St. Alphonsus de Ligouri

Mothers of History
Donna Anna de’ Liguori, Mother of St Alphonsus
By Rev. Fr J.T. Moran, C.SS.R.

Of all the biographers of St Alphonsus de’ Liguori, the first, and the most competent to speak, was Father Tannoia, the Saint’s contemporary and confrere.

It is from Fr Tannoia that we learn some intimate details of Donna Anna Cavalieri, the Neapolitan noblewoman who became the mother of a saint.

In his biography, Fr Tannoia introduces Donna Anna by saying that she was venerated by all who knew her in Naples for her spirit of prayer, her many penances, her detachment from worldly amusements, and, above all, her love for the poor. He gives us, too, a perfect picture of Donna Anna, the mother, by recording her relation to her children:

“I was privileged to know this noble lady and to speak with her. Her memory, as I look back now, calls up before me the image of the great Queen Blanche of Castile. I learned from Don Cajetan, the brother of Alphonsus, that every morning the good mother after blessing her children had them kneel down and say their prayers. Every evening she would gather them around her and teach them the truths of Faith with her own lips. She would always say the Rosary with them and taught them exercises of devotion to many saints. She was watchful of their companionships and would not let them mix freely with children of their own age, preferring to forestall sin by sanctifying grace rather than run any risk of their falling. She taught them to hate sin by every means in her power. For this reason, she took them to confession each week to her own spiritual director and kinsman, Fr Pagano.”

Alphonsus himself, in later life gave ample testimony to the goodness of his mother. “I must confess,” he said, “that if I was good at all during my childhood, if I was preserved from evil, I owe it entirely to my mother’s care. Most of the time my father was away at sea and could not devote himself, as he might wish, to the education and training of his children. Thus the whole burden fell on my mother.”

Donna Anna Cavalieri was the wife of Don Joseph de’ Liguori, a distinguished nobleman and captain of one of the royal galleys. She was the mother of eight children of whom Alphonsus, the eldest, was to become priest, bishop, founder of the Redemptorist Congregation and Doctor of the Church.

If it is true that opposites attract opposites, we have an illustration in the characters of Don Joseph and Donna Anna. Their temperaments were diametrically opposed. Don Joseph was choleric and severe, and, by his naval training, a strict disciplinarian. A product of his age, he saw nothing contrary to his religious principles in fostering great worldly ambitions for his first-born son.

In contrast to Don Joseph, Anna’s one ambition was that the children should all do the Holy Will of God. The effect of her influence and early training on the children is seen from the subsequent history of the members of the family.
Of her eight children, Magdalene died in infancy; Antonio became a Benedictine monk at Monte Cassino; Cajetan was a diocesan priest, known for his holiness; Hercules married, and the affection of Alphonsus for his brother and his children shows the strength of the family ties. Of the girls, Mary Louise and Mary Anna entered the Convent. Teresa married the Duke of Presengano. The life of each one of them paid some tribute to the sterling character and qualities of their mother.

But when Alphonsus became a brilliant lawyer, her dream seemed to fade. When God did call Alphonsus to the priesthood, Don Joseph strenuously resisted his son’s vocation. Anna sought the advice of her kinsman, Bishop Cavalieri. He counselled a continuance of her wise silence. Finally, Don Joseph requested the bishop to dissuade Alphonsus from giving up his brilliant legal career. The bishop’s answer sounded the death knell to Don Joseph’s ambition. “I myself renounced my right as eldest son in order to save my soul. Would you have me advise your son to do the opposite at the risk of losing my soul with his?”
Time, God’s great healer, and Donna Anna’s evident joy softened the blow of Don Joseph’s disappointment. In the evening of his life he bitterly regretted his opposition to his son’s vocation.

Anna lived to see her dreams realised. Alphonsus was ordained in 1726. He founded the Redemptorists in 1732. Her long life of 85 years came to a close in 1755, seven years before Alphonsus was consecrated bishop.

Alphonsus was at her side to bring her comfort in her last days, but was forced to leave two days before her death. He went on God’s work, as so often before, with Donna Anna’s blessing ringing in his ears.

