“But when one does know one’s duty,” asked Avice with simplicity, “it seems so hard to make one’s self do it.”
“Didst thou ever yet do that? Daughter, dost thou believe in the Holy Ghost?”
Avice’s immediate answer was what would be the instinctive unthinking response of most professing Christians.
“Why, Father, of course I do!”
“Good. What dost thou believe?”
Avice was silent. “Ah!” said the priest. “It is easy to think we believe: but hard to put our faith into plain words. If the faith were clearer, maybe the words would follow.”
“It is so difficult to get things clear and plain!” sighed poor Avice.
“Have one thing clear, daughter—the way between God and thine own soul. Let nothing come in to block up that—however fair, howsoever dear it be. And thou shalt have thy reward.”
“Father, is it like keeping other things clear? The way to have the floor clear and clean is to sweep it every morning.”
“Ay, my daughter, sweep it every morning with the besom of prayer, and every night bear over it the torch of self-examination. So shall the evil insects not make their nests there.”