The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gold Dust, by E. L. E. B. This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Gold Dust A Collection of Golden Counsels for the Sanctification of Daily Life Author: E. L. E. B. Editor: Charlotte M. Yonge Release Date: January 20, 2009 [EBook #27852] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOLD DUST *** Produced by Stephen Hope, Kajsa Anderson, Fox in the Stars and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Frontispiece GOLD DUST A Collection of Golden Counsels for the Sanctification of Daily Life TRANSLATED AND ABRIDGED FROM THE FRENCH By E. L. E. B. EDITED BY CHARLOTTE M. YONGE GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK Printed in the United States of America To E. B. H. This little book is most lovingly dedicated PREFACE This little book is a translation from a collection of devotional thoughts published in France under the title of "Paillettes d'Or." It is necessarily a selection, since the gold dust which suits French readers requires a fresh sifting for the English; but the value of most of the thoughts seems to me well to deserve the term of gold. There are many who will much enjoy having this little collection on their table, so as to be able to take it up and dwell upon some one of its grains at leisure times throughout the day's business. C. M. Yonge. Feb. 12, 1880. INTRODUCTION In the south of France, during the summer, little children and old and infirm poor who are incapable of hard work, in order to earn a livelihood, employ themselves in searching the beds of dried up rivers for "Paillettes d'Or," or golden dust, which sparkles in the sun, and which the water carries away as it flows. What is done by these poor people and little children for the gold dust God has sown in those obscure rivers, we would do with those counsels and teachings which God has sown almost everywhere, which sparkle, enlighten, and inspire for a moment, then disappear, leaving but regret that the thought did not occur to collect and treasure them. Who is there that has not experienced at some time in his life those teachings so soft and gentle, yet so forcible, which make the heart thrill, and reveal to it suddenly a world of peace, joy, and devotion? It may have been but a word read in a book, or a sentence overheard in conversation, which may have had for us a two-fold meaning, and, in passing, left us touched with an unknown power. It was the smile on the lips of a beloved one whom we knew to be sorrowful, that spoke to us of the sweet joy of resignation. It was the open look of an innocent child that revealed to us all the beauty of frankness and simplicity. Oh! if we had but treasured all the rays of light that cross our path and sparkle but for a moment; oh! if we had but engraved them on our hearts! what a guide and comfort they would have been to us in the days of discouragement and sorrow; what counsels to guide our actions, what consolations to soothe the broken heart! How many new means of doing good! It is this simple work of gathering a little from every source—from nature, from books, above all, from mankind itself— that is the intention of one of your fellow-creatures, dear souls, you who long so to make your lives more holy and devout! And in the same way as the gold dust, gathered and accumulated from the river's bed, was the means of bringing a little profit to the hearth, so would we endeavor to carry a little joy to your hearts, and peace to your souls. Gather, then, these little counsels; gather them with watchfulness; let them for a moment penetrate deep into your heart; then scatter them abroad again, that they may go with their good words to the help of others. They will not be importunate, will not even ask to be preserved; they do not desire fame; all that they seek is to convey a transient blessing. 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.