A TABLE OF THE THINGS CONTAINED

IN THIS TREATISE.

CHAPTER I.

YOU desire of me, beloved Brother Odo, a spiritual mirror or looking-glass, wherein you may behold yourself, and exactly see both your beauty and deformity. This request of yours is somewhat strange. Certainly, I think that you know me not; for if you did, whence doth it happen, that you request a spiritual thing of a carnal man? Nevertheless, lest I might seem to neglect, or rather to contemn your request, behold I send what our penury hath been able to afford you. Accept therefore of this short instruction, by reading whereof you may peradventure slenderly learn what you are, what you are not, or certainly what you ought to be.

First and foremost, therefore, I admonish you often and seriously to consider the end of your coming into your monastery; that being dead to the world and yourself, you may live to God. Strive therefore with might and main to accomplish that for which you came; learn strongly to despise all sensible things, and manfully to break, and no less wholesomely to forsake yourself. Make haste to mortify your passions and vicious affections that are in you.

Busy yourself in repressing the unstable wanderings of your heart; strive to overcome weariness, idleness, and the irksomeness of your infirm mind. Spend your daily labour in these things; let this be your glorious contention and healthful affliction. Be not remiss; but arise, watch, look about you, and expose yourself wholly, lest you be evilly partial to yourself. God requireth thus much of you; so doth your state.

You are called a Monk: see that you be truly what you are called. Do the work of a Monk. Labour earnestly in beating down and casting forth vice.

Be always armed against the frowardness of nature, against the haughtiness of mind, against the pleasures of your flesh, and the enticements of sensuality. Understand well what I say. If you permit pride, boasting, vainglory, self-complacence, to domineer over your reason, you are no Monk.

If you frowardly follow your own sense, and dare despise every humble office, you are not what you are called—you are no Monk.

If as much as in you lieth you repel not envy, hatred, maliciousness, indignation; if you reject not rash suspicions, childish complaints, and wicked murmurings, you are no Monk.

If a contentious and earnest strife being risen between you and another, you do not presently treat of a reconciliation, and what wrong soever hath been done, you do not presently pardon sincerely, but seek for revenge, and retain a voluntary private grudge, and not a true and sincere affection in your heart, or show outwardly signs of disaffection—nay, if when occasion and necessity requireth, you defer to help him that hath injured you, you are no Monk, you are no Christian, you are abominable before God.

If having done amiss, you are ashamed regularly to accuse yourself and freely to confess your fault; if being blamed, reproved, and corrected, you be not patient and humble, you are no Monk.

If you neglect readily and faithfully to obey your ghostly Father, if you refuse to reverence and sincerely to love him as God’s vicar, you are no Monk.

If you willingly withdraw yourself from the Divine Office and other conventual acts, if you assist not watchfully and reverently in the service of God, you are no Monk.

If, neglecting internal things, you take care only about the external, and with a certain dry custom move your body but not your heart to the works of religion, you are no Monk.

If you give not your mind to holy reading and other spiritual exercises, if you have your mind so possessed with transitory matters that you seldom lift yourself up to eternal, you are no Monk.

If you desire delicate and superfluous meats, and intemperately long after the drinking of wine beyond the measure of a cup, especially if you be in health, and have beer or other convenient drink sufficiently, you are no Monk.

CHAPTER II.

HOW WE OUGHT TO BESTOW OUR TIME FROM OUR FIRST RISING TO MATINS IN THE MORNING. .

AS soon as you are awake and ready to rise to Matins, devoutly arm yourself with the sign of the Cross, and briefly pray to God that He will vouchsafe to blot out the stains of sin in you, and be pleased to help you. Then, casting all vain imaginations out of your mind, think upon some other thing that is spiritual, and conceive as much purity of heart as you can, rejoicing in yourself that you are called up to the praise and worship of your Creator. But if frailty of body, if heaviness of sleep, if conturbation of spirit, depress you, be not out of heart, but be comforted and force yourself, overcoming all impediments with reason and willingness; for the Kingdom of Heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force. Certainly, according to the labour which you undergo for the love of God, such shall be your recompense and reward. Being come off from your bed, commend and offer yourself, both body and soul, to the Most High; make haste to the choir, as to a place of refuge and the garden of spiritual delights. Until Divine Office begins, study to keep your mind in peace and simplicity, free from troubles and the multiplicity of uncertain thoughts; collecting a goodly and sweet affection towards your God by sincere meditation or prayer. In the performance of the Divine Office have a care to pronounce and hear the holy words reverently, perfectly, thankfully, and attentively, that you may taste that your Lord is sweet, and may feel that the Word of God hath incomprehensible sweetness and power. For whatsoever the Holy Ghost hath dictated is indeed the life-procuring food, and the delightful solace of a chaste, sober, and humble soul. Remember, therefore, to be there faithfully attentive, but avoid too vehement cogitations and motions of mind; especially if your head be weak, lest being hurt or wearied, confounded and straitened internally, you shut the sanctuary of God against yourself. Reject, likewise, too troublesome care, which commonly bringeth with it pusillanimity and restlessness, and persevere with a gentle, quiet, and watchful spirit in the praises of God, without singularity. But if you cannot keep your -heart from wanderings, be not dejected in mind; but patiently endeavour, patiently do what lieth in your power, committing the rest to the divine will. Persevere in your goodly affection towards God, and even your very defects, which you are no way able to exclude, will in a manner beget you consolation. For as the earth, which is of a convenient nature, Both by the casting of dung, oftentimes more faithfully send forth her seeds; so a mind of goodwill, out of the defects which by constraint it sustaineth, shall in due time receive the most sweet fruit of divine visitation, if it endure them with patience.

And what profit do you reap by being impatient? Do you not heap calamity upon calamity? Do you not show your want of true humility, and bewray in yourself a pernicious propriety?

This word is here used in a sense perhaps new to many readers. It does not of course mean what we now commonly understand by it; but is used by Blosius and by many other ascetic writers to signify a habit of mind the opposite of that which is expressed by the word “detachment.” “Self-seeking” has been suggested to me as an equivalent, but it hardly is so. Perhaps “the thinking of things solely with reference to oneself,” or “a desire to possess things whether temporal or spiritual for oneself alone,” would express the idea intended to be conveyed by the word. But the periphrasis would be long and awkward, and I leave the word as it is, here and elsewhere in the treatise, with this explanation.

CHAPTER III.

GOD HATH TWO SORTS OF SERVANTS, AND THE DESCRIPTION OF BOTH.

AMONG those that are called the servants of God, many serve Him unfaithfully, few faithfully. Indeed, unfaithful servants, as long as they have sensible devotion and present grace of tears, do serve God with alacrity, they pray willingly, joyfully go about good works, and seem to live in deep peace of heart; but as soon as God hath thought it good to withdraw that devotion, you shall see them troubled, chafe, become malicious and impatient, and at last neither willing to be at their prayers nor any other divine exercises. And because they feel not internal consolations as they desire, they perniciously betake themselves to those that are external and contrary to the spirit, whereby it is manifest that they are not purely God’s gift, and abuse them to their own pleasure; for if they did love God purely, and did not viciously rest in His gifts, they would remain peaceable in God, those gifts being taken away; and would not even then turn out of the way to unlawful consolations. Therefore they are unfaithful, because in adversity they keep not touch with God. They believe for awhile, and shrink back in time of trial. They would have all things go on their side, and endure nothing that goeth against them. If God grant those things that they would have, they serve Him; if He deny them, they leave Him—nay, in prosperity they serve not God, but themselves; and in all things would rather have their own will done than God’s. They place sanctity in internal sweetness and consolation, rather than in the perfect mortification of vices; being ignorant that by the withdrawing of devotion it more certainly appeareth, if one truly love God, than by the infusion of it. For that sensible devotion is commonly more truly a natural than spiritual devotion.

But whatsoever it be, unless a man make use of it wisely, it is wont oftentimes to bring him that is so affected to a hidden kind of pride, a wicked complacence . and a vain security, as we daily see in these unfaithful servants. For as soon as they are tickled with this inward sweetness, they will forsooth begin to judge and despise others: they think themselves great saints, and the secretaries of God; they expect and wonderfully long after divine revelations, and wish that some miracles were done by them, or of them, by which others might take notice of the holiness which they think they have, but have not. Thus do they use to vanish away in their own imaginations, who gape more after sensible grace than the Giver of grace. But faithful servants behave themselves far otherwise, for they seek not themselves, but God; neither their own consolation, but chiefly the will and honour of God; they always fly propriety; whether God be pleased to infuse or not to infuse the influence of internal sweetness, they are all one, and persisting in equality of mind cease not to love and praise God. It is not internal darkness, nor difficulty of senses, nor coldness of affections, nor dryness of heart, nor dejection of mind, nor drowsiness of spirit, nor adversity of temptation; to conclude, it is neither misery of adversity, nor success of prosperity, that is able to heave them out of their place; for although, peradventure, they feel in the inferior powers of the soul the oppression of inordinate sorrow proceeding from adversity, or the violence of sensual delight arising out of prosperity, they are not for all that dejected, because they continue quiet in the reason or higher part of the soul, and do conform their will to the divine will or permission, and grieve that they feel the least contradiction of unseemly motions. Being founded, therefore, as a firm rock, they persist steadfast in the love of God, as they whose chief comfort is in His will. They are always devout, because with all their power they avoid and abhor whatsoever is displeasing to God, and may never so little contaminate the purity of their heart; and, committing themselves in all chances to God, do still possess a pure, free, and quiet mind. This is the truest devotion and most acceptable to God. The other sensible devotion, which is more familiar to novices, or those that are lately converted, is not durable and sure, yet notwithstanding it is very profitable to us if we wisely make use of it. The faithful servants (for so I still call them, whom Christ calleth not servants, but friends), faithful servants, I say, do seek after that effectual and most pleasant sweetness of grace also; they seek after the joy of our Lord’s salvations; they seek after His most lovely countenance and most sweet embraces, but they do this with a spiritual and bashful, not with a sensual, greediness, or childish lightness, or a troubled impatience. They desire the gifts of God, not that they may be sensually delighted in them, but that, being made more fervent by them, and more pure from all inordinateness, they may please their heavenly Bridegroom. They love the gifts of God, and willingly thank Him for them; but yet they keep themselves, as it were, quiet and free from them as long as they rest not in them. By grace they go forward to the Giver of Grace and Supreme Good, in Whom only it is lawful for them to rest. They are truly happy, because by how much the less they stick to those gifts they receive so many the more.

