Accordingly, God, as existing essentially of himself—_a se_—has no need or capability of conservation; as existing essentially in himself—_in se_—he has no need or capability of sustentation; and as existing essentially by himself—_per se_—he has no need or capability of super‐completion. But with contingent beings the case is quite different. And first, contingent beings are not “of themselves,” as they are from God; and for this reason they have an essential need of conservation, as we have stated, so far as their essential act is concerned. Secondly, although they naturally exist “in themselves,” yet this their mode of existing is not the result of an essential necessity, but only of a natural ordination, which God can supersede. They exist in themselves when the term of their own essence is their _undermost_ support; for then the whole essence supports itself in a natural manner, and is a natural substance. Thirdly, although created beings naturally “subsist by themselves,” yet this manner of existing is not the consequence of an essential necessity, but only of a natural ordination, which can be superseded by the Creator. They subsist by themselves when the formal complement of their essence is their _ultimate_ complement; for then the whole being is left to itself as a natural suppositum. These explanations will be of some assistance, we hope, to the philosophical student in forming a correct judgment as to the formal constituents of substance and suppositum, and as to the manner of speaking about them with proper discrimination. We wish we had handled the subject in a better style and a less monotonous phraseology; but it was our duty to aim at preciseness rather than ornament. If there is any part of philosophy in which precision is more necessary than in another, it is that which treats of the principles of things; and if we succeed in presenting such principles in their true light, we shall deem it a sufficient apology for the dryness of our philosophical style. To Be Continued. On Hearing The “O Salutaris Hostia.”(21) Song of the soul, whose clearly ringing rhythm Throbs through the sacred pile, And lengthened echoes swell thy solemn anthem Past chancel, vault, and aisle, An occult influence through thy numbers stealing, A strange, mysterious spell, Wakes in the longing heart a wondrous feeling, A joy no tongue can tell; A dreamy peace, a sense of unseen glory, Wells through thy thrilling praise, And calls a fairy vision up before me, A dream of brighter days. I hear the seraphs’ sweet‐tongued voices pleading, The cherubim’s accord, And see the sun‐robed shadows softly thridding The gardens of the Lord. I linger on the sight, and growing weary Of earthly dross and sin, Sadly, yet hoping, like the wistful peri, I long to enter in!