A good man meditating upon this passage, and taking it too literally, fell
into a perfect agony, saying to himself: "Alas! how many times a day, then,
must not I, who am _not_ just, fall?" Yet during his evening examination of
conscience, however closely and carefully he searched, and however much
he was on the watch during the day to observe his failings and faults, he
sometimes could not make up the number. Greatly troubled and perplexed
about this, he carried his difficulties to our Blessed Father, who settled
them in this way:
"In the passage which you have quoted," he said, "we are not told that the
just man sees or feels himself fall seven times a day, but only that he
does fall seven times, and that he raises himself up again without paying
any heed to his so doing. Do not then distress yourself; humbly and frankly
confess what you have observed of faulty in yourself, and what you do not
see, leave to the sweet mercy of Him who puts out His hand to prevent those
who fall without malice, from being jarred or bruised against the hard
ground; and who raises them up again so quickly and gently that they never
notice it nor are conscious of having so much as fallen."
The great imperfection of most of us proceeds from want of reflection, but,
on the other hand, there are many who think overmuch, who fall into the
mistake of too close self-inspection, and who are perpetually fretting over
their failings and weaknesses.
Blessed Francis writes again on the subject: "It is quite certain that as
long as we are imprisoned in this heavy and corruptible body there will
always be something wanting in us. I do not know whether I have already
told you that we must have patience with every one; and, first of all, with
ourselves. For since we have learnt to distinguish between the old Adam
and the new, between the outward man and the inward, we are really more
troublesome to ourselves than any of our neighbours."