Founded on these tender words, which our Saviour pronounced immediately before the Supper: "With desire I have desired to eat this Pasch with you."—Luke, xxii. 15. For why should we not feel the most ardent desire to be united to our Lord in this sacrament, when we see him so desirous to visit us, and take up his dwelling in our hearts? Endeavour to excite this desire, by considering how much you stand in need of this bread of life, and by the great esteem this heavenly nourishment deserves.
Since thou, O Lord, art so prodigal of miracles, and obligest me to receive thee under such severe penalties, nothing can be more certain than that thou desirest to make my heart thy dwelling-place. With what fervent desires should I not, therefore, endeavour to co-operate with such bountiful intentions! O my all-sufficient God, though thou standest in no need of me, yet thou hast compassion on my poverty. May then the efficacy of thy grace supply my indigence; may it awaken every faculty of my soul, and render my desires to receive thee worthily still more inflamed; for though they are arrived at a certain anxiety, I am nevertheless sensible of their being too tepid. Alas! my Redeemer, why do I not sigh after thee with the same holy fervour as did the patriarchs of the old law, who expected thy coming? "Come, O Lord, and do not delay." Remember, O heavenly physician, that thou canst not refuse thy all-healing balsam to the wounds of my soul, since thy motive for descending on earth was to heal the sins of men. Although I am needy and poor, yet thou canst enrich me; although I am enslaved under the tyranny of my predominant passions, yet thou canst break my chains and set me at liberty; a single word of thine would be altogether sufficient to work these miracles in favour of one so unworthy of thy corporal presence as I am. Speak it then, O Sovereign Good, for I can no longer live without thee. Let blind and infatuated worldlings intoxicate themselves with the false, transient, and fading happiness of this life; as for my part, nothing besides thyself can content me, either in heaven or on earth; for what have I in heaven, or what can I desire on earth besides thee? Come, then, O thou Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world! Come, thou beloved of my heart! adorable flesh and precious blood of my Saviour! Come, to nourish, comfort, and enliven my sickly soul. O God of my heart! let me neither love, seek, nor think on any other object but thyself alone: for thou alone art my consolation, my treasure, my joy, my life, my God, and my all! My heart as eagerly desires to receive thee, as the wearied stag longs to quench his thirst in the fountains of water. Psalm xli.
An Act Of Fear.
The Evangelist mentions, that when our Saviour declared to his disciples, that one of them should betray him, they were all exceedingly afflicted: "Verily I say unto you, that one of you will betray me; and they began each of them to say, Is it I, Lord? Is it I?"—Matthew xxviii. Let your hearts also give way for a moment, to the thoughts of that uncertainty which every man is in, of being in the state of grace: examine seriously your real dispositions, and have no other confidence than in the mercy of God.
If the uncertainty of being worthy of thy love or hatred, O Lord, made even St. Paul, that vessel of election, tremble, how much more reason have not I to apprehend, lest some concealed sin, lurking in my heart, might obstruct the salutary influence of those graces which thou hast prepared for those who worthily receive thee in this divine sacrament? May not I, perhaps, like another Judas, give thee the kiss of peace to-day, and basely betray thee to-morrow? or, instead of coming to visit me as a faithful disciple, dost thou not rather come with horror and indignation, as to a concealed enemy? How can I answer for the integrity of my confession, the fervour of my contrition, or the sincerity of my resolutions? Is it not custom, or human respect, that brings me to the foot of thy altar? Have not I still some favourite attachment? and in the resolutions I have made of relinquishing my vile evil habits, have I not spared some favourite though dangerous passion? With the same heart-felt anguish as thy disciples experienced on the like occasion, I ask thee, O Lord, "Is it I?" But the most abominable traitor, Judas, asked thee the same question? Is not my anxiety, as his was, only false and apparent? It is this thought, O my God, that terrifies me; and it is to thyself alone I have recourse to preserve me from so horrible a sacrilege. No, thou wilt never permit me to be guilty of so horrid a profanation, since thou seest there is no evil I dread so much. Wherefore, my dear Saviour, after being as diligent as I could in my preparation to receive thee, I now rest entirely on thy infinite mercy, "Depart from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man."—Luke, v. "Have confidence, my child, thy sins are forgiven thee."—Matt. xi.
An Act Of Contrition.
By our Saviour's washing the feet of his disciples, to prepare them for this new supper, ("And he began to wash the feet of his disciples, and dry them with the girt he had about him,"—John, xiii.) we are taught not to confine ourselves merely to detesting those grievous sins which give death to the soul; because we see that the disciples were obliged to undergo this ceremony, though Christ already had declared them pure, and in the state of grace; ("you," saith he, "are already clean;") but we should also endeavour to purify our souls, as much as possible, from even the slightest stains of venial sin, which is signified by the washing of the feet of his disciples.
To transform a soul, so defiled as mine by the ordure of sin, into a state of innocence and purity, must be the work of the right hand of the Most High. Ah, my God! I shall never be able to discover any vestige of that precious innocence which makes a soul so lovely and acceptable in thy sight, unless I trace back my whole life to the days of my childhood. But although I have had the misfortune to forfeit my baptismal innocence by sin, yet there remains for my consolation this sure anchor, whereby I may hope to regain thy favour, grounded on thy infallible promise, that thou wilt never despise a contrite and humble heart.