in common with each other. The likeness is the same but not the living power. So it was in the matter of heaven and the tabernacle. The figure was equal, for it was holy; but the power and the other qualities were not the same. What is the meaning of _He hath appeared for the putting away of sin by the sacrifice of Himself_? What is the _putting away_? Contempt; for sin has no longer any assurance. It has been put away. How? Whereas it should have paid a penalty it did not, that is, force was put upon it; for just when it was likely to destroy all men it was itself taken away. _He hath been made manifest_, he says, _by the sacrifice of Himself_; that is, He was manifested to God and went to God. Now, because the priest did this many times in the year, do not think that this has taken place by chance and not through weakness. If not through weakness, why then did it take place? If there are no wounds, then neither are remedies necessary. Therefore, He enjoined that the sacrifice should be always offered up on account of weakness, and that it should take place as a commemoration of sins. What then? Do we not offer up sacrifice day by day? We do indeed, but we commemorate His death. This sacrifice is one, not many. How one and not many? Because it was once offered up, just as that one sacrifice in the holy of holies. This is a type of that, and that of the other. We are ever offering up the same Person. Not one sheep to-day and another to-morrow, but ever the same sheep, so that the sacrifice is one. Now, in virtue of this argument, since the sacrifice is offered up in many places, are there many Christs? By no means, but there is everywhere one Christ, as perfect in one place as in another, one body. Therefore, as He Who is offered up in many places is one Body and not many bodies, so is it one Sacrifice. He is our High Priest Who offered up the sacrifice which purifies us. This is that which now also we offer up; the One then offered up, the Inconsumable. This is done in commemoration of what was then done, for He says, _This do in commemoration of Me_. We are ever offering not another sacrifice, as the high priest then did, but always the same; or rather we make a commemoration of a sacrifice. And since I have spoken of this sacrifice, I would say a few things to you who are initiated, a few things in volume though possessing great power and help. What we speak is not ours but the Divine Spirit’s. What, then, is it? Many partake of this sacrifice once in the whole year, some twice, some often. Now, we speak to all, not only to those who are here, but to those who dwell in the desert. For they receive once a year, often, indeed, once in two years. Well, then, whom shall we prefer? Those who receive once, or those who receive twice, or those who receive often? Neither those who receive once, nor those who receive often, nor those who receive seldom, but those who receive with a pure conscience, and an undefiled heart, and an irreproachable life. Let such as these ever approach, and those who are not so not even once. Why? Because they take judgment to themselves, and condemnation, and chastisement, and penalty. Wonder not at this. For just as food, which by its nature is nourishing, if taken by a diseased stomach, destroys and withers up everything and prepares disease, so is it with this case of the tremendous mysteries. You are partaking of a spiritual table, of a royal table, and do you again fill your mouth with mud? You use perfumes, and do you again fill yourself with ill odours? Tell me, I beseech you, if you receive communion once a year, will forty days suffice you for the atonement of your sins during all that time? Again, at the end of a week perhaps, you return to your former ways. Now, tell me, if you were to enjoy good health for forty days after a long illness, and then were to go back to unwholesome food productive of disease, would you not waste your trouble? Evidently you would. If physical things are so changed, how much more those which belong to the will. Thus for instance, we see by nature, and we have naturally a healthy sight. But often our eyes fail from disease. If, therefore, natural things are so mutable, how much more that which is a matter of free-will! You give up forty days to the care of your soul’s health, often not even that, and you think to have appeased God? You are trifling, man! I say this, not forbidding you the one communion in the year, but wishing rather that you should always approach the holy things. So it is that the deacon raises his voice to call the holy, and, in doing this, scrutinises all, so that no one should approach unprepared. As with a flock of sheep, where many of them are sound and many are diseased, these latter have to be separated from the sound ones, so is it in the Church. Since here, too, some sheep are sound and some diseased, through this cry which is everywhere heard, this most awful voice, the priest separates the one from the other, invites and urges the holy to approach. As, however, man cannot know his fellow-man—for _what man has known that which is in man, if not the spirit of man that is in him_?—this cry he raises after the sacrifice is completed, so that no one should approach the spiritual fountain negligently or as if by chance. In the case of the flock—for there is no reason why we should not again make use of the same illustration—we shut up the sick ones within the fold, and keep them in a dark place, and give them different food. We allow them neither fresh air, nor pure grass, nor water in the open. Hence that voice is instead of a chain. You will not be able to say, ‘I was in ignorance of any danger following upon this act’. We have, too, the special witness of Paul in the matter. But you say, perhaps, ‘I have not read about it’. This is an accusation rather than an excuse. You are coming into the church every day and still do not know these things.

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The new Pasch. (_31st Homily on St. Matthew_, lxxxi., vol. ii., p. 459.)

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_And whilst they were at supper, Jesus took bread, and blessed, and broke, and gave to His disciples, and said: Take ye and eat: this is My Body. And taking the chalice, He gave thanks, and gave to them, saying: Drink_ _ye all of this; for this is my Blood of the new testament, which shall be shed for many unto remission of sins._ Consider what great hardness of heart the traitor showed. Partaking of the mysteries, he remained the same, and enjoying that most tremendous Banquet, he was not converted. This Luke plainly intimates when he says that after these things the devil entered into him, not despising the Lord’s Body, but scorning the traitor’s shamelessness. For his sin was the greater for two reasons: that he approached the mysteries with such a mind, and that, approaching them, he grew no better. Neither fear, nor gratitude, nor the honour received, had any influence over him. And although Christ knew all things, He did not forbid his approach in order to show you that He leaves no means of conversion untried. Therefore, both before this and after this, He continued to exhort and to check Judas both by actions and words, by fear and by kindness, by threat and by benefit. But nothing availed against that grievous sickness of his. Hence, leaving Judas to himself, He again reminds the disciples through the mysteries of His death as victim, and during the progress of the table discourses about the Cross, seeking, by His insistence in foretelling His passion, to find an entrance for it in their minds. If, with all that was done and foretold, they were troubled, what would they have suffered if they had heard none of these things? _Whilst they were eating, He took bread and broke it._ Why did he carry out this mystery at the time of the Pasch? In order to teach you everywhere that He is Himself the Lawgiver of the old dispensation, also, and that its ordinances were made to foreshadow these things. On this account He adds the reality to the type. The evening signified the fulness of time, and the end itself to which things were coming. He gives thanks, teaching us how we are to carry out this mystery, and showing us that He goes not unwillingly to the Cross. And He instructs us that, whatever we may suffer, we should bear it with thanksgiving, and opens out from this good hopes for us. For if the type released men from so grievous a slavery, how much more will the reality set the world free, and be bestowed for the blessing of our nature. For this reason He did not institute this mystery until the enactments of the Law were to cease, and He brings to a conclusion the chief of their feasts by translating them to another and a most awful Table, and says: _Take and eat, this is My Body which is broken for many_. How should they not have feared when they heard this? He had spoken to them often and much before on the same subject. Therefore, He no longer prepares them for it, for they had heard of it sufficiently; but He tells them the reason why He suffers—the remission of sins. He calls His Blood the Blood of the new Testament, that is, of the promise, of the gospel, and of the new law. For this both had been promised of old, and is the bond of the new Covenant. And as the old Covenant had sheep and heifers, so the new Covenant had the Lord’s Blood. Then He goes on to show them that He is about to die, and therefore He commemorates the Covenant, and recalls the old Covenant to their minds, for that too was consecrated through blood! And again He tells them why He is to die, _which is shed for many unto the remission of sins_, and He says: _Do this for a commemoration of Me_. Do you see how He leads them away and withdraws them from Jewish customs. ‘As you did that,’ He says, ‘for a commemoration of the wonders in Egypt, so do this for a commemoration of Me.’ That blood was shed to save the first-born sons: _this_ Blood for the remission of the sins of the whole world. _This is My Blood_, He says, _which is shed for the remission of sins_. He said this to show by this also that His sufferings and His cross are a mystery, and again, to comfort His disciples through it. And as Moses had said: _Let this be to you a perpetual memorial_, so _He_ said, _For a commemoration of Me_, until I come. And again, _With desire I have desired to eat this Pasch_, that is, ‘to give you the new gifts, that Pasch by which I intend to make you spiritual’. And He Himself drank of it. In order that men, hearing this, might not say: ‘How is this? Are we drinking blood and eating flesh?’ and then be troubled (for words of His on this subject had already disturbed them, and many had been scandalised by them); to remove, I say, their trouble, then also He did it first Himself, and led them gently to a participation of the mysteries. Therefore, He drank His own Blood. ‘How is this?’ you ask. ‘Did men of old do it?’ Certainly not. Therefore, He says: _Do this_, that He may draw them away from the other. For if this work the remission of sins, as indeed it does, the other is superfluous for the future. Now, as in the case of the Jews, so was it here. He bound up the commemoration of the benefit with the mystery, thereby stopping the mouths of heretics. For when they say, ‘How do we know that Christ suffered?’ amongst other arguments, we silence them also with the mysteries. If, indeed, Jesus did not die, what do the things involved in the rites symbolise?

