Book I, Part 2, Chapter 13. The twelfth Privilege of Virtue, which is the quiet arid happy Death of the Virtuous : and, on the Contrary, the deplorable End of the wicked

1. Add to these privileges, the glorious death of good men, to which all the others are directed. For if, as wTe commonly say, it is the end that crowns the work, what can better deserve a crown, or what can be more glorious than the end of good men, and what more miserable than that of the wicked ? " The death of the saints," says the psalmist, " is precious in the sight of the Lord, but the death of sinners is the worst ;" (Ps. cxv. 15 ; xxxhi. 22) ; because it is the greatest of all miseries either of the body or soul. And, therefore, St. Bernard, writing upon these words, The death of sinners is the worst, says, " That first of all it is bad, because it takes them away from the world ; worse yet, because it separates the soul from the body ; but worst of all, because of those two eternal torments, fire everlasting, and the worm that never dies, which immediately follow it ;" S. Bern.

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Serm. inter parvcs. It cannot but be a great affliction to such persons to leave the world, a much greater to forsake their own flesh, but the greatest of all, will be hell torments, which they are to be for ever condemned to. These, therefore, and several other miseries put together, will disturb the wicked at this time ; because then they will first be sensible of the symptoms and accidents of their distemper, the racking pains they endure all over their bodies, the frights and terrors of their souls, the anguish their present condition causes, their apprehensions of what must follow, the remembrance of what is past, the reflection on the accounts they are going to give in, the dread they have of the sentence to be passed against them, the horror of the grave, their being separated from all they had an inordinate affection for, that is, from their riches, their friends, their wives, their children, nay, from the very light and common air, which they enjoy, and even from life itself. The greater love they had for any of these things, the more unwilling will they be to leave it : for, according to the great St. Augustine, " What we possess with love, we can never lose without grief;" De. Civit. Dei. Conformable to which was this saying of a philosopher : "The fewer pleasures a man has enjoyed, the less he is afraid of death.

2. But the greatest torment they suffer at this time, is that of an evil conscience, with the consideration and dread of those pains which are prepared for them; because man, being then alarmed at the approach of death, begins to open his eyes, and to consider what he never thought of in all his life before. Eusebius Emissenus gives us a very good reason for this in one of his Homilies, where he says, " Because at this time man lays aside all the solicitude with which he used to seek for and procure all that is necessary for life, and does not trouble his head any more, either about working or fighting, or any other employ whatever ; it follows from hence, that the soul, being free from every thing else, thinks of nothing but the account she must make, and all her powers are overcharged with the weight of the divine justice and of God Almighty's judgments. Man, therefore, lying in this miserable condition, with life behind his back and death before his eyes, he easily forgets the present, which he is going to leave, and begins to think of the future, which he is in continual expectation of. There he sees that his pleasures and delights are now at an end, and that he has nothing left him but his sins to appear against him, before the tribunal of God." S. Euseb. Homil. 1 2d Monachos. The same doctor, discoursing again upon this subject in another homily, says, " Let us consider what complaints a negligent soul will make at its departure out of this life ; what tribulation and anguish will she be filled with ! What clouds and darkness will she lie under, when, among those enemies that surround her, she shall see her own conscience, attended by a multitude of sins, the forwardest to appear against her ! For she alone, without any other witness, will appear before us, to convince us by her evidence, and confound us by her knowledge. It will be impossible to hide any thing from her, or to deny any thing she shall charge us with, since there will be no need of going any further than ourselves for a witness."

