Gold Dust
I
“My Lord!” exclaimed once a devout soul, “give me every day a little work to occupy my mind; a little suffering to sanctify my spirit; a little good to do to comfort my heart.”
II
If by our deeds we become saints, true it is, that by our deeds also we shall be condemned.
Yes, it is little by little that we press onward, either towards salvation or eternal ruin; and when at last we reach the gate of glory, or that of perdition, the cry escapes our lips, “Already!”
The first backward step is almost imperceptible; it was those tiny flakes of snow, seeming to melt as they touch the earth, but falling one upon another, that have formed that immense mass which seems ready to fall and crush us.
Ah! if I tried to trace back to what first led to that act of sin, the thought that produced the desire, the circumstance that gave rise to the thought, I should find something almost imperceptible; perhaps a word with a double entendre I had heard, and at which I had smiled; a useless explanation, sought out of mere curiosity; a hasty look, cast I knew not wherefore, and which conscience prompted me to check; a prayer neglected, because it wearied me; work left undone, while I indulged in some day-dream that flitted before my fancy....
A week later the same things occur, but this time more prolonged; the stifled voice of conscience is hushed.
Yet another week.... Alas! let us stop there; each can complete the sad story for himself, and it is easy to draw the practical conclusion.
III
A young girl, in one of those moments when the heart seems to overflow with devotion, wrote thus in her journal: “If I dared, I would ask God why I am placed in the world; what have I to do? I know not; my days are idly spent, and I do not even regret them.... If I might but do some good to myself or another, if only for the short space of a minute in each day!.” A few days later, when in a calmer mood she re-read these lines, she added, “Why, nothing is easier! I have but to give a cup of cold water to one of Christ’s little ones.”
Even less than that: a word of advice; something lent to another; a little vexation patiently borne; a prayer for a friend offered to God; the fault or thoughtlessness of another repaired without his knowledge—God will recompense it all a thousand-fold!
IV
Alms given in secret; that is the charity which brings a blessing.
What sweet enjoyment to be able to shed a little happiness around us!
What an easy and agreeable task is that of trying to render others happy.
Father! if I try to please and imitate Thee thus, wilt Thou indeed bless me? Thanks! thanks! be unto Thee.
V
Is it fair always to forget all the good or kindness shown to us by those with whom we live, for the sake of one little pain they may have caused us, and which, most likely, was quite unintentional on their part?
VI
When you sometimes find in books advice or example that you think may be of service, you take care to copy and consult it as an oracle. Do as much for the good of your soul. Engrave in your memory, and even write down, the counsels and precepts that you hear or read;... then, from time to time, study this little collection, which you will not prize the less that you have made it all yourself.
Books written by others in time become wearisome to us, but of those we write ourselves we never tire. And it will be yours, this collection of thoughts chosen because you liked them; counsels you have given yourself; moral receipts you have discovered, and of which, perhaps, you have proved the efficacy.
Happy soul! that each day reaps its harvest.
VII
Do you wish to live at peace with all the world? Then practise the maxims of an influential man, who, when asked, after the Revolution, how he managed to escape the executioner’s axe, replied, “I made myself of no reputation and kept silence.”
Would you live peaceably with the members of your family, above all with those who exercise a certain control of you? Use the means employed by a pious woman, who had to live with one of a trying temper, and which she summed up in the following words:—
“I do everything to please her.
“I fulfil all my duties with a smiling face, never revealing the trouble it causes me.
“I bear patiently everything that displeases me.
“I consult her on many subjects of which, perhaps, I may be the better judge.”
Would you be at peace with your conscience? Let your Guardian Angel find you at each moment of the day doing one of these four things which once formed the rule of a saintly life: (1.) praying; (2.) laboring; (3.) striving after holiness; (4.) practising patience.
Would you become holy? Try to add to the above actions the following virtues: method, faith, spiritual combat, perseverance.
Finally, if you would live in an atmosphere of benevolence, make it your study to be always rendering others service, and never hesitate to ask the same of them.
In offering help, you make a step towards gaining a friend; in asking it, you please by this mark of your confidence. The result of this will be a constant habit of mutual forbearance, and a fear to be disobliging in matters of greater importance.
VIII
When teaching or working with others, never laugh or make fun of their awkwardness. If it is caused by stupidity, your laughter is uncharitable; if from ignorance, your mockery is, to say the least, unjust.
Teach the unskilful with gentleness; show him the right way to work; and God, Who sees all your efforts, will smile on your patience, and send you help in all your difficulties.
IX
When the heart is heavy, and we suffer from depression or disappointment, how thankful we should be that we still have work and prayer left to comfort us. Occupation forcibly diverts the mind; prayer sweetly soothes the soul.
“Then,” writes one who had been sorely tried, “I tell my griefs to God, as a child tells its troubles to its mother; and when I have told all I am comforted, and repeat with a lightened heart the prayer of S. Françoise de Chantal (who certainly suffered more than I), ‘Thy will be done for ever and ever, O Lord, without if or but;’... and then, for fear a murmur may arise in my heart, I return immediately to my work, and become absorbed in occupation.”
X
He who is never satisfied with anything, satisfies no one.
XI
Are there many who try to be of some little help or comfort to the souls with whom they are brought in contact through life?
Poor souls, that, perhaps, have no longer strength or will to manifest the longing they experience, and who languish for want of help, without being aware that they are perishing. Oh, mingle sometimes with your earthly help the blessed Name of God; and if there remain one little spark of life in the soul, that Name will rekindle it, and carry comfort and resignation; even as air breathed into the mouth of any one apparently dead, rushes into the lungs, and revives the sufferer, if but one breath of life remains.
