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THE
OIT
PEKE GKOU.
I. Of The Knowledge Of God And Of Self
All holiness is contained in two points : knowledge of God, and knowledge of self. Lord, make me to know Thee, and to know myself. The prayer is short, but its meaning is infinite. Knowledge of God elevates the soul ; knowledge of self, humbles it. The former lifts it to the abyss of Divine perfections ; the latter sinks it to its own abyss of nothingness and sin. And the great marvel is, that this very knowledge of God which lifts man up, humbles him at the same time by the comparison of himseK with God ; and seK-knowledge, while it humbles him, lifts him up by necessitating his approach to God, as the assuager of his misery.
IMarvellous ladder of sanctity, whereon men descend while they ascend, and in the same proportion ! For the true elevation of man is inseparable from his true humiliation. The first without the last, is pride ; the last without the
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first, is despairing wretchedness. If self-hnowledge did not make him little in his own eyes, what would be the effect upon him of the sublimest knowledge of God ? He would be lost in the exaltation of his thoughts. Or what would avail the knowledge of his exceeding meanness and misery, if the knowledge of God did not counterbalance it? He could only fall into horrible despair. But this twofold knowledge tends to make him holy ; for holiness requires him to feel and own that he is nothing in himself, that he receives all things from God in the order of nature and of grace, and that he expects all- things from Him in the order of glory.
When I speak of the knowledge of God, I mean no abstract, ideal knowledge, such as was possessed by the disciples of Pythagoras and Plato. They lost their way in vain and barren speculations, the only effect of which was to increase their pride. The Christian’s knowledge of God is not an endless course of reasonings on His essence and perfections, like those of a mathematician on the circle and triangle. • Many philosophers and theologians, who held grand and noble ideas of the Divine Nature, were none the more virtuous or holy in consequence. But what we ought to know, is, what He has Himself revealed concerning the Blessed Trinity, and the work of each of its Persons in Creation, Kedemption, and Sanctification ; His power, providence, holiness, goodness, justice, and love ; the extent and multitude of His mercies, the marvellous economy of His gra.ce, the magnificence of His promises and rewards, the terror of His threatenings and the rigour of His chastisements; the worship He requires, the precepts He imposes, the
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S virtues He sets forth as our duty, the .motives by which He incites us to their practice ; we ought to know, in fact, what He is to us, and what He wills that we should be to Him.
This is the true and useful knowledge of God, taught in every page of Holy Scripture, and necessary for all Christians : which cannot be too deeply studied, without which none can become holy, and the substance of which is indispensably necessary to salvation. This should be the great object of reflection, meditation, and prayer for light. Let no man fancy that he can ever know enough, or enter sufficiently into so rich a subject. It is in every sense inexhaustible : the more we discover in it, the more we see there is yet to be discovered. It is an ever- deepening ocean for the navigator : an unattainable mountain height for the traveller, whose scope of vision yet increases with every upward step. The knowledge of God grows in us together with our own holiness ; both are capable of expanding infinitely ; and we must set no bounds to either.
This knowledge is not merely intellectual ; it goes straight to the heart ; touches it, penetrates, reforms, ennobles, and kindles it with the love of all virtues. He who really knows God, cannot fail to possess lively faith, firm hope, ardent love, filial fear, thorough trust, and entire submission. He finds no difficulty in avoiding evil and doing well ; he complains of no rigour in God’s law, but wonders at its mildness, and loves and embraces it in all its fulness ; he keeps the precepts, and the counsels too. He contemns earthly things, not judging them worthy of attention ; uses them as notabusing them, and, looking not at the things seen, which are temporal, passes swiftly through
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them towards the things eternal. The sweetest attractions of the world do not tempt him ; its dangers do not imperil him ; nor do its terrors alarm him. His body is on earth ; but his soul is, by thought and desire, in heaven already.
This knoAvledge is drawn from Holy Scripture, rightly studied. But many men read it without understanding, or understand the letter only, and not the spirit. The sacred writings are the source of all that God has been pleased to reveal to us of His essence and perfections, His natural and supernatural Avorks, His designs regarding man, the end He aaqIIs him to attain, and the means conducive to that end. Therein we see that God is the Beginning of all things, that He governs all, and intends all for His glory, and has done all for Himself, there being no other object possible to him. We see the plan, economy and sequence of religion ; and the close connection of the rise and fall of empires with that great subject. To sum up the Avhole in few words : in Holy Scripture, and therein alone, is to be found all that man need knoAV concerning his salvation, and that can fill his soul with fear and veneration and love of God.