With the example she had given him in life and in death fresh in his mind, the Saint wrote these words in the beautiful treatise on Conformity to the Will of God which he produced that year:

“Those who love God are always happy, because their whole happiness is to fulfil, even in adversity, the Will of God. Afflictions do not mar their serenity, because by accepting misfortune, they know they give pleasure to their beloved Lord […] Indeed, what can be more satisfactory to a person than to experience the fulfilment of all his desires? This is the happy lot of the man who wills only what God wills, because everything that happens, save sin, happens through the Will of God. […] This is the beautiful freedom of the sons of God, and it is worth vastly more than all the rank and distinction of blood and birth, more than all the kingdoms in the world.”

From his parents he had indeed inherited wealth, talents, “rank and distinction”, but it was for the spiritual legacy of Donna Anna’s conformity to the Divine Will, that precious key to happiness in this world and the next, that St Alphonsus had most cause be grateful to his mother. †

By worldlings they only are esteemed happy who enjoy the pleasures, the riches, and the pomps of this world; but death puts an end to all these earthly goods. For what is your life? It is a vapour which appeareth for a little while James IV, 15]. The vapours exhaled from the earth, when raised in the air and clothed with light by the sun, make a splendid appearance; but how long does their splendour last? It vanishes before the first blast of the wind. Behold that nobleman: today he is courted, feared, and almost adored; tomorrow he is dead, despised, reviled and trampled upon. At death we must leave all things. The brother of that great servant of God, Thomas a Kempis, took delight in speaking of a beautiful house which he had built for himself: a friend told him that it had one great defect. "What is it?" said he. "It is," answered the other, "that you have made a door in it." "What," rejoined the brother of a Kempis, "is a door a defect?" "Yes," answered the friend; "for through this door you must be one day carried dead, and must leave the house and all things." Death, in fine, strips man of all the goods of this world. Oh, what a spectacle to behold an prince banished from his palace, never more to return to it, and to see others take possession of his furniture, of his money, and of all his other goods! The servants leave him in the grave, with a garment scarcely sufficient to cover his body. There is no longer anyone to esteem or flatter him, no longer any one to attend to his commands. Saladin, who had acquired many kingdoms in Asia, gave directions at death, that when his body should be carried to the place of burial a person should go before, holding his winding-sheet suspended from a pole, and crying aloud: "This is all that Saladin brings with him to the grave."

When the body of the prince is laid in the grave, his flesh drops off; and behold, his skeleton can no longer be distinguished from others. "Contemplate", St Basil says, "the sepulchres of the dead, and see if you can distinguish who has been a servant, and who has been a master." Diogenes was one day seen by Alexander the Great seeking with great anxiety for something among the bones of the dead. Alexander asked him what he was in search of. "I am looking", replied Diogenes, "for the head of Philip your father. I am not able to distinguish it: if you can find it, show it to me." "Men," says Seneca, "are born unequal; but after death all are equal." And Horace says that death brings down the sceptre to the level of the spade. In a word, when death comes, the end comes; all ends, we leave all things; and of all that we possess in this world, we bring nothing to the grave. My Lord! since Thou givest me light to know that whatever the world esteems is smoke and folly, grant me strength to detach my heart from earthly goods, before death separates me from them. Miserable that I have been! How often, for the miserable pleasures and goods of this earth, have I offended and lost Thee, Who art an infinite good! O my Jesus! My Heavenly Physician, cast Thine eyes on my poor soul, look at the many wounds which I have inflicted on it by my sins, and have pity on me. If Thou wishest, Thou canst make me clean. I know that Thou art able and willing to heal me; but in order to heal me, Thou wishest me to repent of the injuries which I have committed against Thee. I am sorry for them from the bottom of my heart. Heal me, then, now that it is in Thy power to heal me. Heal my soul, for I have sinned against Thee. I have forgotten Thee; but Thou hast not forgotten me; and now Thou makest me feel that Thou wilt even forget the injuries I have done Thee, if I detest them. "But if the wicked do penance [...] I will not remember all his iniquities" [Ezekiel, XVIII, 21]. Behold, I detest my sins. I hate them above all things. Forget, then O my Redeemer, all the displeasures I have given Thee. For the future I will lose all things, even life, rather than forfeit Thy grace. And what can all the goods of this earth profit me without Thy grace?

