When a soul beginneth to feel grace work in him, he waxeth then sorry for his sin, and remembreth his great unkindness done against God and in what peril his soul is in; he weepeth and waileth his offence and with great sorrow and lamentation crieth and calleth to God for mercy. Then thus continuing he getteth him to religion, or at leastwise to confession, there purging himself clean from all rust of sin by contrition and penance doing. Anon he feeleth him clean in body and soul and delivered from gnawing of conscience, which is the greatest pain on earth. Then continently he feeleth great sweetness both in reading and prayer and sermons hearing, thinking that this doth all worldly solace exceed, and great comfort he feeleth in that which not long before was full tedious and painful to him.

Gardeners sometimes say that a certain degree of drought strengthens the roots of plants. The grass of a newly growing lawn finding no moisture above the ground in the light and heat of the sun thrusts its roots deeper and deeper into the soil in search of life-giving refreshment. Similarly the soul which is left by God in a dry and waste land abandons the hope of refreshment in the external life of experience and the senses and begins to sink more completely into the reality of God, but in the darkness of the lower soil, in the darkness of faith as opposed to the distinctness of emotional experience.

The first and most pressing application of the principles at issue described in the preceding section, must be concerned with that assent of the human mind which is claimed for the truths revealed. The Catholic Church has always been explicit in affirming that the truths of Christ were dogmas to be accepted by faith. She has consistently corrected those of her members who have ventured to maintain that these dogmas lay within reach of unaided reason. They are to be received by faith, and faith was to be defined as an assent of the mind, not based upon the intrinsic evidence of the truth accepted, but based upon the word of an authority revealing. It was said to Nicodemus: ‘I Say to thee that we speak what we know, and we testify what we nave seen, and you receive not our testimony. If I have spoken to you earthly things and you believe not, how will you believe, if I shall speak to you heavenly things?’ (John 3, 11-2).

The desire to have Holy Writ put into modern terminology and so made easy of apprehension seems reasonable enough, especially since the past century has brought about such a remarkable revolution in manners of life and thought, a change chiefly notable for its departure from the immemorial customs of our fathers. Consequently we no longer find it easy to Understand either the manners or the speech of the past. Add to this the apparent paradox that the easier communication becomes between one people and another, between one part of the world and another, the more narrow-minded and insular we seem to become.

In March 1946 the editors of La Vie Spirituelle printed a questionnaire relative to the recitation of the Divine Office. In January 1947 under the title ‘Lauda Jerusalem Dominum’ they published a summary of the 345 answers received. These were from priests, nuns and the laity most, though not all, of whom were tertiaries. While in most cases replies showed great attachment to the practice, comments on the length and language of the Office—as well as on the attitude of mind of many recitants raise some interesting problems. It was also seen that despite the goodwill shown towards their obligation (priests) or practice (laity), many were far from understanding the Church's end in establishing this. The book therefore includes a valuable chapter, ‘Towards a better understanding of the Office’, setting forth the origin, history and purpose of the breviary and another on the question of Latin.

Martin's father was irked by Martin's lowly profession and the friars agreed with Don Juan that Martin, being lettered and well versed in medicine as well, should be received as a brother-professed.

But because of his humility Martin would not agree to become even a lay-brother, and he never rose above the degree of a donator, a tertiary. The only privilege to which, some fifteen years later, he joyfully assented was to be allowed to take the solemn vows for life whilst he remained a tertiary: this was indeed a rare privilege. During the whole of his religious life Martin wore a white habit with a black cappa or cloak.