This knoAvledge is to be found, besides, in the Avritings of the Saints, and in other pious books, Avhich are only expansions of Scripture, and are good in proportion as they express its meaning Avell and explain it perfectly.
It is to be found aboA^e all in immediate intercourse AAuth God, by means of prayer and meditation. They looked unto Him, and AA^ere lightened, saith the prophet. God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. His presence casts out darkness from the soul that prays. Yes. The soul is
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better instructed concerning Divine things by prayer alone, than wise men are by all their study. Many simple and unlearned persons, taught in the school of God, speak more fitly of Him, more nobly, and fluently, and fervently, than the ablest doctors who, not being men of prayer, speak and write of heavenly things in a dry and painful way, devoid of grandeur, warmth, and feeling.
But besides this knowledge, which may be called luminous, because it belongs to the mind, there is another which consists in feeling alone, and is the portion of the heart. This is something sweeter, stronger, and deeper. It is a certain sense given by God of Himself and of His Pi •esence. He seems to say to the soul : Taste and see how gracious the Lord is. The advantage of this knowledge beyond the other is, that it binds the will to God much more strongly. Here the soul acts not at all : God acts within it, and sets it aglow with a spark of His own bliss.
S. Antony knew God after this sort when he complained that the sun rose too early, and put an end to his prayer ; and so did S. Francis when he spent whole nights repeating with wonderful delight those words: “ My God, and my All.” This sense of God, this experimental knowledge, was the desire of all Saints, and the fruit of their union with Him. If God is thus to give Himself to us, we must wholly give ourselves to Him, because He bestows this great grace on none but His best beloved. When, like S. Francis, we have given up all things, when we, too, care for no one and nothing but God, then we may as truly and as earnestly say : “ My God, and my All.”
It is quite impossible to explain this sense of
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God. What is confined to the heart presents no idea to the mind, and is not to be expressed in words. How could the depth of supernatuial things be rendered by words, which are inadequate to represent mere natural affections and feelings ? But for him to call such things dreams and fancies, who knows nothing of them, is all the same as to deny the effect of natural love on the heart, because he has not felt it himself. Certainly, this sense of God lifts the soul to a greater height than any illuminative knowledge has the power of doing, and renders it capable of heroic designs and perfect sacrifices.
Self-knowledge is no less precious than the knowledge of God, nor is it less necessary to holiness. If we know ourselves, we do ourselves justice ; we think of ourselves exactly as we are ; we see ourselves as God sees us. And what does He see ? Sin and nothingness ; and no more. We have no other possessions of our own : everything else comes from God, and must be attributed to Him. If we know ourselves thus, what must be our humility, and our contempt and hatred of self?
I am absolutely nothing. I'hroughout eternity I was not, and there was no reason why I should exist, nor why I should be what I am. My existence is the simple effect of God’s Will : He bestowed it on me as it pleased Him. He preserves it : if His mighty Hand were not upholding me every moment, I should fall back into nothingness. My soul and body, the good qualities of both, everything estimable or pleasing in me, all comes from God. On that foundation, education did its work ; and, all things considered, this very education was rather a gift from
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God, than the result of my own industry and application.
Not only what I am, but what I have, what I enjoy, what surrounds me, whatever I meet with wherever I go, all comes from God, and is for my use. I am nothing : and, except God, all else is nothing. What then can I love and esteem in myself or in others ? Nothing but what God has given. Thence it follows, that in all which is, of itself, nothing, and exists only by the will of God, I must only love and esteem God and His gifts. And this is a strong foundation of humility and of contempt for self and created things.
But this is not all. I am sin, by my own will, by my abuse of my most excellent gift of liberty. What mean these words, I am sin ? In the first place : that in the depths of my nature, and even by my being brought out of nothingness, I have the wretched power of offending God, of becoming His enemy, of transgressing His law, of failing in my duty, and of falling short for ever of my true end ; and this power is so inherent in me, as a creature, that nothing can part it from me. The power of sinning has, since Adam’s fall, become a tendency, and a strong inclination, to sin. By his fault I lost the perfect equilibrium of liberty, in which I should otherwise have been created.
In the second place ; that since I have had the use of reason, I have actually sinned ; and have 1 )een guilty of a great number of offences more or less grievous. Very small is the number of those who have retained their baptismal innocence ; and as to venial sins, which are greatly harmful, they are prone to blemish even the highest sanctity.
