Could but our voice reach the ears, and our entreaties penetrate the hearts of these guilty Catholics, we would lift it up and cry out to them: Do penance speedily! Repair by a good example the evil which your bad example has caused to your neighbor. Strive to gain more souls to Christ than your wicked life has lost to him heretofore. Let your good works shine out the more, so that like the servant of the eleventh hour, you may obtain the full wages of eternal life. As for you, dearest brethren, who have manfully withstood until now all temptations to be disloyal to your faith, whose lives, full of good works, have borne noble testimony to Christ, lift up your eyes and hearts to heaven at this season of our Lord's ascension. "_I go,_" he says, "_to prepare a place for you. I will come again, and will take you to myself; that where I am, you may be also_." [Footnote 36] [Footnote 36: John xiv., 2, 3.] ------------------- {76} Sermon V. Spiritual Death. "Behold! a dead man was carried out." --St. Luke vii., 12. (From the Gospel of the 15th Sunday after Pentecost.) What a touching occasion was this, in which our Blessed Lord was pleased to manifest his power, and perform one of his many acts of infinite mercy; an act, which like all his miracles, was not only full of loving-kindness to those for whom it was performed, but also replete with spiritual instruction for all. A widow is bereaved of her only consolation, a son, in whom were centred all her hopes, in whose happiness all her own was bound up; the pride of her eyes, her joy in adversity, and the sunshine to her poor heart in the cloudy days of sorrow. {77} Perhaps, too, he was her only support; his the arm which labored for their daily bread, and she looked forward to the time when age and gray hairs should bring infirmity, and her enfeebled body tremble on the verge of the grave; then would he be the light to her dimmed eyes, and a guide to her tottering steps. And now, alas! he is gone! Is the world all dead? Is it always night? Do the birds sing no more? Are the earth and sky all wrapped in a great, gloomy mantle of grief? Where is her heart, does it beat no more? Ah! so it is indeed to her. How she watched him in the long hours of his racking pains, his burning fever. At times he did not know her; _her_, his own dear mother. Oh! how she prayed for him. Oftentimes, as he lay upon his dying bed unconscious, she would kneel down beside him, and take his thin wasted hand in hers, and lift up her streaming eyes to God, the Father of the fatherless, and pour forth her soul in an agony of supplication, beseeching Him to spare her only son, her life, her all. {78}