Month: November 2026

I call upon You, my God, my mercy, who made me and who did not forget me, though I forgot You. I call You into my soul, which You prepare to receive You by the desire You inspire in it. Do not forsake me as I call upon You, for You reached out to me before I called, and insistently urged me with many calls that I should hear You from far away, turn back, and call upon You who called me. For You, O Lord, have wiped out all my evil deeds, so that You would not repay into my hands the means by which I fell away from You, and You have preceded all my good deeds, so that You might repay into Your hands the means by which You made me. Before I existed, You were, and I was not anything to which You might grant being. And yet look, I exist, out of Your goodness, which comes before all this which You have made me and out of which You have made me. For You had no need of me, nor am I such a good as to be helpful to You, my Lord and God. I do not serve You as though You were tired from working, or as though Your power would be diminished if it lacked my help, or as though I cultivate You like land that would be uncultivated if I did not cultivate You. Rather, I serve and worship You so that I may have well-being from You, from whom comes the fact that I am one capable of well-being.

1. I Call upon You, my God, my mercy, who made me, and who did not forget me, though forgetful of You. I call You into my soul, which by the desire which Thou inspirest in it Thou preparest for Your reception. Do not Thou forsake me calling upon You, who anticipated me before I called, and importunately urged with manifold calls that I should hear You from afar, and be converted, and call upon You who called me. For Thou, O Lord, have blotted out all my evil deserts, that You might not repay into my hands wherewith I have fallen from You, and You have anticipated all my good deserts, that You might repay into Your hands wherewith You made me; because before I was, You were, nor was I [anything] to which You might grant being. And yet behold, I am, out of Your goodness, anticipating all this which You have made me, and of which You have made me. For neither had Thou stood in need of me, nor am I such a good as to be helpful unto You, my Lord and God; not that I may so serve You as though You were fatigued in working, or lest Your power may be less if lacking my assistance nor that, like the land, I may so cultivate You that You would be uncultivated did I cultivate You not but that I may serve and worship You, to the end that I may have well-being from You; from whom it is that I am one susceptible of well-being.

For out of the fullness of Your goodness Your creature exists, so that a good—which could benefit You in no way, and which though coming from You was not equal to You—might nevertheless exist, because it could be made by You. For what did heaven and earth, which You made in the beginning, deserve from You? Let those spiritual and bodily natures, which You made in Your wisdom, declare what they have deserved from You to depend upon You for their existence—even the unfinished and formless realities, each in its own kind, either spiritual or bodily, tending toward excess and toward extreme unlikeness to You (the spiritual, though formless, more excellent than if it were a formed body; and the bodily, though formless, more excellent than if it were nothing at all), and thus as formless things they would depend upon Your Word, unless by that same Word they were called back to Your Unity, and given form, and from You, the one supreme Good, were all made very good. How have they deserved from You that they should be even formless, since they would not be even this much except from You?

2. For of the plenitude of Your goodness Your creature subsists, that a good, which could profit You nothing, nor though of You was equal to You, might yet be, since it could be made of You. For what did heaven and earth, which You made in the beginning, deserve of You? Let those spiritual and corporeal natures, which Thou in Your wisdom made, declare what they deserve of You to depend thereon — even the inchoate and formless, each in its own kind, either spiritual or corporeal, going into excess, and into remote unlikeness unto You (the spiritual, though formless, more excellent than if it were a formed body; and the corporeal, though formless, more excellent than if it were altogether nothing), and thus they as formless would depend upon Your Word, unless by the same Word they were recalled to Your Unity, and endued with form, and from You, the one sovereign Good, were all made very good. How have they deserved of You, that they should be even formless, since they would not be even this except from You?

How has physical matter deserved from You to be even invisible and formless, since it would not have even this existence if You had not made it? And since it did not exist, it could not deserve from You that it should be made. Or how could the unformed spiritual creature deserve from You that even it should drift darkly like the deep—unlike You—if it had not been turned by the same Word through Whom it was created toward that by Whom it was made, and then enlightened by Him to become light? Though not equally, it was made conformable to that Form which is equal to You. For just as with a body, to exist is not the same as being beautiful (otherwise it could not be deformed), so also with a created spirit, to live is not the same as living wisely (for then it would be wise unchangeably). But it is good for it always to cling fast to You, lest by turning away from You it lose the light it obtained by turning to You, and fall back into a light resembling the dark deep. For even we ourselves, who as regards the soul are a spiritual creature, having turned away from You, our light, were in that life sometimes darkness, and still labor amid the remnants of our darkness, until in Your Only One we become Your righteousness, like the mountains of God. For we have been Your judgments, which are like the great deep.

3. How has corporeal matter deserved of You, to be even invisible and formless, Genesis 1:2 since it were not even this had Thou not made it; and therefore since it was not, it could not deserve of You that it should be made? Or how could the inchoate spiritual creature deserve of You, that even it should flow darksomely like the deep — unlike You, had it not been by the same Word turned to that by Whom it was created, and by Him so enlightened become light, although not equally, yet conformably to that Form which is equal unto You? For as to a body, to be is not all one with being beautiful, for then it could not be deformed; so also to a created spirit, to live is not all one with living wisely, for then it would be wise unchangeably. But it is good for it always to hold fast unto You, lest, in turning from You, it lose that light which it has obtained in turning to You, and relapse into a light resembling the darksome deep. For even we ourselves, who in respect of the soul are a spiritual creature, having turned away from You, our light, were in that life sometimes darkness; Ephesians 5:8 and do labour amidst the remains of our darkness, until in Your Only One we become Your righteousness, like the mountains of God. For we have been Your judgments, which are like the great deep.

But when you said at the beginning of creation, "Let there be light, and there was light," I reasonably understand this as referring to the spiritual creature, because there already existed a kind of life that you could illuminate. However, just as it had not earned from you the right to be the kind of life that could be enlightened, neither has it earned from you the right to be enlightened now that it exists. Its formless state could not please you unless it became light—not simply by existing, but by gazing upon the illuminating light and holding fast to it. Similarly, the fact that it lives and lives happily is owed entirely to your grace. Through a transforming change for the better, it is converted to that which cannot be changed into anything better or worse. Only you are this, because only you simply are—for you, living and living blessedly are not two different things, since you yourself are your own blessedness.

4. But what Thou said in the beginning of the creation, Let there be light, and there was light, Genesis 1:3 I do not unfitly understand of the spiritual creature; because there was even then a kind of life, which You might illuminate. But as it had not deserved of You that it should be such a life as could be enlightened, so neither, when it already was, has it deserved of You that it should be enlightened. For neither could its formlessness be pleasing unto You, unless it became light — not by merely existing, but by beholding the illuminating light, and cleaving unto it; so also, that it lives, and lives happily, it owes to nothing whatsoever but to Your grace; being converted by means of a better change unto that which can be changed neither into better nor into worse; the which Thou only art because Thou only simply art, to whom it is not one thing to live, another to live blessedly, since You are Yourself Your own Blessedness.

What, then, could be lacking in your goodness, which you yourself are, even if these things had never existed or had remained formless—things which you did not make out of any need, but out of the fullness of your goodness, holding them back and turning them into form, not because your joy was completed by them? Since you are perfect, their imperfection displeases you, and so they were perfected by you and became pleasing to you; but not as though you were imperfect and would be perfected by their perfection. For your good Spirit was borne over the waters, not held up by them as though he rested upon them. For those in whom your good Spirit is said to rest, he causes them to rest in himself. But your incorruptible and unchangeable will, which is completely sufficient for itself in itself, was borne over that life which you had made—a life for which simply living is not the same as living happily, since it lives even while flowing along in its own darkness. It remains for that life to be turned back to him by whom it was made, and to live more and more from the fountain of life, and in his light to see light, and to be perfected, and enlightened, and made happy.

5. What, therefore, could there be wanting unto Your good, which You Yourself art, although these things had either never been, or had remained formless — the which You made not out of any want, but out of the plenitude of Your goodness, restraining them and converting them to form not as though Your joy were perfected by them? For to You, being perfect, their imperfection is displeasing, and therefore were they perfected by You, and were pleasing unto You; but not as if You were imperfect, and were to be perfected in their perfection. For Your good Spirit was borne over the waters, Genesis 1:2 not borne up by them as if He rested upon them. For those in whom Your good Spirit is said to rest, Numbers 11:25 He causes to rest in Himself. But Your incorruptible and unchangeable will, which in itself is all-sufficient for itself, was borne over that life which You had made, to which to live is not all one with living happily, since, flowing in its own darkness, it lives also; for which it remains to be converted unto Him by whom it was made, and to live more and more by the fountain of life, and in His light to see light, and to be perfected, and enlightened, and made happy.

Look now, the Trinity appears to me in an enigma, and You, O my God, are that Trinity, since You, O Father, in the Beginning of our wisdom—which is Your Wisdom, born of Yourself, equal and co-eternal with You—that is, in Your Son, have created heaven and earth. We have said many things about the heaven of heavens, and about the earth invisible and formless, and about the darksome deep, with reference to the wandering defects of its spiritual deformity, which would have remained unless it had been converted to Him from whom came its life, such as it was, and which by His enlightening became a beautiful life, and the heaven of that heaven which was afterwards set between water and water. And under the name of God, I now understood the Father, who made these things; and under the name of the Beginning, the Son, in whom He made these things; and believing, as I did, that my God was the Trinity, I searched further in His holy words, and look, Your Spirit was borne over the waters. Look at the Trinity, O my God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—the Creator of all creation.

6. Behold now, the Trinity appears unto me in an enigma, which Thou, O my God, art, since Thou, O Father, in the Beginning of our wisdom — Which is Your Wisdom, born of Yourself, equal and co-eternal unto You — that is, in Your Son, hast created heaven and earth. Many things have we said of the heaven of heavens, and of the earth invisible and formless, and of the darksome deep, in reference to the wandering defects of its spiritual deformity, were it not converted unto Him from whom was its life, such as it was, and by His enlightening became a beauteous life, and the heaven of that heaven which was afterwards set between water and water. And under the name of God, I now held the Father, who made these things; and under the name of the Beginning, the Son, in whom He made these things; and believing, as I did, that my God was the Trinity, I sought further in His holy words, and behold, Your Spirit was borne over the waters. Behold the Trinity, O my God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost — the Creator of all creation.

But what was the cause, O You who speak the truth as Light? I lift up my heart to You—let it not teach me empty things. Scatter its darkness, and tell me, I beg You, by our mother charity, tell me, I beg You, the reason why Your Scripture mentions Your Spirit only after mentioning heaven and the invisible and formless earth, and darkness upon the deep. Was it because it was fitting that He should be spoken of as being borne over, and this could not be said unless what Your Spirit is understood to have been borne over was mentioned first? For He was not borne over the Father, nor the Son, nor could it rightly be said that He was borne over if He were borne over nothing. Therefore, what He might be borne over had to be spoken of first, and then He, whom it was not fitting to mention in any other way than as having been borne over. Why, then, was it not fitting that He should be mentioned in any other way than as being borne over?

7. But what was the cause, O Thou true-speaking Light? Unto You do I lift up my heart, let it not teach me vain things; disperse its darkness, and tell me, I beseech You, by our mother charity, tell me, I beseech You, the reason why, after the mention of heaven, and of the earth invisible and formless, and darkness upon the deep, Your Scripture should then at length mention Your Spirit? Was it because it was meet that it should be spoken of Him that He was borne over, and this could not be said, unless that were first mentioned over which Your Spirit may be understood to have been borne? For neither was He borne over the Father, nor the Son, nor could it rightly be said that He was borne over if He were borne over nothing. That, therefore, was first to be spoken of over which He might be borne; and then He, whom it was not meet to mention otherwise than as having been borne. Why, then, was it not meet that it should otherwise be mentioned of Him, than as having been borne over?

Let anyone who is able now follow your apostle with his understanding where he speaks this way, because "Your love is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us" (Romans 5:5), and where, concerning spiritual gifts, he teaches and shows us a more excellent way of charity, and where he bows his knees to You for us, that we may know the super-eminent knowledge of the love of Christ (Ephesians 3:14-19). And therefore, from the beginning He was super-eminently borne above the waters. To whom shall I tell this? How can I speak of the weight of lustful desires, pressing downward to the steep abyss? And how does charity raise us up again, through Your Spirit which was borne over the waters? To whom shall I tell it? How can I tell it? For there are not places in which we are submerged and from which we emerge. What can be more similar, and yet more different? They are affections, they are loves: the filthiness of our spirit flowing away downward with the love of cares, and the holiness of Yours raising us upward by the love of freedom from care, so that we may lift our hearts to You where Your Spirit is borne over the waters, and so that we may come to that pre-eminent rest, when our soul shall have passed through the waters which have no substance.

8. Hence let him that is able now follow Your apostle with his understanding where he thus speaks, because Your love is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us; Romans 5:5 and where, concerning spiritual gifts, he teaches and shows unto us a more excellent way of charity; and where he bows his knees unto You for us, that we may know the super-eminent knowledge of the love of Christ. Ephesians 3:14-19 And, therefore, from the beginning was He super-eminently borne above the waters. To whom shall I tell this? How speak of the weight of lustful desires, pressing downwards to the steep abyss? And how charity raises us up again, through Your Spirit which was borne over the waters? To whom shall I tell it? How tell it? For neither are there places in which we are merged and emerge. What can be more like, and yet more unlike? They be affections, they be loves; the filthiness of our spirit flowing away downwards with the love of cares, and the sanctity of Yours raising us upwards by the love of freedom from care; that we may lift our hearts unto You where Your Spirit is borne over the waters; and that we may come to that pre-eminent rest, when our soul shall have passed through the waters which have no substance.

The angels fell, and the soul of man fell, showing us the abyss in that dark depth that was ready for all spiritual creation—unless You had said from the beginning, "Let there be light," and there had been light, and every obedient intelligence of Your heavenly City had clung to You and rested in Your Spirit, which is unchangeably carried over everything changeable. Otherwise, even the heaven of heavens itself would have been a dark abyss, whereas now it is light in the Lord. For even in that miserable restlessness of the spirits who fell away and, when stripped of the garments of Your light, discovered their own darkness, You show clearly enough how noble You have made the rational creature. Nothing less than You will be enough to give her a happy rest—not even herself. For You, O our God, will enlighten our darkness; from You come our garments of light, and then our darkness will be as bright as noon. Give Yourself to me, O my God, restore Yourself to me. Look, I love You, and if that is too little, let me love You more strongly. I cannot measure my love so that I may know how much is still lacking in me before my life runs into Your embrace and is not turned away until it is hidden in the secret place of Your presence. This only I know: that I am in misery except in You—not only outside myself, but even within myself; and all abundance that is not my God is poverty to me.

9. The angels fell, the soul of man fell and they have thus indicated the abyss in that dark deep, ready for the whole spiritual creation, unless You had said from the beginning, Let there be light, and there had been light, and every obedient intelligence of Your celestial City had cleaved to You, and rested in Your Spirit, which unchangeably is borne over everything changeable. Otherwise, even the heaven of heavens itself would have been a darksome deep, whereas now it is light in the Lord. For even in that wretched restlessness of the spirits who fell away, and, when unclothed of the garments of Your light, discovered their own darkness, dost Thou sufficiently disclose how noble You have made the rational creature; to which nought which is inferior to You will suffice to yield a happy rest, and so not even herself. For Thou, O our God, shall enlighten our darkness; from You are derived our garments of light, and then shall our darkness be as the noonday. Give Yourself unto me, O my God, restore Yourself unto me; behold, I love You, and if it be too little, let me love You more strongly. I cannot measure my love, so that I may come to know how much there is yet wanting in me, ere my life run into Your embracements, and not be turned away until it be hidden in the secret place of Your Presence. This only I know, that woe is me except in You — not only without, but even also within myself; and all plenty which is not my God is poverty to me.

If we understand this to mean in space, as a body would be, then neither was the Holy Spirit borne over the waters in that way. But if we understand it to mean the unchangeable excellence of divinity standing above everything that changes, then the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit were all borne over the waters. Why, then, is this said only of your Spirit? Why is it said of him alone, as if he were in a physical place when he is not in any place? Yet it is written only of him that he is your gift. In your gift we find rest; there we enjoy you. Our rest is our proper place. Love lifts us up to that place, and your good Spirit lifts our lowliness from the gates of death. In your good pleasure lies our peace. A body is drawn by its own weight toward its proper place. Weight does not only go downward but toward its proper place. Fire tends upward, a stone downward. They are moved by their own weights; they seek their proper places. Oil poured under water rises above the water; water poured on oil sinks below the oil. They are moved by their own weights; they seek their proper places. When out of order, they are restless; when restored to order, they are at rest. My weight is my love; I am carried wherever I am carried by it. By your gift we are set on fire and carried upward; we grow hot within and move forward. We ascend the ways that are in our heart and sing a song of ascents; we glow within with your fire, your good fire, and we go because we go upward to the peace of Jerusalem. For I was glad when they said to me, Let us go into the house of the Lord. There your good pleasure has placed us, so that we may desire nothing else than to dwell there forever.

10. But was not either the Father or the Son borne over the waters? If we understand this to mean in space, as a body, then neither was the Holy Spirit; but if the incommutable super-eminence of Divinity above everything mutable, then both Father, and Son, and Holy Ghost were borne over the waters. Why, then, is this said of Your Spirit only? Why is it said of Him alone? As if He had been in place who is not in place, of whom only it is written, that He is Your gift? In Your gift we rest; there we enjoy You. Our rest is our place. Love lifts us up there, and Your good Spirit lifts our lowliness from the gates of death. In Your good pleasure lies our peace. The body by its own weight gravitates towards its own place. Weight goes not downward only, but to its own place. Fire tends upwards, a stone downwards. They are propelled by their own weights, they seek their own places. Oil poured under the water is raised above the water; water poured upon oil sinks under the oil. They are propelled by their own weights, they seek their own places. Out of order, they are restless; restored to order, they are at rest. My weight is my love; by it am I borne wherever I am borne. By Your Gift we are inflamed, and are borne upwards; we wax hot inwardly, and go forwards. We ascend Your ways that be in our heart, and sing a song of degrees; we glow inwardly with Your fire, with Your good fire, and we go, because we go upwards to the peace of Jerusalem; for glad was I when they said to me, Let us go into the house of the Lord. There has Your good pleasure placed us, that we may desire no other thing than to dwell there forever.

Happy creature, which, though it was different from You in itself, has never known any state other than this: as soon as it was made, it was immediately raised up by Your Gift—which moves over everything changeable—through that calling by which You said, "Let there be light," and there was light, with no gap in time. While for us there is a difference in time, since we were darkness and have been made light, for that creature it is only said what it would have been if it had not been enlightened. This is stated as if it had been unstable and dark before, so that the cause by which it was made different might be clear—namely, that by turning to the Light that never fails, it became light. Let whoever can understand this do so; and let whoever cannot ask You. Why should he trouble me, as if I could enlighten any person who comes into the world?

11. Happy creature, which, though in itself it was other than You, has known no other state than that as soon as it was made, it was, without any interval of time, by Your Gift, which is borne over everything mutable, raised up by that calling whereby Thou said, Let there be light, and there was light. Whereas in us there is a difference of times, in that we were darkness, and are made light; Ephesians 5:8 but of that it is only said what it would have been had it not been enlightened. And this is so spoken as if it had been fleeting and darksome before; that so the cause whereby it was made to be otherwise might appear — that is to say, being turned to the unfailing Light it might become light. Let him who is able understand this; and let him who is not, ask of You. Why should he trouble me, as if I could enlighten any man that comes into the world?

Who among us understands the Almighty Trinity? And yet who does not speak about it, if indeed this is what we're speaking about? It is rare to find a person who, while speaking about it, actually knows what they are talking about. People argue and debate, but no one sees that vision without peace. I wish that people would carefully consider these three things that exist within themselves. These three are very different from the Trinity, but I mention them so that people may exercise and test themselves with them, and discover just how different they actually are. The three things I'm talking about are: to be, to know, and to will. For I exist, and I know, and I will; I exist as one who knows and wills; and I know that I exist and that I will; and I will to exist and to know. In these three things, then, let whoever can perceive how inseparable a life there is—one life, one mind, and one essence—and finally, how inseparable yet distinct they are. Certainly anyone has this before them; let them look within themselves, observe it, and tell me about it. But when someone discovers something about these things and can articulate it, they should not then assume they have discovered that which is above these things—the Unchangeable, which exists unchangeably, and knows unchangeably, and wills unchangeably. And whether because of these three things there is also a Trinity where they exist; or whether these three exist in each person of the Trinity so that all three belong to each one; or whether both explanations are simultaneously true—in a manner that is wonderfully simple yet diverse, a limit unto itself within itself, yet unlimited; by which the Trinity exists and knows itself and is sufficient unto itself, unchangeably the same, through the abundant greatness of its unity—who can easily grasp this? Who can express it in any way? Who would rashly pronounce judgment on it?

12. Which of us understands the Almighty Trinity? And yet which speaks not of It, if indeed it be It? Rare is that soul which, while it speaks of It, knows what it speaks of. And they contend and strive, but no one without peace sees that vision. I could wish that men would consider these three things that are in themselves. These three are far other than the Trinity; but I speak of things in which they may exercise and prove themselves, and feel how far other they be. But the three things I speak of are, To Be, to Know, and to Will. For I Am, and I Know, and I Will; I Am Knowing and Willing; and I Know myself to Be and to Will; and I Will to Be and to Know. In these three, therefore, let him who can see how inseparable a life there is — even one life, one mind, and one essence; finally, how inseparable is the distinction, and yet a distinction. Surely a man has it before him; let him look into himself, and see, and tell me. But when he discovers and can say anything of these, let him not then think that he has discovered that which is above these Unchangeable, which Is unchangeably, and Knows unchangeably, and Wills unchangeably. And whether on account of these three there is also, where they are, a Trinity; or whether these three be in Each, so that the three belong to Each; or whether both ways at once, wondrously, simply, and vet diversely, in Itself a limit unto Itself, yet illimitable; whereby It is, and is known unto Itself, and suffices to Itself, unchangeably the Self-same, by the abundant magnitude of its Unity — who can readily conceive? Who in any wise express it? Who in any way rashly pronounce thereon?

Proceed in your confession, say to the Lord your God, O my faith, Holy, Holy, Holy, O Lord my God, in Your name we have been baptized, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, in Your name we baptize, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, because among us also in His Christ God made heaven and earth, namely, the spiritual and physical people of His Church. Yes, and our earth, before it received the form of teaching, was invisible and formless, and we were covered with the darkness of ignorance. For You correct human beings for sin, and Your judgments are a great deep. But because Your Spirit was carried over the waters, Your mercy did not abandon our misery, and You said, Let there be light, Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near. Repent, let there be light. And because our soul was troubled within us, we remembered You, O Lord, from the land of Jordan, and that mountain equal to Yourself, but made small for our sake; and being displeased with our darkness, we turned to You, and there was light. And look, we were once darkness, but now we are light in the Lord.