And although they be never so much endowed with blessings from God, they lift not up their mind, they despise not others, but themselves; I say, they despise and acknowledge themselves unworthy of all spiritual grace, they always keep in mind that whatsoever they have it is of God’s mere mercy, and that of them more is exacted to whom more is given or committed. And so continuing in holy fear, and by these gifts proceeding in humility, they confess themselves to be below the lowest. They rejoice and glory within themselves if, being oppressed with unjust infamy, reproaches, injuries, and uttermost scorn, they have imitated Christ; not if they could be elevated above themselves by excess of mind, or could see strange visions, or do most apparent miracles. They, presently making the sign of the Cross, repel the deceitful suggestions by which the devil endeavours to allure them to vainglory and self-complacence, no way consenting to the subtleties of the wicked serpent. They do not confidently place the loss of their salvation either in the number or in the merit of good works which they do, but put their trust in the freedom of the sons of God, which they have obtained by the blood of Christ. We then, brother, knowing the difference of the faithful servants, endeavour to be of those which, may be, you are not of, and strive to leave them of whom, peradventure, you are one. If you are of those you would not be of, and are not of those of whom you would be, grieve and humble yourself, for God giveth grace to the humble. And certainly, if you humble yourself in the sight of our Lord, grieving that you are yet of the number of the unfaithful, you have already in a manner passed into the lot of the faithful; labour, persevere, fear not. You shall not be reproved with the unfaithful, but shall be received with the faithful.

There are others also that are bound to the divine service, and yet cannot be called either faithful or unfaithful servants of God; these a man may lawfully call the idle slaves of the devil. I mean those unhappy wretches that, esteeming either not at all, or very little, of devotion or the grace of God, and altogether neglecting the interior parts, make a show, as though they honoured God with their lips, but their heart is far from Him. These being plunged over head and ears in a sea of evil, do little think of their own salvation. These are all one to-day as they were yesterday. They came from the choir as they went thither, viz., unclean, tepid, apt to no goodness, wandering, dissolute, without fear, without reverence. By the divine praises, which with a polluted mouth they utter, they more exasperate than please. I would to God these had kept them in the world; for what do they in monasteries? why tread they on holy ground? why devour they the alms of the just? why pollute they the angelical schools of spiritual exercises with carnal delights? If they intended to live uncleanly, they should have remained in a place for their purpose, and not have entered into places of purity. Living negligently in monasteries, they double the punishments of hell which their ill living in the world had deserved. But it is out of our way to speak more of these things; wherefore I return whence I strayed.

CHAPTER IV.

THAT FOR EVERY HOUR OF THE DAY WE OUGHT TO CLEAVE TO SOME SETTLED EXERCISE, LEST OUR MIND GROW SLUGGISH.

SO that you may be settled in your private exercise, prescribe yourself something what to do every hour, and to be busied in. But so that, if at any time, either upon obedience or any other private reasonable cause or chance happening, you abbreviate your exercise or wholly overslip it, you be not inordinately vexed, for you ought chiefly to endeavour to attain to this, that in the liberty and purity of heart (rejecting all propriety) you may always persevere, peaceable and without trouble before God. For this is acceptable to our Lord above all other exercises, be they never so laborious and hard. Whatsoever, therefore, shall hinder this liberty in you, although it be spiritual and seem very profitable, occasion so requiring, leave it as much as obedience doth permit. Endeavour, I say, to repel all restlessness of heart, which c1oketh true peace and perfect trust in God all spiritual proceedings. Let not vicious idleness at any time take place, for it destroyeth souls. Avoid also idle businesses; I mean those that are unprofitable, neither marvel at this kind of speech. Let not vicious idleness at any time take place, for there is also a commendable idleness, which is when the soul, fixed on God, and exempted from the noise and imagination of all sensible things, doth rest as it were idle in internal silence, and in the most blessed embracements of her Beloved, to which, if the hand of our Lord bring you, you shall profitably and happily be idle. Otherwise, always either read, or meditate, or pray, or take in hand something else that shall be serious and necessary; and truly, if you will settle yourself with all diligence to the study of Scripture you will be wonderfully comforted, and every spiritual thing will begin to grow sweet unto you, and so it will come to pass that, being accustomed to holy delights, you will easily condemn those that are carnal, and your mind will be wonderfully strengthened in your good purpose. To the end, therefore, that you may merit so great a fruit, willingly and wisely give yourself to reading; that is to say, in reading seek spiritual consolation and profit and the love of God, not curiosity, not superfluous understanding and knowledge, not neatness and elegance of words; for the Kingdom of God is not in elegance of speech but in holiness of life, which elegance of speech, nevertheless, as it is not over-carefully to be sought after if it be wanting, so it is not scornfully to be rejected by him that hath it, for it is also the gift of God. Receive all things with thanksgiving, and all things shall help forward for your salvation. Howbeit, be not troubled if many of those good. things which you hear or read slip out of your memory. For as a vessel which often receiveth water remaineth clean, although the water poured in be presently poured out again, so likewise, if spiritual doctrine often run through a well-willing mind, although it abide not there, nevertheless it maketh and keepeth the mind clean and pleasing to God. Your chief profit consisteth, not in committing the word of doctrine to memory, but rather that the effects of the doctrine and words remain in you, that is by this doctrine to get an internal purity, and a ready mind to fulfil the commandments of God. Learn to apply those things to yourself that are spoken against vice, for it is not safe to assert them against others with a fixed judgement of mind, lest while you obstinately judge another you defile or trouble your own conscience. And so, in all things which seem any way obscene, avoid as much as in you lieth even the very least allurement of any slippery motion; if by way of temptation they do impugn, molest, and trouble you importunately, contradict them with reason, deny to give consent, and, making the sign of the Cross, direct your whole intention to God. For so without hurt you may escape this danger. Furthermore, do not imitate those that observe no order in reading, but do read what cometh first to hand and where they first open the book; they like nothing which is not new and strange, for they loathe all things that are usual and stale, though never so profitable. Far be such instability from you, for it doth not recollect but distract the spirit, and he is dangerously sick that is tainted with this disease. Wisely bind your mind to a certainty of reading, and accustom yourself to go through with it, although sometimes it administer no matter of pleasure.

Read, I say, not confusedly or disorderly, but methodically. Repeat those things again and again that are good. Nevertheless, in time of tribulation and spiritual poverty you may intermit what you have begun, and, according to your necessity, turn and apply yourself to other godly exercises which may be more consolatory.

For it is the opinion of the Fathers that it is good to go to prayer or meditation from reading, and again to have recourse to reading from prayer; that prayer with a commendable vicissitude succeeding reading and reading succeeding prayer, loathsomeness may be taken away; and the mind being, as it were, fresh and lusty, may always be the more able for the proposed work, and that the greater fruit may be reaped of both. And what hindrance is there why a man should not make short prayers even in reading, and aspire to God by holy desires? There are many things that may serve either for reading or prayer or meditation: such are all the Scriptures in which there is conference with God. Always prefer common prayers before private, and judge them to be more profitable for you, although sometimes they may seem more barren and unsavoury. In like manner, esteem of all common and regular actions, for above all things obedience ought to be in the first place. If, peradventure, you demand in what prayers and meditations you should in private chiefly exercise yourself: if you will credit me, after you have accused yourself and craved pardon for your sins, you shall chiefly beseech God to mortify your evil passions and vicious affections, and quite and clean to strip you of all inordinateness; and that He will be pleased to grant you grace joyfully and patiently to endure all tribulation and temptation. Ask of Him profound humility and most fervent charity. Beseech Him to vouchsafe always to direct, teach, illuminate, and protect you in all things. These things, in my judgement, are most necessary for you. And, indeed, they are most great and high, neither can they otherwise be obtained than by prayer. Persevere, therefore, continually knocking; and without doubt our Lord will at length open unto you, and will give you as much bread as your necessity shall require. But so you neglect not willingly to give thanks for what you have received. For nothing displeaseth God more than forgetfulness and ingratitude for received benefits. And that you may the more willingly and sooner incline God’s benignity unto you, pray attentively for the state of the whole Church, commending unto God all the Faithful, both alive and dead, and every reasonable creature. Will you further hear in what with profit you may exercise yourself. I will tell you: singing of psalms is profitable, the godly meditating on other parts of Scripture is profitable, the consideration of .creatures compared to their Creator is profitable.

CHAPTER V.

HOW POWERFUL AND EFFICACIOUS THE REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST’S LIFE AND PASSION IS.

