Francis was not an extraordinary character in any sense of the word. He was what he was simply and solely by the grace of God, which is ever free for all men. He was not a man created for the hour. He was a vessel, cleansed and emptied, and thus fit for the Master's use, and God used him, as He always uses such vessels. The whole secret of his sainthood lay in his simple, loving, implicit obedience. Not the lifeless obedience that one renders to inexorable law, but the heart-felt, passionate desire to serve, and to anticipate the lightest want of the One Object of the affections! That baptism of personal love for God and union with Christ was poured out upon Francis in the black hour of what looked to him complete failure; when hunted and pursued, he sought refuge from his angry friends in the caves of the earth. The gift that he then received he never ceased to guard and cherish, and other blessings were added to it, for God has promised, "To him that hath it shall be given." And God gave liberally, good measure, pressed down, and running over. But the gifts which were Francis are ours too, by right of grace Divine--to be had for the faithful seeking, and kept by pure, faithful, and obedient living--"Called to be saints." The few? One here and there in every century? Oh, no. "Called to be saints," are the myriad souls who have received the Divine touch of regeneration. This is the calling and election of the redeemed; but oh, how few there are that make them _sure_! Five years had now elapsed since that spring morning, when, weak and ill from fever, Francis dragged himself out of doors, to look again on the glorious landscape that he thought would bring him health and healing. The story of his disappointment we have already told. During those five years Francis made gigantic strides in heavenly wisdom and knowledge, and we feel that we cannot do better than to pause in our narrative and try to give you some idea of the spiritual personality of the man, whose name even now the people were beginning to couple with that of "saint." In appearance Francis was a thorough Italian. He was rather below than over the ordinary height, his eyes and hair were dark, and his bearing free and gracious. He was chiefly remarkable for his happy, joyous expression. This he never lost: even when illness had robbed him of his good looks, the light in his eyes, and the smile on his lips were always the same. [Sidenote: _Holy Boldness._]