13. Proceed in your confession, say to the Lord your God, O my faith, Holy, Holy, Holy, O Lord my God, in Your name have we been baptized, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, in Your name do we baptize, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, Matthew 28:19 because among us also in His Christ did God make heaven and earth, namely, the spiritual and carnal people of His Church. Yea, and our earth, before it received the form of doctrine, Romans 6:17 was invisible and formless, and we were covered with the darkness of ignorance. For Thou correctest man for iniquity, and Your judgments are a great deep. But because Your Spirit was borne over the waters, Genesis 1:3 Your mercy forsook not our misery, and Thou said, Let there be light, Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Matthew 3:2 Repent, let there be light. And because our soul was troubled within us, we remembered You, O Lord, from the land of Jordan, and that mountain equal unto Yourself, but little for our sakes; and upon our being displeased with our darkness, we turned unto You, and there was light. And, behold, we were sometimes darkness, but now light in the Lord. Ephesians 5:8

For now we live by faith, not by sight, because we are saved by hope; but hope that is seen is not hope. For now deep calls to deep in the noise of Your waterspouts. And even the one who says, I could not speak to you as spiritual people, but as carnal ones, even he does not yet consider himself to have grasped it, and he forgets what lies behind and reaches forward to what lies ahead, and groans under his burden; and his soul thirsts for the living God, as the deer thirsts for water-brooks, and says, When shall I come? He desires to be clothed with his house which is from heaven, and he calls to this lower deep, saying, Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. And, Do not be children in understanding, but in malice be children, so that in understanding you may be mature; and O foolish Galatians, who has bewitched you? But now not in his own voice, but in Yours who sent Your Spirit from above, through Him who ascended up on high and opened the flood-gates of His gifts, so that the force of His streams might make glad the city of God. For the friend of the bridegroom sighs for Him, having now the first-fruits of the Spirit stored up with Him, yet still groaning within himself, waiting for the adoption, that is, the redemption of his body. He sighs to Him, because he is a member of the Bride; he is jealous for Him, because he is the friend of the Bridegroom; he is jealous for Him, not for himself; because it is in the voice of Your waterspouts, not in his own voice, that he calls to that other deep, for whom being jealous he fears, lest just as the serpent deceived Eve through his cunning, so their minds should be corrupted from the purity that is in our Bridegroom, Your only Son. What a light of beauty that will be when we shall see Him as He is, and those tears will have passed away which have been my food day and night, while they continually say to me, Where is your God?

14. But as yet by faith, not by sight, 2 Corinthians 5:7 for we are saved by hope; but hope that is seen is not hope. Romans 8:24 As yet deep calls unto deep but in the noise of Your waterspouts. And as yet does he that says, I could not speak unto you as unto spiritual, but as unto carnal, 1 Corinthians 3:1 even he, as yet, does not count himself to have apprehended, and forgets those things which are behind, and reaches forth to those things which are before, Philippians 3:13 and groans being burdened; and his soul thirsts after the living God, as the hart after the water-brooks, and says, When shall I come? desiring to be clothed upon with his house which is from heaven; 2 Corinthians 5:2 and calls upon this lower deep, saying, Be not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Romans 12:2 And, Be not children in understanding, howbeit in malice be children, that in understanding you may be perfect; and O foolish Galatians, who has bewitched you? Galatians 3:1 But now not in his own voice, but in Yours who sent Your Spirit from above; Acts 2:19 through Him who ascended up on high, Ephesians 4:8 and set open the flood-gates of His gifts, Malachi 3:10 that the force of His streams might make glad the city of God. For, for Him does the friend of the bridegroom John 3:29 sigh, having now the first-fruits of the Spirit laid up with Him, yet still groaning within himself, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of his body; Romans 8:23 to Him he sighs, for he is a member of the Bride; for Him is he jealous, for he is the friend of the Bridegroom; John 3:29 for Him is he jealous, not for himself; because in the voice of Your waterspouts, not in his own voice, does he call on that other deep, for whom being jealous he fears, lest that, as the serpent beguiled Eve through his subtlety, so their minds should be corrupted from the simplicity that is in our Bridegroom, You only Son. What a light of beauty will that be when we shall see Him as He is, and those tears be passed away which have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is your God?

I say the same, my God: where are You? Look, there You are! In You I catch my breath for a moment when I pour out my soul alone in the voice of joy and praise, the sound of one celebrating a feast. Yet my soul is still cast down because it falls back and becomes a deep—or rather it realizes that it still is a deep. My faith, which You have kindled to light my path in the night, speaks to it: Why are you cast down, my soul, and why are you troubled within me? Hope in God, for His word is a lamp to my feet. Hope and endure until the night passes—the night that is the mother of the wicked—until the Lord's anger passes, for we too were once children of that night, we who were formerly darkness, whose remnants we still carry in our body that is dead because of sin, until the day dawns and the shadows flee away. Hope in the Lord. In the morning I will stand in Your presence and look upon You; I will confess to You forever. In the morning I will stand in Your presence and will see the salvation of my countenance, my God, who will also give life to our mortal bodies by the Spirit who dwells in us, because in His mercy He hovered over our inner darkness and churning deep. From this we have received in this pilgrimage a pledge that we should now be light, though we are still saved by hope, and are children of light and children of the day—not children of the night or of the darkness, which we once were. Between them and us, in this still uncertain state of human knowledge, You alone make the division, You who test our hearts and call the light day and the darkness night. For who distinguishes us except You? And what do we have that we have not received from You? From the same lump are made vessels for honor, just as others are also made for dishonor.

15. And so say I too, O my God, where are You? Behold where You are! In You I breathe a little, when I pour out my soul by myself in the voice of joy and praise, the sound of him that keeps holy-day. And yet it is cast down, because it relapses and becomes a deep, or rather it feels that it is still a deep. Unto it does my faith speak which You have kindled to enlighten my feet in the night, Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you disquieted in me? hope in God; His word is a lamp unto my feet. Hope and endure until the night — the mother of the wicked — until the anger of the Lord be overpast, Job 14:13 whereof we also were once children who were sometimes darkness, the remains whereof we carry about us in our body, dead on account of sin, Romans 8:10 until the day break and the shadows flee away. Song of Songs 2:17 Hope in the Lord. In the morning I shall stand in Your presence, and contemplate You; I shall for ever confess unto You. In the morning I shall stand in Your presence, and shall see the health of my countenance, my God, who also shall quicken our mortal bodies by the Spirit that dwells in us, Romans 8:11 because in mercy He was borne over our inner darksome and floating deep. Whence we have in this pilgrimage received an earnest 2 Corinthians 1:22 that we should now be light, while as yet we are saved by hope, Romans 8:24 and are the children of light, and the children of the day — not the children of the night nor of the darkness, which yet we have been. Between whom and us, in this as yet uncertain state of human knowledge, Thou only dividest, who provest our hearts and callest the light day, and the darkness night. Genesis 1:5 For who discerns us but Thou? But what have we that we have not received of You? 1 Corinthians 4:7 Out of the same lump vessels unto honour, of which others also are made to dishonour. Romans 9:21

Or who but You, our God, made for us that firmament of authority over us in Your divine Scripture? As it is said, "For heaven shall be folded up like a scroll," and now it is extended over us like a skin. For Your divine Scripture has more sublime authority because those mortals through whom You gave it to us experienced mortality. And You know, O Lord, You know, how You clothed men with skins when they became mortal through sin. This is why You have stretched out the firmament of Your Book like a skin—that is, Your harmonious words, which You have spread over us through the service of mortal men. For through their very death, that solid firmament of authority in Your words proclaimed by them is extended more sublimely above all things beneath it. While they were still living here, it was not extended so prominently. You had not yet spread out the heaven like a skin; You had not yet proclaimed everywhere the news of their deaths.

16. Or who but Thou, our God, made for us that firmament Genesis 1:6 of authority over us in Your divine Scripture? As it is said, For heaven shall be folded up like a scroll; and now it is extended over us like a skin. For Your divine Scripture is of more sublime authority, since those mortals through whom You dispensed it unto us underwent mortality. And You know, O Lord, You know, how Thou with skins clothed men when by sin they became mortal. Whence as a skin have You stretched out the firmament of Your Book; that is to say, Your harmonious words, which by the ministry of mortals You have spread over us. For by their very death is that solid firmament of authority in Your discourses set forth by them more sublimely extended above all things that are under it, the which, while they were living here, was not so eminently extended. You had not as yet spread abroad the heaven like a skin; You had not as yet announced everywhere the report of their deaths.

Let us look, O Lord, upon the heavens, the work of Your fingers; clear from our eyes that mist with which You have covered them. There is that testimony of Yours which gives wisdom to the little ones. Perfect, O my God, Your praise out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants. Nor have we known any other books so destructive to pride, so destructive to the enemy and the defender who resists Your reconciliation in defense of his own sins. I know not, O Lord, I know not other such pure words which so persuade me to confession, and make my neck submissive to Your yoke, and invite me to serve You for nothing. Let me understand these things, good Father. Grant this to me, placed under them, because You have established these things for those placed under them.

17. Let us look, O Lord, upon the heavens, the work of Your fingers; clear from our eyes that mist with which You have covered them. There is that testimony of Yours which gives wisdom unto the little ones. Perfect, O my God, Your praise out of the mouth of babes and sucklings. Nor have we known any other books so destructive to pride, so destructive to the enemy and the defender, who resists Your reconciliation in defense of his own sins. I know not, O Lord, I know not other such pure words which so persuade me to confession, and make my neck submissive to Your yoke, and invite me to serve You for nought. Let me understand these things, good Father. Grant this to me, placed under them; because You have established these things for those placed under them.

There are other waters above this firmament—I believe they are immortal and free from earthly decay. Let those super-celestial people, your angels, who have no need to look up at this firmament or to learn of your Word by reading, praise your Name. They always behold your face, and there they read without any syllables marked by time what your eternal will desires. They read, they choose, they love. They are always reading, and what they read never passes away. By choosing and loving, they read the very unchangeableness of your plan. Their book is never closed, nor is their scroll ever rolled up, because you yourself are this to them, and you are so eternally. You have placed them above this firmament, which you made firm over the weakness of the people below, so that these lower people might look up and learn of your mercy, which declares in time the God who made all times. For your mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens, and your faithfulness reaches to the clouds. The clouds pass away, but the heaven remains. The preachers of your Word pass from this life into another, but your Scripture is spread among the people even to the end of the world. Yes, both heaven and earth will pass away, but your words will not pass away. The scroll will be rolled up, and the grass over which it was spread will pass away with all its beauty, but your Word remains forever. That Word now appears to us in the dark image of the clouds and through the glass of the heavens, but not as it truly is, because even though we are the beloved of your Son, it has not yet appeared what we shall be. He looks through the lattice of our flesh, and he speaks beautifully and has inflamed us, and we run after his fragrance. But when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. As he is, O Lord, we shall see him, though the time is not yet.

18. Other waters there be above this firmament, I believe immortal, and removed from earthly corruption. Let them praise Your Name — those super-celestial people, Your angels, who have no need to look up at this firmament, or by reading to attain the knowledge of Your Word, — let them praise You. For they always behold Your face, Matthew 18:10 and therein read without any syllables in time what Your eternal will wills. They read, they choose, they love. They are always reading; and that which they read never passes away. For, by choosing and by loving, they read the very unchangeableness of Your counsel. Their book is not closed, nor is the scroll folded up, Isaiah 34:4 because You Yourself art this to them, yea, and art so eternally; because You have appointed them above this firmament, which You have made firm over the weakness of the lower people, where they might look up and learn Your mercy, announcing in time You who hast made times. For Your mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens, and Your faithfulness reaches unto the clouds. The clouds pass away, but the heaven remains. The preachers of Your Word pass away from this life into another; but Your Scripture is spread abroad over the people, even to the end of the world. Yea, both heaven and earth shall pass away, but Your Words shall not pass away. Matthew 24:35 Because the scroll shall be rolled together, Isaiah 34:4 and the grass over which it was spread shall with its goodliness pass away; but Your Word remains for ever, which now appears unto us in the dark image of the clouds, and through the glass of the heavens, not as it is; 1 Corinthians 13:12 because we also, although we be the well-beloved of Your Son, yet it has not yet appeared what we shall be. 1 John 3:2 He looks through the lattice Song of Songs 2:9 of our flesh, and He is fair-speaking, and has inflamed us, and we run after His odours. Song of Songs 1:3 But when He shall appear, then shall we be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. 1 John 3:2 As He is, O Lord, shall we see Him, although the time be not yet.

You alone know Yourself fully as You truly are, because You are unchangeable, and You know unchangeably, and You will unchangeably. And Your Essence Knows and Wills unchangeably; and Your Knowledge Is, and Wills unchangeably; and Your Will Is, and Knows unchangeably. It does not seem right to You that the Unchangeable Light should be known by what is enlightened and changeable in the same way that the Unchangeable Light knows Itself. Therefore my soul is like a land without water before You, because just as it cannot give light to itself, so it cannot satisfy itself. For the fountain of life is with You, and in Your light we shall see light.

19. For altogether as You are, Thou only know, Who art unchangeably, and know unchangeably, and willest unchangeably. And Your Essence Knows and Wills unchangeably; and Your Knowledge Is, and Wills unchangeably; and Your Will Is, and Knows unchangeably. Nor does it appear just to You, that as the Unchangeable Light knows Itself, so should It be known by that which is enlightened and changeable. Therefore unto You is my soul as land where no water is, because as it cannot of itself enlighten itself, so it cannot of itself satisfy itself. For so is the fountain of life with You, like as in Your light we shall see light.

Who has gathered the bitter people together into one society? For they all have the same goal: temporal and earthly happiness, for which they do everything, even though they may waver with countless different concerns. Who, O Lord, unless You, said, "Let the waters be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear, which thirsts after You"? For the sea is also Yours, and You made it, and Your hands prepared the dry land. For it is not the bitterness of human wills, but the gathering together of waters that is called sea. For You also restrain the wicked desires of human souls, and You set their boundaries—how far they may be permitted to go—and their waves break against each other. And thus You make it a sea, by the ordering of Your dominion over all things.

20. Who has gathered the embittered together into one society? For they have all the same end, that of temporal and earthly happiness, on account of which they do all things, although they may fluctuate with an innumerable variety of cares. Who, O Lord, unless Thou, said, Let the waters be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear, which thirsts after You? For the sea also is Yours, and You have made it, and Your hands prepared the dry land. For neither is the bitterness of men's wills, but the gathering together of waters called sea; for Thou even curbest the wicked desires of men's souls, and fixest their bounds, how far they may be permitted to advance, and that their waves may be broken against each other; and thus dost Thou make it a sea, by the order of Your dominion over all things.

The souls that thirst for You and appear before You are separated by other boundaries from the society of the sea. You water them through a secret and sweet spring so that the earth may bring forth its fruit. You, O Lord God, command this so that our soul may produce works of mercy according to their kind—loving our neighbor by relieving his bodily needs. We have seed in ourselves according to our likeness when, out of our own weakness, we feel compassion that leads us to help the needy. We help them in the same way we would want to be helped if we were in similar need. This applies not only to easy things, like herb yielding seed, but also to protecting others through our assistance and strength, like the tree yielding fruit. This means doing good by rescuing someone who suffers injury from the hand of the powerful, and providing them with the shelter of protection through the mighty strength of just judgment.

21. But as for the souls that thirst after You, and that appear before You (being by other bounds divided from the society of the sea), them Thou waterest by a secret and sweet spring, that the earth may bring forth her fruit, and, You, O Lord God, so commanding, our soul may bud forth works of mercy according to their kind, — loving our neighbour in the relief of his bodily necessities, having seed in itself according to its likeness, when from our infirmity we compassionate even to the relieving of the needy; helping them in a like manner as we would that help should be brought unto us if we were in a like need; not only in the things that are easy, as in herb yielding seed, but also in the protection of our assistance, in our very strength, like the tree yielding fruit; that is, a good turn in delivering him who suffers an injury from the hand of the powerful, and in furnishing him with the shelter of protection by the mighty strength of just judgment.

O Lord, I beg you, let this happen just as you create it and give us joy and ability—let truth spring from the earth, let righteousness look down from heaven, and let there be lights in the firmament. Let us share our bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into our house. Let us clothe the naked and not despise those who are our own flesh and blood. When these fruits have sprung from the earth, see that it is good, and let our temporary light break forth. From this lower fruit of action, as we possess the joys of contemplation and of the Word of Life above, let us appear as lights in the world, holding fast to the firmament of your Scripture. For in Scripture you make it clear to us that we should distinguish between things intelligible and things of sense, as if between day and night, or between souls—some devoted to intellectual things, others to sensory things. In this way, not only do you in the secret of your judgment, as before the firmament was made, divide between light and darkness, but your spiritual children also, placed and arranged in the same firmament (with your grace made visible throughout the world), may give light upon the earth and divide between day and night, and serve as signs of the times. This is because old things have passed away and all things have become new, and because our salvation is nearer than when we first believed, and because the night is far spent and the day is at hand. You will crown your year with blessing, sending the workers of your goodness into your harvest, into which others have labored in sowing, and also sending them into another field whose harvest will come at the end. In this way you grant the prayers of those who ask and bless the years of the righteous. But you are the same, and in your years that never fail you prepare a storehouse for our passing years. For by an eternal plan you bestow heavenly blessings upon the earth in their proper seasons.

22. Thus, O Lord, thus, I beseech You, let there arise, as You make, as You give joy and ability — let truth spring out of the earth, and righteousness look down from heaven, and let there be lights in the firmament. Genesis 1:14 Let us break our bread to the hungry, and let us bring the houseless poor to our house. Isaiah 58:7 Let us clothe the naked, and despise not those of our own flesh. The which fruits having sprung forth from the earth, behold, because it is good; Genesis 1:12 and let our temporary light burst forth; Isaiah 58:8 and let us, from this inferior fruit of action, possessing the delights of contemplation and of the Word of Life above, let us appear as lights in the world, Philippians 2:15 clinging to the firmament of Your Scripture. For therein You make it plain unto us, that we may distinguish between things intelligible and things of sense, as if between the day and the night; or between souls, given, some to things intellectual, others to things of sense; so that now not Thou only in the secret of Your judgment, as before the firmament was made, dividest between the light and the darkness, but Your spiritual children also, placed and ranked in the same firmament (Your grace being manifest throughout the world), may give light upon the earth, and divide between the day and night, and be for signs of times; because old things have passed away, and behold all things have become new; 2 Corinthians 5:17 and because our salvation is nearer than when we believed; Romans 13:11-12 and because the night is far spent, the day is at hand; Romans 13:11-12 and because You will crown Your year with blessing, sending the labourers of Your goodness into Your harvest, Matthew 9:38 in the sowing of which others have laboured, sending also into another field, whose harvest shall be in the end. Matthew 13:39 Thus Thou grantest the prayers of him that asks, and blessest the years of the just; Proverbs 10:6 but You are the same, and in Your years which fail not Thou preparest a garner for our passing years. For by an eternal counsel Thou dost in their proper seasons bestow upon the earth heavenly blessings.

The Spirit indeed gives to one person the word of wisdom, like the greater light, for the sake of those who delight in the light of clear truth, as at the beginning of the day. To another person the same Spirit gives the word of knowledge, like the lesser light. To another faith, to another the gift of healing, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the discerning of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues. All these are like stars. For the one and same Spirit does all these works, distributing to each person individually as He wills, and making stars appear openly to bring benefit. But the word of knowledge, in which all sacraments are contained and which varies in its seasons like the moon, along with the other expressions of gifts that are listed one after another like stars—since these fall short of that brightness of wisdom in which the previously mentioned day rejoices—these are only for the beginning of the night. They are necessary for those to whom Your most wise servant could not speak as to spiritual people, but only as to carnal ones—the same servant who speaks wisdom among those who are mature. But the natural man, who is a baby in Christ and a drinker of milk until he becomes strong enough for solid food, and until his eye is able to look upon the Sun, should not live in his own abandoned night but should be satisfied with the light of the moon and the stars. You explain these things to us, our all-wise God, in Your Book, Your firmament, so that we may understand all things in wonderful contemplation, though still in signs and in times and in days and in years.

23. For, indeed, to one is given by the Spirit the word of wisdom, as if the greater light, on account of those who are delighted with the light of manifest truth, as in the beginning of the day; but to another the word of knowledge by the same Spirit, as if the lesser light; to another faith; to another the gift of healing; to another the working of miracles; to another prophecy; to another the discerning of spirits; to another various kinds of tongues. And all these as stars. For all these works the one and self-same Spirit, dividing to every man his own as He wills; 1 Corinthians 12:8-11 and making stars appear manifestly, to profit withal. 1 Corinthians 12:7 But the word of knowledge, wherein are contained all sacraments, which are varied in their periods like the moon, and the other conceptions of gifts, which are successively reckoned up as stars, inasmuch as they come short of that splendour of wisdom in which the fore-mentioned day rejoices, are only for the beginning of the night. For they are necessary to such as he Your most prudent servant could not speak unto as unto spiritual, but as unto carnal 1 Corinthians 3:1 — even he who speaks wisdom among those that are perfect. 1 Corinthians 2:6 But the natural man, as a babe in Christ — and a drinker of milk — until he be strengthened for solid meat, and his eye be enabled to look upon the Sun, let him not dwell in his own deserted night, but let him be contented with the light of the moon and the stars. Thou reasonest these things with us, our All-wise God, in Your Book, Your firmament, that we may discern all things in an admirable contemplation, although as yet in signs, and in times, and in days, and in years.

But first, Wash you, make you clean; put away iniquity from your souls, and from before my eyes, so that the dry land may appear. Learn to do well; judge the fatherless; plead for the widow, so that the earth may bring forth the green herb for food, and the tree bearing fruit; and come let us reason together, says the Lord, so that there may be lights in the firmament of heaven, and that they may shine upon the earth. That rich man asked the good Master what he should do to attain eternal life. Let the good Master, whom he thought was just a man and nothing more, tell him (but He is good because He is God)—let Him tell him that if he wants to enter into life he must keep the commandments; let him remove from himself the bitterness of malice and wickedness; let him not kill, nor commit adultery, nor steal, nor bear false witness; so that the dry land may appear and bring forth the honoring of father and mother, and the love of our neighbor. All these, he says, I have kept. Why then are there so many thorns, if the earth is fruitful? Go, root up the overgrown thicket of greed; sell what you have, and be filled with fruit by giving to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and follow the Lord if you want to be perfect, joined with those among whom He speaks wisdom, who knows what to give to the day and to the night, so that you also may know it, so that for you also there may be lights in the firmament of heaven, which will not be unless your heart is there; which likewise also will not be unless your treasure is there, as you have heard from the good Master. But the barren earth was grieved, and the thorns choked the word.