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The ‘Eyes of Rome’. (_Homilies on Epistle to the Romans_,[20] xxxiii., vol. i., p. 489.)

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A good teacher makes it his special duty to help those he is teaching, not by word only, but by prayer also. Hence Paul’s words: _Let us give ourselves continually to prayer and to the ministry of the word_. Who will pray for us now that Paul has departed? Those who emulate Paul: let us only show ourselves worthy of so great an advocacy, that we may not alone hear Paul’s voice in this world, but when we depart hence may deserve to look upon that soldier of Christ. Or rather, if we listen to him here we are sure to see him there, and if we are not near to him we shall undoubtedly see him resplendent in glory close to the King’s throne, where the cherubim give praise, where the seraphim unfold their wings. There with Peter we shall see Paul, the head and leader of the choir of the saints, and we shall be in possession of true charity. For if in this world he so loved men as when he might have been dissolved and with Christ he chose to be here, how much more potently will he show forth the love-charm in that place. This is why I cherish Rome, although I have other grounds for my admiration in its size, and age, and beauty, and population, and power, and wealth, and its successes in wars; apart from all these things, I hold it blessed because Paul wrote to the Romans in his lifetime and loved them so much, because he spoke to them in person, and there finished his life. This is why that city is famous rather than for all other reasons put together: it is like a strong and beautiful human body with two shining eyes, which are the bodies of these two saints. The heavens are not so splendid when the sun is sending forth its rays as the city of Rome transmitting these two lights of hers to the whole world. Rome will yield up Paul; Rome will yield up Peter. Consider in awe what a sight Rome will witness when Paul rises in a moment from that tomb, together with Peter, and is borne away to meet Christ. Think what roses Rome presents to Christ, what a double crown surrounds the city, how it is girt with golden chains, and what the fountains of its being are. This is why I am in admiration at that city, not for its abundance of gold, not for its columns, nor for any other beauty it has, but for these pillars of the Church.

Who could now give me to embrace Paul’s body, to be nailed to his tomb, and to see the dust of him who completed what was wanting to the sufferings of Christ, who bore His marks, and sowed the earth with the Gospel? Who could give me to see the dust of that body in which he went over the world, through which Christ spoke, through which a light shone forth brighter than any lightning, and a voice arose more terrible to the devils than loudest thunder, through which he gave utterance to those blessed words: _Would that I could be anathema for my brethren_, which he used before kings and was not ashamed, through which we have known Paul and Paul’s Lord? We do not dread the thunderbolt as devils dread that voice. For if they trembled at his garments, how much more at his voice. This voice led them in chains, purified the world, cured diseases, put forth evil, set up truth, had the indwelling Christ, and with Him made itself everywhere heard. That voice of Paul’s was like the cherubim. As God took up His seat on those powers, so did He on the tongue of Paul. It became worthy to receive Christ, speaking those things which were dear to Christ, and soaring to an unspeakable height like the seraphim. For what is beyond those words of his: _I am sure that neither angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor present, nor future, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus_? How many wings does that voice seem to you to have? How many eyes? Therefore he said: _We are not ignorant of his devices_; and so the devils fled, not merely when they heard his voice, but when they saw his cloak from a distance. Would that I could see the dust of this mouth in which Christ did great and unspeakable things, and even greater things than by Himself—for that He _did_ work greater things by His disciples was what He said—through which the Spirit gave those wonderful oracles to the world. For what good thing did that mouth not accomplish? It put forth demons, remitted sins, curbed tyrants, silenced the tongues of philosophers, led the world to God, induced barbarians to be ascetic, and changed all things on earth; nay, in heaven too he did his will, binding and loosing those whom he chose to bind and to loose there, according to the power which was given to him. Would that I could look upon not only the dust of his mouth, but of that heart, which we might not wrongly call the heart of the world, the source of endless good, the beginning, fountainhead of our own life. From thence the spirit of life was poured out upon all, and was diffused amongst the members of Christ. It was sent forth, not through arteries, but through the free choice of good. That heart was so broad that it could embrace whole cities, and peoples, and nations. _My heart is enlarged_, he says. Yet, large as it was, his all-embracing love often urged and troubled it. _For out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you_, he says. This heart, even dissolved in dust, is what I long to see—the heart which was consumed for each individual sinner, suffering afresh the agony of child-birth over every abortive child, the heart which sees God: _For the clean of heart shall see God_: the heart which has become a sacrifice: _An afflicted spirit is a sacrifice to God_: that heart higher than the firmament, wider than the universe, brighter than sunshine, hotter than fire, stronger than adamant, giving forth fruitful streams: _For_, he says, _out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water_: hence arose the fresh spring which watered not the face of the earth, but the souls of men; hence sprung forth not rivers alone, but fountains of tears by day and by night: that heart which lived a new life, not this physical life of ours: _I live_, he says, _not I, but Christ liveth in me_. So that Paul’s heart was His heart—a tablet of the Holy Spirit, a book of charity, a heart in anguish over the sins of men: _I am afraid of you_, he says, _lest perhaps I have laboured in vain among you, and as the serpent seduced Eve, lest coming I should not find you as I wish_: a heart fearful about itself whilst full of courage: _I am afraid_, he says, _that after preaching to others I myself shall be cast out_; and, again: _I am sure that neither angels nor archangels shall_ _be able to separate us_: the heart which was made worthy to love Christ as no one else has loved Him, despising death and hell, and torn by the tears of his brethren. _What are you doing_, he says, _weeping and filling my heart with anguish_?—that strongest of hearts, which could not endure for a moment to be away from the Thessalonians. Would that I could see the dust of those fettered hands through which the imposition of the Spirit was given and the divine words were written: _See what a letter I have written to you with my own hand_; and, again: _A greeting from the hand of Paul_, of those hands at sight of which the viper fell into the fire. Would that I could look upon the dust of those gloriously-blinded eyes which saw the light again for the world’s salvation and were made worthy in the body to behold Christ, and saw earthly things without seeing them, those eyes which looked upon unseen things, which knew not sleep, which were watching in the midst of night, and which did not suffer what other eyes suffer. Would that I could see the dust of those feet which toiled over the world and wearied not, which were chained to a pillory when he was imprisoned, of those feet which traversed known and unknown regions and were often on the way. And why should I speak of each member separately? Would that I could see that tomb in which the armour of justice is stored up, the armour of light, those members which are now in life, which were dead whilst living, in all of which Christ lived, which were crucified to the world, those members of Christ which had put on Christ, the temple of the Spirit, the dwelling-place of holiness, which were chained to the Spirit and nailed to the fear of God, bearing the marks of Christ. This is the body which protects that city and is stronger than any tower of defence or any number of fortifications, and with it is that of Peter, whom he honoured in life, _for he went up to consult Peter_. In death, therefore, charity made him worthy to be Peter’s companion. Would that I could see this lion according to the Spirit. For like a lion breathing fire on troops of foxes so did he spring upon the tribe of devils and philosophers and fall like a heavy thunderbolt upon the devil’s ranks. Nor did the devil stand against Paul in battle, but so great was his fear and trembling that he retreated from his shadow or his voice. So it was that, being far off, Paul gave the fornicator up to him and again snatched him from his hands, and so he did others too, that they might be taught not to blaspheme. Consider how he ranges against the foe those who are under his own command, rousing and spurring them on. Thus, when he said to the Ephesians, _Our warfare is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers_, he added the reward also, by the words _in heavenly things_. _For_, he said, _our warfare is not for earthly things, but for heaven and heavenly things_. And to others his words were: _Know you not that we shall judge angels, how much more things of this world?_ Taking all this to heart, let us stand bravely. For Paul was also a man and of the same nature as we are, having everything else in common with us; but because he showed a great love for Christ he scaled the heavens and found his place with the angels. If, then, we wish to rouse ourselves a little and to kindle that fire within us, we should emulate that holy one. He tells us himself that this is not impossible: _Be imitators of me as I am of Christ_. Therefore let us not only admire him and wonder at him, let us also imitate him, that at our departure hence we may be made worthy to see him and to share that unspeakable glory. May this be granted to all of us through the grace and love of Our Lord Jesus Christ, to Whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, be praise for ever and ever. Amen.

