Morning Meditation I: Portrait of a Man Who is but a Short Time Gone into the House of His Eternity
Consider that thou art dust and that thou shalt return to dust. A day will come when thou shalt dies and rot in a grave where os vermes serão a sua cobertura.
Imagine that thou beholdest a person who has just died. Look at that body lying on the bed, the head fallen on the chest, the hair in disorder and still bathed in the sweat of death, the eyes sunk, the cheeks hollow, the face the colour of ashes, the lips and tongue like iron, the body cold and heavy. The beholders grow pale and tremble. How many at the sight of a deceased relative or friend have changed their lives and retired from the world!
Still greater horror will be excited when the body begins to putrify. Twenty-four hours have not elapsed since the death of that young man, and his body already sends forth an offensive smell. The windows must be opened, and to prevent the communication of disease to the entire family, he must soon be transferred to the church and buried in the earth. “If he has been one of the rich and noble of the world, his body shall send forth a more intolerable stench,” says St. Ambrose.
Behold the end of that proud, that lewd, voluptuous man! Before his death, desired and sought after in conversation, and now become and object of horror and disgust to all who behold him! His relatives are in haste to remove him from the house. They hire men to shut him up in a coffin and carry him to the churchyard and throw him into a grave!
O Jesus, my Redeemer, I thank Thee for not having taken me out of life when I was Thy enemy. For how many years have I deserved to be in hell! Had I died on such a day or such a night, what would be my lot for all eternity? Lord, I thank Thee! I accept my death in satisfaction for my sins and I accept it in the manner in which Thou wilt be pleased to send it. But since Thou hast borne with me till now, wait for me a little longer. Permita-me, portanto, lamentar um pouco minha tristeza. – (Job x., 20). Give me time to bewail my offences before Thou dost judge me. I will no longer resist Thy calls. Who knows but the words I have just read may be the last call for me! Behold the penitent traitor who has recourse to Thee. Um coração contrito e humilde, ó Deus, tu não desprezarás. – (Ps. 1., 19).
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