24. But first, Wash you, make you clean; put away iniquity from your souls, and from before my eyes, that the dry land may appear. Learn to do well; judge the fatherless; plead for the widow, that the earth may bring forth the green herb for meat, and the tree bearing fruit; and come let us reason together, says the Lord, Isaiah 1:l8 that there may be lights in the firmament of heaven, and that they may shine upon the earth. Genesis 1:15 That rich man asked of the good Master what he should do to attain eternal life. Matthew 19:16 Let the good Master, whom he thought a man, and nothing more, tell him (but He is good because He is God) — let Him tell him, that if he would enter into life he must keep the commandments; let him banish from himself the bitterness of malice and wickedness; 1 Corinthians 5:8 let him not kill, nor commit adultery, nor steal, nor bear false witness; that the dry land may appear, and bud forth the honouring of father and mother, and the love of our neighbour. Matthew 19:16-19 All these, says he, have I kept. Whence, then, are there so many thorns, if the earth be fruitful? Go, root up the woody thicket of avarice; sell that you have, and be filled with fruit by giving to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and follow the Lord if you will be perfect, coupled with those among whom He speaks wisdom, Who knows what to distribute to the day and to the night, that you also may know it, that for you also there may be lights in the firmament of heaven, which will not be unless your heart be there; Matthew 6:21 which likewise also will not be unless your treasure be there, as you have heard from the good Master. But the barren earth was grieved, Matthew 19:22 and the thorns choked the word. Matthew 13:7, 22

You are the chosen generation, you weak things of the world who have left everything behind to follow the Lord—go after Him and put to shame the things that are mighty. Go after Him with your beautiful feet and shine in the firmament, so that the heavens may declare His glory, making a distinction between the light of the mature (though not as brilliant as the angels) and the darkness of the spiritually small (though they are not to be despised). Shine over all the earth. Let the day, lit by the sun, speak to the next day the word of wisdom, and let the night, shining by the moon, announce to the next night the word of knowledge. The moon and stars shine for the night, and the night does not obscure them but is illuminated by them to the degree it can receive. For see, God is saying, as it were, "Let there be lights in the firmament of heaven." Suddenly there came a sound from heaven like the rushing of a mighty wind, and there appeared divided tongues as of fire that rested on each of them. And so lights were made in the firmament of heaven, carrying the word of life. Run everywhere, you holy fires, you beautiful fires, for you are the light of the world and must not be hidden under a bushel. The one you cling to is exalted and has exalted you. Run everywhere and make yourselves known to all nations.

25. But you, chosen generation, 1 Peter 2:9 you weak things of the world, who have forsaken all things that you might follow the Lord, go after Him, and confound the things which are mighty; 1 Corinthians 1:27 go after Him, you beautiful feet, Isaiah 52:7 and shine in the firmament, Daniel 12:3 that the heavens may declare His glory, dividing between the light of the perfect, though not as of the angels, and the darkness of the little, though not despised ones. Shine over all the earth, and let the day, lightened by the sun, utter unto day the word of wisdom; and let night, shining by the moon, announce unto night the word of knowledge. The moon and the stars shine for the night, but the night obscures them not, since they illumine it in its degree. For behold God (as it were) saying, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven. There came suddenly a sound from heaven, as it had been the rushing of a mighty wind, and there appeared cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. Acts 2:3 And there were made lights in the firmament of heaven, having the word of life. 1 John 1:1 Run to and fro everywhere, you holy fires, you beautiful fires; for you are the light of the world, nor are you put under a bushel. Matthew 5:14 He to whom you cleave is exalted, and has exalted you. Run to and fro, and be known unto all nations.

Let the sea also conceive and bring forth your works, and let the waters bring forth the moving creatures that have life. For you, who separate the precious from the worthless, have been made the mouth of God, through which He says, "Let the waters bring forth"—not the living creature which the earth brings forth, but the moving creature having life, and the birds that fly above the earth. For Your sacraments, O God, through the ministry of Your holy ones, have made their way through the waves of the world's temptations to instruct the Gentiles in Your Name, in Your Baptism. And among these things, many great works of wonder have been performed, like great whales. And the voices of Your messengers fly above the earth, near to the firmament of Your Book, which is set over them as an authority under which they were to fly wherever they went. For there is no speech or language where their voice is not heard, since their sound has gone through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world, because You, O Lord, have multiplied these things by blessing.

26. Let the sea also conceive and bring forth your works, and let the waters bring forth the moving creatures that have life. Genesis 1:20 For you, who take forth the precious from the vile, Jeremiah 15:19 have been made the mouth of God, through which He says, Let the waters bring forth, not the living creature which the earth brings forth, but the moving creature having life, and the fowls that fly above the earth. For Your sacraments, O God, by the ministry of Your holy ones, have made their way amid the billows of the temptations of the world, to instruct the Gentiles in Your Name, in Your Baptism. And among these things, many great works of wonder have been wrought, like as great whales; and the voices of Your messengers flying above the earth, near to the firmament of Your Book; that being set over them as an authority, under which they were to fly wherever they were to go. For there is no speech, nor language, where their voice is not heard; seeing their sound has gone through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world, because Thou, O Lord, hast multiplied these things by blessing. Genesis 1:4

Am I lying, or am I mixing things together and confusing them instead of distinguishing between the clear knowledge of those things that are in the firmament of heaven and the bodily works in the moving sea and under the firmament of heaven? For those things whose knowledge is solid and defined, without increase through generation, are like lights of wisdom and knowledge. Yet the material operations of these same things are many and varied, and one thing growing from another is multiplied by your blessing, O God, who have refreshed the weariness of mortal senses. In this way, one thing in the knowledge of our mind may be set out and expressed in many ways through the motions of the body. The waters have brought forth these sacraments, but in your Word. The needs of the people estranged from the eternity of your truth have produced them, but in your Gospel, because the waters themselves have cast them forth—the bitter weakness of the waters being the cause of these things being sent forth in your Word.

27. Whether do I lie, or do I mingle and confound, and not distinguish between the clear knowledge of these things that are in the firmament of heaven, and the corporeal works in the undulating sea and under the firmament of heaven? For of those things whereof the knowledge is solid and defined, without increase by generation, as it were lights of wisdom and knowledge, yet of these self-same things the material operations are many and varied; and one thing in growing from another is multiplied by Your blessing, O God, who hast refreshed the fastidiousness of mortal senses; so that in the knowledge of our mind, one thing may, through the motions of the body, be in many ways set out and expressed. These sacraments have the waters brought forth; but in Your Word. The wants of the people estranged from the eternity of Your truth have produced them, but in Your Gospel; because the waters themselves have cast them forth, the bitter weakness of which was the cause of these things being sent forth in Your Word.

Now all things are beautiful that You have made, but behold, You are inexpressibly more beautiful, You who have made all things. If Adam had not fallen, the saltiness of the sea would never have flowed from him—the human race so deeply curious, so tumultuously swelling, and so restlessly moving. In that case, there would be no need for Your ministers to work in many waters, performing mysterious deeds and words in a corporeal and sensible manner. For in this way, these creeping and flying creatures now present themselves to my mind, symbolizing how people, being instructed, initiated, and brought under discipline by corporeal sacraments, would make no further progress unless their soul possessed a higher spiritual life, and unless, after the word of admission, it looked forward to perfection.

28. Now all things are fair that You have made, but behold, You are inexpressibly fairer who hast made all things; from whom had not Adam fallen, the saltness of the sea would never have flowed from him — the human race so profoundly curious, and boisterously swelling, and restlessly moving; and thus there would be no need that Your dispensers should work in many waters, in a corporeal and sensible manner, mysterious doings and sayings. For so these creeping and flying creatures now present themselves to my mind, whereby men, instructed, initiated, and subjected by corporeal sacraments, should not further profit, unless their soul had a higher spiritual life, and unless, after the word of admission, it looked forwards to perfection.

And so, through Your Word, it is not the depth of the sea but the earth separated from the bitterness of the waters that brings forth not the creeping and flying creature that has life, but the living soul itself. For now it no longer needs baptism, as the pagans do, and as it itself did when it was covered by the waters—for there is no other entrance into the kingdom of heaven, since You have established that this should be the entrance. Nor does it seek great miraculous works to produce faith, for it is not such that unless it sees signs and wonders it will not believe, now that the faithful earth is separated from the waters of the sea made bitter by unbelief. And tongues are for a sign, not to those who believe, but to those who do not believe. Nor does the earth, which You have established above the waters, need that flying kind which the waters brought forth at Your word. Send Your word into it through Your messengers. For we tell of their works, but it is You who work in them, so that through their work they may bring forth a living soul. The earth brings it forth because the earth is the reason they work these things in the soul, just as the sea was the reason they worked upon the moving creatures that have life and the birds that fly under the firmament of heaven, which the earth no longer needs. Yet it feeds on the fish taken out of the deep, upon that table which You have prepared in the presence of those who believe. For this is why He was raised from the deep: to feed the dry land. And the bird, though bred in the sea, is multiplied upon the earth. For in the first preaching of the Evangelists, human unbelief was the main cause, but the faithful are also exhorted and blessed by them in many ways day by day. But the living soul takes its origin from the earth, for it is of no benefit except to those already among the faithful to restrain themselves from love of this world, so that their soul may live for You—a soul that was dead while living in pleasures, in death-bringing pleasures, O Lord, for You are the life-giving delight of the pure heart.

29. And hereby, in Your Word, not the depth of the sea, but the earth parted from the bitterness of the waters, brings forth not the creeping and flying creature that has life, Genesis 1:20 but the living soul itself. Genesis 2:7 For now has it no longer need of baptism, as the heathen have, and as itself had when it was covered with the waters — for no other entrance is there into the kingdom of heaven, John 3:5 since You have appointed that this should be the entrance — nor does it seek great works of miracles by which to cause faith; for it is not such that, unless it shall have seen signs and wonders, it will not believe, John 4:48 when now the faithful earth is separated from the waters of the sea, rendered bitter by infidelity; and tongues are for a sign, not to those that believe, but to those that believe not. 1 Corinthians 14:22 Nor then does the earth, which You have founded above the waters, stand in need of that flying kind which at Your word the waters brought forth. Send Your word forth into it by Your messengers. For we relate their works, but it is Thou who work in them, that in it they may work out a living soul. The earth brings it forth, because the earth is the cause that they work these things in the soul; as the sea has been the cause that they wrought upon the moving creatures that have life, and the fowls that fly under the firmament of heaven, of which the earth has now no need; although it feeds on the fish which was taken out of the deep, upon that table which You have prepared in the presence of those that believe. For therefore He was raised from the deep, that He might feed the dry land; and the fowl, though bred in the sea, is yet multiplied upon the earth. For of the first preachings of the Evangelists, the infidelity of men was the prominent cause; but the faithful also are exhorted, and are manifoldly blessed by them day by day. But the living soul takes its origin from the earth, for it is not profitable, unless to those already among the faithful, to restrain themselves from the love of this world, that so their soul may live unto You, which was dead while living in pleasures, 1 Timothy 5:6 — in death-bearing pleasures, O Lord, for You are the vital delight of the pure heart.

Now, therefore, let Your ministers work upon the earth—not as in the waters of unbelief, by proclaiming and speaking through miracles, sacraments, and mystical words, in which ignorance, the mother of wonder, may focus on them in fear of those hidden signs. For such is the entrance into the faith for the sons of Adam who have forgotten You, while they hide themselves from Your face and become a dark abyss. But let Your ministers work as on dry land, separated from the whirlpools of the great deep, and let them be an example to the faithful by living before them and by stirring them to imitation. For in this way people hear not just to listen, but also to act. Seek the Lord, and your soul shall live, so that the earth may bring forth the living soul. Do not be conformed to this world. Restrain yourselves from it; the soul lives by avoiding those things by which it dies through pursuing them. Restrain yourselves from the unbridled wildness of pride, from the lazy pleasure of luxury, and from what falsely calls itself knowledge, so that wild beasts may be tamed, cattle subdued, and serpents made harmless. For these represent the motions of the mind in allegory—that is to say, the haughtiness of pride, the delight of lust, and the poison of curiosity are the motions of the dead soul. For the soul does not die in such a way that it loses all motion, but it dies by forsaking the fountain of life, and so is taken up by this passing world and conformed to it.

30. Now, therefore, let Your ministers work upon the earth — not as in the waters of infidelity, by announcing and speaking by miracles, and sacraments, and mystic words; in which ignorance, the mother of admiration, may be intent upon them, in fear of those hidden signs. For such is the entrance unto the faith for the sons of Adam forgetful of You, while they hide themselves from Your face, Genesis 3:8 and become a darksome deep. But let Your ministers work even as on the dry land, separated from the whirlpools of the great deep; and let them be an example unto the faithful, by living before them, and by stimulating them to imitation. For thus do men hear not with an intent to hear merely, but to act also. Seek the Lord, and your soul shall live, that the earth may bring forth the living soul. Be not conformed to this world. Romans 12:2 Restrain yourselves from it; the soul lives by avoiding those things which it dies by affecting. Restrain yourselves from the unbridled wildness of pride, from the indolent voluptuousness of luxury, and from the false name of knowledge; so that wild beasts may be tamed, the cattle subdued, and serpents harmless. For these are the motions of the mind in allegory; that is to say, the haughtiness of pride, the delight of lust, and the poison of curiosity are the motions of the dead soul; for the soul dies not so as to lose all motion, because it dies by forsaking the fountain of life, and so is received by this transitory world, and is conformed unto it.

But Your Word, O God, is the fountain of eternal life and does not pass away. Therefore this tendency to depart is restrained by Your word when it says to us, "Be not conformed unto this world," so that the earth may bring forth a living soul in the fountain of life—a soul restrained in Your Word through Your Evangelists, by imitating the followers of Your Christ. For this is "after his kind," because a person is stirred to imitate his friend. "Be," he says, "as I am, for I am as you are." Thus in the living soul there shall be good beasts, in gentleness of action. For You have commanded, saying, "Go on with your business in meekness, and you shall be beloved by all men," and so on; and good cattle, which neither if they eat will they have too much, nor if they do not eat will they lack anything; and good serpents, not destructive to do harm, but wise to take heed, and exploring only so much of this temporal nature as is sufficient that eternity may be clearly seen, being understood by the things that are. For these animals are subject to reason when, being kept in check from a deadly advance, they live and are good.

31. But Your Word, O God, is the fountain of eternal life, and passes not away; therefore this departure is kept in check by Your word when it is said to us, Be not conformed unto this world, Romans 12:2 so that the earth may bring forth a living soul in the fountain of life — a soul restrained in Your Word, by Your Evangelists, by imitating the followers of Your Christ. 1 Corinthians 11:1 For this is after his kind; because a man is stimulated to emulation by his friend. Be, says he, as I am, for I am as you are. Galatians 4:12 Thus in the living soul shall there be good beasts, in gentleness of action. For You have commanded, saying, Go on with your business in meekness, and you shall be beloved by all men; Sirach 3:17 etc and good cattle, which neither if they eat, shall they over-abound, nor if they do not eat, have they any want; 1 Corinthians 8:8 and good serpents, not destructive to do hurt, but wise Matthew 10:16 to take heed; and exploring only so much of this temporal nature as is sufficient that eternity may be clearly seen, being understood by the things that are. Romans 1:20 For these animals are subservient to reason, when, being kept in check from a deadly advance, they live, and are good.

Look, O Lord our God, our Creator: when our desires have been pulled back from loving the world—through which we died by living badly—and we began to be a living soul by living well, Your word that You spoke through Your apostle comes true in us: "Be not conformed to this world." What You immediately added next follows: "But be transformed by the renewing of your mind"—not now according to your kind, as if following your neighbor who went before you, nor as if living by the example of a better man (for You did not say, "Let man be made after his kind," but "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness"), so that we may prove what Your will is. For this reason that dispenser of Yours—who begets children by the gospel—so that he might not always have them as babies, whom he would feed on milk and cherish as a nurse, says, "Be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God." Therefore You do not say, "Let man be made," but "Let us make man." Nor do You say, "after his kind," but "after our image and likeness." Because, being renewed in his mind and seeing and grasping Your truth, man does not need man as his guide to imitate his kind; but by Your direction he proves what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of Yours. And You teach him, now made capable, to perceive the Trinity of the Unity and the Unity of the Trinity. And therefore, though this is said in the plural, "Let us make man," it is then followed in the singular, "and God made man"; and though this is said in the plural, "after our likeness," it is followed in the singular, "after the image of God." Thus man is renewed in the knowledge of God, after the image of Him who created him; and being made spiritual, he judges all things—all things that are to be judged—yet he himself is judged by no man.

32. For behold, O Lord our God, our Creator, when our affections have been restrained from the love of the world, by which we died by living ill, and began to be a living soul by living well; and Your word which Thou spoke by Your apostle is made good in us, Be not conformed to this world; next also follows that which You presently subjoined, saying, But be transformed by the renewing of your mind, Romans 12:2 — not now after your kind, as if following your neighbour who went before you, nor as if living after the example of a better man (for You have not said, Let man be made after his kind, but, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness), Genesis 1:26 that we may prove what Your will is. For to this purpose said that dispenser of Yours — begetting children by the gospel, 1 Corinthians 4:15 — that he might not always have them babes, whom he would feed on milk, and cherish as a nurse; 1 Thessalonians 2:7 be transformed, says He, by the renewing of your mind, that he may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God. Romans 12:2 Therefore You say not, Let man be made, but, Let us make man. Nor sayest Thou, after his kind, but, after our image and likeness. Because, being renewed in his mind, and beholding and apprehending Your truth, man needs not man as his director Jeremiah 31:34 that he may imitate his kind; but by Your direction proves what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of Yours. And Thou teachest him, now made capable, to perceive the Trinity of the Unity, and the Unity of the Trinity. And therefore this being said in the plural, Let us make man, it is yet subjoined in the singular, and God made man; and this being said in the plural, after our likeness, is subjoined in the singular, after the image of God. Genesis 1:27 Thus is man renewed in the knowledge of God, after the image of Him that created him; Colossians 3:10 and being made spiritual, he judges all things — all things that are to be judged, — yet he himself is judged of no man. 1 Corinthians 2:15

The fact that the spiritual person judges all things corresponds to having dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, all cattle and wild beasts, all the earth, and every creeping thing that creeps on the earth. He does this through the discernment of his mind, by which he perceives the things of the Spirit of God. Otherwise, when man is placed in honor but lacks understanding, he is compared to the brute beasts and becomes like them. Therefore, in Your Church, our God, according to Your grace which You have given to it—since we are Your workmanship created in good works—there are not only those who are spiritually placed in authority, but also those who are spiritually subject to those in authority over them. For in this way You have made man, male and female, in Your spiritual grace, where according to the sex of the body there is neither male nor female, because there is neither Jew nor Greek, neither bond nor free. Spiritual persons, therefore, whether those who are in authority or those who obey, judge spiritually. However, they do not judge that spiritual knowledge which shines in the firmament, for they ought not to judge such a sublime authority, nor should they judge Your Book itself, even if something in it is not clear to them. Instead, we submit our understanding to it and hold as certain that even what is hidden from our sight is spoken rightly and truly. For in this way, man, although now spiritual and renewed in the knowledge of God after His image who created him, ought to be a doer of the law, not a judge. Nor does he judge that distinction between spiritual and carnal men who are known to Your eyes, our God, but have not yet made themselves known to us by their works so that we may know them by their fruits. But You, Lord, already know them, and You divided and called them in secret before the firmament was made. Nor does the spiritual man judge the restless people of this world, for what business does he have judging those who are outside, not knowing which of them may afterward come into the sweetness of Your grace and which will continue in the perpetual bitterness of impiety?

33. But that he judges all things answers to his having dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowls of the air, and over all cattle and wild beasts, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth. For this he does by the discernment of his mind, whereby he perceives the things of the Spirit of God; 1 Corinthians 2:14 whereas, otherwise, man being placed in honour, had no understanding, and is compared unto the brute beasts, and has become like them. In Your Church, therefore, O our God, according to Your grace which You have accorded unto it, since we are Your workmanship created in good works, Ephesians 2:10 there are not only those who are spiritually set over, but those also who are spiritually subjected to those placed over them; for in this manner have You made man, male and female, Genesis 1:27 in Your grace spiritual, where, according to the sex of body, there is not male and female, because neither Jew nor Greek, nor bond nor free. Galatians 3:28 Spiritual persons, therefore, whether those that are set over, or those who obey, judge spiritually; not of that spiritual knowledge which shines in the firmament, for they ought not to judge as to an authority so sublime, nor does it behoove them to judge of Your Book itself, although there be something that is not clear therein; because we submit our understanding unto it, and esteem as certain that even that which is shut up from our sight is rightly and truly spoken. For thus man, although now spiritual and renewed in the knowledge of God after His image that created him, ought yet to be the doer of the law, not the judge. James 4:11 Neither does he judge of that distinction of spiritual and carnal men, who are known to Your eyes, O our God, and have not as yet made themselves manifest unto us by works, that by their fruits we may know them; Matthew 8:20 but Thou, O Lord, dost already know them, and You have divided and hast called them in secret, before the firmament was made. Nor does that man, though spiritual, judge the restless people of this world; for what has he to do to judge them that are without, 1 Corinthians 5:12 knowing not which of them may afterwards come into the sweetness of Your grace, and which continue in the perpetual bitterness of impiety?

The human being whom You made in Your own image did not receive authority over the lights of heaven, the hidden heaven itself, the day and night that You called into being before creating the heaven, or the gathering of waters called the sea. Instead, he received authority over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, all livestock, all the earth, and all creeping things that crawl on the earth. For he judges and approves what he finds to be right, but disapproves what he finds to be wrong—whether in the celebration of those sacraments through which those whom Your mercy seeks out in many waters are initiated, or in that Fish itself which, raised from the deep, the devout earth feeds upon, or in the signs and spoken words that are subject to the authority of Your Book. These signs burst forth and sound from the mouth like birds flying beneath the firmament through interpreting, explaining, discussing, debating, blessing, and calling upon You, so that the people may respond, "Amen." All these words are spoken aloud because of the deep darkness of this world and the blindness of the flesh, which prevents thoughts from being seen directly, making it necessary to speak into people's ears. Thus, although flying birds multiply upon the earth, they still have their origin in the waters. The spiritual person also judges by approving what is right and condemning what is wrong in the works and conduct of the faithful—in their charitable giving, as if the earth were bringing forth fruit; in the living soul made alive through gentled emotions, in chastity, in fasting, and in holy thinking; and in those things perceived through the bodily senses. For it is now said that he should judge concerning those things over which he also has the power to correct.