ALL prayers, singing of hymns, thanksgiving, and holy meditations are profitable. But by consent of all, the remembrance of Christ’s Humanity, and especially of His most sacred Passion, is said to be most profitable and only necessary, and with justice. For it is the present extermination of passions and inordinate affections, a fit refuge in temptation and surest safeguard in dangers, a sweet refreshing in distress, a friendly rest from labour, a gentle repressing of distractions, the true door of sanctity, the only entry to contemplation, the sweet consolation of the soul, the unfailing flame of divine love, the salver of all adversities, the fountain of all virtues, from whence they flow to. us: to conclude, the absolute example of all perfection, the haven, hope, trust, merit, and salvation of all Christians. I knew a Monk, whose custom was to propose to himself every day some part of our Lord’s Passion, as, for example, one day he would set before his eyes Christ’s being in the Garden. And whithersoever he went that day, wheresoever he chanced to be, if not troubled with any other serious and necessary cogitation, whatsoever he did outwardly, he took a special care to direct his internal eye to our Lord suffering -distresses in the Garden, and thus would he talk with his soul: And my soul, behold thy God. Behold, daughter, attend, see, and consider, most dear! Behold thy God, behold thy Creator, behold thy Father, behold thy Redeemer and Saviour! behold thy refuge, behold thy defender and protector, behold thy hope, trust, strength, and health! Behold thy sanctification, purity, and perfection! behold thy help, merit, and reward! behold . thy tranquillity, consolation, and sweetness! Behold thy joy, thy delights, and thy life! behold thy light, thy crown, and thy glory! behold thy love and thy desire! behold thy treasure and all thy good! behold thy beginning and thy end! Whither art thou scattered, thou wandering daughter? How long wilt thou leave the light and love darkness? How long wilt thou forsake peace and involve thyself in troubles! Return, return, thou Sunamite, return! Daughter, return and recollect thyself, most dear! leave many things and embrace one—for one thing is necessary for thee. Abide with thy Lord; place thyself by thy God; go not from thy Master; sit in His shadow Whom thou lovest, that His fruit may be sweet to thy throat. It is good for thee to be here, daughter. For hither the enemy cannot make his approach; here are no snares, no dangers, no darkness. All things are here safe, all things calm. Reside here willingly, most dear. For here thou shalt be safe and free, thou shalt be merry and joyful. Here are roses, lilies, and violets; here flowers of all virtues do smell most pleasantly. Here thou shalt see a brightness sweetly enlightening all things with his rays. Here thou shalt find true consolation; here thou shalt find peace and rest. To conclude, here thou shalt find all good.

With such short sentences he would both sharply and sweetly spur forward his soul, and call her home when she was wandering abroad, and force her to apply herself to the chiefest good. Of these little sentences he would take sometimes more, sometimes fewer, sometimes only one, sometimes two, sometimes three, according to the fervour of his devotion and the pleasure of the Holy Ghost; and he would oftentimes iterate and repeat them. He would also force his soul to the remembrance of those things which our Saviour did and suffered for her in the Garden. In the meantime, one while exciting her to the considerations of our Saviour’s unsearchable humility, mildness, patience, most fervent and incomprehensible charity; another while to take compassion on our Lord of infinite majesty, so humbled and afflicted; and then again to thank Him for so great benefits and piety; another while to repay love with love, and anon to ask pardon for her sins, and then to beg this or that grace. He would often convert his speech to these or the like affectionate or fervent aspirations: And my soul, when wilt thou be ready to follow the humility of thy Lord? when wilt thou imitate His mildness? when shall the example of His patience shine in thee? when wilt thou be better? when wilt thou be free from passions and vicious affections? when shall evil be destroyed in thee? when shall all inordinateness be blotted out in thee? when wilt thou peaceably and gently endure all tribulation and temptation? when wilt thou perfectly love thy God? when wilt thou intimately embrace Him? when wilt thou be wholly swallowed up in His love? when wilt thou be pure, simple, and reserved before Him? how long will it be ere thou be hindered no more from His most chaste embracings? and that thou were immaculate; and that thou didst fervently love thy God; and that thou didst inseparably cleave unto thy chiefest good. And then directing the eye of his heart to Heaven or to the depth of eternal light, he would frame these aspirations: And my soul, where is thy God? where is thy love? where is thy treasure? where is thy desire? where is thy total good? when shalt thou see Him? when shalt thou most happily enjoy Him? when shalt thou freely praise Him with all the citizens of Heaven? These and the like aspirations would he secretly speak either mentally or with his lips, taking sometimes more, sometimes fewer, according to the internal motions of the Holy Ghost. He would also often accuse his soul, that it was too slow, sluggish, tepid, ungrateful, hard, insensible, and unhappy. Again he would comfort it, being dejected with pusillanimity or fear, and would encourage it with these or the like words: Despair not my soul; take comfort, daughter, and be confident, most dear. If thou halt sinned and art wounded, behold thy God! behold thy Physician is ready to cure thee. He is most courteous and most merciful, and therefore willing; He is omnipotent, and therefore can pardon thy sins in a moment. Peradventure thou art afraid because He is thy Judge? but take heart, for He that is thy Judge is also thine Advocate. He is thy Advocate to defend and excuse thee, doing penance; He is, therefore, also thy Judge to save, not to condemn thee, being humbled. His mercy is infinitely greater than thy iniquity either is or can be. Which words I say not that, persevering in evil, thou shouldst make thyself unworthy of His mercy; but that, being averted from evil, thou shouldst not despair of indulgence and forgiveness. Thy God is most gentle, most sweet; He is wholly amiable, wholly desirable, and wonderfully loveth all things which He hath created. When thou thinkest of Him, or conceivest Him in thy memory, far be all imagination of terror, austerity, and bitterness from thee. When we say He is terrible, it is not in respect of Himself, but of those that abuse His patience and defer to do penance, whose most bitter and poisonous sins, as contrary to His most sweet and pure goodness, He repelleth and punisheth. Let not thine imperfections discourage thee too much for thy God doth not despise thee because thou art imperfect and infirm, but loveth thee exceedingly because thou desirest and labourest to be more perfect. He will also help thee if thou persistest in thy good intention, and will make thee perfecter—yea, peradventure (which thou little hopest for), wholly fair and every way pleasing to Him.

Thus, and in innumerable other ways, would he friendly talk with his soul, and invite her by chaste speeches to the chaste love of her Beloved. He would also turn his speech to our Lord, and, aspiring to Him by holy love, would say: And good JESUS, pious Pastor, sweet Master, King of eternal glory, when shall I be immaculate and truly humble before Thee? when shall I truly despise all sensible things for Thee, and when shall I perfectly forsake myself? when shall I be stripped of all propriety? For, unless there were propriety in me, there would not be self-will in me: passions and inordinate affections would have no place in me. I should not seek myself in anything. Propriety only maketh the impediment and medium between Thee and me; propriety only doth hinder Thee from me. When, therefore, shall I cast off all propriety? When shall I freely resign myself to Thy divine pleasure? When shall I serve thee with a clean, quiet, simple, and calm mind? When shall I perfectly love Thee in the arms of my soul? When shall I love Thee with most fervent desire? When shall all my tepidity and imperfection be swallowed up by the immensity of Thy love? O my desire, my treasure, O my total good, O my beginning and end, O my God, O sweetness pf my soul, O my consolation, my life, my love! Oh, that my soul might enjoy Thy most sweet embracings! Oh, that it were indissolubly bound with Thy love; would it were perfectly united to Thee. For what is to me in Heaven, and besides Thee what would I upon earth, God of my heart, and God my portion for ever? When shall the world be silent to me? When shall the impediments, troubles, and vicissitudes of this life cease to me? When shall my pilgrimage be ended? When shall my sojourning be consummated? When shall the miserable captivity of this banishment be dissolved? When shall the shadow of mortality decrease and the day of eternity draw near? When shall I lay down the burden of this body and see Thee? When shall I praise Thee as Thy Saints, without impediment, happily, and eternally? O my God, my love, my total good! He was often wont to use such aspirations, knowing that by the exercise of them the human spirit is more effectually united to the divine spirit, and that thereby man attaineth the sooner to the perfect mortification of himself. He had them ready everywhere; but if at any time he had more sufficient leisure, he would then (sitting as Mary Magdalen did) rejoice to linger more freely, and that more to the honour of God than to the inordinate pleasing of himself. He would not in the meantime omit, with a certain internal effusion of heart, by a sincere and sweet affection, to adore, bless, give thanks, and pray. Moreover, turning his speech to the Blessed Virgin, the Mother of God, as to a most merciful lady, and most liberal stewardess of heavenly treasures, he would redouble his pious complaints before her, and, with a holy importunity, extort a benediction. Another day he would set before himself how our Saviour, betrayed by Judas, was taken, and concerning this point he would iterate his foresaid exercises, and so would go through with the Passion in order, and having ended would begin again. And about that part of the Passion which did represent Christ hanging on the Cross, he did not employ himself in order and in his proper day, but every day at least briefly, if so be he thought it convenient, exciting his soul to the earnest contemplation of these things. On every solemnity of our Saviour or the Blessed Virgin he would (if he thought it good) propose to the eyes of his mind the representation of that Feast instead of part of our Lord’s Passion, which otherwise was that day to be frequented, and would perform his internal exercises or friendly discourses with his soul, and about the work, cause, mystery, and joy of that festivity. He was also much delighted with singing the Psalms. And I know that, by the continued custom of this holy exercise, he reaped consolation and singular profit of his labours.

