Let faith be for us, then, like the first day on which we believers are separated from unbelievers, as light from darkness. Let hope be the second day: through it, dwelling in the heavens and through the merits of faith hoping only for things above the heavens, with God urging us on, we are distinguished from those who, relishing what is upon earth and importuning God for only earthly things, flood and ebb like waters under the firmament of heaven. Let temperance dawn on us like the third day on which, while we mortify our bodies on earth and restrain within necessary limits concupiscences of the flesh like the most brackish waters, the parched and waterless soil of our hearts emerges, thirsting for the Lord God. At last, like the light of the fourth day, let prudence burst forth. By prudence let us distinguish, as between day and night, what we should and should not do. With its help let the light of wisdom shine like the splendor of the sun, and let the light of spiritual knowledge, which waxes in some of us or wanes in others, appear like the beauty of the moon. Through prudence also let the devout mind gaze at the examples of our forefathers as at clusters of stars, and through it mark division between days and years, months and hours . . . Charity, the consummation of all virtues, the agreeable refreshment of holy souls, the virtuous harmony of our conduct. This is the root from which all good works spring so that they may be good, and in which all good works are perfected. This is the seventh day on which divine grace refreshes us, the seventh month in which, after the deluge of temptations, the arc of the heart gently comes to rest. Temperance protects it, prudence keeps watch over it, fortitude fights for it, and justice is its servant.
Aelred of Riveaulx, The Mirror of Charity, I.32.90 and 92 (CF 17, p. 142-144)