PRACTICAL DISCOURSES, EXHORTATIONS, SERMONS Vofutue oj 7 tSetuiowd id repect^ufl^ tudcxt^eO BY THEIR HUMBLE BROTHER IN CHRIST, JOHN WALSH, WITH A BELIEF THAT IT WILL BE CONSIDERED BY THEM AS A MONUMENT TO THE MEMORY OF THE ACCOMPLISHED PREACHER, THE REV. NICHOLAS MOLLOY, \ EJUBDEM ORDIKIS. INTRODUCTION, The following pages contain several important Sermons, with some remaining fragments, of one of the most eminent and gifted preachers of his time, — the Rev. Nicholas Molloy, O.S.A. It would he a well-merited reproach to the Order of St. Augustine, of which he was so bright an ornament, to let such manuscript trea- sures lie mouldering and neglected in undeserved obscurity. Perhaps, if not soon saved from the moths and the ravages of time, they would be for ever lost to the Church, the faithful, and posterity. This celebrated orator studied philosophy and publicly defended theses with great eclat in Rome, under the excellent auspices of the Very Rev. George Staunton, O.S.A., then Rector of the College of St. Matthew in Merulana. Soon after his return to Ireland, he began to display those talents which gained for him the reputation of being one of the most eloquent and impressive sacred orators of which the Catho- lic Church had then to boast. From the specimens here submitted to the public, it is evident, that as a preacher, he possessed an unction, an imagination, a pathos, a clearness, and a power, rarely united in one and the same individual. The subjoined Dedicatory Epistle of a learned and venerable Father of his Order in Italy, will give some idea of the extent and direction of his highly cultivated mind, even at that early period of his literary career. But what must have been the amount of his judgment, elo- quence, and learning, when, ten or fifteen years after, in the zenith of his glory, he delivered those beautiful orations on the most moving and important of all topics ! VI “ To the Rev. Nicholas Molloy, O.S.A., Actual Lector in the Irish Angus- tinian Convent of St. Matthew in Rome , and Member of the Convent of Dublin. “ Reverend and dear Friend, “ As I have now completed, so far as my slender abilities allowed me, the * Miscellaneous Collection of English Literature,’ in reference to which I wrote to you some time ago, I think myself more than repaid for my labour, whilst I have the honour of dedicating it to a friend like you, who have so much distinguished yourself in Italy by your acquaintance with both foreign and domestic literature,* and still more by your profound knowledge of the English language, of which many compositions, in prose and verse, bear a striking testimony. These have been applauded by the most eloquent orators and celebrated poets ; but particularly by a female friend, who is the honour of her sex and the glory of Italy, Signora Fortunata Sulgher Fantastici, who, by her poetical genius, has rendered herself conspicuous in the literary world, and far outstrips the remainder of her countrywomen. “ Yes, my friend, these noble qualifications, united to your very particular knowledge of philosophy and theology, were the motives which determined the Most Rev. General of the Augustinian Order to promote you to the honourable degree of * Lector in both Sciences,’ and induced the principal Academies of Italy to enrol you as a member. “As to your social virtues, I will only say, that they have rendered you dear to every person who has had the good fortune to be acquainted with you, and all Italy laments your departure. “ But it is now time that your native country should enjoy you and benefit by your instructions. Go, therefore, my dear friend, and by preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ, dissipate the darkness of error, and save the souls of your countrymen ; and thus, your friends in heaven will he as innumerable as those on earth. “ Relying on that goodness of heart which is indeed your distinguish- ing characteristic, I hope you will receive with pleasure this fruit of my labour, in token of that sincere regard and tender love with which I remain “ Your affectionate friend and brother, “ Joseph Jaume, Augustinian. “ Genoa , January 10, 1796.” Such were our Reverend Author’s antecedents, as delineated by the above-named distinguished and venerable Father. In reference to his maturer years and missionary labours in Ireland, abundant evidence will be found in these Discourses to indicate that his zeal to promote the honour and glory of God, continued to maintain its ascendancy until the latest moment of his life. ♦ The greatly- gifted Irish ecclesiastic preached in Italian, whilst yet a Deacon. — Editor. Yll In his day, he had a claim to public gratitude, and to the veneration of every Christian, as having so ably, so frequently, and so successfully pleaded the cause of the poor, the widow, and the orphan. The beneficial effects expected to be produced by this volume of Ser- mons, have led to its publication. It is earnestly hoped that its peru- sal and study will tend to the advancement of the readers in the path of virtue and morality, whilst it must inflame all with a love of that divine eloquence, which is as powerful as it is exalted, having for its object the maintenance of faith, the sustainment of hope, and the ad- vancement of that saving charity, which ends here, only to live in eter- nal beatitude with God. Another object, most interesting to the faithful, as well as to all Pastors of souls, will, no doubt, operate to ensure the extensive circu- lation of this valuable work, namely, that the profits to be derived from its sale shall be applied towards the erection of a new Church , on the site of the lowly old Chapel of Johns Lane, ( off Thomas Street, Dublin ), in which many of these beautiful and soul-inspiring Discourses were delivered. JOHN WALSH, Ex-Provincial O.S.A. Church of St. Augustine, John Street, Dublin. Feast of the Conversion of St. Augustine, May 5, 1859. POSTHUMOUS OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. Father Nicholas Molloy was considered, not only by the Catholic journals, but by Protestant reviews of his day, as equal to the great Dean Kirwan as an orator, and in every sense his superior for the stability of his mind, the solidity of his judgment, and the power of his argument. In “ The Hibernian Magazine” and “ Dublin .Mirror,” he was described as the leading orator of the Catholic Church in Ireland. “With a voice. powerful, deep, and melodious — action just, graceful, and dignified — language correct, classical, elegant, and energetic — his appeals in most cases were forcible, awful, and overwhelming. Beautiful sketches of virtuous education, charity, &c., might be taken from his sermons, if written or properly reported.” He considered “ the advantages of education as clearly seen in all classes, from the cottage to the throne, and from the highest to the lowest rank. The pro- gress of infamy appears from the illustrious robber, whose crimes affect every rank of society, to the royal ruffian, whose midnight rambles destroy the home of families or whose tyranny convulses an empire.” Then he would describe “ the illustrious idlers, who are bora, like gaudy insects, but to live and to expire. Wicked men, who will do nothing but indulge in vice, from the cradle of infancy to the decrepitude of olcf age.” His eulogium on virtuous women was as great as it was just, and as eloquent as it was appropriate. “ The good wife, with sweet temper, mild manners, refined taste, and just judgment, might be called a kind of household divinity, soften- ing and refining all the rude passions of man, truly created to the image of God, and in her plastic nature, ‘ little less than angel/ she was destined to avenge Eve’s wrong, and trample on the head of the infernal serpent ; like the conqueror of Holoferaes, stopping the march of tyranny; as an angel of mercy at the couch of disease and death, acting as man’s guide, his hope, and his consolation.” A SERMON ON THE SACRED PASSION OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST. “ Bat He was wounded for our iniquities, He was bruised for our sins, the chas- tisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed.” — Isaias , liii. 5. What objects of horror are these which present themselves to our view on this ever-memorable morning ? What sad catas- trophe are we about to consummate ? Why are our altars, but yesterday covered with the bright emblems of joy and pious festi- vity, stript of their dazzling ornaments, and their ministers clad with the sable garments of grief, sending up their sighs to heaven in the most plaintive sounds of sorrowful lamentations ? Why that mournful silence and that deep dismay which seem depicted on every countenance ? Why, in short, these thick clouds of gloomy fear, that bring such intense trouble to the soul, and ob- scure so much the native glory of the sanctuary ? Has the awful day of judgment at length arrived ? No ! Is the hour of trial at hand ? Yes, my brethren. The trial, the judgment — the condemnation — the death of a God, judged and doomed to suffer for his dear, his beloved, but ungrateful chil- dren of Sion. All are now before us. It is by man he is con- B 10 demned, although it is for man he suffers all the severe pang 9 of a bloody agony and cruel death, “ even the death of the cross.” Behold, then, the great cause why our temples and our altars are shrouded in darkness, and that all our ministers, with their flocks, should grieve ! That deathlike but eloquent silence tells me that the Author of life is no more. That gloomy darkness gives us to understand that the Light of the world is extinct. This holy horror discovers the depth of that sorrow which saddens the Christian heart. The confusion which reigns universally through the material world, announces in agonizing tones, that the great God of nature is dead, and that all nature ought to mourn for his loss. 0 Heavens ! can all this be true ? It is to confirm you in this truth, and to speak on this lamentable subject, that I appear this day in this chair of evangelical truth, in order, by my feeble voice, to animate all with contrition, and learn a lesson from the sad pageant around me. Never was there a more sublime subject treated of by the preachers of the Gospel ; never one more worthy of our serious attention. In fact, my confined imagination is perfectly bewildered in the sublimity of the Passion of Christ, and drowned in the bottomless ocean of his unspeakable sufferings. But, my brethren, your own feelings will more than supply the want of abilities on my part. Your tender hearts already even melt with compassion for the sufferings of our Divine Redeemer, and will meet the deficiency of my thoughts and language on a theme so awful and exalted. Reflect, that in the tragic recital which shall constitute the subject of this mornings discourse, we shall see the innocent Jesus, the eternal Son of the living God, chastised for our sins, pierced through the heart to pay the debt of our crimes, and ex- pire in excruciating agony on the cross, to satisfy the justice of his offended Father. One thought on this, I say, were even your hearts as hard as adamant, must make them throb with swelling sentiments of the most boundless sorrow and the tenderest grati- tude and love. Your eyes will overflow with tears of blood, at the sight of his agony in the garden ; your soul will feel the piercing nails which fastened him to the cross ; your tongue shall be drenched with 11 the vinegar and gall which moistened the lips of your expiring Saviour on Calvary ; and his dying words, his last groan shall strike death into your hardened hearts, whilst they petrify your agitated frames. Ah ! who could imagine, that on this solemn day ungrateful man should repeat to God what this God said one day to his ven- erable and faithful servant, Abraham, on the mount of vision, in the land of Moriah : “ Thou hast not spared thy only-begotten Son from me, or for my sake !” {Gen. xx, ii). This revered Patri- arch, in obedience to the command of his Lord and Master, awakes from his gentle slumber his dearly-beloved son, Isaac, du- ring the dark silence of the night. He conducts him to a neigh- bouring forest, loads him with the wood which was to consume his body, and leads him to the mountain-top, as a willing sacrifice to the will of the Almighty. What a clear figure of Christ we behold in the innocent Isaac ! Both are to be sacrificed by the hands of a father ; both carry the fatal wood which is to be the instrument of their death ; both ascend the mountain where the holocaust is to be shortly consumed. Yes ; behold the fond Abraham, how eagerly he erects the altar, how calmly he arranges the different piles of wood that must des- troy his darling child ! And now, fired with the flames of charity, animated by faith, and strengthened by hope, he seizes on the dearest pledge of his paternal affection. He binds him, hands and feet, and already the unsheathed steel vibrates the blow ; when lo ! a voice from heaven cries out. Suspend thy arm, O faithful servant ! I am now content ; shed not the blood of thy child ; shed it not ; thy faith has been sufficiently proved. And why, my God, not equally favourable to thine own dearly- beloved Son, Jesus Christ ? The innocent Jesus lies stretched on the altar of the cross ; already the spear of the Jewish soldier is aimed at his anointed side. He feels all the pangs of approach- ing death, and in feeble accents, calls on Thee, his Father, in the hour of his affliction, exclaiming, “Father, father, why hast thou forsaken me ?” Ah ! merciful God, tender Father of my suffering Jesus ! why not interfere on behalf of thy own Son ? Must Isaac be saved, and Jesus be delivered over to death ? No, no ! I myself will 12 rush through the crowd to prevent the dread event. Neither the armed phalanxes of Rome, nor the noisy multitude of murdering Jews, shall terrify me. Armed with the shield of Heaven, I will penetrate through the ranks, I will stay the hand of the assassin who will dare attempt the dreadful Deicide. I will seize on the cross, and proclaim aloud, that it is my Jesus I am bearing away. Hence, then, let us hasten onward to Calvary. Ah no ! it is the decree of Heaven that Christ shall die. Then let him die ! Let us, rather than fathom the wisdom of God, listen in profound silence to the voice of those stones that are broken, those monuments that yawn wide and give up their dead, of that veil which is torn asunder, of that sun which is eclipsed, of that earth that is troubled, and of all nature in dreadful con- vulsions. Let us hearken, I say, to this voice, and leam from inanimate nature what our feelings should he on this day of sor- row, while our Creator debases himself, to become our Redeemer, and “ humbles himself even unto the death of the cross.” Let us speak, then, of the Passion of Jesus Christ ; hut let our sighs he more eloquent than our words, since our crimes have been the fatal cause why the Son of God, on this day, carries all the burden of our iniquities in his soul and in his body. These last words shall divide my discourse : Christ suffering in his soul shall be the first point ; Christ suffering in his body shall he the second. From both, I hope, we shall learn to detest sin, the cause of all his sufferings. But, before we proceed to view this tragic spectacle, let us humbly prostrate ourselves at the foot of the cross, which, on this day particularly, should he our resource. “ This is the way, the truth, and the life the way that cannot err, the truth that cannot deceive, the life that can never die. Raise your eyes, then, and with your eyes, raise your hearts, towards this venerable wood, that was the chair of your dishonoured Master ; the wood on which Jesus was to suffer, and the throne of your butchered God. Beg of our amiable Redeemer, whose figure we there behold, that whilst we adore him under his sufferings, and whilst we venerate his cross, we may learn the true method of honouring his Passion, and ob- tain mercy through the merits of his death. Jfirsi |1 flint. As the hatred of sin is necessarily interwoven with the Divine Essence, so the justice of God requires that it should he punished in a manner proportioned to the extent of its malice. We may consider sin under three different lights, in so far as we reduce it to an internal act of the mind. For, as I have said already, Christ suffering internally is the object we are first to view. Sin, you all know, is a transgression of the eternal law of God, the source and origin of all others, whether natural, divine, or human. This transgression takes place, either by an inordinate desire of seeking after pleasure in God’s creatures, or by a crimi- nal disgust which we conceive against God, which leads to a sepa- ration from him ; or finally, by a secret pride of the heart, which teaches us to despise the lawful authority of our Sovereign Lord, and arrogate to ourselves an independence of him, derogatory to his honour and our nature. These are the three ways by which sin affects the soul. Now, as the punishment of a crime internally committed, is inflicted by opposite sensations ; so, the sinner, in punishment of his inordi- nate pleasures, should suffer internal grief. For having aban- doned God, he should be abandoned by God, and the pride of his heart be punished by a humiliating confusion. Such are the re- wards of the sinner, and such are the interior pains which the innocent Jesus, laden with the burden of our crimes, suffers in the different stages of his Passion. Firstly, “ He is sad even unto death secondly, He is “ aban- doned by his Father;” thirdly, He is despised by his own crea- tures, as we shall see in our awful proofs and illustrations. The last supper is over ; the adorable Sacrament is instituted ; the period of Christ’s mission is terminated. The fatal hour is at hand “ when the Son of man shall be delivered into the hands of sinners.” Everything is disposed for his death : the soldiers are prepared to seize on him. He himself, taking with him his three disciples, Peter, James, and John, departs from the ccenaculum, passes the Torrent of Cedron, and advances towards the Garden of Olives. His heart is sorrowful ; his feet are trembling ; his face is pale and emaciated ; his eyes are bathed in tears : in short. 14 as St. Mark expresses it, “ the Son of God began to be sore amazed and to be heavy,” or struck with consternation and with fear. He separates himself in the garden from his disciples, in order to pray to his Eternal Father for comfort; but the dark horrors of the night, the solitude of the place, and the proximity of his last hour, — all these crowd upon his afflicted mind, and present a thousand frightful ideas to his troubled soul. But what means all this apparent oblivion of the Deity in our suffering Jesus ? What is mentioned in Leviticus may explain it in some sense — (xvi, 5). Amongst the other rites there pre- scribed, two untainted kids of the goats were to be handed over to the pontiff, or high priest, by the hands of the people. Both were presented to the Lord at the threshold of the tabernacle, and after casting lots on them, one was offered in sacrifice to God, whilst the other was conducted to the solitary desert, there to be loosened from his fetters, and set at liberty. In those two animals were figured the two natures of Christ. In the one immolated to the Lord, was represented his human nature ; whilst, in the liber- ated in the desert, was figured his Divine nature, which, as St. Augustine explains, during the Passion of Christ, retired, as it were, to a wilderness, and afforded him no consolation This is already the cause why our divine Divine Master should be agitated by such diametrically opposite sensations. Our adorable and suffering Lord now proceeds through the frightful work of his Passion. He advances and retires. He prostrates himself on the ground ; in an instant he is once more erect. He weeps, he smiles, he prays, he ceases to pray. Now he goes to his apostles, and reproaches their slumbering drowsi- ness. f Then he exhorts them in the tenderest manner, and retires from their company. In short, sad, confused, agitated, and affrighted, he falls, for the third time, to the ground, and begs of his Father to have compassion on him, exclaiming, “ If it be possible, let this bitter chalice pass from me.” A stream of blood issues from his eyes. His garments are all bathed with his tears, and the Son of God, covered with our sins, offers nothing to our view but a languid, a disfigured, a skeletonized body, — the melancholy example of the triumphant wrath of an avenging God ! Come, ye just and holy souls, come, and fly to your agonizing 15 Saviour, in order to afford him that consolation which his irritated Father denies him. But no, mortals ; rather retire from the appalling scene ; your presence would only widen those wounds which your crimes have inflicted. Angels of heaven, ye who have never offended the Deity, descend on this day from your happy abodes, to gather the precious drops that gush from the weeping eyes of Him whose presence constitutes your eternal felicity ! Come at once to console by your ministry that God of sanctity whom you adore on high. Alas ! however, do I speak to the winds ? The angel of the Lord has already descended, not to comfort my Saviour, but to confirm the irre- vocable decree that stands registered against him. Thus, my Lord, you are abandoned, not only by your Eternal Father, but even by men and angels. O Heavens ! Now it is that I see him delivered into the hands of his cruel enemies, in order to suffer the third punishment due to sin, which is humiliation before men, in atonement for the pride of our heart and the baseness of our ingratitude ! And what confusion must it not have been for the Son of God, who had laboured so much in the instruction of his apostles, to see himself betrayed into the hands of the envious Pharisees by his once dearly-beloved Judas ! Yes, the execrable conduct of this ungrateful apostle in selling him for thirty pieces of silver, pierces his fond heart with a thousand swords, and should alarm all the zeal of Christian piety, lest, whilst standing, it should fall, and fall for ever ! What \ unfortunate Judas, does not the eternal ignominy which must for ever stigmatize your odious memory, operate on your mind in favour of your Lord and of your Christ ? Does not the horror of this blackened action arrest your steps ? But what can appal the heart of a covetous man when gold is in question ? Attracted by the disgraceful and horrible bribe, his sordid soul is near to our Saviour. Already he salutes him and gives him the sacrilegious kiss of peace, or rather war, which delivers him into the hands of the infuriated mob. These, like hungry lions darting on their prey, seize on the innocent Lamb of God, and bind him with ignominious cords, to accomplish the ancient prophecy of Isaias : “ My inheritance is become like that of the lion in the forest, for they extended ropes to ensnare me.” 16 Oh ! what confusion must not this have operated in the mind of our doomed and dearest Jesus ! Ah ! yes ; so sensibly was he touched, that he reproaches his guards with their inhumanity. “ What !” says he, “ ye are come to apprehend me, armed with swords and clubs, as if I were a public malefactor 1” All his disciples now fly away, to verify the complaint of Ezechiel : “ I looked around me, and there was not one to assist me. — I turned my eyes again, and there was not one that would weep.” Mary, it is true, that tender and immaculate Mother, shares in his grief and confusion ; but this only agitates him the more. Peter, the courageous Peter, unsheathes the sword to defend him in the presence of an Annas and a Caiphas, before whom the innocent J esus is now conducted by the insulting soldiers, to be the derision of the Scribes and the Pharisees ! Let us follow Jesus in spirit to this assembly, and listen to the cries of his accusers ; hear the shouts of murder and death ; attend to the insidious high priest calling the Saviour of the world “ a blasphemous and false Prophet.” See how he rends his gar- ments, and pronounces the sentence of death, whilst an infuriated mob ratify the iniquitous sentence by repeated shouts of applause ! But whose voice is that which in gentle accents protests “ he knows not the man” ? He is accused by a female of being a companion of Jesus, and he swears “ he knows him not” ! She still, with female obstinacy, declares “ she saw him with Jesus of Nazareth ;” but he adds imprecations to perjury, and proclaims aloud, that “ he knows not the man.” — Hark ! the cock crows. Oh ! my brethren, Peter has denied his Lord ! — Even three times he has denied him, as the shrill voice of the cock thrice proclaims. Ah ! how sensibly was the heart of Jesus touched by this denial ! That Judas should betray him, was the work to which he was destined. That the Pharisees should persecute him, was the effect of their malicious envy. That his disciples should abandon him, was the natural consequence of their weakness : but that Peter, the Star of Heaven, should fall, that the Cedar of Libanus should be shaken ; that Peter, his privileged Apostle, to whom he had more distinctly revealed the secrets of his glory and divinity, and whom . he had publicly promised to establish as the pillar and visible head of his Church ; that he should thus deny him, after so many protestations of fidelity, must have deeply affected him. 17 What an additional confusion must this be for our Divine Master ? He is no longer able to suffer it. Alas ! he says, I am abandoned by my Father, despised by my people, and I am denied by my favourite Apostle ! Oh ! all the cruelties which will be employed against and discharged on my emaciated body, torment me not half so much as the confusion with which I feel myself covered by Peter’s denial. Ah ! who will, amidst the pangs of my mind, give me the wings of the dove, that I may ascend into the Heavens, there to rest from my sufferings and disgrace ? Sweet Jesus ! my heart sympathises with you. Willingly would I grant what you ask. But your irritated Father is as yet but half appeased. He views the sufferings of your soul, and is pleased with this offering in expiation of our sins ! But before it becomes an offering of peace, your body, your adorable body, must feel all the lashes of his vengeance. He will grant your request, he will give you the wings of the dove to fly to him, and repose in his bosom ; but before this is granted, he requires that you should be offered unto him, after the same manner that the dove in the Old Law was a sacrifice of holocaust. According to what we read in the book of Leviticus, the Priest of the temple should select an untainted dove, and after offering it to the Lord, draw all her blood, then break her wings and legs, and afterwards place the pounded remains on the altar, to be entirely consumed. What a moving and striking figure of the Passion of Christ ! Now, my beloved Son, (says your eternal Father, as if addressing you, my loving and adorable Bedeemer), after your legs shall be broken, your bones pounded like those of the dove ; after the last drop of your blood shall be poured out, and your mangled body consumed by the flames of charity on the altar of the Cross ; then indeed you shall rise more glorious from your ashes : you shall triumph over sin and death ; and, like the dove, you shall wing your way towards heaven, and repose for ever in the bosom of your own eternal Father. But let us now behold, in solemn silence, the bloody sacrifice : Christ suffering in his body shall be the object of your attention, after having once more saluted the Cross — on this day the terror of conquered Hell, and triumph of victorious Heaven. c 18 Second Ipoint. “ It is not sufficient,” says the learned Tertullian, “ that the sinner, in expiation of his crimes, should suffer the internal pangs of the mind alone. It is also necessary that his bodily members, which have been the instruments of sin, should likewise he made to feel the severe lashes of an avenging justice. The mind, by its consent to anything unlawful, first transgresses ; consequently, it should first suffer ; but the body, that is obedient to the dictates of the corrupted mind, and executes its rebellious decrees, should not he permitted to pass by unpunished.” Such is the beautiful and exact reasoning of the great Tertullian, and presently you will see it fulfilled in the sufferings of your Divine Redeemer. Do not expect, my brethren, that I can follow closely the literal narrative of the Passion, as related by the Holy Evangelists. No ; their histories are so simply beautiful, that to attempt an imitation, would argue the height of arrogance in me. And, indeed, as you have, on the annual return of this tragic day, repeatedly heard them from the altar, I shall only select such passages as may most forcibly strike your wounded imagination, and show in the clearest light, the depth of the malice of sin. We shall, therefore, be now, for a few moments, the afflicted spectators of a Man- God suffering, for our sake, the eternal punish- ment of sin, in the various stages of a cruel flagellation, — a more cruel coronation, — and the most cruel crucifixion ! Pontius Pilate, the Roman President of Judea, before whom Jesus had been dragged by an infatuated mob, and accused of being “ an enemy to Caesar,” saw plainly, that it was the envy of the Pharisees that bribed Judas to betray him, and stimulated the populace to call for his blood. Terrified also by the troublesome dreams of his wife, he wished to have nothing to do in this tragic affair, and empowered the Jews to judge the prisoner according to their own laws. But they, learned in the ways of evil, pro- tested against the measure, saying, that their conscience and re- ligion forbade them to condemn any man. It is not lawful for us to kill any man. 0 malicious Jews! 0 deep-dyed hypocrites! do you vainly 19 imagine that the guilt of a pagan judge will make you inno- cent ? If it be murder to condemn the Immaculate Lamb of God, is it not equally murder to bribe witnesses against him, and to force the judge, by clamorous menaces, to destroy him ? Pilate asks our Saviour what crime he is guilty of ; but he is silent — he answers not. But the Jews, animated by the Scribes and Phari- sees, cry aloud, “ He is guilty of death.” Such is the effect of that infamous passion of envy, which realises phantoms, changes into crimes the most laudable actions, and stamps the most noble acts of virtue with the detestable guilt of vice. Notwithstanding the loud cries of the mob, the poor infidel judge makes his last effort to save our Redeemer ; not willing, at the same time, to offend his persecutors. There was a custom amongst the Jews, in honour of the feast of the Passover, to free a prisoner at the choice of the people. At that time, he had in custody a notorious robber named Barab- bas, who was guilty of murder. He supposed this fellow’s crimes were so enormous as to render him unworthy, not only of mercy, but even of compassion. He was by birth obscure, by profession a villain, a nuisance to his country, and the shame of the age. Thus, by proposing so infamous a malefactor, the temporising Pilate thought there could be no doubt or debate about the choice, and that in this unparalleled case, envy would give way to justice. How miserably, however, did he find himself disappointed, when he heard them all vociferating, “ Release to us Barabbas, and let Christ be crucified !” Never, surely, was there a more unreasonable choice than the present. Never did envy appear more violent, nor injustice so barefaced ! And thou, 0 my afflicted soul ! whose releasement dost thou desire ? Thy com- passion, no doubt, would deliver Jesus ; but thy sins cry louder, “ Let him be crucified !” O Eternal Father ! will you save a wretched slave, and crucify your own Son ? Nay, even my dear Saviour himself demands with eagerness the deliverance of Barabbas. To redeem me, to redeem all of us, you will sacrifice yourself, and die on a cross, that we may live eternally hereafter. You are, therefore, O Jesus ] doomed to die by the voices of heaven and earth, by the justice of your Father, by the obedience you owe him, and by your love for us. We condemn the vile conduct of the Jews, in the preference given to Barabbas. We cannot read this passage without horror and astonishment ; but do we consider, that while they are guilty of suicide, of the murder of a God by sin, they, at least the greater part of them, were ignorant of his Divinity ? otherwise, they would not have preferred Barabbas to him. Whilst we, who firmly believe that he is God, and adore him ; we, who hope to be saved by his merits, or fear to be damned by the rigours of his justice ; we — oh, how melancholy to think ! — prefer Barabbas, nay, things ten times more vile and execrable, to our all-sufficient God! We indulge our unbridled passions, we gratify our sensual ap- petites, at the expense of conscience and reason. We heap up treasures on the ruins of our neighbour, and too often sleep in the embraces of a more notoriously infamous character than Barabbas. How many now-a-days, slaves to the passion of avarice, repeat with the perfidious Judas, “ What will you give me, and I will betray Jesus Christ to you ?” I will betray my friend ; I will sell his interest, and turn his confidence in me, to his own ruin and destruction. What will you give me, say those horrid wretches who make a trade of peijury, and I will swear whatever you please ? I will swear against the evidence of my own eyes ; I will pronounce the sentence of my own damnation ? What will you give me, and I will betray the duties of my state and my profession ; I will sell honour, justice, honesty, conscience, and humanity ; I will sell you my country, my friends, my body, my soul, and my salvation ? Come up to my price, and money shall be the purchase of all imaginable crimes ! Oh ! ye robed mighty ones of earth, who steer the helm of justice, how often are your honest judgments led astray by such knavery ! Too often are you forced, like the temporising Pilate, to sacrifice your feelings, and to stab your honour, in order to appear friends to Caesar, or “ the powers that be.” Too often are your unbiassed hearts influenced by the cries of more than Jewish malice; the studied malice of legal monsters. 