Souls! Souls! I yearn for Souls!—This is the cry of the Saviour; and for their sakes He died upon the Cross, and remains until eternity their Intercessor.
Souls! Souls! I must win Souls!—It is the cry of Satan; and to obtain them he scatters gold to tempt them, multiplies their pleasures and vanities, and gives the praise that only infatuates.
Souls! Souls! we long for Souls!—Let this be our aim, readers and writers of these our “Paillettes;” and for the sake of even one soul, let not fatigue, expense, or the criticism of the world, deter us....
XII
How few there are who would thus dare to address God each night: “Lord, deal with me to-morrow as I have this day dealt with others;... those to whom I was harsh, and from malice, or to show my own superiority, exposed their failings; others, to whom, from pride or dislike, I refused to speak,—one I have avoided, another I cannot like because she displeases me; I will not forgive,—to whom I will not show any kindness.”...
And yet let us never forget that, sooner or later, God will do unto us even as we have done unto them.
XIII
“Grant me, O Lord,” said a humble soul, “that I may pass unnoticed through the world.”
This should be the wish, or rather the aim, of all true devotion.
Small virtues require the praise of man to sustain them, just as little children require encouragement to walk or stand alone.
But true virtue goes quietly through the world, scattering good around, and performing noble deeds, without even the knowledge that what it does is heroic.
XIV
S. Chantal one day was excusing herself to S. François de Sales for having spoken hastily to some one, on the plea that it was in the cause of justice. The Saint replied, “You have been more just than righteous; but we should be more righteous than just.”
XV
A devout woman once wrote thus: “In my own family I try to be as little in the way as possible, satisfied with everything, and never to believe for a moment that any one means unkindly towards me.
“If people are friendly and kind to me, I enjoy it; if they neglect me, or leave me, I am always happy alone. It all tends to my one aim, forgetfulness of self in order to please God.”
XVI
Learning is not without its effect upon the soul; it either lends it wings to bear it up to God, or leaves behind it tiny sparks, which little by little consume the whole being.
If you would ascertain all the good or ill you have derived from all those hours devoted to historians, poets, novelists, or philosophers, put to yourself these questions: Since acquiring this knowledge, am I wiser? am I better? am I happier?
Wiser?—That is to say, more self-controlled, less the slave of my passions, less irritated by small vexations, braver in bearing misfortunes, more careful to live for eternity?
Better?—More forbearing towards others, more forgiving, less uncharitable, more reticent in opposing the faults of others, more solicitous for the happiness of those around me?
Happier?—That would mean more contented with my station in life, striving to derive all possible benefits from it, to beautify rather than to alter it?
Have I more faith in God, and more calmness and resignation in all the events of life?
If you cannot reply in the affirmative, then examine your heart thoroughly, and you will find there, stifling the good that God has implanted, these three tyrants that have obtained dominion over, you: (1.) Pride; (2.) Ambition; (3.) Self-conceit.
From them have sprung: dissatisfaction and contempt of your life and its surroundings, restlessness, a longing for power and dominion over others, malice, habitual discontent, and incessant murmurings. Have you any further doubts? Then inquire of those with whom you live.
Ah! if this be indeed the sad result, then, whatever may be your age, close, oh! close those books, and seek once more those two elements of happiness you ought never to have forsaken, and which, had you made them the companions of your study, would have kept you pure and good.
I refer to prayer and manual labor.
XVII
Listen to the story of a simple shepherd, given in his own words: “I forget now who it was that once said to me, ‘Jean Baptiste, you are very poor?’—True.—‘If you fell ill, your wife and children would be destitute?’—True. And then I felt anxious and uneasy for the rest of the day.”
“At Evensong wiser thoughts came to me, and I said to myself: Jean Baptiste, for more than thirty years you have lived in the world, you have never possessed anything, yet still you live on, and have been provided each day with nourishment, each night with repose. Of trouble God has never sent you more than your share. Of help the means have never failed you. To whom do you owe all this? To God. Jean Baptiste, be no longer ungrateful, and banish those anxious thoughts; for what could ever induce you to think that the Hand from which you have already received so much, would close against you when you grow old, and have greater need of help? I finished my prayer, and felt at peace.”
XVIII
The work of the Sower is given to each of us in this world, and we fall short of our duty when we let those with whom we are brought in contact leave us without having given them a kind thought or pious impression.
Nothing is so sad as the cry, “I am useless!” Happily none need ever be so.
A kind word, a gentle act, a modest demeanor, a loving smile, are as so many seeds that we can scatter every moment of our lives, and which will always spring up and bear fruit.
Happy are those who have many around them... they are rich in opportunities, and may sow plenteously.
XIX
Few positions in life are so full of importunities as that of the mother of a family, or mistress of a house. She may have a dozen interruptions while writing one letter, or settling an account. What holiness, what self-control, is needed to be always calm and unruffled amid these little vexations, and never to manifest the slightest impatience!
Leaving the work without apparent annoyance, replying with a smile upon the lips, awaiting patiently the end of a long conversation, and finally returning calmly to the yet unfinished work—all this is the sign of a recollected soul, and one that waits upon God.
Oh! what blessings are shed around them by such patient souls... but, alas! how rarely they are to be met with!
XX
There are times in one’s life when all the world seems to turn against us. Our motives are misunderstood, our words misconstrued, a malicious smile or an unkind word reveals to us the unfriendly feelings of others. Our advances are repulsed, or met with icy coldness; a dry refusal arrests on our lips the offer of help....