3. Peter Damianus handles this matter much better and more at large (Pet. Damian. c. 6. in Institut. Moniol. ad Blancam Commitissam) : " Let us consider," says he, " with attention, what dreadful fears and apprehensions the soul of a sinner will be oppressed with, when she is on the point of leaving the prison of the flesh, and how the stings of a guilty conscience will prick and torment her. Then she calls to mind the sins she has committed, and sees how she has despised and broken the commandments of God ; then she is troubled to have lost so much time, in which she might have done penance, and with affliction sees that the accounts she must unavoidably give, and the time of divine vengeance, is just at hand. She would willingly stay, but is forced to go ; she would fain recover what she has lost, but cannot obtain leave to do it. If she casts her eyes behind her, and considers the whole course of her life, it seems no more to her than a short moment: if she looks forward, she .sees there the space of an infinite eternity, that expects her. She weeps when she considers the everlasting happiness she has lost, which she might have gained in a short time of this life ; and to be deprived of this unspeakable sweetness of eternal delight for a fleeting carnal satisfaction, is a great affliction to her. She is filled with confusion to consider, that, for the pleasing this miserable body, which must be the food of worms, she has neglected herself, who ought to have taken her place amongst the choirs of angels. When she reflects upon the brightness and glory of immortal riches, she is ashamed to see herself deprived of them, for having sought after such as were base and perishable. But when she has done looking upward, and cast her eyes down upon the dark and frightful valley of this world, and at the same time sees the glory of the eternal light above her, she is fully convinced, that all she loved in this world was nothing but night and darkness. O ! if she could but then obtain a little time to do penance in, what austerities and mortifications would she not undergo ? What is it she would not do ? What vows would she not make, and what prayers would she not be continually offering up? But whilst man is revolving these things in his mind, behold the messenger and forerunners of death are just at hand, his eyes become dark and hollow, his breast heaves, his voice grows hoarse, he rattles in his throat, his limbs wax cold, his teeth turn black, he foams at the mouth, and his face grows wan and pale ; whilst these things, which serve as so many preparatives to approaching death, orderly fall out, the miserable soul sees before her all the works, words and thoughts of her late wicked life, which give a lamentable testimony against her, as being the author of them all : and though she would willingly turn her eyes away from them, she cannot, but is forced to see them. Let us add to all this, the horrible presence of the devils on the one side, and that of virtue and of the blessed angels on the other : and we may soon guess which of the two parties this prey is like to fall to ; because, if the dying man carries any works of piety and virtue with him, he is immediately comforted by the invitations and caresses of the angels ; but if the foulness of his sins, and of his wicked life past, require that he should be treated in another manner, immediately he trembles every joint of him ; from fear he falls into despair ; — and in this condition is snatched, rent and torn away from his miserable flesh, and thrown headlong into everlasting torments." Thus far Peter Damianus.

4. If all this be true, and must happen accordingly, what need any more, if a man has not lost his senses, to make him see how miserable the condition of the wicked is, and how carefully to be avoided, since their end is like to be so wretched and deplorable ?

5. If the goods of this world could do any service at that time, as they do all the other part of life, their misery would be much .easier, but there is none of them that give the least assistance. For neither can honors profit a man, nor friends help him ; he can have no servants to attend him ; he must expect no favor, because of his quality, no succor from his estate, nor any service from any thing whatever, but from virtue and innocence of life. For, as the wise man says, Riches cannot profit us in the day of vengeance, but justice alone, that is, virtue will deliver from death; Prow xi. How, therefore, can the wicked man, finding himself so poor and destitute of all kind of help, forbear trembling to see himself thus forsaken and neglected at the judgment-seat of Almighty God ?

