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Chapter II

Of Fervour in Meditation

There is no more efficacious remedy against vice, no more excellent means of acquiring virtue, no more invincible weapon for conquering the efforts of hell, than prayer. St. Nilus, writing to Anastasia, says that the devil directs all his temptations, lays all his snares, in order to prevent meditation or to render the practice of it difficult, or even to induce us to relinquish the habit of and acquire a disrelish for it. He knows that, if he obtains this result, he will have carried away the corner-stone of our spiritual edifice. To avert so dire a misfortune let us reflect on the injury or profit that redounds to us from prayer, according as we make it with negligence or fervour. Having thus convinced ourselves of the necessity of acquitting ourselves well of this exercise, we will, in the first place, endeavour to discover the obstacles which would hinder us from profiting by it, and afterwards the means of performing it with fruit.

Article I

Of the injury that redounds to us from negligence in Meditation

1. It prevents our advancement in virtue

We really advance in virtue only in proportion as we are advanced in prayer, and whoever performs this exercise with only a mediocre fervour has every reason to apprehend that he has made but little progress in perfection. This is not an individual opinion; it is the doctrine of the Fathers, and is confirmed by daily experience.

St. John Climacus judged by his morning meditation what would be the success of the remainder of the day. Nor was he wrong; for it is certain that as is our prayer, such usually are our entire days and even our whole life. In effect, at the close of a fervent prayer, we apply ourselves to good with alacrity and joy, we relish the happiness of recollection, and above all, we experience interior peace which imparts life and perfection to our works, and by these sweet impressions elevates our soul to the highest sanctity: but on the contrary, tepidity in meditation induces a most pernicious repugnance to divine things, a languor and benumbing lethargy for good, an outpouring of our soul on exterior objects, and finally, blindness, disquietude, and aridity.

Then temptations multiply, holy resolutions vanish, evil propensities grow stronger, the propensities of voluptuousness, anger, ambition, envy reawaken; disgusted by tepidity, we retrograde, and lose more of our virtue in one day than we had acquired in many months. This it is that made St. John Chrysostom say: ‘When I behold a Christian or a religious relax in meditation, and no longer deem it of importance, I augur that he is very weak in virtue, and but scantily adorned with the gifts of God; but when I see him devoted to this holy exercise, I immediately conclude that he is enriched with the most precious graces.’ He who does not regard meditation as the first means of acquiring virtue shall make no progress, in vain will he substitute other practices and attempt another route to advance in perfection.

Would we then learn the state of our soul, and at a single glance render ourselves an account of our conscience, let us examine how we make our meditation, and the result will show us to a certainty what we are in the sight of God.

There shall always be a perfect harmony between this salutary exercise and our progress in sanctity; for one lives badly when he is in the habit of praying badly, just as a person has found ‘the secret of living well,’ says St. Augustine, ‘when he has learned to pray well.’

The very nature of prayer is a proof of this truth, for we cannot be perfect except by always doing what God wishes and in the way He wishes. Now, it is in prayer that our mind learns the divine will and that our will inclines to follow it. To abandon meditation, therefore, is obviously to renounce perfection. The flight of evil and the practice of good are, so to say, the two spiritual feet with which we advance in the paths of justice; but how remain firm in this way of aversion for worldly objects, and an unalloyed affection for heavenly things, if we cease to meditate, to study, and to taste in meditation the motives calculated to sustain our courage?

Meditation is ‘a burning and unspotted mirror,’1 in which the rays of grace are faithfully reflected, in order to diffuse their lustre and warmth into the soul engaged in prayer, ‘that it may know to refuse evil and to choose the good;’2 but if we dim, if we break this mirror, our soul shall inevitably fall into frightful darkness and into a deadly torpor.

Alas! I have made no, or at least but very little, progress in virtue, owing to my not having made meditation, or to my having fulfilled this virtue with tepidity. ‘My heart is withered,’ as grass, ‘because I forgot to eat my bread.’3

‘My spirit hath fainted away,’4 because ‘the manna ceased.’5 All the virtues I possessed have faded away, because unrefreshed by the salutary dew of morning meditation. Deprived of the sacred flame, from which it derived its life, my heart has become gelid, whilst my rebellious passions, on the contrary, ‘burn like fire among thorns,’6 ‘because no water from on high’7 has extinguished their ardour. My spiritual advancement is at an end, unless the spirit of prayer reanimate my soul. Grant me, then, the grace, O my God, ‘that’ every day ‘my eyes to Thee may prevent the morning, that I may meditate on Thy words’8 with true fervour.