Ah, assist me! Thou knowest my weakness. Hell will not cease to tempt me: it already prepares a thousand attacks to make me again its slave. No, my Jesus, do not abandon me. I wish to be henceforth the slave of Thy love. Thou art my only Lord; Thou hast created and redeemed me; Thou hast loved me more than all others; Thou alone hast merited my love; Thee alone do I wish to love. †

My brother, in this picture of death behold yourself and what you must one day become. “Remember that dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return”. Consider that in a few years, and perhaps in a few months or days, you will become rottenness and worms. By this thought Job became a saint. “I have said to rottenness: Thou art my father: to worms, my mother, and my sister.”

All must end; and if, after death, you lose your soul, all will be lost for you. Consider yourself already dead, says St Laurence Justinian, since you know that you must necessarily die. If you were already dead, what would you not desire to have done? Now that you have life, reflect that you will one day be among the dead. St Bonaventure says that to guide the vessel safely, the pilot must remain at the helm; and in like manner, to lead a good life, a man should always imagine himself at the hour of death. “Look to the sins of your youth, and be covered with shame,” says St Bernard. “Remember the sins of manhood and weep.” Look to the present disorders of your life; tremble, and hasten to apply a remedy.

When St Camillus de Lellis saw the graves of the dead, he said within himself: If these return to life, what would they not do for eternal glory? And what do I do for my soul, I who have time? This the Saint said through humility. But my brother, you, perhaps, have reason to fear that you are the fruitless fig-tree of which the Lord said: “Behold, for these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig-tree, and I find none.” You have been in this world for more than three years; what fruit have you produced? Remember, says St Bernard, that the Lord seeks not only flowers, but fruits; that is, not only good desires and resolutions, but also holy works. Learn then to profit of the time which God in his mercy gives you; do not wait until you desire time to do good, when time shall be no more. Do not wait till you are told, Time shall be no longer; depart; the time for leaving this world has arrived; what is done, is done.

Behold me, O my God! I am that tree which deserved for so many years to hear from Thee, “Cut it down - why cumbereth it the ground?” Yes, for so many years during which I have been in the world, I have brought forth no other fruit than the briers and thorns of sin. But, O Lord! Thou dost not wish that I despair. Thou hast said to all, that he who seeks Thee shall find Thee. “Seek and you shall find.” I seek Thee, Oh my God! And wish for Thy grace. For all the offences I have offered to Thee I am sorry with my whole heart; I would wish to die of sorrow for them. Hitherto I have fled from Thee; but now I prefer Thy friendship to the possession of all the kingdoms of the earth. I will no longer resist Thy invitations. Dost Thou wish me to be all Thine? I give Thee my whole being without reserve. Thou gavest Thyself entirely to me on the Cross. I give myself entirely to Thee.
Thou hast said: “If you shall ask me anything in my name, that I will do.” My Jesus, trusting in this great promise, I ask, in Thy name and through Thy merits, Thy grace and Thy love. Grant that Thy grace and Thy holy love may abound in my soul, in which sin has abounded. I thank Thee for having given me grace to make this petition by inspiring the prayer, Thou showest that Thou dost intend to hear it. Hear me, O my Jesus; give me a great love for Thee; give me a great desire to please Thee, and give me strength to do Thy will. O Mary, my great advocate! Do thou also listen to my cry, and pray to Jesus for me.

An Eternal Truth
Portrait Of A Man Who Has Recently Passed Into The Other World

Consider that you are dust, and to dust you will return. The day will come when you will die and rot in a place where worms shall be thy covering. (Is 14:11) The same fate awaits all, high and low, the prince and the peasant. As soon as the soul will have left the body, with the last gasp it will go into eternity and the body will return to dust. Thou shalt take away their breath and they shall return to their dust. (Ps 103:29) Picture to yourself a person who has recently expired. Behold that corpse lying on the bed, the head fallen on the chest, the hair disordered and bathed in the sweat of death, the eyes sunken, the cheeks hollow, the face of an ashy hue, the tongue and the lips the colour of lead, the body cold and heavy. The beholders grow pale and tremble. How many at the sight of a deceased parent or friend have changed their life and left the world! But still more horrible is it when the body begins to decay. Twenty-four hours have not elapsed since the death of that youth, and an offensive odour is already perceptible. The windows must be opened, and incense must be burnt, and haste be made to transfer the body to the church and to bury it, that the whole house may not be infected. “And if,” says an author, “that body has belonged to one of the great or the rich ones of the earth, it will only send forth a more intolerable stench.”

