« qu’aux insensés et aux impies de rejeter comme fausses les choses élevées et secrètes, parce qu’elles ne leur sont pas connues, — et de ne pas ajouter foi aux plus honnêtes gens du monde lorsqu’ils parlent des choses de Dieu sur ce que leur propre expérience leur en a appris. »
« Et à ceux qui, sans accepter aucune imputation contre la vie religieuse, lui sont opposés par les principes d’un christianisme qu’ils croient plus pur que celui-là, nous rappellerons ces paroles sorties de la bouche divine :
« Si vous voulez être parfaits, allez, vendez ce que vous possédez et le donnez aux pauvres, vous aurez un trésor au ciel. »
« Et celles-ci :
« Quiconque aura quitté sa maison, ou ses frères, ou ses sœurs, ou son père, ou sa mère, ou sa femme, ou ses terres pour mon nom, recevra le centuple, et possèdera la vie éternelle. »
« Et nous leur demanderons ou, dans toute la chrétienté, ces paroles auraient aujourd’hui une application, si l’Église catholique, par ses conseils de perfection, qui sont la règle de la vie religieuse, ne destinait pas un certain nombre de ses enfants à les réaliser ? » (P. C. Londres, le 21 mars, 1851. Extrait du Propagateur Catholique.)
Puisque Madeleine vient d’être nommée comme le premier modèle de contemplation et d’amour parfait, nous citerons, sur cette grande pécheresse et héroïque pénitente, la poétique et touchante composition d’une jeune plume inconnue :
« Mournful and sweet are my thoughts, for varied is my theme ; alternate in harmony thrill the chords of sadness and joy. Angels and ministers of grace, unite your celestial strains with feeble breathings of my humble lyre. I sing the triumphs of Penitence, Virtue, and Love.
« In far-famed Bethania dwelt the beauteous maid ; she arose a beam of light. In the morning of her prime, no flower more lovely in its embrys, in the fragrant garden of Palestine. Tresses of gold flowed down her ivory neck — waving as the ripened gift of yellow Ceres. Mary was her name ; a bright star of the sea. But alas ! this light was obscured in the splendor of its rising — that flower was nipped in the bud of its loveliness, that star was dimmed in all the glitter of its beauty. The spoiler saw her beauty and was grieved — he beheld her brightness and was troubled — he seduced the maid — he led her astray from the paths of virtue. Her beauty is fled — her eyes have lost their wonted fire — there is no peace at heart. Dark is the gloom of her spirit, for virtue is departed. Yet do not despair, fairest of unhappy maids, there is one to come who will stretch forth a hand of mercy — to heal and save you ; the Lord is his name. Lo, he is ushered in by the innocent of the desert. He comes to save the sheep that were about to perish — he comes to shed a ray of illumination over the darkness of the earth — he comes to unlock the gates of bliss. « The bruised reed he shall not break, neither shall he extinguish the smoking flax. » His peculiar attributes are mercy and love — the accents of comfort are on his lips, and all his paths are peace. Oh ! strayed sheep ! return to the bosom of thy shepherd. Oh ! ungrateful creature ! hasten to the feet of thy Lord. Oh ! unhappy Prodigal ! rush to the embraces of thy Father. Behold a beam of grace falls upon her dark spirit — a tear drop of sorrow melts her stony heart — the repentant maid is full of grief — she arises in haste, she seeks the beloved of her soul. Spikenard and saffron, and sweet cane, and cinnamon, and all the powders of the perfumer are treasures. But where is the desire of her heart ; where does he, whom her soul loveth sojourn — where shall she find him lying in the mid-day ? Simon the leper is honored by his presence, he is invited to a feast — it is a feast of mercy and love. The guilty daughter of Judah hears the happy news, she is replete with joy. She runs, she flees, she bursts through the opposing crowd ; no shame deters her penitent soul — no obstacles retard the rapid wing of her desires. Her soul is on fire with sorrow — her eyes are streaming with tears — her countenance is lit up with celestial splendor — she is at the feet of her Lord — she bathes them with her tears — she anoints them with her spices — she wipes them with her dishevelled and golden tresses. Her Father is moved — her God is full of forgiveness — the pure gold of her charity purchases the pardon of her crimes — the lips of Jesus are dropping with the dew of comfort,
