The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1909-10-02
"LlttIe Children, Love One Another.

SO spoke the beloved disciple long
ago. The words are music in the ear
and melody in the heart today. They
are the fragrant breath of charity and
charity never falleth away.
St John was then an old man; his
voice was weak and his eye was dim.
Sunday after Sunday he would preach
the same old sermon, Little children,
love one another" The more thought
less of his disciples complained and
clamored for something new. st. John
only said with more exquisite tender
ness, Little children, love one an
other" Then he explained to them
that he who loveth his neighbor hath
fulfilled the Law. He told them that
this pithy, pregnant sermon was
caught from the lips Of the great Vic
tim of love"
The Divine Child knew what was in
man. He knew that the eloquence
which it is not in man to resist, an
eloquence more fascinating than ever
fell from tongue of man or angel, is the
cry from the heart Of a child. Hence
it is that He emptied Himself. taking
the form Of an infant. He could have
had ten legions of angels bowling be-
fore His gorgeous throne; instead His
peasant mother wrapped Him in swad-
ding clothes and laid His in a
y.
He cried with them and He cried
alone; with them He cried as the pitt
less biting air stung His tender, deli
cate flesh, and He cried alone because
the chilly atmosphere of uncharitable-
ness cut Him to the hearts core, and
His cry had little anger and much sor-
row, and its burden runneth thus:
Little children, love one another"
1t is hard to forget the cruel and the
L L
is hard to break the cold chain of
silence forged by neglect; it is hard to
pluck the deep roots Of an old cher
ished grudge from the heart. We have
tried to wrench the ravenous, cancer
Gus root; we have tried to break the
chain that clanks so harshly; we have
tried to erase the corroding word - but
the word still burns and the iron of
the chain repains in the blood and the
foul cancer feeds fat on the vitals of
our peace. Now is the acceptable time.
Now is the day Of salvation
Let all the bitterness and pickering
be put away with all malice, especially
from the home. Homes were our first
churches; households our first congre- !
cations, and in the beginning God |
made the father of the family the fam |
ily's priest. The hearthstone was /
sacred as the altar. These memories |
still cling to the home Anger is as |
unseemly there as it would be at the |
altar. When we were boys our mothers |
used to quell our quarrels by the music |
Of a nursery rhyme that is not without
reason:
Birds in their little nests agree,
And it's a shameful sight,
When children Of one family
Fall out and chide and fight"
A friend should bear a friends in
FIRMLY. Charity is patient, is kind, is
not moved to anger. Have you not
love enough to bear with me when that
rash humor which my mother gave me
makes me forgetful?" Anger which
resteth in the bosom Of a fool is a
it returneth to plague its
father. Conceit is worse than con-
but it is easier to live with
the conceited than with the angry man
or woman either. Conceit is a brand
Of insanity a congenital imbecility that
is as incurable and as harmless as a
robust wart on the apex of a mans
nose. But anger is q naked nerve, a
i've wire. nitroglycerine pill. 1t is a
case of touch and CO." 1t makes the
home a powder magazine. You may
wear a divers rubber suit, but you
can't duck the shooting sparks, thick
as summer flies, that dart from the
eyes Of the anger ridden. When the
art of self-defense has caught up to the
lrt of offensive warfare all spitfires
will be kindly, but firmly segregated.
md gently compelled to live together
in peace in fertile. but fortified
ar off island. Meanwhile a sense Of
lumor, If developed, would be the
handmade of charity as a specific for
,iliousness. A wet hen too dense to
PRODIGY compared to the fire-eating
,eace hater. blind bull butting
lay stack is a model Of well poised s
elf-control compared to the son or
laughter Of Eve who frets and flares !
,ecauses a mosquito plies its legitimate
-ocation. In this matter of mutual
harity there is a time to speak and
in1e to keep silent. Silence. like soil d d
ude. is often the mother country Of the
trong; sometimes it is a bowling
taste: the playground Of savage beasts
nd vicious demons, Silence can cut q i'