Of all the biblical books that have appeared during recent months, the first one stands out as of particular merit among those we are describing in this note.

Gospel Gleanings, by Thomas Nicklin (Longmans; 2 is.), is in fact a series of very scholarly studies of a number of points which cover most of the field of research in the subject. The sections were written at various times, and now, in the author's old age, have been gathered together into a unity. Many of Mr Nicklin's conclusions have stood the test of time, having been first stated in various articles or lectures, published, unpublished, or privately printed during the last fifty years, but they are now assembled for the study of all. And they are valuable and often new contributions. The Catholic reader is cheered to find these mature fruits of Anglican scholarship presenting the orthodox conclusions that he himself has long been taught, and presenting them with all the apparatus of recent studies.

For those who are of the diocesan clergy, the undisputed authorities must naturally be our Lord himself, St Paul and the Popes: from them we shall seek for the principles of our conduct, and then consider the practical application of those principles to our lives.

Behind the more dramatic features of the history of the Church in England during Elizabeth's reign—threatened military intervention by Phillip of Spain, the excommunication of Elizabeth, the rise and fall of her many suitors and the rather spectral presence of Mary Stuart beyond the northern border—lies the unfailing influence of the missionary priests. It is probably no exaggeration to say that the fact that Catholicism in England did not suffer the fate it has met in the Scandinavian countries is to be attributed to them more than to any other elernent of the Counter-Reformation movement. At a time when the ranks of the old Marian clergy were thinned by death, life imprisonment or banishment and the strength of the Elizabethan administration was concentrated with a particular violence against the priesthood, the Mass and the sacraments, Fr William Allen conceived the idea of founding a seminary at Douai.

Mary, chosen to be the Mother of God; Mary, chosen and therefore fitted by God to be his Mother; Mary, treated ever afterwards by God in accordance with her sanctity, both personal and official; these are the connecting links in the chain of our knowledge of Mary. Just now our attention is directed to the third and final of these links—the definition of her Assumption into heaven. Here, to vary the metaphor, we have not merely a passion for tying up the loose ends of doctrine; what we see is rather the providential climax of a centuries-old process-the vindication of our Lady's place in Christian tradition.

Happily, just as we fix our minds on what may be called her external glories, there is a growing interest in her inner life, namely the devotion to her Immaculate Heart. This is an effort to seek for her personal worth. Here we are in fact studying the choicest fruit of the Redemption, by which and we are saved. One-sided stress ou, e.g., the Assumption, might lead to a dehuroanisation of Mary, just as in earlier days one-sided stress on the divinity of her Son led men to forget and even deny his humanity.

Is it fanciful to see in these three titles combined the summing up of past history, the salving and transforming of the ancient glimpses of Truth; It may be fanciful, but it has an aptness suitable for our purposes. And even if more symbolic than real, the titles apart, Christ did in his Person and teaching sum up the past, even the pagan past.

The world in ancient times seems, speaking broadly, to have been four parted: the Greek world fumbling for truth, the East finding a path to tread, a Way, and the rest seeking survival, the mystery religions; then, quite apart, the little people of the Jews. Christ called himself the Way. The Buddhists and the Confucianists were seeking ways to peace of mind; the first by progressive annihilation of the all or by one's absorption in the All, the beyondnothing; the second by a concentration on manners, on social peace. These Eastern religions or philosophies were concerned with the art of living. They each seem to have begun through the agony of s°ul rising from intense suffering.

If you were to ask each of us, ‘Are you willing to die to yourselves?’ we should all reply sincerely, ‘Yes; we are willing….’ But it is not enough to say or even to think so, for it is possible to deceive ourselves. Dying to ourselves is no theoretical problem composed of abstract thoughts and reasonings; nor does it consist in making resolutions for the morrow which is always later…. It means putting them into practice. To die to ourselves externally is to detach ourselves from all ties, whatever they may be; but this detachment must be complete, whole, lrrevocable, and there must be no looking back. This is going a long way….

All works that have been accomplished so far, not only by men, but by all creation, all that will be accomplished until the end of the world, however great and beautiful, are nothing compared with the smallest action of God's grace in a perfect soul, nothing compared with what such a one can do under the impulse and movement of the Holy Spirit. Indeed, just as much as Almighty God surpasses all creatures, just so much are his works infinitely above all deeds, methods, theories, inventions that could be imagined by all men put together.

The following ideas are thrown out in the hope that they may be useful to those who are attracted to the contemplative life, and who are looking for some kind of groundwork or training for it, either ‘in’ or ‘out’ of religious life.