§ I. Of the Death of the Just. — 6. But, on the contrary, how secure are the just against all these miseries when they come to die ! For as the wicked at this time receive the punishment of their sins, the just receive the reward of their deserts, according to Ecclesiasticus, who says, He that fears the Lord shall be happy in the last days, and in the day of his death he shall be blessed (Ecclus. i. 19); that is, he shall have the rich reward of his labors. St. John, in his Revelation, declares the same thing to us more expressly, when he tells us, That he heard a voice from heaven which commanded him to write, and the words which it dictated were these : Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord, because the Holy Ghost tells them, the time is come that they shall rest from their labors, for their works follow them ; Apoc. xiv. 13. How is it possible then for a just man, that has received such a promise as this from Almighty God himself, to be frightened at the hour of his death, when he sees himself just on the point of receiving what he has been laboring for all his life-time ? For this reason, one of holy Job's pretended friends tells him, That if there be no iniquity nor injustice found in him, he shall be as bright in the evening as the su?i at noon-day, and when he shall imagine himself to be quite spent, he shall arise like the morning star ; Job xi. 14, 17. St. Gregory, writing upon these words, says, that " The reason why this morning brightness shines upon the just in the evening is, because he perceives some glimmerings, at the hour of his death, of that glory which God has prepared for him; and, therefore, when others are the most dejected, he is then most cheerful;" St. Greg. 10. Moral, c. 1. Solomon, in his Proverbs, testifies the same, when he says, The wicked man shall be rejected because of his sins, but the just is in hopes at the hour of his death; Prov. xiv. 32.

7. To prove this by an example ; could any man have better hopes or more courage than the glorious St. Martin had on his death-bed, who, seeing the devil by him, asked him, " What dost thou do here, cruel beast ? thou shalt find no mortal sin in me to glut thyself with, and therefore I shall be received into Abraham's bosom in peace." Again, what greater confidence can be, than that St. Dominick had, when he was in the same circumstances ? for seeing the religious brothers all about him, bemoaning themselves for his departure, and the want they should find in the loss of him, he comforted them with these words: " Let nothing trouble or afflict you, children, for I shall do you much more service where I am going, than I shall be able to do you here." How can a man lose courage in this combat, or be afraid of death, who looked on eternal glory to be so much his own, as to be in hopes of obtaining it, not only for himself, but for his children too ?

8. It is on this account the just have so little reason to be afraid of death, that they praise God when they are dying, and thank him for having brought them to their end, looking on death as a cessation from their labors, and the beginning of their happiness and glory. Whereon St. Augustine, on 'St. John's Epistle, says, " It is not to be said of him that dies in peace, but of him that lives in peace, and dies with joy, that he desires to be dissolved and be with Christ ;" St. Aug. 9. in Ep. Joan. Thus we see the just man has no reason to be troubled at death; but we may with justice say of him, that, like the swan, he goes singing out of the world, praising and glorifying God for calling him to himself. He is not afraid of death, because he has feared God, and whosoever has clone that, has nothing else to be afraid of. He is not afraid of death, because he has been afraid of life ; the fear a man has of death, being only the effects of a bad life. He is not afraid of death, because he has spent all his life in learning how to die, and in preparing himself against death ; and he that stands always on his guard has no need to fear his enemies. He is not afraid of death, because the whole employment of his life has been to seek after those that might assist and stand by him at this hour, that is, virtue and good works. He is not afraid of death, because the many services he has done his judge will make him kind and favorable at that time. He is not, in fine, afraid of death, because death is no death, but only a slumber to a just man, it is no death, it is but a change ; it is no death, it is but the last day of his toils and labors ; it is no death, but only the way that leads to life, and the step by which he must mount to immortality ; for he knows that when death has passed through the veins of life, it loses the bitterness it had before, and takes up the sweetness of life.

9. Nor can any other of those accidents which usually happen at this time terrify him ; for he knows they are nothing but childbed pangs, which gave him birth to that eternity, that love of which has made him continually long for death, and suffer life with patience. He is not frightened with the remembrance of his sins, because he has Jesus Christ for his Redeemer, whom he has always been acceptable to ; nor does the rigor of God's judgments dishearten him, because his Redeemer is his advocate ; neither does he shrink at the sight of the devils, because Jesus Christ is his Captain; nor can the horror of the grave, make any impression upon him, because he knows " that he must sow a fleshly and corruptible body in the earth, that it may afterwards spring up incorruptible and spiritual ;" 1 Cor. xiii. 44. If it be true that the end crowns the work; and if, as Seneca says, "we must judge of all the rest by the last day, and, accordingly, pass sentence on the whole life past, because all that is past is condemned or justified by it" (Senec. Ep. 12) ; and if the death of good men be so peaceable and quiet, and that of the wicked, on the contrary, so disturbed and painful, what need have we of any other motive, than barely this difference, which is between the death of the one and of the other, make us resolve against a bad life, and to commence a good one?