I will set down an example; imitate of it, if you please. For by this means you shall be accustomed to apprehend the presence of God; by this means you shall begin to have your senses sober, watchful, exercised, and calm; by this means you shall prepare yourself a way to the highest contemplation and perfection. Thus, wheresoever you are, you shall spend your time profitably, vague and unstable cogitations being cast forth out of the corners of your heart, and such as are serious being entertained in their place. You may frame yourself meditations and aspirations in other terms than we have. If you perceive the looking in your book to hinder your mind, whereby you are the less able to, reach God and to be united to him, lay aside your book. Again, if you perceive it doth farther your exercise, make use of it, for I would that your devotion should be free to you, and that you should follow the grace of the Holy Ghost without confusion or anxiety. Moreover, by aspirations (as you may perceive by the above-written copies) we understand certain short ejaculatory prayers, or burning desires, and lively and loving affections to God. He that hath not as yet undertaken the beginning of internal conversation and his own mortification, or hath at least but newly begun, ought not peradventure so precisely to follow this rule.

But it shall be expedient for him to exercise himself for awhile according to this manner which I shall prescribe. Let him, therefore, every day propose to himself some part of our Saviour’s Passion, and let him study to have recourse in mind to the same whether he stand, go, sit, or rest, unless he have some other profitable or necessary thing in his heart to treat of. And let him often discourse with his soul in the presence of Christ suffering, either thus, or after the like manner—O my soul, behold thy God, behold ungrateful, attend thou wretch, consider thou poor soul, behold thy God, behold thy Creator and Redeemer; behold how the King of eternal glory humbled Himself for thee; behold how the highest Majesty debased Himself for thee; see what sorrows, bitterness, and indignities thy Saviour suffereth for thee; consider with what charity He loved thee, Who undertook so great calamity and affliction for thee. Arise, my soul, arise out of the dust, slip thy head out of the collar, thou captive daughter of Sion. Arise, forsake the puddle of thy vices and leave the uncleanness of thy negligent life. How long wilt thou take pleasure in perils? How long wilt thou esteem anxiety and torments to be rest? How long wilt thou securely sleep in destruction? How long wilt thou willingly leave the right way and wander abroad far and near by unknown places? Return unto the Lord thy God, for He expecteth thee; make haste, be not slack, for He is ready to receive thee; He will meet thee with open arms, only defer not thou to return. Come to JESUS, and He will heal and purify thee. Join thyself to JESUS, and He will illuminate thee. Adhere to JESUS, and He will bless and save thee. Sometimes let him more expressly upbraid his soul of ingratitude and perverseness, saying—Alas! my soul, how ungrateful hast thou been to thy God. He hath bestowed innumerable and most admirable benefits upon thee, and thou still repayest evil for good. He hath created thee according to His own image and likeness; He hath endowed thee with immortality; He hath deputed heaven and earth and all things contained in them to thy commodity; He hath enriched thee with many gifts and graces; He hath brought thee to the light of the Catholic faith; He hath withdrawn thee from the dangerous waves of the world, and conveyed thee to the haven and tranquillity of a monastical life, where thou (as in a most sweet paradise of spiritual pleasures) might have infinite occasion of holy joy and good works; He hath patiently borne with thee grievously sinning, and hath preserved thee from the jaws of hell. The King hath been incarnate for thee; thy Creator for thy sake hath become thy Brother. Neither did He think it sufficient to be born for thee, wherefore would He also suffer for thy sake. He endured sorrow and distresses for thy sake; He was betrayed and taken for thy sake; He was spit on and buffeted for thy sake; He was scourged and wounded with a crown of thorns; for thy sake He was smitten with a reed and laden with the burthen of the Cross; for thy sake He was nailed to the Cross and drank vinegar; for thy sake He wept and shed His most holy blood; for thy sake He died and was buried. He hath adopted thee to be heir of the Kingdom of Heaven; He hath promised those things unto thee which neither eye hath seen nor heart of man can comprehend. But thou hast left and condemned Him Who hath been so many ways beneficial to thee; thou hast cast away the holy fear of Him that loved thee; thou hast shaken off His sweet yoke that hath elected thee; thou art become as one of the daughters of Belial, as an impudent harlot; thou hast worshipped iniquities, without modesty; thou hast compacted with death; thou hast given thy hand to the devil; thou hast been most prompt to all wickedness; thou hast heaped evil upon evil, and hast rejoiced to add worse to the worst. By thy wickedness thou hast again crucified JESUS CHRIST, Who hath chosen thee for His spouse; thou hast renewed His wounds by thy crimes. Who will give thee groans and sighs? Who will give thee a spring of tears, that thou mayest night and day bewail thine ingratitude? O unhappy wretch, what wilt thou do? Oh, that thou hadst kept thyself in the state of innocency, and that thou hadst remained immaculate! Oh, that thou hadst not miserably defiled thyself with dishonesty I Oh, that thou hadst not gone astray from thy God! Thou has lost thine innocency; thou art defiled; thou art become dishonest; thou hast gone astray from thy God. Alas! poor wretch, and what wilt thou do? To whom wilt thou fly? From whom wilt thou expect help? From whom but From Him Whom thou hast offended? He is most pitiful, most courteous, most merciful. Humble thyself, pour out thyself like water in His sight, and He will take pity on thee. Sometimes let him turn his lamentations to our Lord with these or the like words—Alas! my Lord JESUS, what have I done! How have I left Thee! How have I despised Thee! How am I become forgetful of Thy name! How have I cast aside Thy name! How have I cast aside Thy fear! How have I trod Thy law under my feet! How have I transgressed Thy precepts. O me, my God! O me, my Creator! O me, my Saviour! O me, my life and my total good! Woe be to me, wretched creature! Woe be to me, woe be to me, because I have sinned! Woe be to me, because I have made myself like to a brute beast! Woe be to me, because I am become more silly than a sheep. O good JESUS, O loving Shepherd, O sweet Master, help me. Set me on my feet, stretch forth Thy hand to me, being in danger. Cleanse me from my filth, cure my wound, confirm my weakness, save me from destruction. I confess myself unworthy to tread on the- earth, I am unworthy to behold the light, I am unworthy of Thy aid and grace. For great is mine ingratitude; great, yea, too great, is the enormity of my sins. Nevertheless, Thy mercy is infinitely greater. Therefore, O God, Thou lover of mankind,. and my only hope, have mercy on me according to Thy great mercy, and according to the multitude of Thy mercies take away mine iniquity. Sometimes, as if he had risen out of a dream, falling on his knees in the sight of our Lord, let him affectionately say—Lord, if Thou wilt Thou canst make me clean. Or this—O God, be propitious to me a sinner. Or that—Have mercy on me, JESUS, Son of David. Or that other—O Lord help me. So likewise let him pour forth his heart before the Virgin Mary, the Mother of our Lord, and all the Saints of God, humbly suing for their intercession.

CHAPTER VI.

WE MUST DAILY CALL TO MIND THE MANIFOLD SINS WHICH WE HAVE COMMITTED.

AND every day, or certainly very often, when occasion shall serve, let him recollect himself; and with a profound humility, firmly proposing amendment, let him call to mind and particularly confess before our Lord the sins of his forepassed life, and especially those by which he hath grievously offended the divine goodness. But it will be indiscreet to dwell long upon those that belong to the frailty of the flesh, lest the remembrance of them, and the longer treating of the old sin, breed a new sin by unlawful delight. In which confession, contrition, and sensible devotion, let him accustom himself to lament more that he hath behaved himself contumeliously and ungratefully towards his Father and Creator, than that he hath brought himself in danger of eternal punishment

CHAPTER VII.

EVERY ONE OUGHT TO CONSIDER HIS OWN ABILITY, AND TO PROCEED ACCORDINGLY.

MOREOVER, let him attempt nothing beyond his strength, but be content with his lot. If he cannot reach as far as he desireth, let him reach as far as he can. And unless he flatter himself, he may easily know what proceedings he is able to make. Nevertheless, the divine bounty is liberal, infusing itself wheresoever it findeth a mind worthily prepared.

Wherefore, if our spiritual practitioner be not yet admitted to the sublimity of contemplation and perfect charity, let him think himself as yet not prepared for the receipt of so great a good. And what good would it do him to receive that grace, which he knows not how to make good use of. Let him make haste to pull up all vice by the root, that he may be the fitter. But still with this proviso, that he strive not beyond his strength. Let him not impatiently try to forerun God’s grace, but humbly to follow it. Let him not, I say, violently force his spirit thither, whither he cannot reach; lest presuming, which he ought not, he tumble himself down headlong by his own violence, and being crushed be punished for his rashness. Let him so tend to perfection, that unbridled violence and turbulent solicitude bear no part in his endeavours.

Let him attend the measure of grace given him, and withal remember that he shall far more easily, safely, quickly, and happily attain to the highest degree of contemplation, that is, to the comprehending of mystical divinity, if he be touched and rapt by the mere grace of God, than if he endeavour to attain unto it by his own labours. Let him always, therefore, observe a man with discretion, lest by excess he run into defects.

The bread of tears is good, and many, when they should refresh themselves, surfeit by it. For they insist so long in tears, and with so great confusion and agitation, that both spirit and body are fain to lie down under the too much intent or extended exercise. We confess that many, by the discretion and the help of the Holy Ghost, can long and profitably mourn; and there are many again that being, as it were, steeped in the torrent of pleasure which they take in God, do unseasonably urge and spur forward themselves to greater violence, and desist not from this indiscreet forcing of themselves until, being hurt and confounded, they fall and faint in themselves, and are thenceforth made unapt to receive the sweetness of grace. Wherefore the internal heat and violence is always so to be moderated, that the spirit be not extinguished, but comforted by it. They whose heads are of a good temper may more fervently and strongly insist in fervent aspirations; but they that have weak heads (especially if the weakness grow by indiscretion) are not able to exercise themselves otherwise than very gently and moderately. And such can scarcely sometimes admit a simple compunction of mind, or. meditation, or reading, without hurt, yea, although they leave their head on some place. So great is the calamity of the vice that proceedeth from indiscretion. But let them diligently, inasmuch as in them lieth, avoid this discommodity, and humbly pray to God for the restoring of that which they have spoiled themselves. If God be pleased to hear them, let them be thankful; if not, let them bless our Lord, and for His love learn according to His pleasure patiently to endure this misery, which they have done on themselves.

