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“Don’t you pray?”
“Alas! not so often, and not so well as
you, kind Sister. I used not to believe in
any other God than the God of Mercy. How
could I believe in the God of Wrath—I,
who have been forgiven so much and so
often? Now I have lived to learn to believe
that there is and must be a God of Vengeance
as well. I feel as if I could not live on if
I were to lose my faith in Him. Sœur
Marthe, if I were to pray to-day it is to Him
I would pray:
“Stern God of Israel, whose voice amongst
the thunders and lightnings upon the Mount
made all the people that was in the camp
tremble! Why do you tarry? There is not
one of Your Commandments they have not
trodden under their feet, there is not one of the
gentle messages of pity Your Son gave to the
world that they have not scorned. Is there
not enough broken faith in their torn pledges
to You and to Man, is there not enough blood
on their hands? Are there not enough
homeless children calling out to their fathers, are
there not enough tears in the women’s eyes?
You used to strike hard in the days of old,
avenging God of Judah, at the false prophets
who said their words were Your words!
Why do You remain silent now while they are
calling out that they are the Chosen People of
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