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‘This is My Body.’ (_1st Homily on the Betrayal of Judas_, _Benedictine Edition_, t. ii., p. 381.)

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Then the disciples came to Him. _Then._ When? When these things were taking place, and the betrayal was effected, and Judas destroyed himself, the disciples came to Him, saying, _Where wilt Thou that we prepare to eat the Pasch_? Mark you the difference between disciple and disciples? The one betrays his Lord, the others busy themselves with preparing the Pasch; the one makes a bargain, the others minister for His table: both the one and the others had enjoyed the same miracles, the same teaching, the same authority. Now, how do they differ? In the will: this is everywhere the cause, both of all good and all evil. _Where wilt Thou that we prepare to eat the Pasch?_ _Then_ was that same evening. As Our Lord had no house of His own, they said to Him, _Where wilt Thou that we prepare to eat the Pasch?_ We have no settled dwelling-place, neither tent nor house. Let those who dwell in splendid houses, and spacious courts, and large precincts be taught that Christ had not where to lay His head. Therefore they asked, _Where wilt Thou that we prepare to eat the Pasch?_ What Pasch? This was not our Pasch, but still the Jews’ Pasch; it was this Jewish Pasch which _they_ prepared; Our Lord Himself prepared ours. Not only did He prepare it Himself, but He became our Pasch. _Where wilt Thou that we prepare for Thee to eat the Pasch?_ This was the Jewish Pasch which had begun in Egypt. Now, why did Christ partake of it? Because He accomplished all the observances of the law. At His baptism He said: _Thus it becomes us to fulfil all justice_. I came to redeem man from the malediction of the law. For God sent His own Son, made of woman, made under the law, that He might redeem those who were bound by it, and might put an end to the law. Now, to prevent anyone from saying that He abolished the law because He was unable to fulfil it, as being burdensome, and hard, and oppressive, having first Himself carried it out, He then dissolved it. On this account He held the Pasch also, for the Pasch was an ordinance of the law. And why did the law order the eating of the Pasch? The Jews were ungrateful towards their benefactor, and so immediately after the benefits they forgot God’s precepts. When they came out of Egypt, and saw the waters parted, and again closed, and a thousand other wonders, they said, _Let us make to ourselves gods who may go before us_. What say you? You still touch the wonders with your hands, and have you forgotten the benefactor? Since, therefore, they were thus without feeling or understanding, God kept alive the memory of His gifts by the ordinance of feasts, and He commanded the Pasch to be sacrificed, so that if your son ask you, ‘What is this Pasch?’ you may answer, ‘Our forefathers in Egypt sprinkled their doors with the blood of the lamb, lest the angel of destruction, when he came, should enter in and smite with the plague’. Thus the feast was a perpetual memorial of salvation. Moreover, not only did these feasts benefit them by keeping fresh the memory of graces in the past, but something much more, for they foreshadowed what was to come. That lamb, indeed, was the figure of another Lamb, a spiritual Lamb, and that sheep of another Sheep. The one was a shadow, the other the reality. When the Sun of Justice appeared, the shadow forthwith ceased, for at sunrise the shadows depart. Consequently, at that table itself, each Pasch takes place—the Pasch of the figure and the Pasch of the reality. Just as painters use one and the same canvas for outlining their subject and depicting shadow, and then add colouring to make it life-like, so did Christ act. At one and the same table He showed forth the typical Pasch, and set up the true Pasch. _Where wilt Thou that we prepare for Thee to eat the Pasch?_ It was then the Jewish Pasch, but when the sun appears let the lamp be extinguished; with the advent of truth let the shadow languish.

I say these things to the Jews since they seem to celebrate a Pasch, since the uncircumcised in heart put forward their unleavened bread with a gross mind. Tell me, O Jew, how do you sacrifice the Pasch? The temple is destroyed, the altar has been taken away, the holy of holies has been trampled under foot, all show of sacrifice has ceased. Wherefore, then, do you venture to carry out practices so illegal? You went out once into Babylon, and there those who had taken you captive said, _Sing us a song of Sion_, and you would not. And David spoke with the same intent: _We sat beside the waters of Babylon and wept; we hung up our organs on the willows in the midst of it_, that is, our instruments, harps, lyres, and the rest. Men of old used these things, and thus sung hymns, and when they went into captivity took them so as to have a reminder of their life in their own country, not to use them. _For there_, he says, _they who held us captive asked us for words of songs, and we said, How shall we sing the song of the Lord in a strange land?_ What! you will not sing the song of the Lord in a strange land, and yet will you celebrate the Pasch of the Lord in a strange land! What ingratitude and iniquity! Because those who constrained them were enemies, they dared not even sing a psalm in a strange land. And now of themselves, whereas no man puts force upon them, they wage war against God. Do you see how their unleavened bread is unclean and their feast illegal? Now there is no Jewish Pasch. There was one then, but it is dissolved now, and the spiritual Pasch came, which was given then by Christ. For as they were eating and drinking, the Evangelist says, taking bread, He broke and said: _This is My body, which is broken for you unto the remission of sins_. The initiated understand these words. Then, taking the chalice, He said: _This is My Blood, which is shed for many unto the remission of sins_. And Judas was present as Christ spoke thus. This is the very Body which you have sold for thirty pieces of silver, O Judas; this is the very Blood which you have just shamefully bartered to the unfeeling Pharisees. O loving kindness of Christ! O foolish madness of Judas! On the one hand Judas sold Him for thirty pieces of silver, whilst Christ even after this did not refuse to give that Blood, which had been betrayed, to the traitor for the remission of his sins, if he had so willed. And Judas was there, and he partook of the sacred table. For, as Our Lord had washed his feet, together with the other disciples’, so did he eat with them of the sacred table, in order that he might have no excuse for remaining obdurate. Our Lord did everything in His power, yet Judas persisted in his wickedness.

