3. _Work._ As I turn to the panel on the left I feel that I can breathe more freely--my work will certainly give satisfaction! It is something to be proud of; I have always got on well; I have never been idle and I have had a certain measure of success, and I feel that in that respect at any rate my life will bear inspection. But this picture too, as I look at it, seems to be divided up. Yes, I can see quite clearly all the different works upon which I have been engaged. All are very familiar and bring back for the most part happy memories, but some of them seem to be labelled.--What is it that is written across them? "_You did it to Me._" And all the rest that have no labels? They do not count--so evidently considered the One Who put on the labels. He left them, passed them over, there was nothing there _for Him_. But that hospital that was founded is not labelled, nor that legacy promised for a charitable purpose! Surely some of these without labels are "good works!" And these that are labelled are such insignificant things, things I should never have remembered at all if they were not in the picture--a kind word, a smile, a hasty word kept back because I knew it would pain _Him_, suffering cheerfully borne because I wanted to be like Him who suffered for me. Why these and not those? Because He prefers _little_ things? No, but because of the motive. Had the hospital been built out of love for Him and His sick, had it been built for the glory of God and not for the glory of self, it too would have been labelled. Had the hasty word been kept back that others might notice my self-control, it would _not_ have been labelled. What counts with God is the intention with which a thing is done. If it is done out of love for Him, no matter how insignificant it is, yea, no matter how badly done, it will surely be labelled "_You did it to Me_," and it will last when the mighty works that men have so much praised are crumbling in the dust, labelled with another label _You did it not unto Me_. Have I not need to make another Act of Contrition as I think of my works, my love of gain, my ambition, love of praise and success, of the motives of my so-called works of charity, of the times in which I have allowed my work to take the first place in my life, while my soul had to take the second? I shut up my triptych and leave it at Thy Feet O my JESUS, where the Blood from Thy Wounds may ever drip upon it, while I with Magdalen stoop and bathe Thy Feet with my tears. POINT II. THE TRIPTYCH.--GOD'S MERCIES.