Consider well, O my soul, that upon two wills depends either thy happiness or thy misery: upon the will of God, thy happiness; upon thy own will, thy misery. Consider well to which thou choosest to unite thyself, because eternal happiness and eternal misery are of too great importance to be neglected.

It is easy, O Lord, to submit to Thy will when it is pleasing and agreeable to our natures; but certainly it is no less our duty when Thou thinkest fit to try us with difficulties, and to contradict the inclinations of flesh and blood.

In all Thy sufferings, in Thy painful crucifixion and shameful death, O my dear Jesus, Thou didst entirely resign Thyself to the will of Thy Father. Shall I murmur against less sufferings, which I have so much deserved ? Shall I not quietly and patiently submit to them ?

If I do not love Thee, O my God, more than myself, I am not worthy of Thee; if I do not prefer Thy will to my own, it is much to be feared I do not love Thee: O my God, I will deny myself to be made perfect in love.

Thy will, O God, is Thy blessed self; they, therefore, who refuse to follow Thy will declare that Thou shalt not reign over them; that they desire not the knowledge of Thy ways. It is

Thee, I desire, O my God; I renounce my own will, therefore, to follow Thine.

Acts of Virtue

In relation to the Passion of our Saviour.

WHITHER has love carried Thee, O blessed Jesus, even to the painful and shameful death of the cross for my sake? O how imperfect is my love, if afflictions or crosses are able to separate me from Thee! or if I am not willing to endure the greatest torments rather than forsake Thee!

Thou wert, O Jesus, so in love with sufferings for me, that rather than come down from the cross, Thou didst choose to expire upon it. Miserable wretch that I am! how does my flesh and blood start at the very appearance of a violent death, though it might be necessary as a testimony of the truth of my affection towards Thee!

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Thy sacred head was crowned with thorns, and all Thy body ploughed with scourges, but sins and follies added sharpness to them, and pierced Thee and wounded Thee more than the thorns and scourges themselves. O how I grieve and love, when I consider my iniquities drew upon Thee all Thy sorrows;

those exquisite pains and torments in Thy body; those inexpressible fears and anguish in Thy soul!

I do for ever, O Lord, detest and abjure those sins that were Thy tormentors; I will persecute those vile lusts and affections that crucified Thee; I will fly from all appearance of evil.

Is it possible not to love Thee, O blessed Saviour, above all things, who hast delivered me from such imperious masters? Is it possible to remember that my sins occasioned all Thy grief, and ever to offend Thee more?

What does my soul long for? What is the desire of my heart? Is it possible that empty frail creatures only should rejoice and delight it, when divine love displays itself in the bleeding wounds of the suffering Jesus?

Let the fire of divine love bura bright in my soul; never will I search for any other fuel to nourish this holy flame than Thy scourges and Thy thorns, than Thy reed and Thy cross.

Thy whole life was spent in doing good; and so far from indulging the pleasures of sense, that Thou hadst not where to lay Thy head; and whoever frequents the Christian sacrifice must be convinced at what a rate Thou didst value the welfare of mankind: for Thou didst

willingly embrace all sorts of sufferings in order to accomplish it.

What folly and rashness is it, therefore, for me to be always caressing myself with sensual enjoyments; to be spending my estate in jollity, in splendour, in folly and luxury, which ought to be employed in doing good to the souls and bodies of men! How unlike is this to that example Thou hast set before me, and to that disposition of mind Thou requirest of me!

Alas, suffering can only affright those that consider themselves, and not Thee; that love themselves, and not Thee, O my crucified Jesus! Thou wert made perfect through sufferings, and can I behold and love such a blessed pattern, and not desire to suffer with Thee, and to die for Thee?

Who can fathom this abyss of divine love? I am the criminal, and Thou, O blessed Jesus, art crucified; what ought I not to have suffered, to have gained an interest in Thee? And yet what hast Thou not suffered to purchase such a wretch as I am?

I have offended Thee, and Thou reconcilest me with Thy own blood; I occasioned Thy death, and Thou givest me life. Was there ever any love like that love which my Lord and my God has shewed towards me?

When I consider Thee, O dear Jesus, what Thou art in Thyself, and what Thou art to me, I feel myself constrained to love Thee. Where shall I discover greater excellencies and perfections to raise my admiration? Where shall I find greater bounty and goodness to engage my affections?

Acts of Humility.

O MY God, Thou art the eternal source of all excellency and perfection; and I, miserable wretch! what am I? Nothing but poor dust and ashes, folly and vanity. It is reasonable, therefore, I should obey Thee, because Thou art infinitely above me; that I should submit to Thee in all things, without grudging, without murmuring, because Thou art infinite wisdom.

Blessed humility! when shall I possess thee? When shall I enjoy that tranquillity of mind, which is only found among those that love and obey thee? When shall I be adorned with that comeliness and beauty, which thou only canst bestow?

What have I, O Lord, whereof to glory? If of my body, it is nothing but vile clay moulded by Thy omnipotent hand, and must return to rottenness, and be the food of worms; if of my

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