10. Where is the benefit of all these pleasures, all this prosperity, and all these riches, all the titles and honors in the world, if, after all, I should be plunged headlong into hell fire ? And, on the other side, what hurt can all the miseries of this life do me, if, by means of them, I can make a happy end, and bring with me the pledges c f eternal glory ? Let the wicked man manage

25 R his point in the world with as much cunning as he pleases, w^hat will he get by all his craft, but just to know how to acquire such things as will serve to make him more proud, more vain, more sensual, more able to sin, more unable to do good, and to make death so much the more bitter and unwelcome, as life was the more pleasant and delightful ? If there is any sense and wit in the world, certainly there is none greater than to know how to order life well against this last hour, since a wise man's chief business is to understand what means are the most proper for him to use, in order to arrive at his end. If, therefore, we look on him as a skilful physician, who knows what remedies to prescribe for the recovery of health, which is the end of his science, we must of necessity think him truly wise, who knows how to govern his life, in order to death ; that is, in order to the making up of his accounts well, when death, to which he is to direct all his life, shall come.

§ II. The foregoing Section proved by some Examples. — 11. For the better explaining and confirming of what I have said, and to give the reader a little spiritual recreation, I think fit to add here a few famous examples of the glorious death of some saints, taken out of the holy pope Gregory's Book of Dialogues, (Greg. L. 4. Dial. c. 13), by which we may plainly perceive how pleasant and how happy a thing death is to the just. If I enlarge a little on this point, I shall not think my time ill spent, because the saint, at the same time that he relates these passages, gives a great deal of wholesome advice and instruction.

12. " He tells us, that, during the time the Goths were in Italy, there was a certain lady called Gala, of very considerable quality in Rome, daughter of one Symmachus, a consul. She was married very young, and became both wife and widow in one year. She had all the invitations imaginable from the world, her youth, and her fortune, to the taking of a second husband, but she chose to be the spouse of Christ, and to celebrate a marriage with him, that begins with sorrow, but ends with joy, rather than with the world, where it begins with joy, but ends in sorrow, because one of the two must unavoidably see the death of the other. This lady was of a warm constitution, and, therefore, the physicians told her that if she did not marry again, she would certainly have a beard like a man, which, accordingly, happened. Yet the holy woman, charmed with the inward beauty of her new bridegroom, was not troubled at her outward deformity, well knowing it would not be offensive to her heavenly spouse. Therefore, laying aside her worldly dress, she gave herself entirely up to the service of God, and entered into a monastery, near St. Peter's church, wThere she lived for several years in great simplicity of heart, and in the frequent exercise of prayer and charity to the poor. • The Almighty being resolved at length, to reward the labors of his servant with eternal glory, she was troubled with a cancer in the breast, which grew to such a height that she was forced to keep her bed, where, as she lay, she had always two lamps burning by her, being so great a lover of light, as to have a horror, not only of spiritual but also corporal darkness. Finding herself one night very much out of order, she saw the blessed Apostle St. Peter standing between the two lamps : not at all disturbed at the vision, nay, her love on the contrary emboldening and encouraging her, she, with a deal of cheerfulness and joy, asked him, — Great apostle, are my sins pardoned me yet ? To which he answered, with a smiling countenance, bowing down his head, Yes, they are pardoned you — come along with me. But the holy woman, having contracted a strict tie of friendship with another religious woman of the same monastery, called Benedicta, replied immediately, I beg that sister Benedicta may go along with me ; the apostle told her she was not to come yet, but that another sister whom he named, should bear her company, and that sister Benedicta should follow her within thirty days. After which he vanished, and the sick lady, sending for the prioress, gave her an account of all that happened, and both she and the other, whom St. Peter named, died within three days after, and at the end of thirty days, the other she had asked for. The memory of this passage is still preserved in that monastery, and the younger religious women, who received it from their mothers, recount it with as much fervor and devotion as if they themselves had been eye-witness to it." This is St. Gregory's own relation; the reader may observe how glorious an end this was.