But it is now time for us to approach that tremendous table. Let us, therefore, all go to it with becoming sobriety and watchfulness. Let there be no Judas here, no guilty man, no one infected with poison, no man with one thing in his mouth and another in his mind. The same Christ is now here Who prepared that table. And He it is Who is now preparing it. For it is not a man who makes the offerings become the Body and Blood of Christ, but the very Christ for us crucified.[21] Fulfilling what he represents, the priest stands there, speaking those words; the power and grace of them are God’s. _This is My Body_, he says, and this word transforms what lies before him;[22] and just as the words, _Increase and multiply and fill the earth_, were once spoken and endue our nature through all time with fruitfulness, so those other words once spoken from that time till to-day and until His coming, make the sacrifice over each table in the churches complete. Therefore, let no hypocrite approach, no one filled with sin, no one with poison in his mind, that he may not receive judgment to himself, for then, too, Judas had partaken of the oblation when the devil leapt into him; not that the devil despised the Lord’s Body, but Judas for his shameful conduct. This was to teach you that the devil continually attacks and assails those who unworthily partake of the divine mysteries, as he did Judas. For honourable things profit the good, but inflict a greater punishment on those who abuse the use of them. I say this not to terrify but to fortify you. Let there be no Judas, then; let no one enter in poisoned with evil. For the sacrifice is spiritual food; and just as bodily food, when received by a stomach which has bad humours, strengthens disease, not from its own nature but because of that stomach’s weakness, so does it usually happen with the spiritual mysteries. They, too, when received by a soul full of wickedness, wither it up and corrupt it the more, not by their own nature, but through the weakness of the participating soul. Let no one, therefore, indulge in bad thoughts; let us rather cleanse our mind, for we are approaching an immaculate sacrifice; let us make our souls holy. This may be done even in one day. How? If you have anything against an enemy cast out your anger, cure your wound, give up your enmity, in order that you may receive a healing from that table, for you are approaching a tremendous and all-holy sacrifice. Reverence the reason which prompts this offering. Christ lies slain before you. Why was He slain, and on what account? That He might bring about peace between the things of heaven and the things of earth; that He might make you the friend of angels, and reconcile you to the God of all; and that, whereas you were a foe and an enemy, He might transform you into His friend. _He_ gave up His own life for those who hated Him. _You_ continue in enmity with your fellow-servant, and how will you be able to approach the table of peace? He did not refuse even to die for you. Will you not put away for your own sake your anger against your fellow-servant? What excuse has this conduct? ‘He has treated me badly,’ you say, ‘and has been most grasping.’ What is this? It was a sheer money loss, but he was far from wounding you as Judas did Our Lord. Yet _He_ gave that very blood which poured from Him for the salvation of those who shed it. What have you to put against this? If you do not forgive your enemy you have wounded not him but yourself. You have often done him some harm in this life, but you have prepared for yourself a relentless sentence in the enduring day of eternity. For nothing is so hateful to God as a revengeful man, an unforgiving heart, and an angered mind. Listen to what He says: _When thou offerest thy gift at the altar, and as thou standest there, rememberest that thy brother hath anything against thee, take thy gift from the altar, and going away, be reconciled to thy brother, and then offer thy gift_. What? Do you tell me that I must forgive? ‘I do, indeed,’ He says; ‘this sacrifice was instituted in order that you and your brother should be at peace.’ If, therefore, it was instituted that you might be at peace with your brother, and you do not enjoy peace, it is idle for you to take part in the sacrifice, and it has been instituted in vain as far as you are concerned. Do, then, in the first place, that for which the sacrifice is offered, and then you will enjoy its full benefit. The Son of God came down from heaven that He might reconcile our nature to its Lord, and on this account not only did He come, but wished also to make us who should do the same things participators of His Name. _Blessed are the peacemakers_, He says, _for they shall be called the sons of God_. That which the only begotten Son of God did, do you also according to your human power, by becoming a bond of peace to yourself and to others. This is why He calls you who are a peacemaker a son of God; this is why, in the time of sacrifice, He is mindful of no other commandment than that of reconciliation with a brother, showing that it is the greatest of all. Would that I could go on with the argument, but what I have said is sufficient for those who are here present, if they will lay it to heart. Let us always be mindful of these words, beloved brethren, and of the holy kiss of peace, and of the most sacred embrace which we give to each other. For this it is which holds our minds together, and makes us all one body, since we all partake of one Body. Let us then blend ourselves into one body, not mixing our bodies, but uniting our souls in the bond of charity; thus we shall be able to enjoy the table set before us with confidence. For even if we should be righteous a thousand times over, and yet have revengeful spirits, all is vanity and deception, and we shall be powerless to gain fruits of salvation here. Recognising this, let us put off all anger, and, purifying our conscience, let us with all meekness and humility approach the table of Christ, to Whom, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, be all glory, honour, and power, now and for ever! Amen.

The Union of the Holy Eucharist. (_Homilies on St. Matthew_, lxxxii., vol. ii., p. 468.)

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Let us then trust in God under all circumstances, and never gainsay Him, even when what He says seems contrary to our reasonings and to our sight; but let His word be more powerful than our reasoning and our sight. So let us act in regard to the mysteries, not seeing only that which is before us, but also embracing His words. _His_ word is not to be set aside, whereas our senses are easily deceived. _It_ has never failed, but our senses have erred over and over again. Since, then, the word is, _This is My Body_, let us trust and believe in it, and gaze at it with our mind’s eyes. For Christ delivered to us nothing that is the object of sense, but objects all of the mind, yet dealing with sensible things. Thus, too, in baptism, the gift is made through an object of sense—the water, and that which is accomplished, is an object of mind, viz., birth and renewal. For, if you were bodiless, He would have given you bodiless gifts in their nakedness; but, since the soul is encompassed by the body, He gives you objects of mind, under the appearance of sensible things. How many men say, ‘I should like to see His form and features, His garments and His shoes? Well, you see Him, and touch Him, and eat Him. You desire to see what He wore, and He gives you Himself, not to see only, but to touch, and to eat, and to receive within you. Therefore, let no man approach with disgust or carelessness, but all with fire, and zeal, and watchfulness. For, if the Jews ate their Pasch in haste, standing, and holding their sandals and staffs in their hands, how much more should you be wary. _They_ were about to go out to Palestine, and so they had the outward signs of travellers, and _you_ are going forth to heaven. Hence we must be ever on the watch, for not a small punishment is reserved to those who eat unworthily. Think what your anger is against the traitor, and those who crucified Him, and see if you are not yourself guilty of the Body and Blood of Christ. They slaughtered the all-holy Body, and you receive it with a foul soul after so many loving benefits. He deemed it not sufficient to become man, to be scourged, and put to death, He also blends Himself with us, not by faith only, but in very deed makes us His Body. What, then, should be the purity of him who partakes of this sacrifice? How spotlessly white should not the hand be which divides this Flesh, or the mouth which is filled with spiritual fire, or the tongue which is purpled with that tremendous Blood? Consider what honour has been shown to you, and what that feast is which you enjoy. The angels gaze and tremble, and dare not look back again, because of the lightning which flashes from it; and this is what we feed upon, this is blended with us, and we ourselves become one body and one flesh with Christ. _Who shall declare the powers of the Lord? Who shall set forth all His praises?_ Where is the shepherd who feeds his sheep with his own members? And why do I talk of a shepherd? There are many mothers who, after the pains of childbirth, give up their children to be nursed by others. This He would not suffer, but He Himself feeds us with His own Blood, and in everything unites us to Himself. For consider: He was born of our substance. ‘Not for all men,’ you say. Yes, for all. For, if He came to our nature, it is evident that He came to all, and if He came to all, then He came to each one of us. And why is it, you ask, that all men have not profited by this gift? This was not the fault of Him Who took that nature for all, but of those who had not the will. He unites Himself to each one of the faithful, through the mysteries, and those whom He brought forth He rears through Himself, and gives Himself to no other, persuading you again thereby that it was that very flesh of yours which He took. Therefore, let us not grow negligent who have been made worthy of so great charity and honour. Do you not see how eagerly babies grasp their mother’s breast, and how they press their lips upon it. Just so let _us_ approach this table and the breast of spiritual drink; or rather, with much more impatience, let us draw near to the kindness of the Spirit, as children to their mother’s breast, and let us know one only pain, that of not participating in this food. That which lies before us is no work of human power. He Who did these things at that supper is He Who is now doing them. Our part is to furnish the ranks of servers. He Who sanctifies and prepares these gifts is Himself. Therefore let there be no Judas, no money-lover. If a man be not a disciple, let him withdraw: this table is not prepared for such as he. _I will eat the Pasch_, He says, _with My disciples_. This is that same table, and it offers no less. It was not that Christ instituted the one and a man the other, but He instituted both one and the other. This is that upper chamber in which they were assembled; thence they went forth into the Garden of Olives. Let us also go forth to minister to the poor, for this is our mountain of olives. The multitude of the poor, who are planted in God’s house, are olives, dropping upon us the oil that is to be useful to us, which the five virgins had, and the five who did not take it perished for want of it. Possessing it, let us go in, that we may all meet the Bridegroom, with bright lamps: with it, let us go forth from this world.

Bone of our Bone, Flesh of our Flesh. (_Homilies on First Epistle to Corinthians_, xxiv., vol. ii., pp. 287, 295.)

