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TWENTY-FIFTH DAY

One of the saddest facts of life is that the living so soon forget the dead. We forget when we
live: we are forgotten when we die.
St. Monica, on her deathbed, pleaded with her son, St Augustine: "Lay my body anywhere, only
this I beg of you: remember me at the altar of God."

Prayer: Our Father, 3 Hail Marys, Gloria, De Profundis.

Most merciful Jesus, lover of Souls. We pray Thee, by the agony of Thy most Sacred Heart, and by
the sorrows of Thy Immaculate Mother, wash with Thy Blood the Souls in Purgatory. Deliver them
from their pains, that they may join the Heavenly Chorus in praising Thee and interceding for us at
the hour of need.