hen received he never ceased to guard and cherish, and other
blessings were added to it, for God has promised, "To him that hath it
shall be given." And God gave liberally, good measure, pressed down, and
running over. But the gifts which were Francis are ours too, by right of
grace Divine--to be had for the faithful seeking, and kept by pure,
faithful, and obedient living--"Called to be saints." The few? One here
and there in every century? Oh, no. "Called to be saints," are the
myriad souls who have received the Divine touch of regeneration. This is
the calling and election of the redeemed; but oh, how few there are that
make them _sure_!

Five years had now elapsed since that spring morning, when, weak and
ill from fever, Francis dragged himself out of doors, to look again on
the glorious landscape that he thought would bring him health and
healing. The story of his disappointment we have already told. During
those five years Francis made gigantic strides in heavenly wisdom and
knowledge, and we feel that we cannot do better than to pause in our
narrative and try to give you some idea of the spiritual personality
of the man, whose name even now the people were beginning to couple
with that of "saint."

In appearance Francis was a thorough Italian. He was rather below than
over the ordinary height, his eyes and hair were dark, and his bearing
free and gracious. He was chiefly remarkable for his happy, joyous
expression. This he never lost: even when illness had robbed him of
his good looks, the light in his eyes, and the smile on his lips were
always the same.

[Sidenote: _Holy Boldness._]

The most striking points of Francis' character are, perhaps, his
humility, his sincerity, and his childlike simplicity. Humble Francis
was not by nature. There was nothing in his training to make him so,
and everything that would tend to the growth of pride and arrogance.
But, with his conversion, humility became one of his strongest
convictions. He truly considered himself less than the least, and he
held it to be an offence against God if he ever let himself, or his
little feelings and prejudices, stand in the way of accomplishing what
he believed to be for the extension of the Kingdom. It seemed as
though he had no feelings to be hurt. What most people would call
justifiable sensitiveness, Francis would call sin. He went straight to
the mark, and if he did not accomplish all he wanted to at first, he
simply tried again, and