“I don’t quite know how to examine myself,” said Avice.
“And thou wilt err,” answered Father Thomas, “if thou set about that work alone, with a torch lighted at the flame of thine own righteousness. Light thy torch at the fire of God’s altar; examine thyself by the light of His holy law; and do it at His feet, so that whatever evil thing thou mayest find thou canst take at once to Him to be cleansed away. Content not thyself with brushing away thoughts, but go to the root of that same sin in thine own heart. Say not, ‘I should not have spoken proudly to my neighbour’—but, ‘I should not be proud in my heart.’ Deal rather with the root that is in thee than with the branches of acts and words. There are sins which only to think of is to do. Take to our Lord, then, thy sins to be cleansed away; but let thine own thoughts dwell not so much on thy sins, thy deeds done and words said, but rather on thy sinfulness, the inward fount of sin in thy nature.”
“That were ugly work!” said Avice.
“Ay. I reckon thou countest not the scouring of thy floor among thine enjoyments. But it is needful, my daughter: and is it no enjoyment to see it clean?”
“Ay, that it is,” admitted Avice.
“I remember, my child, many years ago—thou wert but a little maid—that holy Bishop Robert came to sup with thy grandmother Muriel. Tell me, wouldst thou have been satisfied—I say not as a little child, since children note not such things—but as a woman, wouldst thou have been satisfied to receive the holy Bishop with a dirty floor, and offer to him an uncleansed spoon to put to his lips?”
“Oh no, Father, surely not!”
“Then see, daughter, that when the Bishop of thy soul lifteth the latch to come in and sup with thee, He find not the soiled floor and the unclean vessel, and turn sorrowfully away, saying, ‘I thought to sup with My child this night, but this is no place for Me.’ Trust me, thou wilt lose more than He, if He close the door and depart.”
Avice’s eyes filled with tears.
“O Father, pray for me! I cannot bear to think of that.”