October 24

The Lord is my strength, and my shield; my heart trusted in Him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise Him.—PS. xxviii. 7.

  Well may Thy happy children cease
From restless wishes, prone to sin,
And, in Thy own exceeding peace,
Yield to Thy daily discipline.


Talk of hair-cloth shirts, and scourgings, and sleeping on ashes, as means of saintship! There is no need of them in our country. Let a woman once look at her domestic trials as her hair-cloth, her ashes, her scourges,—accept them,—rejoice in them,—smile and be quiet, silent, patient, and loving under them,—and the convent can teach her no more; she is a victorious saint.


Perhaps it is a greater energy of Divine Providence, which keeps the Christian from day to day, from year to year—praying, hoping, running, believing—against all hindrances—which maintains him as a living martyr, than that which bears him up for an hour in sacrificing himself at the stake.