Treatise on the Love of GodBook IV. The decay and ruin of charity

Wit map loge the Love of ©on, go long as we are in ae this Life. — ‘T AM not here addressing those rare and exceptional souls whom God so specially sustains in His Love that they are in no danger of falling away, but rather ordinary mortal men, to whom the Holy. Spirit speaks in words of warning: “Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall ;”¹ “Hold that fast which thou hast ;”? “Give diligence to make your calling and election sure.”3 And He puts into their mouths such prayers as “Cast me not away from Thy Presence, and take not Thy Holy Spirit from me ;’4 “Lead us not into temptation,’> in order that they may “work out their own salvation with fear and trembling,”® knowing that they are not more unchangeably safe against losing God’s Love, than were the fallen angels or Judas, who having received, lost it and themselves; or than Solomon, of whom, having “once forsaken it, we know not whether he be saved or lost; or than Adam, Eve, David, or Peter, who being sons of salvation yet fell away for a time from that love without which there is no salvation. Alas! who shall presume to say that he will hold fast through the voyage of life, when so many worthier than he have come to shipwreck?

Perhaps you will reply by asking how it is possible for any soul that possesses the love of God to lose it, since where love is, surely there sin will be resisted? “Love is strong as death, hard as hell :”⁶ how then can the powers of death or hell, which are sin, conquer love which is strong as they, and more powerful in right and Divine might? How can a reasonable soul which has once tasted the boundless sweetness of Divine Love voluntarily quaff the bitter waters of sin? Even a babe, brought up on milk and honey, will turn with disgust and tears from wormwood or camomile; how then can the soul which has experienced the Goodness of the Creator, turn from it towards the misery of creature things?

The very heavens are “astonished and horribly afraid,”? and the “ambassadors of peace weep bitterly”3 at the sight of this strange weakness of human nature, which forsakes what is so precious for that which is worthless. But did you ever watch a certain little mystery in common things, which to many is incomprehensible? I mean how, when a full cask is opened, the wine will not flow until some air is let in from above; which is not the case with a cask not perfectly full, out of which the wine flows directly that it is opened. Now verily in this mortal life, although our souls may be well filled with heavenly love, they are never so full but that it may escape through temptation. But in Heaven, where the Beauty and Goodness of God will wholly engross and absorb the will so that it is utterly full, nothing will ever be able to cause one single drop of its Divine contents to flow out. Nor were it possible to let in the smallest draught, i.e. to surprise that will, for it is fixed in the Will of

Thus wine which is separated from its lees may be warranted not to ferment, but so long as it is on the lees it is liable thereto. And while we are in this life we are subject to the hindrance of many evil tempers and faults, and consequently liable to be drawn away from our highest love. But in Heaven, where we shall come to the feast described by the Prophet Isaiah, whereof the “wines on the lees are well refined,”? we shall no longer be liable to change, but inseparably united to our Sovereign Good. Here, amid these earthly shadows, we fear to mistake some unreality for the Bridegroom; but when we find Him in Heaven, resting in His noontide Glory,” there will be no more mistake. His Light will be too bright, and we too close to His Love, ever to wander more.

We shall be like coral, which while in its native ocean is as a pliable plant, but once taken out, it becomes as stone, and its pale tints grow rosy red. So we in this our native earth are beset with changes and chances, God’s Love sustaining us, earthly love tempting us. But once go forth from this life, and the pale tint of fearful hope will change to the rosy brightness of unchangeable joy; we can never falter more, but shall be for ever fixed in the strength of Eternal Love.

It is impossible to see God and not love Him. But here below, where we only see Him by faith, “as through a glass darkly,”3 many other objects intrude, and, like “the little foxes, spoil our vines.”4 In a word, possessing love, our free-will is clothed with the wedding garment, which it may always retain if it persevere in well doing, or which it may lay aside through sin.

* Isa. xxv. 6. * Cant. i. 7.

3 1 Cor. xiii. 12. 4 Cant. ii. 15.

Sometimes our vital energies forsake certain members of the body, which consequently become powerless and torpid, yet so long as the heart fails not, life will endure. Even so love may be so spent and exhausted in the heart as scarce to give any token, and yet reign supreme in the higher being. This is chiefly when a multitude of venial sins smother the fire of love, although it is not actually extinguished. For just as the diamond hinders the magnet from attracting iron, but the attraction is renewed directly you remove the diamond; so venial sin, while it does not altogether destroy love, yet paralyses it, and renders it barren and powerless. .

