“O Jesu, beloved, fairer than the sons of men, draw me after Thee with the cords of Thy love.”

“Blessed are Thou, O most merciful God, who didst vouchsafe to espouse me to the heavenly Bridegroom in the waters of baptism, and hast imparted Thy body and blood as a new gift of espousal and the meet consummation of Thy love.”

“O most sweet Lord Jesu, transfix the affections of my inmost soul with that most joyous and most healthful wound of Thy love, with true, serene, most holy, apostolical charity; that my soul may ever languish and melt with entire love and longing for Thee.  Let it desire Thee and faint for Thy courts; long to be dissolved and be with Thee.”

“Oh, that I could embrace Thee with that most burning love of angels.”

“Let Him kiss me with the kisses of His mouth; for Thy love is better than wine.  Draw me, we will run after Thee.  The king hath brought me into his chambers....  Let my soul, O Lord, feel the sweetness of Thy presence.  May it taste how sweet Thou art....  May the sweet and burning power of Thy love, I beseech Thee, absorb my soul.”

All girls have in them the germ of passion, and the line of its development depends on the character brought into the world, and the surrounding influences of education.  I had but two ideals in my childhood and youth, round whom twined these budding tendrils of passion; they were my mother and the Christ.  I know this may seem strange, but I am trying to state things as they were in this life-story, and not give mere conventionalisms, and so it was.  I had men friends, but no lovers—­at least, to my knowledge, for I have since heard that my mother received two or three offers of marriage for me, but declined them on account of my youth and my childishness—­friends with whom I liked to talk, because they knew more than I did; but they had no place in my day-dreams.  These were more and more filled with the one Ideal Man, and my hopes turned towards the life of the Sister of Mercy, who ever worships the Christ, and devotes her life to the service of His poor.  I knew my dear mother would set herself against this idea, but it nestled warm at my heart, for ever that idea of escaping from the humdrum of ordinary life by some complete sacrifice lured me onwards with its overmastering fascination.

Now one unlucky result of this view of religion is the idealisation of the clergyman, the special messenger and chosen servant of the Lord.  Far more lofty than any title bestowed by earthly monarch is that patent of nobility straight from the hand of the “King of kings,” that seems to give to the mortal something of the authority of the immortal, and to crown the head of the priest with the diadem that belongs to those who are “kings and priests unto God.”  Viewed in this way, the position of the priest’s wife seems second only to that of the nun, and has, therefore, a wonderful attractiveness, an attractiveness in which the particular clergyman affected plays a