From the discourse on the "Triumphs of the Cross," we select the closing paragraph:
"O blessed Jesus, may the image of these sacred wounds, as expressed by the cross, never depart from my thoughts. As it is a badge and privilege of the exalted office, to which, most unworthy, I have been raised, to wear ever upon my breast the figure of that cross, and in it, as in a holy shrine, a fragment of that blessed tree whereon thou didst hang on Golgotha, so much more let the lively image of thee crucified dwell within my bosom, and be the source from which shall proceed every thought, and word, and action of my ministry! Let me preach thee, and thee crucified, not the plausible doctrines of worldly virtue and human philosophy. In prayer and meditation let me ever have before me thy likeness, as thou stretchest forth thine arms to invite us to seek mercy and to draw us into thine embrace. Let my Thabor be on Calvary; there it is best for me to dwell. There thou hast prepared three tabernacles; one for such as, like Magdalen, have offended much, but love to weep at thy blessed feet; one for those who, like John, have wavered in steadfastness for a moment, but long again to rest their head upon thy bosom; and one whereinto only she may enter whose love burns without a reproach, whose heart, always one with thine, finds its home in the centre of thine, fibre intertwined with fibre, till both are melted into one in that furnace of sympathetic love. With these favorites of the cross, let me ever, blessed Saviour, remain in meditation and prayer, and loving affection for thy holy rood. I will venerate its very substance, whenever presented to me, with deep and solemn reverence. I will honor its image, wherever offered to me, with lowly and respectful homage. But still more I will hallow and love its spirit and inward form, impressed on the heart, and shown forth in the holiness of life. And oh! divine Redeemer, from thy cross, thy true mercy-seat, look down in compassion upon this thy people. Pour forth thence abundantly the streams of blessing, which flow from thy sacred wounds. Accomplish within them, during this week of forgiveness, the work which holy men have so well begun, [Footnote 40] that all may worthily partake of thy Paschal feast. Plant thy cross in every heart; may each one embrace it in life, may it embrace him in death; and may it be a beacon of salvation to his departing soul, a crown of glory to his immortal spirit! Amen."
[Footnote 40: Alluding to the mission just closed by the Fathers of the Institute of Charity.]
What follows is from the sermon on the "Veneration of the Blessed Virgin:"
"If, then, any one shall accuse me of wasting upon the mother of my Saviour feelings and affections which he hath jealously reserved for himself. I will appeal from the charge to his judgment, and lay the cause before him, at any stage of his blessed life. I will go unto him at the crib of Bethlehem, and acknowledge that, while, with the kings of the East, I have presented to him all my gold and frankincense and myrrh, I have ventured, with the shepherds, to present an humbler oblation of respect to her who was enduring the winter's frost in an unsheltered stable, entirely for his sake. Or I will meet him, as the holy fugitives repose on their desert-path to Egypt, and confess that, knowing from the example of Agar, how a mother cast forth from her house into the wilderness, for her infant's sake, only loves it the more, and needs an angel to comfort her in her anguish (Gen. xxi. 17), I have not restrained my eyes from her whose fatigues and pain were a hundred-fold increased by his, when I have sympathized with him in this his early flight, endured for my sins. Or I will approach a more awful tribunal, and step to the foot of his cross, and own to him, that while I have adored his wounds, and stirred up in my breast my deepest feelings of grief and commiseration for what I have made him suffer, my thoughts could not refrain from sometimes glancing toward her whom I saw resignedly standing at his feet, and sharing his sorrows; and that, knowing how much Respha endured while sitting opposite to her children justly crucified by command of God (2 Kings xxi. 10), I had felt far greater compassion for her, and had not withheld the emotions, which nature itself dictated, of love, and veneration, and devout affection toward her. And to the judgment of such a son I will gladly bow, and his meek mouth shall speak my sentence, and I will not fear it. For I have already heard it from the cross, addressed to me, to you, to all, as he said: 'Woman, behold thy son;' and again: 'Behold thy mother.' (John xix. 26, 27.)"
An appendix to the volume contains six beautiful pastorals, on devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, in connection with education.
SPIRITUAL PROGRESS. By J. W. Cummings, D.D., LL.D., of St. Stephen's Church, New York City. 12mo., pp. 330. New York: P. O'Shea.
We cannot better state the purpose of this excellent little book than in the words of the author's preface: "Spiritual Progress is a familiar exposition of Catholic morality, which has for its object to tell people of common intelligence what they are expected to do in [{141}] order to be good Christians, and how they shall do it, and the results that will follow." It is written not for those strong, heroic souls, whose faith is firm, whose devotion is ardent, and who crave strong spiritual food; but for that numerous class of weak Christians, recent converts, honest inquirers, and fervent but uninstructed Catholics, who are not yet prepared to accept the more difficult counsels of perfection; who are ready perhaps to do what God says they must do; but need a little training before they can be brought to do any more. To put an ascetic work into the hands of such persons would often be like giving beef to a young baby: it would hurt, not help them. Dr. Cummings's book, in fact, is a sort of spiritual primer for the use of those who are just beginning their spiritual education. It is simple, straightforward, and practical. There is a charm in the style—so clear, so terse, often almost epigrammatic, and sometimes rising to the poetical—which carries the reader along in spite of himself. The tone is not conversational; yet when you read, it seems as if you were not so much reading as listening. And that argues great literary merit.
Here is an extract from the chapter on "Faults of Conversation:"