21 who have destroyed the simplicity of justice, in order to establish anjnfamous traded of fraud and chicanery on the ruins of injured equity. For money they swear, for money they lie, for money they sacrifice all. Wretches, whose jetty garments are white as the snowdrop when compared with the raven dye of their more than blackened hearts. Ah ! yes ; too often do we behold in this world the evidence of a Judas, the counsel of a Pharisee, and the vile compromise of a Pilate. Too often is Barahhas preferred to Jesus. But the Scriptures must be fulfilled, and the terrific history of Christ’s Passion must be told for our use and improvement. Pilate, seeing that nothing can operate compassion on the flint- hearted Jews, resolves to deliver him up to their cruelty, after having first whipped him severely, according to the Roman law, which (as St. Jerome observes) condemns the criminal first to be whipped, and then crucified; or (as St. Augustine more chari- tably remarks) Pilate wished by this means to save Jesus from death. “ Now,” says Pilate, “ sons of Israel, behold the Man !” Surely your revenge must now be appeased ? Oh ! my brethren, had you viewed your dear Redeemer when tied to the pillar, naked and exposed to the rabble of Jerusalem, your hearts, over- charged with grief, would burst from your bodies. He now agonises under the muscular arm and leaden whip of a powerful ruffian. He is not struck dead with a blow, but his skin grows all piebald with contusion and cicatrice. By turns, he is cut with a scourge of knotted cords, and bruised with a shower of blows of a heavy cudgel, and a wild soldiery, with blows and stripes, assail the welted back of the tortured Jesus. Wounds and gashes by piecemeal reduce his body to a skeleton. The sharp pang, the enduring smart, the exhaustion, the weariness, and the knotty bonds, which lacerate the holy body of our half-murdered Lord ! Listen to leaden scourges whistling through the air, anxious to lay open the tender flesh of my dear Saviour. There, see the blood-besmeared executioner stretching forth his strong and brawny arm to tear asunder his delicate frame. Hear how the lashes resound on his mangled body. See how the livid flesh flies in large fragments on every 22 side. Hear the mournful groans of your martyred Saviour. Hearken to the deep sighs that he sends forth from his fainting heart, whilst his surrounding enemies exult in his misfortunes, and mingle their shouts with his moans. They vie with each other, in succession, to wield the lashes, and the blood that streams from every vein, only adds strength to their arms. Blow succeeds blow, wound to wound, shout to shout ; not an atom of flesh is left on his back. His shoulders are opened and torn asunder. “ All his bones,” says the Prophet, “ they have reckoned.” “Many dogs have surrounded me,” says our Saviour by the mouth of the Royal Psalmist ; “ they opened their mouths on me, like the lion in the wilderness.” The jealous brother of the young Joseph had compassion on his sufferings when buried in the cave; the flames of the fur- nace of Babylon are extinguished in favour of the three Hebrew youths ; the lions spared Daniel in their den ; but my enemies, worse than lions, are comforted in my affliction. I expected somebody that would grieve with me, and there was none that would comfort me, there was not one. Well, indeed, had the Prophet Isaias said, “We have seen him, a man of sorrows ; we have thought him, as it were, a leper, and as one struck by God.” What a striking and frightful com- parison ! Ah ! sensual sinners, consider your dear Redeemer in this dis- mal condition. Ye libertines, who range through every round of pleasure; ye gluttons, who refuse nothing to pamper your sinful bodies ; come and behold “ this Man of Sorrows,” this tortured victim of your intemperance and sensuality. It is you who have thus disfigured him ; it is you who have thus torn him ; it is you who have thus crimsoned him with blood, and rendered him an object of so much horror ! The Jews, finding no spot untouched in his whole body where- on to exercise the lash, resolved to expose the King of kings to public ridicule and derision ! After covering his mangled frame with coarse clothes, they now violently tear them from his back, and carry away all the remaining bits of flesh, and thus horribly widen all his wounds ! 0 heavens ! what cruelty ! How these inhuman monsters sport with the feelings of nature ! There, 23 trembling, bleeding, tortured, agonizing, the naked Jesus stands ! A reed is given him as a sceptre, a red rag as the mock garment of royalty ; and instead of the brilliant diadem, a crown — and, oh ! what a crown ! — a crown of thorns is placed on his head. We know not what number of thorns composed the ignominious crown, as the Scriptures are silent on this head. But if we con- sult the book of Leviticus, wherein are to be found so many ex- pressive figures of the Passion of Christ, we may, perhaps, be enabled to form some faint idea of their number. The law of Moses commanded, in case of the transgression of any precept, that certain animals, according to the nature of the offence, should be offered to the Lord, and that during the ceremony, the delinquents should place their hands on the head of the victim. Now, as it was impossible that all the people could touch the vic- tim at the same time, it was ordered that a certain number of the elders should be chosen to represent the whole body. Now, my brethren, we are all the transgressors of the law ; Christ is the vic- tim that is to be offered here, and by means of the thorns, they place our hands on his head. “ The thorns,” says the ingenious and illustrious expositor, and Doctor of the Church, St. Thomas of Aquinas, “ could not be as many in number as sinners ; but we must suppose a sufficient number to represent the sins of the world ; and as Christ had chosen seventy-two disciples as repre- sentatives of the whole body of the faithful, we may rationally conclude that the number of thorns which pierced the head of our Lord was not less than seven ty-two and these (as St. Vincent Ferrer observes) were not common thorns, but thick, hard, long, and pointed stumps. This is the crown, 0 brethren, which, in his awful Passion, adorns the head of your Jesus ! They press it hard on his skull, which is bored in several places. They then pluck them up, and with heavy hammers beat them back again in different directions. Some pass through the brain, others pierce the ears, some penetrate the nostrils, whilst others burst through his eyes with intensity of pain. O horrid spectacle ! O revolting sight ! Come forward, sin- ners, to view the enormity of your crimes. Come forward, and behold the Man ! View, 0 ambitious and sensual ones, to what condition you have reduced a God ! Come forward, ye daughters 24 of pleasure, ye women of the world, view that head pierced with thorns, to expiate the vanity of those seductive ornaments, with which you decorate your haughty brows. Behold that face, all livid, pale, and disfigured, which once beamed with the glories of Thabor’s transfiguration ! Come forward, ye voluptuous, proud, and vindictive Christians, and learn from your Christ, to “be meek and humble of heart.” Come forward, in short, ye profaners of the blood of Jesus Christ in the blessed Sacrament of his love ; learn from the example of the Jews, the terrible judg- ments that await your profanations and sacrileges ! They called for the death of Christ, and “ that his blood might be on them, and upon their children.” They have obtained their request, and ever since, have been wandering vagrants, despised by all men, and dispersed through every region of the earth ! O my God ! may your blood fall upon us, hut not as on the Jews ; — not for our reprobation, hut for our justification, to wash away the stains of our sins, to penetrate us with a lively and heartfelt sorrow for having committed them, and doomed you to die on a cross amidst the deepest agony ! Yes, Jesus is at length delivered up to be crucified ; and now, my soul, accompany your dear Lord on his way to Calvary, and you, my Christian brethren, join me in the mournful train. You have, perhaps, often seen unfortunate criminals conducted to capital punishment ; you have witnessed with what compas- sionate attention their most trifling wants are attended to; the ministers of death endeavouring as far as possible to sweeten the hitter draught, and the humanity of all ranks and degrees of peo- ple, at variance, as it were, with the hard and disagreeable neces- sity of public justice. But nothing of this attention, this com- passion is manifested at the execution of the innocent Jesus ! He is dragged along with most inhuman violence. The cross on which he is to suffer is laid on his tortured shoulders, and a thousand bleeding wounds, from the merciless stripes he received, do not at all plead in his favour, to alleviate the few remaining moments of his life. Behold him, sighing and panting for breath, amidst this barbarous rabble, who thirst after his blood, each vieing to be the executioner. The hard and heavy pangs of death begin to invade his frame. He falls at every step, and is raised only 25 with blows. No friend to comfort him; no kind, compassionate eye to shed a tear over his complicated misery. But yes ; the holy women who followed him to Calvary, mingled their tears with his groans ; but he desires them “ not to weep over him, but over themselves and their children,” who were shortly to perish under the ruins of Jerusalem. He is now arrived at the mountain-top. The executioners sur- round him, armed with nails and hammers. They seize him, and throw him down on the cross ; one drags his legs, another his arms ; one furnishes the nails, another hammers them through his delicate members. Our Divine Saviour is fastened to the cross, and with him, the decree of our condemnation ! Stretched at full length, weltering in his blood, crowned with thorns, bruised with bulfets, torn with whips, the Saviour of the world is raised on high, amidst the loud cries of the joyful multitude, and placed between two thieves, the one on his right, and the other on his left side. * Now it is, that his darling and immaculate Mother gets a view of him. Frantic, she penetrates through the crowd ; she embraces the cross ; she lifts her fond arm to sustain his weight ; she kisses him, and kisses the fatal wood, a thousand times. She looks upwards to her dying Son, and a thousand shrieks accompany these looks ; till, at length, exhausted, she bows her head, and the blood of her Son and her tears flow in one common stream over the hill of Calvary — around and down the cross ! She is torn away by the guards. She still turns to view him, the dearest, holiest, divinest object of her affection ! She listens to the voice of her dear Son, praying to his Father for his enemies : “ Father, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do !” Alas ! passion blinds them. They neither see my innocence, which they torture, nor my divinity, which they blaspheme. They forget or despise thy justice, which they provoke. — “ Forgive them,” then, at my request, “for they know not what they do.” O transcendant goodness ! O excess of charity ! O amiable spirit of forgiveness ! how lovely dost thou not appear in our crucified Jesus ! How noble, how exalted, how every way wor- thy of our imitation ! His prayer was heard, for many, return- ing from this horrid scene, retired with compunction, striking D 20 their breasts, and saying, “ Oh ! this was indeed the Son of God !” But now the pangs of death begin to invade his disjointed frame. A deadly paleness overspreads his face ; his soul prepares to leave his tortured body ; and gathering his wasted spirits, he cries out, “ Consummatum est ,” — all is finished ! As if he said. The prophecies have been fulfilled, for my life has hung before my eyes ; the figures have been realised, for the true Isaac this day is sacrificed. The wrath of my Father is at length appeased ; man, the dear object of all my cares, is redeemed. I die in peace ! And bowing his sacred head, He expires ! — All nature is strangely convulsed at the death of Jesus. The stones, that can- not weep, break in pieces, — break in pieces for sorrow ; the ada- mantine rocks are instantly rent asunder ; the sepulchres fly open; the dead arise and walk about in all the various shapes of horror. “ The veil of the temple is rent from top to bottom/’ The sun, retiring behind a thick and gloomy cloud, mourns the death of its Master. In short, all nature proclaims, in eloquent silence, that Christ is no more ! And are we, my brethren, more insensible than rocks, more stupid than inanimate beings ? O Heavens ! can this possibly be the case ? Are you as yet unmoved ? Yes, not only unmoved, but even determined to crucify Jesus over again ! 0 inhuman monsters ! have I thus laboured in vain ? No ; I cannot persuade myself to this. But should you, unfortunately, he so hard-hearted as to meditate a second crucifixion, by the commission of sin, let me plead, as the people of Israel one day did in favour of Jona- thas, who was a figure of Christ. This young hero, after return- ing victorious from the defeat of the Philistines, was condemned by his father, Saul, to die, for having tasted some honey as he marched along, which was contrary to the law. The people, on hearing the sentence, are astonished ; they crowd round the king, and with open arms, beg of him to revoke the sentence. “What,” say they, “ 0 Sire ! shall Jonathas, who so bravely fought for the safety of Israel, who has rendered such services to the nation, he condemned to die ?” Such I would repeat to you, hardened sin- ners. Shall Christ, who conquered not only the proud Philistines, but also the demons of darkness, who worked the salvation of all Israel, — shall he be crucified again by your sins ? Ah ! no, my 27 brethren. As Saul revoked the decree of death at the request of his army, so I hope that you will, at my advice, recall this impi- ous sentence. Oh ! had you seen all he suffered for you, you would hearken to his voice, and not only repent, but abandon sin for ever. Raise your eyes, then, and behold a lively image of Christ cru- cified. See him here, not like Jonathas, with his clothing covered with dust, but naked, and stript of his garments ; not refreshed like him with honey, but drenched with bitter gall ; not moist- ened with sweat, but covered with blood ; not crowned with lau- rels, but pierced with thorns ; view his side, not ornamented by a sword, but opened by a lance ; see his hands, his feet, not fa- tigued in the fight, but bored with nails ; view his entire body, one wide and bloody wound ! Ah ! weep then, my brethren, over the sufferings of Jesus ; ap- proach that sepulchre where he lies, with his arms extended to receive you. With sighs and tears appear before him, and in the words of the Penitent David, exclaim, “ Miserere mei “Have mercy on me, 0 Lord ! according to thy great mercy, and accord- ing to the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out mine ini- quity !” Amen, amen. 28 A SERMON ON THE FIRST SUNDAY OF LENT. I say to you, there shall be joy in heaven upon one sinner doing penance, more than upon ninety-nine just, 'frho need not penance. — St. Luke, xv, 7. If the works of penance are to he proportioned to ouii transgres- sions, they never should be more multiplied, nor more strictly per- formed, than in those “ evil days,” when irreligion, impiety, and other enormous crimes, the most likely to irritate the Lord, and excite his vengeance on the guilty, are increased to such a lamen- table extent, as to make the pastors of the Church and every zealous Christian dread the Almighty wrath by the most marked effects of his provoked indignation. Our holy Mother, the Church, during the sacred time of Lent, clothes her altars and ministers with mourning weeds. Silence and sadness have taken the place of mirth and joy, and she min- gles her songs of praise with the cries of penitential supplications, in order to put us in mind of our religious duties, of piety, prayer, and mortification. These days of sorrow should be devoted to meditation, prayer, and penance, in order to prepare ourselves to sanctify the Lent in a manner becoming the followers of the hum- ble Jesus. But do we hear the voice of our tender Mother, calling us to repentance ? Alas ! do not many Christians pervert the intention of the Church by changing the days preceding Lent, which are intended as a preparation, into a carnival of riot and debauchery ? Do they not lavish their precious hours in infamous intrigues, in fraudulent pursuits, in banqueting, gluttony, and libertinage ? Where are the hours that are given to God ? Where are the hours that are employed in public and domestic prayer ? Where are the moments that are spent in the sanctification of the soul ? Alas ! although the Church of God, and even the sacred volumes of Scripture, are constantly and clearly enforcing our duties on these heads, yet, how few follow their dictates ? If we hear the voice of the Church, what attention do we pay to her holy admonitions ? Whilst among some the voice of the Church is the subject of contempt and raillery, even amongst the many who profess obedience to her authority, how few really are guided by her spirit ! And whilst Christians neglect, infidels de- ride. As to the pages of Revelation, they are considered by our modern freethinkers but as “ the fabulous records of holy imposi- tion, or the luxuriant produce of an intoxicated fancy.” Now, to hear a scanty service on a Sunday, of less than half an hour’s duration — and the Lord knows with what dispositions — and spend the remainder of the day in dress, in idle parties, and visits of pleasure, often in calumny, in scandal, and every vicious and dissipating occupation, is sanctifying the Sunday in a very rational manner ! To say, now-a-days, that mortification is absolutely necessary to the Christian, in order to appease the an- ger of Heaven and humble our pampered flesh, and that the fast of Lent is not a mere political institution, but a sacred ordinance, would be laughed at by all such libertines, as “ the vile offspring of prejudice or unenlightened bigotry.” O ye favourites of Heaven, holy anchorites of the desert, why did you persevere in punishing your poor frames by all the aus- terity of penance ? If the glory of Sion is to be purchased on such pleasing terms as our modern sceptics set forth, why did you live amongst wolves and tigers ? Why feed on the herbs of the field, or drink of the simple waters of the brook, if Heaven knows no distinction between thy humble fruits, and the luxuriant 80 viands of extravagance ? Why sleep under the canopy of an in- clement sky, if the favour of the Almighty can he as easily, and much more comfortably courted in the gilded habitation of indo- lence and ease ? 0 generous souls, I own I had nearly accused you of folly in thus torturing yourselves ! But, oh ! how do your rigours reproach the delicacy of those polluted times, when men professing to be the disciples of the divine Jesus, seem to prefer the momentary interest of their corruptible bodies to the eternal interest of their immortal souls ! The unenlightened disciples of Mahomet, whose religious system seems to be but a tissue of idle absurdities, are yet to be admired, however mistaken, for their stubborn attachment to their principles. We are informed by a high authority, that during their fasts, which occur often in the year, they refrain from all feastings, and live chiefly upon bread, salt, and vinegar, and drink but water from the barren rock ! Again, we are told that the Nestorians, Euty chians, Armenians, and other sectaries in the East, although separated from the Catholic Church ever since the fifth or sixth century, yet have always agreed with Catholics in this point. Nay, Protestant travellers tell us, that the Christians in the East cannot believe any to be Christians, but such as observe this venerable aod re- vered' law, which has been obeyed through all ages, by all na- tions in which the Christian religion has been planted, as the learn- ed Dr. Sharpe, an eminent Protestant divine, candidly and inge- nuously confesses. Is it not, therefore, shameful, Catholics of the present day, that so venerable a portion of our holy discipline should seem burdensome to you, who glory in being the descend- ants of the noble champions of Christianity ? Is it not base for us to seek excuses to dispense with our obligation, as ancient as the sacred records of our holy religion ? Believe me, dearly beloved followers of Christ, for any one who is able, and subject to the precept of observing the fast of Dent, and wilfully refuses to keep the command, it is to exclude himself from the number of the children of God; it is to declare himself a rebel against the Church, by trampling her precepts under his feet, deserting the standard of Christ, and the army of God. Our obligation of doing penance, our advancement in sanctity and spiritual strength, should make us be anxious, wdth joy, to lay hold of this holy season of sanctification. Yes ; “ this is a time in which/’ as St. Bernard observes, “ our Lord Jesus Christ as- saults the devil and his angels in a general engagement ; and bless- ed are those who, under such a Captain, fight manfully, and con- quer the legions of hell.” But let us consider, for a few moments, the advantages arising to us from fasting and mortifying our sensual appetites, accord- ing to the spirit of the Church. Shall barbarians, who make the gratification of sensual appetites one of the principal tenets of their belief, behave on certain occasions more conformable to the rules of reason and morality, than Christians, who profess a life of most perfect sanctity and self-denial ? Shall those who aim at following a crucified Saviour, and have their lives squared by the rigid maxims of the Gospel, yet indulge themselves in all the ex- cesses of this corrupted age — excesses which both reason and re- ligion condemn at all times, but particularly in this holy season, when they should blush for shame, whilst they seem to dispose themselves for the observance of Lent, by sacrificing at the un- holy shrine of gluttony and unchristian festivity ? Ah ! dearly beloved brethren in Christ Jesus, in the name of God, then, in pity to the blood of your Redeemer, in compassion for your own inestimable souls, which cost him so dearly, resolve to change your conduct for a wiser course, and live according to the spirit of his holy law. I shall endeavour, in a short discourse, to compendiate or epi- tomise the almost innumerable arguments in favour of the institu- tion, the obligation, and the advantages of mortification during the season of Lent, which has commenced. As the subject is of the highest importance, I request your most serious attention ! 0 eternal and most bountiful God ! Fountain of all wisdom, and Source of the most tender mercy ! enable me, I beseech thee, to instruct this thy Christian people in the high importance of pen- ance, as the great means, after Baptism, of obtaining salvation ; or rather, thou, my God, vouchsafe to make them feel it, that thus they may be as anxious to be saved, as thou art graciously solicitous to save all mankind . — Hail Mary, dtc . 82 “ Be ye afflicted now and mourn ; let your laughter be turned into weeping, and your mirth and joy into sighs of repentance. Humble yourselves, in short, in the sight of the Lord, in these penitential days.” This was the advice of the great Tertullian to the Christians of the third century. “ Let the rich especially, and those who live delicately, deny their appetites, in this holy Lent, keep a slender table, and give alms liberally, in order to satisfy for their extravagant excesses during the remainder of the year,” says the learned and illustrious Father, St. Ambrose, in his third Sermon on Abstinence. These, I consider, are good authorities in proof of the antiquity of abstinence in general, and of Lent in particular. “Fasting in itself,” says the Protestant Bishop, Dr. Beveridge, a learned theologian in his way, “no one can deny to be a virtue and a becoming religious duty ; and to fast by precept and at regular times, as Catholics do, cannot be liable to any censure, since God himself enforced a regular and yearly fast in the Jewish law, as we read in the 16th chapter of Leviticus. Moses, appointed by God, to be the legislator of the Jews, fasted forty days, to prepare himself to converse with God, as we are told in the 9th chapter of Deuteronomy. The holy prophet Elias, be- fore he would proceed with the great work of the Lord on his arrival on Mount Horeb, also fasted forty days, an act most ac- ceptable to Heaven.” That fasting and penance were always deemed a most powerful means of preventing the divine judgment and of obtaining pardon of sins, is still clearer from various passages of the sacred oracles of God. After the Ninivites had, by their great crimes and abominations, insulted Heaven and excited its vengeance, which was ready to fall upon their guilty heads, at the preaching of Jonas, the Pro- phet, they believed in God, and observed an austere fast, in order to disarm his wrath and humble themselves. Hence, the sacred volume declares, that “ they fasted and prayed,” and “ did pen- ance in sackcloth and ashes,” and obtained mercy. We are also told, that David, in a similar manner, to appease the Lord, and obtain His pardon for his many sins and scandals, prayed con- stantly for mercy, and put on sackcloth, and humbled his soul by fasting. — ( Psal . xxxiv, 13). 33 Thus we see, that the Patriarchs, the Prophets, and other holy men of ancient times, recommended to add to the interior sorrow of the heart for sin, the outward works of prayer, fasting, and almsdeeds ; or, as the great Tobias says, “ Alms are good, with prayer and fasting.” Hence, the Prophet Joel (ii, 12) says, in the name of the Lord, “ Now, therefore, be converted to me with all your heart, in fasting, and in weeping, and in mourning add- ing, “ Who knoweth but that the Lord will return and forgive ?” Thus, we see the law of nature and the written law consecrated by a fast of forty days in the person of Moses, and that of the Prophets by Elias. And to show the double alliance with these, as exemplified in the Transfiguration, with Christ, their Head, “ the law of grace and mercy” by Christ was ushered in, in a similar manner, by a fast of forty days, as solemnly set forth by himself in person. Thus, he not only commenced his preaching, like John the Baptist, with setting forth “ the necessity of pen- ance,” (St. Matt., iii, 2, 8, and St. Mark , i, 4) ; but, “ when he had fasted forty days and forty nights, he was afterwards hungry,” and met the devil by saying, “ It is written, man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” — (St. Matt., iv, 2, 4). Hence, this divine ex- ample was enforced and practised by the Apostles, and enforced upon his followers, in order that these three different phases, or states of religion, might each give its sanction' to fasting and mortification, and they should receive a sanction from them all. The Church, therefore, by a prudent and holy zeal, calls on all her children to unite their forces, and fight the battle of sal- vation, under the great Captain of our spiritual warfare, by re- sisting the devil, and imitating His quadragesimal fast, accord- ing to our situation in life, and to the fullest extent of our weak abilities. So deeply has been the sense of this religious duty of fasting imprinted on the minds of men, through all ages and nations, that most sects of pagans and infidels, as St. Cyril of Alexandria remarks, considered it as a homage paid to the Supreme Deity. Yes ; the heathens, in most parts of the world, ascribe a most powerful religious virtue to fasting, which notion they must have certainly derived from the patriarchal religion. St. Jerome con- E 34 founds the heresiarch, Jovinian, who denied the virtue of fasting and abstinence, by the example of the ancient Egyptian priests, who abstained from flesh, eggs, milk, and wine, on certain days, in order, as he says, to restrain the lust of sensual pleasures, and to preserve their minds free from the fumes of intemperance. Eaustus, the Manichean, in my opinion, gives the most de- cided proof of the antiquity of the fast of Lent, whilst he en- deavours to strengthen the erroneous opinions of his own sect by the practice of Catholics. “ You keep one Lent," says he, writ- ing to the great luminary of the Christian world, St. Augustine, “ abstaining from wine and flesh meat, without superstition, which has been a law with your earliest forefathers ; why, then, not allow us to keep three Lents , since the greater the abstinence, the more extensive the merit ?” A wily argument indeed. But the great St. Augustine instantly saw into its fallacy, and thus replied : “ We do not blame your fasting three Lents ; hut we condemn your motives in so doing. To abstain with a proper intention , and to subdue the flesh for the spiritual advantage of the soul, is the duty of a Christian and a Catholic ; hut to re- frain from any meats upon the persuasion that they are un- clean , or not created by God, (as the Manicheans believed), is the doctrine of lying devils," as St. Paul has declared long since. From this concise and beautiful answer of the great African Doctor, we may clearly understand, that it is merely to mortify our inclinations and rebellious passions, that our holy Mother, the Church, by the example and command of Christ and his holy Apostles, has preserved the institution of Lent ; and it is equally evident, from the expressions of Faustus, that this institution is as ancient as Christianity, or our great forefathers in the faith. In short, if we trace the religious observance of Lent through every age from our time, we shall find it clearly mentioned in the Councils and in the ecclesiastical writers of every age, up to the very first century. Hence, Daille, the celebrated Calvinist minister, who writes warmly against the propriety of this fast, allows, however, that it was universally established in the Church at the conclusion of the third century. But, if we consult St. Ambrose, St. Gregory Nazianzen, and the famous Theophilus of Alexandria, we shall find its origin in apostolic tradition. It is, therefore, most venerable for its antiquity, for the univer- sality of its observance, and for its manifold spiritual advantages. Thus far in support of the fast of Lent, against the followers of the impious Calvin. But what do the followers of Luther say? They, indeed, generally allow the fast of Lent to be of primitive antiquity, but they cannot persuade themselves that it ever was a strict precept of obligation. Certainly, my beloved brethren, we do not pretend to say that the particular details of the fast of Lent, no more than other apostolic precepts handed down by tradition, are distinctly stated in the volumes of Sacred Scrip- ture, although the doctrines of fasting, mortification, and pen- ance, are repeated in almost every page even of the written word. But we contend for it, that the testimony of the most holy and enlightened Fathers and writers of Christianity, from the earliest days, places beyond all doubt, that this solemn fast of Lent was considered in all ages of the most strict obligation. St. Basil declares in express terms, that “ whosoever is able to keep this fast, and breaks it, will be arraigned for this transgression before Him who is the Legislator of fasts.” Tertullian, at a still earlier period, although once a Montanist, or one who believed no fast to be binding, but merely of free choice, yet afterwards lamented his error, and peremptorily declared, that “ to fast on other days is a remedy against sin, but not to fast in Lent, is absolutely a sin. He who fasts at other times shall obtain pardon ; but he who is able, and does not fast on these days, shall suffer punish- ment.” The great Origen is full on not only the necessity of fasting in general, but on that of the universality and obligation of Lent in particular. In some copies, the following words of the before- named great St. Basil, upon this universal observance of Lent, are attributed to bim. Doubtless, they reecho his sentiments. “ Fast because thou hast sinned,” says St. Basil, “ and fast to pre- vent the danger of falling into sin. It is, therefore, to be con- sidered as a part of penance, by which we satisfy for past sins, and it is also an antidote against future sin, or relapses, and makes us victorious over all our spiritual enemies.” Again, in his Homily on the fast of Lent, he says, “ There is no island, no continent, no city, no nation, in which this fast is not pro- 3G claimed : armies, travellers, sailors, merchants, although far from home, everywhere hear the solemn promulgation, and receive it with joy. Let no one exclude himself from the number of those who fast, in which all men, of every age, of whatever rank or dignity, are comprised. Angels draw up the lists of those who fast. Take care that your angel puts down your name. Desert not the standard of your religion.” “ Sin must he punished,’* as St. Austin often says, “ either in this world, by our voluntary choice, or far more severely in the next, by the outraged justice of the offended Deity.” It is evident, then, from those unquestionable authorities, and from many others that might be cited, but are here too tedious to mention, that the quadragesimal fast has been considered by the Church from her infant days, as strictly binding on her children, and that such as did not observe it, she not only censured, but severely punished, as appears from the 69th of the Apostolical Canons, where it is declared, “ That if any Bishop or Priest does not fast the forty days of the Passover, let him be deposed ; but if he be a layman, let him be excommunicated.” Need I dwell, my brethren, on the relaxations that have taken place in the discipline of the fast of Lent, and on the permission now given, owing to a variety of causes, for the use of flesh meat on certain days, formerly prohibited ? But all this must convince you, still more, of the necessity of observing the fast and abstinence, now so moderate, and of supplying the deficiency with increased prayer, almsdeeds, and a penitential spirit. Much as we should esteem external penance, sorrow of heart for having offended God, and a resolution of not only avoiding sin, but all its occasions, for the future, must be our predomi- nant feeling. This great fast from sin, therefore, must be the foremost object of our souls. “ A man who fasteth for his sins," says the Lord, “ and doth the same again, what doth his humbling profit him ? Or who will hear his prayer ?” — Ecclus., xxxiv, 31. We must fast in reference to the heart, to the tongue, to the hands, to the feet, and to the whole body, mind, and soul. We must avoid all sin whatever. We must put on the real gar- ment of penance, in order to satisfy the offended majesty of * 37 God, and remove his provoked indignation. We must, to give joy to the inhabitants of heaven, assimilate ourselves to them by prudence, justice, temperance, fortitude, piety, and the fear of the Lord. We must avoid drunkenness, lust, envy, gluttony, pride, covetousness, and sloth, and every sin which excludes from heaven. You, fathers and mothers, must show by your example to your children and domestics, that you are really converted to the Lord. You must not only avoid your former sins and scan- dals, but attend to your religious duties during this holy season. You must let the pleasure of the theatre give place to prayer, meditation, and pious reading. Instead of a silly tragedy that so much hitherto occupied your attention, your whole mind must now be taken up with the terrible tragedy of mortal sin, and the awful punishments that await it. If the fictitious and the romantic have drawn tears from your eyes and sighs from your hearts, you must now sigh and weep sincerely at having your souls, which were made to the image of God, made types of iniquity and slaves of the devil, fitted for the residence of the damned by the daggers of hell and the powers of sin. Beware, my brethren, not to be lulled asleep by your enemies in this life, and those of your happiness in the next. An eternity of misery may follow if you unhappily neglect the present op- portunity of securing salvation by a salutary repentance. How many are running to the brink of eternity, wild with despair, who, if penitent, might die saints, and enjoy everlasting happi- ness ! But what have I said ? No ; you will not follow such unhappy mortals. You will not enter “the house of eternity” laden with the burden of your sins, unconfessed and unrepented ! You know you cannot find mercy at the hands of God if you do not sincerely repent of your mortal sins, and make due atone- ment for them. For Christ emphatically declares, “ unless you do penance, you shall all likewise perish.” Yes; he will con- demn you to dwell in the torments of hell, if you do not, by sincere Christian conversion, escape God’s vengeance, and the fire of his wrath ! But oh ! forbid it, great God, that any of you here should per- severe in your sins, or cease too late, by a fruitless repentance, to live as Christians ! Let all Catholics become sensible of the high dignity to which they are called. Let them remember, before time ends and eter- nity commences, that they should be sensible of their past folly, and humble themselves before the Almighty, in the language of the Prophet, “ to loose the bands of iniquity” ( Tsaias , lviii, 6), and render their fasts acceptable to God, and obtain his pardon and mercy. “ Be converted to me,” saith the Lord, “ with all your heart, and with fasting, with weeping and with mourning.” Hence, when the hardened people saith to the Lord, “ Why have we fasted, and thou hast not regarded ? Why have we humbled our souls, and thou hast taken no notice ?” ( Tsaias , lviii, 3); he answers, “ Behold, in the day of your fast, your own will was found,” (their own vile selfishness and uncharitableness). Hence, he tells them what they must add to fasting : “ Deal thy bread to the hungry, and bring the needy and harbourless into thy house ; when thou shalt see one naked, cover him, and despise not thy own flesh. Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall hear ; thou shalt cry, and he will say, Here I am.” — Ibid., 7, 9. Hence, St. Gregory says, “ It will be in vain for us to hope for pardon, whilst our unfeeling heart and other crimes rise up in judgment against us, and convict us loudly of impenitence.” We must, then, examine, confess, and abandon all sins — sins of malice, hatred, and revenge; sins of frailty, indolence, and neglect ; sins against God, our neighbour, and ourselves ; those sins which unfortunately, during a long life, may be more nume- rous than the hairs of our head, whilst our good works are com- paratively nothing, or unfrequent. Whilst we then stand upon the brink of the grave, and that eternity seems to open before us, let us not set at nought the mercy of God. Ah ! my brethren, let us not be doomed to senseless apathy, whilst the thunders of God’s justice threaten us. Let us settle our account with our chief creditor, “ whilst we are in the way” of making retribution, whilst “ this is the acceptable time, whilst these are the days of salvation,” as the Apostle of the gentiles says. “ It is terrible,” he adds, “ to fall into the hands of the living God” in a state of sin or impeni- 39 tence. If we have been negligent in observing the fast of Lent, and the other fasts of the Church, we have failed in one special part of the grand and important work of our salvation. Let * us, then, cry out with the penitent David, “ I will declare my iniquity, and think of my sin Have mercy on me, 0 God, according to thy great mercy, and according to the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my iniquity I did eat ashes like bread, and mingled my drink with weeping Night and day, I have watered my couch with my tears, and I have made hair- cloth my garment.” Remember, my brethren, that owing to the increased depravity of the great bulk of Christians, and to other causes, there has been of late much relaxation in the former rigorous and salutary austerities practised for so many ages, and prescribed by the Church during the Lent. The unexampled dearness of food, and also the peculiar privations of Catholics here, have induced the chief Pastor to yield to the pressure of circumstances, and made the Prelate of this diocese allow his beloved flock permission to eat flesh meat on Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, of Lent, at dinner. His request is, however, that a portion may be boiled, that soup and wholesome food may be given to the poor, for whose relief the relaxation is specially intended. The Prophet Isaias, reproving the avaricious during their fast (as we have seen), calls upon them to “break their bread to the hungry, and bring the needy and forlorn into their house.” And in the same sense, Ecclesiasticus says, “ Stretch forth thy hand to the poor, that thy expiation and thy blessing may be perfected.” — Ecclus ., vii, 36. Let us daily mourn and lament and satisfy for our sins ; sins in every stage of our existence ; sins in thought, in word, and in action; sins, in short, multiplied every day. Hitherto, my brethren, what penance have we performed to merit felicity, or secure our eternal salvation ? Let us be roused frotn our lethargy. Let us hasten to make up our final accounts, for in a very short time we shall be no more. What a dreadful thing it is to fall un- preparedly into the arms of death, from whence there is no re- turning or retreating ! As we have been hitherto most shamefully negligent, let us now be determined to commence the work of 2 3 8 1 9 40 our salvation by penitence, prayer, fasting, and mortification. Let us say with David, “I will humble my soul with fasting.” Let me for ever abandon my licentious conduct, and pray for that “ contrite and humble heart which the Lord will not despise.” To your prayer and fasting, add almsdeeds ; for mercy to the poor is most acceptable at this holy season. But, my brethren, your especial duty is to “ hunger and thirst after justice,” that “justice, without which no one can see God.” As you have for years devoted yourselves to the service of the world, for ever- more devote yourselves to the service of God. Remember, in the words of my text, that “ the Angels of heaven rejoice more over one sinner that doth penance, than over ninety-nine who need not penance.” Take, therefore, courage, and have com- fort ; that, if truly penitent, you will give Heaven joy and God delight. Take care also to avoid, for the future, sin of every de- scription. Let this Lent be a preparation for Easter, that you may truly rise with Christ. Prepare for death. Think of judg- ment, hell, and heaven. Reflect on the horrors of the damned, and upon the glories of the blessed. Implore the intercession of the Saints, especially of her who is the “ Queen of Saints,” that you may ever be here truly living members of the Church militant, and become for ever members of the Church eternal and triumphant in the heavens ! O Lord God ! to thee we cry. Vouchsafe, we beseech thee, that, complying with thy grace, we may so live and so die, as to be rewarded by thee and with thee for ever. Amen. 11 A SERMON ON BEHALF OF ORPHANS. “ Behold, now is the acceptable time ; now is the daj T of salvation .” — 2 Cor. vl, 2. J oyful are the tidings of which I am this day the charitable messenger. Our salvation, Christian brethren, is nearer than we expected ! The night is passed ; the day is at hand. Yes ; this very day of Advent tells us to he big with expectation, for the dark or hidden meanings of prophetic speech are shortly to be unravelled. Real presence will fill with glory symbolic space, for now “ the royal sceptre of the house of David” is swayed by a foreign hand. The expectation of nations, Christ, the Messiah, ■will in a few days enter into the world, and by the bright glare of his Divine presence, the dark clouds of ignorance and error, which have kept us ingulfed in the mire of corruption for so many ages, will he scattered, as by a whirlwind, in the tempest. The gates of heaven will once more lie open to “ the banished sons of Eve,” and the sad remains of a rebellious Adam will again enter the garden of Eden, the land of delight, the haven of eternal bliss. Hail, then, everlasting Light ! Eternal Son of the living God ! Hail, thrice hail ! O happy day ! 0 moment of joy ! Heavens ! what do I now behold ? How different is the scene ! T thought to be the messenger of comfort with the Epistle of this day, hut alas ! I must he the bearer of wo, by following the unerring light of this morning’s Gospel. Strange, indeed, are the signs which now present themselves to my astonished F 42 eyes. The full-orbed sun, which a few moments hence beamed with meridian splendour, emits not a single ray, and his bright garment is now exchanged for the gloomy horrors of the mid- night shade. The borrowed light of the moon has already de- scended into Egyptian darkness, and serves no longer as a guide to the nocturnal traveller. The refulgent stars tumble from their spheres, and reel in horrible confusion ; the noisy thunder rolls dreadful through the vast regions of air ; and the earth trembles to her foundation at the agitating shock. The glittering light- nings flash incessantly from the equator to the poles, and strike to death the arctic and antarctic savage. Created existence is all con- vulsed, and bids the world prepare ; and agonising nature, groan- ing with her weight, descends to primeval chaos. Bright amidst universal darkness, the Angel of the Lord appears, and with the shrill voice of the trumpet, calls on all mankind, and sum- mons them to judgment: “Arise, arise!” The yawning graves give up their obedient dead. The great valley is now prepared by the fiat of Omnipotence, and compassion and mercy retire sad from the field, while justice claims her rights, and sways alone the sceptre of dominion. Where now are the Caesars and Alexanders, the Cleopatras and Jezabels, the Platos and the Senecas ? Where, alas ! is fled the glory of the world ? Where is now tyrant ambition ? Where effeminate sensuality ? Your days are over ! Wise and great ones of the world, your boasted philosophy can no longer lull to false repose your injured consciences. You who waded through the blood of the poor, to possess and feast on their patrimony, read now the black, the dire list of your crimes, in the oppression of the unprotected widow and the starving or- phan. You, glutted offspring of vice, who revelled under the roof of voluptuous ease, and smiled in the cruelty of your aban- doned hearts o’er the misery of the naked garret, or pestilential cellar, how must not your leaden heart be now torn asunder, how dreadfully must your soul be harrowed, at the sight of your dark designs, now developed and exposed to your insulting enemies ! Once the slaves and victims of your passions, they are now called with a consoling, tender voice, to the happy abodes of immortality; while you. with a troubled brow, an internal hell flaming in your soul, must hear a dreadful, a harrowing sen- tence. Begone, yes, begone from me for ever, from heaven, from my Angels and Saints, begone, and lie buried in penal fire with the condemned flock of perdition ! Now it is that the living members of Christ shall be separated from the dead, the just man from the sinner; one is elected, the other reprobated. Hu- mility now triumphs over pride, tranquillity over impatience, modesty over sensuality, sobriety over drunkenness, piety over ir- religion, and persecuted poverty now laughs at proud, ungenerous opulence. The wicked father must bid an eternal adieu to his virtuous son, the adulteress mother must blush before her un- blemished daughter, the fratricidal Cain will be condemned in presence of the slaughtered Abel, Jacob will be separated from Esau, Isaac from Ismael, the chaste Susanna from polluted Bersabee, an innocent David from a treacherous Saul, and the black-hearted minister of the altar, the stooping hypocrite, from the charitable and truly zealous servant of the Lord. Where now, ambition, are all thy swelling titles, thy gaudy liveries of prostituted integrity, purchased by the most flagitious crimes, supported by the blood of famishing thousands ? Begone ! your seat is on the left. Where now, O sensuality ! are fled thy lasci- vious pleasures ? where dwell thy wanton harlots, on whose luxu- rious lap you dreamed of past intrigues, while locked in the me- retricious arms of concupiscence, and only awoke to sacrifice anew the rights of God, the dictates of reason, the pungent stings of your choked conscience ; to sacrifice, I say, every tender feeling of nature, every sentiment of honour and honesty, at the un- hallowed shrine of hellish impurity ? Ah ! offspring of vice, your giddy circle is run out, your day is past, never to return. Judgment now awaits you! Begone; go now and enjoy your harlots in the gloomy mansion of perdition. Covetous man, you who thought to quench your more than hydropical thirst with the gilded waters of Mammon ; who, borne on the unwearied pinion of avarice, passed from Africa’s heats to the ice of Green- land in search of gold, and returned laden with the treasures of the East to fill your rusty coffers. You who sucked the blood of the orphan, who fed on the bowels of the rifled widow, come now, the trumpet of justice hails your safe arrival in the land of 44 Josaphat : your thousands will not now serve to bribe the wrath of injured Heaven. The voice of the orphan, the shrieks of the widow, calling on Divine Justice to condemn their cruel oppres- sor, will harrow up your guilty soul, and send you, black with despair, to dwell in eternal darkness. Oh ! of this enough. I will no longer torment your wounded imagination with the melancholy picture of the last day ; hut at least, my brethren, as desirous of the salvation of every individual in this Christian assembly, permit me to exhort you to a timely preparation, that you may not wither through fear at the approach of judgment. Cast off, then, I beseech you, on this day, with St. Paul, “ cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armour of light.” Fear God and his judgment. Let not this fear, how- ever, be a mere servile fear, which is insufficient for salvation ; but let it be blended with the divine virtue of charity, the love of God and our neighbour. As “ avarice (according to the Apostle) is the root of every evil,” so, charity is the source of every virtue : with- out it we cannot be Christians ; without it we cannot be virtuous citizens, much less, faithful servants of Jesus Christ. Of charity, therefore, I intend to speak ; I will briefly describe its nature, and the happy consequences of its influence, and may God warm the hearts of my hearers, to become the guardians of the poor and fatherless, the protectors of these forlorn children, who seem already, with the sweet smiles of poverty, with the ten- der tear of gratitude, to thank me for exposing their wants, and you all, my brethren, for generously delivering them from the wintry blasts of famine and infamy. Fear not, my children ; de- pend on me as far as my power permits, and may Heaven inspire my audience to bless the cause of innocence and distress. Queen of Angels ! we beseech your powerful intercession, while we greet with Gabriel, in the sincerity of our hearts. Hail Mary, (See. Alas ! I am already lost in confusion, and scarcely one ray of hope cheers my desponding soul. What ! raise my voice in favour of the poor of Jesus Christ, at this day of irreligion and univer- sal depravity, when the spirit of Christian benevolence is choked up in the dark den of civil and religious factions, which have al- ready stamped the mark of disgrace on this our native land, and drenched her plains in the blood of her victimized children ! To what purpose do I recommend the divine virtue of charity, when that spirit which naturally resides in the heart of man, even in the wildest state of savage nature, seems now to be totally extin- guished, and banished from this frigid clime ? When the oblivion of our Eternal Father, and the oppression of our neighbour, are the divine precepts set forth by the religion of the day, founded on the visionary basis, on the irrational, incoherent principles of unsystematical deism, and the dark designs of selfish, intriguing, unchristian scribblers ; when virtue is oppressed and vice reward- ed ; in short, when the entire mass of Christians have buried every consideration, temporal and eternal, of God and of their neigh- bour, in the unsanctified grave of self-interest and greedy avarice, what can we expect ? To what purpose, I repeat, do I raise my voice, when little hopes can be entertained of cheering the cold heart of the hungry orphan with a morsel of bread, or exchanging the tattered weeds of distress for a warmer garment ? 0 irreligion of the day, O cruel insensibility ! O uncharitable, unchristian sons of Christian- ity ! Yet, when I look around me, and behold so many assembled here, in order to increase the store of oppressed poverty, my con- gealed heart is warmed with the rays of expectation, and joy once more bids me not despair ; nay, to hope for the flow of mercy ! Yes, if I mistake not, in this numerous congregation, I behold my Christian brethren of different denominations, who, drowning religious prejudice in the zeal of compassion, charitably yield to the claims of nature, and anxiously seek to alleviate the distresses of suffering humanity in all the tenderness of consoling and con- doling sympathy. So pleasing a sight compels me to imagine my- self transported for a moment to the sacred dwelling of the disci- ples of our Lord, when they eagerly expected in Jerusalem the descent of the Holy Ghost. There, the Parthian and the Arabian, the African and the Asiatic, the Roman and the Egyptian, joined hand in hand, and, filled with the Holy Spirit, sung forth, “ the wonderful works of God.” Here, in this holy temple, we will all, such as we are, offer together our sacrifices at the shrine of Cha- rity. We all expect salvation through the merits of the same cru- cified Jesus ; we are all consecrated to God by the same baptism ! The holy ashes of our Creed shall be deposited in the urn of cha- rity, nor shall they be ventilated by the ungenerous blasts of wild bigotry or fanatical superstition, whilst “ charity rejoiceth with truth.” “With the Jews,” says the great St. Paul, “I was a Jew, in order that I might bring them to the light of truth.” On ye all, I will call, my brethren, in the name of the Divine Jesus, the Source and Author of all charity, and to whom nothing is so pleasing as the practice of this divine virtue ; a virtue so closely allied to the principal root of all virtue — the love of God — that where one is, the other necessarily must he; and the absence of the one, must to a certainty include the absence of the other. Charity is the brightest star in the constellation of religion, the glorious daughter of heaven, which, leaning on the arms of faith, darts her rays of illumination on all sides, disperses the majestic clouds of mystery, and opens to our view the tabernacles of the Eternal, not made by hands. Charity is so interwoven with the nature of man, that the shivering inhabitant of the frigid zone is warmed by its influence, to look on the sufferings of his indigent neighbour with com- miserating feelings. Kind and genial in its nature, universal in its ardent exertions, it never can behold the distress of a fellow- creature with insensible composure, nor suffer the object of com- passion to pass by unheeded. Nothing, my dearly beloved brethren, is so truly grateful to the mind of our Divine Saviour, as that pure and extensive charity, which, regardless of every religious distinction, un- shackled by the prejudice of any order or sect of men, views with sympathetic sorrow the calamities of mankind, and has always a sigh for the miseries of human nature. As a proof of what I say, I appeal to the conduct of our Saviour with the inquisitive lawyer in the Gospel. An unfortunate traveller on “ his way from Jerusalem to Jericho, fell among some robbers, who wound- ed him, and left him half dead.” By chance there came down that way, a Jewish priest, and seeing the mangled body of the poor stranger, was struck with surprise at such unusual misery ; but, forgetting the object of mercy in the dark bigotry of opinion, and because he considered the dying man as an exile from the pale of his Church, with unfeeling serenity passed by, and rejoiced 47 that, as an infidel, he had no claim to his sacred interference. A Levite, also, when he came to the same place, looked on him unconcernedly, and, with deliberate composure, passed on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed on, came to where he was, and (as the sacred page assures us) when he saw him, he had compassion on him. Yes ; the generous- heart- ed Syrian, though a stranger to his religion, a stranger to his country, a stranger to his creed, harrowed through the heart at the sight of his fellow- creature’s suffering, sheds a tender tear of compassion, and with the most endearing officiousness, binds up his gaping wounds. “ And which of these three,” says our Saviour, “ was the neighbour unto him who fell among the thieves ? He that showed mercy, answered the lawyer : and then said Jesus, Go thou, and do likewise.” In this example, in which we may view a beautiful and strik- ing portrait of human nature, our Divine Redeemer clearly teaches us, that a confined spirit of charity is not that which draws down the blessings of Heaven. It must be unrestrained ; it must be universal in its influence. Even the professed minister of the altar we see here rejected by God, because, while he preached the Gospel of Charity, his bowels were locked, his loins were frozen, his heart was blunted, at once to the voice of pity and remorse ! It is not, therefore, because you belong to Cephas, or because you follow Paul, that you will be judged by your Creator. It is your charity that will be the barometer of your actions, the safeguard of your salvation, which salvation, as it cannot possibly be obtained without the aid of true faith in Jesus Christ, of which the unhappy children of infidelity are deprived, yet, I will say, that as our Divine Author cannot pass by a charitable act unrewarded, he will, by some secret ways, known to Omnipotence alone, and to his boundless mercy, confer on the merciful infidel the grace of vocation to the true faith, which, if properly applied, justification will follow, and every other attribute of everlasting salvation. Such, my brethren, is the wonderful influence which the di- vine virtue of charity has on the mind of a merciful Creator; and will not this more powerfully attract us all to a faithful dis- charge of this important duty ? we who, at our baptism, were 48 clad with the fair robes of charity ; for, remember, actions alone are the fruits of religion ; words are hut leaves ; and if this stole and white garment which I wear, he the only emblems of my charity, I am unworthy of the sacred charge of my ministry ; nay, I am unworthy of the name of Christian, much less of Catholic ! Such is the nature of charity. Let us, then, be charitable. Let us he friends to suffering humanity, and an advocate will not he wanting in the evil day. These orphans, relieved by your generosity, transplanted by your munificence from the cold bed of poverty, from the arms of infamy, to the vernal sunshine of purity and virtue, must remember you in the days of their pros- perity, and even in the busy circle of the world, will sigh forth a grateful prayer for their generous benefactors. If we are Christians, we ought to be charitable, for Christianity and charity are inseparable; if we mean to he worthy members of society, we ought also to be charitable, for no society can exist without it, as being the deep foundation, the strong basis of every political union amongst men. We will now, for a moment, divide, society into its rich and poor members. There is a mutual dependance existing between these two great bodies ; the rich could not live without the poor, nor the poor without the rich. The latter is bound to share with his indigent brother ; while he, on his part, must make a grateful acknowledgment by the sacrifice of his labour. Both equally contribute, in their respective spheres, to the harmony of society, by the charitable inferiority of the one, and the charitable su- periority of the other. Their obligations are perfectly distinct, but may and ought to be completely harmonious in the system of universal good. But when they swerve from these obligations, then it is that society groans convulsed, while anarchy, oppres- sion, and misery, raise their horrible aspects on the ruins of fra- ternal charity. The rich man becomes a tyrant, the poor man a rebel ; both war for their respective ends ; one to enslave, the other to be free ; and thus, both are traitors to the order and tranquillity which should unite man to his brother-man ; and thus, the pillars of society moulder into ruins wdien deprived of the sup- port of mutual charity. The brother now bleeds by the hands of 49 a brother; the well-earned property of the honest citizen becomes the pretended right of some illustrious robber ; and the fond wife is led captive to the meretricious arms of adultery. The faggot of revenge is lighted on both sides, and spreads its flames, from the proud palace of opulence, to the sordid huts of poverty and dis- ease. The cottager flees from his wife and babes, and seeks for protection in a happier soil ; while the statesman trembles in the execution of his civil authority, and doubts for a moment whether he lives or dies. Is not this the true picture of that confusion which must necessarily take place, when the chain of society is unlinked by the most flagrant encroachments on the law of charity ? Ah ! then, sensible as we are of the numberless benefits aris- ing from a well- organized society, let us reduce our theoretical principles to a Christian-like practice, and at once contribute to- wards the establishment of order, of charity, and of peace ! We have a very wide field within the bounds of our own metro- polis, where vice has grown wild, and spreads its seeds, more des- tructive than the adder poison, through every rank of society. It is, my brethren, by rocking our infants in the cradle of religion, by instructing them in the tenets of their holy belief, by pointing out their duties as Christians and as subjects, that we may expect a change for the better. Now that their minds are like the tender plants, bend them towards virtue, or they will quickly shoot into vice ; liquefy their young hearts with the sunbeams of your cha- rity, or petrify them by the congealing blasts of frozen avarice. And here I cannot pass by unnoticed the education of children now prevailing in the fashionable circle, which should be the first to hold out good example for the edification of others. The cruel mother, scarcely delivered of her child, consigns the tender off- spring of her womb to the care and protection of a venal stranger, who sells to the highest bidder, the precious gift of human nature, the nourishment of her blood, perhaps to the prejudice of the child of her own womb. There are some cases, I allow, where mothers are excused from this charge, but in general we behold them warring with the eternal decrees of Heaven, in order to be fashionable in the giddy world. Alas ! everything now, even the most sacred rights of nature, must be sacrificed at the shrine of fashion, and the Christian parent becomes more brutal than the G 50 savage beasts of the field, who low and bleat with anxiety after their tender young, and chide the unchristian parents for banish- ing their offspring. Ah ! for Heaven’s sake, for your own reputation, watch, fathers and mothers, their infant actions, give them good example by your own Christian behaviour ! Correct the vicious folly of your son, indulge not the vanity of your daughter, and even when you see them persecute with infant cruelty the harmless buzzing fly that flutters in despair on your window, then, Christian parents, stop the hand of your child, and teach him to be merciful. Tell him to be charitable towards an innocent creature, created by the same hand that he was, although destined for another end. In short, Christian father, if you are determined in the black- ness of your heart to blaspheme the sacred name of God, let not your son be present ! Christian mother, if you are resolved in your folly to follow your sinful course of vanity, let not your daughter view you at the toilet, while you stain your cheeks with the borrowed charms of Lusitania. In a word, if you intend plunging your own souls into the labyrinth of perdition, oh ! spare at least, for God’s sake, the tender offspring of your loins ! Save your innocent children, strangers as yet to the ways of vanity and vice. Sensible of your charitable intentions in assembling here this day, I now address you on the part of these poor orphans, male and female. They call on you for relief, and be not, in mercy, deaf to their voice of supplication ! When I read of a representative of the people, in a neighbour- ing inimical, apostate nation, calling aloud for an asylum to rear up their infants in the principles of an unintelligible liberty, I was edified, because he wished at least for the instruction of the ignorant. And shall we, my dearly beloved brethren, who as yet glory in the name of Christians, who as yet are consecrated to the Lord by Baptism, shall we, I say, neglect this important point ? When that very nation, glutted with victory in all quar- ters, was ready to vomit her warlike sons on our unprotected coasts, who flew to their protection ? Were they not the fathers, the brothers, the friends, or relations of these very children, whom you now behold ? Yes, though the thunders rolled, and the ca- taracts of heaven were opened, though the frost congealed tha vital spirits, and descending snows changed the royal livery of the soldier, yet we beheld them marching to the remotest comer of our isle with intrepidity, and with joy returning thanks to Heaven for their victorious triumphs. They, then, who spared you from the horrors of war — whose fury even Janus desires to confine within the walls of his temple — deserve your attention. Wipe away, therefore, the tear of sorrow from a generous, though poor father, by affording succour to his starving child in this crisis of universal misery and grief. Ah ! touched to the heart with human wo, enter ye all with me into the gloomy horrors of the unroofed garret, the sordid dwelling of cheerless poverty. View on all sides, how misery moans unheard, distant from the hand of relief ; how sickness pines away unpitied, while tyrant famine and parching thirst burn the remaining vitals of animated shadows, and the agonising wife lies stretched on the dead carcase of a once fond husband, while their surrounding infants rot in raging fevers, and scream aloud for food in the dreadful accents of despair ! Are not even the very doors of our sanctuary blocked up with supplicants, whose sickly countenances, whose skeleton frames, cry aloud for the grave as the termination of their long sufferings ? Are there not myriads of human victims, cast out on the world friendless and unprotected, who are compelled to seek refuge from famine in the arms of infamy, whom that money nightly wasted at the card-table would render useful and influential members of society, and the brightest ornaments of the state ? One thought of all this, one serious reflection on the sufferings of your fellow -creatures, and can you refuse your alms ! Ah ! no, no ! The hearts of my hearers, I hope, are formed of milder clay. They are, I am sure, the dwelling-places of nobler pity, where every kind and tender emotion resides in harmonious peace, but learns to weep over the misfortunes of a brother. Remember, then, it is on the part of man, on the part of wo- man, I address you this day ; the most noble or most debased of Gods creatures ; the most invaluable blessing of society when in- nocent, or the severest scourge of the wrath of Heaven when corrupted ! We behold man, while virtuous, cultivating the soil, 52 and happy he deems himself, if, under all the rigours of succeed- ing seasons, he can afford to himself, his loving wife and chil- dren, the frugal, scanty meal of poverty. But when vitiated, on the contrary, we behold him prowling, like the beast of prey, through all ranks and degrees, and ceasing from mischief only when lulled by intoxication, that more than beastly vice, that de- testable plague, the scourge and curse of our unhappy