13. After this the saint gives us an account of another example, no less wonderful (chap. 14) : " There was a certain man, says he, at Rome, called Servulus, very poor as to the world, but very rich in merits. His usual station was under a porch before St. Clement's church, where he begged, being so crippled by the palsy that he could not rise, nor sit in his bed, nor so much as lift his hand to his mouth, or turn from one side to the other. His mother and brother always kept him company and assisted him, and all the alms he could conveniently spare he desired his mother or his brother to distribute among the poor. He could not read, yet he bought some books of Scripture, and when any devout persons came to see him, would desire them to read to him ; by this means he got some insight into holy writ. Besides, he always used to bless God in the midst of his torments, and to employ himself day and night in singing of hymns. But the time drawing nigh when the Lord intended to reward his great patience, the holy man fell extreme sick, and when he perceived he was just going out of the world, he called together all the strangers thereabout, desiring them to join with him in praising God for the hopes he had given him of his being at the end of his labors.

14. " But as he was singing amongst the rest, he interrupted them on a sudden, crying out with a loud voice, Silence ! do you not hear the songs and hymns of praises and thanksgiving which fill the heavens ? And listening thus with the ear of his heart to the voices he heard within himself, he died. As soon as he had given up the ghost, such an extraordinary fragrancy was smelt all over the place, that rdl those present were delighted with its sweetness, by which they understood he really heard the songs of praise and joy with which he was received into heaven. A religious man of our convent, who is still living, and who was present when this happened, often, with tears, tells me, that those who were there when he died never lost the sweet smell till the body was buried."

15. I will add another memorable example out of the same saint, where he gives a faithful testimony, as being himself nearly concerned in it (chap. 16) ; " My father (says he) had three sisters, who all consecrated their virginity to God ; the eldest was called Tarsilla, the second Gordiana, the youngest Emiliana. They all three offered themselves to God at the same time, with an equal fervor, devotion and resignation, living together in their own house under the religious observance of a very rigorous rule. After they had lived thus for a very considerable time, Tarsilla and Emiliana began to increase every day more and more in the love of their Creator, and arrived to such a degree, that, though their bodies remained on earth, their souls were continually conversant in heaven. But Gordiana, on the contrary, growing every day more and more cold in her affection for God, was proportionably inflamed with the love of the world. All this while Tarsilla used frequently to tell her sister Emiliana, with a deal of sorrow, I see that our sister Gor-diana is not well pleased with our way of living; I perceive she is wholly bent upon outward things, and that she observes not in her heart her religious vows. Whereupon the other two sisters made it their whole business to advise her, with all the sweetness and tenderness they could, to lay aside her light behaviour, and be modest and grave as became her habit. She received this admonition with a very serious countenance, but as soon as it was over, laid aside that counterfeit gravity. Thus she spent her time in idle discourse, delighting in the company of worldly women, nor could she endure to converse with any other. One night, my great-grandfather Felix, who had been pope, appeared to Tarsilla, who had made a much greater progress than her sisters in continual prayer, corporal austerities, and fasting, in modesty, in gravity, and in all kinds of piety, and, showing her a habitation of eternal brightness, said to her, * Come hither to me, for I am to receive you into this habitation of light.' Within a few days after, Tarsilla fell sick of a burning fever, and was past all recovery ; and as it is customary for much company to visit a person of quality that lies a dying, to comfort the kindred of the party that is expiring, so that several persons of note were there, and amongst the rest my mother. Then the sick lady, lifting up her eyes towards heaven, saw her Saviour coming to her ; and, struck with admiration, began to cry out, * Stand aside, for Jesus Christ is coming.' And having fixed her eyes steadfastly on her Saviour, whom she saw, she soon after breathed out her blessed soul ; and immediately such a fragrancy was smelt by all there present, as sufficiently evinced that the Author of all sweetness had really been among them. When they uncovered her to wash her body, as is usually done with the dead, they found her knees and elbows as hard as a camel's, with continual prostrating at her prayers ; so her dead flesh gave a testimony of the employment of her spirit during life. All this happened before Christmas, and as soon as Christmas-day was over, Tarsilla appeared to her sister Emiliana in the night-time, and said to her, ' Come, my dear sister, let us keep the feast of the Epiphany together, since I have kept that of Christmas without you.' But Emiliana, being concerned at the danger her sister Gordiana would be exposed to if she were left alone, answered, * If I go along with you, to whose care shall I recommend our sister Gordiana?' Tarsilla, with a heavy countenance, replied, ' Do you come with me ; as for Gordiana, she is reckoned amongst 1he people of the world.' Immediately after this vision, Emiliana fell sick, and growing every hour worse and worse, died before the day her sister had named. Gordiana seeing herself now left alone, became more and more wicked every day, and by degrees quite losing the fear of God, and neglecting her modesty, her devotion, and the vows by which she had consecrated herself to God, went and married a man that had farmed her estate of her." This is all taken out of St. Gregory, who, by the examples of those of his own family and blood, shows us how happy and prosperous the end of virtue is, and how sorrowful and mean that of light and inconstant persons. I will conclude with one example more on this subject, out of the same saint, which happened in his time, and which he delivers in this manner : —

