He who has learned to pray has learned the greatest secret of a holy and happy life.

He who has learned to pray has learned the greatest secret of a holy and happy life.

Feast of Christina Rossetti, Poet, 1894 At morn I plucked a rose and give it Thee, A rose of joy read more

Feast of Christina Rossetti, Poet, 1894 At morn I plucked a rose and give it Thee, A rose of joy and happy love and peace, A rose with scarce a thorn: But in the chillness of a second morn My rose bush drooped, and all its gay increase Was but one thorn that wounded me. I plucked the thorn and offered it to Thee, And for my thorn Thou gavest love and peace, Not joy this mortal morn: If Thou hast given much treasure for a thorn, Wilt Thou not give me for my rose increase Of gladness, and all sweets to me? My thorny rose, my love and pain, to Thee I offer, and I set my heart in peace, And rest upon my thorn: For verily I think to-morrow morn Shall bring me Paradise, my gift's increase, Yea, give Thy very Self to me.

I cannot think that God would be content To view unmoved the toiling and the strain, The groaning read more

I cannot think that God would be content To view unmoved the toiling and the strain, The groaning of the ages, sick and spent, The whole creation travailing in pain. The suffering God is no vast cosmic force, That by some blind, unthinking, loveless power Keeps stars and atoms swinging in their course, And reckons naught of men in this grim hour. Nor is the suffering God a fair ideal Engendered in the questioning hearts of men, A figment of the mind to help me steel My soul to rude realities I ken. God suffers with a love that cleanses dross; A God like that, I see upon a cross.

That no obedience but a perfect one will satisfy God, I hold with all my heart and strength; but that read more

That no obedience but a perfect one will satisfy God, I hold with all my heart and strength; but that there is none else that He cares for, is one of the lies of the enemy. What father is not pleased with the first tottering attempt of his little one to walk? What father would be satisfied with anything but the manly step of the full-grown son?

It seems to be very hard and -- if that would do any good -- might be a just matter read more

It seems to be very hard and -- if that would do any good -- might be a just matter of complaint, that we are fallen into so profane and skeptical an age, which takes a pleasure and a pride in unraveling almost all the received principles both of religion and reason, so that we are put many times to prove those things which can hardly be made plainer than they are of themselves.

Each of these foregoing states has its time, its variety of workings, its trials, temptations, and purifications, which can only read more

Each of these foregoing states has its time, its variety of workings, its trials, temptations, and purifications, which can only be known by experience in the passage through them. The one only and infallible way to go safely through all the difficulties, trials, temptations, dryness, or opposition of our own evil tempers is this: It is to expect nothing from ourselves, to trust to nothing in ourselves, but in everything to expect and depend upon God for relief. Keep fast hold of this thread, and then let your way be what it will -- darkness, temptation, or the rebellion of nature -- you will be led through it all, to an union with God: for nothing hurts us in any state but an expectation of some thing in it and from it, which we should only expect from God. (Continued tomorrow).

Feast of Catherine of Siena, Mystic, Teacher, 1380 O abyss, O eternal Godhead, O sea profound, what more read more

Feast of Catherine of Siena, Mystic, Teacher, 1380 O abyss, O eternal Godhead, O sea profound, what more could you give me than yourself? You are the fire that burns without being consumed; you consume in your heat all the soul's self-love; you are the fire which takes away cold; with your light you illuminate me so that I may know all your truth. Clothe me, clothe me with yourself, eternal truth, so that I may run this mortal life with true obedience, and with the light of your most holy faith.

Our calling is not primarily to be holy women, but to work for God and for others with Him. Our read more

Our calling is not primarily to be holy women, but to work for God and for others with Him. Our holiness is an effect, not a cause; as long as our eyes are on our own personal whiteness as an end in itself, the thing breaks down. God can do nothing while my interest is in my personal character--He will take care of this if I obey His call. In learning to love God and people as He commanded us to do, obviously your sanctification cannot but come, but not as an end in itself.

Commemoration of Clement, Bishop of Rome, Martyr, c.100 What exactly has Christ done for you? What is there read more

Commemoration of Clement, Bishop of Rome, Martyr, c.100 What exactly has Christ done for you? What is there in your life that needs Christ to explain it, and that, apart from Him, simply could not have been there at all? If there is nothing, then your religion is a sheer futility. But then that is your fault, not Jesus Christ's. For, when we open the New Testament, it is to come upon whole companies of excited people, their faces all aglow, their hearts dazed and bewildered by the immensity of their own good fortune. Apparently they find it difficult to think of anything but this amazing happening that has befallen them; quite certainly they cannot keep from laying almost violent hands on every chance passer-by, and pouring out yet once again the whole astounding story. And always, as we listen, they keep throwing up their hands as if in sheer despair, telling us it is hopeless, that it breaks through language, that it won't describe, that until a man has known Christ for himself he can have no idea of the enormous difference He makes. It is as when a woman gives a man her heart; or when a little one is born to very you; or when, after long lean years of pain and greyness, health comes back. You cannot really describe that; you cannot put it into words, not adequately. Only, the whole world is different, and life gloriously new. Well, it is like that, they say.