In nothing does the church of God manifest the divinity of her origin and mission more than in the care which she bestows on her children, the adopted brethren of Jesus Christ, at the awful hour of death.  She reserves all her good things for this her last service to her children.  She sends her keys there, to the bedside of the dying man, to open to him the gate to the calm and peaceful walks of justification.  She sends her oils thither, too, to anoint the Christian gladiator for his last and final struggle with his powerful enemies.  She sends her divine manna, to strengthen him and sustain him for the trying and unknown journey; and she sends the music of her sweet hymns and litanies to cheer him on, and the light of indulgences and benedictions to guide his soul, illumine his understanding, and shed the rays of their heavenly reflection on the difficult passage that he has to traverse.  And this food, these blessings, gifts, and graces, she has ready for all repentant sinners without exception, be they the inmates of the true fold, or straying without the boundaries of the city of God; be they the timorous souls who are already washed, or the negligent, who have followed the hard ways of the world.  If, in her other functions, the spouse of Christ is “terrible as an army set in array,” “fair as the moon, and beautiful as the setting sun,” in this, her last office at the death bedside, she is all mercy, tenderness, and goodness.  O, how cold, selfish, and intolerable would life be, if the Catholic church was not present, on all occasions, with the graces, blessings, and consolations of Christ!

“O Lord, if it be thy will, deprive us of every thing—­riches, health, renown, pleasure; but never leave thy creatures, thy inheritance, thy children, without the consolations of thy church!  O Lord, the many sheep that are here not of thy fold gather and bring in speedily, that there may be but one fold and one Shepherd, as thou thyself hast foretold.”  Thus prayed this pious priest of God, after having added another strayed sheep to the fold of his divine Master; and his soul was at peace.

For two days the storm continued unabated, the whole country becoming like an undulating ocean of snow.  Drift snow, mountain high, was accumulated in the valleys between hills; whole herds of sheep and cattle were suffocated; and the bodies of several teamsters, whose teams were overset, were dug out lifeless from under the drifts by the men who had assembled with their ox teams and shovels to open the interrupted communication with the city.

Father O’Shane bemoaned his fate in doleful terms; the more so as Sunday was approaching, when he feared he should be absent from his congregation; and he also regretted that he had it not in his power, according to his promise to the widow O’Clery, to visit her next day, and provide for her poor orphans among the benevolent of his flock.  And, well aware of the character of the hard-hearted Van Stingey, he shuddered for the fate of the children.