Behold to what that proud, that voluptuous man is come! The favourite, the desired one of society, now become the horror and the abomination of all who behold him. His relations hasten to remove him from the house, and people are hired to bear him away, that, enclosed in a coffin, they may cast him into a grave.

Formerly he was renowned for his talents, his elegance, his graceful manners, and his wit; but no sooner is he dead than he is forgotten. Their memory hath perished with a noise. (Ps 9:7) On hearing the news of his death, some say that he was an honour to his family; others, he has provided well for his family; others grieve because the departed had done them some service; some rejoice because his death brings some advantage to them. However, in a short time no one will name him any more; and even from the very first his dearest friends will not hear him mentioned, that their grief may not be renewed. In the visits of condolence other things are talked of; and if anyone should chance to allude to the departed, the relations exclaim, “For mercy’s sake, never name him to me!”

Consider that, as you have done at the death of your friends and relations, so others will do by you. The living appear upon the stage to occupy the wealth and the places of the dead, and of the dead little or no esteem or mention is any more made. At first the relations are afflicted for some days; but they quickly console themselves with that share of property which falls to them, so that in a short time they will rejoice at your death, and in that very room where you have breathed forth your soul, and have been judged by Jesus Christ, they will dance, eat, play and laugh as before. And your soul, where will it then be?

O Jesus, my Redeemer, I return Thee thanks for not having taken me out of this life whilst I was Thy enemy. How many years have passed since I deserved to be in hell! Had I died on such a day, or on such a night, what would have become of me for all eternity? My God, I return Thee thanks. I accept of death as a satisfaction or my sins, and I accept of it the manner in which it may please Thee to send it to me; but since Thou hast waited for me until now, oh, wait for me yet a little longer. Suffer me, therefore, that I may lament my sorrow a little. (Job 10:20) Give me time to weep over my offences against Thee, before Thou comest to judge me.

I will no longer resist Thy calls. Who knows but these words which I have just read are Thy last call to me? I acknowledge that I do not deserve mercy: Thou hast pardoned me so often, and I have again ungratefully offended Thee. A contrite and humble heart, O God, Thou wilt not despite. (Ps 4:19) Ah, Lord, since Thou canst not despise a humble and penitent heart, behold the traitor who, humbled and repentant, has recourse to Thee. Cast me not away from Thy face. (Ps 50:13) Thou hast said, Him that cometh to Me I will not cast out. (Jn 6:37) It is true that I have offended Thee more than others, because I have been favoured more than others with light and grace; but the Blood Thou hast shed for me gives me courage, and proffers pardon to me if I repent. Yes, O my Sovereign Good, I do repent with my whole soul for having insulted Thee. Pardon me, and give me grace to love Thee for the future. I have long enough offended Thee. As for the remainder of my life, no, my Jesus, I will not spend it in offending Thee; I will spend it wholly in weeping over the displeasure I have given Thee, and in loving Thee with all my heart, O God, worthy of infinite love. O Mary, my hope, pray to Jesus for me.†

At the hour of death, Philip II, King of Spain, called his son, and throwing off his royal robe, uncovered his breast, which had been eaten away by worms, and said to him: “Prince, behold how we die! See how all the grandeur of this world ends!” Theodoret has truly said that death fears not riches, nor satellites, nor sovereigns; and that from princes as well as vassals rottenness and corruption flow.

Thus the dead, though they be princes, bring nothing with them to the grave: all their glory remains on the bed on which they expire. “When he shall die, he shall take nothing away, nor shall his glory descend with him” [Psalm XLVIII, 18].
St Antoninus relates that after the death of Alexander the Great a certain philosopher exclaimed: “Behold! The man who yesterday trampled on the earth is now buried in the earth. Yesterday the whole earth was not sufficient for him, and now he is content with seven palms. Yesterday he led his armies through the earth, and now he is carried by a few porters to the grave!” But it is better to listen to the words of God. “Why”, says the Holy Ghost, “is earth and ashes proud?” [Ecclesiasticus X, 9] O man! Do you not see that you are dust and ashes? Why are you proud? Why do you spend so many thoughts and so many years of life in seeking worldly greatness? Death will come; and then all your greatness and all your projects will be at an end. “In that day”, says David, “all their thoughts shall perish” [Psalm CXLV, 4].