country, the general, nay, I will say, the only cause of all our national crimes and misfortunes. Yet this abominable drunkenness has spread its contagion, even from the brawling fish-hawker to the muddling lady in her closet, and from the peasant to the peer. Woman, while virtuous, we behold as a household goddess, leading her tender offspring in the paths of innocence, instructing them, as they advance, in the articles of their creed, and guarding them by her precepts against the corruption of the world. We see her with her husband, softening all the coarser passions of his soul, alluring him by the most endearing wiles to habits of tem- perance and virtue, and often, with ineffable sweetness, smiling over the ruins of an abating storm. But view her when neglected and thrown out on the world ; alas ! gloomy is the prospect, and blackened with untold misery ! Cast off from the arms of her first seducer, she boldly vows vengeance against the human race, and stript of all shame, with the harlot of Babylon, she boldly offers herself to prostitution, spreading pestilence in her track, till at length, worn out by accumulated disease, she either falls to ashes amid surrounding flames, or terminates her unfortunate career on the public scaffold of infamy ! O Heavens ! and is it thus fair woman dies, when robbed of her purity ? Thus, when the pure day has closed his sacred eye, the indomitable lioness, robbed of her cubs, and licensed by the shading hour of guilt, darts fierce from the wilds of Lybia or from Africa’s inhospitable woods, and scorning all the arts of taming man, roams wildly through the plains, spreading carnage around, and with horrible roars, de- mands of the neighbouring forest her wonted food ; till at length she is espied by the sable hunter of Mauritania, who, horrified at the sight, applies his best arrow to the bow, and brings the brawny savage groaning to the earth, where she lies, a stiffened corse, the prey of devouring vultures ! Ah ! then, spare poor woman, our solace in misery, the orna- ment of our prosperity, and our companion in adversity. Do we not read of a Lucretia, who, with unexampled heroism, plunged the poniard into her tender bosom, thus preferring death to a life of conjugal pollution ? Do we not read of a Grecian daughter, who, amidst surrounding destruction, braved the iron horrors of a dungeon, and supported a dying father with the milk of nature ? Ah ! then, I repeat, spare this dear friend to man, or will you rather spare your money ? Cruel miser, if any such dishonours this Christian assembly, who, while he hears me plead in favour of these poor children, feels his heart unmoved, and cold as the clay of the grave ; who, in all the frost of the most congealed apathy, calmly gapes on their bleeding wounds ; if, I say, any such be here, let him retire from among the children of God, with the orphan’s curse on his head ; let him depart from this tem- ple of sanctity, and stain not its sacred floor with his polluted tracks ! Sons of mercy, seize on the ensanguined monster, drag him without pity to some unhallowed spot of ground, never con- secrated to Heaven by the voice of the Church ; there bury him alive in his native land, and there despair will expand her raven wings as a black monument over the dead, that every gazing passenger may read in sable letters, “ Here lies the tyrant of the poor ; here lies cruel avarice.” Surely, no such spirit can prevail here, where compassion seems painted in the countenance of all, male and female, but particu- larly the latter, whom with sensible pleasure I behold so nume- rous on this charitable occasion. Yes, ye fair ones, charity should be the leading feature in your character ; and though the world may stigmatize you as vain, I will not hesitate to call you hu- mane, while you stretch forth your hands in favour of your suf- fering sisters. Nature, by your more delicate organization, seems to have formed woman for the more refined sentiments of the soul, and the more tender feelings of the human heart. From you, there- fore, much is expected. But if, amidst such white garments, fair emblems of purity, a heart should be concealed of a mid- night hue, what must I say, if, while warmed at this cold season of the year with the muff and tippet, purchased at so dear a rate from the frozen Muscovite, you still view the sorrow of these or- 54 phans with the petrified insensibility of a monumental statue, to what must I compare you ? I will compare you to a sepulchral monument, which — . But no, I will go no further ; I will wave the sad comparison, and in the zeal of charity, spare your feelings. Ah ! then, for Heavens sake, my brethren, spare those innocent young ones ; spare them from vice and infamy, and bestow them to their God. Behold in each of them the infant Jesus, naked, poor, and helpless, who calls on you all for food and raiment. If you deny him, remember the last day ! Kemember the accu- sation which will he brought against you : “ I was hungry, and you gave me not to eat ; thirsty, and you gave me not to drink ; sick, and in prison, and you did not visit me.” Let this reflection harrow your very soul, and move you to compassion, that this day may prove joyful to poverty and dis- tress. Now, my children, bend your little knees before the throne of Heaven, and with uplifted hands and pious hearts, thank the Al- mighty for his sacred interference in your cause, and beg of him, in the fervour of your innocent souls, that blessings, tenfold blessings, spiritual and temporal, may light on the heads of all your generous benefactors. Amen. — May God bless you all. A SERMON ON PRAYER. “ Amen, amen, I say unto you, if you ask the Father anything in my name, he will give it to you. — Ask and you shall receive, that your joy may be complete." — St. John , xvi, 23, 24. Nothing, surely, can more powerfully attract the followers of our Divine Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, to the faithful dis- charge of the important duty of Prayer, than this fond and en- dearing invitation of our amiable Kedeemer, who solemnly de- clares, in my text, that anything we ask of his Eternal Father in his name, shall certainly he granted unto us. Christ, who is veracity by essence, cannot deceive ; we, there- fore, cannot question his promise for one moment without offer- ing the grossest insult to the Author of all truth. Prayer, then, is the first duty of man. It is his sole resource and only conso- lation, under the trials of affliction ; and to speak in the language of the Holy Ghost, “ Prayer is the entire man.” Let us but reflect for one instant on our origin, our situation, our nature, our wants, and lastly, on our place of abode, and from all we must infallibly conclude, that prayer is absolutely ne- cessary in this land of misery. Every object which environs us, seems as it were leagued with our native corruption, with our in- nate weakness and imbecility, in order to seduce us from the path of virtue and morality, and decoy us from our duty by the syren voice of temptation. Kiches corrupt the heart, poverty debases it, pleasures seduce it, and pious works too often excite our pride. Learning inflates us with vanity, while ignorance, on the other hand, leads us into the most deplorable errors. Health awakens the slumbering pas- sions, and sickness feeds our mournings and lamentations. In short, since the fall of man, all nature seems to war against our happiness, and every object around us appears as a fresh danger to be dreaded. In a situation so wretched, and so much to be regretted, what beam of hope, what ray of Heaven, could possibly cheer unhappy, fallen man, if, from the depth of his misery, he could not waft a sigh towards the throne of mercy, to engage the aid of his great Maker, and secure the protection of Heaven to guard his salva- tion ? The Christian, therefore, who does not pray, is blind to his own interest, is deaf to the fond invitation of the Divine Jesus, is a stranger to the sweets of religion, and worse than an unbe- liever. I know you will tell me, that you all pray, that night and morn- ing, on bended knees, you adore your great Creator, and send forth petitions to Heaven suited to your exigencies ; hut as yet, your wishes have not been accomplished. Ah ! my brethren, I doubt not hut it may he so ; hut tell me, how do you ask blessings from God ? You must know, that every request is not a prayer, and Christ has not promised that anything shall he heard but our prayers. “ Therefore, I say to you,” says Christ, (St. Mark , xi, 24), “ all things, whatsoever you ask, wdien ye pray, believe that you shall receive, and they shall come unto.” Thus, my be- loved brethren, is the mystery unfolded ; thus I clearly understand how you have asked so many favours, and have not received them. It is not that your Saviour has deceived you, but you have de- ceived yourselves. For, says the Apostle St. James (iv, 3), “ You ask and receive not, because you ask amiss.” Hitherto, you have used the name of Jesus in vain, because you have used it to wrong purposes, or in a wrong manner. Your heart did not accompany your lips, and your actions gave the lie to your words. “ Until now, you have not asked anything in my name,” says Jesus Christ ; from which it would not be lawful to infer, that tbe bare mention of his holy name stamps a value on our petitions. No, my brethren, such a worship w r ould be the most barefaced hypocrisy, and a most glaring profanation of the majesty of the Lord, and therefore, not surprising, if, instead of blessings, you heaped curses on your heads. Awake, then, my brethren, from your illusion ; accept cheer- fully the gracious invitation of your Redeemer. “ Ask and you shall receive, that your joy may be complete.” Since the Gospel of this day naturally points out the subject of this evenings discourse, my object shall be, to teach you how to pray with success, in order that the promise of my Divine Re- deemer may be fulfilled in each individual of this Christian as- sembly. In the mean time, O thou all- gracious and merciful God ! fill our souls with the plenitude of thy grace, and raise our heavy hearts to thee ; that having once tasted the sweets of spi- ritual conversation with thee, we may eagerly thirst after the foun- tain of all happiness, and seek after pure and solid delight, in frequent and fervent prayer. What is prayer ? Prayer, my brethren, is a kind of spiritual intercourse with God. It is an humble elevation of the soul and heart to his Divine Majesty, to implore the grace, relief, and assistance we stand in need of under our trials and mis- fortunes; and therefore, whenever we pray, we ought to ap- proach the Lord with the most profound respect and reveren- tial awe. Prayer is not, in fact, an exertion of the mind, a skil- ful arrangement of ideas, or a profound knowledge of the mys- teries of faith, or the counsels of the Eternal. No ; it is a simple emotion of the heart, a lamentation of the soul, deeply affected at the sight of its own wretchedness. It is neither a secret nor a science, that we must learn from men. It is a duty in which we are all born instructed. The rules of this divine science are written solely in our hearts, and the spirit of God is the only Master who can teach it. “ The commandments which I com- mand you,” said the Lord formerly to his people, “ are neither above your strength, nor the reach of your mind. They are not hidden from you, nor far off; but the word is very nigh unto you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it.” Such is the whole secret of prayer, from the mouth of our Di- vine Lord himself. And, my brethren, who, in fact, instructed the poor woman of Canaan, who wished to obtain from the Son of H 58 David, the recovery of her daughter ? Persuaded of his power, and expecting everything from his usual goodness to the unfor- tunate, she prostrates herself before him, and in the fullness of her heart, cries out, “ Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou Son of David !” Thus did the daughter of Sidon, though unacquainted with the oracles of the Prophets, and blinded in the mists of idolatry ; thus, I say, she addressed Jesus Christ. Her love for her daughter, and her confidence in Christ, taught her how to pray. The tender feelings of her fond heart constitute the whole merit and the whole sublimity of her prayer. Would that the Christian would learn from the pagan the true method of preferring his petitions to the throne of the Almighty ! But alas ! how scandalous and shameful is not the conduct of by far the major part of the anointed children of the Gospel, when they appear on bended knees, before the Majesty of Heaven, to ask for the most signal favours ! Instead of appearing recollected, and in the humble posture of penitents, they negligently loll on the next bench or chair, and thus hum over a routine of prayer, whose length sickens them, and fatigued by the dreary task, they often, while addressing Heaven, close their eyes, to dream on the things of earth, and forget their Creator in the contemplation of the creature ! Ah ! my brethren, is this the way to pray ? Is it thus we are to perform the most solemn act of religion ? Ah ! no. This is insulting the Almighty, whose majesty should fill our souls with awe when we address him. When at prayer, our limbs ought to be decently composed, our body erect, our knees on the ground, our eyes either modestly closed, or decently fixed on our book, on our crucifix, or any other object that may raise our attention to the heavenly abode of the Angels. In short, your external behaviour should express in- ternal reverence and awe, for, what can he more shameful than to see a Christian, in the presence of his God, behave with indif- ference and levity, in the very act of humbly imploring his as- sistance? And yet, 0 immortal Majesty of Heaven! O Thou, before whom the Angels tremble and the wide earth quakes from its foundations, how often art thou thus grossly insulted ! How often do thy children, in praying to thee, behave with an indignity of deportment, which they dare not presume to use in the pre- sence of the vilest of their fellow- creatures ! And this is one great cause why we so often pray in vain. “We ask, and we re- ceive not” says the Apostle James, “ because we ask amiss” The dignity, therefore, of prayer, requires the most Christian- like and becoming decency in our external behaviour ; but inter- nal recollection is still a more essential condition to stamp a ster- ling value on our prayer. " The Almighty searches the reins and penetrates the heart,” and therefore must necessarily be roused to indignation, when he beholds his creature presuming to call his attention from the highest heavens, while at the very same instant, that vile creature disdains to honour his awful Majesty with that internal recollec- tion, that hallowed attention, which is unquestionably the Sove- reign right of the Lord ! Our Divine Redeemer justly declares to the Pharisees his in- dignation at such treatment. “ Ye hypocrites,” says he, “well hath Isaiah prophesied of you, saying, this people honour me with their lips, but their heart is far from me, and in vain, there- fore, do they worship me.” Ah 1 Christians, dearly-heloved Chris- tians, and are there no Pharisees here ? Are there no hypocrites amongst us ? Would to Heaven we could answer in the negative ; but alas ! I fear we cannot, unfortunately, do so. Let our lips, then, and our hearts go hand in hand, accompanied, at the same time, with the tender overflowings of a pure mind, undefiled by the malice of sin. Without this last condition, we have no room to hope that our offering can be acceptable to the Lord. It would be the most insolent arrogance to expect it. Prayer consists not in mere words. “ No,” says the Venerable Bede, “ prayer consists not merely in the utterance of a few sup- plicating expressions, but in faithfully and devoutly fulfilling our du|y to our Creator.” You must be free from the stains of mortal sin, for, as the Wise Man says, “ The sacrifices of the wicked are abomination to God ;” and in another place he de- clares, that “ he who turns away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be execrable.” Reflect, my brethren, on this most important condition of prayer. Yes, seriously reflect, how often you have bent your knees to God, to implore his divine aid, 60 while your hearts were stubbornly wedded to some sinful idol of your own corrupt inclinations. How often have you approached to the fountain of God’s mercy, with your soul literally crusted over with uncleanness ! Cease, then, to wonder at the little ad- vantage you have reaped from your multiplied petitions ; rather wonder at and acknowledge the merciful goodness of God, in not exterminating you from the face of the earth, for presuming to insult him with “ prayers which were abominations in his sight.” It was for want of internal purity, that David, with all his hu- miliation of mind and heart, was refused his petition. When he prayed for the life of the child of his sin, as St. Augustine re- marks, he had not, says this holy Doctor, been sufficiently cleansed from the guilt of his sin. His sorrow for having offended God was mingled with an anxious concern for the fruit of his of- fence. In short, his contrition was no*t equal to his crime, and therefore, he “ asked and received not, because he asked amiss.” In prayer, then, the senses should he composed, the soul unsul- lied, the heart and mind must he fixed on Heaven. These are the conditions absolutely necessary to dignify our petitions with the sainted name of prayer. But you must likewise observe, that even with these conditions, you are not promised all things you ask absolutely, but all things you ask praying, that is, all law- ful demands. Whenever, therefore, you ask for anything unlaw- ful, you cannot be said to pray, and, consequently, will not be gratified in your desire. The Boyal Prophet, in the abundance of his grief, called on God to preserve the life of the offspring of his adultery. The request was unlawful, because the Almighty had already declared by the mouth of his Prophet Nathan, that he would manifest his divine justice in the death of that child, whose life might have been of such dangerous consequence to the salva- tion of David, and diametrically opposite to the glory of God. No wonder, then, that all his tears, humiliations, and petitions for the life of the infant should not avail. In like manner, my brethren, you often ask favours of Heaven, that nothing hut the surest vengeance of the Almighty’s vexation could possibly in- duce him to grant you. You ask prosperity in undertakings which, on strict examination, are found most abominably criminal. You petition for an ample fortune; you pray that such a female may 61 become your wife, or such a man your husband, and so on ; but how do you know but this fortune, this wife or husband, may wean your heart from God, rivet your attachment more strongly to the things of this earth, and at length prove the fatal cause of your eternal damnation ? Therefore, “ you ask, and receive not, because you ask amiss.” Ah ! then, dearly beloved in Christ Jesus, if you sincerely desire to be refused nothing, ask what is lawful and consistent with God’s glory and your own welfare, both temporal and eternal. Ask the grace of God and your salvation. These must be grant- ed in virtue of the divine promise of Christ : “ Ask, then, the king- dom of heaven, and all things else shall be added to you, over and above.” In short, my brethren, to epitomise what I have said ; if you pray with outward reverence, with inward purity, attention, fervour, and patience, there is no miracle which such prayers can- not obtain. Thus did the Prophet Elias obtain the blessing of a child for his long-unfruitful hostess. Thus did the centurion solicit the reestablishment of his servant’s health. Thus did the prince of the synagogue force, in a manner, the Divine Jesus to restore to him living his deceased daughter, who was the idol of his affections. Thus, in a word, did the humble publican, pros- trate in the temple, call down the assistance of the Most High, to unload him of the unwieldy and overgrown burden of his sins, while, in humble confidence, he utters his petition : “ God be mer- ciful to me a sinner.” And accordingly, says our Saviour, “ this man went down to his house justified.” Hear, then, the terms which your God vouchsafes to make with you, by the mouth of his Prophet Isaiah : “ Wash you, make you clean : cease to do evil, learn to do well ; pray, and though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be made as white as snow.” What say you, Christians ? Can you have souls, and refuse so gracious an invitation ? No, it cannot be possible for you to refuse. Thus far have I endeavoured to teach you how to pray at large, and in every situation. Allow me now to introduce you into the temple of God, which is emphatically styled in Scripture, “ The House of Prayer.” The whole universe, it is true, is a temple which God filleth with his glory and with his presence. Wherever we go, says the 02 Apostle, He is always beside us ; “ in Him we live, move, and have our being.” Nevertheless, in all times, particular places have been consecrated to him, which he has honoured with a special presence. The Patriarchs erected altars to him on certain spots where he had appeared. The Israelites in the desert considered the tabernacle as the residence of the glory of God, and, returned from their captivity, they adored the majesty of that God in that august temple erected to him by Solomon in the city of Jerusa- lem. At the birth of the Gospel, the houses of believers were at first domestic churches. The cruelty of tyrants obliged the primitive followers of Christ to seek obscure and hidden places to conceal themselves from the rage of persecution, and there to celebrate the holy Mysteries and invoke the name of the Lord. The Christian religion, at length, in the reign of a Caesar, had its Davids and its Solomons, who blushed to inhabit superb palaces, while the Lord had not whereon to lay his head. Sumptuous edifices gradually arise, the God of heaven resumes his right on earth, temples are consecrated to his worship, and become the hal- lowed residence of his majesty. Such is the sacred dwelling where we are all now assembled, and where, at stated times, we meet to pray. The altar of heaven has but a slight advantage over that altar we now behold there : the Victim which we there immolate, is the Lamb of God; the bread of which we participate, is the immor- tal Food of the Angels in glory. The mystical wine we there drink, is that with which, according to holy writ, the blessed spirits make glad in the kingdom of heaven. In short, our tem- ples are the new heavens, which Isaiah long since promised to men. With justice therefore is this house called the House of Prayer. And if the universal presence of God requires, that in all places we should appear pure and clean in his eyes, doubtless still more in this sanctuary, where the Divinity as I may say corporeally re- sides, lest the sanctity of the Godhead, who filleth and dwelleth in it, be dishonoured by our crimes. Our temples, therefore, ought to be the house of the righteous alone, who are fond of and devoted to prayer. If, my brethren, you come here, not to pray, hut to gaze, to admire, to see, and to be seen, it were far better you had remained at home. In 03 the eyes of God you are accursed, and have no right in the altar or in the sacrifice ; you are one who comes to stain by your pre- sence the sanctity of the awful Mysteries ; to seat yourself in a place where you have no right to be, and from whence the Angel of the Lord, who watches at the gate of the sanctuary, invisibly chases you, as he formerly did the first sinner from that place of innocence, sanctity, and prayer, which the Lord had consecrated by his presence. You are as anathematized or separated from all the rest of your brethren, a base impostor, who secretly disavow what you publicly profess. You are come to insult religion, and to reject all share in the atonement of Jesus Christ, in the very moment that he is offering up his precious blood to his eternal Father, as the seal of his love and the price of your redemption ! But, if mere neglect of prayer, if inattention to the Divine Mysteries, is an irreverence by which the sanctity of the temple of God is defiled, what, 0 my God ! shall I say of those who change the house of prayer into an asylum of vice and amorous intrigue ? What shall I say of those who appoint the holy place, the very house of the awful Mysteries, to inspire infa- mous passions, to form criminal desires, to look for oppor- tunities which decency alone prevents from seeking elsewhere ? What shall I say of those who pervert what is most holy in religion, into the instrument of their damnation ? Who choose thy presence, great God ! to reveal the secret of an impure passion, and make thy holy temple a rendezvous of iniquity, more dangerous to youth than the most wicked assemblies of the ungodly ! What guilt, O Heavens ! to come to the dwelling of Jesus Christ, to crucify him anew in the very place where be daily offers himself for us to his Eternal Father ! Great God ! when insulted on Mount Calvary, where thou wert still a suffer- ing God, the tombs opened around Jerusalem, the dead arose, as if to reproach their descendants with the horror of the sacrilege. Ah ! reanimate, then, the ashes of our sainted forefathers ; let their bodies return from the dark dwelling of the tomb ; let them appear before the profaners of the temple, and inflamed with a holy indignation, let them, with a voice of thunder, warn them of their approaching damnation. But, what do I say ? Unable to withstand the shock of such extravagant, such horrible licen- 04 tiousness, oar venerable ancestors would precipitately retire to their abandoned graves, weeping over the misfortunes and the crimes of their posterity. Nothing, believe me, my brethren, can rouse the wrath of your Redeemer equal to the profanation of the sanctuary. Though mercy is his darling attribute, yet, the outrage of the temple armed his gracious hands with the rod of justice and wrath. He who did not condemn a public adulteress, and who forgave the de- baucheries and scandals of the prostitute of the city, was filled with indignation on beholding the house of his Father dishonour- ed, and the place of prayer turned into a house of traffic, of ava- rice, and debauchery. His zeal on this occasion admits of no de- lay ; scarcely has he entered Jerusalem, when he flies to the holy place, to avenge the honour of his Father, there insulted, and the glory of his house, which the profaners dishonour. And what lenity can you expect from Jesus, ye modern profaners of his temple ? Has his glory been diminished, or is he now less jealous of his honour than formerly ? Ah ! no ; the severest punishment awaits the transgressor who dares to violate the sanc- tity, the purity of his temple. Thou art terrible in thy judgments, O my God, and thy chastisements are generally the more rigorous, the longer they are delayed. Let us all, then, seriously reflect on this great truth ; let us bring it home to ourselves, that we may all learn to carry with us to the house of prayer, a spirit of piety and compunction, of adoration and praise, that thus we may never quit it without en- riching our souls with some new grace, and an additional relish for the joys of heaven. Let prayer, in fine, be our consolation in the hour of trouble, the asylum of our affliction, the resource of our necessities, and our recreation from the fatigues of the world. Thus it will prove the safeguard of our faith here, and lead us hereafter to the eternal joys of the heavenly Jerusalem. Amen. A SERMON ON THE ROOMKEEPERS’ SOCIETY. jDrotheiis, Christians, and Irishmen, you have frequently as- assembled together, invited by the voice of humanity, supplica- ting aid for the distressed, and that voice has rarely or never ap- pealed in vain. You have edified, you have indeed astonished surrounding na- tions, by the extensive effects qf the native sympathy of Irish hearts. The sums collected in a single house of worship in a few minutes appeared incredible, even to the opulence of London and Amsterdam. Amazing, indeed, when compared with our cramped industry and limited means. This native generosity forms my sure hope for the success of my application this day. On the fund of Irish charity I propose to erect a fabric that shall receive and relieve a description of per- sons, whom to name, is sufficient to awaken in all commiseration amidst scenes of pain, of agony, and horror ; indigent fellow- creatures, writhing in the tortures of contagion, and the flames of burning fever and famine. If the success of this day’s applica- tion depended on the talents, the eloquence, the address of the preacher, I might be afflicted at the issue, and tremulous for the result ; for the very unbounded liberality of the people forms the difficulty of the speaker. Even the best things lose something of their force by frequent repetition. What can at this day be brought forward, either by way of appeal to the understanding or to the feelings, that is not familiar to your ears ? What object of human distress has not been embraced in the comprehensive I 06 range of your public and private charities ? What scene of misery has not been forcibly pourtrayed, and as promptly relieved ? Under all these circumstances, so discouraging, it is necessary to pronounce a discourse on the subject of this day’s meeting ; because it is customary, something is expected. It may also have its use, if not to rouse your feelings, if not to implore your mercy, which I well know to be alive to the extreme importance of the subject, at least to justify to your understandings the noble, the divine impulses of Christian charity, operating on generous minds — on Irish minds. Your feelings, your whole heart and in- clinations are with me. I am aware of it, and I feel strong in the support of such powerful auxiliaries. If I could apprehend any damping influence, it would be from the pitiful suggestions of a short-sighted part of wisdom, called by some prudence, and better named cunning or selfishness. Even on this score I am pretty free from any serious uneasiness. The plodding, cold calculators, who habitually extinguish every generous sentiment, abound not among those who form this audience. But at all hazards, it is not difficult to justify the utmost reach, and what an Englishman or Dutchman would call the extravagance of Irish charity. I could find no insuperable difficulty in proving from reason and revelation, from a general view of the subject, or a distinct consideration of your present object, that your ut- most bounty offends not against the laws of prudence. I do not mean the prudence of the changeling nor the prudence of the usurer — the hard-hearted Dives — which leads to perdition ; but the prudence of the Gospel, which is the only genuine wisdom, and the only true moral philosophy. This heaven- descended philo- sophy gives you the glorious Father of heaven and earth as your father, and all the children of men, without distinction of na- tion, colour, or creed, as your brothers. In this respect, they are all members of the same family, coheirs of the same glorious inheritance, and bound together, not more by the compacts of society, which unite to secure persons and property, than by the divine laws of charity, which command us to relieve our sick and distressed brethren. I know that the selfishness and pride of the human heart have taught another doctrine, and have disseminated its pernicious 07 errors on this subject of property according to the low and sordid maxims of this fallacious sophistry. Hence, their cunning but cruel assertions, as unchristian as they are inhuman : “ My property is so much my own, that I may do with it just what I please or, to use the words of a certain noble English peer, “ I may throw it into the sea if I please.” Ah ! my lord, you may, indeed, by the law of the land. But remember, it is possible to evade this law, and yet be a consum- mate villain. A noble lord has many privileges. He may op- press the poor to a great degree, without the fear of law. He may squander thousands at the gambling table, in useless amuse- ments or pernicious luxuries. He may lavish treasures wrung from the toil and sweat of the laborious, ill-fed, ill- clothed, and worse-lodged peasant, to pamper the idle, the profligate panderers, the ministers of his vices, and companions of his dissipation. He may rob the widow and the orphan of their just rights, in order to seduce female innocence, spreading the contagion of an odious disorder, the creation of his own profligate manners, far and wide. He may be a leviathan in wickedness by the privilege of the law ; but the noble lord has also the privilege of going, in the company of his associates, to the assembly of Lucifer and his angels, whom similar pride brought to the dreadful abode of tor- ments everlasting ! But I go farther, and state a case which our Saviour in the Gospel has stated before me ; namely, that of Lazarus and Dives. The rich man is not depicted as immersed in vice, or addicted to the grosser acts of oppression or wickedness that attach odium to a character. He would probably be considered, in our days, a very sweet, inoffensive sort of gentleman, who kept a good table, and lived in a genteel style. “ He was clothed in scarlet and fine linens, and lived sumptuously every day.” How many are ready to cry out, “ Why not ? What have I money for, but to spend it ? Go to the poor-house, you rascals ; and send for the black cart.” Human law allows all this. You may be a Dives, and be even respected as an elegant or genteel fellow. You will not be sent to Newgate or the gallows, but you will go where Dives went before you. Your sentence, if you do not repent, is already pronounced by Him who is to “judge both the living and the 08 dead.” The very name of hell is offensive to “ polite ears.’’ Is it so, forsooth ? and how will they relish the reality ? Polite mouths must swallow nauseating and hitter drugs from the hands of the physician, to save the body from dissolution. And shall not “ polite ears” bear the saving, though awful warnings of the Gospel of Jesus Christ ? Is it not better to be shocked and alarmed here, than to bum hereafter ? Oh ! if you cannot bear the sound of formidable truths, destined to save you from tremen- dous realities, how will you bear the awful, the harrowing sen- tence of the Sovereign Judge, who is no respecter of polite per- sons or polite ears, and who placed the ragged, filthy beggar, who died on a dunghill, in glory, whilst he thundered the soul- rending, the annihilating sentence of everlasting damnation on the accomplished and elegant bon vivant : “ Go from me, thou accursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.” And what offence had the said gentleman committed to in- cur the awful sentence ? Did he bum houses ? Did he molest in- nocent females ? Did he rob or pillage ? Did he torture and flog, even to death, hang or shoot, and punish with pitch-caps ? Nothing of all this. I cannot find these vigorous exploits beyond law to have been tolerated, licensed, or the perpetrator indemnified by the laws of the Caesars. He is not accused of being either a spy, informer, or assassin ; or selling his country, and with it, his own children, to the latest posterity, to oppressors. No, nothing of all these crimes is laid to his charge ; but simply — would you believe it, ye wise men of the age ? — for thinking like most men of fashion now- a-day, that his money was his own, and he might expend it as he pleased. He was deaf to the cries of the poor. Learn from this, that the law of charity is as obligatory as any other divine law. Without that divine principle of active benevolence, all other gifts and qualities avail you nothing. Your negative inno- cence, and even usefulness, go for nothing. On men who could plead more than mere negative justice, the awful sentence was pronounced, “ Depart from me, ye accursed, for I was hungry, and you fed me not ; I was thirsty, and you gave me not to drink ; I was naked, and you clothed me not and declared that the treatment they had given the poor and needy would be con- sidered as given to Jesus Christ in person. G9 It is a false and damnable doctrine that “ every one is at liberty to use his property according to his own desire.” Remember, proud, presumptuous man, that there is one high and paramount Proprietor of heaven and earth, and of all things contained therein. Remember that you are not the lord of God’s creatures, neither of the soil, nor the metals contained therein, nor the beasts that feed thereon ; but only the fellow- servant and steward, clothed with a “ little brief authority” and administration, to which a severe responsibility is attached, before the all- seeing Judge, who cannot be bribed nor be deceived. Responsibility, then, to God, to the community, and to your own soul, belongs or is extended to the use or employment of property as to time, to actions, and to words, in every transaction that can interest or affect the well-being of others or of yourself. There can be no mere discretionary power without risk or responsi- bility allowed in heaven above or on the earth beneath ; for the great and just God has passed no indemnity bills to screen offen- ders against the laws from just punishment. It is, therefore, proved, from the law and j ustice of God, that as temporary stewards, you are bound to apply the property of which you are but trustees agreeably to his known will and plea- sure, which have been expressly revealed, and which must be obeyed under the highest penalty, even that of eternal damnation ; namely, to relieve the wants of your distressed fellow-man as well as your own. And this is all conformable to true philosophy, as well as to the will of God, as revealed in the elder volume of the creation, in which, as in a mirror, the Divine Perfections are portrayed in imperishable and immortal characters, and from which, the de- signs of the adorable and omnipotent Artificer may plainly be col- lected. What, then, is the nature of what we call wealth, riches, or property ? They must be resolved into two kinds ; namely, the immediate productions and gifts of God, to wit, the elements, the beautiful and useful lights of heaven, the air we breathe, the earth we tread, the ocean we navigate, and the waters which, simple or compound, form our nurture or beverage. These were bestow- ed in common on all animals, and not exclusively on one species. 70 Next, the animal productions, that fly, or swim, or tread on the earth, with the wonderful variety of vegetables that feed them, and are made subservient to the use, not to the abuse of man. And all these are the gifts of G-od, not to one man only, be he lord or king, or to one set of men, or to one nation or land ; hut are made for and given to all equally. Therefore, by the original birth, law, and compact, no man has any exclusive right to the use of these things, or to any of them, antecedent to the compact of society, and society by its compacts cannot annihilate rights established by superior Divine power. It can only regulate the manner of their application and distribution within certain bounds. Consequently, every individual son or daughter of Adam retains in full force his or her absolute birth-right for a competent share of the necessary and useful productions to supply his wants, cor- poral and spiritual, for food, clothing, lodging, education, and rearing of himself, and his offspring ; support in sickness, spiri- tual consolation and instruction through life and at the hour of death ; all subject to this one condition, that he labour; for this decree includes all men : “ In the sweat of thy face thou shalt earn thy bread and, as St. Paul says, “ He who will not labour, neither should he eat/’ But if distress overtake him, through sickness, misfortune, or even folly, the law of mercy and of charity — which is the law of God, doubly revealed in the written word of God, as well as in the volume of nature and traditions of all nations — comes in to supply the deficiency of human laws, which study to leave virtue the merit of being in some measure voluntary and spontaneous. Why, then, have men associated and formed laws ? Certainly for security, comfort, and convenience, not for misery and des- truction, and to remedy individual weakness by the union of strength and numbers. In a word, to promote the happiness of all, each member of the association, without partiality or distinc- tion of persons, forms, as it were, a public and joint hank stock , into which each individual throws in his contingent in contribution of manual or mental labour. A kind of insurance office is thus formed against the casualities of human life and the cruel ca- prices of fortune. The victims of misfortune or disease have not thereby forfeited 71 their fair claims to the protection of all the members of the asso- ciation, who are naturally bound to stand by each other in sickness and in health ; and the obligation of assistance is only redoubled by the misfortunes of a fellow-member or fellow-citizen of the great family. These banks are accumulations of property which are in the hands of the rich ; and they are, therefore, the natural stewards to supply the wants of the poorer classes of their brethren. Let them reflect, that none of them got rich by his own labour alone. Wealth being the result of a large quantity of human labour, act- ing on the natural productions, or accumulation of capital, the laborious classes have, of course, an inalienable right to a fair divi- dend of the same in sickness and in health, for no man can claim a monopoly of the gifts of God, much less of the labours of man. Therefore, he who giveth to the poor, especially those who have been, or are, desirous to be useful members of society, not only giveth to the Lord, but makes restitution to the poor. If the law of charity and justice had not commanded attention to the wants of the poor, the law of sound policy, prudent atten- tion to sound principles, and even self-interest, would teach the rich and the great the importance of extending their care to the afflicted and the indigent. If you want to know the never-failing fuel that feeds and must ever keep alive the spirit of sedition, the great, although degraded. Lord Chancellor Bacon points it out to you. That mighty genius has said, that “ poverty and discontent are the proper matter of sedition.” Another experienced and eminent statesman, famous for his knowledge of men and things, Sully, in his “ Memoirs,” has the following passage : “ The people never raise an insurrec- tion from a desire of attacking, but from the impatience of suffering.” The same cause accounts for the frequent robberies and murders in countries that are badly governed. In fact, where the multi- tude are publicly robbed by privileged robbers, individuals will be robbed in the dark by private robbers. There may be other circumstances peculiar to a country which enforce charity as an imperious obligation of strict justice. For example, if there be a country where the poor are miserably ha- 72 rassed and ground down by taxes, rack-rents, and numberless ex- actions ; and where, to aggravate the hardship still farther, effec- tual measures are taken to deprive them of the means of paying those terrible exactions, by depriving them of employment, which is accomplished by debarring them of manufactures and com- merce. If there be a country whose wars and taxes are carried on and incurred for the benefit of another people, who have totally im- poverished and enslaved them, with the mass of mankind trans- ferring all their lands and property into the hands of a few un- principled adventurers ; thus selling the people and their soil in the strict sense of the word to Jews and stock-jobbers, insomuch that they may, in all propriety, be called the lords of the land and people. If the great and wealthy have, by their political sins, and by supporting bad measures, brought a mighty load of misery on the great mass of their fellow-citizens, to that degree, that they might well curse the institution of what is called civil society, and envy the happier lot of the hardy and honest red man in his native woods ; destitute of proper food, clothing, lodging ; dwindling and decaying, from generation to generation, in stature and strength ; unable to educate, or even feed their children in a suitable manner. If the unfortunate men who dig and plough, reap and thrash the corn, are not allowed to taste it — a piece of cruelty which Moses forbade to be used towards the dumb ani- mal, and contrary to the command, “ Muzzle not the ox which treadeth out the corn.” If the immense productions of their bountiful Father pass before their faces into the hands of their enemies, to pamper the dissolute, the profligate sons and daugh- ters of iniquity. The rich are peculiarly called upon to relieve the distresses they have helped to create, to remedy abuses, of which they are not guiltless: this is not charity; it is justice. What though the law of the land and man are silent, though you have nothing to apprehend from judge or jury, will you not fear that judicature, where jury and witnesses are superfluous; where the inmost secrets of your hearts, your words, deeds, and thoughts, will appear in formidable array ? Ah ! who would not wish on that day to have performed some worthy deed, that might appear as evidence in his favour ! Let us not dissemble or deceive ourselves, my countrymen and 73 fellow- Christians. The pulpit of the Gospel ministry is not tbe place for the meanness of human policy. The minister of Christ is in duty bound, as he values his salvation, to consider and an- nounce himself as the ambassador of Heaven, commissioned to proclaim and declare consoling and likewise awful truths to his fellow-servants, be they lords, kings, emperors, or beggars, boldly, without respect of persons. And what though he should be persecuted, calumniated, nay, put to torture and death, for the intrepid discharge of his high commission ! This has been the portion of all the Prophets, and of our Saviour, Jesus Christ, who has also warned his disciples, not to fear those who destroy the body, but rather Him who can throw both soul and body into everlasting flames. In obedience to his high commands, I shall declare to you truths, perhaps unpleasant to some of you, but certainly neces- sary for the salvation of you all, that I may not be accessary to your everlasting perdition, by concealing your real situation from you. The oppressed country and people, just now described, are our own beautiful land, and its goodnatured but unhappy people. It is more than probable that many of my hearers this day have, in many ways, largely contributed to their sufferings. What judg- ment would you pass on the men who would oppose, and did oppose, all measures suggested for the relief of these their greatly- injured, suffering, and meritorious fellow- Christians and country- men, and what is infinitely worse, in imitation of the crowned tyrant who was drowned in the Red Sea, answered their humble petition with great insults and threats, and by redoubling their oppres- sion, by dragooning and torturing them into civil war, that they might exterminate or keep them in eternal bondage and fatten on their spoils ? And who, during the license of that barbarous warfare, were guilty of unheard-of cruelties, aud covered them- selves and their country with blood, rapine, and infamy, and to crown all their misdeeds, sold themselves and their country for ever ? Such there may be among my hearers this day. They must feel themselves loudly called to efface, if possible, the remembrance of those crimes by a speedy repentance, by making all the atone- K 74 ment in their power. You have a great debt to cancel. You cannot, then, he too liberal. That charity must not be scanty which has a multitude of unparalleled crimes to cover. Alas ! the injustice of ages cannot be repaired in a moment, and were you to give your all, small would be the amount compared to the damage. We have, therefore, not only our spiritual and eternal interest concerned, but out* temporal interests individually and collec- tively ; for our characters and Our fortunes, I fear, have suffered irreparable damage. — Was it a friend who fomented our divi- sions, and took advantage of them to rob us of what is dearer than life? Let us hasten to make all the reparation in our power, to our- selves, to our injured country, and to our posterity. In recommending the ordinary distresses of your fellow- crea- tures, whether poverty, age, or helpless infancy, to your com- miseration, the minister of religion endeavours to call forth your pity for suffering humanity ; but on the present occasion, I call on you to have mercy on yourselves and on your children ; I call on you to take measures of precaution against an insidious and formidable foe, who lurks in the very midst of you, in the wretch- ed haunts of disease, alleviated neither by the friendly aid of me- dicine, nor the consoling hand of human assistance. There, death, pain, and disease sit enthroned in the silent horror of the empire of death, a silence only interrupted by the groans of an agonizing soul, racked to despair by the tortures of a burning fever. Humanity itself shrinks back, appalled, from the dreadful contagion, leaving the victims piled on each other in one bed. Shall I spare your feelings the description of scenes full of mis- ery unutterable to the tongue of man, which frequently occur in your cities, from which this awful scourge seldom or never departs ? Shall I attempt to paint the situation of a house tenanted by three or four families, all prostrated on the bed of sickness, in filth and wretchedness, stifled by a putrid and rancid atmosphere, re- plenished with the morbid effluvia of the fever, and in the perspi- rations of their own bodies, without a human hand to ventilate the noxious air of the rooms, to cleanse the filthy matter long accu- mulated in them ; or to hand a drink or medicine, — the dead and the dying and the convalescent huddled in one mass ? Shall I at- tempt to describe the sensations of horror excited on seeing the mother dead of the burning fever, and surrounded by her two infants agonizing in the pangs of the same disease, and soon to accompany her ? Your feelings have already pronounced these cases the very climax of human misery, and consequently possess- ing a claim on your charity, paramount to all the objects ever placed before your excited imagination ! Has not the Lord and Giver of life permitted those awful visi- tations partly to exercise your charity, and leave room for cancel- ling and redeeming many defects through the practice of that god- like virtue? This is not all. I said, that in mercy to yourselves you are called upon to make every possible exertion to promote the object of this charity ! In vain do you shun the infected place ; in vain do you bolt your doors and close your windows. The deadly foe, subtle and invisible, like the air that wafts it, creeps in and pervades everywhere, and steals into your bosom along with the vital fluid, which it converts into the fluid of death, either by communication of infected persons, or by some tainted blast of in- fectious effluvia, floating on the wings of the wind. It is obvious how much the virulence and deleterious power of contagion in- creases, by having raged, long neglected, in some humble abode of filth, poverty, and disease. Thus it is, that those terrible plagues are formed in countries languishing under the Turkish yoke, whence pestilence issues like the smoke of the bottomless pit, to appal nations with the horrors of devastating disease and death. The sloth, negligence, and nastiness of the people, increase its virulence, and contribute to its frequency. Under the wise insti- tutions of the Patriarchs and of the Mosaic law, a people trained to industry, and whose very religion inculcated cleanliness and diligent attention to the earliest symptoms of infection, which they were bound to denounce to the magistrate, in order to sequester the diseased from the sound, were not so often nor so fatally visited by that calamity, as latterly their degenerate successors are, under the crushing yoke of the Mussulmans or other barbarians. In addition to this irrefragable proof, our own experience goes to corroborate the utility of an institution whose object is to pro- cure the earliest information of the appearance of disease and con- tagion ; and when they cannot relieve the poor and indigent in the 76 bosom of their families, they report the case to those who may re- move the infected to another place, and thus prevent the extension of the malady. Then comes in the benefit of that Fever Hospital, of whose claims upon public bounty I have elsewhere spoken, where the really afflicted and sick have every accommodation of airy rooms, clean beds and bedding, attention of nurses, and every assistance that medical skill and the consolations of religion can afford. Thus, you shall in this instance achieve two great objects, that do not always meet. Here the duties of the highest benevolence are reconciled to the dictates of the most interested prudence : for, whilst you are here administering relief to the poor and indi- gent roomkeeper, who once, perhaps, was affluent and happy, you also obtain relief for the most deplorable objects in creation, and remove contagion and disease from the abodes of wretchedness and want. If, unfortunately for any of you, this institution be not ade- quately supported ; if the poor mechanic, who is able and willing to work, be not enabled to sustain, by a little timely aid, the means of promoting his honest industry, then he may become sick and saddened to death, and his poor family, from want, be- come the candidates of the hospitals, already insufficient for the reception of the numerous victims of disease. If the contagion should then rage in the bosom of your own families ; if the dearest relatives of your own house, if your own children, are attacked, and, after unspeakable sufferings, expire in your arms, then you may accuse yourselves, when too late, for not supporting with all your might the object of the present charity, this noble institu- tion. What a trifle would not one hundred pounds appear when com- pared with the loss and sufferings of even one disastrous victim of neglect who may perish through your heard-heartedness ! But how far more dreadful if ten or twenty perish through your cupi- dity or neglect ! Come forward, then, husbands, wives, and widows ; come for- ward, fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters, who are yet un- touched by sickness or disease ; come forward, ye who yet have means to sustain your trade or profession, and enable this Society to relieve the poor, the lonely, and the indigent roomkeeper. Re- member the divine saying of the great Apostle St. James : “ This is pure and undefiled religion, to visit the widow and the orphan in their tribulation, and to keep yourselves unspotted from the world." A PANEGYRIC ON SAINT AUGUSTINE. “ In nomine Sanctissimi Trinitatis. Amen.” “ Altitudinem cceli, et latitudinem terrse, et profundum abyssi, quis dimensus est? etc. — Ecclus., i, 2, 3, 9. “ Who hath measured the height of heaven, and the breadth of the earth, and the depth of the abyss ? Who hath searched out the wisdom of God, that goeth before all things ?. . . .There is one [who] saw her, and numbered her, and measured her.” These beautiful expressions of Sacred Writ, in their literal meaning, are unquestionably to be understood as explanatory of the infinite wisdom of the Eternal ; but still, they may, in an humbler point of view, and in the licensed allegory of panegyric, be most admirably applied to the vast and penetrating genius, the unlimited and most comprehensive understanding of that bright luminary of Christianity, that pillar of Catholicity, that star of heaven, that cedar of Lebanon ; I mean, the incomparable Saint Augustine. This great Father, Doctor, Bishop, and Founder of our Order, whose “ memory is in eternal benediction,” we are here assembled to solemnise with our holy Mother the Church, who, proud in 78 the annual remembrance of the most noble and valiant of her champions, displays her joy on her altars in the pomp of pious festivity ! For my part, my dearly beloved brethren, so distracted am I by various and opposite sensations on the present occasion, that I tremble for the issue of this discourse. To have been appointed the public, but feeble panegyrist of a Saint unequalled in learning and talents, and scarcely rivalled in sanctity, — I consider this as the highest honour that could be con- ferred upon me. But, when I view the vast space over which I have to travel, when I survey the bleak forest of thorns and thistles, where young Augustine strayed for years, ingulfed in the vortex of vice ; in short, when I behold the wilderness through which I must force my way, before I arrive at the cultivated gar- den of his virtues, I am already fatigued by the journey, and sink beneath the burden of my feelings, and candidly confess my in- ability to perform the difficult task. But, as on many occasions I have experienced your kind indulgence, I flatter myself that on the present, your piety and patience will supply the want of my ability. It is surprising, indeed, my brethren, that man, who was made to the image and likeness of the Godhead, and blessed with reason above all other creatures here below in order to know his Divine Master, should himself so far deviate from the end of his creation, as to take pleasure in darkness, although endowed with the greatest lights from above ; that he shall permit himself to be guided by his passions, conducted by prejudice, and shut- ting his eyes against the bright sun of truth, shall be led a miser- able captive by the false glimmering of corrupted reason ; that he shall inconsiderately plunge himself into the most fatal errors and most unpardonable follies, and quit the path of Christian pru- dence, to engage himself in the most ridiculous vanities and dan- gerous indiscretions. Strange to say, this appears yet, alas! too fatally true. For my part, were I not convinced by experience, tha^the greatest men are sometimes disfigured by the greatest faults ; that the cor- ruption of the heart too often gains the ascendancy over the lights of the understanding ; were I not certain from revelation that the Almighty can, when he pleases, raise sons for Abraham 79 out of the hardest rocks, draw light from the centre of darkness, and at his will, transform vessels of wrath or ignominy into ves- sels of election, I would be at a loss to comprehend how Augus- tine, the great Doctor of the Catholic Church, whom the Fathers and Councils, by united encomiums, have styled “ the salt of the earth, the source of living waters, the oracle of faith, the support of divine grace, and the pillar of the Church how, I say, this transcendent genius, adorned with all the gifts which the God- head bestows on such as he intends for the admiration of future ages, and destines to be the ornament and triumph of Christian- ity, could possibly have been, at any period of his life, so vile a slave to the follies and vices of a corrupted world. But he him- self, in that never-to-be-sufficiently-admired work, the hook of his “ Confessions,” most humbly and penitently acknowledges his youthful crimes, and by the picture which he has drawn of his sad transgressions, authorizes his panegyrists to give a faithful copy of the same, as a warning and lesson to posterity, to imitate him in his eternal and perfect abandonment of sin and shame. I do not, therefore, stand in need of that artifice which orators in general employ in celebrating the actions of their heroes ; that is, of studiously passing over in respectful silence their juvenile weaknesses, or more mature imbecilities. No ; the puerilities of Augustine shall cast a lighter shade on his future actions, and shall serve to prove, that from the blackest vapours of concu- piscence, the grace of God can draw forth the brightest rays of virtue, and from the darkest night, produce the most glorious day. The iniquities of young Augustine and the misery of his captivity shall heighten the lustre of God’s mercy, and, in a manner, increase the noble attributes of the Divinity. . We shall, therefore, in order to view our African hero in his true light, follow him through all the stages of his life with his pious mother Monica, with her shed tears over his complicated misery, and with her we also shall rejoice in his glorious con- version. We will discover in him a tempestuous youth at Tagaste, a prodigy of prostituted talents at Carthage, in Rome a proud philo- sopher, and at Milan an humble saint, and a truly contrite and perfect penitent. We shall rest here, proud of our new convert. 80 We will reconduct him to the shores of Africa. We shall behold him at Hippo as the child of Heaven, practising every possible virtue and exercising all the wisdom of a Doctor, and as a Reli- gious of penitential austerity, possessing all the sciences of the schools, and diffusing the rays of the Gospel and fulness of de- votion over the dark land of his nativity ; as a Bishop, rigorously fulfilling the awful duties of his office, and zealously supporting the dignity of a mitred functionary of Jesus Christ. From this, he never ceases to weep anew over his early crimes, and shed tears to the memory of his dear, his fond, and his sainted mother, Monica, whose prayers and tears claimed from Heaven the signal blessing of her strayed son’s conversion ! Such are the outlines from which I shall attempt to sketch the rough portrait of our favoured Augustine ; from which it is with truth I may evidently apply the words which the Royal Prophet, wrapt in the contemplation of future ages, before the birth of our hero, pronounced his praises in these beautiful expressions of the 88th Psalm : “ Veritas mea et misericordia mea cum ipso “My truth and my mercy are with him.” Yes; the mercy of God shines most brightly and luminously in the conversion of Augustine, the sinner ; the truth of God is most conspicuous, the truths of religion are most ably and unanswerably defended by the pen of Augustine, the Saint. Grant, 0 Eternal God ! that from the recital of the vices and virtues of the proudest ornament of the Church, we may learn sincerely to detest the former, and devoutly to embrace the latter. That we may succeed in this our fervent prayer, let us, on bended knees, implore her inter- cession who received the plenitude of divine grace when the Angel of the Lord announced to her the mystery of the Incarnation in these memorable words : “ Hail full of grace!' Our illustrious Saint was given to the world as a singular blessing and ornament of human nature, in the city of Tagaste, in Africa, about the middle of the fourth century. If, on the one hand, he was blessed with a most religious mother, his father was unfortunately still a pagan, a man of pleasure, and given to debauchery, and often by his pernicious example counteracted the holy efforts of the pious Monica, to train up her young Augus- tine in the paths of virtue, and show him the way of salvation. *1 On the side of nature, no greater prodigy has ever appeared in the world. The genius of Augustine was so vast, so lively, so penetrating and universally comprehensive, that his best eulogium would be, an exact survey of the immortal fruits of it, and a re- spectful silence and admiration. But we must lament, that as yet, his imagination, unconfined as the ocean, wanders from one error to another ; and this prodigy of wit and learning is tossed at the pleasure of the wild waves of passion. Tagaste, which gave birth to our young hero, contemplated with glad surprise the towering genius of her admirable offspring. Koine, the mis- tress of polite literature, blushed to see barbarous Africa send forth a youth, whose equal she could not reckon upon amidst all her learned sons, and Carthage smiled to behold her proud, imperious rival, her long-hated mistress, at length subdued by her matchless son, the inimitable Augustine ; for all allow him to have been the most sublime and refined wit of the age, the most fluent and eloquent orator, the most acute and penetrating philo- sopher, that the polite world could then, or ever since, boast of. It is not, therefore, surprising to see Augustine, as yet a stranger to the humility of the Gospel, gathering with rapture the flowers which the adulation of the world so profusely strewed before him. Admired by all ranks, the unfledged youth naturally becomes the fond lover of himself, offers incense to the production of his brain, and breaking through the narrow confines of his body, wishes to soar above mortality, and seat himself higher than the stars of the firmament. Guided by the crafty serpent, the un- guarded Augustine climbs the hill of knowledge. In the warmth of imagination, he erects for himself, a throne amongst the su- perior spirits, while, alas! he is only adding to his chains, by plunging deeper into the labyrinth of error ; for, in the earlier part of his life, this great man unhappily rendered himself the slave of his passions, and to the usual propensities of youth he gave an unbounded indulgence, God so permitting, that he might exhibit to the world a most striking example of the wonderful omnipotence of His divine grace, in the conversion of this admi- rable man. Soothed by bad example, he gave so great a loose to his vicious inclinations, that neither the authority of his mother nor the vigilance of his teachers could check him in bis wicked L 82 career ; for, as he himself confesses, the desire of excelling even in vice, made him chiefly aim at practising what was most severely prohibited. Thus, with his years, grew the malice of Augustine, which he laments most bitterly, and which he says was completed by the dissipations of the theatre, and other nightly assemblies, the poison of youth and the destruction of old age, more injurious to the vitals of morality, than adder poison to the human frame. It was amidst those entertainments that our young African, whose heart was composed of flames, as his understanding was of fire, found the accursed matter which kindled his desires, and nourished his already overgrown passions, where, his senses seduced, his reason dazzled, and his imagination bewildered, his heart became dead to everything hut to the fashionable dissipations of a giddy and corrupted world. He tells us himself, that his tears flowed more freely for the loss of a fugitive pleasure or a fleeting delight, than for the loss of his precious soul or his good God. “ The weight of worldly sweets,” says he, “ agreeably pressed me down, and bowed my body and understanding towards the earth. I had no longer the figure of a man, but that of a serpent, and it seemed as if God’s curse on the infernal seducer had been addressed to me : Super pectus gradieris ; ‘ Thou shalt crawl upon thy breast.’ ” O unfortunate youth, giddy Augustine, whither, whither art thou going ? Is it thus thou bidst adieu to thy God, and to the possession of eternal glory ? Ah ! for one moment, cast an eye on thy folly, view the tears of thy disconsolate mother, thy fond, distracted parent, addressing Heaven for thy spiritual resurrection ! Reflect for one instant on thy ingratitude, and be converted to the Lord. But I speak to the winds. In vain do I call on the strayed youth to hear me ; bewildered amidst the sensual pleasures of abandoned Carthage, he listens but to the syren voice of se-^ duction ; lulled to rest on the luxurious lap of the harlot of Babylon, he dreams but of dissipation, and awakes only to in- crease the shackles of his concupiscence. Dear, afflicted Monica, how excruciating are thy torments ! Yet a little while, and thy mourning shall be changed into transports of joy. Augustine, when in his twentieth year, in order to ease his mother of the burden of his education, left the university of Car- thage, and returned to his native city of Tagaste, where he set up a school of rhetoric, which was eagerly frequented by all ranks, as the fame of his extraordinary talents had spread wide over the con- tinent of Africa. During his residence, however, at the capital of Africa, he had imbibed the errors of the Manicheans, a sect of unbe- lievers, who had planned a system of religion, founded on what was most profane in paganism, carnal in Judaism, abominable in magic, and sacrilegious in heresy. The transmigration of Pythagoras, the sensuality of Epicurus, the eternity of two supreme principles, the one author of good, the other of evil; the humanity of Jesus Christ treated as a fable, the resurrection of the body openly denied, the divine writings proscribed, the passage of souls through the stars and elements to be thus purified for happiness ; all these establish- ed as certain dogmas ; in short, picture to yourself all that is shock- ing, profane, and wicked, and it is the heresy of Manes. Yet, O incomprehensible blindness ! the enlightened Augustine becomes a chieftain amongst those wretches by the lustre of his eloquence, adds respectability to their dreams and impostures, and by the splendour of his talents, extends the conquest of their diabolical errors. It is for this reason, that on his return to his native city, his pious mother, Monica, who was always a steadfast Catholic, avoided his company most studiously, and refused to eat at the same table, fondly hoping, by this charitable severity and abhor- rence of his errors, to make him enter into himself. Finding, however, that her endeavours to reclaim him were unsuccessful, she repaired to a neighbouring learned Bishop, and with tears be- sought him to discourse with her son upon his errors. The holy man, however, declined the task for the present, alleging that he was as yet too much intoxicated with the novelty of the Mani- chean system, to listen to sober reasoning or sound argument ; but she, still continuing in suppliant terms to importune him, he dismissed her with these gentle expressions : “ Go ; God bless you. It is impossible, it cannot be, that the child of such tears should perish." These words the pious Monica received as an oracle from Heaven. Augustine had, in Tagaste, a dear friend, who had been for many years the companion of his studies, and to whom he had been accustomed to unbosom himself without reserve. This asso- ciate was in the bloom of life, and through his persuasion was 84 involved in the Manichean errors. Falling sick, this amia- ble youth was converted to the Catholic Church, baptized, and soon after died, with great sentiments of piety and religion. This was a deadly blow to the happiness of Augustine : his heart was overwhelmed with grief ; even his country and his own home seemed full of horror to him ; in short, the image of death ap- peared to him in every direction, so that, no longer able to behold the fond retreats where himself and his dear departed friend had passed away their fleeting hours, he determines once more to re- turn to Carthage, there to wear away his grief by time and new connexions. In the halls of the university no name was so re- spected as that of Augustine. He was the terror of the aspiring and ambitious youth of Africa, and easily carried away the princi- pal prizes in poetry and oratory. For nine years did this tower- ing genius follow the doctrines of Manicheism, corrupted himself, and the too-able defender of the corrupted system he had em- braced. On his return, however, to the capital the second time, he had a long conference with Faustus, who was esteemed the most intelligent and eloquent professor of this sect. By the proposi- tion of some difficulties which the all-penetrating genius of Au- gustine had suggested to him, he saw at once the weak and rotten bases upon which the heretical edifice was raised, and immediately resolved to abandon a cause so unworthy of his defence and sup- port. Whilst he remained in this fluctuation of mind, not know- ing to what body he should attach himself now, being disgusted by the profligate manners of the scholars at Carthage, he resolved to take a journey to Home, where students were kept under a more rigorous discipline. This he effected without disclosing his mind to his disconsolate mother, whose surprise and affliction at his sudden and precipitate departure may be more easily con- ceived than expressed. After spending some time at the then flourishing university of the capital of the world, where he captivated the applause of all by the transcendent superiority of his talents, he fell danger- ously sick of a violent fever, and seemed reduced by it to the very point of dying and perishing for ever. “For, whither had I gone,” says he, “if I then died, but into those flames and tor- ments which my crimes deserved ?” But it pleased God to relieve him from this dangerous illness through the prayers of the affec- tionate Monica, to whose sighs and tears the Church of God is indebted for the acquisition of so precious and invaluable a trea- sure as an Augustine converted, and the great and invincible de- fender of her sacred truths. The following year he was sent to the city of Milan, in Italy, by Symmachus, the prefect of Eome, (who warmly admired his wonderful talents), in order that where Va- lentinian the younger had established the seat of empire, there, the greatest genius of the world should shine forth, and emit the brightest rays of knowledge on every side, even to the remotest comers of the earth. Here his dear mother, borne on the wings of maternal affection, and burning with the most ardent zeal for his conversion, again embraced him ; and this was the stage de- signed by Providence to crown at length all the labours of this admirable woman, and turn all her tears of sadness into those of inexpressible joy and consolation. After our hero had shaken off the yoke of the Manichean heresy, he had nothing to struggle with but the suggestions of his passions, with which he had a long and most painful conflict. This he describes himself in the most natural and lively colours : “ Amidst the cruel agitations of my mind,” says he, “ my former pleasures recurred to my remembrance, and called out to me, ‘ What, Augustine, will you leave us, and from this moment shall such and such pleasures be forbidden you for ever ? Can you harbour the notion that you can possibly live with satisfaction without us ?’” Such were the words of the tempter, and the poor fluctuating Augustine, in the agonies of his mind, appears like the majestic ship when equally assailed by two opposite and powerful winds ; one wafts her furiously towards the shore, the other dashes her with violence into the deep, and in all appearance, dooms her to fall a victim to the unpitying elements, till at length the winds are hushed, the calm succeeds, the joyful pilot steers the half-wrecked helm, and is wafted by a favouring breeze to the long-wished-for harbour of security. A natural image is this, my brethren, of our great Augustine, struggling between the impulse of passion and the inspirations of divine grace : at one time he desires to be converted, at another his will opposes it ; now he weeps over his crimes, in an instant he relapses into his 86 folly ; at one time, in his troubled mind, he seizes on the cross of Jesus, at another he despises its humiliations, and trembles in every limb at the thought. In short, sad, confused, agitated, and affrighted, he suddenly rushes forth, frantic-like, from the apart- ment where he was with his friend Alipius, who followed him in silent astonishment into an adjoining garden, where Austin, in all the wild attitudes of despair, flings himself under a fig-tree, burn- ing with indignation against his cowardly weakness, and the chains of sinful slavery which now insupportably galled him. His ges- tures (for his heart was too full for utterance) sufficiently indi- cated a mind agonising amidst the most cruel and inexpressible tortures. Tears at length came to his relief, which he poured forth in torrents, crying aloud from time to time, “ When, 0 Lord ! when will your anger have an end ? Why to-morrow ? why not now — this very moment — put an end to my torments, and be converted to thee ? The moment of this signal conversion, so fortunate for the whole Church of God, was now at hand. He hears a voice, as from a neighbouring house, which frequently repeats these two Latin words : “ Tolle, lege ;” that is, “ Take up and read.” His countenance changed on hearing the voice, and he understood that the Almighty commanded him to open the book which he had left near his friend Alipius, and to read the first article he should find. The book was the writings of St. Paul: he eagerly opened it, and read to himself these words: “ Let us walk honestly, as in the day ; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not in contention and envy ; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh in its concupiscences.” — Horn., xiii, 13, 14. Augustine read no more : in that instant all his disquietudes disappeared, not leaving a single trace of anguish behind. A placid tranquillity now spread itself over all his features, and returning to the house, he related the affair to his mother, whose unspeakable joy on this happy occasion could be equalled only by the sincere repentance of her converted son. “ She could never cease,” says Augustine, “ blessing and praising thee, 0 my God ! who knowest how to bring about so much more than we are able to comprehend. Eternal praises to thy mercy,” adds this great penitent, “ since thou not only gave me one of thy most faithful servants for a 87 mother, but hast also placed myself in the number of those who desire not to live but to serve thee. May my heart and my tongue never cease praising thee, and may all the powers of my soul cry out, * O Lord, what is there that is like unto thee ?’ ” Our Saint was baptized by the great St. Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, on Easter eve, in the year 387, and on that joyful occa- sion, the hymn of Te Deum was composed by Ambrose and Augustine, which has ever since been sung in the temples of God on all public rejoicings. Shortly after his baptism, our convert desiring to devote himself entirely to a life of solitude, resolved to return to Africa. Accordingly, he set out on his journey, with his mother and several other friends, who wished to accompany him on his pilgrimage ; but arriving at Ostia, a sea- port about fourteen miles from Home, he lost his dear mother, whose mortal remains are venerated by pious thousands, in a sumptuous edifice of that town, dedicated to the glory of God, under the name of the sainted Monica. Soon after our Saint’s arrival in Africa, Valerius, Bishop of Hippo, raised him, against his inclinations, to the dignity of the priesthood, at the eager desire of the people, and lest that diocese should be deprived of so invaluable an orna- ment, he secretly procured Augustine to be appointed Coadjutor to himself in the episcopal office, after whose decease he governed that see for nearly forty years, thus rendered so famous through all succeeding ages in the annals of the Church, for so signal, so celebrated, so glorious a pastor, as the great, the incomparable Augustine. And now, where shall I find words to relate faithiully the im- mense labours and apostolic fatigues of this great man ? How can I call to mind the prodigious number of unbelievers he con- founded, the innumerable volumes he was the author of, and the sinners he converted ? How illustrious are his victories, how sublime his writings, how pathetic his exhortations ! What fire of conviction in his disputes, what persuasive force in his words, and what ardent zeal in all his undertakings for the glory of God and the honour of religion ! One would really imagine, from a survey of his works, that Augustine alone had been appointed by Heaven to bring back all those whom schism or impiety had .tom from the bosom of the Church ; for if hell, from its most gloomy 88 retreats, spawned an Arius, a Pelagius, a Manes, a Donatus, a Nestorius, or a Eutyches, our matchless champion alone shall suffice to prostrate them all, and chain down the many* headed monster of error. So that if I could for a moment forget the li- mits of that respect in which I hold the other venerable Fathers of the Church, I am so struck with the superiority of the doctrine of Augustine, that I would not hesitate to say, that the Jeromes, the Gregorys, the Cyprians, and the Basils, may be silent, and cease to combat, when the anointed Bishop of Hippo, the darling of Africa, plants his invincible standard, and puts to flight, with his immortal pen, the combined enemies of Jesus Christ. But, my brethren, whither should I wander, how long should I trespass on your patience were I to attempt the full portrait of Augustine ? The infinite abundance of matter which offers itself to form his panegyric, makes the choice extremely difficult. It is impossible to say all ; yet I know not what should be omitted. Suffice it, then, to say, that in Augustine raised to the episcopal throne, we behold the reign of unbounded charity, unparalleled sanctity, and most austere repentance. It was now that his love of Jesus Christ appeared in its brightest colours, as also for the Church and the poor ; it was now he manifested his prudence in correc- tion, his discretion in remonstrance, his affability in discourse, his patience under contradiction, the poverty of his revenues, the frugality of his table, and in short, his regularity in every action. But I shall pass by his numberless train of merits, in order to show you Augustine full of years, loaded with glory and adorned with every virtue, stretched on the bed of death, and expiring in the bosom of sanctity and penance. Behold the terror of con- quered hell, the triumph of victorious Heaven, now struggling with death! Behold the brave defender of the Faith, the sono- rous trumpet of the Church of God, the wonder of the Angels, the miracle of humanity, silent as the grave, only when he sighs forth the most affectionate of the royal penitent’s Psalms : “ Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy great mercy ; and ac- cording to the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out my iniquities ,” — Psalm 1, 1 ; and with these fond expressions, the dying Saint renders up his soul to his Lord and his God. I leave you now to yourselves, beloved brethren, to mourn 89 over the lifeless remains of the great champion of Christianity. I leave it to the Church at large to weep over his ashes and lament his absence, as by his death she is exposed to all the rage of hell, unprotected and friendless. But no ; Austin, though dead, lives in his writings, and in them by anticipation furnishes the Church of God with invincible weapons against every error that can pos- sibly appear till time shall be no more. And now, my brethren, what spiritual instruction will you draw from the life and death of this venerable Doctor ? In the constellation of his virtues, his humility was unquestionably the brightest star ; in this we can all imitate him. Notwithstanding all the services he rendered to the Church by so many volumes consecrated to the defence of reli- gion; notwithstanding the many trophies he gained for divine grace, and his continual fastings and watching, yet he trembles for his salvation, and is seized with religious horror at the dread moment he is to enter on eternity. Why thus dread or fear ? He saw Magdalen justified in an instant, Saul immediately struck prostrate on the earth. One conference is enough for the Samaritan, one sign for the usurious Levi, and one promise for the good thief on the cross. But before grace triumphed over his own hardened heart, what trials, what conflicts, what combats, must he not have undergone ! Oh, my brethren, think on this, and tremble ! So that Augustine has not only left us documents to follow, but the most perfect virtues to imitate. Let us, then, while we admire his erudition, strive to form ourselves by his conversion, remembering, that on the awful day of trial, the Almighty will demand a more strict account of the good works we have performed, than of the sciences we have acquired. In short, my beloved brethren, let us, like Augustine, listen to the voice of God, and be converted from our evil ways. Let us, like him, repent, that with him we may receive the crown of immortal glory, which I wish you all from my heart, in the name of the Blessed and Undivided Trinity. Amen. M 90 A SERMON ON BEHALF OF FEMALE ORPHANS. “ And Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed to those who were seated.” — St. John, vi, 11. Borne on the unwearied pinions of the ever-wandering and un- settled fancy, following, however, the unerring light of divine revelation, I wing my way over the waters of Gallilee, and ar- rive at the sacred mountain, where the ever-beneficent and divine Jesus is surrounded by a famishing multitude. This pious crowd, desirous of following Him who had wrought so many wonders, forgot, in the zeal of devotion, that they were abandoning them- selves to hunger and want, by retiring from their native home ; till now, fatigued by the journey, they seem to look back with regret, and call on their loving wives and infant babes, for a scanty morsel to support agonising nature. Fear not, ye fol- lowers of Christ, fear not ; He who with a plentiful hand deals out their food to the feathered inhabitants of the air and to the finny race of the waters, will not see his most noble creature, man, expire in want, and die at the foot of a mountain adorned by his own presence. No; you shall see your Lord, who when, as man, pinched by hunger and thirst, refused to perform a mi- racle for his own subsistence ; you now, I say, shall behold him battling against the established laws of uature, inverting her usual course, and suspending, as it were, the decrees of Heaven. And why ? For no other reason than to relieve the wants of his famishing brethren. Why doubt you, Philip, of the possibility of relieving the crowd ? or why complain of the scarcity of 01 money to purchase food ? Know you not, that Jesus Christ is the source of charity and fountain of all love, and that a single fiat accomplishes his desires ? Behold him now exerting the arms of Omnipotence, and feeding with five loaves and two fishes, nearly five thousand hungry objects ! Divine bounty ! wonderful pro- vidence ! admirable effect of the charity of Jesus ! Christian brethren, in the conduct of our Redeemer we clearly view the portrait of what our own should be. If we are not en- dowed with the gift of miracles to relieve our distressed brethren, we are at least furnished with an abundance of earthly goods to support them in indigence, and thus are we constituted the de- positories of divine Providence. “ Providence! what Providence ?” says the wicked incredulous man, “ and who is the guardian of the poor ? If a supreme provident Being balances the machine of corporeal creation, why such an unequal distribution of the goods of fortune? Why such an unjust partiality and exception of persons ? Why languishes the child of virtue in the naked garret of poverty or the damp cellar of distress, while the glutted offspring of vice revels under the gilded roof of his proud palace, rocks himself in the cradle of voluptuousness and ease, and sports in the pride of independent extravagance ? Is this Providence ? or must confusion, injustice, and unnatural inequality, be honour- ed by that name ? Surely those are not the dispositions of Provi- dence, or I am a stranger to the word.” Such is the language of incredulity. But let us attend to the great St. Augustine, and learn from him a just and adequate idea of a supreme and provi- dent Ruler. “ We ought not,” says this holy Doctor, “ in the idea of a provident God, exclude from his works every species of evil, as in this case, we should erect a barrier against many good con- sequences.” “ And this was the idea,” says the African Doctor, “ which the infidels themselves harboured concerning the supreme Ruler of the universe, to wit, that he could draw forth good even * from evil itself. Guided by this principle, I will now admit that there are many, both natural and moral, evils.” Thus, in the order of nature, the air is frequently unhealthy, noxious, and spreading contagion from north and south. The sea we constantly behold ragifig and tempestuous, threatening the 92 mariner with instant death. In the vegetable creation, how many wild and sterile plants, how many useless, nay, noxious herbs, are to he found, not only in the uncultivated forest, but even in the chosen and cultivated garden ! In the animal creation, poisonous serpents, deformed monsters, and troublesome insects, surround us on every side ; and even amongst men, what cala- mity and misery do we not see ! To how many obstinate and incurable diseases is not man subject ! How often do we behold him snatched from existence, from his family and his friends, by a sudden and unprovided death ! These are what we call defects in the system of nature ; and are we to cry out against the providence of God for permitting such evils ? Before I answer this question, I request you will accompany me, in imagination, into some magnificent palace, where nature and art vie with zealous rivalship and contend for superiority. Here, the natural beauty of its situation, on an ele- vated ground, surrounded by the verdant charms of lofty groves and fertile valleys, attract the attention of the gazing passenger. Within, the magnificence of its halls, the splendour of its orna- ments, and the elegance of its structure, astonish the curious beholder, and fill his soul with amazement. Above all, my atten- tion is carried away by the lively representations that decorate the walls, in marble and on canvass. Here the sculptor repre- sents the Divinity in awful animated stone; there the painter vies with him in a horrid, but striking picture of the prince of darkness. In one niche our mother Eve laments her fault, and in the sweetness of her countenance, seems to disarm the justice of an angry God ; in another, the harlot of Babylon drinks the cup of abominations, and stripped of shame, boldly offers herself to prostitution. Here the innocent children play with the harm- less lamb, and laugh at their infant exploits ; there the hungry lion roars through the woods, and feasts on the entrails of some brawny ox. On one side, the ship sails majestic on the canvassed ocean; on the other, she is dashing on the rocks, and buries her horror-stricken crew in the watery tomb of the sea. Such a strange contrast fills one with surprise, and still, I must own that it increases the beauty of the place, as the diffe- rent passions are more strongly represented by the opposition of figures. On inquiry, we find all to be the production of one artist ; and here our admiration increases, and wonderful is the man, we cry out, who with the same pencil, the same chisel, has been able to represent such a variety of objects with equal beauty, though in different styles ! Eternal God ! why suspend so long the arm of thy justice in favour of proud, unthinking man ? What ! shall we proclaim a created artist the wonder of the world, the glory of the age, because he adorns a sovereign’s palace with imaginary natural imperfections as well as perfections, and still deny the providence of God, and arraign his uncreated wisdom at the bar of human arrogance, because he variegates the scene of nature with good and evil ? O folly of man ! to accuse that Wisdom, that is equally resplen- dent in the obscurity of the night, as in the glare of day ; equally to be admired in the troubled elements, as in the harmony of the spheres ; in the savage monster of the woods, as in the smallest insect of the earth. “ Nay," says Seneca, “ I know not which to admire most, either the robust figure of the unwieldy elephant or the crawling worm, the hairy- coated bear or the giddy fly. I am equally at a loss," says he, “ when I contemplate the panther and the locust, the ant and the camel, the horrid teeth of a wild boar or the gnawing jaws of the almost invisible moth.” Silence, then, proud wisdom of the world, since all is good, for the supreme Lord of the universe draws forth good from evil. Yes, most assuredly he does. What caused, in the order of* nature, the invention of arts and sciences amongst men, the dis- tinction of states and employments, the variety of so many na- tions, and the foundation of so many monarchies and republics ? Was it not the sin of our first parents ? and that was evil. Under the order of grace, the earth would not have been adorned with innumerable Patriarchs, Prophets, and Apostles, thousands of Martyrs, Virgins, and penitents, but for the same evil. Nor, in the order of glory, would there have been a Man-God presiding in the celestial hierarchy. The evils, therefore, my brethren, which we view, both in the natural and moral world, far from casting a shade of darkness on the providence of God, on the con- trary, add only additional lustre to the bright star of Omnipotence. 94 Let not the wicked man, therefore, cry out, “ Who governs the habitable globe, and who is the father of the poor ?” Since wealth and poverty, under the direction of Providence, can equally con- duct us to the happy end of our creation, neither the one nor the other can secure to us salvation, nor exclude us from it. It is only the use which we make of them that can affect our eternal interests with God. Let not the rich man, while adorned with the gaudy trappings of vanity, forget that his wealth is the gift of Providence, and his superfluity the patrimony of the indigent. Let not the poor man view with a jealous eye the prosperity of the children of fortune, but rather remember, that in the scale of Providence, he will have his share. Let him remember, that Jesus Christ fed with his own hands the hungry crowd that obeyed his laws, and changed the barren soil of a mountain into a rich pasture of plenty and peace. Both the rich and poor are equally members of society, and can equally, in their respective spheres, contribute to its prosperity and happiness. But if they deviate from their distinct obligations, then it is that society becomes anarchy, and confusion and misery raise their horrible aspects on the ruins of fraternal charity. The rich man is the child of God, and bom for everlasting glory ; so also is the poor man. The one will attain it by a gene- rous participation of his wealth ; the other, by an humble obe- dience to the decrees of Providence, and a full confidence in the mercy of his God. It shall be my duty now to show that charity is the bright virtue which makes you, not only good Christians, but also useful citizens ; charity on the part of the rich man, by sharing his abundance with his indigent brother; charity on the part of the poor man, by a grateful acknowledgment for such generosity. Thus, the rich depend on the poor, and, reciprocally, the poor on the rich ; and thus the great chain of society is formed and linked by mutual harmony and love. For the first time, my brethren, I am now an advocate for the poor. These forlorn children, these harmless young one’s, look up to me, look up to you, with confidence, and their infant souls exult in the joy of expectation and hope. Yes, my children, I will do my endeavour for your sake. This sacred dome shall echo with my voice in defence of your cause ; the whole hierarchy of heaven shall witness my zeal, and happy will I repute myself if my exertions contribute to add even one mite towards the support of suffering innocence. Wipe away, therefore, my children, the tear of sorrow that trickles down your infant cheeks. If your fathers are no more and your mothers in the grave, or, perhaps, at this moment ex- piring for a morsel of bread, fear not ; here you behold a gene- rous public assembled for your relief. They are not the flint- hearted children of Egypt, nor the sable misers of Abyssinia. No, they are the sons of Ireland, the generous inhabitants of a metropolis whose charity has been sounded from pole to pole by the sonorous trumpet of praise and admiration. Bend your knees, therefore, my little ones, before the throne of Heaven, and with uplifted hearts and clasped hands, beseech the most Holy and Undivided Trinity to bless the cause of innocence in distress. That it may be so, let us devoutly repeat the “ Hail Mary” &c. While I undertake to show you, my brethren, that the Gospel of Charity forms good and useful citizens, perhaps I may be blamed by some short-sighted hearers for confining my attention to what they may consider as a political subject, and altogether unbecoming this solemn place of religious worship, and by no means suitable to the sacred character of my ministry. Let such think as they please. I by no means intend to dispute as a poli- tician. No ; I will instruct as a Christian teacher, and when I mention a good citizen, I only mean a worthy member of society. As far, therefore, as the divine virtue of charity should influence the political conduct of a Christian, so far I shall speak as a politician, and no farther. This I will do in order to vindicate Religion from the calumnies of her enemies, and strip her of the sable garments with which she is generally disfigured by the malicious hand of incredulity or error. The all- wise children of the world are fond of distinguishing the interests of society from the interests of religion, boldly as-' serting that a rigorous adherence to the laws of the Gospel is absolutely incompatible with the maxims of sound policy. “ En- trust,” say they, “the management of the wheels of government to the hands of religion, and then it is that you destroy society, because its injunctions are calculated to extinguish the sacred fire of social virtue ; they damp the courage of the warrior, they fetter the bursting efforts of genius, and enslave its fanatical votaries with the chains of superstition, and by raising the heart of man towards the abodes of immortality, render him totally indifferent to the interest of his family or the advancement of society, while he but walks the earth, lost in the dream of heaven.” This picture of religion is drawn, my brethren, with the darkest colouring of ignorance and malice. We should rather behold her as the glorious daughter of Heaven, descending from on high, leaning on the arms of faith, darting rays of illumination on all sides, dispersing the majestic clouds of mystery which withhold from our sight the sanctuary of the Eternal God, exhibiting to man all the native charms of virtue, and by pointing out the bright abodes of immortal bliss, cheering him up when surrounded by earthly calamities, and most powerfully attracting him to the faithful discharge of every duty towards his God and his fellow- creatures, by the animating prospect of future happiness. Such is the genuine and unblemished portrait of religion ; and in the constellation of its virtues, charity is the brightest star. Charity is the fundamental principle of Christian morality, as also, the deep foundation of every political union among men, whether we consider its root or branch. The love of our Creator above all things is the great root of charity, and to love our neighbour as ourselves, is its spreading branch, casting its shade equally on the sinner as on the just man, on the savage African and polished European ; on the dark child of idolatry, on the unbaptized pagan and the enlightened Christian. Both together, according to our Divine Saviour, form the first and greatest com- mandment, which links nations, creeds, and the various govern- ments of the world in the bonds of harmony and union. Warmed into love by its generous flame, the hardened miser half welcomes his kind-hearted brother, and man forgets his enemy in the pa- tron of fraternal charity. Thus the lion sleeps with the kid, and the mighty inhabitant of the woods, the devouring bear, plays with the harmless lamb. These are the happy consequences of religious charity, without which it is clearly evident no society can exist ; for, take away submission to the civil laws, be they enacted by what power you please, and obedience to the dictates of conscience, and then you will apply the axe to the very root of order and tranquillity. And would not this be the case without charity ? It certainly would, were it not for our belief of a Su- preme Being, and the happy immortality which is promised us as the reward of virtue. Would not a brother bleed by the hands of a brother ? Would not the well-earned property of the honest citizen become the right of an illustrious robber, and the fond wife be led captive to the incestuous bed of adultery ? In short, without charity, the civil magistrate or the laws of the land could never possess any real authority ; because, authority, pro- perly speaking, is not only a power of compelling obedience by force and violence, but of also inducing an obligation of obe- dience without the agency of coercive measures. An obligation which binds us as strongly in private as in public, equally in- fluences the heart of man, buried in the obscurity of the night, as under the bright glare of day. In fine, the subject must act un- der the influence of conscientious motives to he truly obedient. And thus, even polytheism, which is the belief of many gods, is allowed to be not so bad as atheism, which excludes even the true God, for the political existence of a republic ; as in the lat- ter, force alone could determine right or wrong, and the sovereign could only ensure the stability of his throne by wielding the sword of power, and the wise dictator would be buried under the ruins of his well- organised laws. Fatal consequences, which would shortly render this habi- table globe a shocking scene of anarchy and confusion, if not of rapine and universal slaughter ! Fatal consequences, so happily removed from us by the divine virtue of charity, the only support of weak humanity and the only pillar of order and society. I may, therefore, with justice, boldly assert, that charity not only makes pious Christians, but also useful citizens. But alas ! now that in many cases the voice of religion is choked up in the den of contention and avarice, and the children of the Gos- pel, in the eager avidity with which they pursue the goods of fortune, have almost forgotten that sacred and awful name of religion ; when the inferior orders of society are laid miserably prostrate in N 98 the universal carnage of brutality and desolation, while the su- perior circles exhibit an unvaried system of depravity and extra- vagance, and the middle ranks, in all the emulation of jealous rivalry, are contending for the prize ; in short, when so many pro- fessors of Christianity have buried every consideration, both tem- poral and eternal, in the grave of greedy avarice, little can it be expected that charity will advance, though she may raise her voice, and thunder forth in favour of the oppressed. While we behold the rich abandon both soul and