Let us put before our eyes the theatre of the
universe: let us wander everywhere: all things supply us with an
argument. Let us go to heaven: let us contemplate roses and
lilies, Saints empurpled with martyrdom or white with innocence:
Roman Pontiffs, I say, three and thirty in a continuous line put
to death: Pastors all the world over, who have pledged their
blood for the name of Christ: Flocks of faithful, who have
followed in the footsteps of their Pastors: all the Saints of
heaven, who as shining lights in purity and holiness have gone
before the crowd of mankind. You will find that these were ours
when they lived on earth, ours when they passed away from this
world. To cull a few instances, ours was that Ignatius, who in
church matters put no one not even the Emperor, on a level with
the Bishop; who committed to writing, that they might not be
lost, certain Apostolic traditions of which he himself had been
witness. Ours was that anchoret Telesphorus, who ordered the
more strict observance of the fast of Lent established by the
Apostles. Ours was Irenaeus, who declared the Apostolic faith by
the Roman succession and chair (lib. iii.
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