Friends at Court

New Zealand Tablet, 23 August 1917, Page 3

Friends at Court

GLEANINGS FOR NEXT WEEK’S CALENDAR August 26, Sunday. —Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, ~ 27, Monday. —St. Joseph Calasanctius, Confessor. ~ 28, Tuesday. — St. Augustine, Bishop, Confessor, and Doctor. ~ 29, Wednesday.—Beheading of St. John the Baptist. ~ 30, Thursday.—St. Rose of Lima, Virgin. ~ 31, Friday. —St. Raymund Nonnatus, Confessor. September 1, Saturday. —St. Giles, Abbot. St. Augustine, Bishop, Confessor, and Doctor. St. Augustine was born in Algeria, in 354. In spite of the watchful care of his mother, St. Monica, he gave himself up in his youth to many excesses. When he was thirty-three years of age the prayers of his pious mother at length obtained for him the grace of a complete conversion. During the remainder of his life he endeavored to undo the evil which his teaching and example had wrought. He composed, in defence of the faith, a long series of treatises, which have rendered his name illustrious throughout the world as one of the most profound, ingenious, and prolific writers that have adorned the Church of God. During thirtyfive years he governed the See of Hippo, in Africa, and showed himself endowed with all the virtues which form the character of a perfect Christian Bishop, lie died in 430, at the age of 76,. St. Raymund Nonnatus, Confessor. According to the rule laid down by Christ, that Christian proves himself His most faithful disciple, and gives the surest proof of his love of God, who most perfectly loves his neighbor for God’s sake. Judged by this test of true sanctity, St. Raymund should rank high amongst the saints. Born in Spain in 1204, he gave, not only all his property, but his liberty, and even exposed himself to the most cruel torments, and risked his very life, in order to promote the spiritual welfare and secure the release of Christians held in captivity by the Moors. After a life wholly spent in the service of his neighbor, he died near Barcelona in 1240. GRAINS OF GOLD. FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT. Prune thou thy words, the thoughts control That o’er thee swell and throng ; They will condense within thy soul, And change to purpose strong. But he who lets his feeling run In soft luxurious flow, Shrinks when hard service must be done And faints at every woe. Faith’s meanest deed more favor bears, Where hearts and wills are weighed, Than brightest transports, choicest -prayers, Which bloom their hour and fade. —Cardinal Newman. REFLECTIONS. There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the marks of weakness, but of power. They are the messages of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love. Witty sayings are as easily lost as the pearls slipping off a broken string; but a word of kindness is seldom spoken in vain. It is a seed which, even when dropped by chance, springs up into a flower.