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_The chalice of benediction which we bless, is it not the communion of the Blood of Christ?_ What do you say, blessed Paul? Wishing to engage your hearers’ attention and commemorating the tremendous mysteries, do you call that awful and most tremendous chalice a chalice of benediction? ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘since what I have said is no slight thing. For when I speak of benediction I speak of the Eucharist, and when I speak of the Eucharist I unfold all the treasure of God’s munificence and commemorate His greatest gifts.’ And we, recounting over the chalice the unspeakable benefits of God and what mercies we have enjoyed, thus worship Him and hold communion with Him, giving thanks that He has freed the human race from error, that whereas we were far off from Him He drew us near, that when we were without hope and without God in the world He made us His brethren and co-heirs. Thus, in thanking Him for these and all His gifts, we approach Him. How, then, O Corinthians, are you not doing the opposite to this when praising God for turning you away from idols you hasten back to their tables? _Is not the chalice of benediction which we bless the communion of the Blood of Christ?_ He spoke these words with an awful assurance. For this is what he says: that which is in the chalice is what flowed from His side, and of that we partake. But He called it a chalice of thanksgiving, since we, holding it in our hands, thus praise Him, wondering and being overwhelmed with this ineffable gift, magnifying Him for pouring out this very Blood of His that we might not remain in error, and not only that He poured it out, but that He has given to each one of us to partake of it. So, He says, if you desire blood, do not dye the altar of idols with the slaughter of unreasoning animals, but dye My altar with _My_ Blood.[23] Tell me what is more tremendous, what is tenderer than this? For this is what lovers do: when they see the loved ones longing for what others have and despising what they themselves have, they give their own gifts, and so induce the beloved to turn away from the things of others. But lovers show this affection of theirs by money, and clothes, and chattels, no one of them ever by his blood; yet Christ gave us even this proof of His solicitude and His burning love for us. Thus, in the old Law, as men were in an imperfect state and offered blood to idols, it remained for Him to receive this (the chalice of the Pasch) that He might turn them away from idols, which, again, was an ineffable tenderness. But here He led them up to a far more awful and magnificent worship of God, and changed the sacrifice itself, and instead of the slaughtering of unreasoning animals, He commanded them to offer up Himself. _Is not the bread which we break the communion of the Body of Christ?_ Why did he not say a participation? Because he wished to set forth something more and to show the closeness of that union. For we communicate not only by receiving and participating, but by being made one with Him. For just as that body is united to Christ, so are we made one with Him through this bread. Why did he add, _which we break_? This is seen to take place in the case of the Eucharist, though not at the Cross, but the contrary. _Not a bone of Him shall be broken_, the Scripture says. That which He did not suffer on the cross He suffers in the Eucharist for your sake, and He endures being broken that He may fill all.

Then after saying _the communion of the body_—for that which communicates is something distinct from the thing communicated—he removed even this seemingly slight difference. For in the words _communion of the body_ he sought to say something closer, and therefore added, _That we, being many, are one bread and one body_. ‘Why do I speak of communion?’ he says; ‘we are that very Body itself. For what is the bread? The Body of Christ. What do partakers of it become? The Body of Christ: not many bodies, but one body.’ Just as bread is composed of many grains of wheat which are nowhere apparent in it, but still there, presenting no difference by reason of the kneading, so are we joined together with each other and with Christ. You are not nourished by one body and another man by another, but all by the same; therefore he added, ‘We are all participators of the same bread’. But if we _are_ of the same, and become the same, why do we not all show forth the same charity and become one in this respect also? For this was so formerly in our progenitors. _There was one heart and one mind in the gathering of the faithful._ This is not the case now, but very much the reverse. Dissensions are many and various and well-nigh everywhere, and we show ourselves fiercer than wild beasts towards our members. Christ united you to Himself when you were so distant, and you will not deign to be united with your brother as you ought to be, but thrust yourself away from him, whilst enjoying so great a love and life from your Master. It was not for no purpose that He gave His Body, but as the first human nature, which was made from the earth, became by sin subject to death and to be deprived of life, He introduced, as we might say, another bread and leaven—His own Flesh—in nature, indeed the same, but free from sin and full of life; and He gave to all men to eat of it, that, nourished by it and putting off the old dead nature, we may at this table be blended with the living and immortal nature.

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This Body He gave to us to take and eat, which was an act of exceeding love.[24] For it often happens that we bite those whom we love. Thus, when Job pointed out the affection of his household for himself, he quoted those who loved him specially as often saying, _Who will give us to be filled with his flesh?_ So it is that Christ has given us to be filled with His Flesh, drawing us to greater love. Let us, therefore, approach Him with fervour and burning love, that we may not encounter the harder chastisement. For the more we are benefitted, the greater will be our punishment whenever we show ourselves unworthy of His generosity. This Body, even lying in the manger, the Magi reverenced: untutored and uncivilised men, leaving their country and their home, undertook a long journey, they came and adored, full of awe and fear. Let us, citizens of heaven, emulate even uncivilised men, if necessary. _They_, seeing Him in a manger, and in a hut, and not seeing Him as you see Him, approached Him with deep reverence: you see Him not in the crib, but on the altar: you see Him not held by a woman, but the priest standing there, and the Spirit hovering with abundant blessings over what is lying there. Nor do you merely see this Body as they did: _you_ know His power and all the economy of His providence, nor are you ignorant of anything accomplished through Him, initiated as you are into all His mysteries. Let us therefore rouse ourselves, and tremble, and show forth so much the greater reverence than those men from afar, in order that we may not approach Him heedlessly or casually, and so heap coals of fire upon our heads. This I say, not that we may not approach Him, but that we may not approach Him carelessly. For just as going to Him in a chance way is a danger, so the non-participation in that mystical Banquet is hunger and death. This Feast is the sinew of our soul, the bond of intellect, the basis of fortitude; it is hope, salvation, light, life. With this sacrifice, at our departure from this world to the next, we shall pass through those sacred portals in great fearlessness, as if encompassed with an armour of gold. And why do I speak of the future? Even here this mystery makes the earth a heaven for you. At least unfold the gates of heaven and look through them, or rather not only the gates of heaven, but of the heaven of heavens, and then you will see what I say. For that which is the most precious of all things there, is what I will show you lying on earth. Just as in royal palaces it is not the walls which strike men with the most awe, nor the golden ceilings, but the person of the king sitting on his throne, so in heaven is it the King’s Body. Yet this is what you may now see on earth. I am showing you not angels, nor archangels, nor the heavens, nor the heaven of heavens, but the Lord of all these Himself. Do you understand how it is that you see the most precious thing of all upon earth? And not only do you see it, but you also touch it? And not only touch it, but you eat it, and, receiving it, you take it away with you? Cleanse, therefore, your soul; prepare your mind for the reception of these mysteries. If, now, you were judged worthy to carry a royal child in state, with his kingly robes and his diadem, you would give up everything on earth for it. And, here, receiving not a royal child of man, but the very only begotten Son of God, tell me, do you not tremble, and renounce the love of all earthly things, and adorn yourself only for that world to come, or have you still your eyes fixed on the earth, do you still love money, and anxiously crave for gold? What pardon could you look for, or what excuse would you have? Know you not how Our Lord turns His back upon all worldly luxury? Was not this His reason for being born and laid in a manger, and for choosing a mother who was poor? Was it not for this that He said to the man who looked to worldly traffic: _The Son of man has not whereon to lay His head_? And what of His disciples? Did not they carry out the same law, lodging at the houses of the poor, one going to a tanner’s, another to a tent-maker’s, another to the woman selling purple? They did not seek for illustrious houses, but for upright minds. Let us then emulate their example; looking beyond the beauty of pillars and marbles, seeking only for the mansions above, let us trample under foot all vanities here below, together with the lust for money, and take up a lofty mind. For if we be sober and watchful, the world itself will not be worthy of us, much less the Stoic portico or the Peripatetic walk. Therefore, I repeat, let us adorn our souls, let us prepare this dwelling-place, which we shall take with us when we depart, so that we may possess the eternal tents through the grace and love of Our Lord Jesus Christ, to Whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

Remembrance of the Dead. (_Homilies on Epistle to the Philippians_, iv., vol. v., p. 36.)

