A certain hermit, who had lived for many years in great reputation for sanctity, began at length to entertain dangerous thoughts of vanity. Not that he was vain in his appearance, but he began to feel proud about how virtuous he was. In seeing the spiritual progress in his soul, he became ensnared in the deadly and dangerous lie that he was responsible for his virtue, forgetting that "Without Christ, we can do no good thing."

Filled with these temptations, the hermit was setting out one morning to visit a neighboring Church, when he noticed, seated on the banks of the river which flowed past his little cell, a poor man, who seemed to be weeping bitterly. On approaching him, the hermit realized that the afflicted man was a notorious robber, the terror of the surrounding country. The hermit was about to retrace his steps, when the man went up towards him, threw himself at his feet, confessed his crimes, and begged to know if he might ever hope for pardon. The hermit, astonished and shocked at hearing the recital of so many enormous sins from the robber, and comparing them with his own innocent and blameless life, began to swell with pride, and, in tones of indignation, exclaimed "Do you hope for pardon, you wicked sinner?" Then, with a shake of his walking stick, he added, "Sooner will roses bloom upon this dry staff than a just God grant forgiveness to such sins as yours!" So saying, he turned away, leaving the poor sinner on the brink of despair.

Indignant and disgusted, the hermit hurried away from the despicable criminal. Suddenly his rapid steps came to an abrupt halt. His walking stick had become rooted in the ground! The hermit’s impatience turned to anxiety when, though he endeavored to pull it out, the dry staff resisted all his efforts, and with every passing moment, became more firmly rooted in the soil.

Then he watched bud, and leaf, and flower sprouting out, until at last the dry stick was laden with beautiful roses; and at the same time he heard a voice whispering "Sooner shall roses bloom on the barren staff than a good God refuse mercy to the repenting sinner, or grant it to the proud one." Filled with shame and contrition, the hermit fell on his knees, and, with many tears, begged God pardon for his sin.

Then, rising from his knees, he once more endeavored to free his staff. This time it yielded to his grasp, and, bearing it in his hand, the humbled hermit returned in haste to the spot where he had left the robber.

"See, brother," he said, showing him the staff all covered with roses, "The wonder which God has worked to convince me of my fault, and you of His tender mercy. Fear not, then, that God would refuse to pardon you. In the Church He has left an abundant fountain of grace, His Precious Blood, in which the sinner who sincerely repents may wash away the blackest crimes."

With awe-filled eyes, the thief stared at the beautiful and miraculous flowers. The hermit too looked at the delicate and incredible signs of God’s mercy. Then, turning to his repentant friend, he said quite gently, "Come, then, with me to my cell, that together we may avail ourselves of this means of grace, and bewail our sins for the rest of our lives."

Much comforted, the robber dried his tears, and followed the hermit to his cell. Here they planted the staff before the door, and it grew into a beautiful tree, the sight of which served as a continual encouragement to persevere in a spirit of humility, and firm hope in the Mercy of God.