The Sacred Heart glows with love for those who strive to make others know and appreciate this beautiful devotion. The heart is the symbol of human love and the Divine Heart of Christ is the symbol of the boundless love of Our Savior for men. To those who are devoted to His Sacred Heart, Christ promises special marks of His love and He will bestow a large blessing on all their work for souls!

"I will give to priests the gift of touching the most hardened hearts." Every priest who has been zealous in making known the richness of the Sacred Heart can tell how this promise has been fulfilled in his work. One instance, especially, stands out in my own memory:

It was a wild winter's night. A freezing wind was driving a heavy fall of snow in a blinding whirl down the street and full into my face as I struggled on through mounting drifts tot he great hospital. The white-robed nurse, a non-Catholic, met me at the door of the contagious ward. Though not then of our Holy Faith, it must have been her solicitude for the spiritual welfare of our Catholic dying that brought her later the grace to enter the One True Church.

She helped me out of my heavy, wet coat and into the long white gown worn by all who entered the contagious pavilion. " Father, I am sorry to bring you out on a night like this, especially as I fear that you will not do much for this tramp who is dying. When I spoke of calling you, he cursed me violently."
"Which bed is it?" I asked, as I buttoned up the long white gown and put my stole over my shoulders. "Alcove 16, fortunately, there is no other patient there."
I walked slowly to Alcove 16. It was not with presumptuous confidence in my own powers that I faced this battle for a human soul. It was with a prayer:
"Sweet Heart of Jesus, You have promised to give to Your priests, if they strive to be devout to Your Sacred Heart, the gift of touching the most hardened hearts. I must trust to Your grace and not to my words to win this soul."

I was at Alcove 16. There was no doubt about it. A pair of sunken, though flashing eyes, glared at me from a dark, emaciated face. "Who asked you to come here? When I want you or one of your kind, I'll let you know." I spoke kindly to him, but he replied angrily: "You priests only want money, money, money. It is only money, money! Get out of here."  With a fervent inward prayer to the Sacred Heart, I answered gently" "Money? You have no money to give me. You are dying with a contagious disease, with a disease that people dread. When the doctor comes in, he stands there at the foot of your bed because he fears the contagion. When the nurse comes, she stands there too. Now, I am a priest and you say that I want only money!"

Was it an inspiration from the Sacred Heart that made me slide my right arm under his pillow and then hold his head in my arms? "Why are you taking this foolish chance of getting my disease?" "Foolish chance? Because, as a priest. I want your soul. It is a chance that every priest will take to win your soul for God. You spoke of money. Your soul is more precious than all the money in the world." And, then, I asked him point by point the story of his life. I told him of the mercy of God, and that I had brought Christ with me to strengthen him to meet death calmly, like the repentant thief on Calvary, sorrowful for the past and trusting in God's promised mercy and love.

The Sacred Heart fulfilled His Promise, and I heard his Confession. As I turned to give him the Body of Jesus Christ, his eyes were riveted upon the uplifted Host, and there were tears in those sunken eyes, tears of sorrow for the past. "Receive, brother, the Viaticum of the Body of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, and may He guard you from the malignant enemy, and lead you to life everlasting." Before I left, I blessed my own rosary beads and gave them to him to help him to keep near Mother Mary. As I was leaving the ward, the nurse was at the door with carbolic soap, and a towel for disinfecting. "Father, when will you priests learn that you must not go unnecessarily close to contagious patients? I saw you tonight hold that vagabond's head on your arm. You must never do such a foolish, dangerous thing again."

I laughed gaily at her scolding, and as I went out into the driving, blinding snow, I found myself singing aloud with joy an old shepherd's song, for another stray sheep had come back to the fold.

Source: A priest- Ave Maria Magazine.