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Let us, then, not simply grieve for the dead, nor simply rejoice in the living. Then what shall we do? Let us grieve for sinners not when dead alone, but when living also; and let us be glad over the just not in their lifetime only, but when they have departed hence. Sinners even living are dead, whilst the just, who are dead, live: sinners are an object of pity to all men even here because they have quarrelled with God, so are the just blessed in that place, since they have gone to Christ. Sinners, wherever they are, are far from the King, and therefore deserve tears, but the just, whether here or there, are with the King; _there_ they are more with Him and nearer to Him, not by their going in, nor by faith, but face to face. Let us, then, not weep simply for the dead but for those in sin: these call for tears, for lamentation and weeping. For, tell me, what hope is there of those who depart in sins to that place where sins are not put off? As long as they were here, the probability was great that they might be converted and become better. But if they go to the other world, there is nothing to be gained from contrition. _In hell_, he says, _who shall give praise to Thee_? Let us weep for those who thus depart. I do not forbid it, only not in an unseemly fashion, not plucking out our hair, nor baring our arms, nor tearing our face, nor wearing black, but only in shedding a bitter tear according to the spirit in secret. Without these accompaniments we may weep bitterly, and not be contented with a show, for what some people have done differs in nothing from a show. For instance, those who beat themselves at the market-place do it not from sympathy, but for display and for self-seeking and vainglory, and many women so treat themselves as a business speculation. Weep bitterly, groan at home when no one is looking: this is sympathy, and this will be helpful to you also. For, in grieving for another, you will be all the more zealous never to fall in the same way, and you will tremble at sin ever afterwards. Weep for unbelievers, for those who are not different from unbelievers, who depart hence without baptism, without being signed with the seal: these should have tears and wailings, they are outside the royal palace with those awaiting judgment and with the condemned. _Amen, I say to you, unless a man be born of water and the Spirit, he shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven._ Weep for those who have died in riches, and have devised no comfort for their own souls out of their wealth, who have received power to wash away their sins, and have not willed to do it. Weep all of you for these both in secret and in public, but with decorum and reverence, not making a show of yourselves. Let us shed tears over these not for one day, nor two, but during our whole life. This is no foolish weeping, but the weeping of affection; the other is senseless, and therefore it soon spends itself. Grief which is born of the fear of God endures for ever. Let us weep for these and help them as much as we can. Let us devise some succour for them; it may be a slight thing, but let us somehow do it. How and in what manner? By praying and inviting others to pray for them, by constantly giving alms to the poor for them. This deed has its consolation. Listen to God’s words: _I will protect this city for Myself and for David, My servant_. If the mere remembrance of a just man could do so much, what will works done for him not be able to accomplish? Not in vain was it ordained by the Apostles that the dead should be commemorated at the tremendous mysteries: they knew what a great gain and benefit it would be to the dead. For when a whole people stands with uplifted hands in full and sacred assembly, and the awful sacrifice is lying before us, how shall we not reach God in our prayer for them? But this applies to those who have died in the faith. With regard to catechumens they are not deemed worthy of this consolation; they lack all such succour, save in one particular. What is this? We may give alms for them to the poor, and the action brings them a certain refreshment, because God wills us to be of use to each other. For why did He command us to pray for the peace and well-being of the world, or, again, for all men? Although there are thieves, and tomb-despoilers, and plunderers, and men full of every sort of evil amongst the whole number, yet we still pray for them all. Perhaps there may be a conversion of some. Now, as we pray for the living who do not differ from the dead, so we may pray for the departed. Job offered sacrifices for his children, and freed them from their sins. _Lest perhaps_, he said, _they have sinned in their hearts_. Thus is a man provident for his children. He did not say, as the multitude of men _do_ say, ‘I will leave them possessions,’ nor a fine name, nor, ‘I will buy an office,’ nor fields, but what, _Lest perhaps they have sinned in their hearts_. For what is the profit of those things? None, of things that remain here below. _I will make_, he says, _the King of all propitious to them: and then nothing is wanting to them_. _The Lord is my Shepherd, and I shall lack for nothing._ Here are great riches, here are treasures. If we have the fear of God we want nothing, but without it, even if we have a kingdom, we are the poorest of men. A God-fearing man has no equal. The fear of the Lord exceeds all things. This let us possess, and let us do all things unto this end: even if we have to give up our life, or our body to be cut in pieces, let us not fear: let us do all our actions in order to gain this fear. Thus shall we become richer than all, and arrive at the goods to come in Christ Jesus Our Lord, to Whom, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be honour, power, and glory, now and for ever. Amen.

The Departed at the Sacred Mysteries. (_Homilies on First Epistle to Corinthians_, xli., vol. ii., p. 524.)

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Since, then, we are to enjoy goods so great, let us join ourselves to that company which is as bright as the sun, and let us not weep for those who depart hence, but for those who make a bad end. For, as the husbandman does not grieve over his seed dissolved, but is in fear and anxiety as long as it remains solid, so he rejoices when he sees that it _is_ dissolved. For dissolution is the beginning of the future generating. So let us also rejoice when the corruptible habitation perishes, and man is generated. And wonder not if Paul called the burying a generating, for this is the better generating of the two. Death, labours, dangers, cares, succeed the one; whilst for the other, if we have lived righteously, we receive crowns and rewards: corruption and death succeed the one; incorruption, immortality, and a thousand goods succeed the other. In the one generating there is embracing, pleasure, sleep; in the other there is only the voice coming down from heaven, and all things accomplished in the twinkling of an eye. And he who rises is no more driven to a laborious life, but he will be where pain and sorrow and lamentation have fled away. If, however, you are seeking for a protector, and weep over the man on this account, fly for refuge to God, the common Protector, and Saviour, and Benefactor of all: to the almighty Friend, to the never-failing Succour, to the lasting Shelter, Who is everywhere and always holding us up. ‘But,’ you say, ‘the intercourse was pleasant and fascinating.’ I know it was. Still, if you meet your suffering with your reason, and consider in yourself who it is that has taken him, and that if you bear it bravely, you offer up your wish as a sacrifice to God, you will be borne aloft even over this wave, and Christian principle will effect what the action of time does; but if you are pusillanimous, time will weaken your passion without bringing you a reward. Together with these recollections, ponder on the examples offered both in this present life and in Holy Scripture. Consider how Abraham slaughtered his own son, neither shedding tears nor uttering a bitter word. ‘But _he_ was Abraham,’ you say. Yet you are called to greater conflicts. Job, indeed, showed sorrow as a loving father would who mourns over those departing from him. Now _we_ show the grief of foes and enemies. For if a man were summoned to a palace and crowned, and you were to beat your breast and be in sorrow at it, I should say you were not a friend to the man crowned, but a determined adversary and hater. ‘I am not weeping for him,’ you say, ‘but for myself.’ Neither is this the part of a lover—the wishing him to be still in conflict on your account, to be left in uncertainty as to the future, instead of being crowned, or to be tossing on the sea when he might be resting in harbour. ‘But,’ you say, ‘I know not where he has gone.’ How is it that you do not know? This will be evident from the fact of his having lived righteously or the reverse. ‘And as he departed in sin, this is the very reason why I am tormented.’ What you say is a mere pretext. If this is why you mourn over a dead man, you should have taken pains with the living one and set him right. You are throughout thinking of your own interests, not of his. If, indeed, he departed hence in sin, you should rejoice that his sins were stopped and that he did not continue in evil, and you should help him by those means which are in your power: not by tears, but by prayers, and supplications, and alms-giving, and offerings. It is not by chance that these things have been ordered, nor is it due to haphazard that we commemorate the dead at the sacred mysteries, and that we succour them by supplication to the Lamb, Who is lying there, Who takes away the sins of the world, but that they may derive hence some consolation. Nor is it without reason that he who is standing by the altar, as the sacred mysteries are performed, utters this cry: for all those who have fallen asleep in Christ, and for those who make commemoration in their behalf. For if commemoration were not made for them, this would not be said. Our mysteries are no theatrical display. God forbid! These things take place by the disposition of the Spirit. Therefore, let us help them, and make commemoration in their behalf. For if Job’s sacrifice purified his children, why do you doubt that the departed receive comfort when we too offer sacrifice for them? God is wont to give graces to some on behalf of others. And this Paul also showed, saying _that for this gift obtained for us, by the means of many persons, thanks may be given by many in our behalf_. Let us not weary of helping the departed, both by offering sacrifice and claiming intercession for them. For the sacrifice which saves the whole world is before us. Therefore we pray confidently at it for what concerns the world, and we name them with martyrs, and confessors, and pontiffs. For we are all one body, even if certain members be more resplendent than others; and everywhere we may be gaining forgiveness for them, by prayers, by offerings made for them, by those who are named with them. Why, then, do you grieve and weep, when you are able to apply so great a forgiveness to him who has departed? Is it because you have become lonely, and have lost your protector? But you ought never to say this, because you have not lost God. As long as you possess Him, He will be more to you than any man, be he father, child, or near relation; for even when these were living, it was He in reality Who did everything.

The Tombs of the Martyrs. (_Homily on the Martyrs, Benedictine Edition_, t. ii., p. 667.)