Oh, how hard it all seems, and the more so that we cannot divine the cause!
Courage, patience, poor disconsolate one! God is making a furrow in your heart, where He will surely sow His grace.
It is rare when injustice, or slights patiently borne, do not leave the heart at the close of the day filled with marvellous joy and peace.
It is the seed God has sown, springing up and bearing fruit.
XXI
That which costs little is of little worth. This thought should make us tremble. In our self-examination we may experience at times a certain satisfaction in noticing the little virtues we may possess, above all, those that render us pleasing in the eyes of others.
For instance, we may like to pray at a certain place, with certain sentiments, and we think ourselves devout; we are gentle, polite, and smiling towards one person in particular; patient with those we fear, or in whose good opinion we would stand; we are devoted, charitable, generous, because the heart experiences an unspeakable pleasure in spending and being spent for others; we suffer willingly at the hands of some one we love, and then say we are patient; we are silent, because we have no inclination to speak; shunning society because we fail to shine there, and then fancy that we love retirement.
Take these virtues that give you such self-satisfaction, one by one, and ask yourself at what sacrifice, labor, or cost, above all, with what care you have managed to acquire them.... Alas! you will find that all that patience, affability, generosity, and piety are but as naught, springing from a heart puffed up with pride. It costs nothing, and it is worthless.
As self-sacrifice, says De Maistre, is the basis and essence of virtue, so those virtues are the most meritorious that have cost the greatest effort to attain.
Do not look with so much pride on this collection of virtues, but rather bring yourself to account for your faults. Take just one, the first that comes, impatience, sloth, gossip, uncharitableness, sulkiness, whatever it may be, and attack it bravely.
It will take at least a month, calculating upon three victories every day, not indeed to eradicate it,—a fault is not so short-lived,—but to prevent its attaining dominion over you.
That one subdued, then take another. It is the work of a lifetime; and truly to our faults may we apply the saying, “Quand il n’y en a plus, il y en a encore.”
“Happy should I think myself,” said S. Francis de Sales, “if I could rid myself of my imperfections but one-quarter of an hour previous to my death.”
XXII
Before Holy Communion
Jesus
My child, it is not wisdom I require of thee, it sufficeth if thou lovest Me well.
Speak to Me as thou wouldst talk to thy mother if she were here, pressing thee to her heart.
Hast thou none for whom thou wouldst intercede? Tell Me the names of thy kindred and thy friends; and at the mention of each name add what thou wouldst have Me do for them. Ask much fervently; the generous hearts that forget themselves for others are very dear unto Me.
Tell Me of the poor thou wouldst succor, the sick thou hast seen suffering, the sinful thou wouldst reclaim, the estranged thou wouldst receive to thy heart again.
Pray fervently for all mankind.
Remind Me of My promise to hear all prayers that proceed from the heart; and the prayer offered for one who loves us, and is dear to us, is sure to be heartfelt and fervent.
Hast thou no favors to ask of Me? Give Me, if thou wilt, a list of all thy desires, all the wants of thy soul. Tell Me, simply, of all thy pride, sensuality, self-love, sloth; and ask for My help in thy struggles to overcome them.
Poor child! be not abashed; many that had the same faults to contend against are now saints in heaven.
They cried to Me for help, and by degrees they conquered.
Do not hesitate to ask for temporal blessings,—health, intellect, success. I can bestow them, and never fail to do so, where they tend to make the soul more holy. What wouldst thou this day, My child?... If thou didst but know how I long to bless thee!...
Hast thou no interests which occupy thy mind?
Tell Me of them all.... Of thy vocation. What dost thou think? What dost thou desire? Wouldst thou give pleasure to thy mother, thy family, those in authority over thee? what wouldst thou do for them?
And for Me hast thou no ardor? Dost thou not desire to do some good to the souls of those thou lovest, but who are forgetful of Me?
Tell Me of one in whom thou hast interest; the motive that actuates; the means thou wouldst employ.
Lay before Me thy failures, and I will teach thee the cause.
Whom wouldst thou have to help thee? The hearts of all are in My keeping, and I lead them gently wheresoever I will. Rest assured, all who are needful to thee, I will place around thee.
Oh! My child, tell Me of all thy weariness: who has grieved thee? treated thee with contempt? wounded thy self-love?
Tell Me all, and thou wilt end by saying, all is forgiven, all forgotten... and I, surely I will bless thee!...
Art thou fearful of the future? Is there in thy heart that vague dread that thou canst not define, but which nevertheless torments thee?
Trust in My Providence.... I am present with thee, I know all, and I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.
Are there around thee those seemingly less devout than formerly, whose coldness or indifference have estranged thee from them without real cause?...
Pray for them. I can draw them back to thee if they are necessary to the sanctification of thy soul.
What are the joys of which thou hast to tell Me?
Let Me share thy pleasures; tell Me of all that has occurred since yesterday to comfort thee, please thee, to give thee joy!
That fear suddenly dispelled, that unexpected success, that token of affection, the trial that proved thee stronger than thou thoughtest....
My child, I sent it all; why not show some gratitude, and simply thank thy Lord?
Gratitude draws down a blessing, and the Great Benefactor likes His children to remind Him of His Goodness.
Hast thou no promises to make to Me? I can read thy heart; thou knowest it; thou mayst deceive man, but thou canst never deceive God. Be sincere.
Art thou resolved to avoid all occasions of sin? To renounce that which tempts thee; never again to open the book that excites thine imagination? Not to bestow thine affection on one who is not devout, and whose presence steals the peace from thy soul?