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In the third place : that there is no sin, however enormous, that I cannot commit, if I am not always on my guard, and if God does not preserve me from it. There only needs an opportunity, a temptation, an act of unfaithfulness, to induce the most fearful train of consequences. The greatest Saints believed this of themselves ; and we shall not go wrong in believing it of ourselves, after their example.
In the fourth place : being once fallen, i am absolutely unable to rise again in my own strength, or truly to repent of my sin. If God do not open my eyes, move my will, hold out a helping hand, all is over with me ; 1 shall heap up sins, and shun amendment, and harden myself, and die in impenitence ; and I have always need to fear this terrible catastrophe, no matter what pitch of virtue I may have reached.
This is not all : my wretched inclination to evil is united to an equal distaste for all things good.
All law is irksome to me ; it seems to threaten my liberty ; every duty is unpleasant ; every act of virtue costs an eifort. Besides, I am, in myself, incapable of any supernatural work, and even of thinking of, or designing, any such. I continually need present grace, to inspire good actions, and help me in their performance.
In this state, which is that of my whole life, how can I think well of myself? of what can I boast ? and concerning what can I not be grievously ashamed and confounded ?
This is the self-knowledge imparted by faith, combined with the testimony of my own feelings and experience. The purest and healthiest of philosophies would never have taught me half so much. Man has ever been the chief object
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of tlie study and the consideration of sages. But the most glorious genius, with all its penetration and all its researches, can never learn self-knowledge; and, to my mind, that is an exceedingly humbling thing. If faith do not enlighten me, reason alone will never tell me that 1 came forth from nothing, and that God is my (.■reator ; it never told any ancient sages that truth : they were all ignorant of this primary connection between man and God, which is the foundation of all the rest. And how strangely at a loss they were, in consequence of their ignorance respecting the origin of man ! What marvellous absurdities they uttered on the subject ! Our modern infidels have done very much the same.
As concerns tendency to evil, and repugnance to good, the inherent frailty of creatui*es, the nature of sin considered with regard to God, and the necessity of grace ; the most religious philosophy had a faint glimmering on some points, and clear notions on none ; but in most respects it was involved in thick darkness.
Then what did it know about the matter? What no one can ignore : the troubles of life, the weakness of childhood, the infirmity of age, the natural defects of body and mind, the passions, and their tyranny and disorder, the necessity of death, and, together with that, the uncertainty of a future state. This was a wretched, miserable sort of knowledge, and made most philosophers bitterly revile nature, and accuse her of treating us like an unjust stepmother. They were right enough, according to their lights ; and the destiny of man must have appeared the more deplorable to them, because
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they could find no remedy for his troubles, cither in their own vain systems, or in the false religion of the people.
Yet they were rather offended than humbled by this knowledge, painful as it was ; because it really was too imperfect, and, though it could not fathom the depths of our misery, offered no counterpoise to that portion which it did perceive.
It is otherwise with our holy faith. Our religion makes man little in his own eyes, deeply humbles him, reduces him to nothingness, and less than nothingness, but at the same time supports and comforts him, and rouses hope, and shows him what great cause he has to trust in God. And indeed it also gives him a high, idea of himself, for it unveils his true greatness, the nobleness of his faculties, his close connection with God, the sublimity of his destiny, the fatherly care of Providence, the inestimable benefit of redemption, and the price paid for his soul by God Incarnate. It even teaches him to reverence his body, as the temple of God, intended one day in glorious resurrection to share the eternal happiness of the soul.
This is the knowledge religion gives us concerning human nature ; and this light is safe, for it is'founded on infrangible revelation ; it is bright and piercing, and perpetually increased by study and the practice of piety ; it crushes down human pride, and elevates the soul with a Divine uplifting.
But, in addition to the motives for humility furnished by study of the Gospel, and practice of its precepts, God has many and many another way of humiDling those whom He intends to
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attain a high pitch of holiness. He makes them feel that their light is darkness, and their will weakness ; that their firmest resolutions are utterly frail, and that they are unable of themselves to amend the smallest fault or perform the slightest act of virtue. He allows them to feel great repugnance for their duties ; their pious exercises are painful, and almost intolerable, because they are full of dryness, listlcssness, and weariness ; the passions they fancied were dead rise up again, and cause them strange conflicts ; the devil tempts them in countless ways, and they seem given up to the wickedness and corruption of their own hearts ; so that they see in themselves nothing but sin and great desire to sin. In the light of His infinite holiness He shows them the impurity of their motives and the selfishness of their aims, the stain of self-love on their good actions and its poison in their virtues. He calls to remembrance all their negligence, and cowardice, and faithlessness, and self-seeking, and desire of approbation and human respect ; He brings them to hate and despise themselves for their ungrateful abuse of all His many graces.
