“his heart was full of love to them all, that he desired to embrace them all, and carry them all bodily into the bosom of the holy church. But as this however would require the strength of a Samson, and he had it not, therefore he embraced them with his heart, with his good-will, bade them respond to, and follow him to—the Saviour.”
After these words, rhetorically expressed, but with little emphasis, he took up a crucifix, raised it aloft, and went, attended by two priests with candles, singing hymns, at the head of the crowd, which followed him, like a flock of sheep. I followed also. The procession proceeded in the moonlight night, to a small, very old church, dedicated to St. George, where lights were burning on the altar, and a priest stood ready to address the people. I seated myself, and he preached about true repentance, with very many striking and very intelligible illustrations, exhorting to confession—“honest, sincere confession”—“the father-confessor would, every day from this time, and this evening also, be ready to receive confession in this church, and to grant absolutions”—and he closed his discourse with a powerful representation of heaven and hell, which he screamed forth with all his might, with great gesticulation, and a strong voice. The audience, these two or three hundred men and youths, more like savages and robbers than Christian people, listened nevertheless with deep silence, and all united in singing the Litany after the sermon.
But I must ask myself, what is the use of a few segregated good sermons; what is the use of these spiritual draughts of the net, when the education of
- Vol. II.—19