The feasts of the martyrs are not according to the course of days only, but they are reckoned also by the disposition of those who celebrate them. For instance, have you imitated a martyr, have you emulated his goodness, have you pressed on in the footsteps of his ascetic life? Then, though it is not a martyr’s day, you have celebrated a martyr’s feast. For to honour a martyr is to imitate him. Just as evil-doers are feastless in the midst of feasts, so the righteous, even if there be no solemnity, have carried out one. The feast is characterised by purity of conscience. This Paul expressed clearly: _Therefore, let us keep the feast not in the old leaven of evil and wickedness, but in the unleavened bread of purity and truth_. There is, then, unleavened bread amongst the Jews, and so there is amongst us; but with them it consists of wheaten flour, with us in a pure life and in remaining spotless. Thus, he who wards off every stain keeps a feast every day, is ever celebrating a solemnity not only on the feast of the martyr or at his shrine, but also sitting at home. Every man can keep the martyr’s feast by himself. In saying this I do not mean that we should _not_ go to the tombs of the martyrs. I mean that, being there, we should frequent these places with befitting devotion, not only on their days, but that we should show the same piety out of their days. Who would not revere this gathering of ours to-day, this splendid sight, the fervent charity and glowing spirit, the boundless love, which are here manifested? Nearly all the city has been eager to come; fear of his master has not withheld the servant; no straits of poverty, no feebleness of age, have kept the poor or the old away; no tenderness of sex in women, no extreme of luxury has hindered the rich, no folly of power the ruler. But a longing for the martyrs vanquishing all such disparity, both the weakness of nature and the stress of poverty hold together by one bond the vast multitude gathered here, who are moved by the wings of this desire to live the life of the heavenly citizens. For, treading under foot all allurements to excess and wickedness, you are consumed with longing for the martyrs. As with the dawn of day wild animals flee away and take shelter in their own holes, so when the light of the martyrs bursts upon our minds all diseases are put to flight and the bright flame of mortification is enkindled. And let us keep this fire alive not now only, but always, when this spiritual spectacle has been broken up; let us retire to our own homes with the same fervour, not giving ourselves up to taverns, or dissoluteness, or drunkenness, or feastings. You have made night into day through these sacred vigils: do not again make day into night through inebriation, and gluttony, and meretricious songs. You have honoured the martyrs by your presence, your attention, and your fervour: honour them by going modestly home, lest anyone seeing you taking your ease in a low place should say that you came not on account of the martyrs, but to increase your passion and to incite your bad desires. This I say, prohibiting not feasting but sin, prohibiting not wine but drunkenness. It is not the wine which is evil, it is intemperance. Wine is the gift of God, intemperance is the devil’s invention.... Intemperance is ever an evil, beloved brethren, and most of all on the feast day of the martyrs. Together with the sin, it is a most open contempt and folly and putting aside of the divine words; hence the chastisement would be double. If, therefore, you have come to the martyrs and mean afterwards to drink, you had better remain at home and not shame nor insult the martyrs’ feast, nor scandalise your neighbour, nor distort your understanding, nor add to your sins. You came to look upon men who were racked with torments, covered with blood, and adorned with wounds, who gave up this present life and took their flight to the life above. Show yourself worthy of those wrestlers. _They_ despised life, do _you_ despise luxury; they renounced their life in this world, do you renounce the craving for drink. Do you wish for feasting? Remain by the martyr’s tomb, weep there a fountain of tears, grieve in your mind, take a blessing from that tomb. Let it assist you in your prayers; make the account of his fight your constant reading; embrace the coffin; nail yourself to the shrine. Not only the bones of the martyrs, but their tombs also and their coffins, produce an abundant blessing. Take holy oil and sign your whole body with it, your tongue, your lips, your throat and eyes, and you will avoid the abyss of drunkenness.

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The Bodies of the Martyrs. (_Homily on the Martyrs, Benedictine Edition_, t. ii., p. 650.)

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Yesterday was the martyrs’ feast, and so is to-day. Would that we could be always keeping the feast of the martyrs! For if those who are mad after theatres, and who gape open-mouthed at horses racing, cannot have enough of those foolish spectacles, how much more should we be insatiable for the feasts of the saints. In the one place there is a diabolical pomp, in the other a Christian feast: in the one place devils are revelling, in the other angelic choirs are singing: in the one place souls are lost, in the other there is salvation for all who are gathered together. Do not theatres offer any pleasure at all? If they do, not such as the other. What pleasure, indeed, is there in seeing horses running senselessly to and fro? In the other case, you see, not brute animals yoked together, but countless chariots of martyrs, and God as charioteer in the midst of them, leading the way to heaven. Listen to the prophet saying that the souls of the saints are God’s chariot: _God’s chariots are ten thousand fold, and thousands those who rejoice_. That which He has made a gift to the powers above, He has granted to our nature also. He sits upon the cherubim, as the psalm says: _He ascended upon the cherubim, and He flew_; and again: _He who sitteth upon the cherubim and looketh into the abysses_. This He has given to us also. He sits on them, He dwells in us. _I will abide in you and will walk in you_, He says. They have become His chariot, let us become His temple. See you how these honours are akin? See you how He has reconciled the things above and the things below? Therefore, if we choose, we are in nothing removed from the angels! As I began by saying, yesterday was the martyrs’ feast, and to-day is the martyrs’ feast: not the martyrs who are amongst us here, but those who are in the country, or rather, they also are with us. Town and country, in the business of this life, are distinct from each other, but as far as piety is concerned, they meet on the same ground. Tell me not, then, that they have the tongue of barbarians: look rather at their mortified minds. How does unity of language serve me where the spirit is not one? How does a different speech hurt me where there is harmony in the things of faith? According to this reasoning, the country is in no sort of way worse off than the town: they enjoy equality of privileges in the head and chief of good things. So it was that Our Lord Jesus Christ did not confine Himself to cities, and leave country places empty and deserted, but He went about through cities and villages, preaching the Gospel, and curing every sickness and disease.... This is why God sowed martyrs not in cities alone, but in the country too, so that we may use their feasts as a necessary opportunity of meeting each other, and oftener in the country than in the city. For God gave the greater honour to the inferior, as this member is weaker, and therefore enjoyed more attention. Dwellers in towns always have the benefit of teaching at their command, but not so those who live in remote places. God, therefore, comforting the poverty of the teachers in the fruitfulness of the martyrs, has ordained that the greater number should be buried in the country. They have not always the voice of teachers, but the voice of the martyr speaking to them from his tomb, and with more force. And that you may know that the martyrs speak more powerfully in their silence than we by our voice, it has often happened that many have discoursed to multitudes concerning goodness, and have effected nothing; whilst others, who said no word, have done wonders through the shining example of their life. Much more have the martyrs effected this, not raising the voice of their body, but the voice of their deeds, which is far louder than the voice of the mouth. Through this voice they speak to everyone of the human race in these words: ‘Look at us, and see what evils we have endured. What have we suffered in being condemned to death, and finding eternal life? We have been made worthy to lay down our bodies for Christ. If we had not offered them up then for Christ, in a little while we should have been obliged to put off this temporary life of theirs in spite of ourselves.[25] If martyrdom had not come upon us, the common death of nature would have dissolved our bodies. On this account we give thanks to God without ceasing for making us worthy to use inevitable death for the salvation of our souls, and for receiving as a gift from us, and with the greatest honour, that which was a matter of necessity. Are the torments oppressive and painful? If they are, they pass away in a moment of time, whilst the refreshment lasts during eternal ages. Nor are the torments painful even for one moment to those who have their eyes on what is to come, and who gaze intently upon the Judge. Because blessed Stephen saw Christ with the eyes of faith, he was not conscious of the volley of stones, but instead of the stones he was counting the rewards and crowns. So do you rise above present things to the contemplation of the future, and you will be insensible to even a brief consciousness of pain. This and much more is what the martyrs say, and they are far more persuasive than we are. For if I tell you that torment is not torment, my words are not to be trusted, for there is no difficulty about talking wisely. But the martyr, who speaks by his deeds, cannot be gainsaid. And, as with ordinary baths, when they are bubbling over with hot water, no one has the courage to jump in, as long as those who are sitting by the bath invite each other to enter by word only, they induce nobody to try. But as soon as one of them puts in either his hand or his foot, and, encouraged by the attempt, plunges in his whole body, by his silence he persuades those outside, more than the others by all they say, to try the bath; and so it is with the martyrs. In their case we have the stake instead of the bath. Those outside, by all their talk, do not carry much weight; yet, if a single martyr plunge in, not his foot nor his hand alone, but his whole body, he offers by his action something more forcible than any advice or preaching, and he stops the anxiety of those standing round. See you how the voice of the martyr is more powerful even in its silence? This is why God has left us their bodies. This is why, victorious of old, they have not yet risen. Combats, indeed, they endured not long ago, but they have not yet enjoyed the resurrection, and this for your greater benefit, that you, pondering that fight of theirs, may be incited to carry out your own race. They do not suffer in the least from the delay, whilst _your_ profit is immense. After these things they will receive their reward, even if they do not now. If God were to take them away from us at this present time, He would cut off much strength and consolation; because true strength and consolation come to all men from the tombs of the saints, and you are witnesses of what I say. For often when we have used threats, kindness, tears, and exhortations, you were not moved to fervour in prayer, but going to the shrine, without any sermon, and merely seeing the tombs of the saints, you shed a fountain of tears, and warmed to your prayer although the martyr is lying there voiceless in a deep silence. Whence, then, comes the good to the conscience, which opens, as it were, the floodgates of tears? It is the sight of the martyr and the remembrance of all his good deeds. Just as when the poor see other men who are rich and in high offices attended by body-guards, and enjoying great honour from the king, learn to feel their poverty more keenly in the prosperity of others, so is it with us when we call to mind the fortitude which the martyrs showed towards God, the King of all their shining example and their glory, and remember our own sins. Their abundance makes our grief and sorrow at our poverty more poignant, and this consciousness shows us how far we are left behind them: hence come our tears. Again, God left us their bodies, so that whenever the pressure of earthly business and cares should shroud our minds in darkness,—for private and public affairs are full of this,—we should leave our house, go out of the city, bid farewell to these harassing thoughts, and seek out the shrine. We may enjoy the spiritual atmosphere there, forget our business, feed on peace, have the companionship of the saints, pray to Him Who is their judge for our own salvation, pour forth many supplications, and through all these means, lightening our conscience, may return home in much sweetness of spirit. The biers of the martyrs are nothing else than secure harbours, the sources of spiritual streams, inexhaustible treasures of wealth which are never consumed. And just as harbours receive vessels which have been much tossed by the waves, and place them in safety, so the biers of the martyrs receiving these spirits of ours, which are absorbed by the cares of life, establish them in great peace and security. Just as streams of cold water revive failing and scorched bodies, so do those resting-places calm souls which are burnt up with foul passions. The mere sight of them quenches evil cupidity, and wasting envy, and burning desires, and any other trouble of the same kind, and they are superior to treasures of great wealth. For treasures of money present many dangers to those who find them, and when divided into many parts become less in the distribution. Here there is nothing of this sort, for the attainment is without dangers. Contrary to what happens in material treasures, this division does not diminish _this_ treasure. The former, as I said, are lessened by being divided. Now, when these are distributed amongst many, then it is that they most of all show what their riches are. For such is the nature of spiritual things that they are increased by distribution, and become greater by division. Meadows with their sight of roses and violets are not so delightful as the tombs of the martyrs which offer to souls who gaze upon them an indestructible and undying delight.