34. Man, therefore, whom You have made after Your own image, received not dominion over the lights of heaven, nor over the hidden heaven itself, nor over the day and the night, which You called before the foundation of the heaven, nor over the gathering together of the waters, which is the sea; but he received dominion over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air, and over all cattle, and over all the earth, and over all creeping things which creep upon the earth. For He judges and approves what He finds right, but disapproves what He finds amiss, whether in the celebration of those sacraments by which are initiated those whom Your mercy searches out in many waters; or in that in which the Fish Itself is exhibited, which, being raised from the deep, the devout earth feeds upon; or in the signs and expressions of words, subject to the authority of Your Book — such signs as burst forth and sound from the mouth, as it were flying under the firmament, by interpreting, expounding, discoursing, disputing, blessing, calling upon You, so that the people may answer, Amen. The vocal pronunciation of all which words is caused by the deep of this world, and the blindness of the flesh, by which thoughts cannot be seen, so that it is necessary to speak aloud in the ears; thus, although flying fowls be multiplied upon the earth, yet they derive their beginning from the waters. The spiritual man judges also by approving what is right and reproving what he finds amiss in the works and morals of the faithful, in their alms, as if in the earth bringing forth fruit; and he judges of the living soul, rendered living by softened affections, in chastity, in fastings, in pious thoughts; and of those things which are perceived through the senses of the body. For it is now said, that he should judge concerning those things in which he has also the power of correction.

But what is this, and what kind of mystery is it? Look, You bless men, O Lord, so that they may be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth. In this, are You not making a sign to us so that we may understand something? Why have You not also blessed the light, which You called day, or the firmament of heaven, or the lights, or the stars, or the earth, or the sea? I might say, O our God, who created us after Your Image—I might say that You wanted to give this gift of blessing especially to man—except that You blessed the fishes and the whales in the same way, so that they should be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters of the sea, and that the birds should be multiplied upon the earth. Likewise, I might say that this blessing belonged properly to such creatures as reproduce from their own kind, if I had found it given to the shrubs, the fruit trees, and the beasts of the earth. But it is not said to the herbs, or trees, or beasts, or serpents, "Be fruitful and multiply," even though all these, just like fishes, birds, and men, do increase and preserve their kind through reproduction.

35. But what is this, and what kind of mystery is it? Behold, Thou blessest men, O Lord, that they may be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth; Genesis 1:28 in this dost Thou not make a sign unto us that we may understand something? Why have You not also blessed the light, which You called day, nor the firmament of heaven, nor the lights, nor the stars, nor the earth, nor the sea? I might say, O our God, that Thou, who hast created us after Your Image — I might say, that You have willed to bestow this gift of blessing especially upon man, had Thou not in like manner blessed the fishes and the whales, that they should be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the waters of the sea, and that the fowls should be multiplied upon the earth. Likewise might I say, that this blessing belonged properly unto such creatures as are propagated from their own kind, if I had found it in the shrubs, and the fruit trees, and beasts of the earth. But now is it not said either unto the herbs, or trees, or beasts, or serpents, Be fruitful and multiply; since all these also, as well as fishes, and fowls, and men, do by propagation increase and preserve their kind.

What should I say then, Truth, my Light—that this was spoken carelessly and without purpose? No, Father of piety, far from it. May a servant of your word never say such a thing. But if I do not understand what you mean by that phrase, let those better than I—that is, those more intelligent than I am—use it better, according to how much you, my God, have given each person to understand. But let my confession also be pleasing in your sight, in which I confess to you that I believe, Lord, you have not spoken this in vain. Nor will I keep silent about what this passage suggests to me. For it is true, and I see nothing to prevent me from understanding the figurative expressions in your books this way. For I know that something can be signified in many ways through bodily expression yet understood in one way by the mind, and that something can be understood in many ways by the mind yet signified in one way through bodily expression. Consider how the single love of God and neighbor is expressed bodily through what manifold sacraments and countless languages, and within each language through how many countless modes of speaking. This is how the young of the waters increase and multiply. Notice again, whoever you are reading this: see how Scripture delivers and the voice pronounces in only one way, "In the beginning God created heaven and earth," yet it is understood in many ways—not through any deception of error, but through various kinds of true meanings. This is how the offspring of men are fruitful and multiply.

36. What, then, shall I say, O Thou Truth, my Light — that it was idly and vainly said? Not so, O Father of piety; far be it from a minister of Your word to say this. But if I understand not what Thou meanest by that phrase, let my betters — that is, those more intelligent than I– use it better, in proportion as Thou, O my God, hast given to each to understand. But let my confession be also pleasing before Your eyes, in which I confess to You that I believe, O Lord, that You have not thus spoken in vain; nor will I be silent as to what this lesson suggests to me. For it is true, nor do I see what should prevent me from thus understanding the figurative sayings of Your books. For I know a thing may be manifoldly signified by bodily expression which is understood in one manner by the mind; and that that may be manifoldly understood in the mind which is in one manner signified by bodily expression. Behold, the single love of God and of our neighbour, by what manifold sacraments and innumerable languages, and in each several language in how innumerable modes of speaking, it is bodily expressed. Thus do the young of the waters increase and multiply. Observe again, whosoever you are who readest; behold what Scripture delivers, and the voice pronounces in one only way, In the beginning God created heaven and earth; is it not manifoldly understood, not by any deceit of error, but by various kinds of true senses? Thus are the offspring of men fruitful and do multiply.

If we think about the natures of things literally rather than allegorically, then the phrase "be fruitful and multiply" applies to all things that are born from seed. But if we treat those words as figurative (which I believe is what Scripture intends, since it doesn't pointlessly give this blessing only to sea creatures and humans), then we find that multiplication belongs to spiritual and physical creatures alike, as in heaven and on earth; to righteous and unrighteous souls, as in light and darkness; to holy authors through whom the law has been given to us, as in the firmament firmly placed between the waters; to communities of people still filled with bitterness, as in the sea; to the longing of holy souls, as in the dry land; to works of mercy in this present life, as in seed-bearing plants and fruit-bearing trees; to spiritual gifts shining forth for building up the church, as in the lights of heaven; and to emotions shaped by self-control, as in the living soul. In all these cases we encounter multitudes, abundance, and increase. But we only discover what can be fruitful and multiply in such a way that one thing may be expressed in many ways and one expression understood in many ways through signs expressed physically and things conceived mentally. We understand physically pronounced signs as the generations of the waters, necessarily caused by physical depth; but we understand mentally conceived things as human generations, because of the fruitfulness of reason. Therefore we believe that to each kind of these You, O Lord, have said "Be fruitful and multiply." For in this blessing I recognize that You have granted us both the power and ability to express in many ways what we understand in only one way, and to understand in many ways what we read as obscurely delivered in only one way. Thus the waters of the sea are filled, moved only by various meanings; thus the earth too is filled with human offspring, whose dryness appears in its desire, and reason rules over it.

37. If, therefore, we conceive of the natures of things, not allegorically, but properly, then does the phrase, be fruitful and multiply, correspond to all things which are begotten of seed. But if we treat those words as taken figuratively (the which I rather suppose the Scripture intended, which does not, verily, superfluously attribute this benediction to the offspring of marine animals and man only), then do we find that multitude belongs also to creatures both spiritual and corporeal, as in heaven and in earth; and to souls both righteous and unrighteous, as in light and darkness; and to holy authors, through whom the law has been furnished unto us, as in the firmament which has been firmly placed between waters and waters; and to the society of people yet endued with bitterness, as in the sea; and to the desire of holy souls, as in the dry land; and to works of mercy pertaining to this present life, as in the seed-bearing herbs and fruit-bearing trees; and to spiritual gifts shining forth for edification, as in the lights of heaven; and to affections formed unto temperance, as in the living soul. In all these cases we meet with multitudes, abundance, and increase; but what shall thus be fruitful and multiply, that one thing may be expressed in many ways, and one expression understood in many ways, we discover not, unless in signs corporeally expressed, and in things mentally conceived. We understand the signs corporeally pronounced as the generations of the waters, necessarily occasioned by carnal depth; but things mentally conceived we understand as human generations, on account of the fruitfulness of reason. And therefore do we believe that to each kind of these it has been said by You, O Lord, Be fruitful and multiply. For in this blessing I acknowledge that power and faculty has been granted unto us, by You, both to express in many ways what we understand but in one, and to understand in many ways what we read as obscurely delivered but in one. Thus are the waters of the sea replenished, which are not moved but by various significations; thus even with the human offspring is the earth also replenished, the dryness whereof appears in its desire, and reason rules over it.

I would also say, O Lord my God, what the following Scripture brings to my mind; yes, I will say it without fear. For I will speak the truth, with You inspiring me as to what You want me to say from these words. I believe that I can speak the truth only through Your inspiration, since You are the Truth, but every person is a liar. Therefore whoever speaks a lie speaks from his own nature; so in order to speak the truth, I will speak from what is Yours. Look, You have given us for food every seed-bearing plant that is on the face of all the earth, and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. And not only to us, but to all the birds of the air, and to the animals of the earth, and to all crawling things; but to the fish and great sea creatures, You have not given these things. Now we were saying that through these fruits of the earth, works of mercy are signified and represented in an allegory, works which are provided for the needs of this life from the fruitful earth. Such an earth was the godly Onesiphorus, to whose household You gave mercy, because he often refreshed Your Paul and was not ashamed of his chain. The brothers also did this, and they bore such fruit, those who from Macedonia supplied what Paul was lacking. But how he grieves for certain trees that did not give him the fruit owed to him, when he says, At my first defense no one stood with me, but all forsook me: I pray God that it may not be counted against them. For these fruits are owed to those who minister spiritual teaching through their understanding of the divine mysteries; and they are owed to them as human beings. They are also owed to them as to the living soul, offering itself as an example in all self-restraint; and owed to them likewise as flying creatures, for their blessings which are multiplied upon the earth, since their sound went out into all lands.

38. I would also say, O Lord my God, what the following Scripture reminds me of; yea, I will say it without fear. For I will speak the truth, Thou inspiring me as to what You will that I should say out of these words. For by none other than Your inspiration do I believe that I can speak the truth, since You are the Truth, but every man a liar. And therefore he that speaks a lie, he speaks of his own; John 8:44 therefore that I may speak the truth, I will speak of Yours. Behold, You have given unto us for food every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed. Genesis 1:29 Nor to us only, but to all the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the earth, and to all creeping things; but unto the fishes, and great whales, You have not given these things. Now we were saying, that by these fruits of the earth works of mercy were signified and figured in an allegory, the which are provided for the necessities of this life out of the fruitful earth. Such an earth was the godly Onesiphorus, unto whose house You gave mercy, because he frequently refreshed Your Paul, and was not ashamed of his chain. 2 Timothy 1:16 This did also the brethren, and such fruit did they bear, who out of Macedonia supplied what was wanting unto him. 2 Corinthians 11:9 But how does he grieve for certain trees, which did not afford him the fruit due unto him, when he says, At my first answer no man stood with me, but all men forsook me: I pray God that it may not be laid to their charge. 2 Timothy 4:16 For these fruits are due to those who minister spiritual doctrine, through their understanding of the divine mysteries; and they are due to them as men. They are due to them, too, as to the living soul, supplying itself as an example in all continency; and due unto them likewise as flying creatures, for their blessings which are multiplied upon the earth, since their sound went out into all lands.

Those who are delighted with these fruits are fed by them, but this does not include those whose god is their belly. For in those who yield these gifts, what matters is not the things given themselves but the spirit in which they give them. Therefore, I clearly see why someone who serves God and not his own belly may rejoice, and I see it and rejoice with him exceedingly. For he has received from the Philippians those things they had sent through Epaphroditus, but I still see why he rejoiced. He feeds on what brings him joy. Speaking truthfully, he says, "I rejoiced in the Lord greatly that now at last your care for me has flourished again, wherein you were also careful, but it had become wearisome to you." These Philippians, through prolonged weariness, had become weakened and, as it were, dried up regarding producing this fruit of good work. He rejoices for them because they flourished again, not for himself because they supplied his needs. Therefore he adds, "Not that I speak in respect of want, for I have learned in whatever state I am to be content with it. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound; everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

39. But they who are delighted with them are fed by those fruits; nor are they delighted with them whose god is their belly. Philippians 3:19 For neither in those that yield them are the things given the fruit, but in what spirit they give them. Therefore he who serves God and not his own belly, Romans 16:18 I plainly see why he may rejoice; I see it, and I rejoice with him exceedingly. For he has received from the Philippians those things which they had sent from Epaphroditus; Philippians 4:18 but yet I see why he rejoiced. For whereat he rejoices, upon that he feeds; for speaking in truth, I rejoiced, says he, in the Lord greatly, that now at the last your care of me has flourished again, wherein you were also careful, but it had become wearisome unto you. These Philippians, then, by protracted wearisomeness, had become enfeebled, and as it were dried up, as to bringing forth this fruit of a good work; and he rejoices for them, because they flourished again, not for himself, because they ministered to his wants. Therefore, adds he, not that I speak in respect of want, for I have learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me.

In all these things, what makes you rejoice, great Paul? What brings you joy? What nourishes you, O man renewed in the knowledge of God, made in the image of Him who created you, you living soul of such great self-control, and you tongue like flying birds, speaking mysteries—for to such creatures this food is given—what is it that nourishes you? Joy. Let us hear what comes next. Nevertheless, he says, you have done well to share in my affliction. This is what makes him rejoice, this is what nourishes him: that they have done well, not that his hardship was eased. This is the man who says to you, You have enlarged me when I was in distress, because he knew how both to abound and to suffer need, in You who strengthen him. For, he says, you Philippians know also that in the beginning of the gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no church communicated with me concerning giving and receiving, except you alone. For even in Thessalonica you sent once and again to my need. He now rejoices at these good works, that they have returned to them, and he is glad that they flourished again, like when a fertile field recovers its greenness.

40. Whereat, then, do you rejoice in all things, O great Paul? Whereat do you rejoice? Whereon do you feed, O man, renewed in the knowledge of God, after the image of Him that created you, you living soul of so great continency, and you tongue like flying fowls, speaking mysteries — for to such creatures is this food due — what is that which feeds you? Joy. Let us hear what follows. Notwithstanding, says he, you have well done that you did communicate with My affliction. Philippians 4:14 Hereat does he rejoice, hereon does he feed; because they have well done, not because his strait was relieved, who says unto you, You have enlarged me when I was in distress; because he knew both to abound and to suffer need, in You Who strengthenest him. For, says he, you Philippians know also that in the beginning of the gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no Church communicated with me as concerning giving and receiving, but you only. For even in Thessalonica you sent once and again unto my necessity. Philippians 4:15-16 Unto these good works he now rejoices that they have returned; and is made glad that they flourished again, as when a fruitful field recovers its greenness.

Was it because of his own needs that Paul said, "You have sent to my need"? Did he rejoice because of that? Certainly not. But how do we know this? Because he himself continues, "Not because I desire a gift, but I desire fruit." From You, O my God, I have learned to distinguish between a gift and fruit. A gift is the thing itself which someone gives when providing these necessities, such as money, food, drink, clothing, shelter, or help. But the fruit is the good and right will of the giver. For the good Master does not merely say, "He that receives a prophet," but adds, "in the name of a prophet." Nor does He merely say, "He that receives a righteous man," but adds, "in the name of a righteous man." Thus, truly, the former shall receive the reward of a prophet, the latter that of a righteous man. Nor does He merely say, "Whosoever shall give to drink to one of these little ones a cup of cold water," but adds, "in the name of a disciple," and so concludes, "Verily I say to you, he shall in no wise lose his reward." The gift is to receive a prophet, to receive a righteous man, to hand a cup of cold water to a disciple. But the fruit is to do this in the name of a prophet, in the name of a righteous man, in the name of a disciple. Elijah was fed with fruit by the widow, who knew that she fed a man of God, and for this reason fed him. But by the raven he was fed with a gift. Nor was the inner man of Elijah fed, but only the outer, which might also have perished from lack of such food.

41. Was it on account of his own necessities that he said, You have sent unto my necessity? Rejoices he for that? Verily not for that. But whence know we this? Because he himself continues, Not because I desire a gift, but I desire fruit. From You, O my God, have I learned to distinguish between a gift and fruit. A gift is the thing itself which he gives who bestows these necessaries, as money, food, drink, clothing, shelter, aid; but the fruit is the good and right will of the giver. For the good Master says not only, He that receives a prophet, but adds, in the name of a prophet. Nor says He only, He that receives a righteous man, but adds, in the name of a righteous man. So, verily, the former shall receive the reward of a prophet, the latter that of a righteous man. Nor says He only, Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water, but adds, in the name of a disciple and so concludes, Verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward. Matthew 10:41-42 The gift is to receive a prophet, to receive a righteous man, to hand a cup of cold water to a disciple; but the fruit is to do this in the name of a prophet, in the name of a righteous man, in the name of a disciple. With fruit was Elijah fed by the widow, who knew that she fed a man of God, and on this account fed him; but by the raven was he fed with a gift. Nor was the inner man of Elijah fed, but the outer only, which might also from want of such food have perished.

Therefore I will speak before You, O Lord, what is true: when ignorant people and unbelievers (for whose conversion and instruction the sacraments of initiation and great works of miracles are necessary, which we believe are signified by the names of fishes and whales) take it upon themselves to provide physical refreshment for Your servants, or to help them in some other way for this present life, even though they do not understand why this should be done or what purpose it serves; and neither group truly feeds the other. For the ignorant ones do not perform these acts with a holy and right intent, nor do the believers rejoice in the gifts from those who do not yet see the fruit. For the mind is fed by that in which it finds joy. And therefore, fishes and whales are not fed on the kind of food that the earth produces only after it has been separated and divided from the bitterness of the sea waters.

42. Therefore will I speak before You, O Lord, what is true, when ignorant men and infidels (for the initiating and gaining of whom the sacraments of initiation and great works of miracles are necessary, which we believe to be signified under the name of fishes and whales) undertake that Your servants should be bodily refreshed, or should be otherwise succoured for this present life, although they may be ignorant wherefore this is to be done, and to what end; neither do the former feed the latter, nor the latter the former; for neither do the one perform these things through a holy and right intent, nor do the other rejoice in the gifts of those who behold not as yet the fruit. For on that is the mind fed wherein it is gladdened. And, therefore, fishes and whales are not fed on such food as the earth brings not forth until it had been separated and divided from the bitterness of the waters of the sea.

And You, O God, saw everything that You had made, and behold it was very good. So we also see the same, and behold all are very good. In each particular kind of Your works, when You had said, "Let them be made," and they were made, You saw that it was good. Seven times I have counted it written that You saw that what You made was good; and this is the eighth time, that You saw all things that You had made, and behold they are not only good, but also very good, as they are now taken together. For individually they were only good, but all taken together they were both good and very good. All beautiful bodies also express this principle: a body that consists of members, all of which are beautiful, is far more beautiful than the individual members are by themselves—members through whose well-ordered union the whole is completed, though these members are also individually beautiful.

43. And You, O God, saw everything that You had made, and behold it was very good. Genesis 1:31 So we also see the same, and behold all are very good. In each particular kind of Your works, when You had said, Let them be made, and they were made, Thou saw that it was good. Seven times have I counted it written that Thou saw that that which You made was good; and this is the eighth, that Thou saw all things that You had made, and behold they are not only good, but also very good, as being now taken together. For individually they were only good, but all taken together they were both good and very good. All beautiful bodies also express this; for a body which consists of members, all of which are beautiful, is by far more beautiful than the several members individually are by whose well-ordered union the whole is completed, though these members also be severally beautiful.

I carefully examined the text to see whether you saw that your works were good seven or eight times, when they pleased you; but in your seeing I found no times by which I might understand that you saw so often what you made. And I said, O Lord, is not your Scripture true, since you are true, and being Truth have set it forth? Why, then, do you say to me that in your seeing there are no times, while this Scripture of yours tells me that each day you saw what you made to be good; and when I counted them I found how often? To these things you reply to me, for you are my God, and with a strong voice you tell your servant in his inner ear, breaking through my deafness, and crying, O man, what my Scripture says, I say; and yet it speaks in time; but time has no reference to my Word, because my Word exists in equal eternity with myself. Thus those things which you see through my Spirit, I see, just as those things which you speak through my Spirit, I speak. And so when you see those things in time, I do not see them in time; as when you speak them in time, I do not speak them not in time.

44. And I looked attentively to find whether seven or eight times Thou saw that Your works were good, when they were pleasing unto You; but in Your seeing I found no times, by which I might understand that you saw so often what You made. And I said, O Lord,! Is not this Your Scripture true, since You are true, and being Truth hast set it forth? Why, then, dost Thou say unto me that in your seeing there are no times, while this Your Scripture tells me that what You made each day, Thou saw to be good; and when I counted them I found how often? Unto these things Thou repliest unto me, for You are my God, and with strong voice tellest unto Your servant in his inner ear, bursting through my deafness, and crying, O man, that which My Scripture says, I say; and yet does that speak in time; but time has no reference to My Word, because My Word exists in equal eternity with Myself. Thus those things which you see through My Spirit, I see, just as those things which you speak through My Spirit, I speak. And so when you see those things in time, I see them not in time; as when you speak them in time, I speak them not in time.

And I heard, O Lord my God, and drank up a drop of sweetness from Your truth, and understood that there are certain people who are displeased with Your works. They say that You made many of them because You were compelled by necessity—such as the structure of the heavens and the movements of the stars. They claim that You did not make them from what was Yours, but that these things were created elsewhere and from other sources. They say You brought them together, joined them, and wove them together when You raised up the walls of the universe from Your conquered enemies, so that they, bound down by this structure, would not be able to rebel against You a second time. But regarding other things, they say You neither made them nor joined them together—such as all flesh, all very tiny creatures, and whatever is rooted in the earth. Instead, they claim that a mind hostile to You and another physis not created by You, and in every way contrary to You, begot and formed these things in the lower regions of the world. Those who speak this way are foolish, since they do not see Your works through Your Spirit, nor do they recognize You in them.

