seem to refresh and reanimate the whole world before
their eyes:

"And what I saw seemed even as a smile.
Irradiating all the universe...."
(Dante's _Paradiso_, Canto XXVII.)

One of the most singular cases of conversion I ever heard described
was the following: A monk, famous for his oratorical gifts, was
preaching in a crowded church to a congregation which was listening to
him with devout admiration. Suddenly he was interrupted by a loud sob,
and a man in the crowd cried aloud, stretching out his hands towards
the pulpit: "I am a great sinner!" The monk, as is usual in such
cases, came to the help of the convert, and received all the
outpourings of that soul, as it stripped itself of the evil which had
been corroding it. Then, curious to know what argument had touched the
heart of this man, he asked him what part of the sermon had specially
borne upon the prodigy. "Ah!" answered the convert, "I never heard a
single word of what you were saying; I entered the church without
knowing why; at that moment you pointed your finger at me
emphatically. Yes, it is true, I cried, I am a sinner, and I felt as
if a heavy cloak of lead which had been oppressing me had fallen from
my shoulders; then an uncontrollable flood of tears rose from my
heart." Thus no intellectual element played any part in this
conversion; it was not a "conviction," nor even new "knowledge," which
had acted; what had happened was purely a spontaneous phenomenon of
the conscience, which, perhaps after an unconscious preparation,
divided the light from the darkness and initiated the creation of the
new man.

The convert feels more clearly than any other that evil is an
"obstacle" to a form of enjoyment higher than the loftiest enjoyments
man can taste. He has not only been purified, but his purification has
transformed him. He is like a diamond embedded in dross and mire which
is suddenly separated from the overlying substances, and brought to
the surface, clear and brilliant; it is not only a purified and
magnificent stone; what really transforms it is the sun, which can now
be reflected in it and make it sparkle. This is the unsuspected
splendor which is added to it naturally, and has nothing to do either
with the dross that has been removed, or with the intrinsic qualities
of the gem. The dross not only defiled it, but prevented it from
encountering the rays which should give it its characteristic beauty.

All devout persons know t