Let our internal practitioner beware also of all lightness of inconstancy and instability. Let him take in hand those exercises that are good; and let him go on with what he hath once begun, although they like him not; but so that the pleasure of the Holy Ghost be followed in all, the decree of his own will and appointment being rejected. For the Holy Ghost doth divers ways as it were invite us and uses to bring us by divers paths to the wine-cellar and bed-chamber of divine love; Whose instinct we must still observe and most readily follow, laying aside all propriety; wherefore this our spiritual scholar shall often present himself to the Holy Ghost as a prepared instrument; and which way soever the Holy Ghost shall bend and apply, let him presently follow. If at any time he shall be drawn or elevated up to the soaring contemplation and embracements of the chiefest good, let him freely offer up himself; and if the Passion of Christ, or any holy meditation and imagination occur, let him not stay at it, but with all expedition fly thither, whither he is called by the Spirit

When he doubtfully staggereth in his purpose, not knowing how he ought to proceed in his begun enterprize, let him use the counsel of men that are prudent, expert, and humble; for so he shall be a greater proficient, than if relying upon himself he- proceed according to his own inventions.

But in the meantime let him not forget carefully to have recourse to the remedy of prayer, humbly beseeching in all things to be directed and illuminated by our Lord; lest at any time being deceived he follow error instead of truth. And let him always remember that he can never perfectly be at leisure for God, unless his heart be free and clear from all things besides God.

You have now heard, Brother, after a manner,. how he should begin and how he should go forward in external exercises that desireth to attain to any excellent degree of a pure life. It shall be your part not only to hear and read these things, but also to put them in practice. Which if you do, and have help from above, and that you being to be clear within, and that psalmodies and other offices of divine praise wax sweet unto you, search not too high, but be afraid. For although, your heart being enlarged, you do awhile run the way of God’s commandments, you have not of yourself enlarged your heart, but God hath done it. And He that enlarged it can permit it, His grace being withdrawn, to be again coupled up and imprisoned: The Sun of Justice hath shined on you, and certain scales being taken off, hath illuminated your mind; but who can hinder Him from hiding Himself if He be so pleased. Be you therefore ready; for He will hide Himself, and His amiable brightness being once departed, your senses shall again be darkened and hindered.

Moreover, certain immissions by evil angels will toss the ship of your breast; yea, peradventure the temptation will be so strong, that you will think all to oppose itself against you. You will seem to yourself to be wholly given over to Satan, and will not have list to open your mouth in God’s praise. Neither shall this calamity endure a little while. Neither shall you only once, or thrice, or six, or ten times be laid hold on by it, but very often, sometimes more vehemently than at others. But be not dejected at this; neither think anything sinisterly of your fault. For He hath permitted you to be tempted that it may be manifest if you truly love Him, and that you may learn to pity others that are oppressed by temptations. He scourgeth and bruiseth you, that He may purge you from vice, and prepare you for more grace. He seemeth to leave you, as it were, for a time, that you wax not proud, but may always acknowledge that you can do- nothing without Him; yet, nevertheless, He doth not forsake you. He exerciseth you in these and the like adversities out of the unspeakable charity wherewith He loveth you. For the Heavenly Spouse useth this kind of dispensation with a fervent soul converted unto Him. He visiteth her solemnly in the beginning of her new purpose, doth comfort and illustrate her, and after He hath recreated and allured her with His sweet smile, he draweth her after Him, and lovingly meeteth her almost everywhere, with His milk feeding His new friend.

Afterwards He begins to administer to her the solid food of affliction, and plainly shows her how much she ought to endure for His name. Now she beginneth to be in a sea of troubles. Men molest her without, passions trouble her within. Punishments afflict her externally, internally she becometh dejected by pusillanimity. Externally she is grieved with infirmities, internally darkness overcasteth and cloudeth her. The external parts are oppressed, the internal dried up; one while the Bridegroom hideth Himself from the soul, another while He discovereth Himself unto her. Now He leaveth her, as it were, in the darkness and horror of death, and presently recalleth her to the sweetness of light, insomuch that it may be truly said of Him that He leadeth down to hell and bringeth back again. By such means He trieth, purifieth, humbleth, teacheth, weans, draws, and adorns the soul. If He find her faithful in all things, and to be of a good will and holy patience, and that, by long exercise and His grace, she doth mildly and affectionately endure all tribulations and temptations, then doth He more perfectly join her to Himself, and similarly maketh her partaker of His secrets, and bindeth her far otherwise to Him. This He did at the beginning of her conversion. Be not therefore troubled when vehement temptation scourgeth you, but as if you received a token of His love remain faithful and invincible in your agonies, saying with blessed Job—“Although He shall kill me I will trust in Him” during this storm. It will be somewhat hard for you to be present at the Divine Office, by reason of the instability and cloudiness of your mind. Notwithstanding, be patient, and gently do what lieth in your power. The night will pass away, darkness will be dispersed, and light will take place again. But as long as it is yet night take heed you are not found idle and negligent; if you have no list to pray, sing, or meditate, then read. If your mind loathe reading, write, or manfully exercise yourself for the time in some other external work, in the meantime diligently rejecting the troubles of vain cogitations. If drowsiness do unseasonably molest you, so that it grievously depress you, you shall peradventure (time and place permitting) do better if somewhat pertinently, to the honour of God, leaning your head somewhere, you slumber a little, than if inexorably you resist it; for if by labour you think to drive it away, as long as you labour you shall be free, but that once past, and you betaking yourself to your spiritual exercises, it will easily return. If you sleep, let it not be deep nor long, so that it last no longer than one may say one, or two, or three Psalms: for so your spirit, being, as it were, renewed, will arise with more expedition and alacrity. They that know not how to behave themselves soberly in eating, drinking, and the custody of their senses, if they fly to this remedy it is to be feared lest they rather aggravate than alleviate this disease, and, falling into a deep and long sleep, miserably lose their time by sluggishness. Watch carefully against those temptations by which the devil endeavoureth to incline the mind to those things that are indecent and vicious. Be sure to reject them in the very beginning, before they take possession of you within, for unless you repel the adversary at the first onset, if he get entrance he will presently clap bolts on your soul, and you, being destitute of liberty and force, will hardly be able to resist. But if you have behaved yourself negligently, and he fetter you, do not yield so, but deny your consent, and strive against him even by creeping on the ground, and pray to our Lord in the strength of your spirit, that, freeing your bonds, he will restore you to liberty, or at least preserve you from giving consent. But know that many times you shall more easily overcome the adversary suggesting any filthy, impious, and absurd thing, if you contemn and set light by his barking, and so pass them over, than if you strive long with him, and with great labour endeavour to stop his wicked mouth. But if he over much importune you, and being repelled once or twice do still come on afresh, you must meet with him on plain terms, that, being overthrown on plain ground, he may fly away with disgrace.

Now, he setteth on us many ways, for sometimes he seeketh to ensnare us secretly, and under pretence of piety; sometimes he setteth upon us openly and with open fury; sometimes he creepeth by little; sometimes he breaketh forth suddenly and unlooked for; sometimes he layeth siege to us by spiritual and internal means, sometimes by corporal and external adversaries or prosperities. Wherefore we must always have recourse to the aid of our Lord’s Passion, and cry to God with tears. But, as I have always said, soar not too high by reason of the grace which, peradventure, you have. For what have you that you have not received? Why do you glory, as if you had not received? Take heed, therefore, that by no means you open the window of your heart to the blast of vainglory or the air of self-complacence. See you brag not, see you boast not abroad of what you have received. But keep your secret to yourself, let it abide with you, unless you happen to reveal it humbly and modestly to some intimate and secret friend for spiritual utility and consolation, or that you be compelled by obedience, or rather manifest necessity, or great profit. See that you believe not that you have received the gift of God by your own merits and labours, but rather judge yourself unworthy (as indeed you are) of all grace and consolation, and worthy of all confusion and dereliction. Compare yourself with those that are more holy, that, by consideration of their perfection, you may the better acknowledge your own imperfection. Humble and deject yourself; place yourself infinitely below all men. But you will say, How can I do this, considering that many without fear or shame live most debauchedly, which I neither do nor will do? What! shall I cast myself below them? Shall I place them above me? I say you shall.

CHAPTER VIII.

A VERY GOOD MEANS TO OBTAIN HUMILITY.