Of a truth venial sin does not altogether upset the main resolution of charity, to love God above all things; but it draws us dangerously from the Creator to the creature, and leads us to linger too much about earthly things, although we do not altogether forsake those which are heavenly. It hinders without wholly turning -aside, and creature love will never be destroyed by it. ‘God rebuked the Bishop of Ephesus for having “left his first love.”¹ It is not said that he was loveless, but ‘only that his love was no longer what it had been, ready, fervent, effectual; just as we say of any one that he is not what he once was,—from cheerful, vigorous, and friendly, he has become dull, lazy, and cross. We do not question that materially he is the same, but his ways and doings are changed. And our Lord has said that in the latter days “the love of many shall wax cold,”? i.e. it shall not be bold and daring, because the heart is fearful and trembling. Truly, “when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin ;”3 but sin does not always “bring forth death,’—only when, as: the Apostle says, it is “finished,” which exactly defines the difference between venial and mortal sin.

Nevertheless venial sin is sin, and consequently opposed to love, in that it is contrary to the actions and progress, and even to the intention of love, which is that all our acts should be referred to God, whereas venial sin refers them elsewhere, forgetting God and His Will. When a tree has been battered by the storm, we say there is nothing left, meaning that no fruit is left, though the tree be there; and so when love is shattered by venial sin, it suffers inasmuch as it is deprived of works, which are its fruits. Cleaving to sin led to “holding the truth in unrighteousness” among the heathen, so that “when they knew God, they glorified Him not as God.”' Their natural light was not extinguished, but became unfruitful. So venial sin does not extirpate love, but binds it hand and foot like a slave. Such sins bind us overmuch to the enjoyment of the creature, and deprive us of that familiarity with God which real love promotes. And so we lose that inward help which is as the vital force’ of the soul, and a spiritual paralysis ensues, which, if not cured, will end in death. For charity is a living principle which cannot be long inactive and live. The Fathers have likened it to Rachel, crying out, “Give me children, or else I die.”? ' are seldom without temptation in this life. And those who are slothful, and addicted to self-pleasing, let fall their arms, and do not keep watch over charity; so that they are easily surprised, and fall into mortal sin, for which venial sins pave the way. Therein like to him of old who, carrying a calf day by day, went on till he was amazed to find that the creature had become an ox, while he perceived not its growth. So he who yields to his evil passions in trifles is led on; the irritable man becomes furious, the exaggerator a liar. And as we say of one who is very weak that

* Rom, i, 18-21. 2 Gen, xxx. 1.

a there is no life in him, because it is so frail, in like manner we may say of those slothful souls which are given up. to earthly things that they have no love, since what little they have seems about to melt away.

The process by which we forsake God for His creature is this: We do not love God unremittingly, all the rather that in this mortal life charity is a matter of habit, which, as philosophers say, we use at pleasure, and never against our will. So when we do not exercise that habit, when we let ourselves be distracted from the practice of Divine Love, or are slothful or negligent therein, then we are liable to the assaults of evil, and are easily surprised by temptation. And albeit the habit of charity abide in us, and fulfil its office in prompting us to reject evil suggestions, yet it will only urge us to resistance in proportion as we second it, as is the way with most habits. So that being altogether free, and the unlawful object having a strong hold upon the heart, we cling to it by an excessive complacence, which grows until it is very hard to shake off, and is like those thorns of which our Lord spoke which choke the good seed of grace and heavenly love. It was thus with our first mother Eve, whose fall began by trifling with the Serpent, being amused by his promises of enlightenment, and by gazing on the forbidden fruit; so that complacence growing into amusement, and that in its turn feeding complacence, she became so entangled that she fell into grievous sin, and led Adam into the same.

You have watched a pigeon circling in the air, displaying the beauty of its plumage, and the hawk taking advantage of its vanity to swoop upon it, which would not happen if the pigeon flew straight on. Even so, if we did not trifle with the vanity of earthly pleasure, but, inspired by charity, were content to fly straight on where it directs, we should never be the victims of evil suggestions or temptations. But forasmuch as, seduced by self-conceit, we are absorbed by self and by creature love, we are taken by surprise, and captured by the ever-watchful enemy. God does not shield us from all temptation in order that our love may be strengthened by resistance, and so fighting may be victorious and triumphant. But we are apt to receive temptation complacently, because our natural inclination to what is good lays us open to the snares of whatever has a fair appearance, and temptation is very prone to come disguised with some such bait. It may be what the world calls honour, tempting us with “the pride of life;” or some sensual attraction, leading to the “lust of the flesh ;” or some worldly gain, inducing the “lust of the eyes.” But if our faith, which is able to distinguish between real and unreal good, was kept on the alert, it would be a safe sentinel to charity, and would give speedy notice when evil comes under the semblance of good, so that charity might repulse it vigorously. But because our faith is apt to slumber, or at least to grow inattentive, we are surprised by temptation, which seduces our senses, and they kindle the lower being to rebellion, and then too often the superior being yields, and, falling into sin, loses charity.