45. And I heard, O Lord my God, and drank up a drop of sweetness from Your truth, and understood that there are certain men to whom Your works are displeasing, who say that many of them You made being compelled by necessity;– such as the fabric of the heavens and the courses of the stars, and that You made them not of what was Yours, but, that they were elsewhere and from other sources created; that You might bring together and compact and interweave, when from Your conquered enemies You raised up the walls of the universe, that they, bound down by this structure, might not be able a second time to rebel against You. But, as to other things, they say You neither made them nor compacted them — such as all flesh and all very minute creatures, and whatsoever holds the earth by its roots; but that a mind hostile unto You and another nature not created by You, and in everywise contrary unto You, did, in these lower places of the world, beget and frame these things. Infatuated are they who speak thus, since they see not Your works through Your Spirit, nor recognise You in them.

When people see these things through Your Spirit, You are the one seeing in them. Therefore, when they see that these things are good, You see that they are good. Whatever things please them for Your sake, You are pleased in them. The things that please us through Your Spirit actually please You in us. "For what man knows the things of a man, save the spirit of a man which is in him? Even so the things of God knows no man, but the Spirit of God. Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is of God, that we might know the things that are freely given to us of God" (1 Corinthians 2:12). This reminds me to ask: If "the things of God knows no man, but the Spirit of God," then how do we also know what things are given to us by God? The answer is this: The things we know by His Spirit—even these "knows no man, but the Spirit of God." Just as it is correctly said to those who speak by the Spirit of God, "It is not you that speak" (Matthew 10:20), it is correctly said to those who know by the Spirit of God, "It is not you that know." In the same way, it is correctly said to those who see by the Spirit of God, "It is not you that see." So whatever they see by the Spirit of God to be good—it is not they but God who sees that it is good. It is one thing for someone to wrongly think that what is good is actually bad, as those previously mentioned do. It is another thing for someone to see that what is good is good—as many people find Your creatures pleasing because they are good, yet You are not pleased in them when they want to enjoy the creatures rather than enjoy You. It is yet another thing when someone sees that a thing is good and God sees in that person that it is good—so that God may truly be loved in what He made. He cannot be loved except through the Holy Spirit He has given, "because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us" (Romans 5:5). Through the Holy Spirit we see that whatever exists to any degree is good, because it comes from Him who does not exist to any degree but simply Is what He Is.

46. But as for those who through Your Spirit see these things, You see in them. When therefore, they see that these things are good, You see that they are good; and whatsoever things for Your sake are pleasing, You are pleased in them; and those things which through Your Spirit are pleasing unto us, are pleasing unto You in us. For what man knows the things of a man, save the spirit of a man which is in him? Even so the things of God knows no man, but the Spirit of God. Now we, says he, have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is of God, that we might know the things that are freely given to us of God. 1 Corinthians 2:12 And I am reminded to say, Truly, 'the things of God knows no man, but the Spirit of God;' how, then, do we also know 'what things are given us by God?'? It is answered unto me, Because the things which we know by His Spirit, even these ' knows no man, but the Spirit of God.' For, as it is rightly said to those who were to speak by the Spirit of God, 'It is not you that speak,' Matthew 10:20 so is it rightly said to them who know by the Spirit of God, 'It is not you that know.' None the less, then, is it rightly said to those that see by the Spirit of God, 'It is not you that see;' so whatever they see by the Spirit of God that it is good, it is not they, but God who 'sees that it is good.' It is one thing, then, for a man to suppose that to be bad which is good, as the fore-named do; another, that what is good a man should see to be good (as Your creatures are pleasing unto many, because they are good, whom, however, Thou pleasest not in them when they wish to enjoy them rather than enjoy You); and another, that when a man sees a thing to be good, God should in him see that it is good — that in truth He may be loved in that which He made, who cannot be loved unless by the Holy Ghost, which He has given. Because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us; Romans 5:5 by whom we see that whatsoever in any degree is, is good. Because it is from Him who Is not in any degree, but He Is that He Is.

Thank you, Lord. We see the heaven and the earth—whether the physical parts, upper and lower, or the spiritual and physical creation. In the beauty of these parts that make up the entire mass of the world or the whole creation, we see light made and separated from darkness. We see the firmament of heaven—whether this means the primary body of the world between the spiritual waters above and the physical waters below, or (since this too is called heaven) the expanse of air through which the birds of heaven fly, between the waters that are carried above as vapor and fall as dew on clear nights, and the waters that flow heavily along the earth. We see the waters gathered together in the plains of the sea, and the dry land both empty and formed so as to be visible and solid, as well as the material of plants and trees. We see the lights shining from above—the sun to serve the day, the moon and stars to light the night, and through all these, time is marked and measured. We see everywhere a watery element teeming with fish, beasts, and birds, because the thickness of the air that supports the flight of birds is increased by the evaporation of the waters. We see the face of the earth furnished with land animals and with man, created in your image and likeness. In that very image and likeness of you—that is, the power of reason and understanding—he was placed over all non-rational creatures. And just as in his soul there is one power that rules by directing and another made subject to obey, so also woman was physically made for man. In the mind of her rational understanding she has the same nature, but in the sex of her body she is likewise subject to the sex of her husband, just as the appetite for action is subject to the mind's reason in order to learn the skill of acting rightly. We see these things, and they are each good, and all together very good.

47. Thanks to You, O Lord. We behold the heaven and the earth, whether the corporeal part, superior and inferior, or the spiritual and corporeal creature; and in the embellishment of these parts, whereof the universal mass of the world or the universal creation consists, we see light made, and divided from the darkness. We see the firmament of heaven, whether the primary body of the world between the spiritual upper waters and the corporeal lower waters, or — because this also is called heaven — this expanse of air, through which wander the fowls of heaven, between the waters which are in vapours borne above them, and which in clear nights drop down in dew, and those which being heavy flow along the earth. We behold the waters gathered together through the plains of the sea; and the dry land both void and formed, so as to be visible and compact, and the matter of herbs and trees. We behold the lights shining from above — the sun to serve the day, the moon and the stars to cheer the night; and that by all these, times should be marked and noted. We behold on every side a humid element, fruitful with fishes, beasts, and birds; because the density of the air, which bears up the flights of birds, is increased by the exhalation of the waters. We behold the face of the earth furnished with terrestrial creatures, and man, created after Your image and likeness, in that very image and likeness of You (that is, the power of reason and understanding) on account of which he was set over all irrational creatures. And as in his soul there is one power which rules by directing, another made subject that it might obey, so also for the man was corporeally made a woman, who, in the mind of her rational understanding should also have a like nature, in the sex, however, of her body should be in like manner subject to the sex of her husband, as the appetite of action is subjected by reason of the mind, to conceive the skill of acting rightly. These things we behold, and they are severally good, and all very good.

Let Your works praise You so that we may love You, and let us love You so that Your works may praise You—works that have a beginning and end in time, rising and setting, growth and decay, form and privation. They therefore have their successions of morning and evening, partly hidden and partly visible, for they were made from nothing by You, not from You, nor from any matter that was not Yours or that existed before. Rather, they were made from concreted matter (that is, matter created by You at the same time), because without any interval of time You formed its formlessness. For since the matter of heaven and earth is one thing, and the form of heaven and earth is another, You made the matter indeed from almost nothing, but the form of the world You formed from formless matter. However, both were made at the same time, so that the form followed the matter with no delay.

48. Let Your works praise You, that we may love You; and let us love You, that Your works may praise You, the which have beginning and end from time — rising and setting, growth and decay, form and privation. They have therefore their successions of morning and evening, partly hidden, partly apparent; for they were made from nothing by You, not of You, nor of any matter not Yours, or which was created before, but of concreted matter (that is, matter at the same time created by You), because without any interval of time You formed its formlessness. For since the matter of heaven and earth is one thing, and the form of heaven and earth another, You have made the matter indeed of almost nothing, but the form of the world You have formed of formless matter; both, however, at the same time, so that the form should follow the matter with no interval of delay.

We have also examined what you willed to be foreshadowed, whether by the creation itself or by the description of things in such an order. And we have seen that individual things are good, and all things together are very good, in your Word, in your Only-Begotten, both heaven and earth, the Head and the body of the Church, in your predestination before all times, without morning and evening. But when you began to carry out in time the things predestined, so that you might reveal things hidden and set right our disorders (for our sins were upon us, and we had sunk into deep darkness away from you, and your good Spirit was borne over us to help us at the right time), you both justified the ungodly and separated them from the wicked. You established the authority of your Book between those above, who would be obedient to you, and those below, who would be subject to them. You gathered the society of unbelievers into one conspiracy, so that the zeal of the faithful might be revealed and they might bring forth works of mercy to you, even distributing earthly riches to the poor in order to obtain heavenly ones. And after this you kindled certain lights in the firmament, your holy ones, possessing the word of life and shining with an eminent authority conferred by spiritual gifts. And then again, for the instruction of the unbelieving Gentiles, you produced from bodily matter the sacraments and visible miracles, and sounds of words according to the firmament of your Book, by which the faithful should be blessed. Next you formed the living soul of the faithful through affections ordered by the strength of continency. And afterwards, you renewed the mind subjected to you alone and needing to imitate no human authority, after your image and likeness, and you subjected its rational action to the excellence of the understanding, as the woman to the man. And for all your ministries necessary for perfecting the faithful in this life, you willed that good things, fruitful in the future time, should be given by these same faithful for their temporal uses. We see all these things, and they are very good, because you see them in us—you who have given us your Spirit, by which we might see them and in them love you.

49. We have also examined what You willed to be shadowed forth, whether by the creation, or the description of things in such an order. And we have seen that things severally are good, and all things very good, Genesis 1:31 in Your Word, in Your Only-Begotten, both heaven and earth, the Head and the body of the Church, in Your predestination before all times, without morning and evening. But when Thou began to execute in time the things predestinated, that You might make manifest things hidden, and adjust our disorders (for our sins were over us, and we had sunk into profound darkness away from you, and Your good Spirit was borne over us to help us in due season), Thou both justified the ungodly, Romans 4:5 and divided them from the wicked; and made firm the authority of Your Book between those above, who would be docile unto You, and those under, who would be subject unto them; and You collected the society of unbelievers into one conspiracy, in order that the zeal of the faithful might appear, and that they might bring forth works of mercy unto You, even distributing unto the poor earthly riches, to obtain heavenly. And after this You kindled certain lights in the firmament, Your holy ones, having the word of life, and shining with an eminent authority preferred by spiritual gifts; and then again, for the instruction of the unbelieving Gentiles, did You out of corporeal matter produce the sacraments and visible miracles, and sounds of words according to the firmament of Your Book, by which the faithful should be blessed. Next You formed the living soul of the faithful, through affections ordered by the vigour of continency; and afterwards, the mind subjected to You alone, and needing to imitate no human authority, You renewed after Your image and likeness; and subjected its rational action to the excellency of the understanding, as the woman to the man; and to all Your ministries, necessary for the perfecting of the faithful in this life, Thou willed that, for their temporal uses, good things, fruitful in the future time, should be given by the same faithful. We behold all these things, and they are very good, because Thou dost see them in us — You who has given unto us Your Spirit, whereby we might see them, and in them love You.

O Lord God, grant us Your peace, for You have provided us with all things—the peace of rest, the peace of the Sabbath, which has no evening. For all this most beautiful order of very good things will pass away once their appointed courses are finished, because in them there was morning and evening.

50. O Lord God, grant Your peace unto us, for You have supplied us with all things — the peace of rest, the peace of the Sabbath, which has no evening. For all this most beautiful order of things, very good (all their courses being finished), is to pass away, for in them there was morning and evening.

But the seventh day has no evening and no setting, because You have sanctified it for everlasting duration so that what You did after Your works, which were very good, resting on the seventh day, although You made them while in unbroken rest, the voice of Your Book may speak to us in advance, so that we also, after our works (which are therefore very good because You have given them to us), may rest in You also in the Sabbath of eternal life.

51. But the seventh day is without any evening, nor has it any setting, because You have sanctified it to an everlasting continuance that that which Thou did after Your works, which were very good, resting on the seventh day, although in unbroken rest You made them that the voice of Your Book may speak beforehand unto us, that we also after our works (therefore very good, because You have given them unto us) may repose in You also in the Sabbath of eternal life.

For even then You will rest in us just as You now work in us, and so that will be Your rest through us, just as these are Your works through us. But You, O Lord, always work and are always at rest. You do not see in time, nor do You move in time, nor do You rest in time; and yet You make the things seen in time, and the times themselves, and the rest that comes from time.

52. For even then shall You so rest in us, as now You work in us; and thus shall that be Your rest through us, as these are Your works through us. But You, O Lord, always work, and are always at rest. Nor do You see in time, nor do You move in time, nor do You in time; and yet You make the scenes of time, and the times themselves, and the rest which results from time.

We see the things You made because they exist, but they exist because You see them. We see from the outside that they are, and from the inside that they are good, but You saw them already made in the place where You saw them yet to be made. We were moved at one time to do good after our hearts had conceived from Your Spirit, but before that, when we abandoned You, we were moved to do evil. But You, the one Good God, have never stopped doing good. We also have certain good works that are Your gift, but they are not eternal. After these works we hope to rest in Your great hallowing. But You, being the Good and needing no good, are always at rest, because You Yourself are Your rest. What person will teach another person to understand this? Or what angel will teach an angel? Or what angel will teach a person? Let it be asked of You, sought in You, knocked for at You—in this way, yes in this way, it will be received, it will be found, it will be opened. Amen.

53. We therefore see those things which You made, because they are; but they are because You see them. And we see without that they are, and within that they are good, but You saw them there, when made, where You saw them to be made. And we were at another time moved to do well, after our hearts had conceived of Your Spirit; but in the former time, forsaking You, we were moved to do evil; but You, the One, the Good God, hast never ceased to do good. And we also have certain good works, of Your gift, but not eternal; after these we hope to rest in Your great hallowing. But You, being the Good, needing no good, art ever at rest, because You Yourself art Your rest. And what man will teach man to understand this? Or what angel, an angel? Or what angel, a man? Let it be asked of You, sought in You, knocked for at You; so, even so shall it be received, so shall it be found, so shall it be opened. Matthew 7:7 Amen.

My heart, O Lord, is deeply moved by the words of Your Holy Scripture and is very occupied with the poverty of my life. For this reason, human understanding is often verbose, because asking questions requires more words than finding answers, because making demands takes longer than receiving what we need, and because the hand that knocks is more active than the hand that receives. We have Your promise; who can invalidate it? If God is for us, who can be against us? Ask, and you will receive; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you: for everyone who asks receives, and whoever seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. These are Your own promises; and who should fear being deceived when the Truth makes the promise?

1. My heart, O Lord, affected by the words of Your Holy Scripture, is much busied in this poverty of my life; and therefore, for the most part, is the want of human intelligence copious in language, because inquiry speaks more than discovery, and because demanding is longer than obtaining, and the hand that knocks is more active than the hand that receives. We hold the promise; who shall break it? If God be for us, who can be against us? Romans 8:31 Ask, and you shall have; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asks receives; and he that seeks finds; and to him that knocks it shall be opened. Matthew 7:7-8 These are Your own promises; and who need fear to be deceived where the Truth promises?

I confess to You in my weakness that You made heaven and earth. You made this heaven that I see and this earth that I walk on, from which comes this earthly body I carry. But where is that heaven of heavens, O Lord, that we hear about in the Psalm: "The heaven of heavens are the Lord's, but the earth He has given to the children of men"? Where is that heaven we cannot see, compared to which everything we can see is earth? This physical universe, though not completely uniform everywhere, has received its beautiful form in these lower regions, with our earth at the bottom. But compared to that heaven of heavens, even the heaven above our earth is merely earth. Yes, both of these vast bodies can rightly be called earth when compared to that heaven—whatever kind of heaven it is—that belongs to the Lord and not to human beings.

2. The weakness of my tongue confesses unto Your Highness, seeing that You made heaven and earth. This heaven which I see, and this earth upon which I tread (from which is this earth that I carry about me), You have made. But where is that heaven of heavens, O Lord, of which we hear in the words of the Psalm, The heaven of heavens are the Lord's, but the earth has He given to the children of men? Where is the heaven, which we behold not, in comparison of which all this, which we behold, is earth? For this corporeal whole, not as a whole everywhere, has thus received its beautiful figure in these lower parts, of which the bottom is our earth; but compared with that heaven of heavens, even the heaven of our earth is but earth; yea, each of these great bodies is not absurdly called earth, as compared with that, I know not what manner of heaven, which is the Lord's, not the sons' of men.

This earth was truly invisible and formless, and there was some kind of profound deep over it, with no light on it because it had no form. That's why you commanded it to be written that darkness was upon the face of the deep. What else could this mean except the absence of light? If light had been there, where would it have been except above everything, rising up high and giving light? So darkness was over it because light from above was absent, just like silence is present where there is no sound. What does it mean for silence to be there, except that sound is not there? Lord, haven't you taught this soul that confesses to you? Lord, haven't you taught me that before you shaped and divided this formless matter, there was nothing—no color, no shape, no body, no spirit? Yet it wasn't complete nothingness; there was a certain formlessness without any definite shape.

3. And truly this earth was invisible and formless, and there was I know not what profundity of the deep upon which there was no light, because it had no form. Therefore You commanded that it should be written, that darkness was upon the face of the deep; what else was it than the absence of light? For had there been light, where should it have been save by being above all, showing itself aloft, and enlightening? Darkness therefore was upon it, because the light above was absent; as silence is there present where sound is not. And what is it to have silence there, but not to have sound there? Have You not, O Lord, taught this soul which confesses unto You? Have You not taught me, O Lord, that before You formed and separate this formless matter, there was nothing, neither color, nor figure, nor body, nor spirit? Yet not altogether nothing; there was a certain formlessness without any shape.

What, then, should we call it, so that it might somehow be explained to those with slower minds, except by using an ordinary word? But what, in all parts of the world, can be found closer to complete formlessness than the earth and the deep? Because they occupy the lowest position, they are less beautiful than the other higher parts, which are all transparent and shining. Why, therefore, should I not consider that the formlessness of matter—which You created without shape, from which You made this orderly world—is appropriately communicated to people by the term "earth invisible and formless"?

4. What, then, should it be called, that even in some ways it might be conveyed to those of duller mind, save by some conventional word? But what, in all parts of the world, can be found nearer to a total formlessness than the earth and the deep? For, from their being of the lowest position, they are less beautiful than are the other higher parts, all transparent and shining. Why, therefore, may I not consider the formlessness of matter — which You had created without shape, whereof to make this shapely world — to be fittingly intimated unto men by the name of earth invisible and formless?

When thought tries to understand this and considers what the senses might grasp, it says to itself: This is not an intelligible form like life or justice, because it is the matter of bodies; nor can it be perceived by the senses, because nothing in the invisible and formless can be seen or felt. While human thought says these things to itself, it may attempt either to know this matter through ignorance, or through knowing it to remain ignorant.

5. So that when herein thought seeks what the sense may arrive at, and says to itself, It is no intelligible form, such as life or justice, because it is the matter of bodies; nor perceptible by the senses, because in the invisible and formless there is nothing which can be seen and felt — while human thought says these things to itself, it may endeavour either to know it by being ignorant, or by knowing it to be ignorant.

Lord, if I were to confess to You through my words and writing everything You have taught me about matter—when I first heard the word and didn't understand it (because those who told me about it couldn't understand it either)—I imagined it as having countless different forms. So I wasn't really conceiving it at all. My mind churned through disturbed and horrible forms, but they were still forms. I called it formless, not because it lacked form, but because it had the kind of form that, if it appeared to me, my mind would turn away from as strange and unsuitable, and which would disturb human weakness. But even what I imagined was formless not through the complete absence of all form, but only in comparison to more beautiful forms. True reason convinced me that I needed to strip away from it every trace of any form whatsoever if I wanted to conceive matter as completely formless, but I couldn't do it. I could more easily imagine that something deprived of all form simply didn't exist at all than conceive of anything between form and nothing—neither formed nor nothing, formless, almost nothing. My mind then stopped questioning my spirit, which was filled with images of formed bodies that it changed and varied at will. I turned my attention to the bodies themselves and looked more deeply into their mutability, by which they cease to be what they were and begin to be what they were not. I suspected this transition from form to form passed through some formless condition, not through absolute nothingness, but I wanted to know, not just guess. If my voice and pen were to confess to You everything You have untangled for me about this question, which of my readers could bear to take it all in? Yet my heart will not stop giving You honor and songs of praise for things it cannot express. For the mutability of mutable things is itself capable of receiving all those forms into which mutable things are changed. And what is this mutability? Is it soul? Is it body? Is it the outer appearance of soul or body? If it were possible to say "Nothing is something" and "That which is, is not," I would say this is what it is. Yet somehow it already existed, since it was able to receive these visible and composite shapes.

6. But were I, O Lord, by my mouth and by my pen to confess unto You the whole, whatever You have taught me concerning that matter, the name of which hearing beforehand, and not understanding (they who could not understand it telling me of it), I conceived it as having innumerable and varied forms. And therefore did I not conceive it; my mind revolved in disturbed order foul and horrible forms, but yet forms; and I called it formless, not that it lacked form, but because it had such as, did it appear, my mind would turn from, as unwonted and incongruous, and at which human weakness would be disturbed. But even that which I did conceive was formless, not by the privation of all form, but in comparison of more beautiful forms; and true reason persuaded me that I ought altogether to remove from it all remnants of any form whatever, if I wished to conceive matter wholly without form; and I could not. For sooner could I imagine that that which should be deprived of all form was not at all, than conceive anything between form and nothing — neither formed, nor nothing, formless, nearly nothing. And my mind hence ceased to question my spirit, filled (as it was) with the images of formed bodies, and changing and varying them according to its will; and I applied myself to the bodies themselves, and looked more deeply into their mutability, by which they cease to be what they had been, and begin to be what they were not; and this same transit from form unto form I have looked upon to be through some formless condition, not through a very nothing; but I desired to know, not to guess. And if my voice and my pen should confess the whole unto You, whatsoever knots You have untied for me concerning this question, who of my readers would endure to take in the whole? Nor yet, therefore, shall my heart cease to give You honour, and a song of praise, for those things which it is not able to express. For the mutability of mutable things is itself capable of all those forms into which mutable things are changed. And this mutability, what is it? Is it soul? Is it body? Is it the outer appearance of soul or body? Could it be said, Nothing were something, and That which is, is not, I would say that this were it; and yet in some manner was it already, since it could receive these visible and compound shapes.