body to the common sewer of corruption ; while the poor, unrestrained by the discipline of civilization, untutored in the principles of religion, reared in ig- norance of themselves and of their Creator, think only of com- mitting depredations on all other ranks of society, and cease from mischief only when lulled by intoxication ; little, I repeat, can it be expected that the voice of charity will cheer the hungry or- phan, and exchange the tattered weeds of distress for better food and raiment. But, remember, ye rich, dreadful will be your reckoning at the last day, if your mind becomes insensible of every tender emotion, and blunted at once to the voice of remorse and pity, which I consider as the lowest species of human degradation. Remember, in the discharge alone of this important duty, true felicity is to be enjoyed. Every other phantom of contentment still perches at a greater distance, attracting the fond pursuer under a more al- luring form, but alas ! he is only pleasingly decoyed into a more cruel and pungent disappointment. All men by nature are on an equal footing, endowed with an immortal soul, clad with corruptible flesh, subject to the same infirmities, liable to the same wants. Of all created existence, man, in his primeval state, appears to be the most miserable and forlorn. Deprived of every sort of nutriment on the part of him- self, he seems the spurious outcast of the creation. The ant, the fly, the cat, and the dog, come into life with covering and powers to help themselves ; but man comes naked, poor, fee- ble, and helpless, and by his infant cries, proclaims his early misery. The son of the beggar is, at this period, equal to the child of his sovereign; but Divine Providenoe has permitted that the one should live in luxury and extravagance, whilst the other falls a victim to poverty, want, and disease. Here, the innocent little one, with bare head and naked feet, shivers and pines away under the pinching frosts of winter. There, the young heir, clad with the gaudy trappings of pride, is warmed by a perpetual sun- shine. Here, poor Lazarus, full of sores and covered with pu- trefaction, raises his feeble voice, and calls on the rich glutton for the crumbs of his table ; but he calls in vain. No ; he calls not in vain, for while the hardened Christian, the baptized brute, in all the frost of the most congealed apathy, calmly gapes on the pangs of his suffering brother, the more civilized dog comes to fawn and sympathize with poverty, licks the loathsome wounds, and ministers comfort to agonizing humanity. The false distinctions created by property ought to be removed by charity ; and it is in the exercise of this virtue that the views of Providence are fulfilled, in conferring plenty on one, and per- mitting great wants to the other. The patrimony of the poor, O sons of fortune ! their property is in your hands ; God will demand it from you ! Nature calls aloud, and claims a share for her starving children. Give it, in the name of Heaven, and offer a sacrifice, a holocaust to the Lord of Hosts. Convinced that the Almighty Creator is the sole Arbiter of the abundance you possess, and that poverty and riches are balanced in his left and right hand, consider the poor as the substitutes of God, to whom you are bound to pay homage and the tribute of the fatlings of your flock; a homage and tribute the more acceptable to the Almighty, the more it is the offspring of a gene- rous heart, and free from the stigma of force and coercion. The apostle St. Paul declares that prosperity and adversity have been established by God, in order that the rich might be the ipin- isters of his providence by sharing with the poor, and that the latter might feel with a generous sensibility, that he has a Father in heaven, who watches over his infirmity by the ministry of the rich ; and thus, a mutual depend ance, a wise proportion, an equi- table equality, is preserved between the rich and the poor man. He that has much, has but enough, because he bestows a part. He that has little, wants for nothing, because he receives a share. Poverty and riches are closely united by the mutual links of the dependance of the one, and the charity of the other. Behold, 100 my brethren, the intention of God, in the unequal distribution of condition and fortune ! Behold the admirable secret of Divine Providence, by which we clearly view the wisdom and equity of the Eternal Euler of the universe ! Ye rich of the world, see ye not now, that you are the fathers of the poor ? Whatever is superfluous, you are bound to pay into the bank of poverty, and I call superfluous, whatever is not ne- cessary,. according to the rules of Christian moderation, to sup- port with propriety the dignity of your rank, your retinue and equipage. The remainder is not yours, and by alienating it from the poor, you become robbers, nay, murderers, when death, as it frequently appears, ensues in consequence of your refusal. Criminal, capricious, or imaginary necessities will not plead for you at the bar of the eternal justice, where the awful Judge of the living and the dead will upbraid you, in the words of St. Ambrose, “ Inhuman and unchristian men, how came you to abuse the riches I bestowed upon you ? You could line the walls of your houses with purple hangings and rich tapestry ; you could even adorn your horses, your beasts of burden, with magnificent trappings ; but you would not take notice of the rags of distress, with which your Christian brethren were scarcely half covered. Begone, ye wretches, begone from me, because you had bowels, not of charity, but of brass. Steeled to the feelings of the ten- der heart, you have shown no mercy ; therefore, mercy will not be shown unto you. Depart from my sight, and lie buried with the flock of perdition.*’ Sensible of your good and charitable intentions, my brethren, in assembling here this evening, with confidence I address you on behalf of these female orphans, these harmless little ones, already generously transplanted from the cold bed of poverty, from the wintry blasts of vice and infamy, to the vernal sunshine of purity and virtue. Your liberality has enkindled in their breasts the holy sparks of religion ; may the Almighty inflame your hearts to complete the work which has been so charitably begun. Would to God I could excite that true charity, that living flame, which would burn to the root all our sufferings and miseries ! Much, I acknowledge, has been done. It were ingratitude to chal- lenge the charity, the liberality of our citizens. But, notwith- 101 standing so many and repeated solicitations from the pulpit, which have worn to the bone this melancholy subject, are not the very doors of our sanctuary blocked up with supplicants, whose feverish countenance and skeleton frames seem rather to beg the grave to open and cover them for ever, than to ask a half- penny to support their tottering existence ? Are there not my- riads of human victims cast upon the world, friendless and un- protected, compelled to seek relief and refuge from famine in the arms of infamy, whom that money which is nightly squandered in the ale-house and at the tavern, would render the most valuable members of society, and the brightest ornaments of the state ? Reflect, ye gluttons, that while ye raise to your lips those vessels charged with luscious liquids, you are then on the eve of swallow- ing the guilt, the deep -dyed guilt of murder. Yes, the murder of some honest peasant, who, buried in the sordid hut of cheer- less poverty, there, with his infant train, drinks the cup of grief, and eats the bitter bread of misery, till at length, racked with honest passions, he droops in deep distress, while his fond little daughter and helpless little ones scream aloud around the death- bed of their parent, horror-stricken at the sight of his parting anguish. Reflect on this, I say, ye pampered gluttons, and on the other numberless ills that render the life of your poor brethren one incessant struggle, one continued scene of suffering and toil. The melancholy thought will swell your tender bosom with a so- cial sigh ; the tear of compassion will glisten on your eye-ball ; vice, in his high career, will stand appalled ; the warm heart of charity will dilate the wide wish of benevolence ; and the wretched drunkard learns to think of becoming sober, in order to relieve his brother man. Touched with human wo, enter ye all with me into the gloomy horrors of the unroofed garret, where these little children have all been born. There behold where misery mourns unheard, sick- ness pines unpitied, thirst and hunger burn the remaining vitals of animated shadows, and the dying lie stretched on the dead, and feed on their putrified bodies. Oh ! a thought of this, fond man, a thought of this, and can you refuse your alms ? No, no ; the heart of man is formed by nature of nobler clay ; it is the seat of pity, where every kind emotion dwells in peace, yet learns to feel for another’s misfortunes. 1 02 It is on behalf of woman I now address you ; woman, the most noble or debased of God’s creatures, the most valuable blessing of society while innocent, and the severest scourge of the wrath of Heaven when corrupted and debased. Behold her in the garden of Eden ; the animated rib of Adam, the child of peaceful sleep, blooms with perpetual charms ! The blazing star of divine Om- nipotence, woman darts on all sides the rays of glory, and fires the soul of her helpmate, Adam, with the pure flame of guiltless love, and lulls to sweet repose creation’s lord and master. O happy innocence ! O fortunate Eve, handmaid of Heaven ! resplendent queen of universal good ! But alas ! Eve is already corrupted, and how different is the scene ! The unhallowed fire of concupiscence flames in her bosom, and claims the empire over sovereign reason ; the once- calm region of peace becomes turbu- lent and lost ; the strong passions of discord, hatred, and remorse, harrow up her tortured soul. No longer the harmony of soft melodious sounds echoes through Eden’s sweet-scented groves, for now, shorn of her native splendour, she is cast out, and ex- iled on the land of desolation, clad with the disgraceful trammels of rebellion, a burden to herself, a curse to her rising progeny. Sad state of corrupted woman ! Even in our present state of in- firmity, do we not behold woman, while virtuous, like a house- hold divinity, leading her tender offspring in the paths of inno- cence, stemming the torrent of corruption while in the bud of life, and rocking her infants in the cradle of religion ? She in- structs them, as they advance, in the articles of their faith, guards them by her precepts against the maxims of a wicked world, and encourages them by her example to the pursuit of purity and honour. Her husband, attracted by the calm serenity of domestic comfort, no longer takes delight in the riots of the tavern, and finds happiness only in the bosom of his wife and family. We be- hold her softening all the coarser passions of his soul with the sweetness of her manner, alluring him by the most endearing wiles to habits of temperance and virtue, and often, with ineffable meekness, smiling on the wreck of an abating storm. Would we then be distinguished from the savage brute, if deprived of the society of woman ? But view her when neglected and thrown out on the world. Alas ! the prospect is blackened with tenfold 103 misery. Cast off from the arms of her first seducer, she boldly vows vengeance against the human race ; and robbed of her purity* as a lioness of her cubs, she roams through society, spreading pestilence in her track, and carrying plague and desolation to the breast of man. Thus, when the pure day has closed his sacred eye, the indomitable tiger, licensed by the shading hour of guilt, darts fierce from the Lybian wild, or from the inhospitable woods of Mauritania, and scorning all the taming arts of man, wildly stalks, and with repeated roars, demands of the forest his wonted food. Equally fierce, equally wild, as he, does neglected woman ream through our streets, and fellest of the fell, the child of vengeful nature dooms to destruction the foolish passenger, per- haps an adulterous husband, or thoughtless and unspotted youth, who purchases vice at too dear a price ! The feelings of nature, overcome by desperation, no longer startle at the voice of honour; that nervous system, that formerly recoiled at every rude approach, no longer shrinks from threatening destruction ; till, arrested in her career by the ministers of justice, she terminates her unfortunate career on the public scaffold, or worn out by disease, she drops to ashes, and expires amidst the ruins of a surrounding confla- gration. Of this enough — of this enough. I will no longer torture your wounded imagination, or probe thus deeply your generous minds. Woman, I trust, has a nobler claim, than requires to be extorted from lacerated feelings. To you, now, avaricious man, I address myself; you, rotten branch, lopped from the trunk of society, and fitted only for the fire ; you, murderer of these little children, by not sharing with them the superfluities which you possess ! You, like your father Mammon, who admire more the gilded pavement of heaven than the joys of the beatific vision ; like him, I say, you enter the sa- cred door of the sanctuary, and while I call aloud on you to hear, perhaps you are dreaming of your rusty coffers. 0 monster of nature, ensanguined man ! and have you now become the lion of the plain ? Yes, and worse too ; the wolf who drinks the blood of his bleating prey, has never drunk her milk or worn her fleece ; the tiger that deadly hangs at the strong chest of the honest steer, considers him not as his benefactor. But you, covetous 104 man, worse than the prowling herd, dip your hands in the gore of innocence, by withdrawing your leaden arms from the support of these fair children, clad with the sweet smiles of virtue, look- ing erect towards heaven, and begging of the Father of mercy to bless their generous benefactors. You, I repeat, are stained with their blood, and the blood of thousands of famished orphans; you are a beast of prey ; therefore, you ought to bleed. Sons of mercy, drag forth from the dark abode of their black- ened hearts the guilty sons of avarice ; drag them, I say, into the light of day ; wrench from their hands the iron rod of oppression ; make them feel the pangs they inflict themselves. Then bury them in their native land — the grave. There they were bom, for cold and hungry as the grave, they feast on the reeking entrails of human victims. There let avarice watch, and expand her raven wings as a monument o’er the dead. O my brethren ! indignation, methinks, bums within your bowels at the thought of avarice, and compassion for these poor children swells your generous breast. In each of them, you may behold the unfortunate traveller, who, on his way “ from Jerusalem to Jericho, fell among the robbers, who wounded him, and left him half dead.” And who, think you, relieved him ? Perhaps the Levite ! No ; the obdurate Levite saw him, and passed by. Perhaps, then, the Priest of the Most High came to his aid ? No ; the Jewish Priest went down the same way, and seeing him, passed by also. 0 hardness of heart ! 0 cruel insensibility, to behold thus unmoved the distress of their fellow- creature ! Poor stranger ! how keen must be the anguish of his mind and body, to find himself friendless in an unknown land ! But while he bitterly lamented his hard fate, a warm-hearted Samaritan, harrowed through the soul at the sight of his sufferings, surveys his distress with sympathetic sorrow, and binds up his wounds, though a stranger to his religion, his country, and creed. Good God ! what dishonour is reflected on the true religion, when her ministers, who ought always to have a sigh for indigence, on the contrary, forget the object of mercy in the dark bigotry of their hearts ; and because they consider him as an exile from the pale of their Church, imagine the dying man unworthy of their charity ! Is this religion? No; words are but leaves; 105 actions are the fruits of religion. Such I will not hesitate to brand with the epithet of unchristian teachers, abandoned ministers, with frozen loins, though adorned with the robes of sanctity, wretches with opened Bibles and locked bowels. Heavens ! is this the doctrine of the Divine Jesus ? No ; for Christ did not desire the inquisitive lawyer to follow the example of the Levite or the Jewish priest, but that of the pious Samaritan, who practised mercy and compassion. I know, my brethren, there are many Catholics w T ho, with un- licensed liberty, openly dive into the conduct of their clergy, and seem happy to find a stumbling-block in the way. They dismember them. Worm-eaten calumny then bursts forth, and dissects the sacred victims with the keen edge of the carving-knife. “ The clergy,” say they, “ who wallow in riches — we never see them stretch their hand to the poor ! What misers they are ! Surely, avarice must be a canonized saint, since so much revered by the clergy.” Silence, foul tongue of misrepresentation ! Were I not persuaded that it would be highly vilifying to the character of the priesthood, I would expose to your view the miserable means of our subsistence, which allow us not a scanty meal in the day. And is this wal- lowing in riches ? If some have amassed treasures by channels unknown to me, why pine away at their prosperity ? Why fasten a tooth in the withered jaws of venerable age, spent in the labours of the Lord ? If such there are, and want charity, I have already placed them in their proper seats. They are, I repeat, abandoned ministers, and were this stole and white garment the only em- blems of my religion and charity, I would be unworthy the sacred charge I bear. But remember, the majority of your clergy are buried in poverty, and unable to bestow a halfpenny, nay, a farthing to the poor, and some to my own certain knowledge, de- prived of friends and relations, are happy to descend at the dusk of evening into a sordid cellar, and there dine on a salted her- ring, a fragment of bread, and a draught of water ! Cease, then, to stain your hands with the blood of your clergy, whose dreams are far different from that of king Pharaoh, in which he saw the fat kine of Egypt devoured by the lean ; but they, on the con- trary, meagre and poor, see themselves devoured by the rich and fat ones, and a famine ensues, not of seven years, but of seventy - o 106 seven, if nature, unfortunately, prolong their lives to that period. Cease, I say, and rather examine your own conduct, which you will not find ennobled by one single good action, from the cradle to the crutch ; nothing diversified by nothing ! What, then, must I say ? Go, imitate the example of the giddy shambles-fly ; feast on the corrupted carcass, and let the sound part alone. Before I conclude, I think it my duty to address a few words to the fairer part of this congregation. Ye young and gay ones, therefore, who sport in unlicensed extravagance, whose whole life is but one giddy round, from vanity to vice, whose sole study, from blooming youth to sinking age, is employed about the fashion of a feather to plume your empty skulls, and the co- lour of a riband to vie with a jealous rival ; whose religion is va- nity, and whose prayer-book is the mirror ; will you, also, remain deaf to the cries of forlorn woman, a distressed sister, who, with suppliant voice, calls on you for relief? View yourself for a mo- ment ; then cast a look on your suffering sister, and tell me if your conscience is at ease. Your neat gown, your fashionable shawl, your silken net, your gaudy bonnet, and artificial locks, form the light of a beautiful portrait. But^view the gloomy shade, in the tattered rags of your famishing sister ; her starving jaws, her pale cheeks, and hollow eyes, serve but to add double lus- tre to your blooming countenance, swelling with all the charms of plenty ; while a delicate veil hangs negligently graceful, art- fully concealing the well-known fault, and the studious fan venti- lates the ornament of its mistress, and at seasonable moments, exposes the jetty eye-brow and the bright darts of the raven eye. Thus, in a calm night of summer, a silvered cloud half obscures the light of the full-orbed moon, which, from time to time, peeps ruddy from behind the thin curtain of corrupted ether, and at length smiles in full glory over the verdant fields. Ah ! remember, then, ye fair ones, that your giddy circle is al- most run out ! That form, now so admired, must shortly totter on the awful brink of eternity. Those eyes, now so replete with charms, will shortly but faintly glimmer in their hollow sockets ; and the painted ornament of a prattling drawing-room must de- scend to dwell with bones and corruption in the gloomy caverns of death. 107 Be charitable, therefore, be charitable to these little ones, if you mean to die the death of the just. If not, your de- parting spirit will resemble in its passage the wild whirlwind in the tempest. But if you are merciful, your soul shall be like to the setting sun on a calm evening of summer, when he descends in the western ocean, where the pure ether mixes with the wave, surrounded on all sides with the enchanting beauties of variegated light, and the bright charms of a glowing horizon. To you all, then, such as ye are, I cry out, give alms to the poor, and wash away the stains of guilt. If you have much, give accordingly, and let not the spirit of avarice cramp the sensa- tions of your soul. If you have but little, give it with a good heart. Give it to God-r-give it to your neighbour — give it to dis- tressed woman, our solace in misery, the ornament of our pros- perity, the companion of our adversity, whom neither pestilence nor famine can unshackle from our side Through whatever clime the imagination wanders, from the equator to the opposite poles, from Africa’s heats to the ice of Greenland, we shall find woman to he the ever-constant and faithful friend of man. Will you, then, spare her, or will you spare your money ? Ah ! my dear brethren, let this night be joyful to the orphan, and if I can promise anything, from the sacred commission with which I am entrusted, blessings, tenfold blessings, will light upon your heads. May God Almighty bless you all. Amen. A SERMON ON THE DUE OBSERVANCE OF SUNDAY. “ Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath day.” — Exodus , xx, 8. Such are the scandalous excesses in which the children of the Gospel indulge themselves at present, even on the days which the Church has consecrated to the service of the Lord ; such are the fashionable dissipations by which the precept of sanctifying the Christian Sabbath is most shamefully violated in these degenerate times, that our spiritual Superior, alarmed at the rapid progress of irreverence and disobedience to the Canons of the Church, has zealously requested, that on this day a discourse should be de- livered in every chapel of this archdiocese, on the important ob- ligation of sanctifying the Lord’s day. Certainly, my brethren, the first duty of man is, to obey the commandments of his God ; in short, it comprehends all his other obligations. Being Sovereign Master of all things by creation, conservation, and ultimate destination, the Lord God Almighty has an unquestionable right to command, and what he commands, every creature is evidently obliged to fulfil. Has the Almighty God been pleased to exert his supreme power and dominion over man ? It cannot be doubted for a moment hut that He would have subjected man, like the brute inhabitants of the field, to a uniform obedience to his holy laws. But, in creating us, the Almighty has thought proper to endow us with 109 freewill, by which we may offer or we may withhold that supreme homage that we owe him by all the strong claims of creation and redemption. Subjection of any kind would show the power and dominion of God over all his creatures ; but free and unconstrained adoration proclaims aloud his greatness and his goodness. Should you ask me, with the admiring prophet David, “ Is he not our God ? and if he is, can he stand in need of anything we possess ?” Or, what is it that is due from us, mortals, to the Supreme Ruler of the universe ? I will answer you, with St. Paul, that, in gene- ral, what is due from man to God are honour, glory, and praise. By ten thousand titles this homage is due to our God, as our Creator and Redeemer, as our hope and reward, in short, as the kind Giver of “ all good gifts.” This is the duty pointed out by the Holy Ghost in these words of Christ in the Gospel : “ Render, therefore, to God, the things that are of God.” We all, indeed, admit in speculation, that the Almighty God is Sovereign Mas- ter of all, and has an indisputable right to our homage and ado- ration. But unfortunately, speculation is but a barren soil, where brambles and briers vegetate, but the virtues of the Christian never arrive to maturity. Why do we not reduce our theory to a rational practice ? Why do we not prove ourselves to be the obsequious servants of the Lord, by fulfilling our various duties and obeying his command- ments ? Look to inanimate nature, and you will behold the heavens and the earth proclaiming the glory of God, and fulfilling exactly the purposes for which they were created ? The sun in the firmament ceases not to enlighten the various planets that in succession roll around its glittering orb, thus producing with us all the alternate changes of days, nights, and seasons, summer heats and winter cold. Thus, for nearly six thousand years, has that creature fulfilled, without deviation, the great end for which it was made by God ! View the earth on which you stand. In the inclement season of winter its vegetating powers are wisely sus- pended. In spring they open and bud forth various fruits for the support of man and all the animals of the land. In summer these fruits are ripened, and in autumn they are gathered and stored. Thus, ever faithful to the hand of the Almighty that made it, and ever regular in fulfilling the end for which it was created, this J 10 deal, dumb, and blind creature, earth, will ever remain a standing monument of reproach to man, endowed with reason and noble faculties ; because that reason and these faculties, instead of being employed in the great end for which they were bestowed, are daily and almost constantly busied in offering some indignity to our great and generous Creator ! O unblushing man ! be at length roused from your lethargy, and learn to claim the mercy of your God in the day of his visi- tation, by faithfully discharging all your duties whilst here on earth, and by obeying with promptitude his divine precepts. “ Kemember to keep holy the Sabbath day," are the words of my text. They will now be the object of your pious attention for a few minutes. The institution and obligation of sanctifying the Christian Sabbath, or Lord's day, shall be the subject of my short, but, I hope, instructive discourse, O amiable, adorable Jesus! O no more suffering, but triumphant Jesus ! Thou who, by thy victory over sin and atoning death, hast opened to us a free access to eternal life, add on this day the gift of perseverance to thy former mercies, that we may die no more but to the flesh and sin, and that we may ascend in thought with thee to the mansions of eternal bliss, that one day we may be worthy, through the merits of thee, 0 Lord Jesus Christ, to participate in the joys of heaven. We read in the second chapter of Genesis, that “the Lord rested on the seventh day from all the work which he had done ; and he blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because, on it, he had rested from all his works.” The Lord, it is true, could have finished the creation with a single fiat ; but he was pleased to produce it progressively, that the w T orld might gradually receive its perfection; and to “show that he did not act from necessity, as some have impiously asserted, but with the most perfect liberty, wisdom, and understanding. By a general precept of religion, and by a law engrafted on the heart of man by the great Author of nature, all are bound to observe a weekly festival, in commemoration of the rest of the Godhead, by devoting it to the divine service, and employing it in the ex- ercises of piety and religion. This sacred and indispensable pre- cept has been confirmed by the positive law of God, repeated in Ill the most solemn manner in the patriarchal law before the days of Moses, in the Mosaic dispensation also, and lastly, in the law of the Gospel, of which the others were but types and figures. Thus, from the beginning of the world, from the days of Adam to the present moment, a particular day out of seven w r as conse- crated to the solemn worship of the Godhead, although that day has been changed for weighty motives in the different dispensa- tions of the positive law of God. The Ten Commandments of the Old Law, engraved by the finger of God on the tables of stone, and given to Moses on Mount Sinai, are but a republication of so many capital precepts of the law of nature. Consequently, they must bind at all times, and under every law or dispensation. Nay, the great and learned St. Thomas of A quin declares, that all theologians agree, that by the law of nature, a set day which frequently occurs, that is, one out of seven or thereabouts, is necessarily to be consecrated to the divine worship, with an interruption of worldly employ- ments and corporal labour. Thus, the law of the Sabbath day, or day of rest, inasmuch as one day of the week was commanded to be kept holy, was a precept of the law of nature. After the resurrection of Christ and the descent of the Holy Ghost, the festival of the Sabbath was changed from Saturday to Sunday, that is, from the last to the first day of the week. This we learn from the constant practice and tradition of the Church. St. John was in the Island of Patmos on the Lord’s day, when the divine Revelations (or Apocalypse) were discovered to him (Ajjoc. i, 10). St. Luke, in the “Acts of the Apostles/’ speaks of the first day of the week, on which the disciples met together to celebrate the Holy Eucharist, and on which St. Paul preached till midnight, and converted thousands. These points we learn from apostolical tradition, and in them Christian theologians of every denomination most admirably agree. “ It is not necessary,” says the learned Protestant Bishop White, “ to demonstrate out of Scripture, that the Apostles ordained the Sunday to be a weekly holiday ; for it could not possibly have come to pass, that all and every apostolical Church throughout the universal world should, in the beginning of their plantation, have consented together to make Sunday a weekly festival, unless 112 they had been directed thus by their founders, the holy Apostles themselves.” St. Ignatius, the disciple of St. Peter, and all the ancient Fathers, the immediate successors of the Apostles, mention the Lord’s day as substituted in the whole Christian Church for the Jewish Sabbath. Tertullian, in writing to the idolaters, and St. Justin Martyr in his “ Apology to the heathens,” call the Sab- bath by the name of Sunday ; which has continued ever since in the Christian Church. For, although this appellation originated in the idolatrous superstition of the pagans, as on that day they worshipped the sun, yet it had become the usual name by which the first day of the week was known ; so that it was then, as now, employed as a bare denominative term, without respect to any su- perstition. The motives for changing the Jewish Sabbath to Sun- day are many. The first, however, and the principal one, was, to honour the great mysteries of the Resurrection of Christ and the Descent of the Holy Ghost, which happened on Sunday. By the latter, the New Law of grace was promulgated ; and by Christ’s Resurrection, his victory over sin and hell was completed, and the great work of man’s redemption finally accomplished. To praise God for the creation of the world, was the primary motive for the determination (or institution) of the weekly festival on Saturday. Now, the redemption of mankind, and the reparation of the world by the incarnation, death, and resurrection of the Son of God, was a far greater mystery and a mercy infinitely brighter. This claims our homage on a more strict title than even the creation. Nor can the deliverance from the Egyptian bondage bear the least proportion to this immense benefit, this utmost ex- ertion of divine omnipotence and goodness, by which a sinful race of creatures were unshackled from the fetters of sin, and delivered from the bondage of hell. u The principal mysteries,” says the great St. Leo, “ which God, in the dispensations of his mercy, has wrought in our fa- vour, give a lustre to the dignity of Sunday. On it, the world received a beginning ; on it, death was vanquished, and life began to reign through the resurrection of Christ. On it, the Holy Ghost descended upon the Apostles, delivering to us a heavenly rule.” 118 Thus far, on the institution of the Sabbath, and on the mo- tives for changing the day under the Gospel dispensation. A few words now on observing the Sabbath. So strictly was the Sab- bath observed by the Jews, that on it they were forbidden to dress meat, to travel more than about a mile, to buy or sell anything, however trifling, or, in necessity, to take an ox out of the water. Soon after the written law had been promulgated by Moses, whilst the Jews were in the desert in their passage out of Egypt into the land of promise, a poor man was found gathering a few sticks on the Sabbath day. He was conducted by his irritated brethren before Moses, in order to receive the sentence of the law. That great legislator of God’s chosen people would not presume to pronounce himself on the crime, but, in his character of Pro- phet, together with his brother Aaron, consulted the Most High on the case. The Almighty, roused to wrath by the audacity of the Sabbath-breaker, who so lately had heard the dreadful sen- tence from the lips of Moses, commanded that the criminal should be stoned to death by all the people ; and in pursuance of this sentence, he was led out of the camp, amidst the shouts of the populace. He was conducted to the spot where he bad been taken in the fact, and the whole multitude, eager to show their zeal for the honour of God and the sanctity of his festival, rejoiced in be- coming his executioners. A