2. It prevents our producing fruit in souls

Even though a man should be endowed with the happiest natural gifts and the most brilliant qualities, still, should he allow his fervour in meditation to abate, he is ‘but sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.’9

The most perfect implement is useless for labour without the hand of the workman, and however good a pen may be, unless guided by a writer, never can it form a letter.

‘We are God’s coadjutors,’10 the instruments He has chosen to concur with Him in the salvation of our neighbour. Now, it is in prayer that we place ourselves as a docile instrument in His hands, to act according to His will, under the direction of obedience. In abandoning this exercise, therefore, we incapacitate ourselves for so holy a work.

Though ‘the tongue’ of the preacher should obey him as ‘the pen of a scrivener that writeth swiftly,’11 still if he do not confide himself to the guidance of the Almighty, by fervent prayer, never shall he inscribe one name in the Book of Life; and should any of his audience be converted, this success should be attributed, not to his sermons, but to the prayers of some more faithful soul.

Let us peruse the lives of the saints and we shall find that no one was ever successful in leading sinners back to virtue without having been devoted to prayer. The reason of the little fruit wrought in souls at present, notwithstanding the number of labourers whom our Lord has sent into His vineyard, is that they meditate but rarely. Formerly one sufficed to convert towns and entire provinces; and in our times several are insufficient to maintain piety in the smallest country.

Once more, the real secret of their ill-success is that they speak much and pray little, and that tepidly; consequently they produce no amendment of morals. They are powerless for good, because they have deliberately deprived themselves of the graces necessary for its accomplishment.

Preacher of the Gospel! without help from on high, never shalt thou snatch thy brethren from perdition. ‘Though Apollo should water, though Paul himself should plant,’ if ‘God give not the increase’12 ‘thou spendest thyself in foolish labour, the business is above thy strength.’13 Now, prayer, according to St. Thomas14 and all theologians, is the condition without which this help shall not be granted you.

Jesus Christ Himself, as we learn from these words of the Royal Prophet, ‘Ask of me, and I will give Thee the Gentiles for Thy inheritance,’15 was obliged to merit the salvation of the human race by the sanctity and fervour of His prayers. What! to move the Eternal Father to pity, it was necessary for His Son to become a suppliant! Ah! what ought not man to do, who is but a servant of God?

To be of use to our fellow-creatures, therefore, our conversation must be frequently in heaven. Hence it is that spiritual authors affirm that to labour fruitfully for the salvation of souls, one has more need to pray than to study, and that to speak effectively of God to men he must himself, in the first instance, commune frequently with God. Unless our soul is an altar, on which incense burns, never will the Lord render ‘our voice a strong and mighty voice to break the cedars of Lebanon.’16 Had not St. Stephen prayed, never would the Church have possessed St. Paul; had not our Lord prayed, the faith of Peter would not have been confirmed.17 If we besiege heaven by the fervour and assiduity of our prayers, possibly we may number instances of a Paul converted and a Peter strengthened in the faith. Oh, what a sad spectacle for your angel guardian, if you who read these words ‘destroy,’ by your tepidity in prayer, your brother, ‘for whom Jesus Christ died;’18 that is to say, if in punishment of your negligence in prayer Divine Providence withdraw those efficacious graces, which might have converted some one of your auditors, your penitents, your pupils, those confided to your care! Unfortunate man! what reply will you make when an angry God shall one day demand from you an account of these souls, and when they themselves shall invoke upon you all the terrors of His justice?

Oh, Guardian Spirit of my soul! obtain that henceforth ‘the fire’ of meditation ‘shall always burn on the altar’ of my heart, and that I may carefully ‘feed it’ ‘by putting’ the mysterious ‘wood’19 of holy consideration ‘on it every morning.’