And where and in what way did this happen, unless it came from You, from whom all things come, to the extent that they exist? But the farther something is from You, the more unlike You it is—though this is not a matter of physical distance. Therefore, You, O Lord, who are not one thing in one place and something different in another, but the Self-same, and the Self-same, and the Self-same, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, did in the beginning, which is from You, in Your Wisdom, which was born of Your Substance, create something, and that out of nothing. For You created heaven and earth, not out of Yourself, because then they would be equal to Your Only-begotten, and through that even equal to You; and it would in no way be right that anything should be equal to You which was not from You. And there was nothing else besides You from which You might create these things, O God, One Trinity and Trine Unity; and therefore, out of nothing You created heaven and earth—a great thing and a small thing, because You are Almighty and Good, to make all things good, even the great heaven and the small earth. You existed, and there was nothing else from which You created heaven and earth; two such things, one near to You, the other near to nothing—one to which You alone should be superior, the other to which nothing should be inferior.

7. And whence and in what manner was this, unless from You, from whom are all things, in so far as they are? But by how much the farther from You, so much the more unlike unto You; for it is not distance of place. You, therefore, O Lord, who art not one thing in one place, and otherwise in another, but the Self-same, and the Self-same, and the Self-same, Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, did in the beginning, which is of You, in Your Wisdom, which was born of Your Substance, create something, and that out of nothing. For Thou created heaven and earth, not out of Yourself, for then they would be equal to Your Only-begotten, and thereby even to You; and in no wise would it be right that anything should be equal to You which was not of You. And anything else except You there was not whence You might create these things, O God, One Trinity, and Trine Unity; and, therefore, out of nothing You created heaven and earth — a great thing and a small, because You are Almighty and Good, to make all things good, even the great heaven and the small earth. You were, and there was nought else from which Thou created heaven and earth; two such things, one near unto You, the other near to nothing, — one to which You should be superior, the other to which nothing should be inferior.

But that heaven of heavens was for You, O Lord; but the earth, which You have given to the sons of men to be seen and touched, was not such as we now see and touch. For it was invisible and without form, and there was a deep over which there was no light; or, darkness was over the deep, that is, more than in the deep. For this deep of waters, now visible, has even in its depths a light suitable to its nature, perceptible in some way to fish and creeping things at the bottom of it. But the entire deep was almost nothing, since up to that point it was altogether formless; yet there was then that which could be formed. For You, O Lord, have made the world out of formless matter, which matter, out of nothing, You made almost nothing, out of which to make those great things which we, sons of men, wonder at. For very wonderful is this corporeal heaven, the firmament between water and water, which on the second day after the creation of light You said, Let it be made, and it was made. This firmament You called heaven, that is, the heaven of this earth and sea, which You made on the third day by giving a visible shape to the formless matter which You made before all days. For even already You had made a heaven before all days, but that was the heaven of this heaven; because in the beginning You had made heaven and earth. But the earth itself which You had made was formless matter, because it was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep. Out of this invisible and formless earth, out of this formlessness, out of this almost nothing, You made all these things of which this changeable world consists, and yet does not consist; the very changeableness of which appears in this, that times can be observed and numbered in it. Because times are made by the changes of things, while the shapes, whose matter is the invisible earth mentioned above, are varied and turned.

8. But that heaven of heavens was for You, O Lord; but the earth, which You have given to the sons of men, to be seen and touched, was not such as now we see and touch. For it was invisible and without form, Genesis 1:2 and there was a deep over which there was not light; or, darkness was over the deep, that is, more than in the deep. For this deep of waters, now visible, has, even in its depths, a light suitable to its nature, perceptible in some manner unto fishes and creeping things in the bottom of it. But the entire deep was almost nothing, since hitherto it was altogether formless; yet there was then that which could be formed. For Thou, O Lord, hast made the world of a formless matter, which matter, out of nothing, You have made almost nothing, out of which to make those great things which we, sons of men, wonder at. For very wonderful is this corporeal heaven, of which firmament, between water and water, the second day after the creation of light, Thou said, Let it be made, and it was made. Genesis 1:6-8 Which firmament You called heaven, that is, the heaven of this earth and sea, which You made on the third day, by giving a visible shape to the formless matter which You made before all days. For even already had Thou made a heaven before all days, but that was the heaven of this heaven; because in the beginning You had made heaven and earth. But the earth itself which You had made was formless matter, because it was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep. Of which invisible and formless earth, of which formlessness, of which almost nothing, You might make all these things of which this changeable world consists, and yet consists not; whose very changeableness appears in this, that times can be observed and numbered in it. Because times are made by the changes of things, while the shapes, whose matter is the invisible earth aforesaid, are varied and turned.

And so the Spirit, who is the Teacher of Your servant, remains silent about times and days when recording that You created heaven and earth in the Beginning. For certainly that heaven of heavens, which You created in the Beginning, is an intellectual creature which, though not co-eternal with You, the Trinity, nevertheless participates in Your eternity. Because of the sweetness of that most blessed contemplation of You, it greatly restrains its own mutability and, without any lapse since the moment it was created, clings to You and transcends all the revolving changes of time. But this formlessness—this earth invisible and without form—is not itself counted among the days. For where there is no shape or order, nothing comes or goes; and where this does not occur, there are certainly no days, nor any succession of periods of time.

9. And therefore the Spirit, the Teacher of Your servant when He relates that Thou did in the Beginning create heaven and earth, is silent as to times, silent as to days. For, doubtless, that heaven of heavens, which Thou in the Beginning created, is some intellectual creature, which, although in no wise co-eternal unto You, the Trinity, is yet a partaker of Your eternity, and by reason of the sweetness of that most happy contemplation of Yourself, does greatly restrain its own mutability, and without any failure, from the time in which it was created, in clinging unto You, surpasses all the rolling change of times. But this shapelessness — this earth invisible and without form — has not itself been numbered among the days. For where there is no shape nor order, nothing either comes or goes; and where this is not, there certainly are no days, nor any vicissitude of spaces of times.

Oh, let Truth, the light of my heart, speak to me, not my own darkness! I have fallen to that darkness and am in shadow. But even from there, I loved You. I wandered away, yet I remembered You. I heard Your voice behind me calling me to return, though I could barely hear it through the noise of the restless ones. And now, look, I am returning burning with desire and longing for Your fountain. Let no one keep me from it; I will drink from it and so live. Don't let me be my own life; living by myself I have lived badly—I was death to myself. In You I come back to life. Speak to me; teach me. I have believed in Your books, and their words are very profound.

10. Oh, let Truth, the light of my heart, not my own darkness, speak unto me! I have descended to that, and am darkened. But thence, even thence, did I love You. I went astray, and remembered You. I heard Your voice behind me bidding me return, and scarcely did I hear it for the tumults of the unquiet ones. And now, behold, I return burning and panting after Your fountain. Let no one prohibit me; of this will I drink, and so have life. Let me not be my own life; from myself have I badly lived — death was I unto myself; in You do I revive. Speak unto me; discourse unto me. In Your books have I believed, and their words are very deep.

You have already told me, Lord, with a strong voice in my inner ear, that You are eternal, possessing immortality alone, since You are not changed by any shape or motion, nor is Your will altered by times, because no will that changes is immortal. This is clear to me in Your sight, and I ask that it may become clearer and clearer; and in that revelation let me remain more steadily under Your wings. Likewise, You have said to me, Lord, with a strong voice in my inner ear, that You have made all natures and substances that are not what You Yourself are, and yet they exist; and that only what is not comes not from You, and that the motion of the will away from You who are, toward that which has less being, is guilt and sin; and that no one's sin either harms You or disrupts the order of Your governance, whether at the first or at the last. This is clear to me in Your sight, and I ask that it may become clearer and clearer; and in that revelation let me remain more steadily under Your wings.

11. Already have You told me, O Lord, with a strong voice, in my inner ear, that You are eternal, having alone immortality. 1 Timothy 6:16 Since You are not changed by any shape or motion, nor is Your will altered by times, because no will which changes is immortal. This in Your sight is clear to me, and let it become more and more clear, I beseech You; and in that manifestation let me abide more soberly under Your wings. Likewise have You said to me, O Lord, with a strong voice, in my inner ear, that You have made all natures and substances, which are not what You Yourself art, and yet they are; and that only is not from You which is not, and the motion of the will from You who art, to that which in a less degree is, because such motion is guilt and sin; and that no one's sin does either hurt You, or disturb the order of Your rule, either first or last. This, in Your sight, is clear to me and let it become more and more clear, I beseech You; and in that manifestation let me abide more soberly under Your wings.

You have also told me, with a strong voice in my inner ear, that the creature whose happiness depends on You alone is not co-eternal with You. This creature draws its sustenance from You with unwavering purity and never puts forth its own changeability in any place or time. Because You are always present with it, and it holds to You with its whole affection, having no future to look forward to and not transferring into the past what it remembers, it is not altered by any change nor stretched out through different times. How blessed it is—if such a being exists—to cling to Your Blessedness; blessed in You, its eternal Inhabitant and Enlightener! I cannot find a better name for the heaven of heavens, which belongs to the Lord, than Your house, which contemplates Your joy without any turning aside to something else; a pure mind, most peacefully unified, through that stability of peace belonging to the holy spirits, the citizens of Your city in the heavenly places, above these visible heavens.

12. Likewise have You said to me, with a strong voice, in my inner ear, that that creature, whose will You alone are, is not co-eternal unto You, and which, with a most persevering purity drawing its support from You, does, in place and at no time, put forth its own mutability; and Yourself being ever present with it, unto whom with its entire affection it holds itself, having no future to expect nor conveying into the past what it remembers, is varied by no change, nor extended into any times. O blessed one — if any such there be — in clinging unto Your Blessedness; blessed in You, its everlasting Inhabitant and its Enlightener! Nor do I find what the heaven of heavens, which is the Lord's, can be better called than Your house, which contemplates Your delight without any defection of going forth to another; a pure mind, most peacefully one, by that stability of peace of holy spirits, the citizens of Your city in the heavenly places, above these heavenly places which are seen.

Therefore the soul that has wandered far away may understand, if now she thirsts for You, if now her tears have become her bread while daily it is said to her "Where is your God?"—if she now seeks one thing from You and desires to dwell in Your house all the days of her life. And what is her life except You? And what are Your days except Your eternity, like Your years that do not fail, because You are always the same? From this, then, the soul that is able can understand how far beyond all times You are eternal. For Your house, which has not wandered away from You, though it is not co-eternal with You, nevertheless by continually and unfailingly clinging to You suffers no changes brought by time. This is clear to me in Your sight, and may it become more and more clear to me, I ask You. And in this revelation may I remain more steadily under Your wings.

13. Whence the soul, whose wandering has been made far away, may understand, if now she thirsts for You, if now her tears have become bread to her, while it is daily said to her Where is your God? if she now seeks of You one thing, and desires that she may dwell in Your house all the days of her life. And what is her life but You? And what are Your days but Your eternity, as Your years which fail not, because You are the same? Hence, therefore, can the soul, which is able, understand how far beyond all times You are eternal; when Your house, which has not wandered from You, although it be not co-eternal with You, yet by continually and unfailingly clinging unto You, suffers no vicissitude of times. This in Your sight is clear unto me, and may it become more and more clear unto me, I beseech You; and in this manifestation may I abide more soberly under Your wings.

Behold, I do not know what kind of shapelessness exists in those changes of these last and lowest creatures. And who will tell me, unless it is someone who wanders through the emptiness of his own heart and is confused by his own imaginings? Who, unless such a person, would tell me that (once all form is reduced and consumed), if only the formlessness remains through which the thing was changed and turned from one form into another, that formlessness itself can display the changes of times? For surely this could not be, because without the change of movements there are no times, and there is no change where there is no form.

14. Behold, I know not what shapelessness there is in those changes of these last and lowest creatures. And who shall tell me, unless it be some one who, through the emptiness of his own heart, wanders and is staggered by his own fancies? Who, unless such a one, would tell me that (all figure being diminished and consumed), if the formlessness only remain, through which the thing was changed and was turned from one figure into another, that that can exhibit the changes of times? For surely it could not be, because without the change of motions times are not, and there is no change where there is no figure.

When I consider these things as much as You grant me, O my God, when You stir me to knock, and when You open to me as I knock, I find two things that You have made not within the limits of time, since neither shares Your eternity. One is so formed that, without any interruption in contemplation, without any interval of change, although it is changeable, it remains unchanged and can fully enjoy Your eternity and unchangeableness. The other was so formless that it lacked anything by which it could be changed from one form into another, whether through motion or rest, so that it might be subject to time. But You did not leave it formless, since before all days, in the beginning You created heaven and earth—these two things of which I spoke. But the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep. Through these words its formlessness is conveyed to us, so that minds which cannot fully grasp the absence of all form without reducing it to nothing may be gradually led forward—so that from this another heaven might be created, and another earth visible and well-formed, and water beautifully ordered, and whatever else is recorded to have been created in the formation of this world, not without days. Such things are of a nature that in them the changes of times may occur, because of the appointed changes of motions and forms.

15. Which things considered as much as You give, O my God, as much as Thou excitest me to knock, and as much as You open unto me when I knock, Matthew 7:7 two things I find which You have made, not within the compass of time, since neither is co-eternal with You. One, which is so formed that, without any failing of contemplation, without any interval of change, although changeable, yet not changed, it may fully enjoy Your eternity and unchangeableness; the other, which was so formless, that it had not that by which it could be changed from one form into another, either of motion or of repose, whereby it might be subject unto time. But this You did not leave to be formless, since before all days, in the beginning You created heaven and earth — these two things of which I spoke. But the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep. Genesis 1:2 By which words its shapelessness is conveyed unto us, that by degrees those minds may be drawn on which cannot wholly conceive the privation of all form without coming to nothing — whence another heaven might be created, and another earth visible and well-formed, and water beautifully ordered, and whatever besides is, in the formation of this world, recorded to have been, not without days, created; because such things are so that in them the vicissitudes of times may take place, on account of the appointed changes of motions and of forms.

Meanwhile, I understand this, O my God, when I hear Your Scripture say, "In the beginning God made heaven and earth; but the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep," without stating on what day You created these things. So for now, I understand it this way: it is because of that heaven of heavens—that intellectual heaven where to understand is to know all at once, not in part, not darkly, not through a glass, but as a whole, in clear manifestation, face to face; not this thing now and that thing later, but (as I have said) to know at once without any succession of time; and because of the invisible and formless earth, also without any succession of time (whereas change usually involves having this thing now and that thing later, but where there is no form there can be no distinction between this or that)—it is because of these two things, one with primordial form and the other completely formless, the one being heaven (but the heaven of heavens), the other being earth (but the earth invisible and formless), that I understand Your Scripture to have said, without mentioning days, "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth." For immediately afterward it clarified which earth it was talking about. And when the firmament is recorded as having been created on the second day and called heaven, this indicates to us which heaven He spoke of earlier without mentioning days.

16. Meanwhile I conceive this, O my God, when I hear Your Scripture speak, saying, In the beginning God made heaven and earth; but the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep, and not stating on what day Thou created these things. Thus, meanwhile, do I conceive, that it is on account of that heaven of heavens, that intellectual heaven, where to understand is to know all at once — not in part, not darkly, not through a glass, 1 Corinthians 13:12 but as a whole, in manifestation, face to face; not this thing now, that anon, but (as has been said) to know at once without any change of times; and on account of the invisible and formless earth, without any change of times; which change is wont to have this thing now, that anon, because, where there is no form there can be no distinction between this or that; — it is, then, on account of these two — a primitively formed, and a wholly formless; the one heaven, but the heaven of heavens, the other earth, but the earth invisible and formless — on account of these two do I meanwhile conceive that Your Scripture said without mention of days, In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. For immediately it added of what earth it spoke. And when on the second day the firmament is recorded to have been created, and called heaven, it suggests to us of which heaven He spoke before without mention of days.

The depth of Your oracles is wonderful—their surface lies before us, inviting the little ones, and yet the depth is wonderful, O my God, wonderful is the depth. To look into it inspires awe, an awe of honor and a tremor of love. I hate its enemies with intense hatred. Oh, if only You would slay them with Your two-edged sword, so they would no longer be its enemies! For I love them in this way: that they should be slain to themselves so they may live for You. But look at others who are not critics but praisers of the book of Genesis—"The Spirit of God," they say, "Who wrote these things through His servant Moses, did not intend these words to be understood as you say. He did not want them understood as you claim, but as we claim." To them, O God of us all, with You Yourself as Judge, I answer this way.

17. Wonderful is the depth of Your oracles, whose surface is before us, inviting the little ones; and yet wonderful is the depth, O my God, wonderful is the depth. It is awe to look into it; and awe of honour, and a tremor of love. The enemies thereof I hate vehemently. Oh, if You would slay them with Your two-edged sword, that they be not its enemies! For thus do I love, that they should be slain unto themselves that they may live unto You. But behold others not reprovers, but praisers of the book of Genesis — The Spirit of God, say they, Who by His servant Moses wrote these things, willed not that these words should be thus understood. He willed not that it should be understood as You say, but as we say. Unto whom, O God of us all, Yourself being Judge, do I thus answer.

Will you say that these things are false, which Truth tells me with a strong voice in my inner ear concerning the very eternity of the Creator: that His substance is in no way changed by time, and that His will is not separate from His substance? Therefore, He does not will one thing now and another thing later, but once and forever He wills all things that He wills. He does not will things again and again, or now this and now that, nor does He will later what He did not will before, nor fail to will what He previously willed. For such a will is mutable, and nothing mutable is eternal, but our God is eternal. Likewise He tells me, tells me in my inner ear, that the expectation of future things is turned into sight when they have come, and this same sight is turned into memory when they have passed. Moreover, all thought that is varied in this way is mutable, and nothing mutable is eternal, but our God is eternal. I sum up and put together these things, and I find that my God, the eternal God, has not made any creature by any new will, nor does His knowledge undergo anything transitory.

18. Will you say that these things are false, which, with a strong voice, Truth tells me in my inner ear, concerning the very eternity of the Creator, that His substance is in no wise changed by time, nor that His will is separate from His substance? Wherefore, He wills not one thing now, another anon, but once and for ever He wills all things that He wills; not again and again, nor now this, now that; nor wills afterwards what He wills not before, nor wills not what before He willed. Because such a will is mutable and no mutable thing is eternal; but our God is eternal. Likewise He tells me, tells me in my inner ear, that the expectation of future things is turned to sight when they have come; and this same sight is turned to memory when they have passed. Moreover, all thought which is thus varied is mutable, and nothing mutable is eternal; but our God is eternal. These things I sum up and put together, and I find that my God, the eternal God, has not made any creature by any new will, nor that His knowledge suffers anything transitory.

Will you objectors say that these things are false? No, they reply. What then? Is it false that every nature that has already been formed, or matter capable of being formed, comes only from Him who is supremely good because He is supreme? We do not deny this either, they say. What then? Do you deny that there is a certain exalted creature that clings to the true and truly eternal God with such a pure love that, although it is not co-eternal with Him, it does not separate itself from Him or flow into any variety and change of times, but rests in the truest contemplation of Him alone? For You, O God, show Yourself to him and are sufficient for him who loves You as much as You command, and therefore he does not turn away from You or toward himself. This is the house of God—not earthly, nor made of any heavenly corporeal substance, but spiritual and partaking of Your eternity, because it is without blemish forever. For You have established it forever and ever; You have given it a law which it shall not pass. Yet it is not co-eternal with You, O God, because it is not without beginning, for it was made.

19. What, therefore, will you say, you objectors? Are these things false? No, they say. What is this? Is it false, then, that every nature already formed, or matter formable, is only from Him who is supremely good, because He is supreme?…. Neither do we deny this, say they. What then? Do you deny this, that there is a certain sublime creature, clinging with so chaste a love with the true and truly eternal God, that although it be not co-eternal with Him, yet it separates itself not from Him, nor flows into any variety and vicissitude of times, but rests in the truest contemplation of Him only? Since Thou, O God, showest Yourself unto him, and sufficest him, who loves You as much as You command, and, therefore, he declines not from You, nor toward himself. This is the house of God, not earthly, nor of any celestial bulk corporeal, but a spiritual house and a partaker of Your eternity, because without blemish forever. For You have made it fast for ever and ever; You have given it a law, which it shall not pass. Nor yet is it co-eternal with You, O God, because not without beginning, for it was made.

Although we find no time before it, for wisdom was created before all things (Sirach 1:4) — not that Wisdom who is clearly co-eternal and equal to You, our God, His Father, and by Whom all things were created, and in Whom, as the Beginning, You created heaven and earth; but rather that wisdom which has been created, namely, the intellectual nature which is light in its contemplation of light. For this, although created, is also called wisdom. But the difference between the Light which enlightens and that which is enlightened is as great as the difference between the Wisdom that creates and the wisdom that has been created; just as there is a difference between the Righteousness which justifies and the righteousness which has been made by justification. For we also are called Your righteousness; as one of Your servants says: That we might be made the righteousness of God in Him (2 Corinthians 5:21). Therefore, since a certain created wisdom was created before all things — the rational and intellectual mind of that pure city of Yours, our mother which is above and is free (Galatians 4:26) and eternal in the heavens (2 Corinthians 5:1) (in what heavens, except those that praise You, the heaven of heavens, because this also is the heaven of heavens which is the Lord's) — although we find no time before it, because what has been created before all things also comes before the creation of time, yet the Eternity of the Creator Himself comes before it, from Whom, having been created, it took its beginning, though not of time — for time did not yet exist — but of its own very nature.

20. For although we find no time before it, for wisdom was created before all things, Sirach 1:4 — not certainly that Wisdom manifestly co-eternal and equal unto You, our God, His Father, and by Whom all things were created, and in Whom, as the Beginning, You created heaven and earth; but truly that wisdom which has been created, namely, the intellectual nature, which, in the contemplation of light, is light. For this, although created, is also called wisdom. But as great as is the difference between the Light which enlightens and that which is enlightened, so great is the difference between the Wisdom that creates and that which has been created; as between the Righteousness which justifies, and the righteousness which has been made by justification. For we also are called Your righteousness; for thus says a certain servant of Yours: That we might be made the righteousness of God in Him. 2 Corinthians 5:21 Therefore, since a certain created wisdom was created before all things, the rational and intellectual mind of that chaste city of Yours, our mother which is above, and is free, Galatians 4:26 and eternal in the heavens 2 Corinthians 5:1 (in what heavens, unless in those that praise You, the heaven of heavens, because this also is the heaven of heavens, which is the Lord's) — although we find not time before it, because that which has been created before all things also precedes the creature of time, yet is the Eternity of the Creator Himself before it, from Whom, having been created, it took the beginning, although not of time — for time as yet was not — yet of its own very nature.

