There is a beautiful legend told of a Franciscan friar, which will illustrate my meaning better. He thought that he would become tired of heaven itself and its occupations; for by his time of life he, too, had learned the secret that nothing in this world can bring real, lasting happiness. So, one day, his superior sent him out to gather fuel for the fire. As he was picking up the wood, he heard a far sweeter warble than ever came from the throat of a bird; but it was not a bird of the earthly forest; it was some sweet strains of celestial music that he heard. He must pause one moment to hear the end of the song before making up his bundle of wood. So he stood still, and the warbling went on, so full, so sweet, so rich, that he almost held his breath in ecstasy. When it ceased, "How short it was!" he said, then picked up the arm-load of sticks and returned to the monastery. He rang the bell at the gate, but a brother came whom he did not know. "Who are you that takes the place of Brother John?" he inquired. "But rather who are you?" was the reply. {241} "Ah, I am Brother Francis." "Brother Francis! There is no Brother Francis." Then the oldest monk in the monastery was called, and he tottered in on his cane, and told how, when he was a boy, he had heard some old gray-haired monks tell that, long, long ago, when they were young, Brother Francis had gone, one afternoon, for wood, and never returned: killed doubtless by the wild beasts. So they counted the years, and found that Brother Francis had listened to the bird's song one hundred and fifty years, and thought that too short. Now, if the sweet singing from the voice of an angel could so entrance this holy man that he thought so many years to be but a moment, how much more will our soul be enraptured with the sight of heaven, with the song of the choir of the redeemed, and by the vision of the Blessed Trinity! In heaven, the heart will stand still, and in the fulness of its joy remain transfixed for ever. Then why is it that we give way under our sufferings, our daily trials and crosses? Why do so many grow faint-hearted, and think that there is no rest, no peace, for them? Why do people despair of ever being happy? It is because they forget the very object for which they were created. They lose sight of the eternal joy and the unending happiness that God has prepared for those who love Him. {242}