me? Was I not poor and naked when I came into the world? Yet I am not destitute; I am bringing something very good with me; namely, my profit, the merits I have gained during my life; my good conscience comes with me; I have a document in my hand which entitles me to an eternal inheritance. And, moreover, what I was never sure of before and what was always wanting to make my joy complete, I am now about to place my treasure in perfect safety, without fear or danger of ever losing it.
To his great joy. Shown by similes. As long as I lived I was like the soldier on the battle-field, who has to defend himself against the assaults of his enemy, and knows not how he will come out of the affray. Now I see the enemies of my soul take to flight on all sides; now the day is mine, and I have only to receive the crown of victory. As long as 1 have lived and served my God I was like a well-laden ship, sailing on with a fair wind, but still in a dangerous sea, having often to contend with the tossing waves and howling storms; now I am about to enter the haven of security. A philosopher was once asked what was the safest kind of ship, a small or a large one, a ship of war or a merchant vessel, a racing ship or a ship of burden. “The safest of all,” he answered, “is the one that lies uninjured in harbor.” His meaning was that no ship, no matter of what kind, could be safe on the high seas; for it is always in danger of striking a rock, or running on a sand-bank, or foundering in a gale. So it is with us, my dear brethren. While we are on this earth we embark like traders with our merchandise on a stormy and dangerous sea; there are temptations, assaults, thieves and robbers without number that seek nothing but to rob us of our innocence and holiness. “We have to fight with avarice, with lust, with anger, with ambition,”[1] says St. Cyprian. The devil with his satellites lies in wait for us like a cruel pirate, to lead us into sin, and drag us down with him into hell. No matter how holy and pious we may be, if we once consent to a mortal sin, all our treasure, all our holiness is gone; nor are we certain of escaping that danger until we land on the shore of eternity, that is, until the hour of our death. St. Ambrose, speaking of those words of St. Paul, “To me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain,”[2] says: “It is a gain to be beyond the danger of sinning any more.”[3] This gain is the lot of the just man when he is at the point of death; for death changes all fear into secur-