This was the course of Absalom’s rebellion against his father David: putting forward what seemed rightful propositions until he had deluded the Israelites thoroughly, and they were then easily led on to rebellion, until David was constrained to leave Jerusalem weeping, leaving no one of weight behind, save Zadok and Abiathar the priests. Now Zadok was a seer, or prophet.”

Just so self-love takes advantage of our inattentive or slumbering faith, and allures us with fair-seeming but empty hopes, seduces our senses and imagination, and so forces our free-will that at length we are led on to active rebellion against the holy Love of God, which then, like David, goes forth with all its followers, i.e. with the gifts of the Holy Spirit, the inseparable companions of love, and nought of weight remains in the Jerusalem of the soul save Zadok the seer—that is to say, the gift of faith, which is able to show us things eternal—and Abiathar, i.e. the gift of hope, both dejected and downcast, yet upholding the ark of the covenant in us, i.e. the quality and title of Christian acquired in baptism.

What a grievous sight to the Angels of peace when they see the Holy Spirit and His Love go forth from our sin-stricken souls! Verily I believe that could they weep they would shed many tears, and join with the lamentation of Jeremiah when, sitting on the threshold of the deserted temple, he gazed upon the ruins of the Holy City: “How doth the city sit solitary that was full of people! . . . from the daughter of Zion all her beauty is departed !”³

That love of God which moves us to indifference to self makes us citizens of the Heavenly Jerusalem; that love of self which renders us indifferent to God makes us slaves of Babylon. Now the steps by which we arrive at this neglect of God are very gradual; but no sooner is it reached, than in one moment holy charity leaves us, or, more accurately speaking, it dies out. Yes, verily; for in such neglect it is that mortal sin consists, and one mortal sin drives out charity from the soul, because it breaks the bond of union between the soul and God, which is obedience and submission to His Will. And just as the human heart cannot be divided and live, so charity, which is the heart of the soul and the soul of the heart, cannot ever be wounded and not killed; just as it is said that the pearl, being formed of heavenly dew, is destroyed if the tiniest drop of sea-water penetrates its shell. Man’s life is extinguished—not gradually, but at once—when any injury affects a vital part of the body; and thus when the heart is so vitally injured by passion that charity ceases to reign therein, it departs, since so noble is its nature, that it cannot cease to reign without ceasing to exist.

Those habits which we form in mere human matter: are not overthrown by a single contradictory act. No one would say that one fit of intemperance made an intemperate man, or that a painter was no artist because some one work was a failure. All such habits are formed by continuity of action, and are lost by the like. But charity, which is “spread in our hearts” in one moment by the Holy Ghost, when we possess the requisite qualification, is taken away as instantaneously when, turning from that obedience of will which we owe to God, we consent to the rebellion and disloyalty which tempts us.

It is true that charity goes on increasing and being perfected according as by good works and duly received Sacraments we make room for it; yet it does not in like manner gradually dwindle, for we cannot lose any without losing all. And herein it reminds me of that famous ivory statue of Minerva wrought in Athens by Phidias, on the buckles of which, amid the battles of giants and Amazons, the sculptor introduced his own likeness so skilfully, that Aristotle tells us it was impossible to deface that ever so little without totally destroying the whole statue. Even so, although God’s Holy Spirit leads the soul on to ever higher degrees of that love which He has planted in it, yet inasmuch as the resolution to put God’s Will before all else is the essential of holy love, that which creates the very likeness of the Divine Sculptor, if it be touched, charity falls at once shattered.

This preference of God above all else is the darling child of love. And if the Egyptian Hagar could not bear to see her child perish, but “went a good way off,” who can wonder if Charity Divine cannot bear to see the death of her child, i.e. a firm resolution never to offend God? So that as man’s free-will consents deliberately to sin, thereby slaying this holy resolve, charity dies too, crying out with Hagar, “Let me not see the death of the child!” There is a precious stone called grassius which grows dim in the presence of any poison; and in likewise the soul loses its brightness and beauty at the approach of any of those sins whereof it is written, “The soul that sinneth, it shall die,”?

