It is easy, then, to see why it is that the Church _dies daily_, why it is that she is content to be stripped of all that makes her life effective, why she too permits her hands to be bound and her feet fettered and her beauty marred and her voice silenced so far as men can do those things. She is human? Yes; she dwells in a _body that is prepared_ for her, but prepared chiefly that she may suffer in it. Her far-reaching hands are not hers merely that she may bind up with them the broken-hearted, nor her swift feet hers merely that she may run on them to succour the perishing, nor her head and heart hers merely that she may ponder and love. But all this sensitive human organism is hers that at last she may agonize in it, bleed from it from a thousand wounds, be lifted up in it to draw all men to her cross. She does not desire, then, in this world, the _throne of her Father David_, nor the kind of triumph which is the only kind that the world understands to be so. She desires one life and one triumph only--the Risen Life of her Saviour. And this, at last, is the transfiguration of her Humanity by the power of her Divinity and the vindication of them both. End of Project Gutenberg's Paradoxes of Catholicism, by Robert Hugh Benson