a will to repent? Perhaps he was once an innocent boy, a youth of many hopes, a quick learner, a promising seminarist, a priest full of early aspirations and sincere intentions and good resolutions. But there was a flaw in the heart—some sin of the flesh or of the spirit, some passion or some pride. It was, perhaps, known and resisted, long kept down; in an evil hour of opportunity, facility, fascination, weakness, and strong temptation the lurking enemy mastered his will, and the priest became a slave. Many years ran on; many falls, returns, and relapses; many seasons and means of conversion lost or taken from him by the sin or folly of others; and the root became ineradicable, and conscience at last was silent. Then came the end. Recordare Jesu pie, quod sum causa tuæ viæ, ne me perdas illa die.
2. Next, there is the death of a careless priest. He has had only one enemy, but the worst enemy of all, treacherous, ubiquitous, and ever about him—that is, himself; an easy, yielding, indolent will. He has made no enemies, for he has not been in earnest enough about anything to offend anybody. All men speak well of him. The character of priesthood has in him no visible and unmistakable outline. He is a welcome visitor, a pleasant companion, a ready and amusing guest; read up in the newspapers,