3. It exposes us to the proximate danger of losing the grace of God and our religious vocation

A religious who does not love prayer is on the verge of falling into great faults and abandoning his holy vocation. This is a truth which heaven, earth, and hell unanimously testify. Yes, it is attested by the blessed in heaven, by the damned in hell, and by the dying on their bed of suffering; it is, moreover, confirmed by reason, experience, and the most irrefragable authority.

Pope St. Zozimus, in his dogmatical letter to the bishops of Gaul, teaches that ‘no one, not even excepting those who have been regenerated by the grace of baptism, is capable of avoiding the snares of the devil and vanquishing the temptations of the flesh, without a particular assistance from God, which would enable him to persevere to the end in the practice of a holy life.’ The Council of Trent inculcates the same doctrine in the following terms: ‘If anyone say . . . . that he who has been justified can, without special help from God, persevere in the justice he has received, let him be anathema.’20

It is, therefore, an article of faith that, without special aid from God, the just man can neither persevere in grace nor resist temptations, nor escape the ambushes of Satan.

Prayer is the channel through which this heavenly aid flows to us, and is, according to the ordinary dispensations of Providence, the indispensable condition for its being granted to us; it is the necessary means chosen by the divine wisdom, without which we will not merit the grace to persevere in justice.

Jesus Christ certifies this to us by these words: ‘Pray that you enter not into temptation,’21 as if He said, remark the Fathers, pray, if you would not succumb to temptation. ‘We should close our ears,’ says St. Augustine, ‘to the assertions of the blasphemer, who would have us believe that it would be possible to avoid temptation without recurring to prayer, and all the faithful are bound to anathematise this doctrine.’ ‘In vain,’ says Innocent I., ‘should we endeavour to gain the victory, unless grace, attracted by the fervour of our prayers, come to our assistance.’22

It is true, therefore, that the just man, however exempt he may be from mortal sin, shall never persevere constantly in the friendship of God, unless sustained by help from on high; and that this help is granted to such only as apply to meditation; consequently, the moment we give up this exercise, we expose ourselves to the danger of falling from a state of grace, and even to a second misfortune, which is the consequence of this, the loss of our religious vocation.

The authors whom we have just quoted speak only of prayer in general, and not explicitly of mental prayer or meditation; but the sad and frequent experience of all ages has repeatedly proved that their testimony should likewise extend to the exercise of meditation in particular, especially as regards religious, and I venture to assert still more so, with reference to those of our society.

Alas! how many examples might we not adduce of religious who, having had the misfortune to give up meditation, afterwards fell into great sins, abandoned their holy state, sometimes even apostatised from the faith!

Nor should those desolating results surprise us; for meditation is the source of those lights which manifest to our understanding, in the most vivid and striking colours, the heinousness of sin, the severity of judgment, and the intolerable pains of hell; it awakens and preserves the pious sentiments which induce the will to embrace what is good and shun what is evil; but when the fire of meditation becomes extinct, our understanding necessarily becomes obscured and our will frozen.

‘A religious,’ says St. Thomas, ‘deprived of this spiritual armour is a soldier bereft of strength and shelter.’23 There is every reason to apprehend that when the night of temptation envelops him in its shades he shall strike his foot against some rock of scandal, when being already so enfeebled, he will experience a terrible fall. Who can promise but that, disgusted with a regular life and fascinated by a love of freedom, he may yield at length to a violent temptation and despoil himself of the holy habit of religion to return to the world?

Lancisius is not unsupported by experience, therefore, when he certifies that all religious who fall into any great sin, who abandon their state, who scandalise the Church, have begun by giving up meditation, or at least abridging the time of it, or performing it slothfully, and solely for the sake of appearance. Negligence in this holy exercise is detrimental, not alone to individuals: ‘it only needs relaxation in meditation,’ says St. Bonaventure, ‘to cause a religious order to fall from its primitive fervour, and eventually lose it altogether.’

Let us profit by the misfortune of others and become wise at last. Though we be religious, we may sin grievously and lose our vocation; if we fear sin let us pray; if we dread a shameful apostasy let us also pray; let us daily pray and meditate with great fervour, in order to avoid these two catastrophes which menace us; for if our prayer ascend not to heaven the mercy of God will not descend upon us.