Oh! How much more happy was the death of St Paul the Hermit, who lived sixty years shut up in a cave, than the death of Nero the Emperor of Rome! How much more happy was the death of St Felix, a Capuchin lay-brother, than that of Henry VIII, who lived in the midst of royal magnificence, but at the same time at enmity with God! But we must remember that to secure a happy death the saints have abandoned all things; they have left their country; they have renounced the delights and the hopes which the world held out to them, and have embraced a life of poverty and contempt.

But how can worldlings, living in the midst of sins, in the midst of earthly pleasures and dangerous occasions, expect a happy death? God warns sinners that at death they shall seek and shall not find him [John VII, 34]. He tells us that the hour of death shall be the time, not of mercy, but of vengeance. “I will repay them in due time” [Deuteronomy XXXII, 35]. Reason tells us the same; for, at death, men of the world shall find their understanding weak and darkened, and their heart hardened by the bad habits which they have contracted. Their temptations will then be more violent; how can they resist at death who were almost always accustomed to yield to temptations during life, and to be conquered by them? To change their heart a most powerful grace would be then necessary. But is God obliged to give them such a grace? Have they merited such a grace by the scandalous and disorderly life which they have led? And on that last hour depends their happiness or misery for eternity. How is it possible that he who reflects on this, and believes the truths of faith, does not leave all to give himself to God, who will judge us all according to our works?

Ah, Lord! how many nights have I slept in enmity with Thee? O God! In what a miserable state was my soul during that time. It was hated by Thee. I was condemned to hell: there was nothing wanting but the execution of the sentence. But Thou, my God, hast never ceased to seek after me, and to invite me to pardon. But, who can assure me that Thou hast pardoned me? Must I, O my Jesus, live in this uncertainty till Thou judgest me? But the sorrow which I feel for having offended Thee, my desire to love Thee, and still more Thy Passion, O my beloved Redeemer, make me hope that Thy grace dwells in my soul. I am sorry for having offended Thee, O Sovereign Good, and I love Thee above all things. I resolve to forfeit everything rather than lose Thy grace and Thy love. Thou wishest that the heart which seeks Thee should be full of joy. “Let the heart of them rejoice that seek the Lord” [I Chronicles XVI, 10]. Lord, I detest all injuries I have offered to Thee. Give me courage and confidence. Give me Thy love; I ask nothing else. O Mary, thou, after Jesus, art my hope; obtain for me holy perseverance. †

Awake from the dream!
Let us hasten to give ourselves to God

David calls the happiness of this life a dream of one who awakes from sleep [Ps. LXXII, 20]. In explaining these words, a certain author explains that the goods of this world appear great, but they are nothing: like a dream, which lasts but a little, and afterwards vanishes, they are enjoyed but a short time. The thought that with death all ends made St Francis Borgia resolve to give himself entirely to God. The Saint was obliged to accompany the dead body of the Empress Isabella to Granada. When the coffin was opened, her appearance was so horrible and the smell so intolerable that all ran away. But St Francis remained to contemplate the dead body of his sovereign and the vanity of the world, and looking at it, he exclaimed: “Are you then my empress? Are you the queen before whom so many bent their knee in reverential awe? O Isabella, where is your majesty, your beauty gone? Thus then,” he said within himself, “end the greatness and the crowns of this world. I will, therefore, henceforth serve a Master who can never die.” From that moment he consecrated himself to the love of Jesus crucified; and he made a vow to become a religious, should his wife die before him. This vow he afterwards fulfilled by entering into the Society of Jesus.

Justly then has a person who was undeceived written on a skull these words: Cogitanti vilescunt omnia “To him who reflects on death, everything in this world appears contemptible”; he cannot love the earth. And why are there so many unhappy lovers of this world? It is because they do not think of death. “O ye sons of men, how long will you be dull of heart? Why do you love vanity, and seek after lying?” [Ps. IV, 3] Miserable children of Adam, says the Holy Ghost, why do you not chase away from your heart so many earthly affections, which make you love vanity and lies? What has happened to your forefathers must befall you. They have dwelt in the same palace which you inhabit, and have slept in your very bed; but now they are no more. Such, too, will be your lot.