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The Tombs of the Servants. (Οἱ τάφοι τῶν δοὺλων.) (_Homilies on Second Epistle to Corinthians_, xxvi., vol. iii., p. 273.)

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Thus God has led all the saints through tribulation and distress, helping them on the one hand whilst securing the rest against conceiving an unduly high opinion of their merits. Thus it was in the beginning that idolatries prevailed by the excessive admiration lavished upon men, and in this way the Roman Senate decreed Alexander to be the thirteenth god. For it had this authority of electing and making gods. When the whole work of Christ became known the provincial ruler sent to enquire whether they thought He too should be a god. They would not agree to that, and were impatient and angry that the power of the Crucified, bursting forth before their vote and decree, had attracted the whole world to its own majesty. This was ordained even against their will, so that the divinity of Christ might not be preached by vote of man, and that He should not be looked upon as one of the many decreed by them to be divine. For they made pugilists gods, and the creatures of Hadrian’s infamous lust, whence, too, the city of Antinoos derives its name. For, since death bears witness against mortal nature, the devil lighted upon another way—the immortality of the soul, to which he joined gross flattery, and led many into impiety. What malice! Whenever _we_ bring forward this argument in its proper place, he destroys it; but when he wishes to make an injurious use of it himself, he sets it up most zealously. If anyone should ask, ‘How is Alexander a god? Did he not die and die miserably?’ He answers, ‘But his spirit is immortal’. Then you think over in your mind the argument for immortality, and play the philosopher in order that you may turn men away from the God of all; but when _we_ say that this is the greatest gift of God, you persuade those whom you cheat that we are low-minded and cringing, and nothing better than unreasoning animals. And if we were to say that the Crucified lives, they would indulge in great laughter at us, although the whole universe is crying out that He does live, and did cry out of old, then by signs, now by converts, for these successes do not belong to a dead man; but if some one declares that Alexander lives, you believe him, although he has no wonder whatever to bring forward in proof of it. ‘Yes, he has,’ you reply; ‘in his lifetime Alexander did many and great deeds, for he subdued peoples and cities, and made many victorious wars, and set up trophies.’ Now, if I am able to show you things which neither Alexander nor any other man of his day contemplated in his lifetime, what further proof of the resurrection do you require? That a living man, being a king, and having an army, should carry out wars and victories is neither astonishing nor wonderful; but to do things so great after crucifixion and the tomb, to do them over land and sea, this is truly awe-inspiring, and proclaims divine and infinite power. After his death Alexander did not hinder his empire from dissolution, and when it had disappeared did not bring it back again. How should a dead man do this? Now, Christ set up His kingdom in dying. And why do I speak of Christ, since He gave to His disciples also to become famous after death? Tell me, where is Alexander’s tomb? Show it to me and say what day he died. But the tombs of Christ’s servants are famous; they have taken possession of the most royal city, and their days are solemnly kept as a feast for the world. Whilst the one is unknown amongst his own countrymen, even barbarians are familiar with the other. And the tombs of the servants of the Crucified are more splendid than the courts of kings, not in the greatness and beauty of the monument, though in this, too, they are remarkable, but, what is far more, through the devotion of those who frequent them. And he who is clothed in the royal purple leaves his throne to embrace those tombs, and, putting off the garb of vanity, stands as a suppliant of the saints in order to make them his intercessors with God, and the crowned king has need of a dead tent-maker and a fisherman as patrons. I ask you, would you dare to call the Lord of these a dead man, Whose servants, though no longer here, are the protectors of the kings of the earth? And you may see this happening not in Rome alone, but also in Constantinople. For here, too, the son thought his father, Constantine the Great, most highly honoured if he might be buried in the vestibule of the Fisherman. What door-keepers in palaces are to kings, this kings are at the tombs of fishermen. The fishermen, like lords of the spot, have taken possession of what is within; the kings, like sojourners and neighbours, have been contented to have a separate place in the doorway, thus proving to unbelievers that pre-eminence in the resurrection will belong to fishermen. For if it be so here in the matter of tombs, how much more in the resurrection. And the order is reversed: kings become servants and subjects, whilst subjects are invested with regal dignity, or rather with something even greater. The truth itself shows that there is no flattery in the matter, for kings have become famous through these subjects of theirs. Their tombs are far more awe-inspiring than those of all kings put together; there is great solitude in the one and a great crowd at the other. If you wish to compare these tombs with royal courts, here again they carry off the palm. Many are the bustling people at the court, but at the tomb many are they who call and attract rich and poor, men and women, slaves and freemen. There is great fear at the one, and an unspeakable delight at the other. But it is a pleasant sight to look upon the king with his golden sceptre and his crown on his head, his guards standing near, and princes, and generals, and commanders, and officers high and low. Yet the spectacle presented by the other is so much more magnificent and ineffable, that, compared to it, the court would seem to be a puppet show and child’s play. You have hardly crossed the threshold when the place carries your mind up to heaven, to the King above, to the army of the angels, to the throne of the Most High, to glory unspeakable. At court it falls to the ruler’s part to release one man and to put another in chains; now, the bones of the saints have not this poor and miserable authority, but a power far greater. For they call forth demons and torture them, and release from their sharpest chains those who are bound. What is more awful than this tribunal? Whilst no one is seen and no one appears by the devil’s side, there are voices and convulsions, and blows and torments, and angry tongues, the devil not bearing that wonderful power. And they who carry those bodies have dominion over bodiless spirits: dust, and bones, and ashes, tear those invisible beings into pieces. So it is that no man would ever go a long journey to see royal palaces, whilst many kings have often travelled far for this spectacle. For the testimony of the saints furnishes a likeness and a symbol of the judgment to come, devils are punished, men are chastised and set free. See you the power of the saints even when they are dead, and the weakness of sinners even whilst living? Fly therefore from evil, that you may have dominion over these, and pursue goodness with all zeal. For, if things so wonderful take place here, judge what it will be like hereafter.

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