Oh! could we but glance into the abysses of hell and ask of the religious incarcerated therein the cause of their damnation, they would all reply, in their despair, alas! it was our carelessness in making meditation which precipitated us into these flames.

Oh, slothful soul, despite their tardy regrets, you continue insensible, you are not more fervent in prayer! You are admonished that your carelessness is conducting you straight to hell, and still you sleep in it. You know that it is the source of the most dangerous temptations, and yet you indulge it.

Satan is unremitting in his efforts to make you omit meditation, or at least to curtail it, and yield to distractions; and you take no precautions against his machinations: you obey him as the horse obeys its rider.

Imprudent soul! despise not the friendship of God; squander not, I implore you by the wounds of Jesus Christ, the grace which His precious Blood has merited for you, trample not under foot the vocation which is the pledge of your heavenly predestination. Make not so stupendous a sacrifice to gratify your sensuality and sloth, or for the sake of trifles: for what else are those vain occupations which you prefer to prayer?

Close not your ears to the entreaties of the Holy Ghost, lest God be one day deaf to your cries, and say to you: ‘I called you’ by meditation to intimate familiarity with me, and ‘you refused’ to listen to me; ‘I stretched out my hand’ to assist you: I taught you how to meditate and provided you with suitable books, and time for doing so; I led you into solitude, and ‘you did not regard me; you despised all my counsel’ and the reproaches I made you concerning your sloth. Now all is changed. ‘I will laugh’ in my turn, ‘in the destruction’ which you have brought upon yourself. ‘I will mock when that shall come to you which you feared;’ when, fallen into mortal sin, you shall be on the point of losing your vocation; when, a traitor to your sacred engagements, ‘a sudden calamity shall fall on you, and destruction, as a tempest, shall come upon you. I will laugh and will mock because you have despised’ religious ‘discipline,’24 which made meditation a duty of such imperative obligation.

‘My God, whose wrath no man can resist,’25 ‘Thy terrors have troubled me.’26 Alas! to what an abyss has not my tepidity in prayer conducted me . . . but I adore the hand that leads me back. ‘I will meditate on Thee in the morning.’27 ‘I will think of Thy justifications.’28 I will make them my daily study. Grant, Lord, that every day ‘in my meditation a fire shall flame out,’29 and ‘let my prayer be directed as incense in Thy sight.’30

Article II

On the advantages of fervour in meditation

1. It heals all the maladies of our understanding and our will

So great is our imperfection that ignorance of spiritual things, erroneous maxims in morality, false ideas of virtue, depraved thoughts and imaginations, are the sad inheritance of our understanding, whilst our will is subject to the passions of envy, impurity, pride, anger, sadness, concupiscence of the flesh, and numberless other temptations: meditation is a universal antidote against all these evils. Its light liberates our understanding from the thraldom of false opinions and the darkness of error; it penetrates it with eternal truths, and fills it with divine knowledge: its unction fortifies our will against the tyranny of the passions and the assaults of the devil; it accustoms it to ‘rule’ the irregular desires of the heart with a ‘rod of iron.’31

Meditation protects us against all the enemies of our salvation: it is a city of refuge, where we are sheltered from the attacks of hell; the heavenly antidote which cures us of the poison of self-love; the beneficent star which enlightens us on the stormy sea of the world, and directs us towards the port; in a word, meditation is the best remedy for the evils which perpetually tend to enslave our understanding and our will.

However, its utility is not confined to these advantages, precious as they are; for souls that have their spiritual interests really at heart fear nothing so much as to stand still in virtue, to be useless for the salvation of their neighbour and exposed to the danger of losing the grace of God and the religious vocation; now mental prayer, like a strong army, triumphs over this triple enemy. It obtains for us those succours from on high, those efficacious graces which cause us to advance in perfection, to labour with fruit for the good of souls, and, lastly, to avoid mortal sin and the loss of our vocation.

Spiritual tepidity is a pernicious disease, a dreadful enemy of the soul; it is the ‘worm’ concealed under the religious habit itself, which ‘consumes’32 the innocence of an heir of heaven and saps the foundations of piety; it is the demon which frequently causes man to fall into impurity, which afterwards casts him into despair, and renders ‘his cure extremely difficult.’33 Yet even this species of ‘satanic possession’34 yields to the power of prayer.

