straw from the ground was as grand a service as to
preach to multitudes. “The time of business,” said
he, “does not with me differ from the time of prayer;
and in the noise and clutter of my kitchen, while several
persons are at the same time calling for different
things, I possess God in as great tranquillity as if I were
upon my knees at the blessed sacrament.”
This little book, therefore, seems to me one of the most helpful I know. It fits into the lives of all human beings, let them be rich or poor, learned or unlearned, wise or simple. The woman at her wash-tub, or the stone-breaker on the road, can carry on the “practice” here taught with as much ease and as much assurance of success as the priest at his altar or the missionary in his field of work.
All must feel that anything that brings the religion of Christ within reach of overworked and poverty-stricken humanity, in the midst of its ignorance and its helplessness, is a priceless boon, and this is what Brother Lawrence does. His “practice” requires neither time, nor talents, nor training. At any moment, in the midst of any occupation, under any circumstances, the soul that wants to know God can “practise the presence” and can come to the knowledge. The Lord of hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge, let the “seemings” be what they may; and we need but to recognize this as a continual, ever-present fact, and the inexpressible sweetness to which Brother Lawrence attained will become ours.
London, 1897.