Wilt thou go now and be loving and forbearing towards one who has vexed thee?...
Good, My child!... Go, then, return to thy daily toil; be silent, humble, resigned, charitable; then return to Me with a heart yet more loving and devoted, and I shall have for thee fresh blessings.
XXIII
“There will soon be none left,” said S. Francis de Sales, “who will love poor sinners but God and myself.”
Oh! why do we fail in love towards those poor sinful ones! Are they not very much to be pitied?
When they are prosperous, pray for them; but when misfortune comes (and trouble weighs heavily upon the wicked), death depriving them of the only beings they did not hate, afflicting them with a loathsome disease, delivering them up to scorn and misery—oh! then, when all this comes upon them, love them freely. It is by affection alone that we can reach the worst characters, and the souls that are steeped in sin.
How many have died impenitent, who, if only some one had cared for them and shown them love, might have become at last saints in heaven! Oh! the sins that are committed, oh! the souls we suffer to wander from God, and all because we are so wanting in love towards them.
XXIV
Let us always be on our guard against Prejudice.
Some women have a way (of which they themselves are unconscious) of turning the cold shoulder to some one member of their family.
For what reason? They cannot say, simply because the cause is never very clearly defined and in this lies all the mischief.
Perhaps an air of indifference they may have fancied, and which arose merely from fatigue, or trouble that could not be confided to them.
A word misinterpreted, because heard at a time when they felt discontented, and their morbid imagination made everything appear in a false light.
Some scandal to which they ought never to have listened, or, at least, should have endeavored to fathom, going direct to the person concerned and seeking an explanation.
And behold the result: they in their turn become cold, reserved, and suspicious, misinterpreting the slightest gesture... in a few days arises a coldness, from the feeling they are no longer beloved; then follow contempt and mistrust, finally, a hatred that gnaws and rends the very heart.
It all springs up imperceptibly, till at last the family life is one of bitterness and misery.
They console, or better still, excuse themselves, with the thought of their suffering, never considering how much pain they give to others, nor where the fault lies.
XXV
Let it rest! Ah! how many hearts on the brink of anxiety and disquietude by this simple sentence have been made calm and happy!
Some proceeding has wounded us by its want of tact; let it rest; no one will think of it again.
A harsh or unjust sentence irritates us; let it rest; whoever may have given vent to it will be pleased to see it is forgotten.
A painful scandal is about to estrange us from an old friend; let it rest, and thus preserve our charity and peace of mind.
A suspicious look is on the point of cooling our affection; let it rest, and our look of trust will restore confidence....
Fancy! we who are so careful to remove the briers from our pathway for fear they should wound, yet take pleasure in collecting and piercing our hearts with the thorns that meet us in our daily intercourse with one another. How childish and unreasonable we are!
XXVI
Of all the means placed by Providence within our reach, whereby we may lead souls to Him, there is one more blessed than all others,—intercessory prayer.
How often, in the presence of one deeply loved, but, alas! estranged from God, the heart of mother or wife has felt a sudden impulse to say an earnest word, propose an act of devotion, to paint in glowing colors the blessings of faith and the happiness of virtue... and she has stopped, deterred by an irresistible fear of how the words may be received; and she says to herself, poor woman, “To-morrow I shall be braver.”
Poor mother! poor wife! go and tell to your Heavenly Father all you would, but dare not, say to the loved one who gives you so much pain.
Lay that sin-sick soul before the Lord, as long ago they laid the paralytic man who could not, or perhaps would not, be led to Him.
Plead for him with the long-suffering Saviour, as you would plead with an earthly master, upon whom depended all his future welfare, and say to Him simply, “Lord, have patience with him yet a little longer.”
Tell God of all your anxiety, your discouragements, the means employed for success.
Ask Him to teach you what to say and how to act. One sentence learned of God in prayer will do more for the conversion of a soul than all our poor human endeavors. That sentence will escape our lips involuntarily. We may not remember that we have said it, but it will sink deep into the heart, making a lasting impression, and silently fulfilling its mission.
You are, perhaps, surprised, after many years, to see such poor results. Ah! how little can you judge!...
Do you know what you have gained? In the first place, time—often a physical impossibility to sin, which you may attribute to chance, but which was, in reality, the work of Providence; and is it nothing, one sin the less, in the life of an immortal soul?... Then a vague uneasiness which will soon allow of no rest, a confidence which may enable you to sympathize, more liberty left you for the exercise of religious acts; you no longer see the contemptuous smile at your acts of devotion. Is all this nothing?
Ah! if, while on your knees praying for the one you would have reconciled to God, you could but see what is passing in his soul,—the wrestlings, the remorse he strives vainly to stifle; if you could see the work of the Holy Spirit in the heart, gently but firmly triumphing over the will, how earnestly, how incessantly, would you continue to pray!
Only have patience to wait—perseverance not to grow weary.
It is the want of patience that often makes us exacting towards those we desire to help.
More haste, less speed, is an old saying; the more we are exacting, the less likely are we to succeed.
Men like to act freely, and to have the credit of their actions.
It is because we have not learned to persevere that the work seems never to progress.
Courage, then! the ground may seem too dry for cultivation, but each prayer will be as a drop of water; the marble may be very hard, but each prayer is like the hammer’s stroke that wears away its roughness.
XXVII
The sweet peace of God bears the outward token of resignation.
When the Holy Spirit dwells within us everything seems bright.
Everything may not be exactly as we would wish it, but we accept all with a good grace.... For instance, some change in our household or mode of living upsets us. If God is with us, He will whisper, “Yield cheerfully thy will; in a little while all will be forgotten.”