Just as it were a bold impiety to attribute those fruits of Divine Love which the Holy Spirit works in us to the innate powers of our own will, so were it no less impious to attribute our graceless failure in love to any shortcomings of God’s Goodness or Help. “O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself !”3 Our Lord came to send the fire of Divine Love upon earth; He prepared a light to lighten all men.¹ He is “not willing that any should perish,”5 but that all should “come unto the knowledge of the truth.” He came into the world “that we might receive the adoption of sons,”? and the Wise Man expressly bids us, “Say not thou, It is through the Lord that I fell away.”⁶ So the Council of Trent teaches that Divine Grace is never wanting to those who do their best, seeking God’s Help; that God never forsakes those whom He has justified, unless they forsake Him; so that unless they reject grace, they are certain of glory. ,

In S. John’s words, Christ is “the true Light, Which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.”3

It fell out one summer’s day that a number of travellers, weary with their journey, fell asleep beneath the shadow of a tree; and while they slept the sun, rising higher, fell in all the power of noon upon their eyelids, and roused them. Then certain of the travellers rising up, went forward and accomplished their journey; but others there were who merely turned their backs to the sun, and pulled their hats over their eyes, sleeping on till, being over-taken by night, they wandered helpless, the prey of forest wolves. Now tell me, did not those who arrived happily at. the end of their journey owe their welfare to the sun, or, to speak as Christians, to the sun’s Creator? Surely, for they had not waked save through its light and warmth. Truly they did not resist that light when it stole into their eyes, or that warmth which roused them from sleep. On the other hand, those wanderers in the wood, had they any right to cry out that it was the sun’s fault that they too were not safe at their journey’s end? Who but would answer that the sun had done alike for all, the same light and warmth touched them all; but these last refused to yield to the sun’s influence, while their comrades obeyed its summons.

Well now, all men are as travellers in this life, and for the most part we voluntarily fall into the sleep of sin; then God, the true Sun of Righteousness, sheds the bright rays of His Blessings and inspirations upon us, and why do they not attract us more and more frequently? Surely they who are awakened and follow that leading have every reason for thankfulness, but not for vainglory. They may rejoice, indeed, because they possess so great a gift, but they may not glory therein, because it is the free gift of God, Who claims the glory while He gives them the enjoyment thereof. But as to those who sleep on in the sleep of sin, well indeed may they weep and lament, but they have no right to complain save of themselves for having despised and rejected light and resisted inspiration, so that whatever evil or destruction comes upon them, they have wrought it themselves.

It is recorded that when the Japanese complained to their Apostle S. Francis Xavier that God, while doing so much for other nations, had forgotten their ancestors, not having revealed Himself to them; the Saint replied that God’s natural law was so firmly implanted in every heart, that if their ancestors had but heeded it they would have been enlightened, but that neglecting it was at their own peril. Which reply was altogether in the same spirit as that of S. Paul when he says of the Gentiles that “they were without excuse, because that when they knew God they glorified Him not as God.”⁸ Woe indeed to those who will not acknowledge that their misfortune arises from their own fault!

Man’s love of God derives its origin, increase, and perfection from God’s Eternal Love to man. This is the universal teaching of the Church, which jealously sets before us that our salvation, and all means thereto, come of the sole Mercy of the Redeemer; so that all honour and glory are due to Him Alone in Heaven or earth. “What hast thou that thou didst not receive?” S. Paul asks, speaking of the gifts of wisdom, eloquence, and the like; “now if thou didst receive it, why dost thou glory, as if thou hadst not received it?”' Truly we have received all things of God, and still more than all else the supernatural gifts of holy love. And if we have received them, why should we take any self-glorification from them?

Surely if any one were to boast because he had made some advance in the love of God, we should remind him that he would have grovelled in sin, without energy or strength to come forth, had not God in His Mercy helped him, saying, “Open thy mouth wide, and I shall fill it,’ pouring in His gracious inspirations, and strengthening His feeble servant till he should attain to the living power of love. How then, frail man, darest thou boast thyself? Thou didst consent; thy free-will followed the Heavenly leading. But what more is this than receiving Divine Grace without resistance? And the very power to receive, the very consent of which ye boast, were both God’s gift. Had God not prepared thee, thou hadst not appreciated His Goodness, nor consented to His Love,—thou hadst not had one good thought. He gave life and action to thine heart, and unless His Generosity had kindled and stimulated thy free-will, it had profited thee nothing. Verily, in consenting thou didst co-operate with His Grace; but know that that co-operation was conceived of grace as well as of thy free-will, and that but for grace preparing and filling thy heart, thou hadst had neither power nor will so to co-operate.