16. " About the time when I entered into a monastery, there was an ancient woman at Rome, called Redempta, who wore a religious habit, and lived just by our blessed Lady's. She had been formerly under the care of a certain holy virgin called Hirundina, who, they say, was in great esteem for her virtue, having led a solitary life on the Prenestin mountains. This same Redempta had two other young virgins, that came to her to be her disciples ; the name of one of them was Romula ; as for the other, who is still living, I know her by sight, but cannot tell her name. These three virgins lived a very poor but holy life, all in the same house. But Romula outstripped her other companion in all kinds of virtues and graces, as being a woman of wonderful patience, of most perfect obedience, of an extraordinary recollection, a very strict observer of silence, and very much given to prayer and contemplation. But sometimes those who appear perfect in the eyes of men are not without some imperfections before God, as we often see unskilful persons commend a statue, before it is finished, as a complete work, and yet the master, who knows there is much more to be done to it, does not lay it aside, because of their extolling it, nor neglect to finish it, because of their commendation. Almighty God dealt after the same manner with Romula, whom he thought fit to refine and perfect, by afflicting her severely with the palsy, which obliged her to keep her bed for several years without any use of her limbs. All her pains and sufferings could never move her to the least impatience, nay, on the contrary, the want of the use of her limbs made her increase more and more in virtue ; so that, the less able she was to do any thing else, the more she exercised herself in her devotions and prayers. At length she called her mother Redempta to her, who had brought up these two disciples of hers as if they had been her own children, and said to her, ' Come hither, my dear mother, come hither.' Redempta immediately went to her with her other disciple, according to the relation, which they have both of them since made to several persons, so that the thing is now become public, and I myself had an account of it at the time it happened. As they were sitting, about midnight, by her bedside, there appeared a light from heaven on a sudden, which filled the whole chamber. The brightness of it was so great, that they were astonished at it. Afterwards they heard a noise, as if a great many persons were coming into the cell, so that the door cracked as if it was pressed by the throng. Then they heard many come in, but, through fear and the extraordinary brightness, could see nothing, for their hearts were no less damped with fear than their eyes were dazzled by the light. After this there followed a sweet smell, which comforted and refreshed them as much as the light had frightened them before. They being no longer able to bear with the extraordinary brightness of that light, the sick woman began to cqimfort her mistress, who sat there trembling and shaking, and said, \ Be not afraid, my dear mother, for