Some command or employment wounds our pride; if God is with us, He will say to us, “Be submissive, and I will come to thine aid.”
We may dislike a certain neighborhood; the society there may be repulsive to us, and we are about to become morbid: God will tell us to continue gracious and smiling, for He will recompense the little annoyances we may experience. If you would discern in whom God’s Spirit dwells, watch that person, and notice whether you ever hear him murmur.
XXVIII
I Want to Be Holy
Heavenly Father, aid Thy child, who longs to become holy!
But then, I must be patient under humiliation, let myself be forgotten, and be even pleased at feeling myself set aside.
Never mind! I am resolved; I wish to be holy!
But I must never excuse myself, never be impatient, never out of temper.
Never mind! I am resolved; I wish to be holy!
Then I must continually be doing violence to my feelings,—submitting my will always to that of my superiors, never contentious, never sulky, finishing every work begun, in spite of dislike or ennui.
Never mind! I am resolved; I wish to be holy!
But then, I must be always charitable towards all around me; loving them, helping them to the utmost of my power, although it may cause me trouble.
Never mind! I am resolved; I wish to be holy!
But I must constantly strive against the cowardice, sloth, and pride of my nature, renouncing the world, the vanity that pleases, the sensuality that rejoices me, the antipathy that makes me avoid those I do not like.
Never mind! I am resolved; I still wish to be holy!
Then, I shall have to experience long hours of weariness, sadness, and discontent. I shall often feel lonely and discouraged.
Never mind! I am resolved; I wish to be holy! for then I shall have Thee always with me, ever near me. Lord, help me, for I want to be holy!
How to Become Holy
Oh! it is quite easy, if I fulfil every duty to the best of my ability; and many who had no more to do than I have become saints.
One day is the same as another. Prayer, worldly business, calls to be devout, charitable, and faithful,—these are the duties that each hour brings in its turn; and if I am faithful in their fulfilment, God will be always ready to help me, and then what signifies a little ennui, pain, or misfortune?
The Sanctification of Daily Duties
I will perform them as in God’s sight, conscious that He is present, and smiling on my efforts.
I will perform each as if I had but one to accomplish, striving to render it as perfect as possible.
I will fulfil each duty as if upon that one alone depended my salvation.
Motives for Sanctifying My Actions
God expects me to honor Him by that action.
God has attached a special blessing to that action, and awaits its fulfilment to bestow it.
God notes each action; and of them all hereafter I must give an account.
God will see that I love Him, if I strive to fulfil every duty, in spite of weariness and trouble.
I honor God by this action; and I, poor, weak, sinful child, am allowed to glorify Him, in place of those who blaspheme and rebel against the Divine will.
XXIX
They say there is nothing which communicates itself so quickly amongst the members of a family as an expression of coldness or discontent on the face of one of its members. It is like the frost that chills us. This is not altogether true; there is something which is communicated with equal rapidity and greater force—I mean the smiling face, the beaming countenance, the happy heart.
XXX
Little Worries
There is not a day in our lives that we are not distressed by some one of those numberless little worries that meet us at every step, and which are inevitable.
The wound made may not be deep; but the constant pricks, each day renewed, imbitter the character, destroy peace, create anxiety, and make the family life, that otherwise would be so sweet and peaceful, almost unendurable.
Life is full of these little miseries. Each hour brings with it its own trouble.
Here are some of the little worries: An impatient word escapes our lips in the presence of some one in whose estimation we would stand well.
A servant does his work badly, fidgets us by his slowness, irritates us by his thoughtlessness, and his awkward blunders make us blush.
A giddy child in its clumsiness breaks something of value, or that we treasure on account of its associations; we are charged with a message of importance, and our forgetfulness makes us appear uncourteous, perhaps ungrateful; some one we live with is constantly finding fault, nothing pleases them. If, when night comes, we find we have not experienced these little worries, then we ought to be grateful to God. Each of these, and many more, are liable to befall us every day of our life.
How to Bear Little Worries
In the first place, expect them. Make them the subject of our morning prayers, and say to ourselves, Here is my daily cross, do I accept willingly? Surely! for it is God Who sends it. After all... these little troubles, looked at calmly, what are they? Ah, if there were never any worse!
Secondly, we must be prepared for them. You know, if you wish to break the force of a blow falling on you, you naturally bend the body; so let us act with regard to our souls.
Accustom yourself, wrote a pious author, to stoop with sweet condescension, not only to exigencies (that is your duty), but to the simple wishes of those who surround you—the accidents which may intervene; you will find yourself seldom, if ever, crushed.
To bend is better than to bear; to bear is often a little hard; to bend implies a certain external sweetness that yields all constraint, sacrificing the wishes, even in holy things, when they tend to cause disagreements in the family circle.
Submission often implies an entire resignation to all that God permits. The soul that endures feels the weight of its trouble. The soul that yields scarcely perceives it.
Blessed are those docile ones; they are those whom God selects to work for Him.
XXXI
To Obtain Peace
Approach the Blessed Sacrament, O restless soul, in search of peace, and, humbly kneeling there, pour forth bravely, slowly, and with earnest desire, the following prayer:—
O Jesus, gentle and humble of heart, hear me!
From the desire of being esteemed,
From the desire of being loved,
From the desire to be sought,
Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire to be mourned,
From the desire of praise,
From the desire of preference,
From the desire of influence,
From the desire of approval,
From the desire of authority,
From the fear of humiliation,
From the fear of being despised,
From the fear of repulse,
From the fear of calumny,
From the fear of oblivion,
From the fear of ridicule,
From the fear of injury,
From the fear of suspicion,
Deliver me, Jesus.
