As the moth is attracted to the light, is drawn ever nearer to the warmth and brightness, until at length with irresistible longing it casts itself into the flame, so the Sacred Heart draws us to Itself by Its love. We are warm by the fervour of Its affection, dazzled by Its brilliancy. We come to realize the extent of that love, its foolish excesses; it bursts upon us that all this is a personal love for me. Jesus has won the victory. The fluttering little moth surrenders completely and hurls itself into that furnace of love. The rest is easy. Sin ceases; imperfection becomes hateful, more hateful than former sin; a spirit of sacrifice, a longing for self-immolation springs up.