Torches From God

“We are always ready to make a saint or prophet of the educated man who goes into cottages to give a little kindly advice to the uneducated. The mediaeval saint or prophet was an uneducated man who walked into grand houses to give a little kindly advice to the educated.”

G. K. Chesterton

 

All Saints Day reminds us of all those holy men and women whom God, in His infinite mercy, sends us as torches to light our path in a dark world.  Filled with God’s love and grace, they make golden the pages of our histories with their lives and witness.  Feeling the lure of sin just as much as any of us, they turned to God and reflected His love to us.  They come in all sorts of humanity:  men and women, all nationalities, wise, simple, warriors, pacifists, miracle workers, saints whose only miracle was their life, humorous, humorless, clergy, laity, old, young, united only in their Faith and their love for the Highest Love.

It is too easy as we go about our prosaic lives to forget the Ultimate Reality that the saints clearly see.  May we, with them, one day behold that Ultimate Reality in the face, in the Beatific Vision.

The gates of heaven are lightly locked,
We do not guard our gain,
The
heaviest hind may easily
Come silently and suddenly
Upon me in a
lane.

“And any little maid that walks
In good thoughts apart,
May
break the guard of the Three Kings
And see the dear and dreadful things
I
hid within my heart.

“The meanest man in grey fields gone
Behind the
set of sun,
Heareth between star and other star,
Through the door of the
darkness fallen ajar,
The council, eldest of things that are,
The talk of
the Three in One.

“The gates of heaven are lightly locked,
We do not
guard our gold,
Men may uproot where worlds begin,
Or read the name of the
nameless sin;
But if he fail or if he win
To no good man is
told.

“The men of the East may spell the stars,
And times and triumphs
mark,
But the men signed of the cross of Christ
Go gaily in the
dark.

“The men of the East may search the scrolls
For sure fates and
fame,
But the men that drink the blood of God
Go singing to their
shame.

“The wise men know what wicked things
Are written on the
sky,
They trim sad lamps, they touch sad strings,
Hearing the heavy purple
wings,
Where the forgotten seraph kings
Still plot how God shall
die.

“The wise men know all evil things
Under the twisted
trees,
Where the perverse in pleasure pine
And men are weary of green
wine
And sick of crimson seas.

“But you and all the kind of
Christ
Are ignorant and brave,
And you have wars you hardly win
And
souls you hardly save.

G. K. Chesterton

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