Consider, secondly, the infinite obligations we lie under to the sacred heart of Jesus for the love he bears us, and for the inestimable gift he bestows on us in himself in the blessed sacrament of the altar. We ought to be ever grateful, ever mindful of so great a favour; and yet how few are there who ever think of it; how few who ever return him thanks for it. How happy should we be, if, incapable as we are of offering him any thing which is not infinitely inferior to what he has done for us, we knew how to benefit by his goodness, which induces him to be satisfied with the sincere offering up to him of our own hearts and yet by a monstrous ingratitude we refuse even to grant him what he asks, when it is not in our power to grant him what he deserves.
I am penetrated with confusion and sorrow, my amiable Jesus! when I reflect that I have hitherto lived so forgetful of thy benefits, and so careless in returning thee my thanks. It grieves me to think how unjust I have been in refusing thee my wretched heart. Alas!