That others may be loved more than myself. Jesus grant this desire.
That others may be more highly esteemed.
That others may grow and increase in honor, and I decrease. Jesus, grant me to desire it.
That others may be employed, and I set aside. Jesus, grant me to desire this.
That others may attract the praise, and myself be forgotten.
That others may be preferred in all.
Grant me the utmost holiness of which I am capable, then let others be holier than myself. Jesus, grant me to desire it!
Oh, if God hearkens,—and hearken He surely will, if your prayer has been sincere,—what joy in your heart, what peace on your countenance, what sweetness will pervade your whole life!
More than half one’s troubles arise from an exaggerated idea of one’s own importance, and the efforts we make to increase our position in the world. Lacordaire says, that the sweetest thing on earth is to be forgotten by all, with the exception of those who love us. All else brings more trouble than joy; and as soon as we have completed our task here, and fulfilled our mission, the best thing for us to do is to disappear altogether.
Let us each cultivate carefully and joyously the portion of soil Providence has committed to our care. Let us never be hindered or distracted by ambitious thoughts, that we could do better, or a false zeal tempting us to forsake our daily task with the vain desire to surpass our neighbors.... Let this one thought occupy our minds. To do well what is given us to do, for this is all that God requires at our hands. It may be summed up in four words,—simply, zealously, cheerfully, completely.
Then if we are slighted, misunderstood, maligned, or persecuted, what does it matter? These injuries will pass away; but the peace and love of God will remain with us forever, the reward of our faith and patience. The love of God! Who can describe all the joy, strength, and consolation it reveals?
Never has human love, in its brightest dreams, been able to form any idea of all the sweetness the love of God imparts to the soul, and which is brought still nearer to us in the Blessed Sacrament.
I can well understand the words of a loving soul: “With heaven so near, and daily communion with our God, how can we ever repine!”
XXXII
After Holy Communion
Our Father Which Art in Heaven
O Jesus! it is Thou Who biddest me say, Father! My Father! Oh how that Name rejoices my heart! My Father! I can no longer feel alone; and whatever may happen to me this day, I feel I am protected, comforted, beloved.
Jesus! let me dwell on the sweetness of those words: My Father! I need not lift my eyes to heaven, Thou art within me, and where Thou dwellest heaven must be.
Yes! heaven is within me! heaven with all its peace and love; and if I keep free from guile this day, my day will be one of heavenly joy, and in addition, the privilege of suffering for Thee.
Hallowed Be Thy Name
To hallow Thy Name, O Lord, is to pronounce it with reverence and awe.
To-day I will pray more fervently, try to realize Thy Presence, Thy Goodness, Thy Love; and my heart shall be a sanctuary into which nothing shall penetrate that could be displeasing unto Thee.
To hallow Thy Name is to call upon it fervently, to have it constantly upon my lips; above all, before taking an important step, when there are difficulties to be overcome, I will softly whisper the Invocation, which is the secret of all holy living! “Jesus, meek and humble of heart, have pity upon me.”
Thy Kingdom Come
O Jesus, Thy kingdom is within my heart, reign there in all Thy sovereignty and power, reign there absolutely!
My King! what dost Thou require of me to-day? Thy commandments, my rule of life, my daily duties,—these are Thy commands that I will promise to obey; more than that, I will regard all in authority over me as Thine Ambassadors, speaking to me in Thy Name. What matters the tone or the harshness of the order?
What does it signify if some unexpected command upsets all my previous plans? It is Thy Voice I hear, Thou Lord, Whom I will obey always, and in all things.
Thy kingdom is also in the hearts of others; and there would I see Thee reigning. Then to whom can I speak of Thee this day? What counsels can I give? What moments may I seize, in which, without wounding the feelings, or parading my zeal, I may be allowed to speak a few words of piety? Lord, let me have the opportunity to help another to love Thee!
Thy Will Be Done in Earth, as It Is in Heaven
Yes, yes! Thy Will be done! Thy sweet all-perfect Will!
What wilt Thou send me to-day?
Humiliation? Provocation? Sufferings? A fresh rending of the heart? A disappointment? Shall I see myself misjudged, falsely suspected, despised? I accept beforehand all that Thou sendest me; and if through weakness I weep, suffer it to be so; if I murmur, check me; if I am vexed, correct me; if hopeless, encourage me.
Yes, yes! Let Thy sweet and holy Will be done!
Even, O Lord, if to glorify Thee, I must be humiliated, suffering, useless, and forsaken, still, Lord, stay not Thine Hand, I am wholly Thine.
Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread
How blessed, O Lord, to depend only upon Thee... behold me, Thy child, waiting with outstretched hand to receive Thy benefits.
Grant me my temporal blessings,—clothing, nourishment, shelter... but not too much of anything; and let me have the happiness of sharing my blessings with those poorer than myself to-day. Grant me the blessing of intelligence, that I may read, or hear one of those golden counsels that elevate the soul, and lend wings to the thoughts.
Grant me the loving heart, O my Father! that I may feel for a moment how I love Thee, and Thy love towards me; let me sacrifice myself for the welfare of another. Give me the Bread of Life, the Holy Eucharist! I have just received it, Lord! Grant me again ere long that great blessing.
And then, give all these blessings to those I love, and who love me!
Forgive Us Our Trespasses, as We Forgive Them That Trespass Against Us
When I pronounce the word of pardon, what a weight seems lifted from my heart.