For their yet greater self-abasement He appears to turn Flis face from them, and dejDiives them of all sensible gifts and graces, leaving them in miserable nakedness, from the sight of which they shrink, yet cannot close their eyes. He seems to be angry with them and to forsake them ; and, on the other hand. He allows men to suspect their piety, to call it hypocrisy, to vex them with calumny and persecution ; and this He suffers to happen not only on the part of wicked men and ordinary Christians, but also
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on that of virtuous persons of good understanding and exemplary life, who, while they decry and ill-treat these servants of God, fancy that they are honouring the Master. Christ Jesus, the Saint of saints, willed to bear all these miseries and contumelies, and greater yet than these ; because He made Himself the Yictim for sin : and upon His own beloved friends He bestows a precious draught from the same bitter cup. Thus, perfecting humility. He perfects sanctity, and sets them in a safe hiding-place against all temjDtation.
Then let us ascend and descend by this wondrous ladder of the knowledge of God and ourselves. We will mount as high and go down as low as, by the help of grace, we can ; and when we have done all we can, we will pray that God may raise and abase us yet more, by means known only to Himself.
The more a soul really ascends, the less it is conscious of its ascent ; and the further it descends the less it apprehends its descent. This seems a paradox ; but it is most true. Advance in the knowledge of God increases the sense of unworthiness in the soul’s feelings towards Him. In like manner, the deeper it sinks in self-knowledge, the more it is led to judge that it does not hate and despise itself enough. Thus it becomes exalted and humble, or, in other words, is an unconscious saint.
SECOND MAXOL
Htdti to ^oD, anD toe no toiH liiit
^'•Into Thy hands 1 commend my spiritd'^
II. Of Christian Liberty, And Of The Active And Passive Way
In order to the better comprehension of what I have now to say, I think best to lay down, in the first place, certain incontrovertible principles.
At our creation God bestowed on us reason and understanding, in order that we might know and love Him; He purposed that we should eternally enjoy this love and knowledge, and also that such enjoyment should be our reward ; therefore it became necessary that it should be deserved. To this end he placed us on earth for a certain space of time, known only to HimseK. He gifted us wdth liberty; that is, with command over our actions, in order that, being performed by our own will, they might merit praise or blame, reward or punishment. Praise and reward are thus attached to the free fulfilment of the duties imposed on us by God ; and blame and punishment follow the wilful violation of those duties.
Liberty, in its abstract, hath no essential power of doing good or ill ; else God, who possesses supreme liberty, would not be free, because He can never will, or do, evil. Therefore our power of doing wrong does not proceed from our liberty, but from two other causes. The
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first of these is, that being necessarily dependent on God by a moral dependence, our actions ought to follow the rule of His will ; so that they are morally good if they conform to it, and morally bad if they do not. The second is, that being defective in our very nature, it is possible that our conduct may swerve from this rule. From these two causes, combined with the free-will which simply makes us masters of our actions, arises that fatal power of sinning which it would be unjust and blasphemous to accuse God of having given us. It did indeed depend on Him to prevent its effect, but no reason obliged Him to do so ; and His supreme wisdom judged fitter to permit that consequence, because it could not be prejudicial to His glory. Unquestionably, the most perfect liberty is that possessed by God, Who can will nothing but what is right. Therefore, the more our liberty resembles His, the nearer it approaches perfection ; and the more unlike it is, the more imperfect it becomes. The will to sin is a defect and abuse of liberty, and the stronger and more habitual the will the greater the defect.
It is quite evident that we ought to desire never to abuse our liberty, but by our love of right and hatred of wrong, to bring it into the closest similarity wuth that of God. The greater our moral necessity of doing right, the more we sliall be free like Him who hath \hh necessity in His nature; the greater our moral necessity of ^oing ill, the more our liberty will be fettered. dTerefore S. Paul says that when the will yields to evil it becomes the servant of sin ; and, on the other hand, that being free from sin, it is the servant of righteousness. Two opposite condi-
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tions : the first debases liberty; the second exalts and perfects it ; for God Hmiself is, if we may so speak, the Servant of Kighteousoess, and infinitely more so than we can be, and in this servitude consists His perfect liberty. Thus also Christ said to the Jews : ‘‘ He that committeth sin is the servant of sin and, ‘‘ If the Son, therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.”