My brother, give yourself then to God before death comes upon you. “Whatsoever thy hand is able to do, do it earnestly” [Eccles. IX, 10]. What you can do today, defer not till tomorrow; for a day once passed never returns, and tomorrow death may come, and prevent you from ever being able to do good. Detach yourself instantly from everything which removes, or can remove, you from God. Let us instantly renounce in affection the goods of this earth, before death strips us of them by force. “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord” [Apoc. XIV, 13]. Happy they who at death are already dead to all attachment to this world. They fear not, but desire death, and embrace it with joy; for, instead of separating them from the good which they love, it unites them to the Supreme Good, Who is the sole object of their affections, and Who will render them happy for eternity.

My dear Redeemer, I thank Thee for having waited for me. What should have become of me had I died when I was at a distance from Thee? May Thy mercy and patience, which I have experienced for so many years, be forever blessed! I thank Thee for the light and grace with which Thou dost now assist me. I did not then love Thee, and I cared but little to be loved by Thee. I now love Thee with my whole heart, and nothing grieves me so much as the thought of having displeased so good a God. This sorrow tortures my soul; but it is a sweet torment, because it gives me confidence that Thou hast already pardoned me. O my sweet Saviour, would that I had died a thousand times before I sinned against Thee! I tremble lest I should hereafter offend Thee again. Ah! Make me die the most painful of all deaths, rather than permit me evermore to lose Thy grace. I have been once the slave of hell; but now I am Thy servant, O God of my soul. Thou hast said that Thou lovest those who love Thee [Prov. VIII, 17]. I love Thee: then I am Thine, and Thou art mine. I may lose Thee at some future time; but the grace which I ask to Thee is, to take me out of life rather than suffer me ever to lose Thee again. Unasked, Thou hast bestowed upon me so many graces; I cannot now fear that Thou wilt not hear my prayer for the grace which I now implore. Do not permit me ever to lose Thee. Give me Thy love, and I desire nothing more. Mary, my hope! Intercede for me. †

Life is short Death comes quickly

What is your life? It is like vapour, which is dissipated by a blast of wind, and is seen no more. All know that they must die; but the delusion of many is that they imagine death as far off as if it were never to arrive. But Job tells us that the life of man is short: “Man born of a woman, living for a short time, [...] who cometh forth like a flower, and is destroyed” [Job XIV, 1]. This truth the Lord commanded Isaias to preach to the people. “Cry [...] All flesh is grass [...] Indeed, the people is grass. The grass is withered, and the flower is fallen” [Is. XL, 6]. The life of man is like the life of a blade of grass; death comes, the grass is dried up: behold, life ends, and the flower of all greatness and of all worldly goods falls off.

“My days”, says Job, “have been swifter than a post” [IX, 25]. Death runs to meet us more swiftly than a post, and we at every moment run towards death. Every step, every breath brings us nearer to our end. “What I write,” says Jerome, “is so much taken away from life.” “During the time I write, I draw near to death.” “We all die, and, like the waters that return no more, we fall into the earth” [II Kings XIV, 14]. Behold how the stream flows to the sea, and the passing waters never return! Thus, my brother, your days pass by, and you approach death. Pleasures, amusements, pomps, praises, and acclamations pass away; and what remains? “Only the grave remaineth for me” [Job XVII, 1]. We shall be thrown into a grave, and there we shall remain to rot, stripped of all things. At the hour of death the remembrance of the delights enjoyed, and of all the honours acquired in this life, will serve only to increase our pain and our lack of confidence of obtaining eternal salvation. Then the miserable worldling will say: “My house, my gardens, my fashionable furniture, my pictures, my garments, will in a little time be no longer mine, and only the grave remains for me.”

Ah! At that hour all earthly goods are viewed only with pain by those who have had an attachment for them. And this pain will serve only to increase the danger of their eternal salvation; for we see by experience, that persons attached to the world wish at death to speak only of their sickness, of the physicians to be called to attend them, and of the remedies which may restore their health. When any one speaks of the state of the soul, they soon grow weary, and beg to be allowed to repose. They complain of headache, and say that it pains them to hear any one speak. And if they sometimes answer, they are confused, and know not what to say. It often happens that the confessor gives them absolution, not because he knows that they are disposed for the sacrament, but because it is dangerous to defer it. Such is the death of those who think but little of death.

