You know that through the art of photography a perfect picture of an object may be produced by the action of light upon a smooth and sensitive surface. The light reflected from the object which is to be photographed enters through a lens into the dark chamber of the camera, and makes an impression upon the plate which is rendered sensitive by a film of chloride (or nitrate) of silver. To produce a good picture, therefore, three things are principally required: 1. _A faultless sensitized plate_ on which the reflection of the object is to be made; 2. _A concentrated light_; that is, the rays must enter the camera through a lens, but be excluded from every other part; 3. _The right focus_; that is to say, you must get the proper distance of your object in order to preserve the just proportions between it and its surroundings. The same requisites may be applied to ourselves when we wish to image in our souls the object of divine truth, which is identical with God. 1. The sensitive plate of our hearts and minds must be clean, without flaw, so as to admit the ray of heavenly light, and let it take hold upon its surface. A tarnished mirror gives but a blurred and imperfect reflection. Just so the mind occupied with the follies and vanities of worldliness, the heart filled with the changing idols of unworthy attachments, is no fit surface for the delicate impressions of those chaste delineations of truth which are nothing else but the image of God in the human soul. To His likeness we were created, and to His likeness we must again conform ourselves by a right study of truth. 2. Next, in order to obtain a correct impression of the sublime truth contained in the sacred volumes, we must concentrate our lights. That is to say, we must read with assiduity, must study with earnestness, and also with prayer, to obtain the light of the Divine Spirit who caused these pages of the Bible to be traced for our instruction--for, as one of our greatest English writers, though not a Catholic, has beautifully said: "Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries! Happiest they of human race To whom God has granted grace To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, To lift the latch and force the way; And better had they ne'er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn."[1]