Let us conclude with these exhortations of the Holy Ghost: ‘Is any of you sad’ in temptation, ‘weariness,’ or anxiety, ‘let him pray;’35 does he desire to advance in virtue, ‘to make his calling and election sure;’36 let him pray; but let him pray with respect, with fervour, and with perseverance, and he will assuredly find the remedy for his evils. Jesus Christ has pledged Himself to this. ‘Ask,’ says He, ‘and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you; for every one that asketh receiveth, and he that seeketh findeth, and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.’37 What more magnificent promises could be made to prayer, what higher eulogium could be bestowed on its efficacy?

Oh, how rigorous shall be the account which we must one day render for having, through sloth, neglected so easy a means of averting so many evils! How great is our folly! We do not employ efficacious remedies when there is a question of the evils of our soul, while we are so solicitous to relieve the sufferings of our body.

We remain ‘on the brink of the probatic well;’38 we are seated at ‘the fountain’ of ‘wisdom;’39 we repose beneath the shadow of the ‘tree of life,’40 that is, we enjoy all possible facilities for meditation, and yet we give up this holy exercise; we relinquish it through indifference, unsolicited, or rather when conscience and obedience combine to render it obligatory on us.

2. It is an exhaustless source of spiritual lights and holy consolations

Not only is meditation a preservative against all spiritual evils, but it likewise enriches our soul with the most precious gifts. It floods the mind with light, and seems to communicate to it the splendour of the Sun of Justice. ‘The King’ of heaven, taking by the hand, so to speak, the Christian that is faithful and fervent in meditation, leads him Himself into His store-rooms,41 ‘wherein are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.’42 There He replenishes his soul ‘with all the riches and fulness of understanding unto the knowledge of the mystery of God and the Father of Christ Jesus.’43 He manifests to him with admirable clearness the incomprehensible beauty of His infinite perfections, the eminent prerogatives of the God-man, the adorable counsels of Divine Providence ‘compared with which the loftiest science is but ignorance.’44

Thus it was that St. Francis of Assisium, St. Teresa, St. Felix of Cantalice, St. Nicholas Tolentine, and a host of pious persons of all conditions, acquired by prayer alone, unaided by study, more perfect knowledge of the things of God than the most enlightened theologians. ‘Ignorant persons rise up,’ says St. Augustine, ‘and bear away heaven;’ they penetrate by meditation to the centre of the holy city, ‘and we, with all our learning, remain,’ if not ‘immersed in flesh and blood,’ at least the slaves of a shameful tepidity, which is but too apparent by our carelessness and irreverence in prayer. Such indevotion deserves that ‘the darkness of night should encompass us,’ while ‘the light of the Lord rises’45 for others; so that we remain destitute of understanding in the school of virtue, though we be in other respects esteemed as erudite teachers and doctors. Unhappy man! ‘what avails to thee the brilliancy of thy wit and thy rare facility for penetrating all sciences, if thou followest a wrong route in the study of piety?’44 ‘If thou didst know the whole scripture by heart and the sayings of all the philosophers, what would it profit thee,’46 if thou didst not know thyself? ‘If thou didst know all things that are in the world, what would it avail thee in the sight of God, who will judge thee according to thy deeds;’47 and who will ask thee what good thou hast done, and not what learning thou hast acquired? ‘A lowly rustic that serveth God,’ a poor woman who prays devoutly, ‘is better than a proud philosopher who pondereth the course of the stars, and neglecteth his salvation;’48 since the value of a single ray of supernatural light obtained in prayer infinitely transcends all human wisdom; it is more capable of satisfying and satiating our soul than the greatest proficiency in the most useful and ingenious arts. Is it not folly to devote, to the prejudice of our health, so many days, weeks, months, and years to profane studies, and sacrifice to them even a portion of the few short moments of meditation, and to be unable to employ one hour faithfully in acquiring the science of the saints, which alone can render us happy? Perhaps you will allege that you study in order that you may be a more competent instrument for promoting the glory of God. But, in adducing such an excuse, iniquity can but lie to itself, for, replies the apostle, ‘God hath made us fit ministers of the New Testament, not in the letter, but in the spirit, for the letter killeth, but the spirit quickeneth.’49 ‘O Fountain of light,’50 ‘may Thy brightness shine at length in the midst of our darkness!’51