Hence, our God, this wisdom comes from You in such a way that it is clearly something different from You, not the same as You. Although we find that time does not exist before it, and does not exist within it either (since it is fitting for it always to behold Your face, and it is never turned away from it, which means it experiences no variation through change), there is still in it that capacity for change by which it could become dark and cold. However, by clinging to You with exalted love, it shines and glows from You like a perpetual noonday. O house full of light and splendor! I have loved your beauty and the place where the glory of my Lord dwells, your builder and owner. Let my wandering soul long for you, and I speak to Him who made you, asking that He may also take possession of me in you, since He has likewise made me. I have gone astray like a lost sheep, yet on the shoulders of my Shepherd, your builder, I hope that I may be brought back to you.

21. Hence comes it so to be of You, our God, as to be manifestly another than You, and not the Self-same. Since, although we find time not only not before it, but not in it (it being proper ever to behold Your face, nor is ever turned aside from it, wherefore it happens that it is varied by no change), yet is there in it that mutability itself whence it would become dark and cold, but that, clinging unto You with sublime love, it shines and glows from You like a perpetual noon. O house, full of light and splendour! I have loved your beauty, and the place of the habitation of the glory of my Lord, your builder and owner. Let my wandering sigh after you; and I speak unto Him that made you, that He may possess me also in you, seeing He has made me likewise. I have gone astray, like a lost sheep; yet upon the shoulders of my Sheperd, Luke 15:5 your builder, I hope that I may be brought back to you.

What do you say to me, you objectors whom I was addressing, who still believe that Moses was the holy servant of God and that his books were the oracles of the Holy Spirit? Is not this house of God, though not co-eternal with God, yet eternal in its own measure in the heavens, where you search in vain for changes of times because you will not find them? For it surpasses all extension and every revolving period of time—this reality to which it is always good to cling fast to God. "It is," they say. What, then, of those things which my heart cried out to my God when it heard within itself the voice of His praise—what part of this do you claim is false? Is it because the matter was formless, and where there was no form, there was no order? But where there was no order, there could not be any change of times. And yet this "almost nothing," inasmuch as it was not altogether nothing, truly was from Him, from Whom comes whatever is, in whatever state anything exists. "This also," they say, "we do not deny."

22. What do you say to me, O you objectors whom I was addressing, and who yet believe that Moses was the holy servant of God, and that his books were the oracles of the Holy Ghost? Is not this house of God, not indeed co-eternal with God, yet, according to its measure, eternal in the heavens, 2 Corinthians 5:l where in vain you seek for changes of times, because you will not find them? For that surpasses all extension, and every revolving space of time, to which it is ever good to cleave fast to God. It is, say they. What, therefore, of those things which my heart cried out unto my God, when within it heard the voice of His praise, what then do you contend is false? Or is it because the matter was formless, wherein, as there was no form, there was no order? But where there was no order there could not be any change of times; and yet this 'almost nothing,' inasmuch as it was not altogether nothing, was verily from Him, from Whom is whatever is, in whatever state anything is. This also, say they, we do not deny.

With those who acknowledge that all these things which Your truth shows to my mind are true, I want to have a conversation before You, O my God. As for those who deny these things, let them bark and drown out their own voices with their noise as much as they want; I will try to persuade them to be quiet and allow Your word to reach them. But if they are unwilling and push me away, I ask, O my God, that You not be silent to me. Speak truly in my heart, for You alone speak in this way, and I will send them away blowing on the dust from outside and stirring it up into their own eyes. I will go into my chamber and sing to You there songs of love—groaning with unutterable groans in my pilgrimage and remembering Jerusalem, with my heart lifted up toward it, Jerusalem my country, Jerusalem my mother, and You, the Ruler over it, the Enlightener, the Father, the Guardian, the Husband, the pure and strong delight, the solid joy, and all good things beyond words, indeed all at the same time, because You are the one supreme and true Good. And I will not be turned away until You gather all that I am from this dispersion and deformity into the peace of that most dear mother, where the first-fruits of my spirit are, from which these things are assured to me, and You shape and confirm it forever, my God, my Mercy. But regarding those who do not say that all these things which are true are false, who honor Your Holy Scripture given through holy Moses, placing it, as we do, at the summit of authority to be followed, and yet who contradict us on some points, I say this: Be, O our God, judge between my confessions and their contradictions.

23. With such as grant that all these things which Your truth indicates to my mind are true, I desire to confer a little before You, O my God. For let those who deny these things bark and drown their own voices with their clamour as much as they please; I will endeavour to persuade them to be quiet, and to suffer Your word to reach them. But should they be unwilling, and should they repel me, I beseech, O my God, that Thou be not silent to me. Do Thou speak truly in my heart, for Thou only so speakest, and I will send them away blowing upon the dust from without, and raising it up into their own eyes; and will myself enter into my chamber, Isaiah 26:20 and sing there unto You songs of love — groaning with groaning unutterable Romans 8:26 in my pilgrimage, and remembering Jerusalem, with heart raised up towards it, Jerusalem my country, Jerusalem my mother, and Yourself, the Ruler over it, the Enlightener, the Father, the Guardian, the Husband, the chaste and strong delight, the solid joy, and all good things ineffable, even all at the same time, because the one supreme and true Good. And I will not be turned away until Thou collect all that I am, from this dispersion and deformity, into the peace of that very dear mother, where are the first-fruits of my spirit, whence these things are assured to me, and Thou conform and confirm it for ever, my God, my Mercy. But with reference to those who say not that all these things which are true and false, who honour Your Holy Scripture set forth by holy Moses, placing it, as with us, on the summit of an authority to be followed, and yet who contradict us in some particulars, I thus speak: Be Thou, O our God, judge between my confessions and their contradictions.

Some people say that although these things may be true, Moses wasn't thinking about those two things when he spoke by divine revelation and said, "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth." They claim that by the name "heaven" he didn't mean the spiritual or intellectual creature that always sees the face of God, and by the name "earth" he didn't mean shapeless matter. What then? These people say that Moses meant what they themselves mean, and that this is what he was declaring through those words. What is that? They say that through the names "heaven and earth," Moses first wanted to express universally and briefly this entire visible world, so that afterward, by listing the days, he could lay out in detail all those things that the Holy Spirit was pleased to reveal in this way. For the people to whom Moses spoke were so uneducated and carnal that he judged it wise to entrust to them only those works of God that were visible. However, these interpreters agree that the invisible and formless earth, along with the dark deep—from which it is later shown that all these visible things known to everyone were made and arranged during those days—can appropriately be understood as this formless matter.

24. For they say, Although these things be true, yet Moses regarded not those two things, when by divine revelation he said, 'In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.' Genesis 1:1 Under the name of heaven he did not indicate that spiritual or intellectual creature which always beholds the face of God; nor under the name of earth, that shapeless matter. What then? That man, say they, meant as we say; this it is that he declared by those words. What is that? By the name of heaven and earth, say they, did he first wish to set forth, universally and briefly, all this visible world, that afterwards by the enumeration of the days he might distribute, as if in detail, all those things which it pleased the Holy Spirit thus to reveal. For such men were that rude and carnal people to which he spoke, that he judged it prudent that only those works of God as were visible should be entrusted to them. They agree, however, that the earth invisible and formless, and the darksome deep (out of which it is subsequently pointed out that all these visible things, which are known to all, were made and set in order during those days), may not unsuitably be understood of this formless matter.

What if someone else says that this same formlessness and confusion of matter was first introduced under the name of heaven and earth, because from it this visible world was created and perfected, with all those natures that clearly appear in it, which we commonly call by the name of heaven and earth? But what if someone else says that the invisible and visible nature is appropriately called heaven and earth, and therefore the universal creation that God made in His wisdom—that is, "in the beginning"—was included under these two words? Yet since all things have been made not from the substance of God but out of nothing (because they are not the same thing that God is, and there is in them all a certain changeability, whether they remain unchanged like the eternal house of God or are changed like the soul and body of man), therefore the common matter of all things invisible and visible—still formless but capable of receiving form—out of which heaven and earth were to be created (that is, the invisible and visible creature already formed), was spoken of by the same names by which the earth invisible and formless and the darkness upon the deep would be called. However, there is this difference: the earth invisible and formless is understood as bodily matter before it had any kind of form, but the darkness upon the deep is understood as spiritual matter before it was restrained at all from its unlimited flowing, and before the enlightening of wisdom.

25. What, now, if another should say That this same formlessness and confusion of matter was first introduced under the name of heaven and earth, because out of it this visible world, with all those natures which most manifestly appear in it, and which is wont to be called by the name of heaven and earth, was created and perfected? But what if another should say, that That invisible and visible nature is not inaptly called heaven and earth; and that consequently the universal creation, which God in His wisdom has made — that is, 'in the begining,'– was comprehended under these two words. Yet, since all things have been made, not of the substance of God, but out of nothing (because they are not that same thing that God is, and there is in them all a certain mutability, whether they remain, as does the eternal house of God, or be changed, as are the soul and body of man), therefore, that the common matter of all things invisible and visible — as yet shapeless, but still capable of form, — out of which was to be created heaven and earth (that is, the invisible and visible creature already formed), was spoken of by the same names by which the earth invisible and formless and the darkness upon the deep would be called; with this difference, however, that the earth invisible and formless is understood as corporeal matter, before it had any manner of form, but the darkness upon the deep as spiritual matter, before it was restrained at all of its unlimited fluidity, and before the enlightening of wisdom.

Someone might also claim that when we read "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth," these words do not refer to already completed and formed natures, both invisible and visible. Instead, they refer to the still formless beginning of things—matter capable of receiving form and being made into something. This matter was called by these names because it contained all these confused things that were not yet distinguished by their qualities and forms. These things, now arranged in their proper orders, are called heaven and earth—the former being the spiritual creation, the latter the bodily creation.

26. Should any man wish, he may still say, That the already perfected and formed natures, invisible and visible, are not signified under the name of heaven and earth when it is read, 'In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth;' but that the yet same formless beginning of things, the matter capable of being formed and made, was called by these names, because contained in it there were these confused things not as yet distinguished by their qualities and forms, the which now being digested in their own orders, are called heaven and earth, the former being the spiritual, the latter the corporeal creature.

Having heard and considered all these things, I am unwilling to argue about words, for that is profitable for nothing except the subverting of the hearers. But the law is good for building up, if a man uses it lawfully; for its purpose is charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of unfeigned faith. And our Master knew well upon which two commandments He hung all the Law and the Prophets. And what does it harm me, O my God, You who are the light of my eyes in secret, while I earnestly confess these things—since many things may be understood by these words, all of which are yet true—what, I say, does it harm me if I think differently about what the writer thought than some other man thinks? Indeed, all of us who read try to trace out and to understand what the writer we are reading wished to convey; and since we believe him to speak truly, we dare not suppose that he has spoken anything which we either know or suppose to be false. Therefore, since each person tries to understand in the Holy Scriptures what the writer understood, what harm is it if a man understands what You, the light of all truth-speaking minds, show him to be true, even though the writer he reads did not understand this, seeing that the writer also understood a Truth, though not this particular Truth?

27. All which things having been heard and considered, I am unwilling to contend about words, for that is profitable to nothing but to the subverting of the hearers. 2 Timothy 2:14 But the law is good to edify, if a man use it lawfully; 1 Timothy 1:8 for the end of it is charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith unfeigned. And well did our Master know, upon which two commandments He hung all the Law and the Prophets. And what does it hinder me, O my God, Thou light of my eyes in secret, while ardently confessing these things — since by these words many things may be understood, all of which are yet true — what, I say, does it hinder me, should I think otherwise of what the writer thought than some other man thinks? Indeed, all of us who read endeavour to trace out and to understand that which he whom we read wished to convey; and as we believe him to speak truly, we dare not suppose that he has spoken anything which we either know or suppose to be false. Since, therefore, each person endeavours to understand in the Holy Scriptures that which the writer understood, what hurt is it if a man understand what Thou, the light of all true-speaking minds, dost show him to be true although he whom he reads understood not this, seeing that he also understood a Truth, not, however, this Truth?

It is true, Lord, that You made heaven and earth. It is also true that the Beginning is Your Wisdom, in which You made all things. It is likewise true that this visible world has its own great parts, the heaven and the earth, which briefly contains all made and created natures. It is also true that everything changeable shows our minds a certain lack of form, from which it receives a form, or is changed and transformed. It is true that what clings so firmly to the unchangeable form that, though it is changeable, it does not change, is not subject to time. It is true that formlessness, which is almost nothing, cannot experience changes of time. It is true that what something is made from can, in a certain way of speaking, be called by the name of the thing that is made from it. Therefore, the formlessness from which heaven and earth were made could be called heaven and earth. It is true that among all things that have form, nothing is closer to the formless than the earth and the deep. It is true that not only every created and formed thing, but also whatever is capable of being created and formed, You have made, for by You are all things. It is true that everything that is formed from what is formless was formless before it was formed.

28. For it is true, O Lord, that You have made heaven and earth; it is also true, that the Beginning is Your Wisdom, in Which You have made all things. It is likewise true, that this visible world has its own great parts, the heaven and the earth, which in a short compass comprehends all made and created natures. It is also true, that everything mutable sets before our minds a certain want of form, whereof it takes a form, or is changed and turned. It is true, that that is subject to no times which so cleaves to the changeless form as that, though it be mutable, it is not changed. It is true, that the formlessness, which is almost nothing, cannot have changes, of times. It is true, that that of which anything is made may by a certain mode of speech be called by the name of that thing which is made of it; whence that formlessness of which heaven and earth were made might it be called heaven and earth. It is true, that of all things having form, nothing is nearer to the formless than the earth and the deep. It is true, that not only every created, and formed thing, but also whatever is capable of creation and of form, You have made, by whom are all things. 1 Corinthians 8:6 It is true, that everything that is formed from that which is formless was formless before it was formed.

From all these truths, which are not doubted by those whose inner eye You have enabled to see such things and who unwaveringly believe that Moses, Your servant, spoke in the spirit of truth—from all these truths, then, one person adopts this interpretation: "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth" means that in His Word, co-eternal with Himself, God made the intelligible and sensible, or the spiritual and corporeal creature. Another person adopts this interpretation: "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth" means that in His Word, co-eternal with Himself, God made the universal mass of this corporeal world, with all those visible and known natures it contains. Another person takes this view: "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth" means that in His Word, co-eternal with Himself, God made the formless matter of the spiritual and corporeal creature. Another person says: "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth" means that in His Word, co-eternal with Himself, God made the formless matter of the corporeal creature, in which heaven and earth still lay confused, which being now distinguished and formed, we today see in the mass of this world. Another person says: "In the beginning God created heaven and earth" means that in the very beginning of creating and working, God made that formless matter confusedly containing heaven and earth, out of which, being formed, they now stand out and are visible, with all the things that are in them.

29. From all these truths, of which they doubt not whose inner eye You have granted to see such things, and who immoveably believe Moses, Your servant, to have spoken in the spirit of truth; from all these, then, he takes one who says, In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth, — that is, In His Word, co-eternal with Himself, God made the intelligible and the sensible, or the spiritual and corporeal creature. He takes another, who says, In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth, — that is, In His Word, co-eternal with Himself, God made the universal mass of this corporeal world, with all those manifest and known natures which it contains. He, another, who says, In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth, that is, In His Word, co-eternal with Himself, God made the formless matter of the spiritual and corporeal creature. He, another, who says, In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth, — that is, In His Word, co-eternal with Himself, God made the formless matter of the corporeal creature, wherein heaven and earth lay as yet confused, which being now distinguished and formed, we, at this day, see in the mass of this world. He, another, who says, In the beginning God created heaven and earth, — that is, In the very beginning of creating and working, God made that formless matter confusedly containing heaven and earth, out of which, being formed, they now stand out, and are manifest, with all the things that are in them.

Regarding how to understand the following words, each person selected one truth for themselves from all these truths. One person says, "But the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep" means that the corporeal thing God made was still the formless matter of corporeal things, without order and without light. Another person takes a different view and says, "But the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep" means that this whole thing called heaven and earth was still formless and dark matter, from which the corporeal heaven and the corporeal earth were to be made, along with all things in them that our corporeal senses can perceive. Another person says, "But the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep" means that this whole thing called heaven and earth was still formless and dark matter, from which the intelligible heaven (which is also called the heaven of heavens) and the earth (namely, the whole corporeal nature, which can also include this corporeal heaven) were to be made—in other words, from which every invisible and visible creature would be created. Another person says, "But the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep"—Scripture did not call that formlessness by the name of heaven and earth, but rather, he says, that formlessness already existed, which Scripture named "the earth invisible and formless" and "the darksome deep," about which it had said earlier that God made the heaven and the earth, namely, the spiritual and corporeal creature. Another person says, "But the earth was invisible and formless, and darkness was upon the deep" means that there already was a formless matter, about which Scripture earlier said that God made heaven and earth, namely, the entire corporeal mass of the world divided into two very large parts, the upper and the lower, with all those familiar and known creatures that are in them.

30. And as concerns the understanding of the following words, out of all those truths he selected one to himself, who says, But the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep, — that is, That corporeal thing, which God made, was as yet the formless matter of corporeal things, without order, without light. He takes another, who says, But the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep, — that is, This whole, which is called heaven and earth, was as yet formless and darksome matter, out of which the corporeal heaven and the corporeal earth were to be made, with all things therein which are known to our corporeal senses. He, another, who says, But the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep, — that is, This whole, which is called heaven and earth, was as yet a formless and darksome matter, out of which were to be made that intelligible heaven, which is otherwise called the heaven of heavens, and the earth, namely, the whole corporeal nature, under which name may also be comprised this corporeal heaven, — that is, from which every invisible and visible creature would be created. He, another, who says, But the carth was invisible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep, — The Scripture called not that formlessness by the name of heaven and earth, but that formlessness itself, says he, already was, which he named the earth invisible and formless and the darksome deep, of which he had said before, that God had made the heaven and the earth, namely, the spiritual and corporeal creature. He, another, who says, But the earth was invisible and formless, and darkness was upon the deep, — that is, There was already a formless matter, whereof the Scripture before said, that God had made heaven and earth, namely, the entire corporeal mass of the world, divided into two very great parts, the superior and the inferior, with all those familiar and known creatures which are in them.

If anyone tries to argue against these last two opinions in this way: If you won't admit that this formlessness of matter is what's being called heaven and earth, then there was something that God had not made, out of which He could make heaven and earth. For Scripture hasn't told us that God made this matter, unless we understand it to be included in the term heaven and earth, or earth alone, when it says, "In the beginning God created heaven and earth." The phrase that follows, "but the earth was invisible and formless," even though the author was pleased to call the formless matter this way, shouldn't lead us to understand anything other than what God made in the text that has already been written: "God made heaven and earth." When the supporters of either of these two opinions that we've listed last hear these things, they will answer and say: We certainly don't deny that this formless matter was created by God, the God from whom all things come, which are very good. Just as we say that what is created and formed is a greater good, so we acknowledge that what is capable of receiving creation and form is a lesser good, but still good. Yet Scripture hasn't declared that God made this formlessness, any more than it has declared many other things—like the Cherubim and Seraphim, and those which the apostle specifically mentions: Thrones, Dominions, Principalities, Powers (Colossians 1:16), all of which God clearly made. Or if all things are included in the phrase "He made heaven and earth," what do we say about the waters over which the Spirit of God moved? If they're understood as included in the word earth, how can formless matter be meant by the term earth when we see the waters so beautiful? Or if it is meant that way, why then is it written that out of this same formlessness the firmament was made and called heaven, yet it's not written that the waters were made? For those waters that we perceive flowing in such a beautiful way don't remain formless and invisible. But if they received that beauty when God said, "Let the water which is under the firmament be gathered together" (Genesis 1:9), so that the gathering itself is the forming, what answer will be given concerning the waters above the firmament? If they were formless, they wouldn't have deserved to receive such an honorable place, nor is it written by what word they were formed. If Genesis is silent about something that God has made, which sound faith and unerring understanding nevertheless don't doubt God made, let no sober teaching dare to say that these waters were co-eternal with God just because we find them mentioned in the book of Genesis, even though we don't find when they were created. Why—with truth instructing us—may we not understand that the formless matter, which Scripture calls the earth invisible and without form, and the darksome deep, was made by God out of nothing, and therefore is not co-eternal with Him, even though that narrative failed to tell when it was made?

31. For, should any one endeavour to contend against these last two opinions, thus — If you will not admit that this formlessness of matter appears to be called by the name of heaven and earth, then there was something which God had not made out of which He could make heaven and earth; for Scripture has not told us that God made this matter, unless we understand it to be implied in the term of heaven and earth, or of earth only, when it is said, 'In the beginning God created heaven and earth,' as that which follows, but the earth was invisible and formless, although it was pleasing to him so to call the formless matter, we may not yet understand any but that which God made in that text which has been already written, 'God made heaven and earth.' The maintainers of either one or the other of these two opinions which we have put last will, when they have heard these things, answer and say, We deny not indeed that this formless matter was created by God, the God of whom are all things, very good; for, as we say that that is a greater good which is created and formed, so we acknowledge that that is a minor good which is capable of creation and form, but yet good. But yet the Scripture has not declared that God made this formlessness, any more than it has declared many other things; as the 'Cherubim,' and 'Seraphim,' and those of which the apostle distinctly speaks, 'Thrones,' 'Dominions,' 'Principalities,' 'Powers,' Colossians 1:16 all of which it is manifest God made. Or if in that which is said, 'He made heaven and earth,' all things are comprehended, what do we say of the waters upon which the Spirit of God moved? For if they are understood as incorporated in the word earth, how then can formless matter be meant in the term earth when we see the waters so beautiful? Or if it be so meant, why then is it written that out of the same formlessness the firmament was made and called heaven, and yet it is not written that the waters were made? For those waters, which we perceive flowing in so beautiful a manner, remain not formless and invisible. But if, then, they received that beauty when God said, Let the water which is under the firmament be gathered together, Genesis 1:9 so that the gathering be the very formation, what will be answered concerning the waters which are above the firmament, because if formless they would not have deserved to receive a seat so honourable, nor is it written by what word they were formed? If, then, Genesis is silent as to anything that God has made, which, however, neither sound faith nor unerring understanding doubts that God has made, let not any sober teaching dare to say that these waters were co-eternal with God because we find them mentioned in the book of Genesis; but when they were created, we find not. Why — truth instructing us — may we not understand that that formless matter, which the Scripture calls the earth invisible and without form, and the darksome deep, have been made by God out of nothing, and therefore that they are not co-eternal with Him, although that narrative has failed to tell when they were made?