But grace alone can deliver us from the bondage of sin, and give us real liberty ; whence it follows that the more our wills subject themselves to grace, and the more they endeavour to dej)end fully and constantly upon it, the freer they will become. Their perfect deliverance is reserved for heaven, where they will once for all be established in holiness. But in this world, however thoroughly they may have submitted themselves to the dominion of grace, they are always liable to throw off the yoke, and must always be on their guard against that risk.
That risk will be the more or less imminent, according as the soul continues to be its own master, or gives itself freely up to be dealt with according as God wills. And so, all it has to do is to lay itself in His hands, to use its activity only in order to become more dependent on Him ; to let grace act freely in all circumstances, and to its full extent, the soul reserving no power to itself except in order to thorough correspondence with grace.
These principles being laid down, it is clear that surrender of liberty is the same thing as devotion to God ; because devotion is only an engagement to forsake self-will, and follow the will of God. This gift of liberty may be made in two ways, of which one depends on ourselves,
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and the other on God. It depends on ourselves, while retaining the exercise of liberty, to determine that it shall be subjected to the inspirations of grace, and to keep to this resolution. It depends on God to make Himself really IMaster of our liberty, by reason of our thus yielding it to Him ; to govern it Himself, and, without doing it violence, to keep it captive in His hand. Hence arise two methods of serving God, one of which is called the Active, and the other the Passive way. Both are good; bv^th are agreeable to God ; both are interior ; both adapted to make saints.
Following the first way, a Christian makes due use of the faculties bestowed on him by God — of memory, understanding, and will ; he exercises them himself. Although directed by grace, and fully intending to follow its direction, he yet preserves his own liberty, and considers, judges, and chooses, concerning all things pertaining to his salvation. He meditates on the truths of the Gospel; by effort of his will he acquires love for them, he applies them to himself, and makes them the rule of his conduct. He forms resolutions, and endeavours to reduce them to practice ; he uses pious methods, and holy ingenuities suggested by the Spirit of God, or by good books and the examples of the saints. Thus, by continual thought and perseverance, together with the assistance of prayer, advice, and sacraments, he succeeds in correcting his faulty habits and in acquiring Christian virtuest
Most of those who are seriously working ou. their salvation travel by this path, which is the most common, and is that taught by most popular books on devotion. This is the reason
MAXIM II.
why we have so many methods, and exercises, and practices, for learning to meditate, or for hearing Mass, or for Confession, or Communion. And in this way it is always necessary to begin, except in peculiar cases ; and it must always be persevered in, unless God Himself call us from it. Let this point be remembered ; it is of the greatest importance, as it destroys illusions, and saps the foundations of Quietism.
We enter the passive way, when we feel ourselves drawn by a strong and sweet working of grace, which, in order to gain space for its action, leads us to suspend our own ; wiien we are inwardly moved to yield up our heart and liberty and natural self-government completely and irrevocably into the hands of God. Thus God takes possession of the powers of the soul ; acts upon them, and makes them act as He will ; and man only follows, though yet freely, in the path marked out for him. He holds himself prepared to do at any moment what God may require of him ; and God, by secret inspiration, does cause him to know what He requires ; but yet this inspiration never involves disobedience to the Church, to rule, or to lawful authority; for there are no souls more docile or submissive than those which walk in this way.
Here, then, all exercise of natural liberty wdth regard to interior things (for of such only am I speaking) consists in seconding, and in never forestalling. Divine motions. As soon as they are resisted, or forestalled, the human spirit is plainly at work ; but in the state of which we speak the Christian lies under the hand of God, like an instrument on which and by means of which He works. Not, however, a purely pas-
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sive instrument, but one which consents and co-oj)erates by its own act, often with extreme repugnance, and with violence to itself. Its state may very well be compared to that of a child writing under its master’s guiding hand.
Now it is easy to imagine why this way is called passive, and wherein it differs from the active way. In the latter, the powers of the soul, assisted by grace, work, as it were, of themselves, and by their own exertion. Like the child writing from his master’s copy, under his inspection, and obedient to his teaching, the soul chooses a subject of reflection, ajDplies its various powers to it, forms chains of reasoning, produces affections, examines, deliberates, considers what to do, weighs arguments, and comes to a determination. All this, as we see, is active.
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