Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

.i.i\n
thorn, prenllr, it must ho owned, to tlin disappointment
of the
old lady, who had been ;;u interested \\itness of tl
"
My poor Agnese,"' taiil the old man, with a compassionate
smile, " for a moment I forgot your misfortune, and beckoned
"
as though you could see me.
" I knew that you would have work for me this evening,"
said the young girl, in a voice which fell like soft music ou the
ear, it was so plaintive and so sweet, " and so I thought I would
wait until you came to call me."
"And then forgot the old inan, in thought of Him to whose
service the old man would call you," returned her companion
with a smile.
"Yes, Francesco."
" I should like to know those thoughts, my child. Strange
it is that one so young should find within herself the source of
such deep and "
holy meditation.
" Not so strange, Francesco ; remember I am blind."
" You are right, my child the ; good Jesus never withholds
a gift without replacing it by another tenfold its value and
;
BO, perhaps, He has but blinded you to the gore, but cow so beautiful and so sweet sweet with the
things of this
'
smell
of Lebanon,' the o;lor of His ointments. And then at
continued the old man, and his voice grew tremulous and
'
'full of tears,' it seems to me that He permits me to a yet.
'
closer union with Himself, that He even : says friend come
up higher,' that He folds His arms around me, that He lays my
head upon His c acred bosom, breathing of paradise, that He
draws me even to the centre of His sacred heart, and in its
holy stillness imparts to me those lessons of heavenly love and
wisdom, which once by His living lips, He gave to His disciples.
And what are those lessons, dear child, if they are not
contained in such words as these ?
'
Blessed are tlie poor in
spirit; blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted;
blessed are the merciful, for they shall find mercy.'
' Or again Learn of Me, for I am meek and humble of heart,
and you shall fiud peace in your souls. My yoke is sweety
and my burden light.' And I listen, dear Aguese, until my
very heart and soul seem steeped in the sweetness of these
words as in the dew of heaven; and then I say, not indeed by
lips, but by the internal language of the '
:-pirit: Speak, "Lord,
for Thy servant heareth; Thou ha-t Ihe words of eternal life;
say to my soul, I am "
thy salvation.'
" That is very beautiful, and of great devotion," said Agnese,
and for an instant there was something of sadness in her
sweet, low voice; "but then, you know, I cannot think or feel
that way, because I cannot see; therefore, I cannot image to
earth, in order to give you a facility for discerning the glories
of His invisible kingdom, in a manner not often granted to
His poor creatures while yet in the body."
" How do you see Jesus, Francesco ?" said Agnese, abruptly.
" I know that, God and man, He is on our altars, but then I
know not well what an altar is like, and I have never seen a
man."
" When I kneel before the altar," said the old man, in the
tone and manner of one describing what he sees, and what he
is seeing at that moment, "I first say to myself , Jesus is in
holy calm, a silence inexpressible around it are spirits bowed,
cherubim and seraphim, in reverent adoration. There have
the weary of earth found rest at last, and
the saints their exceeding great reward, aud
tenderness, He is speaking to my soul, and fixing on me those
eyes which once were fixed in dying sweetness on His Mother;
and so, in awful and yet most calm affection, I kneel before
Him, and press to my lips that robe which once imparted of
His virtue to the sick woman of the Gospel; aud kiss those
feet which were not refused to the embraces of Magdalen; and
inhale the fragrance of those wounds, once terrible in their
myself what Christ is like in His glorified humanity."
" Then tell me, Agnese, what it is that draws you
to His
altar? '
"
I can hardly tell you, it is so much easier to feel than to
describe. I am drawn to Jesus, I know not how *>nibraeed
the tabernacle, I know He is there ; I believe it as if my very
eyes beheld Him. He is here in His divinity in His humanity
He is there. Methinks, therefore, that I look upon Him
in the human form which H,e took from Mary, but which is
now all light and radiance radiant in its own glorified nature
- but yet more radiant in the glory of the divinity, by which
it is imbued, and penetrated, and filled to overflowing. I behold
Him a God, and yet a man a man, and still a God and
;
if the awed majesty of His heavenly Father be throned upon
His brow, yet is it mingled with that sweet and by Him,
gentle look,
which made Him on earth so like His Mother."
I cannot tell you in what manner. It is as if a spirit
of awe, and power, and majesty, and greatness, was over-
they sing His praises and ever and ; always they cast their
crowns before Him, and send up incense from their golden
horns, and scatter the flowers of Paradise at His feet and ; so
shadowing the sanctuary, awing and hushing every creature
into silence; around that holy spot do angels and saints keep
sleepless watch, and the Mother of God is ever there. I do
not see them, but I feel them at my side ; sometimes in
silence they adore; sometimes in strains of sweetest music
" Go on, dear Francesco," said Agnese. sitting down at his
feet, and covering her face with her hands "
; go on I love
;
to hear you,"
" Yet doth- He wear the garment of His shame, but now
woven of the light which the Lamb sheds over His loved in
lieaven, flows it in robes of brightness to His feet. Yet doth
He bear the crown with which our sins have diademed
His brow, but now the lustre of millions of millions of diamonds
seems concentrated in every thorn. Yet doth He show
those wounda which, in Hia it seems to me,
hands, and feet, arid side, He refused
not for our love but for the blood once ; shed therefrom,
streams of glory and of sweetness are pouring from them now.
And beneath this glorious veil of His humanity methiuks I
discern the light inaccessible