I will not only banish every feeling of hatred, I will efface every painful remembrance. O God, if Thou forgivest me, as I forgive others, what mercy for me!
Thou seest I bear no malice, that I forget all injuries....
I have been offended by words; I forget them; by actions, I forget them; by omissions, thoughts, desires; they are all forgotten.
Ah! in all these ways I have offended Thee, and Thou wilt forget, even as I have forgotten.
I will be very merciful, so that Thou mayst have mercy upon me.
Lead Us Not Into Temptation, but Deliver Us From Evil
Now, as I leave Thine altar, I go to encounter temptation.
O Saviour! help me, keep me, and warn me of my danger!
Let me shun all occasions of evil, and if by weakness or allurements I am led into paths of sin, if I fall, oh! rescue me speedily, that I may fall upon my knees, confessing my sin, and imploring pardon.
Sin! this is the evil from which I beseech Thee to deliver me; other troubles that may happen, I accept; they are sent to try me and to purify, and come from Thee; but sin, I have no pleasure in it! Oh! when in the hour of temptation I fall away, Lord, hearken to the cry that I now raise to Thee in all sincerity; I will it not! it is not wilful! I go from Thy Presence, but, Jesus, Thou art with me! In work, in prayer, in suffering, let all be done in Thee!
XXXIII
“Mother,” asked a child, “since nothing is ever lost, where do all our thoughts go?”
“To God,” answered the mother gravely, “who remembers them forever.”
“Forever!” said the child. He bent his head, and, drawing closer to his mother, murmured, “I am frightened!”
Which of us have not felt the same?
XXXIV
One more solemn thought: How old are you? Nineteen. Have you reckoned the number of minutes that have elapsed since your birth? The number is startling: nine millions, three hundred and thirty-three thousand, two hundred.... Each of those minutes has flown to God; God has examined them and weighed them, and for them you must give account.
Each minute bears its own impress (as a coin bears the impress of the Sovereign), and only those marked with the image of God will avail you for eternity.
Is not this thought one to make you tremble?
“I never could understand,” writes Guérin, “the feeling of security some have that their works must find favor with God—as if our duties were confined to the narrow limits of this little world. To be a good son, statesman, or brother, is not all that is required of us; God demands far more than this from those for whom He has destined a crown of glory hereafter.”
XXXV
One great characteristic of holiness is never to be exacting, never to complain.
Each complaint drags us down a degree in our upward course.
By complaining, I do not mean the simple imparting of our troubles to others.
Complaint savors always of a little bad temper, and a slightly vindictive spirit.
The saints were never exacting.
Contented with their lot, they never desired anything that was withheld from them.
“I have asked,” said a holy soul, “for something I thought needful; they have forgotten to answer me, or perhaps would not bestow it. Why need I be disquieted? If it were really necessary, God would quickly provide means to obtain it.” How few could enter into this feeling; and yet it is but the echo of Christ’s own words, “Your Father in Heaven knoweth that ye have need of all these things.”
XXXVI
Joy in life is like oil in a lamp. When the oil gets low the wick is consumed, emitting a black vapor, and sending forth only a lurid glow, which does not give light.
A life without joy passes away unprofitably, shedding around it only gloom and sorrow.
If every morning in a simple prayer,—in those fifteen minutes’ meditation (which only seem hard when we do not practise it),—we opened our hearts to God, as we open our windows to the sun and air, God would fill it with that calm, sweet joy which elevates the soul, prevents it feeling the weight of troubles, and makes it overflow with benevolence.
But joy does not mean levity, witty sayings, or repartee... it is habitual serenity.
Through a clear atmosphere we can always see the sky; it seems so light and full of elasticity.
A serene sky is always pure... clouds may pass across it, but they do not stain it.
So it is with the heart that early in the morning opens to receive God’s Peace.
XXXVII
“You are never out of temper,” was once said to a woman well known to be much tried at home; “is it that you do not feel the injustice, the annoyances?”—“I feel them as much as you do,” she replied; “but they do not hurt me.”—“You have, then, some special balm?”—“Yes; for the vexations caused by people, I have affection; for those of circumstances, I have prayer; and over every wound that bleeds, I murmur the words, ‘Thy Will be done.’”
XXXVIII
My Daily Cross
If I have no cross to bear to-day, I shall not advance heavenwards.
A cross (that is, anything that disturbs our peace) is the spur which stimulates, and without which we should most likely remain stationary, blinded with empty vanities, and sinking deeper into sin.
A cross helps us onwards, in spite of our apathy and resistance.
To lie quietly on a bed of down may seem a very sweet existence, but pleasant ease and rest are not the lot of a Christian; if he would mount higher and higher, it must be by a rough road.
Alas, for those who have no daily cross!
Alas, for those who repine and fret against it!
What Will Be My Cross To-day?
Perhaps that person, with whom Providence has placed me, and whom I dislike, whose look of disdain humiliates me, whose slowness worries me, who makes me jealous by being more beloved, more successful, than myself, whose chatter and light-heartedness, even her very attentions to myself, annoy me.
Or it may be that person that I think has quarrelled with me, and my imagination makes me fancy myself watched, criticised, turned into ridicule.
She is always with me; all my efforts to separate are frustrated; by some mysterious power she is always present, always near.
This is my heaviest cross; the rest are light in comparison.
Circumstances change, temptations diminish, troubles lessen; but those people who trouble or offend us are an ever-present source of irritation.
How to Bear This Daily Cross
Never manifest, in any way, the ennui, the dislike, the involuntary shudder, that her presence produces; force myself to render her some little service—never mind if she never knows it; it is between God and myself. Try to say a little good of her every day, of her talents, her character, her tact, for there is all that to be found in her. Pray earnestly for her, even asking God to help me to love her, and to spare her to me.