FOR if you consider that these who to-day are so bad may to-morrow be more perfect than yourself, and that, if they had received the gifts that are granted you from above they would lead a far more holy life than yourself, and that you would sin more grievously than they if you were not prevented by a more abundant grace; I say, if you consider these things you will easily observe how fit it were that you should prefer every sinner before yourself. Oh, if you did know the secret of God, how willingly would you give place to others; how gladly would you take the lowest place; how joyfully would you lay yourself at the feet of others; with what alacrity would you attend the sick; how devoutly would you honour all; how affectionately obedient would you be, without any delay or complaint. But yet I require a more excellent thing of you, viz., that you place yourself not only below all men in your heart for God’s sake, but also below each creature, reputing yourself as most abject dust, esteeming yourself unworthy to tread on the earth or to enjoy the benefit of light. Look more exactly into yourself—how ungrateful, tepid, unstable, miserable, and vile you are, and by that means you will attain to that most humble submission of mind. If the old enemy knock importunately at the door of your heart, putting into your conceit that you should think yourself somebody, that you should vainly glory and compare yourself with others, repel the subtle villany, lock the doors against him, and although you feel some pestilent immissions, beware always of giving your consent; for if you consent, if you let in the impostor, and incline your mind to his unlawful allurements, you have broken your faith and vow, which you have made to the Bridegroom of your soul; you have polluted the bed of your Beloved, which before flourished; neither can you be admitted to His most blessed familiarity unless you cast out the adulterer and humble yourself exceedingly. And, peradventure, you shall not be received to favour unless you be first punished and afflicted for awhile, and that the filthy kisses which the impure spirit . hath imprinted on your soul be razed out by the scourge of God. But enough hath been spoken of this.

CHAPTER IX.

HITHERTO we have spoken how you ought to assist at the Divine Office, what internal exercises you should undertake, what rule to be observed, what to be followed, what to be avoided in them. We will now pass to the rest that we have to speak of. As for corporal refections, beware of all excess, lest, being overladen, you be made inapt for all spiritual exercises. For it cannot be but that the belly, swelling by intemperance, must needs draw away the mind from God and those things that belong to salvation. Wine especially, being more largely used, although without drunkenness, is a great impediment. It inflameth the body, confoundeth the internal parts, and, distressing the alacrity of the spirit, stirreth up a beastly kind of sluggishness. In vain, therefore, doth that man aspire to a spiritual life that yieldeth to his belly lop off, therefore, all vicious desires. Take no care whether your meat or drink be very delicate or sweet of itself. If it be man’s meat, and reasonable, what need you desire more? You are a Monk: come then to the table to refresh your body of God’s gifts, not to nourish the pleasures of the flesh. Wherefore, if you are troubled about the goodness of your victuals, and do murmur, as I have already said, so I say again—you are no Monk. If JESUS were truly pleasing to your heart, what poor fare for His sake would not be pleasing to your palate. For JESUS is a more pleasant sauce, even to extreme poverty. Love Him, and all manner of food will not be less, nay, will be more, pleasing unto you than the delicious banquets of Kings. JESUS, being hungry for your sake, was often fed with bare bread; JESUS, thirsting for your sake, drank vinegar and gall. Take your meat and drink continently, leisurely, and moderately, excluding all brutish greediness. Have a care even of the natural delight that proceedeth from your natural refection. Do not reflect upon it, do not desire to feed your sensuality, for if you feed that it will feed on you and pollute you within. And as you must often deny the flesh what it evilly desireth, so sometimes you must force it to receive what it desireth not. For sometimes it doth in a manner loathe that which natural necessity requireth.

Furthermore, beware that, while you refresh your body, your mind be not in the meantime hunger- starved. Therefore let the mouth of your heart feed on the word of God, and let your ears receive the wholesome doctrine and deeds of the Saints. And if you happen to sit at that table where there is no holy reading, do not thus deprive yourself of your spiritual food, but, as much as silence will permit, converse inwardly either with your soul or with God, and propose to yourself some godly thing to keep yourself doing. As in your diet, so be also in your apparel. Reject, scorn, and detest whatsoever is contrary to monastical simplicity. Neither do you imitate those vain and wretched Monks that are ashamed of their estate and vocation, but not of their lewd life and conversation; who, if they are to go abroad and to come into the sight of seculars, will bewray their foolishness and curiosity. They must, forsooth, have such and such clothes, and wear their cassock after this or that fashion. They are ashamed to wear their apparel according as religion doth ordain, and according to the Constitutions of their Superiors and ancestors. And coming abroad, not like humble Monks, but like delicate and neat courtiers, by this prodigious sight they provoke wise men to sorrow and indignation, but find matter of mirth for the devil, evidently showing by this absurdity what they are within, viz., proud, wanton, and full of vainglory. Alas! wretched Monks, far wide from the scope of true religion. O Monks—not Monks, but monsters! O Monks detestable, by being thus deluded by the devil’s clothing. Is this it that you promised to God, when, by the most sacred vow of poverty, you solemnly renounced the world, with all the pomps and vanities thereof? Is this it that the King of Kings hath taught you by His word? Is this it that He hath showed by His example, when, being wrapped in base clouts, He had no other cradle than a manger; when, likewise, He was apparelled in a white garment and a purple robe in scorn? Is this to follow JESUS? Is this to follow JESUS’ footsteps? O intolerable confusion! O extremity of madness! Look to yourself, Brother, that you become not like these, but rather be content with plain apparel, whether you be within the monastery or without, for thus much your profession exacteth of you. Everywhere, but especially during the Divine Office, keep your eyes from wandering, neither lightly look about you either this way or that, unless necessity require, lest you chance to see something that may hinder you from attention and purity of heart. But although there be no fear of danger, yet monastical discipline requireth that, whether you rest or go, you use modestly to look down upon the ground. Never look curiously on the face of any.

Let not your gait be too swift or hasty, especially in the Church, unless it happen of necessity that it must be so. Neither out of the Church let it be overdone, or remiss, but modest and civil. In all things compose yourself to a laudable carriage of your whole body.

Let your looks before others be pleasing, with a decent gravity, behaving yourself courteously and affably towards all. And if against your will you happen to be over-sorrowful, so dissemble it that you seem not unpleasant and harsh, and so be troublesome to the rest. When you are forced to laugh, laugh sparingly and like a Monk. Avoid long laughter as a great impediment to you in your purpose, and as the destruction of your soul; knowing that vehement and immoderate laughter doth violate the cloisters of modesty, and, dispersing the interior powers of the soul, driveth the grace of the Holy Ghost out of your heart.

Above all things, love solitude, silence, and taciturnity. Be more ready to hear than to speak. Be not hasty, nor turbulent, nor clamorous, nor contentious in words; but speak modestly, bashfully, courteously, and, without dissembling, what is true and right. Be not, I say, too loud; nor yet so low that you cannot be understood, especially if the place, time, cause, or person to whom you speak require that you speak somewhat more loud than ordinary; for, as the voice of a Monk should always be bashful, and for the most part low, according to the holy ordinations of religion, so also sometimes it ought to be reasonably loud. Affirm nothing obstinately, unless matter of faith or necessity of salvation constrain; but whosoever contradicteth you, either yield or hold your peace; if neither ought to be done, affirm with modesty and humility what you know to be certain; for by this means you, shall take away all occasion of irreligious contention. Let not your words be biting. Willingly speak not anything that may be either to your own credit or others discommendation. But if out of necessity or utility, you speak any such thing, do it with a laudable modesty and a pure intention. Abhor dissolute tales as the poison of the soul. As for jests (if they happen in your presence), albeit you suffer them, yet relate them not. Never consent to a tongue that speaketh foolishly, unseemly, and perniciously. Yea, if such things are spoken, do you, if it seem good, mildly and with reason find fault with the speaker; if you think it not good, yet at least cut off his speech honestly and endeavour to draw him to better discourse: if, possibly, you may give no ear to backbiters. The liberty of external recreation granted you, either by walking or other wise, see you abuse not; that is, make such use of them that they hinder not your spiritual going forward, but rather further it. You may, indeed, to the honour of God slake your mind, but let it not loose, lest, whilst you wander abroad, being expelled out of yourself, some delight or passion contrary to the spirit lay hold on you, and disperse your interior senses and replenish them with bitterness. Therefore carefully learn, by a certain advised simplicity of mind, to abide within yourself, that the noise of vain cogitations and the motion of inordinate affections being represented, you may keep your heart in silence and liberty. Let God be your chief, yea, your whole thought and study, for it is not enough for you that He be your whole intention.

Likewise, in all external occupations endeavour that, with Martha, you do not only for the honour of God perform your work prudently, devoutly, and with alacrity, but that also in those works which you faithfully do to the honour of God, with Mary, you direct your mind, being freed from the tumult of cogitations and the confused imagination of sensible things, to God, or those things that are divine, especially if reasonable discourse or any other necessity hinder not.

CHAPTER X.

MARTHA MAY SERVE AS A MIRROR FOR IMPERFECT RELIGIOUS MEN; MARY FOR SUCH AS ARE GROWN TO PERFECTION.

MARTHA, because she is distracted in her external actions and in her right intentions by the multiplicity of vain cogitations, and is troubled about many things, although peradventure she be not deformed, yet is she not comely enough. But Mary, because she knoweth how to forsake the troops of unstable cogitations, and persisting in unity and tranquillity of mind, doth strive to cleave to goodness itself, is of more perfect beauty. Wherefore howsoever you are externally occupied, love not only to be right and innocent with Martha, but also to be clear and simple with Mary. Mary hath chosen the better part, which shall not be taken away from her. And you have chosen the same; which unless you keep, according to your power, you produce not fruit worthy your profession. Have therefore always a charitable simplicity of mind if you be yet a little one in Christ, and are not able to follow Mary, soaring so high in mind; imitate her humility, imitate her affectionate watering our Lord’s feet with tears, imitate her most lovingly seeking our Lord in the sepulchre. For even in these she had simplicity of mind; she loved one thing, she thought on one thing, she sought one thing. But imitate her not for your own delight, but to please our Lord. For if by spiritual delectation you do principally seek yourself in these, your soul is not the chaste spouse of Christ, but the most base servant of sin; I might say, the devil’s impure hackney. You shall at length merit to be admitted to the apprehension of higher mysteries by these that are more low, if I may so call them, which, indeed, are not low, but of a wondrous height.