Were it not monstrous, O wretched man, for thee to claim any glory in thy own conversion because thou hast not rejected inspiration? It is as though arobber or a despot boasted that he had given life to those from whom he refrained to take it; and to imagine that thou hast given effect and life to God’s inspirations because thou hast not positively resisted them, is no less monstrous and impious. We may hinder inspiration, but we cannot get it for ourselves; it derives all its power and virtue from God’s Goodness, which is its source; not from man’s will, which is its object. That princess of whom I spoke, had she boasted of the virtue of the cordial which restored her as her own, we should have rebuked her. She might truly have refused to swallow the remedy, but she contributed nothing to the efficacy of what was offered her. She did but consent to receive it; nor would she have done even that unless the king had invited her to do so; nor would she have swallowed it unless he had poured it into her mouth. Were it not, then, the height of ingratitude to assume to herself any credit for that which she owed solely to her bridegroom?

The little fish called Remora has the faculty of stopping a ship at full sail, but it has no power to set it in motion. It can hinder movement, but cannot impart it. Our free-will can hinder or stop the course of inspiration, and when the favouring breeze of grace fills our sails we can refuse our consent; but when our ship rides the waves prosperously, it is not that we raise the favouring breeze, or give the impulse, but merely that we receive Heaven’s prospering gale, consent to its action, and let ourselves advance without resistance. It is God’s inspiration which brings to bear that happy influence upon our free-will by which it both perceives the beauty of holiness, and is kindled, encouraged, and stimulated, so as to turn with pleasure to that which is good. —

Heaven makes ready the sweet spring dew, and the mother-of-pearl open their shells, and receiving its drops, they become pearls; but those shells which remain closed do not prevent the dewdrops from falling on them but only in them, Heaven sending its precious dews to both alike. Wherefore, then, has one produced its pearl, and not the other? Heaven was as generous to the barren shell, but it refused Heaven’s gift, remaining closed. And the shell which bore the pearl has nought save what it received. Even its power to open and receive that sweet dew was given by the soft warm sun-rays which attracted it to the surface. If then we possess any love for God, to Him be all the glory and honour Who has kindled it in us, for without Him it had not been; ours be the profit and the duty. Even so does He order things: He gives us the fruit of His gifts, and takes the glory and praise to Himself; and verily, since we are all nought save by His Grace, it beseems us to be nought save for His Glory.

The mind of man is so weak, that when he seeks too curiously to pry into the causes and reasons of God’s Will, he entangles himself in a network of difficulties whence he cannot extricate himself. Like smoke, rising he becomes subtilised, and so is dispersed. By dint of striving inquisitively to penetrate Divine mysteries men “become vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart darkened; professing themselves to be wise, they become fools.”¹ Above all, this applies to what concerns God’s Providence in the variety of means by which He draws us to His Holy Love, and so to eternal glory. Our presumption continually leads us to inquire why God gives more means of grace to some than to others; why He did not do those wonders in Tyre and Simon which He worked in Chorazin and Bethsaida,? if they would have so greatly profited thereby; in short, why He draws one rather than another to His Love?

But of a truth, we should never suffer our mind to wander thus idly, or seek to find a better explanation of God’s Will than that it is His Will, which is the best of all reasons, the measure of all good, the law of all truth. And although the Holy Spirit speaking in Inspired Scriptures from time to time gives us all the explanation we can require as to His providential dealings with men with respect to His Love and their own Salvation, at the same time He repeatedly teaches us to give all due honour to His Will, adoring it first and last, without questioning His purposes, into which we have no right to intrude. Surely if men are bound so to reverence the decrees of an earthly tribunal as to believe them right and reasonable, although unable to perceive ‘their full motives, far more they are bound to adore the justice and goodness of God’s loving Providence, overruling all.

Thus continually we find the reason why God rejected the Jews set forth in Holy Scripture. SS. Paul and Barnabas declared, “Seeing ye put the Word of God from you, and judge yourselves unworthy of everlasting life, lo, we turn to the Gentiles.” And any one who will calmly study the ninth, tenth, and eleventh chapters of the Epistle to the Romans will see clearly that it was not without reason that God’s Will rejected the Jewish nation; but nevertheless man’s judgment ought not to seek to penetrate this reason, but confine itself simply to reverence for God’s decree, in admiring love for its justice and equity, and loving admiration of its incomprehensible depth. So the Apostle winds up his long discourse saying, “O the depth of the riches both of the Wisdom and Knowledge of God! how unsearchable are His Judgments, and His ways past finding out! For who hath known the Mind of the Lord? or who hath been His counsellor ?”? thereby teaching us, that while God does all things with infinite wisdom and reason, man not being admitted into His counsels, which are far above our understanding, we must accept, without seeking to understand them.