But how speak of the holy consolations which the faithful soul receives with a kind of exuberance in prayer? ‘Though I spoke with the tongue of angels,’52 never could I express the ineffable charms of these chaste delights. They are ‘the hidden manna, which nobody knows but he that receiveth it.’53 Often in meditation the soul experiences the truth of the divine promise: ‘I will make them joyful in my house of prayer.’54 So inundated is it with heavenly sweetness that St. Augustine styles mental prayer the paradise of delights, the paradise of spiritual joys, an ocean of peace, into which the heart, inebriated with God, plunges without one sigh of regret for its earthly life, which it would gladly relinquish for ever. Such was the experience of the Anthonys, the Francises of Assisium, the Ignatiuses, the Xaviers, and myriad other saints, who unanimously testify that all the pleasures of the senses, the flesh, and the passions united, are but bitterness compared with one drop of this boundless ocean of delights.

Thy love, O my infinitely good God, ‘is better than’ the perfidious ‘wine,’55 which the devil presents to us in a deceitful cup. The milk of Thy consolations is sweeter than nectar. Thou appealest for this to our own experience. ‘Come,’ dost Thou say, ‘come,’ O mortals! ‘taste, and see that the Lord is sweet.’56 Yes, let us hasten to make the trial, and soon we shall exclaim with the Royal Prophet: ‘How great is the multitude of Thy sweetness, Lord, which Thou hast hidden for them that fear Thee.’57 We shall own with Tertullian that the tears of repentance impart a thousand times more joy than the most seductive pleasures.58 With St. Augustine, we shall be astonished ‘to find that we suddenly experience so much sweetness in severing the dearest ties.’ And yet, fools that we are! till now we have deserted the fountains of living waters to run to broken cisterns; we have despised the hidden manna and sighed for the flesh-pots of Egypt.

Is it not folly to renounce this foretaste of celestial happiness for the sake of gratifying a shameful sloth, which detains us in bed without necessity, and of which we shall be ashamed when we have risen, or to enjoy the pleasures of the table, which compromise our health, or the society of men, which is so often fraught with tedium and disgust?

My God! may that pleasure be changed into bitterness; may those studies, those occupations be accursed, to which I have sacrificed the lights and pure consolations which were reserved for me in meditation.

3. It perfects the soul by the abundance of virtues and the excellence of the graces which it obtains for it

Meditation perfects the soul and enriches it with the most precious spiritual gifts. The soul that prays ill is as ‘a garden without water,’59 but the soul that prays well is ‘a garden’60 always fructified by the celestial dew and adorned with the most exquisite flowers of virtue; it is ‘a fruitful olive-tree;’61 ‘a tree planted near running waters,’62 always laden with heavenly fruit. Nothing causes us to advance with more ‘rapid strides in sanctity than a fervent meditation.’63 By it we are certain of attaining perfection, whilst without its aid never can we do so.

‘The man of prayer,’ says St. John Chrysostom, ‘living in an intimate communication with God, must necessarily become holy.’ This the Psalmist has promised: ‘we become holy, pure, and innocent’64 in the company of a man who is ‘holy,’ pure, and innocent: with how much greater reason must not that soul be spotless which lives in daily familiarity with the Holy of holies?

By meditation ‘the mind of man becomes the spouse of the Increated Truth;’65 ‘it is the contract of a holy and spiritual alliance; it consummates the union of two wills in one, identifying them in their likes and dislikes.’ ‘God,’ says St. Bernard, ‘establishes those who apply to meditation as faithful ministers in His house, to whom He confides the key of His Heart and of His treasures, whence they may draw copiously at all hours.’

St. John Climacus compares and equals them to the angels: ‘their occupation upon earth is similar to that of the angels in heaven.’