Dear companion! blessed messenger of God’s mercy! you are, without knowing it, the means for my sanctification, and I will not be ungrateful.
Yes! though the exterior be rude and repellent, yet to you I owe it that I am kept from greater sin; you, against whom my whole nature rebels... how I ought to love you!
XXXIX
Who is anxious for a beloved one’s eternal welfare?
We interest ourselves for their success, their prosperity; we ask God to keep them from harm and misfortune; we try to start them well in the world, to make them of reputation, to procure them pleasure.
To spare them trouble, we sacrifice our own ease and enjoyment....
Oh, that is all very beautiful, very right; but what should we do for the soul?
Do we pray to God that this soul may become humble, pure, devoted?
Do we take as much pains to procure him the little devotional book that will really help him, as we should to obtain a transient pleasure?
Do we help him, unseen, towards that act of charity, humiliation, or self-renunciation? Have we courage not to spare the soul the trial that we know will purify?
Does it seem too hard for you?
Ah! then you do not know what real love is. Does not God love us? Yet God lets us suffer; even sends the suffering.
Love is given us to help us onwards, nearer to God. The most blessed is that which draws us nearest to Him; and in proportion as it leads to God we realize its blessedness.
The essence of true love is not its tenderness, but its strength, power of endurance, its purity, its self-renunciation.
The mistake we make is when we seek to be beloved, instead of loving. What makes us cowardly is the fear of losing that love.
Never forget this: A selfish heart desires love for itself; a Christian heart delights to love—without return.
XL
To learn never to waste our time is perhaps one of the most difficult virtues to acquire.
A well-spent day is a source of pleasure. To be constantly employed, and never asking, “What shall I do?” is the secret of much goodness and happiness.
Begin, then, with promptitude, act decisively, persevere; if interrupted, be amiable, and return to the work unruffled, finish it carefully—these will be the signs of a virtuous soul.
XLI
Are you full of peace? Pray! Prayer will preserve it to you.
Are you tempted? Pray! Prayer will sustain you.
Have you fallen? Pray! Prayer will raise you.
Are you discouraged? Pray! Prayer will reassure and comfort you.
XLII
The young are seldom forbearing, because they so little understand the frailties of poor human nature.
Oh! if you could only witness the terrible struggles passing in the heart of that friend whose vivacity annoys you, whose fickleness provokes you, whose faults sometimes even make you blush....
Oh! if you saw the tears that are shed in secret, the vexation felt against self (perhaps on your account), you would indeed pity them. Love them! make allowances for them! never let them feel that you know their failings.
To make any one believe himself good, is to help him almost in spite of self to become so.
Forbearance is even more than forgiveness; it is excusing, putting always the best construction upon everything; above all, never showing that some proceeding has wounded us; speaking of any one who has vexed us thus: “She did not think, else she would have acted differently; she never meant to pain me, she loves me too much; she was perhaps unable to do otherwise, and yet suffers at the thought of having displeased me.”
For a wounded heart no balm is so efficacious as forbearance.
To forbear is to forget every night the little vexations of the past day; to say every morning: “To-day I shall be braver and calmer than yesterday.” Forbearance even sometimes leads us to detect in ourselves a little want of good nature, condescension, and charity.
To forbear is not only freely to forgive, but to meet half-way, with extended hand, those who timidly ask for pardon.
XLIII
My friend, do you know why the work you accomplish fails either to give pleasure to yourself or others?
It is because it is not cheerfully done, and therefore appears discolored.
A joyous heart amid our work imparts to duty a brilliancy that charms the eyes of others, while it prevents those feeling wounded who cannot perform it equally well.
Joy, with us, is like a lever, by which we lift the weights that without its help would crush us.
A workman once said: “If I were to leave off singing, I should be quite unequal to my business.”
Then sing always; let your heart sing as in its earliest years.
The refrain of the heart, which perhaps never passes the lips, but which echoes in heaven, is this sentence:—
“I love and I am beloved!”
XLIV
What regret we sometimes feel, after the death or departure of friends, at never having shown them the respect, the gratitude, we felt towards them, and how from the depths of our heart we are filled with tenderness and affection for them!
It may have been that at times we could not speak, because we thought too much of how to say it.
Another time we lost the opportunity, because we were always shirking it. Deep devotion is sometimes a little erratic; always afraid of doing too little, doing it badly or inopportunely. Oftener still the tokens of affection are checked, because we think we could show it in some better way; we put off till brighter days the dreams we cherished, the sweet yearning to open the heart to the loved ones, and let them see for once what a large place they fill there.
Alas! the days fly past, suddenly comes death, or, sadder still, separation without hope of return, leaving the bitter thought: “Others will show them better than I have done, how dear, how valued, they are.” Ah! when we can be loving to-day, never let us say, “I will love to-morrow;” when we have the opportunity of being grateful, never put off, for one hour, the proof of our gratitude!
Conclusion
Lacordaire, in preparing for a retreat in the country, said he only required for his realization of a dream of happiness and solitude, three things,—(1) God; (2) a friend; (3) books.
God!—We never fail to find Him when we are pure, holy, and fulfilling hourly our duty.
A Friend!—Responds always to the heart’s call, if only that heart be loving and devoted.
Books!—Oh! if only this little book of Gold Dust might be allowed to form one of the numbers of those that are carried away, far from the world’s turmoil, and read in order to gain a little help and peace!
It will take up so little room!