Love's secret is always to be doing things for God, and not to mind because they are such very little ones.
Good is that darkening of our lives, Which only God can brighten; But better still that hopeless load, Which none but God can lighten.
If our love were but more simple, We should take Him at His word; And our lives would be all sunshine In the sweetness of the Lord.
Devotion to the Blessed Sacrament is the queen of all devotions. It is the central devotion of the Church. All others gather round it, and group themselves there as satellites; for others celebrate his mysteries; this is Himself. It is the universal devotion. No one can be without it, in order to be a Christian. How can a man be a Christian who does not worship the living Presence of Christ?
The Blessed Sacrament is the magnet of souls. There is a mutual attraction between Jesus and the souls of men. Mary drew Him down from heaven. Our nature attracted Him rather than the nature of angels. Our misery caused Him to stoop to our lowness. Even our sins had a sort of attraction for the abundance of His mercy and the predilection of His grace. Our repentance wins Him to us. Our love makes earth a paradise to Him; and our souls lure Him as gold lures the miser, with irresistible fascination
Exactness in little things is a wonderful source of cheerfulness.
We strain hardest for things which are almost but not quite within our reach.
Small things are best: Grief and unrest To rank and wealth are given; But little things On little wings Bear little souls to Heaven.
Many there are who, while they bear the name of Christians, are totally unacquainted with the power of their divine religion. But for their crimes the Gospel is in no wise answerable. Christianity is with them a geographical, not a descriptive, appellation.
For right is right, since God is God and right the day must win. To doubt would be disloyalty, to falter would be sin.
The buried talent is the sunken rock on which most lives strike and founder.
Each hour comes with some little faggot of God's will fastened upon its back.
The music of the Gospel leads us home.
Now this spirit is admirably mortified by the exercise of patience. It involves also a continual practice of the presence of God; for we may be come upon at any moment for an almost heroic display of good temper. It is a short road to unselfishness; for nothing is left to self. All that seems to belong most intimately to self, to be self's private property, such as time, home, and rest, are invaded by these continual trials of patience.
Nobody is kind to only one person at once, but to many persons in one.
There is a great deal of self-will in the world, but very little genuine independence of character.
For children is there any happiness which is not also noise?
Ye Heavens, how sang they in your courts, How sang the angelic choir that day, When from his tomb the imprisoned God, Like the strong sunrise, broke away?
Is the scrupulous attention I am paying to the government of my tongue at all proportioned to that tremendous truth revealed through St. James, that if I do not bridle my tongue, all my religion is vain?
O majesty unspeakable and dread!Wert thou less mighty than Thou art,Thou wert, O Lord, too great for our belief,Too little for our heart.
It has always seemed to me that a love of natural objects, and the depth, as well as exuberance and refinement of mind, produced by an intelligent delight in scenery, are elements of the first importance in the education of the young.
There's a wideness in God's mercy Like the wideness of the sea Oratory Hymns.
The world is growing old;Who would not be at rest and freeWhere love is never cold?
Labour itself is but a sorrowful song,The protest of the weak against the strong.
For right is right, since God is God.
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