What more shall I say? Meditation renders them in some sort omnipotent, since they can effect as much by prayer as God can do by His power. Prayer asks and receives; it seeks and finds, it knocks and the gates of heaven open to it; the man of prayer, like another Jacob, wrestles with God during the dreary night of this life, clinging by the bands of love to this adorable Adversary, nor lets Him go till he has compelled ‘the’ divine ‘Hand to open and fill’ his soul ‘with blessings.’66

‘What,’ cries out St. Augustine, ‘is more beautiful than prayer? What more useful to us? What sweeter to the soul, and more sublime in religion?’ And yet, ‘be astonished, O ye heavens, and ye gates thereof be very desolate.’67 Alas! there are even some religious to be found who have nothing less at heart than meditation. Of all their occupations this it is which they esteem the least, and to which they devote least time; there is no business so unimportant, no hope so forlorn, no amusement so futile, which does not afford them a sufficient plea for omitting this holy exercise, or at least abridging it or performing it carelessly.

The learned Suarez would have preferred to forfeit all his knowledge rather than sacrifice one of the seven hours which he each day spent in meditation. Daniel preferred to be cast into the lions’ den rather than abstain from his wonted religious exercises, while we omit, without scruple, the whole hour’s meditation prescribed by rule, for the sake of study, sleep, sloth, or some equally frivolous reasons, which we would blush were they known.

What shall one day be our confusion when Daniel’s fervour shall be contrasted with our tepidity, when at the tribunal of the Sovereign Judge, and in presence of the entire universe the preparation we have brought to meditation shall be weighed in the balance of the sanctuary. Great heavens! Daniel, a courtier, the royal favourite, receives a severe prohibition to invoke his God, and he prefers to renounce his riches, his honours, nay his very life, rather than give up his accustomed prayers, even for a single day.

And we, bound to meditation by so many motives, by our vocation, and by obedience, exempt from all that could divert us from it, we omit it . . . . not for the purpose of preserving our dignities, our riches, and our life, but through sloth, vanity, or for some slight convenience. . . . We omit it, though we know, though we acknowledge that it is the principal, the necessary means of arriving at true felicity. This it is that consummates the malice of our neglect.

O religious! who attach no importance to this inestimable exercise, enter into yourselves, consider who you are and what you neglect. Heat is not more necessary to life, water is not more indispensable to fish, than meditation is to your soul: destitute of it you are but the phantom of a religious, a dead member, a receptacle of vices, and the sport of hell; and yet you renounce the practice of it.

Meditation is the sinew of virtue, the bulwark of religious discipline; this rampart once destroyed, grace, your vocation, and your salvation are no longer secure. You are not ignorant of these precious prerogatives of so holy an exercise, and yet you dare to yield to sleep during the time allotted for it.

‘All that is estimable here below is inferior to meditation.’68 ‘He that has found the spirit of it has found a treasure.’69 ‘All things that are desired on earth are not to be compared with it.’70 You believe this, and still you abridge, you even omit it for the purest trifles.

How unjust, but, above all, how inexcusable, a behaviour in you, who enrolled yourself in the holy militia, that, in the silence of the cloister, you might give yourself up, with less restraint, to the things of heaven; in you, who are a member of a religious order, whose statutes and rules strenuously prescribe frequent meditation; in you, in fine, who fully comprehend of what injury or advantage this exercise is, according as it is performed with negligence or fidelity. Judge yourself now. Do your knowledge of the value of meditation, and the strict obligation you are under of making it, leave you any exonerating pretext for your sloth, or rather, do they not compel you to own that it is truly deserving of chastisement?

Be astonished at ‘your happiness in being able to commune with God, to converse with Jesus Christ, as often and as long as you please, to be empowered to ask all that you need and to obtain what you ask;’71 ‘to obtain,’ says St. Bonaventure, ‘a good which exceeds the entire universe in value!’ Reflect, also, what an honour is conferred on you in being admitted at all hours into the very sanctuary of the adorable Trinity, without fear of a repulse, since, on the contrary, a formal promise and an express command encourage and oblige you to pray! To deprive yourself of so many favours through indifference is an unpardonable folly. Vile clay! the devils envy thy fate, the saints congratulate thee on it, the angels are in an ecstasy; thou alone esteemest it not!