vast heap of stones, under which the unfortunate transgres- sor lay soon buried, remained a standing monument of the just vengeance of the Lord, and a warning to others, never to profane his holy festival. Of this law, God himself hath pronounced, “ Whosoever shall break it, let him die the death.” And again in Exodus, be says, “ Let that man die. Let all the multitude stone him out of the camp. He was rebellious against the Lord. He hath made void his precept.” Ah ! my brethren, how should this example make us tremble ! It should strike us with the most awful respect for the sanctity of the Lord’s day. If the poor man who transgressed this precept in apparently so small a matter, in which many circumstances seem to have extenuated his fault, was punished with such seve- rity, what treatment must we not expect, if his example will not deter us from perhaps a more impious profanation of the Lord’s P Ill (lay ? When we consider the rigorous sentence passed by the Almighty on the first Sabbath-breaker, we cannot be surprised that Nehemias showed so much zeal in reforming abuses against this precept, that he caused the gates of Jerusalem to be closed on the Sabbath, to prevent the Jews, and especially the pagan traders, from bringing in wine, figs, or other burdens on that day, as we read in the second book of Esdras. “ What is this evil thing,” cries out Nehemias, “ which you are doing — profaning the Sabbath day ? Did not our fathers do these things, and our God brought all this evil upon us and upon this city ? And you bring more wrath upon Israel by violating the Sabbath.” The great St. Gregory of Tours, in his tenth book of the “ History of the Franks,” says, “Many of us have ourselves seen, and others have heard of persons killed with thunder, whilst they followed their husbandry on these (Sabbath) days ! Some have been punished with a sudden contraction of their nerves ; and some have been struck dead by visible fire, and their bodies and very bones consumed in a moment, and reduced to ashes ; and many other terrible chastisements have been and are still in- flicted for this crime.” We find it recorded in the first book of Kings, that Saul had pro- voked the Divine indignation on the plains of Galgal, for having deserted the feast of holocausts to attack the approaching enemy, and was afterwards stripped of all his honours for having disobeyed the precepts of the Lord, delivered to him by Samuel. But the most ordinary judgments with which God punishes the Sabbath- breakers are invisible, and of all others the most terrible, by which He abandons such sinners to a spiritual blindness and hardness of heart, and delivers them over to a reprobate sense, which is the most dreadful punishment that the Almighty ven- geance can inflict. To imagine, however, that merely to refrain from servile work is sufficient to satisfy the obligation of sanctifying the Sabbath, would be to fall into the pernicious error of many carnal Jews. We are commanded “ to keep it holy.” Now, in order to do this, we must employ it in the worship of God, in pious meditation and good works, by which God is honoured and our souls sanctified. When God repeats this law in Deuteronomy, “ Observe the 115 day of the Sabbath, to sanctify it,” He dommands us to separate this day from the common employments of life, and consecrate it entirely to His holy service. It is, therefore, clear that the word Sabbath mentioned in the precept does not signify a rest of inac- tion, as many of the Jews erroneously imagined. No; the rest commanded is an imitation of the rest of God in the eternal Sab- bath, the contemplation of His divine perfections, and of that which the blessed enjoy in heaven ; both full of ardour, — both an uninterrupted action. “ God’s rest is all action,” says the great St. Augustine. The rest of a Christian, then, on festivals, is to consist of a “ serious application to the sanctification of his soul, by interior exercises of religion,” as St. Chrysostom beauti- fully remarks. And in fact, if we consult the 6 th chapter of the book of Joshua, we will find this truth confirmed in the positive order of God to the leader of his army. He commanded Joshua to march the army before the walls of Jericho, and there to remain encamped for seven days, from the first to the sixth day, both included. He also ordered that the tribes should in solemn procession march round the city, and then return quietly to their camp, where they might spend the day in their usual domestic employments. But on the seventh day, which was exactly the Sabbath of the Jews, as Lyranus and other expositors observe, “ The tribes,” says the Lord, “ shall march seven times round the city, and on the se- venth round, they shall cry out, with a loud voice : then the walls of Jericho shall tumble to the ground, and my people shall enter in every direction.” Certain I am that you already understand the mystery which seems enveloped in this narrative of Holy Writ. In the six first days are figured the days preceding the Sabbath, and on those days, the Lord is satisfied that, after spending a short portion of time in prayer, you occupy the remainder in discharging the duties attached to your situation in life. But on the seventh day, you must, with the tribes, rise with the sun. You must double and redouble your prayers. You must seven times march, with holy ardour, round the invisible Jericho. Then shall the walls which your sins have raised against you, tumble to the ground, and the gates of the heavenly city will be open to re- 116 ceive you. What can be more beautiful than this interesting pas- sage of Scripture ? The principal duties of religion which on Sundays and festivals are to be observed for their sanctification, are, public and pri- vate prayer, holy meditation, or pious reading, instruction in the mysteries of faith and moral duties, self-examination, re- ligious education of children, works of mercy, spiritual and cor- poral, and above all, the frequentation of the holy sacraments as the principal means of our sanctification, and an assiduous and edifying attendance at the great Sacrifice of the New Law, where the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ are offered as a sacrifice of propitiation for the sins of the world. Alms, also, are to be given more liberally on this day. In Leviticus, we find that two lambs were offered to the Lord on the Sabbath ; whereas, on all other days only one was offered as a sacrifice of holocaust. Tobias having prepared a dinner on the festival, sent his son to tell the poor to eat it with them. As to recreations on festivals ; — they are not condemned, pro- vided they are innocent, inoffensive, grave, decent, and moderate. They ought not, however, to take place during the public offices of religion, or until our spiritual duties shall have been fulfilled ; and they must be no impediment to the private duties of devotion. Such might be, an evening walk, a grave conversation, and the visit of a virtuous friend ; but all diversions are absolutely for- bidden which are inconsistent with the piety, dignity, and gravity of a day consecrated to religion, or which may give offence or scandal to the good and virtuous. For this reason, the Councils of the Church unanimously con- demn, as a scandalous abuse and profanation, all riotous parties, immoderate drinking, wanton dancing and songs, &c., sitting in taverns or ale-houses, on a day appointed for the divine service, and the contemplation of the great mystery of our redemption. The great St. Charles Borromeo said with truth, that “ a Sabbath spent in idleness is the Sabbath of beasts of burden ; but those who employ it in sensual indulgence, in idle conversation, in sur- feiting, or wanton sonnets, make it a Sabbath of Satan, or the devil’s holiday.” Hence, St. Augustine says, “ Keep the Sab- bath ; but not carnally, or in delights, like the Jews, who abused 117 this rest to sin.” They would have done better,” says this holy Doctor, “to dig the whole day, than to dance the whole day in their porticos.” And now, my brethren, to conclude. Having explained the in- stitution, the obligation, and the means of sanctifying the Sab- bath, will each of you put this question to yourselves: “How do I spend the Lord’s day ?” Ah ! yes ; how do you spend the Lord's day, you ambitious, covetous, or sensual man ? Alas ! the first machinates schemes of aggrandisement ; the second feeds on the various reflections as to how he can starve mankind to support himself ; and the last, instead of sending forth sighs of repentance, profanes the Sabbath by chanting some amorous son- net to the object of his lustful passion. Oh ! here, then, I must cry out with the Lord, “ Let them die the death ; let them be stoned by the multitude.” Must such pro- faners of the Christian Sabbath be screened from the vengeance of Heaven, while the poor Jew is condemned to a miserable death? How do you spend the Lord’s day, ye cursers, ye drunkards, ye blasphemers ? Alas ! instead of praising their Lord and send- ing forth penitential sighs to draw down the blessings of Heaven, they employ the precious hours appointed for working out their salvation, in vomiting forth, like the devils in hell, the most infernal blasphemies against the Divinity, and thus pollute the sanctity of the Godhead ! Then, “ let those also die the death,’’ &c. How do you spend the Lord’s day, ye fathers and mothers of families ? Is it in instructing your children and domestics in the maxims of the Gospel and the sublime mysteries of religion, and thus opening to them the gates of salvation ? Or do you not rather show them, 0 fathers ! the broad way to perdition by sitting whole hours in taverns, or consuming your nights at the gam- bling table ? And you, O mothers ! do you not sacrifice your precious time at the unholy shrine of vanity, and teach your in- nocent daughters to spend the Lord’s day in ornamenting your perishable bodies at the toilet, and employ their budding minds on the fashion of a feather or the colour of a ribbon ? Ah ! then, “ let such die the death,” &c. How do you keep the Sabbath, ye profaners of the blood of Christ, who, by receiving him un- worthily, sign the sentence of your own damnation ? “ Let them 118 die the death,” &c. “ Therefore,” saith God to the Jews, “ your new moons, your Sabbaths, and your festivals, my soul loathes. “ because,” says Jeremy, “ they are festivals consecrated, not to God, hut to your passions and to the devil.” O Eternal God ! from the throne of heaven look down with pity on us, prostrate here before the image of our suffering Jesus ! We solemnly promise to live henceforward according to the spirit of the Gospel, and by our future conduct on the Lord’s day, make atonement for our past irreverences. Spare us, 0 Lord ! spare us, we beseech thee, through the merits of thy Eternal Son, our dear Kedeemer. Henceforth, we shall live as Christians, that, when dying, we may claim the comforts of religion, and after death, the everlasting joys of the heavenly Sion. Amen. A SERMON ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. “ When Jesus, therefore, had lifted up his eyes, and saw that a very great mul- titude cometh to him, he says to Philip : ‘ Whence shall we buy bread that these may eat?’ ” — St. John , vi, 5. Admirable, indeed, is the charity of our Divine Redeemer, as recorded in the sacred page of this day’s Gospel, and bright is the example therein proposed for our instruction and imitation. Our adorable Saviour, unceasing in the great work of his heavenly mission, passed over the Sea of Gallilee, which is that of Tiberias, and having ascended a mountain with his disciples, sat down to instruct them in the mysterious truths of salvation. He looks around, and seeing a vast crowd assembled about him, who had abandoned themselves to hunger and want, in order to behold and hear the great Prophet, of whom fame had so loudly spoken, he melts into compassion, laments their distressed situa- tion, and in all the tenderness of condoling sympathy, determines to administer comfort to their almost desponding souls, and nourishment to their debilitated, enfeebled frames, by a powerful exertion of his omnipotent arm. To try their faith and hope, although all- conscious of the re- sult, “ He said to his disciple Philip : ‘ Whence shall we buy bread, that these [all] may eat?’ Philip answered him: ‘Two hundred penny-worth of bread is not sufficient that everyone may take a little.’ Then his disciple Andrew, brother of Simon Peter, said to him : ‘ There is a boy here who hath five barley loaves and two fishes ; hut (he added) what are these among so many ?’ Then [our Divine Lord and Saviour] Jesus said : ‘ Make the men sit down.’ Now there was (says the text) much grass in the place ; the men, therefore, sat down, in number about five thou- sand. And Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks,” the multiplication, by a miracle of his goodness and power, became so great, that, as the text adds, “ he distributed to those who were sat down ; in like manner, also of the fishes, as much as they would.” Nay, so great was the profusion, that, at our Lord’s request, “ they gathered up and filled twelve bas- kets with the fragments of the five barley loaves, which remained over and above to those who had eaten.” Adorable Jesus ! praise, honour, and glory be ever unto thy Holy Name ! and let those hallowed sounds echo joyfully from each heart, through every corner of this sacred temple. Behold, then, my beloved brethren, that Lord of all, who, when as man, pinched by hunger and thirst, refused to perform a miracle for his own subsistence, behold him, I say, at the call of distress or wants of others, battling on this day against the established laws of nature, inverting, as it were, for a time, the usual course of creation at the piercing cries of famine, and feed- ing with his anointed hands about five thousand languishing ob- jects with five loaves and two fishes ! Stupendous effect indeed is this of the charity of Jesus ! Christians, beloved Catholics, in the conduct thus related of our Divine Redeemer, let us view, as in a mirror, the fair portrait 120 of what our own should be. If we are not, like him, endowed with the gift of miracles to relieve our distressed brethren, we are, at least, furnished with an abundance of earthly goods to support them when indigent, and thus are we constituted by Heaven the depositories of an all-wise and all merciful God. But more than this, if we have hearts, we should have them open to the dictates of nature and the feelings of compassion, as our Lord elsewhere so beautifully shows us in the conduct of the Good Samaritan, which he recommends to all his followers when he emphatically says, “ Go thou and do likewise !” If this charity, so far as relieving mere human wants, be so desirable, how much more when to this is superadded the great and all-engrossing charity of teaching to the young and innocent, for whom we plead, the lessons of sound morality and religion ! Whether we pass over the first revelation from God to his people, then through his commands by the Patriarchs and Pro- phets, and then through Moses to Christ, in whom all figures and laws were completed, we see the necessity for communicating these lessons of virtue and religion. Even those who, by the corruption of their hearts, lost or abandoned the true worship and knowledge of God, yet they still insist on some form of re- ligion. Hence, even those whose reason seemed, as it were, in its in- fancy, and who were strangers to the improvements of social civili- zation, did not 'entirely forget “ this still, small voice” of reli- gion. But be their systems as they may, one more refined than the other, that is not the point now in question. What I wish to prove is, that mankind, even in the wildest state of savage na- ture, at all times, from the formation of man to the present moment, in every clime, from the Equator to the Poles, consider religion (false or true as they understood it) as the grand chain which links man to man in the discharge even of social duties, and still more, of those in reference to God ! If such effects were the happy consequences arising to the world from religious impressions before the coming of Christ, what must we say of the utility of religion in promoting univer- sal good at this day, when the once-clouded horizon is irradiated by the pure morality and bright beams of Christianity ! This, indeed, is the system which explains and inculcates the truths of its doctrines in all the splendour of majestic dignity and in- comparable love. It exhibits an alluring prospect of future hap- piness to the first, and thus most powerfully attracts us mortals to the faithful discharge of every duty we owe to God, to our- selves, and to our neighbour. It stems the torrent of vice, by announcing the terrible and eternal horrors of future punish- ments on unrepented guilt. Its domains are calculated to attract and please not only the speculating philosopher, but also the simple, unenlightened votary of vulgar superstition. Both may equally behold in this looking-glass, through the light of Faith, the adorable Divinity, seated on high in glory, surrounded on all sides by the noble attributes of almighty Power, omnis- cient Wisdom, infinite Justice, boundless Mercy, and universal Presence. Inspired by this pure religion, the enlightened philosopher re- cognises in this Divinity, or Indivisible Essence, three distinct Persons ; yet distinguished in such a manner, as not to be in- compatible with essential Unity. Whilst “ led by Faith, and not (alone) by sight,” he feeds his ingenious curiosity and illu- mines his understanding by dwelling upon the sublime mysteries of Christianity, with the motives and proofs of their divinity ; whilst, on the other hand, the humble peasant, untutored in the deep researches of speculation or scholastic subtleties, con- tents himself with simply believing the truths of revelation, and what the Church of God makes known, which his confined ideas cannot lead him to comprehend ; whilst, at the same time, full of faith, hope, and charity, he is big with the pleasing ex- pectation of one day enjoying the reward of his humble confi- dence, exclaiming with Job, “ This is the hope that is laid up in my bosom, that on the last day I will see God, my Saviour.” On the other hand, the unbelieving pagan or infidel philoso- pher is lost in a maze of wonder and confusion, and knows not how to account for the heterogeneous and irreconcilable principles which operate in his nature. Why (says he in the pride of his heart) such an inexplicable medley of wisdom and folly, of rec- titude and error, of benevolence and malignity, of sincerity and fraud ? Why such contradictions (he cries) exhibited throughout Q. 122 the whole conduct of man ? He says, “ I know not, and will not believe.” But the Christian hesitates not a moment. By the light of faith and revelation, this wonderful mystery is instantly developed, and the motives for believing it (whilst it is still mysterious) left rational and convincing. He calls to mind Satan and his apos- tate fellow-angels. He reads in the opening page of tradition and revelation, that they attempted to transfer their turpitude and misery to man ; and, alas ! whilst man had not only the com- mand of God, but his own free-will to reject the snares of his sworn enemy, he was too successful. He sees that man was tempted, and fell from his original in- nocence, that these seeds of perdition were sown by the rebel angels, and soon ripened into guilt and horror, and the whole sublunary creation became the theatre of discord and mischief. Hence, he says, the darkness of my understanding, the depravity of my will, the pollution of my heart, the irregularity of my affections, and the absolute subversion of my whole internal sys- tem by a strong propensity to evil, which, however, God’s grace, added to our love and obedience, can conquer effectually. See you not, then, my dearly-beloved brethren, that without the light of pure religion and the revelation of God shining over the face of all things, with the speculative principles of Christianity, and the pure morality she teaches, we should all have been buried in the darkness of Egypt, and the system of nature must remain an inscrutable and inexplicable mystery. Thus far on the theory of religion : a few words on its prac- tical principles will naturally lead me to the great object of this morning’s discourse, while it will also appear, that a state or society without religion and morality, can have but a transient and momentary existence. There are two grand principles of action in the system of Christian morality. The first is the love of God, which is the sovereign passion in every perfect mind. The second is, the love of man, which regulates our actions according to the various relations in which we stand, whether as members of communi- ties at large, or as individuals in particular. This sacred con- nexion can never be totally extinguished by any temporary injury, for, according to tlie Gospel precept, it ought to subsist in some degree even amongst those who are considered enemies. It dictates very reciprocal duty between master and servant, gover- nor and subjects, friends and friends, men and men. It in- spires the most sublime and extensive charity, a boundless and disinterested effusion of tenderness for the whole species, which feels their distress, and operates for their relief and improvement. These celestial dispositions, and the different duties which are their natural offspring, are the various gradations by which the Christian hopes to attain the perfection of his nature, and enjoy the happiness promised him by his God. Happy state, then, is that of the Christian! By his theoretical tenets, the origin, economy, and revelations of intelligent na- ture can alone be rationally explained ; while his practical prin- ciples are solely capable of conducting him to his highest per- fection, whether he considers himself in his individual or social capacity. It is, therefore, in his opinion, the eternal wonder of angels, the indelible opprobrium of man, that a religion so worthy of God, so suitable to the frame and circumstances of our nature, so consonant to all the dictates of reason, so friendly to the dig- nity and improvement of intelligent beings, pregnant with genuine comfort and delight, should be rejected and despised. It is the basis of society and the link of universal harmony. Without it we are nothing ; with it we are everything. It is the pillar of brotherly love, and the inexpugnable bulwark of the state. It actuates the heart, influences the mind, and gives a sure and powerful sanction to the otherwise insufficient and inefficient de- crees of human policy. Alas ! however, that now so many Christians of every rank and denomination seem by their actions to have forgotten that sacred name — Religion ! when they have buried every considera- tion, both temporal and eternal, in the dark den of faction and contention ; in short, when a cursed system of dividing politics seems to have destroyed all social intercourse between man and man. That religion and morality are the only lasting bonds of civil and universal society, and consequently, fundamentally necessary I'U to public prosperity, cannot be called in question by any one un- less some vain, empty fanatic, unacquainted with the nature of man, and totally ignorant of the laws of social life. The bright ornaments of ancient philosophy, although blinded, it is true, in the mists of dark superstition, yet were so fully con- vinced of the importance of religion to the welfare of the state, that on every occasion they established it as the only solid basis of political legislation. In the popular system of superstition fabricated by the legislators of Eome and Athens, the dog- mas of religion were strongly inculcated, and the doctrine of a future state held forth, as a most powerful incitement to the practice of virtue, and as a strong curb on the unruly passions of the unenlightened pagans. Mankind were not only flattered in their system with the hopes of continuing to exist beyond the term of the present life, but different conditions of existence were also promised. Some were exalted to their Olympus, and associated with the gods; others were rewarded with less illus- trious honours, and a moderate state of happiness in Elysium ; while those again, who, by their conduct in life, had not merited rewards, were consigned to the torments of Tartarus. Such were the notions prevalent amongst the children of idolatry, which, though unsupported by either evidence or plausibility, although but a mere tissue of absurdities, yet most powerfully operated on the morals of the votaries of a Plato and a Socrates. Even the rude tribes of ancient Gaul, and some other nations, not more civilized than they, had instilled into their minds the doctrine of immortality, in order to preserve society from the baneful con- tagion of riot and debauchery. It is true, their ideas of a future state of retribution were blended with numberless absurdities, much grosser than those which characterised the popular religion of the Greeks and Ro- mans. The latter was the superstition of a civilized people, among whom reason was unfolded and improved by cultivation. The former was that of barbarians, among w T hom ignorance held un- limited sway. Is it not strange, that three-fourths of the creation should be buried in profound ignorance, and totally degraded, in order that the remaining few might be rendered worthy their rank in society ? 125 It cannot be the intention of a good God, that both the bodies and the minds of his poor servants should be chained down in brutal slavery. Man was destined to be enlightened and to be free in his station of life, and not a degraded slave. I do not contend that a refined education in the poorer classes is absolutely necessary. No ; such might incapacitate them for the laborious functions of society. But I contend, that an elementary educa- tion, such as reading and writing, will much contribute to teach them decency and subordination, and operate most powerfully in reclaiming them from the riots of the tavern and the dangers of bad company, to order and industry. It would give patience to the labouring peasant, industry to the manufacturer, and peace to society at large, for such must be infallibly the fruits of the moral emancipation of the human mind. What! must man, though the last, yet the noblest work of the creation, the type of the Divinity, possessing a mind capable of instruction, a mind that reflects on the past, anticipates the future, surveys the varied works of infinite Power, from the groveling insect to the supreme cause of creation ; must man, whose soul is an image of the Godhead, whose duty is perfection, whose hope is immortality ; must he, I say, on a sudden, be snatched from his original grandeur and debased below the brute creation, consigned to ignorance and savage barbarity ? Ah ! no, my brethren ; it would be ill discharging the duties you owe to your neighbour, to leave him thus exposed to the ravages of immorality. Give him education, bestow on him the virtuous dignity of a rational being, and society shall be amply repaid by persevering industry, frugality, and sobriety, which are the mainsprings of all national prosperity. Let not, then, the diffe- rence in religious tenets cramp your charitable exertions ; this view would be too selfish, too much shackled by prejudice, to be acceptable to that God who preferred the zeal of the uncircum- cized Samaritan, to the cruel insensibility of the Levite, and the professed minister of his altar. I cannot too often repeat — Catholics, be liberal towards your dissenting brethren. They are formed by the same plastic band of Omnipotence, and tend to the same end that you do. Let not, however, this liberality become of too great latitude, that is, do not persuade yourselves that you can change your creed with your political sentiments . Do not imagine that an impend- ing storm can sanction your volatility, or patronise a change of religion. I will speak clearer. Do not flatter yourselves that the political shock which of late has threatened a part of the community with extermination, could authorise you to conform to the law -established religion of the land ; a religion, many pro- fessors of which I venerate from my heart, but in which I have not been born, nor you either. In short, we must not be waver- ing in our faith, like the reeds of the forest, that equally bend with the northern and the southern blast. We must not be the dis- ciples of Paul in the calm, and the followers of Luther in a tem- pest. I am sorry there are a few examples of this weakness of mind, nay, I will say perfidy, who, in order to rank them- selves with the mighty ones of the world, have trampled on their conscience and bartered their religion, — for what ? “ for a hand- ful of gilded dust, or a mess of pottage.” Think me not illiberal while I thus express myself ; I have never been wedded to bigotry, nor, I hope, ever shall. I speak from principle. It is the man of principle I admire ; and believe me while I tell you, that I would equally, and perhaps in stronger terms, reprobate the pagan, the Mahometan, the Israelite, and still more, any of my dissenting Christian brethren, if, through mere pecuniary motives, or from political interest, not from internal conviction, they would em- brace the faith which I profess, to establish their grandeur on the ruins of an injured conscience, at the expense of a betrayed com- munity. Be firm, therefore, in your faith ; love all your Chris- tian brethren with equal affection; forget, in God’s name, past injuries ; join all of you, hand and heart, in the common cause of your country, and then, while thus riveted together in univer- sal affection, you may not fear the apostate sons of Gaul, the uncircumcised atheists of France.* I have, perhaps, dwelt too long on the subject of religion. I beg your forgiveness; but as religion and morality form the great basis of society, I think I cannot too strongly inculcate their observance upon all, especially upon youth. * He speaks here of France under the horrors of the first Revolution. 127 It is during the age of infancy that religious habits are to be formed. When the mind is bent early towards vice, it is ab- solutely impossible to prevent the evil consequences that must necessarily arise from internal and almost innate corruption. Let us rock our infants, therefore, in the cradle of piety, let us in- stil into their dawning minds the sacred principles of religion, and then we may expect that the blessings of peace, good order, and prosperity, will be diffused through every part of this our favourite isle. We have a large field for the exercise of our charitable co-operation. Let it be our endeavour to be in readi- ness to assist and generously aid those who require to be helped in their charitable undertakings. To be charitable is to render ourselves agreeable to the God of Charity, and worthy of his eternal and priceless reward. We are but labouring in our own right and for our own interest by doing the work committed to our care by our Heavenly Father. Let ns not, therefore, hesi- tate in our labours when the compensation for our offerings on the altar of charity is at hand, when the crown is already pre- pared by celestial hands to adorn our brows, and the outstretched hands of our merciful Creator are ready to embrace us. No ; let it be our desire to persevere in the work of charity with a willing heart and energetic power, and we shall succeed. Some foolish mortals selfishly imagine that the education of the poor would be the destruction of the mighty fabric of society, and would leave the majority to gather their principles of honesty and honour from the gibbet or the scaffold, from the mere pen- alties of the law inflicted on its transgressors. The idea is mon- strously absurd and ridiculous, and worthy of the inhuman and selfish soul of the enemy of the poor. What ! will a rational creature endowed with an intelligent mind and destined for the undying glory of immortality, best discharge his duties to society at large when destitute of that knowledge which should unfold before his eyes his duties, when separated and removed from all opportunities of rational improvement and educational culture ? I repeat, the idea is monstrous and outrageously ridiculous. It never could be the intention of Providence that such should be the case, that the poor, the labouring poor, the chosen of his capacious and all -bountiful heart, should be debarred of the nourishment necessary for their strength, and I may add, social comfort and duties, No ; let not such he imagined for an instant, for it is but imputing to his Divine wisdom and fatherly kind- ness, a will and desire as monstrous as they are unjust. The Almighty wishes his blessings (and surely one of his greatest blessings is a good and religious education) to be expended on all equally, and yet in a suitable form. Do not, therefore, hesi- tate to aid in the great work of the education of the children of the poor, and by doing so, you prepare and adorn heirs for the kingdom of heaven, and procure for yourselves a throne of glory in that region of the blessed, where you shall sing eternal alleluias in sight of your all-merciful and omnipotent Saviour and Ke- deemer. A blessing I wish you all, in the name of the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen. A SERMON ON REPENTANCE . “ Jesus saith to him : Go thy way, thy son liveth.” — St. John, iv, 50. Amongst the many prodigies which our Divine Lord and Master Jesus Christ performed during his journeys through Judea and Galilee, signal, indeed, and pregnant with mysterious instruction, is the one recorded on the sacred page of this day’s Gospel. A certain nobleman, or ruler, of Capharnaum had his dearly- beloved son reduced to the last stage of existence by a long and painful sickness. The tender father, overwhelmed with grief and sadness, spends his melancholy hours in viewing his darling child faintly struggling w T ith death, in all the agonies of a burning fever. 129 The distressed and sorrowing parent frequently waters the bed of sickness with his fond tears. He bitterly laments that he was ever born to the light, and sends forth his complaints to Heaven in the feeble but expressive accents of excruciating despair. “ Oh !” says he,