In all things that differ not from the sincerity of a monastical life, conform yourself to the Community, still avoiding vicious irregularity. And because you live among Monks that live laudably according to the sweet austerity of a holy Rule, be not singular in abstinence and watching; neither exceed the rest of the Monks therein, unless by the revelation of the Holy Ghost you know it to be the will and pleasure of God. Neither attempt anything without the counsel and consent of your Superior, lest, while you presume of your own head to afflict your body beyond measure, you make yourself unable for good works, and wholly deprive yourself of the fruit of your labour. God requireth of you purity of mind, not the overthrow of your body. He would that you should subject it to the spirit, not oppress it. Therefore, as well in external exercises as internal, temper the fervour of your mind with a holy discretion.

If your will, being more slow to virtue. and remiss, do, as it were, sleep, rouse it up, spur it forward. But if, having too much bridle, it run too fast, repress and check it. Always assist it with holy fear in the presence of God. And let these words always resound in the ears of your heart—“Look to thyself.” Consider not over-curiously the deeds of others, what are their manners and behaviour, unless it belong unto you as an officer. Let your curiosity and business be about yourself. Howbeit, think not in this that I would have you make no account of the excesses or sins of others, or neglect to amend them as much as in you lieth, or procure them to be amended. For we condemn curiosity, not holy zeal of justice. We d4commend not what in this case is not against mature stability, or contrary to the sincere love of your neighbour. These vices that you see in others, or hear of them, either think them not to be simply true, or interpret them in the better part; but if they be so manifest that no interpretation can qualify them, endeavour to separate your sight both of body and mind from them, and reflecting on your own sins, if you have leisure, humbly pray to God both for yourself and them. For so shall you more easily avoid unquiet suspicions and rash judgements. But beware that with consent of reason you rejoice not at another’s sin, though of small moment, or of any adversity; but mourn for your brother before our Lord, calling to mind that we are members one of another, all one body, and redeemed all with the same blood. Learn not to be angry, but to pity the defects of others, and patiently to bear with them, whether they be defects of body or mind.

For it is written, “Bear one another’s burdens;” and so you shall fulfil the law of Christ. Let not the heavenly grace which you observe in others excite you to satanical envy, but to a faithful imitation and godly congratulation. And although you have not the spiritual good that you know another to be blessed with, yet rejoice in heart that God is honoured by it: as readily thank our Lord for it as if it were your own.

And, indeed, it will be to your own good, and you shall be crowned for another’s as for your own. Nay, more; it shall become your own. So order your mind that you desire not to please the world, nor fear to displease it. In man, although very nearly allied, love nothing but good, or the grace and workmanship of good. And again, hate nothing but vice.

Offend not God willingly, either for kinsmen, friends, or any other body’s sake, though never so well deserving at your own hands; neither favour, flatter, or applaud any one in any sin. Do not earnestly desire the presence or speech of any man unless it be for some spiritual good; and yet a perplexed earnestness is neither, then, good. Love all men, but spiritually, not sensually. For so it will come to pass, that you will not be inordinately troubled at the corporal absence of such as are virtuous or your friends, nor afflicted at the corporal presence of such as are vicious or your enemies.

Nay, esteem no man your enemy, but love even your persecutors, as the most dear furtherers of your salvation. Whatsoever you see, hear, or perceive in creatures to be delightful and worthy of singular admiration, either by their natural disposition, or the art and industry of man, refer it to the praise of the great Creator, or the use of eternal beatitude, that you may be delighted in our Lord. Always be afraid of sensual delectation, whencesoever it hath its beginning. For if you seek yourself by that and cleave to it, you will be entangled and defiled. Utterly detest the love of all sinners, yea, even of the very least. By which, notwithstanding, if, peradventure, being overreached, you fall out of frailty, afflict not yourself unreasonably with inordinate pusillanimity, but humbly confess your fault before our Lord, and renewing your good purpose and piously taking heart, cast all your defects into the unsearchable profundity of His mercies or His most holy wounds. As long as you live in this clay building of your body, you may mortify in yourself the affections of lesser sinners, but wholly avoid to slip into them you cannot. Godly Monks, although they slip sometimes, yea, very often, yet they hate sinning and beware of it, and grieve after they have offended; but perverse Monks sin without hating, without bewailing of it. For they take no pains to extinguish the affections of lesser faults, nor to avoid the occasion of them. They desire the liberty of a more loose life; they love to be absent from Divine Office and other conventual acts; they desire delicate and superfluous meat and drink; they espy out opportunities of trifling; they affect inordinate laughter. They, delight in secular businesses, to see vanities, to have curious things for their own use: self-complacence, foolish joy, idleness, vain talk, fables, fantastic behaviour, and such other vices are with them not at all, or scarcely accounted, faults; in their conscience they make no bones of them. For being made insensible, they think themselves whole when they are deeply wounded, and, therefore, neither care for lamenting their sins, nor amending their life. But what say they? These, say they, are no wounds, or if they be, they are very little ones, and as much as nothing. O wretched Monks! O mad Monks! O Monks, not Monks! For although they seem little, yet, because they are not afraid to receive them, and after receipt of them defer to cure them, they become mortal. I speak nothing of their falling into pride, rebellion, disobedience, murmurings, fury, detractions, hatred, envy, contempt, gluttony, with other hideous sins, and all by this negligence. Do not, Brother, do not imitate these; for they are not disciples of the Crucified, and the beloved friends of God; neither ever shall be, unless they leave off to be what they are. Look you better to yourself, leave, remove, cast aside whatsoever may any way hinder you from the true love of God.

CHAPTER XI.

PERFECT MORTIFICATION IS THE CERTAIN AND ONLY SHORT WAY TO PERFECTION.

BY mortification, as by a certain and compendious way, hasten to perfection of life. Will you in few words know what this generality of mortification is? Will you know that only certain short cut? I will tell you I will show you. Give ear therefore. Put off all propriety. Behold this short way. Put off all propriety. And what is the meaning of this? Lay aside all you own will and seeking put off all the old man. But that you may the better understand what is spoken, I will propose the same a little more plainly.

Have you bound yourself to the observance of poverty? Why, then, be poor. Poor, how is that? Be poor in the desire of wealth and passions of the mind, poor in spirit. If you love and desire anything by propriety of affection and sensuality; if as yet you seek yourself in anything, you are yet voluntary, you are not yet truly poor; you cannot yet, with St. Peter, say to God, “So we have left all, and have followed Thee.” Strip yourself, leave all, put off all propriety. Whatsoever is not God, let not abide in your heart by cleaving to it, or inordinately loving it. Be free from all things that are besides God; insomuch, that I would have you neither foolishly to rejoice for any good news, nor to be inordinately dejected for any bad; and whether you have not received what you yet have not, or have lost what you have, every way keep a stable and quiet state of mind. For God’s sake utterly deny all sensible things, yea, even yourself. Which is as much as to say, mortify in yourself the force of concupiscence, delight, anger, and natural indignation; and as well in adversity as prosperity resign yourself over to God’s divine pleasure, without any contradiction of will. I have showed you that this short way and general mortification of yourself in none other than the general casting away of all propriety, that is, a humiliation of yourself in all kinds. For, indeed, perfect humility itself is that shortest way, by which you go straightforward to the port of perfection. Now this port is perfect charity, or purity. You will demand how you may know whether you have attained to that port. I will give you manifest instructions. If always abiding in silence of heart, as in a most quiet haven, you affectionately direct and incline towards God your mind, being free from all inordinate care, affection, and earnest imagination of things that are below you, and, in a word, from all disquiet and tumult, so that your memory, your understanding, your will—that is, your whole spirit—possessing the above-named port, be happily united to God.