S. Augustine teaches this over and over again: “No man cometh, unless drawn. Whom He draweth, and whom draweth not, why He draweth one and draweth not another, wish not thou to judge if thou wish not to err. Once for all, take and understand. - Art thou not drawn? pray that thou mayest be drawn.”? “Surely it sufficeth to the Christian living by faith, and as yet not seeing what is perfect, but knowing in part only, to know and believe that God delivers no man from condemnation save by the free Mercy of Jesus Christ our Lord; neither condemns any save by His most just truth in the same Jesus Christ our Lord. But as for knowing why He delivereth one rather than the other, let him who may seek to fathom God’s Judgments, but let him beware of the precipice, for God’s decrees are not unjust because secret.”? “Wherefore delivereth He these rather than those? First of all, we answer, ‘Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God?’3 ‘His Judgments are unsearchable.’* And we say further, ‘Seek not out the things that are too hard for thee, neither search the things that are above thy strength;’> for He showeth not mercy to those whom, in His truth, which is far above human thought, He judgeth not worthy of His favour.”®

We have seen twins born, one whereof lived and was baptized, while the other lost its material life before receiving regeneration; thus one was an inheritor of the Kingdom of Heaven, the other not so. Wherefore did God’s Providence so order it? We can only say that God does not generally interfere with the natural course of events, and that if one child was vigorous and the other too weak to come alive into the world, He did not hinder the course of these natural events, and therefore the one child was deprived of baptism. And this answer is substantial. But as S. Paul and S. Augustine teach, we ought not * Horn. xxvi. on S. John. 2 Ep. 105. 3 Rom. ix. 20. “Rom. xi. 33. 5 Ecclus. iii. 21. 6 “De Bono Persev.” to trifle with such speculations, knowing that God hides from us reasons which He will make known hereafter. “Then,” says S. Augustine, “it will no longer be a secret why one rather than another was chosen, both seeming alike in position, nor why miracles were not displayed to those who, seeing them, would have repented in sackcloth and ashes, but to those who would not believe.” And elsewhere: “It is neither possible to understand nor lawful to inquire why He withholds one and not another. Enough to know that it is of Him that the one standeth, and not of Him that the other falleth; beyond all is hidden from man’s understanding, at least from mine own.” . Surely this is the truest philosophy on such a subject. And I have ever greatly admired the learned modesty of S. Bonaventura in his discourse of the reason wherefore God’s Providence destines the elect to eternal life. ‘May be,” he says, “it is foreseeing the good deeds he will perform, not of himself, but through God’s Will; but as to discerning what good deeds are the motive of such grace, I neither know nor would inquire,—it is not fitting, and I were sure to err. We can neither discover the true reason or the true motive of God’s Will. For, as says S. Augustine, although the truth thereof is sure, it is far distant from us, and we can know nothing thereof save by His revelation to Whom all things are known. And since it is not profitable to our salvation that we understand such secrets, but better that we be ignorant thereof, God has not willed to reveal them; nor did even His chosen Apostle presume to investigate them, but bears witness to the shortcomings of our understanding, exclaiming, ‘O the depth of the riches of the Wisdom and Knowledge of God !”

Be it ours humbly to adore the depth of God’s

Knowledge which the Apostle fathoms not, but only worships, when he cries out thus: “O the depth of the Wisdom of God!” “Who can count the sand of the seashore or the drops of rain?” exclaims S. Gregory Nazianzen; “or who can fathom His Wisdom, by which He has created all things, and governs them according as He will? Suffice it that with the Apostle we admire, not grappling with the difficulty there.” The purposes of God’s Will cannot be fathomed by our mind until we see Him Face to face Who “‘reacheth from one end to another mightily, and doth sweetly order all things,”¹ Who “can do all things,”? Who “in wisdom has made them all.”3

How often we fail to understand mere human works, or the cunning of the artificer, which he, nevertheless, understands perfectly! Nor are such earthly works bad or ill done although we understand them not. Go into a clockmaker’s shop, and you will find a clock no bigger than an orange, yet containing one or two hundred parts, some composing the time-keeper, others the striking and alarum. You will find wheels turning this way or that, the balance movement, and springs, and you must needs marvel at the art which has been able so precisely to adapt all these works, yet all the while you do not know what each part is, or how it works, unless the artificer shows you; you are only aware generally that all have their proper place in the clock. A wild Indian will amuse himself for days together with a clock, watching for the hours to strike, and unable to imagine how it happens, yet not the less believing it to be the work of thought and skill, and reverencing those who can regulate such a machine as possessing superhuman gifts. Even so we gaze upon the universe as upon a clock composed of so many works and movements that we are fain to marvel, And while we know generally that each is designed to set forth the Power of God or the marvels of His Goodness, we yet cannot pretend to know the precise purpose of each movement, or why it is what it is, unless the Divine Artificer shows us; nor does He vouchsafe to show us this till such time as in Heaven He will open our eyes to all the marvels of His Love, and show us how all that happened here worked together for our everlasting good.

