To Live Is To Change, And To

A Cloud Of Incense Was Rising On High; The People Suddenly All Bowed Low; What Could It Mean? The Truth Flashed On Him, Fearfully Yet Sweetly; It Was The Blessed Sacrament - It Was The Lord Incarnate Who Was On The Altar, Who Had Come To Visit And Bless His People. It Was The Great Presence, Which Makes A Catholic Church Different From Every Other Place In The World; Which Makes It, As No Other Place Can Be - Holy.

God Has Created All Things For Good; All Things For Their Greatest Good; Everything For Its Own Good. What Is The Good Of One Is Not The Good Of Another; What Makes One Man Happy Would Make Another Unhappy. God Has Determined, Unless I Interfere With His Plan, That I Should Reach That Which Will Be My Greatest Happiness. He Looks On Me Individually, He Calls Me By My Name, He Knows What I Can Do, What I Can Best Be, What Is My Greatest Happiness, And He Means To Give It Me.

Christ Is Already In That Place Of Peace, Which Is All In All. He Is On The Right Hand Of God. He Is Hidden In The Brightness Of The Radiance Which Issues From The Everlasting Throne. He Is In The Very Abyss Of Peace, Where There Is No Voice Of Tumult Or Distress, But A Deep Stillness--stillness, That Greatest And Most Awful Of All Goods Which We Can Fancy; That Most Perfect Of Joys, The Utter Profound, Ineffable Tranquillity Of The Divine Essence. He Has Entered Into His Rest. That Is Our Home; Here We Are On A Pilgrimage, And Christ Calls Us To His Many Mansions Which He Has Prepared.

There Are Wounds Of The Spirit Which Never Close And Are Intended In God's Mercy To Bring Us Nearer To Him, And To Prevent Us Leaving Him By Their Very Perpetuity. Such Wounds Then May Almost Be Taken As A Pledge, Or At Least As A Ground For A Humble Trust, That God Will Give Us The Great Gift Of Perseverance To The End. This Is How I Comfort Myself In My Own Great Bereavements.

Knowledge Is One Thing, Virtue Is Another.