This is the sum of all perfection. For although, being clothed with this corruptible flesh, we cannot always by present insight and memory stick to the theory and speculation of God, yet here we ought always to be fixed by our intention; and hither, as to a mark, we ought carefully to recall our mind as often as we waste ourselves by unseasonable, light, and unsettled cogitations. As long as by reading, meditating, hearing, or speaking, we profitably and sincerely treat of any contemplative and spiritual matter, we are not separated from God. Neither when, occasion, requiring, we do with the like sobriety and sincerity speak or think of external matters in their due time, do we go far from God. Oh, what a brave philosopher, what a wise man, what an excellent divine shall I account you oh, how happy and blessed, if you convey these things by your corporal ears into the ears of your heart, and, being stirred up to the true mortification of yourself, do lay the axe to the root of the tree. But what tree is this? It is propriety, of which we spake a little before. But what is the axe, then? It is the fervour of spiritual and internal exercise. But chiefly the daily handling of our Lord’s Passion, and often aspirations to God, with prompt obedience and a reasonable sobriety of diet, are this axe. It is certainly a sharp axe, a blessed axe, a most grateful axe, an axe that bringeth with it all good and all purity, a golden axe, and decked with precious stones. But the tree is a cursed tree, a tree full of most bitter fruits, a tree of all evil, a tree that produceth and nourisheth all inordinateness, a tree of obscurity and darkness. This tree is in you, as also in all others, and as long as it abideth in you, your cannot have perfect light. If, therefore, you desire clearly. to behold the bright beams of the Sun of Justice, cut down this tree and cast it from you. It is a very thick and hard tree, not to be cut down at the first blow, nor the first day, nor, perchance, the first year; no, nor peradventure in a long time together. Wherefore, perseverance and patience are requisite. Now, as gold, if there be no let, naturally goeth downwards, and the flame of fire is carried upwards, so the mind that is purged and purified from the dross of propriety, and seeketh only the will of God, is naturally elevated to her beginning, which is God, and is more freely united to Him; but the mind that is partly purged of it, although she tend to her beginning, and be in some sort illustrated from above by the brightness of eternal light, yet, notwithstanding, because all impediment is not taken away, she cannot have free passage nor flow to, nor be swallowed up in, the bottomless depth of eternal light; that is, she cannot freely be united to God, her principal and greatest good. Furthermore, although God out of His bounty be pleased sometimes to lift up some to His love by a more easy way without many temptations, yet let no man, although enriched with spiritual gifts, easily believe that he hath attained to the perfect resignation of himself, unless in very deed he has endured many most grievous adversities, and has kept a perfect quietness and liberty of mind in the toleration of them. There are many that, as long as they feel no checks, no injuries, no losses, no temptations, no troubles, seem devout, patient, and humble; but, as soon as they are once touched by them, they proudly show, by murmuring, indignation, and impatience, how little they are mortified. Wherefore, before any one can be thought to have attained to the true abnegation of himself, he must necessarily endure many adversities with a voluntary and quiet mind. And as for him that bath been exactly tried by God in afflictions, let him think that he hath not yet gone so far as that he is able to endure them; for if he had, without doubt he should not want occasions of diverse tribulations; for God rejoiceth to adorn the soul more secretly and perfectly joined to Him with manifold afflictions, as it were with so many precious pearls, and so to bring it to the true similitude of JESUS CHRIST. He, therefore, that, rejecting propriety in all things, conformeth his will to the divine will and ordinance, being equally prepared to undergo any adversity, confusion, subtraction of internal sweetness for God’s sake, as he would the affluence of any prosperity, honour, and devotion; he, I say, that is come to that pass, that he can endure all temptation and tribulation with a certain internal sweetness and joy, this man hath found a precious pearl; this man hath attained to the highest degree of perfection; he is everywhere, and in all occasions, united to God, and most sweetly poureth his soul to Him. He doth purely, quietly, simply, joyfully, and sweetly walk all the day long in the light of our Lord’s countenance and can adhere to highest contemplation when he pleaseth with the same facility that he doth live and breathe. What in this vale of misery he may receive from Heaven, and to what God will be pleased familiarly to admit him, it lieth not in our power to speak, for, indeed, they are things unspeakable. Let him that is such glorify God, and confess that JESUS CHRIST hath raised up the needy from the earth, and lifted up the poor out of the dung, since that of an impure man here on earth He hath made an Angel like to God.

CHAPTER XII.

A MONK OR NUN, BY VIRTUE OF THEIR PROFESSION, IS BOUND TO TEND TO PERFECTION.

YOU will, peradventure, say, Oh, this perfection is too much above me, therefore will I not stretch myself, nor endeavour to apprehend it, lest I should labour in vain. But my answer is, that if you do according to your words, you are no Monk; for, although you are not bound to attain to perfection, yet are you bound, as much as in you lieth, to endeavour to attain to it. Flatter yourself how you will, persuade yourself as you will, fain and pretend what excuses you will, you are bound with might and main to tend to perfection. It is even so and not otherwise. If hitherto you have been ignorant of it, henceforth ignorance cannot excuse you; you have bound and obliged yourself, and so you shall remain.

But you will say, I cannot attain to such perfection. What mean you by this distrust? Are you ignorant that the divine power can do more than human infirmity can imagine? I confess that of yourself you cannot attain it, but God is able to bring you. Believe God, hope in God, not in yourself. Trust in the grace and help of God, not in your own endeavours. Nevertheless, that God may be with you, be not you wanting to yourself by sloth. Do what lieth in your power, put forth your hands, stretch out your arms, confirm your mind to the destruction of vice, to the perfect abnegation of yourself; recollect your heart, produce affection, elevate your mind to the contemplation of those things that are eternal, and accustom yourself everywhere to attend the presence of God: which that you may the better perform, propose to yourself according to the above demonstrated example every day some part of our Lord’s Passion, and carefully cast your internal eyesight upon the same; in the meantime sweetly conversing with JESUS, or with your soul concerning Him. Always, I say, busy your cogitations (as much as commodiously you may) in some divine matter. Let this be your scope; let this be the determination of your mind. Labour for this without rest with a quiet and pleasing care. And although every moment (as I may say) you be distracted and stray from your intention, be not dejected; let not that breed pusillanimity, but be constant, and ever return to what you are resolved. By your indefatigable labour you shall overcome all trouble of difficulty. Nay, in a little while you will find this labour more easy and pleasant; and being regenerate to the newness of an unknown light, you will begin to taste of the delights laid up for the Saints; you will not be the same as you were before; but, being happily changed into another man, and clothed with angelical grace, you will highly esteem what before you despised, and despise what before you highly esteemed. That which before did evilly please you will now displease you; what before evilly displeased you will now please you: you will promptly and willingly endure what before seemed insufferable. O pleasant metamorphosis! O change proceeding from the right hand of the Most High. At last, this laudable custom growing into a second nature, and the divine love more perfectly possessing you within, you will not feel any labour; and as before without labour you did think on filthy, impure, absurd, foolish, vain, and dream like things, so now you will without labour adhere to God and divine things. For, of necessity, the mind must daily reflect on that which the heart dearly loveth.

Woe, woe unto perverse, tepid, and negligent Monks—Monks in .name, but not in life—who, contemning the reverence of their state, and violating their vows, are neither ashamed, nor fear to wallow in the dirt and dung of sloth, vanity, and passions. But blessed, yea, ten times triple blessed, are those Monks and Religious men who, albeit they are of little estimation and imperfect, do, notwithstanding, with might and main aspire and tend to perfection; for they are certainly the adopted sons of God, whom our pious Saviour doth comfort, saying, Fear not little flock, for it hath pleased your Father to give you a Kingdom. They may surely expect death, although they are yet but in the beginning of their holy purpose. Because it shall be precious in the sight of our Lord, surely may they expect death; and yet not death, but the sleep of peace, the period of death and the passage from death to life.

What say you, Brother? Are you yet in doubt? Do you yet stagger? Take courage, I pray you, and being emboldened through so great a confidence in Our Lord’s goodness, going on the way of salvation without a fear, preparing your soul against temptations. Let no manner of difficulty affright you. In all adversity which you happen to endure, either at home or abroad, say gratefully the will of our Lord be done. Although you must sweat much and long, and wrestle strongly before you can overcome and supplant the old man, let not that trouble you consider not the labour, but the fruit of the labour. Believe me, the supernal piety will be present at your labours, and will still most lovingly succour you, will comfort you when you fear, will confirm you when you stagger, will defend you being assailed, will uphold you when you slip, will comfort you in your sorrow and will now and then infuse the most precious ointment of internal sweetness into you. If you persevere, the force of temptations must of necessity yield to the force of divine love; temptations and tribulations will no more be grievous and bitter to you, but light and sweet. Then shall you see all good, and shall find a paradise even in this life. This, I say, will come to pass if you persevere and be not of the number of them that begin well, but, being deluded by the allurements of Satan, or wearied with the troubles of temptations and labours, do afterwards lightly leave their good purposes. They will not be pressed with the weight of tribulation, and, therefore, in time of affliction are scandalized in our Lord, and going back from Him, do, as it were, seem to say: This saying is hard, and who can bear it?

They build not on the firm rock, but on the unstable sand; and, therefore, their buildings do easily fall down at every puff of wind and pushes of the floods. And would to God they would consider their ruins, and not so give over, but make haste to renew the decayed building, no more laying their foundations upon the sands, but committing them to the firmness of the rock.. Dear Brother, if (which God forbid) your building be fallen, renew your overthrown work, and build again more happily than you did before. If it fall twice, or ten, or a hundred, yea, a thousand times, or more, repair it as often as it falleth. Never despair of God’s mercy; for the innumerable multitude of horrible and hideous sins doth not make God so implacably angry with us as desperation alone; for he that despaireth of forgiveness denieth the mercy and omnipotency of God and blasphemeth against the Holy Ghost We cannot be so ready to sin as our Lord is to pardon, if we abuse not His patience; .that is, if we will truly and in time do penance. Thus ought every Christian to think. But, lest prolixity make my treatise displeasing, I think it best for me to withdraw my pen, and to stop the course of my begun navigation. In the meanwhile we take down our sails, it will not be amiss briefly to touch what you ought to do at every day’s end.

Every day, therefore, before you go to bed, seriously, but without inordinate discipline of mind, consider in what you have that day offended, and ask pardon of our most merciful God, purposing thenceforth to live better, and more carefully to avoid all vice. Then pray that He will vouchsafe to keep you that night from all pollution, both of body and mind, commending to Him and to His sacred Mother and your holy Angel your soul and body to be guarded and kept. Being gone to bed, arm yourself with the sign of our Lord’s Cross, and having honestly and chastely composed your body, sigh to your Beloved, thinking upon some good thing until sleep gently seize on you; which, if it be over deep and rather a burthen than a refreshing to your body; if, likewise, by frail illusions it procure or produce anything savouring of dishonesty, be not overmuch grieved thereat, but humbly sigh before our Lord, and with humble prayers beseech Him to grant you sobriety of diet and senses, to which sobriety of sleep and purity of body are commonly companions.

This is all, dear Brother, that I have to send you. You desired a mirror or looking-glass; see whether you have received one. If I have any way satisfied your desire, God be praised; if not, howsoever, God be praised. I have given you what our Lord hath given me; but, be they better or worse, I desire you sometimes to read them over. Fare you well, and pray for me.

FINIS.

Index of Pages of the Print Edition