Ideas of apprenticeship—beginning at the beginning to master the first principles of a subject—are foreign to modern thought, but are nevertheless indispensable to the life of the spirit.

Throughout the centuries, solitude and corporal austerities have always gone hand in hand with the contemplative life. Physical solitude is, however, an impossibility for many, and is, in any case, only a means to acquire the necessary solitude of heart—the precursor of contemplation, while corporal austerities do not cover the whole field of asceticism, and may leave untouched the riot of confusion and disorder within the soul itself. Something more inclusive and positive in the way of preparation and training would seem to be needed to counteract the modern indiscipline of emotion and thought with its curious disdain of the ‘grammar’ of spirituality.

I suppose it is the experience of nearly every priest that in the course of time his outlook on the daily offering of the Mass undergoes a considerable change. At first the thought uppermost in my mind as I say Mass is that what I am doing is very wonderful. It may be because the theology of the Eucharist is still fresh in the memory; but, whatever the reason, the aspect of the Mass that chiefly appeals in those early days is what theologians describe as ex opere operato: I am above all intensely conscious of the marvellous power which God is manifesting in and through myself. At my words bread and wine are changed into the body and blood of Christ, in my person the Word Incarnate is offering himself in sacrifice to his Father. It is with a feeling of awe, almost of fear, that I tremblingly handle the frail host and gaze wonderingly in the chalice at the blood which Christ has shed for me. And this sentiment, mingled with a feeling of exhilaration, which holds me when I realise that I am acting as God's minister in the miracle of transsubstantiation, is so overpowering that I can hardly think of anything else.

Many of our Saints have but a limited appeal, even among the ranks of the faithful; few of them indeed. may be said to have a great following outside the Catholic Church. One thinks of St Vincent de Paul, St John of the Cross, more than any other perhaps St Francis of Assisi. But there is one whose position is quite unique, whose chief works belong to the great classics of human literature, whose influence on Christian thought has never been surpassed, not even by the Angelic Doctor. Augustine is truly the bridge between antiquity and the medieval period; not only was he the most prolific writer of the early Fathers, but also his epoch was one of transition, and violent transition, from the dying age of universal Roman sway to a new age, that of the barbarian peoples. As he lay dying on 28th August, 431, there came to his ears the cries of the Vandal armies laying siege to his episcopal town of Hippo.

This book is an important contribution to the literature of the spiritual and religious life; how important we shall discuss presently. The Foreword tells us that it is a translation of papers read at the Journées d'Etudes by a number of priests, secular and regular, which were later arranged by the Editor of La Vie Spirituelle for the benefit of French religious sisters and published in two volumes under the titles Directoire des Superieures and Les Adaptations de la Vie Religieuse. The former was intended for superiors and the latter for religious women in general. The translation is presented in one volume, with certain modifications of the original which are indicated in the text, and the addition of a very helpful chapter by an English doctor, R. E. Havard, M.D.

There can be little doubt that a book of this kind, which faces many present-day problems with wisdom and courage, is long overdue.

The English Society of the Grail is a secular institute, autonomous and ecclesiastically approved, with its own rules and constitution. Its members are not religious, but laywomen who wish to dedicate their whole lives to work for Christ in the lay apostolate. Those who come to the Society come to an adventurous family.

Any girl can join the Society if she is willing to give herself to Christ to do anything, anywhere and at any time. There is room Hi die Society for girls of every social level and of every occupation, for anyone who wants to tlirow in her lot for life with a society of pioneers and who is prepared to accept die discipline of that Society. For lay institutes must be disciplined and their members be bound together with bonds of steel.

The lay apostolate cannot be driven by any mere transitory enthusiasm—indeed there is a distinct danger for women in any violent and undisciplined enthusiasm and if this is the driving power of an organisation then the life of an apostle cannot last longer than a few years.

If we were truly humble, we should never be astonished to find ourselves giving way to sin. We should indeed be horrified but not surprised. This is one of those things that are so hard, so impossible, to understand. Once we have really begun to try to see what we are like, we recognise ourselves to be the most evil of all creatures. This is no mock humility. At least, we can put it another way round by saying that we know more evil against ourselves than against anyone else. I know others in history or amongst my acquaintances who have done worse things than I, but I cannot say truthfully that they are worse because I do not know. I do not know either their temptations or their conditions of interior life, nor do I know their motives; and until one knows motives one cannot tell whether what was done was sinful or not. The Catholic Church never claims to judge intentions, to judge why people do what they do. She may condemn acts, but never persons in their own consciences: ‘All judgment must be left to the Son’. It follows, then, that I know worse against myself than against anyone else. I know that I am a sinner.