Friends at Court

New Zealand Tablet, 26 January 1911, Page 135

Friends at Court

GLEANINGS FOR NEXT WEEK'S CALENDAR January 29, Sunday.—Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany. St. Francis de Sales, Bishop, Confessor, and Doctor. „ 30, Monday—St. Felix IV., Pope and Confessor. „ 31, Tuesday.—St. Peter Nolasco, Confessor. February 1, Wednesday— Brigid, Virgin and Patroness of Ireland. „ 2, Thursday.— of the Blessed Virgin Mary. „ 3, Friday.— Dionysius, Pope and Confessor. „ 4, Saturday.—St. Andrew Corsini, Bishop and Confessor. St. Francis de Sales, Bishop, Confessor, and Doctor. This saint was born in Savoy in 1547. Naturally of a passionate disposition, he succeeded in obtaining such perfect control over himself that his name is a synonym for meekness and patience. Ordained priest, the sanctity of his life, united to a gentle, winning manner, enabled 'him to bring back to the Church numbers of his countrymen, who had been imbued from childhood with the heretical tenets of Calvin. In 1602 he became Bishop of Geneva. He died in 1622, after having shown himself the model of a Bishop, as he had been that of a layman and priest. St. Felix IV., Pope and Confessor. St. Felix died in 550, after having occupied the Chair of Peter during four years. He was remarkable for the charity with which he endeavored to provide for the wants of the poor and sick of the Eternal City. St. Peter Nolasco, Confessor. This saint was a native of France. He founded the Order of Our Lady of Mercy for the ransom of Christians enslaved by the Moors, and to this object he devoted the considerable property which he had inherited from his father. Pie died on Christmas Dav, 1256, in the sixtyseventh year of his age. GRAINS OF GOLD TO THE SACRED HEART. 0 Heart! where human sorrows find An echo and a balm combined, Be near me in this weary way, That men call life. Oh, be my stay! Teach me to bear misfortune's stings, The agony of little things, The thorns in duty's pathway spread, That wear the heart like tears unshed. Oh! Lift me up, till I can see Naught but Thine own Divinity. Help me, 0 God ! when I must 'bear Heartaches that Thou alone canst share Unworthy of Thy faintest sigh, To Thee I cry ! To Thee I cry ! Give me Thy love! Give me Thy love! Oh! Let my* life be spent above Earth's sordid cares! Oh! Let me be Thine, Sacred Heart, eternally. We carry our happiness with us. If we are in the state of grace, if we are living for God, if we are on the way to Heaven, what can disturb our peace? You who are poor, if you will it, you are rich. Your work is a prayer; so is your appeal for justice whatever mistaken plans you may make. As you lift spade or tool, angels see you; you are surrounded by unseen friends, and your hard work and fatigue have their harvest of glory. It is right to seek the good will of all men, and to desire that they speak well of us, but when we lie down to die it will be an empty pillow if this is all we can rest on. When we are through with life and all its applause, and we are awaiting the final call, we want something more substantial than a friendly salute. When the faces we love grow dim to our vision, and we are lying in the twilight of two worlds, there are voices we should much rather hear than the plaudits and acclaim of the world, and one of them is: 'Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' . For thirty-five years I have been a priest and Bishop in London, and now I approach my eightieth year, and have learned some lessons, and the first is this : The chief bar to the working of the Holy Spirit of God in the souls of men and women is intoxicating drink. I know of no antagonist to the Spirit more direct, more subtle, more stealthy, more übiquitous, than intoxicating drink. Though I have known men and women destroyed for all manner of reasons, yet I know of no cause that affects man, woman, child, and home with such universality of steady power as intoxicating drink.—Cardinal Manning.