Did an earthly monarch desire to converse with thee, wouldst thou delay accepting his invitation? The King of kings, the Lord of lords, invites thee to commune with Him, and thou refusest! By the sound of the bell the heavenly Bridegroom says to thy soul: ‘Arise, make haste, my beloved, my dove, and come,’72 and thou turnest a deaf ear to His voice! He offers thee His richest treasures; He desires to dispense to thee a profusion of His gifts, provided thou makest mental prayer, and thy tepidity resists His goodness! O Seraphim, veil your faces with your wings, that you behold not our culpable contempt of an exercise so useful and so honourable to man.

But you say ‘I have not time.’ Vain excuse! Time is not wanting to you for walking, play, trifles, sleep, recreation, and not one hour remains to you for thinking of God, of your soul, of eternity! You each day find time to spend in pampering a body, which must one day putrefy and become the food of worms, and you cannot consecrate a moment to meditation, to the nourishment of your immortal soul? Ah! take heed lest grace fail you at length.

Divine Saviour, who hast so forcibly inculcated on Thy apostles the necessity of prayer, banish from our hearts everything that is an obstacle to this holy exercise! Grant us grace henceforth to burn with fervour in meditation, thus to reap the fruit promised to fidelity to this holy exercise, that we may never experience the misfortunes which would be the chastisement of our negligence.

Notes

  1. Wisd. vii. 26.

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  2. Isaias vii. 26.

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  3. Ps. ci. 5.

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  4. Ibid. cxlii. 7.

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  5. Josue v. 12.

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  6. Ps. cxvii. 12.

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  7. Josue xv. 19.

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  8. Ps. cxviii. 148.

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  9. 1 Cor. xiii. 1.

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  10. 1 Cor. iii. 9.

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  11. Ps. xliv. 2.

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  12. 1 Cor. iii. 6.

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  13. Exod. xviii. 18.

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  14. ‘It is necessary to pray in order to obtain from the goodness of God those things which, according to the arrangements of His divine wisdom, He has resolved to grant us.’—2. 2, q. 8, a. 2.

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  15. Ps. ii. 8.

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  16. Ps. lxvii. 36.

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  17. ‘Simon, Simon, I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not.’—Luke xxii. 32.

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  18. Rom. xiv. 15.

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  19. Levit. vi. 12.

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  20. Sess. vi. can. 22.

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  21. Matt. xxvi. 41.

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  22. Letter to Counc. of Carthage.

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  23. His Life.

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  24. Prov. i. 24 and fol.

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  25. Job ix. 13.

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  26. Ps. lxxxvii. 17.

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  27. Ibid. lxii. 7.

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  28. Ibid. cxviii. 16.

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  29. Ibid. xxxviii. 4.

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  30. Ibid. cxl. 2.

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  31. Ibid. ii. 9.

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  32. Matt. vi. 19.

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  33. Matt. xvii. 15.

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  34. 2 Kings xix. 22.

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  35. James v. 13.

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  36. 2 Pet. i. 10.

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  37. Matt. vii. 7.

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  38. John v. 2.

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  39. Prov. xviii. 4.

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  40. Gen. xviii. 4.

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  41. Cant. i. 3.

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  42. Coloss. ii. 3.

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  43. Coloss. ii. 2.

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  44. St. Aug. Conf.

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  45. Isaias lx. 2.

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  46. Imit. b. i. ch. i.

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  47. Imit. b. i. ch. ii.

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  48. Ibid.

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  49. 2 Cor. iii. 6.

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  50. Josue xviii. 17.

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  51. Isaias lviii. 10.

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  52. 1 Cor. xiii. 1.

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  53. Apoc. ii. 17.

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  54. Isaias lvi. 7.

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  55. Cant. i. 2.

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  56. Ps. xxxiii. 9.

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  57. Ps. xxx. 20.

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  58. Book on Penance.

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  59. Isaias i. 30.

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  60. Isaias lviii. 11.

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  61. Ps. li. 10.

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  62. Ps. i. 3.

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  63. St. John Chrys. Hom.

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  64. Ps. xvii. 26.

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  65. Wm. of Auvergne.

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  66. Ps. cxliv. 16.

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  67. Jerem. ii. 12.

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  68. St. Greg. of Niss.

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  69. Eccli. vi. 14.

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  70. Prov. iii. 15.

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  71. St. Chrys.

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  72. Cant. ii. 10.

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