On another occasion, he tore off his tunic, because, for a brief moment of weakness, he harbored the thought that he might have led an easier life, and still serve God. Like other men, he might have had a settled home, and lived a tranquil existence. It was a passing temptation, but Francis, tearing off his coarse garment, emblem of the Cross that he strove to follow, cried—
"It is a religious habit—a man given up to such thoughts would be a robber if he wore it." Nor did he put it on again till he felt he could do so with a pure heart and clean conscience.
With the crystal transparency of his inner and outer life went a simplicity that was akin to that of a little child. His sermons and addresses were of the very simplest and plainest. Though Francis was undoubtedly one of the orators of the age, his fiery words and burning language were such that even the most unlearned could easily follow. His theme was simply Christ, and Christ crucified for our sins, and an exhortation to repentance and holy living. Learned ones pondered his words and marvelled wherein lay his power, little dreaming that his very plainness of speech was his strength.
His delight in the beauties of nature never left him. Sunset and sunrise, mountain and plain, river and sea alike, filled him with joy, and all spoke to him of the glory of God. Flowers always gave him especial pleasure. He insisted that his disciples should always reserve some portion of their gardens for the growth of flowers as well as vegetables, "to give them a foretaste of the eternal sweetness of Heaven." When the brethren went to the fields to chop wood, Francis always warned them to take care of the roots, so that the trunk might sprout again and live. To take life of any kind was intolerable to him. For this reason he always lifted the worms out of his path and laid them at the side of the road, lest an incautious traveller might crush them.
His love and power over animals are almost too well known to need mention. He always spoke of them as his brothers and sisters. He disdained nothing. All were to him alike beautiful, because the work of his God. For a long time, he had a tame sheep, that followed him about wherever it could get a chance. This sheep always seemed to know exactly how to behave under all circumstances. When the brethren knelt at prayers, it knelt too; when they sang, it joined in with a not-too-loud little bleat!
Near his room, at the Portiuncula, there lived a grasshopper in a fig-vine. This little insect would hop on his finger at his bidding, and when told to "sing and praise the Lord," used to chirp with all its might! Birds, insects, and even fishes and wild animals, we are told, all recognized in Francis a friend, and readily did his bidding.
Two Small Mites.
Francis' love for God was supreme, and his belief that God loved him never wavered. To make people love and know God was his one burning desire. It was not so much God's service he delighted in as God Himself. He never lost sight of the Master in the Work, and to a large extent this was the key to all his success. His work was the outcome of his love. After we have received, the first natural impulse is to give. Francis possessed "two small mites," an ancient historian writes—"they were his body and his soul. He gave them both, bravely and freely, according to his custom."
Whatever came—joy, sorrow, success, failure, pain, weariness, sickness, insult, or favor—Francis took as direct from the hand of God, and blessed Him for all. Why shouldn't he? His heart was right, he had the assurance that his ways pleased God, and his faith was not dependent upon knowledge. He was content, nay, glad to trust where he could not see, confident in the belief that "nothing could hurt a sanctified soul." His disciples could not always follow him so far. Some of them, when they saw their master suffering—as he did suffer severely in his last days—thought that God might have led His beloved Home by a less painful road. One of them once gave expression to his feelings thus:—
"Ah, my brother, pray to the Lord that He may treat you more gently. Truly, He ought to let His hand weigh less heavily upon you."