Ah, my God and Lord of infinite majesty! I am ashamed to appear before Thee. How often have I dishonoured Thee by preferring to Thy grace a sordid pleasure, a little dust, the indulgence of anger, caprice, or vanity! I adore and kiss, O my Redeemer, Thy holy wounds, which I have inflicted by my sins; but through these wounds I hope for pardon and salvation. Make me, O my Jesus, understand the great injury I have done Thee in leaving Thee, the fountain of every good, to drink putrid and poisoned waters! Of all the offences I have given Thee nothing now remains but pain, remorse of conscience, and fruits for hell. “Father, I am not worthy to be called Thy child” [Luke XV, 21]. My Father! Do not cast me off. It is true that I no longer merit the grace which would make me Thy child; but Thou hast died to pardon me. Thou hast said: “Turn ye to me, and I will turn to you” [Zach. I, 3]. I give up all that gratifies me, I renounce all the pleasures that the world can give me, and I turn to Thee. Pardon me for the sake of the Blood which has been shed for me; I repent with my whole heart of all the insults I have offered to Thee. I repent, and I love Thee above all things. I am not worthy to love Thee; but Thou dost not refuse the love of a heart that has once despised Thee. Thou didst purposely abstain from taking me out of life when I was in sin, that I might love Thee. I wish to love Thee during the remainder of my life, and I wish to love nothing but Thee. Assist me; give me holy perseverance, and Thy holy love. Mary, my refuge! Recommend me to Jesus Christ. †

One Fatal Moment Eternity depends on it!

How great is the folly of those who, for the miserable and transitory delights of this short life, expose themselves to the danger of an unhappy death, and, afterwards, of an unhappy eternity. Oh! How important is that last moment, that last gasp, the last closing of the scene! On it depends an eternity either of all delights or of all torments - a life of eternal happiness or of everlasting woe. Let us consider that Jesus Christ submitted to a cruel and ignominious death in order to obtain for us the grace of a good death. That we may at that last moment die in the grace of God, is the reason why He gives us so many calls and so many lights, and admonishes us by so many threats.

Antisthenes, though a pagan, being asked what was the greatest blessing which man could receive in this world, answered, “a good death”. And what will a Christian say, who knows by faith that at the moment of death eternity begins, and that at that moment he lays hold of one of two wheels, which draws with it either eternal joy or everlasting torments? If there were two tickets in a lottery, on one of which might be written Hell and on the other Heaven, what care would you not take to draw that which would give you a right to Paradise, and to avoid the other, by which you would win a place in Hell! O God! How the hands of those unhappy men tremble who are condemned to throw the die on which their life or death depends! How great will be your terror at the approach of that last hour, when you will say: “On this moment depends my life or death for eternity; on this depends whether I shall be forever happy or forever in despair!” St Bernardine of Siena relates that at death a certain prince exclaimed with trembling and dismay: “Behold I have so many kingdoms and palaces in this world; but if I die this night I know not what apartment shall be assigned to me!”

Brother, if you believe that you must die, that there is an eternity, that you can die only once and that if you then err your error will be forever irreparable, why do you not resolve to begin at this moment to do all in your power to secure a good death? St Andrew Avellino said with trembling: “Who knows what will be my lot in the next life? Shall I be saved or damned?”

The thought of the uncertainty of being damned or saved filled St Louis Bertrand with so much terror that he could not sleep at night because of this thought which would suggest itself to him: “Who knows whether thou wilt be lost?” And will not you, who have committed so many sins, tremble? Oh! Hasten to apply a remedy in time; resolve to give yourself sincerely to God, and begin from this moment a life which, at the hour of death, will be to you a source, not of affliction, but of consolation. Give yourself eternal salvation, and be persuaded that to secure eternal life no precaution can be too great.

O Eternal Father, I abhor and detest, above all evils, the injuries I have done Thee. Have mercy on me for the sake of Jesus Christ. Look at Thy Son dead on the cross. May His Blood flow upon me, and wash my soul! O King of my heart, Thy kingdom come!

I am resolved to banish every affection which is not for Thee. I love Thee above all things; come and reign in my soul with undivided sway. Grant that I may love Thee, and love nothing but Thee. I desire to please Thee to the utmost of my ability, and to do Thy Will in all things during the remainder of my life. Bless, O my Father, this my desire, and grant me the grace to keep myself always united to Thee. All my affections I consecrate to Thee, and from this day forward I wish to belong to Thee alone, my treasure, my peace, my hope, my love, my all. I hope for all graces through the merits of Thy Son. Mary, my queen and mother, assist me by thy intercession. Mother of God! Pray for me.†