them."[1] A terrible characteristic of this hunger is that it is increased by the gratifications which are meant to appease it. The poisoned cup of this world kindles in the hearts of the wicked a fire to which pleasures only add renewed heat. Is it strange that they are consumed by a burning thirst? Unhappy man! whence is it that you thirst so cruelly, if it be not that you "have forsaken the fountain of living waters, and sought broken cisterns which can hold no water"?[2] You have mistaken the source of happiness. You wander in a wilderness, and, therefore, you faint with hunger and thirst. When Holofernes besieged Bethulia he cut off the aqueducts, leaving to the besieged but a few little streams which served only to moisten their lips. The besieged city is an image of your condition. You have cut yourselves off from the source of living waters, and you find in creatures the little springs which may moisten your lips, but, far from allaying your thirst, will only increase it.
The blindness and vehemence of our desires often make us long for what we cannot possibly obtain; and when, after violent efforts, the object of our pursuit cludes our grasp, anger is added to our disappointment, and both combine to throw us into a state of confusion. This gives rise to that internal warfare mentioned by St. James when he asks: "Whence are wars and contentions among you? Are they not from your concupiscences, which war in your members? You covet, and have not."[3] An-