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I am not dying yet.' And as she often repeated these words, the light lessened by degrees, till it was quite gone ; but the sweet smell continued still for the space of three days as fresh as when they first smelled it. The third day being over, she called her mistress again, and desired the viaticum, that is, the blessed sacrament ; which, after she had received, Redempta and her other companion were no sooner gone from her bed-side, than they began to hear two choirs of musicians at the entrance of the door, which, as near as they could judge by their voices, consisted of men and women. The men sung psalms, and the women answered them. And whilst they were thus performing the rites of this celestial funeral, this holy soul, leaving the prison of her body, began her journey heavenward, the divine music and fragrancy going away with her, so that the higher she mounted, the less they were perceived here below, till such time as they were both quite lost." Hitherto the words of St. Gregory.

17. Many more examples might be brought to this purpose, but these will suffice to show us how quiet, how sweet, and how easy the death of the just generally is. For though such evident tokens as these are do not always appear, yet, inasmuch as they are all the children of God, and since death is the end of all their mis-eries, and the beginning of that happiness they expect to be rewarded with, they are always, in this extremity, strengthened and encouraged by the help of the Almighty's grace, and by the evidence their own good consciences give in favor of them. Thus the glorious St. Ambrose comforted himself on his deathbed, saying, " I have not lived so as to have any reason to be sorry, that I was ever born ; nor am I afraid to die, because I know I have a favorable Master;" In vita D. Ambrosi. But if any man imagines these favors and graces are incredible, let him reflect on the incomprehensible immensity of God's goodness, the effect of which is to love, honor and favor the good, and he will acknowledge, that all I have here asserted is but little in comparison with what the thing itself is. For if the infinite goodness has stooped so low as to take our flesh, and to die on a cross for the salvation of man ; what greater matter is it to comfort and honor the good when they are dying, since their redemption has cost him so dear ? And what wonder is it, that he should bestow such graces on those persons when they are dying, whom he is to receive into his own house, and to make partakers of his glory when they are dead.

§ III. The Conclusion of the Second Part. — 18. Those we have mentioned are the twelve privileges granted to virtue in this life, and are like the twelve fruits of that most beautiful tree St. John, in his Apocalypse, saw planted by a river-side, which brought forth twelve fruits every year, according to the number of the months. For, next to the Son of God, what other tree could bear such fruit but virtue, which is the tree that brings forth fruits of life and holiness? And what fruits can be more precious than those we have here given an account of? What more delicious fruit than the fatherly care and providence which God has over those that serve him ? What more pleasant than his divine grace, than the light of wisdom, the consolation of the Holy Ghost, the joy of a good conscience, the help of a secure confidence in him, the true liberty of the soul, the inward peace of the heart, the being heard by him in our prayers, the being consoled by him in our tribulations, the having of our temporal necessities supplied, and, in fine, the comfort of a sweet and quiet death at last? Any one of these privileges is doubtless so great in itself, that, were a man but thoroughly acquainted with it, he would need no other motive to embrace virtue and make a change of life. This alone would sufficiently convince him of the truth of that saying of our Saviour, " That whosoever should leave the world for the love of him, should receive even in this life a hundred fold, and hereafter life everlasting" (Mark x. 29), as has been shown above.

19. Consider what good this is we invite you to. Think whether you would have any cause to repent, should you quit all the things of the world for it. The only reason why it is not valued by the wicked is because they know not its value. Therefore, the Saviour of the world said, " That the kingdom of heaven was like a hidden treasure" (Matt. xiii. 44) ; for it is a real treasure, but hidden from others, not from the owner. The prophet understood the value of this treasure, when he said, " My secret is for myself, my secret is for myself;" Isa. xxiv. He did not much care whether others knew of his happiness. For this is not like other goods, which are not goods unless they are known ; because, being in themselves no longer goods than whilst the opinion of the world makes them such, it is requisite the world should know them, or else they will never have so much as the name of goods. But this good on the contrary, makes him good and happy that possesses it ; and though none but himself know of it, yet he has as much true comfort and satisfaction with it, as if all the world knew it.