S. Gregory Nazianzen says that we are like one troubled with dizziness, who fancies that all things are turning round, when in reality it is his own brain which turns. So when we come across things inexplicable to our mind, we are apt to fancy that they happen by chance because we know not their cause. Rather let us believe that God, the Father and Maker of all, exercises His providential care over all, especially over all that happens to us and those around us, even though our life be beset with strange events which we cannot explain; so that while unable to comprehend, we may at least revere God’s surpassing Wisdom, the more that among men what is easily perceived is easily contemned, but the harder anything is to be understood, the more they are wont to admire it. Truly the dealings of God’s Providence were low indeed could our feeble minds appreciate them, and they were less lovely and less majestic if they were nearer to our level.

Therefore be it always ours to love and admire our Heavenly Father's Wisdom, and cry out with S. Paul, “O the depth of the riches both of the Wisdom and Knowledge of God!” His Love is a fathomless depth by which He has prepared us unlimited means whereby we may be saved, and His Wisdom is boundless in adapting these means to our wants. What can we fear, rather what may we not hope, being as we are the children of a Father so rich in love, so wise in foreknowledge, so Good, so farseeing in act towards us. Never must we suffer our minds to hover too curiously around His secret decrees, lest, moth-like, we singe our wings, and perish in that sacred fire. “His Judgments are unsearchable,”—or, as S. Gregory Nazianzen says, inscrutable; we cannot fathom them, or perceive how He works, and however good our intentions, we are continually at fault, and lose the track. “For who hath known the Mind of the Lord, or who hath been His counsellor?” Is it not rather He Who prevents us with all manner of blessings, in order to crown us with blessing and glory? Verily, all things are “of Him,” their Creator, “through Him,” their Ruler, “to Him,” their Sustainer, “to Whom be glory for ever. Amen.” Be it ours to journey on in holy love, assured that he who possesses it in death will rejoice therein for ever after death.

He who lies hovering between life and death, gradually sinking, can hardly be called a living man, since we scarce know whether to call his state a living death or an expiring life. Truly, it is a piteous sight; but yet more piteous is the state of that ungrateful soul which, falling continually back, and forsaking God’s Love by gradual degrees of coldness and faithlessness, at last falls into the dread darkness of eternal perdition. Now this failing, perishing love is called imperfect because, although it exists after a fashion, it is on the point of leaving the soul. Yet when sin has severed love from the soul, a certain semblance thereof sometimes lingers therein which may easily deceive us. It happens thus: Love, while in us, is wont to produce certain acts towards God by which the soul acquires an habitual tendency, which is not so much love itself, as a bent and inclination taken from constant action. Thus one who is accustomed to preach or celebrate will sometimes in dreaming say the same things he is wont to say preaching or celebrating, though all such are of course profitless, because they are mere reflections of a habit, not anything real in themselves. So charity, by force of habit, impresses us with a certain tendency to love which lingers even when the real thing is gone.

I remember when a student visiting an old well in a village near Paris in which lay an echo which repeated one’s words many times, so that one unaccustomed to such matters might have supposed there to be a man at the bottom. But we knew very well that there was no one in the well, only there were certain hollows which caught the sound of the voice and reproduced it, this again being caught in another hollow, and so on up to eleven repetitions. Yet these were not really our voices, only a likeness thereof. And verily the difference was great; for when we spoke several words, the echo repeated but one or two, it cut short the sounds which we pronounced, it varied our intonation, and only began to repeat the word when we had ended. In short, it was not the voice of a living man, but merely of a hollow rock, which nevertheless was so like to that whence it was derived, as easily to deceive one who knew not the mystery.

Now follow my meaning. When holy charity has dwelt in a soul, it produces a second love, which is not itself, albeit coming of it, but a human love so very like to charity, that it will linger after that is dead within, and easily deceive the unknowing, as Zeuxis’ grapes deceived the birds. Yet there is a wide difference, for the voice of Charity utters and effects all God’s Commandments within the heart, but this human love which survives may utter them indeed, but it effects few or none. Charity articulates every syllable,i.e. all the details of God’s Commandments; but human love leaves out more or less,—above all, a right and pure intention. And the tone of charity is ever sweet and soft; but human love is ever pitched too high or too low, and never begins its work save when Charity has ended hers. For so long as charity abides in the soul it uses this human love as its servant; but when charity is gone, and human love is left to itself, its acts are worthless. When Elisha committed his staff to Gehazi, it could perform no miracle in his absence, and so the acts of human love apart from Divine Charity are of no avail for everlasting life; and that because human love by itself has no supernatural power whereby to lead the soul to do all things for God, a power which belongs only to Divine Love.

