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 had both sternly denounced the evils in the Church. "The insolence of the Clergy," says St. Bernard, "troubles the earth, and molests the Church. The Bishops give what is holy to the dogs, and pearls to swine." But the poor beguine, Mechthild, was not in the same powerful position to stay, or even to modify, the resentment which her attacks occasioned. " or more than twenty years was I bound with thee on a hideous gridiron," she writes, likening her anguish to that of St. Lawrence. Nevertheless solace came to her troubled spirit, for, having been warned that it had been said of her writings that they deserved to be burnt, she tells how she prayed to God, as had been her wont when in trouble, and that He told her not to mistrust her powers, since they were from Him, and that no one can burn the Truth.

In many passages Mechthild dwells on the clergy, and her reflections—some very practical, others, to those not versed in symbolism, very quaint—seem to suggest how grievously lacking she considered them to be. Writing in God's name to a canon, she begins by saying that we should, in common with all men, give thanks to our Heavenly Father for the Divine gift which day by day, and without ceasing, pours forth from the Holy Trinity into sinful hearts, and then she quaintly adds, "For that it soars so high, the Eagle owes no thanks to the Owl." Furthermore, she calls upon the priest to pray more, to pay his debts in full, and to live