20. But neither my tongue, nor all that has hitherto been said, is sufficient to unfold this secret ; because all that the tongue of man is able to express falls far short of what it truly is , The only key, therefore, to explain it, is the divine light, and the long experience and use of virtue. Beg this light of our Lord, and you will soon find this treasure and God himself, in whom you will find all things ; and you will see with how much reason the prophet said, "Blessed is the people that have God for their Lord"

(Ps. cxliii.) ; for what can he want, that is in possession of this good ? We read in the first book of Kings, that Halcanah, Samuel's father, seeing his wife Anne troubled, because she had no children, said to her, " Anne, what makes you weep ? Why is your heart troubled ? Am I not worth to you more than ten children ?" 1 Kings i. Now if a loving husband, who to-day is, and to-morrow is not, be worth more to his wife than ten children, how much more must God be worth, do you think, to the soul that really possesses him ? Blind and senseless men ! what is it you do ? What is it you are about ? What is it you seek after ? Why do you leave the fountain of paradise for the muddy lakes of this world ? Why do you not take the advice of the prophet along with you, when he says, " Taste and see how sweet the Lord is ?" Ps. xxxiii. 8. Why will you not once at least try this food ? Why will you not taste this meat ? Do but believe what God has said, do but once begin, and you will find yourselves undeceived of all your errors as soon as ever you enter into this path, as soon as ever you take this business in hand. The serpent, Moses' rod was turned into, looked frightful at a distance, but, as soon as he touched it with his hand, became a harmless rod again ; Exod. vii. It was not without reason, that Solomon said, " It is dear, it is dear, says the buyer ; but when he has got the goods into his own hands he is glad of the bargain ;" Prov. xx. This happens every day to men in this sort of purchase, for they, through their want of skill in spiritual affairs, are at first ignorant of the value of this commodity, and, therefore, think it is set at too great a price, because they are carnal. But when once they have tasted how sweet the Lord is, they are immediately pleased with their purchase, and confess a man can never give too much for so great a treasure. How glad was the man in the gospel, that he sold all his estate to purchase that piece of ground in which he found a treasure ! Matt. xiii. 24. Can the Christian, then, who has heard of the name of this good, not so much as try what it is ? It is strange, that if a merry companion should afhrm to you, that a great treasure was hid in some part of your house, you would not fail to dig there to discover the truth, and yet, when you are assured by the infallible word of Almighty God himself, that you may find an inestimable treasure within your own breast, you have not the courage or will not take the pains to look for it. O that you did but know how much truer this news is, and how much greater this treasure ! O that you did but know with how little trouble you might find it ! O that you did but see, " How near the Lord is to those that call upon him, if they call upon him in truth !" Ps. cxliv. 19. How many men have there been in the world, who, by a true sorrow for their sins and begging pardon for them, have, in less than a week's time, discovered land, or rather have found out a new heaven and a new earth, and have begun to perceive the kingdom of God within themselves ! And what wonder is it, that the Lord, who has said, " In whatsoever hour the sinner shall be sorry for his sin, I will remember it no longer" (Luke xv.), should work such an effect as this is ? What wonder is it to see him do this, who scarce gave the prodigal son leave to make an end of the short prayer he had studied, before he fell about his neck, embraced, and received him with so much joy and welcome return? Return, therefore, to this tender father : rise a little in the morning, and continue for some days to beg and cry at" the gates of his mercy, and assure yourself, that if you persevere with humility, he will answer you at last, and discover the hidden treasure of his love to you ; and after having had some proof of it, you will immediately cry out, with the spouse in the Canticles, " If a man should give all that he is worth for love alone, he would think what he has given as worth nothing ;" Cant. viii.

THE

SINNER'S GUIDE.