Consider Judas after the Betrayal; how, re- , penting, he took the price of his sin back to the elders, and acknowledged the innocence of the Son of God.? This was the result of that imperfect love which previous charity had left in him. Men fall by degrees; it is seldom that any reaches the depth of evil suddenly.

The perfumer carries the scent of his wares with him beyond his shop, and those who have been near Heaven’s bliss retain the aroma awhile. Early in the morning the stag’s scent lies strong; towards evening it fails, and as it lessens so the hounds fail in their track. When charity has dwelt within a soul, its aroma is perceptible for some time after itself is gone; but gradually that dies away, and there is no more sign that charity was ever there.

I have seen men brought up from their youth in God’s ways, who, falling back, showed many traces of better things for a time, so that it was hard to say what they really were; but after a while it was plain that these traces pertained to a thing that was past, and were merely tokens of what had been. Now all such imperfect love is good in itself as the handmaid of charity, serving it while present within the soul, ready to serve should it return. It cannot perform the works of perfect love, but need not be despised therefore; the stars are beautiful in themselves, although dimmed by the sun’s light when it shines. Nevertheless this imperfect love is a danger, because we are prone to rest satisfied with it, to take the shadow for the reality, and to imagine ourselves saints, while those sins which drive out real charity are gaining such strength within us as at last to win the day.

If Jacob had never lost sight of Rachel on his wedding day, he would not have been deceived by Laban into accepting Leah instead of her. So it is that self-love deceives us. Directly that we lose sight of charity, self-love thrusts forward this other love which is mere habit, and we are satisfied with it, and take it for real charity until some strong light shows us how we have been deluded.

Sad indeed it is to see a soul flattering itself with an unreal holiness, and at rest as though possessing charity, and then suddenly discover that its holiness is unreal, its rest a mere torpor, its happiness mere delusion!

By; how, you will say, are you to distinguish between Rachel and Leah, between charity and this imperfect love which kindles you? If on examining what are the objects of your desires, affections, and aims you find any for which you would contravene God’s Will and Pleasure by mortal sin, you may be absolutely certain that whatever good feelings or energy in His service you may seem to have, it comes solely of this imperfect love; for if perfect love ruled your heart, it would utterly reject every thought, affection, or desire which could have so baneful a tendency. Remember, however, that such examination must be of your actual affections. There is no need to imagine what may come hereafter; enough if we be faithful in present events as they occur. Each season has its own burden and strife..

If, nevertheless, you want to test your spiritual strength by foreseeing trials and struggles, it is all very well so long as you do not imagine yourself really the better for your imaginary valour. Recollect the children of Ephraim, who, in spite of what they had done in times of peace, “turned themselves back in the day of battle.”* So when you boldly foresee future possible trials, if you feel brave and stedfast, thank God, for it is a good feeling; but abide humbly between confidence and mistrust, hoping that with His Help you will be able to do all you think, but fearing lest in your wonted weakness you should fail in courage, and do nothing. Or should mistrust grow so strong that you feel you would be powerless, and are tempted to despair by such imaginary trials, then quiet yourself with a stedfast resolution to be faithful

1 Ps. lxxviii. 10.

in whatever comes first, and hope that should the trial you foresee with so much fear ever occur, God would increase His Grace so as to enable you to meet it, and that while He does not give you strength for an imaginary or unnecessary conflict, He will not fail you in the time of need. For if some have lost heart when the moment of trial came, others have lost their fear and found a courage and resolution in the presence of danger which they had never felt before it came. And some of God’s servants have frightened themselves unreasonably at the prospect of trials before which they have not quailed when actually present. When such fears arise, enough if we hope to be strengthened in time of need. Not even Samson was from the first in full possession of all his after courage; for we read that when the lion of Timnath “roared against him, the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him, and gave him strength to rend it as he would have rent a kid,” and again when he destroyed a thousand men at Lehi.¹ Whereby it is plain that we need not necessarily be always in possession of the strength and courage wanted to overcome the “roaring lion, who walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.”? Such possession might tend to foster conceit and presumption. Enough that we always stedfastly desire to fight a good fight, and heartily trust in God’s Gracious Help, promised to us in time of need.