Having heard and understood these things according to my limited ability to comprehend—which I confess to You, O Lord, who knows it—I see that two kinds of disagreements can arise when something is communicated through words, even by truthful messengers. One disagreement concerns the truth of the things themselves, and the other concerns the meaning intended by the person who reports them. For we can inquire in one way about what is true concerning the formation of creation, but in another way about what Moses, that excellent servant of Your faith, wanted the reader and hearer to understand by these words. Regarding the first kind of disagreement, let all those who imagine they know as true what is actually false depart from me. And regarding the second kind as well, let all those who imagine Moses spoke things that are false depart from me. But let me be united in You, O Lord, with those who feed on Your truth, and let me delight myself in You with them in the breadth of charity. And let us approach together the words of Your book and search in them for Your will, through the will of Your servant by whose pen You have given them to us.

32. These things, therefore, being heard and perceived according to my weakness of apprehension, which I confess unto You, O Lord, who know it, I see that two sorts of differences may arise when by signs anything is related, even by true reporters — one concerning the truth of the things, the other concerning the meaning of him who reports them. For in one way we inquire, concerning the forming of the creature, what is true; but in another, what Moses, that excellent servant of Your faith, would have wished that the reader and hearer should understand by these words. As for the first kind, let all those depart from me who imagine themselves to know as true what is false. And as for the other also, let all depart from me who imagine Moses to have spoken things that are false. But let me be united in You, O Lord, with them, and in You delight myself with them that feed on Your truth, in the breadth of charity; and let us approach together unto the words of Your book, and in them make search for Your will, through the will of Your servant by whose pen You have dispensed them.

But which of us, among so many truths that come to mind for those examining these words—understood as they are in different ways—can discover that one interpretation so as to say confidently that Moses thought this, and that in his narrative he intended this to be understood, as confidently as he says that this is true, whether he thought this thing or another? For look, O my God, I am Your servant, and in this book I have promised You a sacrifice of confession, and I beg You that by Your mercy I may fulfill my promises to You. Look—can I assert with the same confidence that You in Your unchangeable word created all things, invisible and visible, as I would need to assert that Moses meant nothing else than this when he wrote, "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth"? No. Because it is not as clear to me that this was in his mind when he wrote these things as I see it to be certain in Your truth. For his thoughts might have been focused on the very beginning of creation when he said, "In the beginning," and he might have intended it to be understood that, in this passage, heaven and earth were not yet formed and perfected natures, whether spiritual or corporeal, but each of them was newly begun and still formless. Because I see that whichever of these had been said, it could have been said truly; but which of them he may have thought of in these words, I do not perceive with certainty. However, whether it was one of these or some other meaning not mentioned by me that this great man saw in his mind when he used these words, I have no doubt that he saw it truly and expressed it appropriately.

33. But which of us, amid so many truths which occur to inquirers in these words, understood as they are in different ways, shall so discover that one interpretation as to confidently say that Moses thought this, and that in that narrative he wished this to be understood, as confidently as he says that this is true, whether he thought this thing or the other? For behold, O my God, I Your servant, who in this book have vowed unto You a sacrifice of confession, and beseech You that of Your mercy I may pay my vows unto You, behold, can I, as I confidently assert that Thou in Your immutable word hast created all things, invisible and visible, with equal confidence assert that Moses meant nothing else than this when he wrote, In the beginning God created. the heaven and the earth. No. Because it is not as clear to me that this was in his mind when he wrote these things, as I see it to be certain in Your truth. For his thoughts might be set upon the very beginning of the creation when he said, In the beginning; and he might wish it to be understood that, in this place, the heaven and the earth were no formed and perfected nature, whether spiritual or corporeal, but each of them newly begun, and as yet formless. Because I see, that which-soever of these had been said, it might have been said truly; but which of them he may have thought in these words, I do not so perceive. Although, whether it were one of these, or some other meaning which has not been mentioned by me, that this great man saw in his mind when he used these words, I make no doubt but that he saw it truly, and expressed it suitably.

Let no one bother me now by saying, "Moses didn't think what you say, but what I say." If he were to ask me, "How do you know that Moses thought what you derive from his words?" I should accept it calmly and reply perhaps as I have already done, or more fully if he remains stubborn. But when he says, "Moses didn't mean what you say, but what I say," and yet doesn't deny that what each of us says is true—that both interpretations are true—O my God, life of the poor, in whose heart there is no contradiction, pour down Your comfort into my heart, so that I may patiently endure those who say this to me. They say it not because they are divinely inspired, and not because they have seen into the heart of Your servant Moses what they claim, but because they are proud. They have not truly known Moses' opinion, but love their own—not because it is true, but because it is theirs. Otherwise they would equally love another true opinion, just as I love what they say when they speak the truth. I love it not because it is theirs, but because it is true, and therefore it is no longer exclusively theirs since it is true. But if they love their opinion because it is true, then it is now both theirs and mine, since it is common to all lovers of truth. But because they insist that Moses meant not what I say but what they say, I neither like nor love this claim. Even if it were so, their rashness comes not from knowledge but from audacity; it was brought forth not by vision but by vanity. And therefore, O Lord, Your judgments are to be feared, since Your truth is neither mine, nor his, nor another's, but belongs to all of us, whom You publicly call to share it in common. You warn us terribly not to claim it as specially our own, lest we be deprived of it. For whoever claims as his own what You have appointed for all to enjoy, and desires that what belongs to all should be his alone, is driven away from what is common to all toward what is his own—that is, from truth to falsehood. For he who speaks a lie speaks from his own. John 8:44

34. Let no one now trouble me by saying, Moses thought not as you say, but as I say. For should he ask me, Whence do you know that Moses thought this which you deduce from his words? I ought to take it contentedly, and reply perhaps as I have before, or somewhat more fully should he be obstinate. But when he says, Moses meant not what you say, but what I say, and yet denies not what each of us says, and that both are true, O my God, life of the poor, in whose bosom there is no contradiction, pour down into my heart Your soothings, that I may patiently bear with such as say this to me; not because they are divine, and because they have seen in the heart of Your servant what they say, but because they are proud, and have not known the opinion of Moses, but love their own — not because it is true, but because it is their own. Otherwise they would equally love another true opinion, as I love what they say when they speak what is true; not because it is theirs, but because it is true, and therefore now not theirs because true. But if they therefore love that because it is true, it is now both theirs and mine, since it is common to all the lovers of truth. But because they contend that Moses meant not what I say, but I what they themselves say, this I neither like nor love; because, though it were so, yet that rashness is not of knowledge, but of audacity; and not vision, but vanity brought it forth. And therefore, O Lord, are Your judgments to be dreaded, since Your truth is neither mine, nor his, nor another's, but of all of us, whom Thou publicly callest to have it in common, warning us terribly not to hold it as specially for ourselves, lest we be deprived of it. For whosoever claims to himself as his own that which Thou appointed to all to enjoy, and desires that to be his own which belongs to all, is forced away from what is common to all to that which is his own — that is, from truth to falsehood. For he that speaks a lie, speaks of his own. John 8:44

Listen, O God, You who are the best Judge! Truth itself, listen to what I will say to this person who opposes me; listen, because I say this before You and before my brothers who use Your law lawfully, for the purpose of charity; listen and see what I will say to him, if it pleases You. For I return this brotherly and peaceful response to him: If we both see that what you say is true, and if we both see that what I say is true, where, I ask, do we see it? Certainly I do not see it in you, nor do you see it in me, but we both see it in the unchangeable truth itself, which is above our minds. Therefore, when we need not argue about the very light of the Lord our God, why do we argue about the thoughts of our neighbor, which we cannot see in the way that unchangeable truth is seen—especially when, if Moses himself had appeared to us and said, "This is what I meant," we would not see it that way, but would have to believe it? Let us not, then, be puffed up for one against the other, above what is written; let us love the Lord our God with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind, and our neighbor as ourselves. Regarding these two commandments of charity, unless we believe that Moses meant whatever he did mean in these books, we will make God a liar when we think differently about our fellow servants' minds than He has taught us. Look now, how foolish it is, given such a great abundance of the truest interpretations that can be drawn from these words, to rashly declare which one Moses particularly meant; and with destructive arguments to offend charity itself, for the sake of which he has spoken all the things whose words we are trying to explain!

35. Hearken, O God, Thou best Judge! Truth itself, hearken to what I shall say to this gainsayer; hearken, for before You I say it, and before my brethren who use Your law lawfully, to the end of charity; 1 Timothy 1:8 hearken and behold what I shall say to him, if it be pleasing unto You. For this brotherly and peaceful word do I return unto him: If we both see that that which you say is true, and if we both see that what I say is true, where, I ask, do we see it? Certainly not I in you, nor you in me, but both in the unchangeable truth itself, which is above our minds. When, therefore, we may not contend about the very light of the Lord our God, why do we contend about the thoughts of. our neighbour, which we cannot so see as incommutable truth is seen; when, if Moses himself had appeared to us and said, This I meant, not so should we see it, but believe it? Let us not, then, be puffed up for one against the other, 1 Corinthians 4:6 above that which is written; let us love the Lord our God with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind, and our neighbour as ourself. Mark 12:30-31 As to which two precepts of charity, unless we believe that Moses meant whatever in these books he did mean, we shall make God a liar when we think otherwise concerning our fellow-servants' mind than He has taught us. Behold, now, how foolish it is, in so great an abundance of the truest opinions which can be extracted from these words, rashly to affirm which of them Moses particularly meant; and with pernicious contentions to offend charity itself, on account of which he has spoken all the things whose words we endeavour to explain!

And yet, O my God, You who lift up my humility and give rest to my labor, who hear my confessions and forgive my sins, since You command me to love my neighbor as myself, I cannot believe that You gave to Moses, Your most faithful servant, a lesser gift than I would wish and desire for myself from You, had I been born in his time and had You placed me in that position so that through the service of my heart and tongue those books might be distributed. These books were destined to benefit all nations long afterward and, through the whole world, to rise above the words of all false and arrogant teachings from such a great height of authority. I would have truly wished, had I then been Moses (for we all come from the same lump; and what is man, except that You are mindful of him?), that if I had been at that time what he was, and if You had commanded me to write the book of Genesis, such power of expression and such method of arrangement should be given to me that those who cannot yet understand how God creates would not reject the words as beyond their ability, and those who are already able to understand this would find that whatever true opinion they had reached by thought was not passed over in the few words of Your servant. And should another person by the light of truth have discovered another meaning, neither should that fail to be found in those same words.

36. And yet, O my God, Thou exaltation of my humility, and rest of my labour, who hear my confessions, and forgivest my sins, since You command me that I should love my neighbour as myself, I cannot believe that You gave to Moses, Your most faithful servant, a less gift than I should wish and desire for myself from You, had I been born in his time, and had Thou placed me in that position that through the service of my heart and of my tongue those books might be distributed, which so long after were to profit all nations, and through the whole world, from so great a pinnacle of authority, were to surmount the words of all false and proud teachings. I should have wished truly had I then been Moses (for we all come from the same mass; and what is man, saving that You are mindful of him?). I should then, had I been at that time what he was, and enjoined by You to write the book of Genesis, have wished that such a power of expression and such a method of arrangement should be given me, that they who cannot as yet understand how God creates might not reject the words as surpassing their powers; and they who are already able to do this, would find, in whatever true opinion they had by thought arrived at, that it was not passed over in the few words of Your servant; and should another man by the light of truth have discovered another, neither should that fail to be found in those same words.

For just as a fountain in a confined space is more abundant and supplies more streams over greater areas than any single stream that flows from the same fountain after traveling a long distance, so the narrative of Your spokesman, intended to help many people who would discuss it, flows from a brief measure of language into streams of clear truth. From these streams, each person may draw out whatever truth he can grasp about these matters—one person drawing out one truth, another person drawing out another truth, through more elaborate explanations. For some people, when they read or hear these words, imagine that God, like a human being or some vast entity endowed with immense power, by some new and sudden decision, created heaven and earth outside itself, as if in distant locations—two great bodies, one above and one below, within which all things were to be contained. And when they hear "God said, Let it be made, and it was made," they imagine words that begin and end, sounding in time and passing away, after which the thing commanded to exist came into being, along with whatever else their familiarity with the physical world might suggest. In these people, who are still spiritual infants, while their weakness is carried along as if in a mother's arms by this humble kind of speech, their faith is wholesomely built up, enabling them to hold as certain that God made all the natures which their senses perceive everywhere around them in wonderful variety. But if anyone, despising these words as trivial, stretches himself with proud weakness beyond the cradle that nurtures him, he will, sadly, fall miserably. Have pity, O Lord God, lest those who pass by trample on the unfledged bird. Send Your angel to restore it to its nest so that it may live until it can fly.

37. For as a fountain in a limited space is more plentiful, and affords supply for more streams over larger spaces than any one of those streams which, after a wide interval, is derived from the same fountain; so the narrative of Your dispenser, destined to benefit many who were likely to discourse thereon, does, from a limited measure of language, overflow into streams of clear truth, whence each one may draw out for himself that truth which he can concerning these subjects — this one that truth, that one another, by larger circumlocutions of discourse. For some, when they read or hear these words, think that God as a man or some mass gifted with immense power, by some new and sudden resolve, had, outside itself, as if at distant places, created heaven and earth, two great bodies above and below, wherein all things were to be contained. And when they hear, God said, Let it be made, and it was made, they think of words begun and ended, sounding in times and passing away, after the departure of which that came into being which was commanded to be; and whatever else of the kind their familiarity with the world would suggest. In whom, being as yet little ones, while their weakness by this humble kind of speech is carried on as if in a mother's bosom, their faith is healthfully built up, by which they have and hold as certain that God made all natures, which in wondrous variety their senses perceive on every side. Which words, if any one despising them, as if trivial, with proud weakness shall have stretched himself beyond his fostering cradle, he will, alas, fall miserably. Have pity, O Lord God, lest they who pass by trample on the unfledged bird; and send Your angel, who may restore it to its nest that it may live until it can fly.

But others, for whom these words are no longer a nest but shady fruit-bowers, see the fruits hidden in them, fly around rejoicing, and with cheerful searching pluck them. For when they read or hear these words, O God, they see that all past and future times are surpassed by Your eternal and unchanging existence, and yet there is no temporal creature that You have not made. And by Your will, because Your will is identical with what You are, You have made all things—not through any change of will, nor through a will that did not exist before—not out of Yourself, in Your own likeness, as the form of all things, but out of nothing, as a formless unlikeness that would be given form by Your likeness (turning back to You the One, according to their appointed capacity, as it has been given to each thing in its kind), so that all might be made very good. This is true whether they remain near You, or, being gradually removed in time and place, create or undergo beautiful changes. These things they see, and they rejoice in the light of Your truth, to whatever small degree they can here.

38. But others, to whom these words are no longer a nest, but shady fruit-bowers, see the fruits concealed in them, fly around rejoicing, and chirpingly search and pluck them. For they see when they read or hear these words, O God, that all times past and future are surmounted by Your eternal and stable abiding, and still that there is no temporal creature which You have not made. And by Your will, because it is that which You are, You have made all things, not by any changed will, nor by a will which before was not — not out of Yourself, in Your own likeness, the form of all things, but out of nothing, a formless unlikeness which should be formed by Your likeness (having recourse to You the One, after their settled capacity, according as it has been given to each thing in his kind), and might all be made very good; whether they remain around You, or, being by degrees removed in time and place, make or undergo beautiful variations. These things they see, and rejoice in the light of Your truth, in the little degree they here may.

Again, another person focuses on the words "In the beginning God made the heaven and the earth" and sees Wisdom as the Beginning, because It also speaks to us. Another person likewise focuses on the same words, and by "beginning" understands the start of created things, and takes it this way: "In the beginning He made," as if it said, "He made at first." And among those who understand "In the beginning" to mean that in Your Wisdom You created heaven and earth, one person believes that what is called "heaven and earth" refers to the matter out of which heaven and earth were going to be created. Another believes these are natures already formed and distinct. Another believes one is a formed nature—specifically a spiritual one—under the name of heaven, and the other is formless corporeal matter under the name of earth. But those who understand the name "heaven and earth" to mean matter that is still formless, out of which heaven and earth were going to be formed, do not themselves understand it in one way. One person thinks this matter is what the intelligible and the sensible creature were to be completed from. Another thinks it is only what this sensible corporeal mass was to come from, containing in its vast expanse these visible and prepared natures. Nor do those who believe that the creatures already set in order and arranged are what is called "heaven and earth" in this passage agree with one another. One person means both the invisible and visible creatures, while another means only the visible, in which we admire the bright heaven and dark earth, and the things that are in them.

39. Again, another of these directs his attention to that which is said, In the beginning God made the heaven and the earth, and beholds Wisdom — the Beginning, because It also speaks unto us. John 8:23 Another likewise directs his attention to the same words, and by beginning understands the commencement of things created; and receives it thus — In the beginning He made, as if it were said, He at first made. And among those who understand In the beginning to mean, that in Your Wisdom You have created heaven and earth, one believes the matter out of which the heaven and earth were to be created to be there called heaven and earth; another, that they are natures already formed and distinct; another, one formed nature, and that a spiritual, under the name of heaven, the other formless, of corporeal matter, under the name of earth. But they who under the name of heaven and earth understand matter as yet formless, out of which were to be formed heaven and earth, do not themselves understand it in one manner; but one, that matter out of which the intelligible and the sensible creature were to be completed; another, that only out of which this sensible corporeal mass was to come, holding in its vast bosom these visible and prepared natures. Nor are they who believe that the creatures already set in order and arranged are in this place called heaven and earth of one accord; but the one, both the invisible and visible; the other, the visible only, in which we admire the luminous heaven and darksome earth, and the things that are therein.

But whoever understands "In the beginning He made" to mean "At first He made" can only truly understand heaven and earth as the matter of heaven and earth—that is, the universal creation, both intelligible and corporeal. For if he takes it to mean the universe as already formed, one might rightly ask him: If God made this first, what did He make afterwards? After the universe he will find nothing, so he must unwillingly hear: How is this first if there is nothing afterwards? But when he says that God first made matter formless and then formed it, he is not being absurd, provided he can discern what precedes by eternity, what by time, what by choice, and what by origin. By eternity, God is before all things; by time, the flower is before the fruit; by choice, the fruit is before the flower; by origin, sound is before the tune. Of these four modes, the first and last are very difficult to understand; the two middle ones are quite easy. For it requires an uncommon and lofty vision to behold, O Lord, Your Eternity immutably making mutable things and thereby existing before them. Who has a mind keen enough to discover without great effort how sound is prior to tune, since a tune is formed sound, and something unformed can exist, but what does not exist cannot be formed? Thus matter is prior to what is made from it—not prior because it makes it (since matter is itself made), nor prior by an interval of time. For we do not first utter formless sounds in time without singing and then adapt or fashion them into the form of a song, as wood or silver precedes in time the chest or vessel made from it. In singing, this is not the case. For when a song is sung, its sound is heard simultaneously; there is no formless sound first that is afterwards formed into a song. As soon as it sounds, it passes away; you cannot find any part of it that can be recalled and composed by art. Therefore, the song is absorbed in its own sound, and this sound is its matter. This matter is formed so that it becomes a tune; therefore, as I said, the matter of sound is prior to the form of the tune—not prior through any power to make it a tune (for sound is not the composer of the tune but is sent forth from the body and subjected to the singer's soul, so that from it he may form a tune); nor prior in time, for it is produced together with the tune; nor prior in choice, for sound is not better than a tune, since a tune is not merely sound but beautiful sound. But it is prior in origin, because the tune is not formed in order to become sound, but sound is formed in order to become a tune. By this example, let whoever is able understand that the matter of things was made first and called heaven and earth, because heaven and earth were made from it. Not that it was made first in time, because the forms of things give rise to time, but it was formless. Now, in time, it is perceived together with its form. Yet nothing can be said about that matter except as if it were prior in time, though it is considered last (because formed things are certainly superior to formless things) and is preceded by the Eternity of the Creator, so that there might exist, out of nothing, that from which something might be made.

40. But he who does not otherwise understand, In the beginning He made, than if it were said, At first He made, can only truly understand heaven and earth of the matter of heaven and earth, namely, of the universal, that is, intelligible and corporeal creation. For if he would have it of the universe. as already formed, it might rightly be asked of him: If at first God made this, what made He afterwards? And after the universe he will find nothing; thereupon must he, though unwilling, hear, How is this first, if there is nothing afterwards? But when he says that God made matter first formless, then formed, he is not absurd if he be but able to discern what precedes by eternity, what by time, what by choice, what by origin. By eternity, as God is before all things; by time, as the flower is before the fruit; by choice, as the fruit is before the flower; by origin, as sound is before the tune. Of these four, the first and last which I have referred to are with much difficulty understood; the two middle very easily. For an uncommon and too lofty vision it is to behold, O Lord, Your Eternity, immutably making things mutable, and thereby before them. Who is so acute of mind as to be able without great labour to discover how the sound is prior to the tune, because a tune is a formed sound; and a thing not formed may exist, but that which exists not cannot be formed? So is the matter prior to that which is made from it; not prior because it makes it, since itself is rather made, nor is it prior by an interval of time. For we do not as to time first utter formless sounds without singing, and then adapt or fashion them into the form of a song, just as wood or silver from which a chest or vessel is made. Because such materials do by time also precede the forms of the things which are made from them; but in singing this is not so. For when it is sung, its sound is heard at the same time; seeing there is not first a formless sound, which is afterwards formed into a song. For as soon as it shall have first sounded it passes away; nor can you find anything of it, which being recalled you can by art compose. And, therefore, the song is absorbed in its own sound, which sound of it is its matter. Because this same is formed that it may be a tune; and therefore, as I was saying, the matter of the sound is prior to the form of the tune, not before through any power of making it a tune; for neither is a sound the composer of the tune, but is sent forth from the body and is subjected to the soul of the singer, that from it he may form a tune. Nor is it first in time, for it is given forth together with the tune; nor first in choice, for a sound is not better than a tune, since a tune is not merely a sound, but a beautiful sound. But it is first in origin, because the tune is not formed that it may become a sound, but the sound is formed that it may become a tune. By this example, let him who is able understand that the matter of things was first made, and called heaven and earth, because out of it heaven and earth were made. Not that it was made first in time, because the forms of things give rise to time, but that was formless; but now, in time, it is perceived together with its form. Nor yet can anything be related concerning that matter, unless as if it were prior in time, while it is considered last (because things formed are assuredly superior to things formless), and is preceded by the Eternity of the Creator, so that there might be out of nothing that from which something might be made.

In this diversity of genuine opinions, let Truth itself create unity; and may our God have mercy on us, so that we may use the law lawfully, as 1 Timothy 1:8 says, with the goal of the commandment being pure charity. And if anyone asks me, "Which of these was the meaning of Your servant Moses?" and these were not the words of my confessions, would I not confess to You, I do not know? Yet I do know that those opinions are true, except for those carnal ones about which I have already said what I thought appropriate. However, these words of Your Book do not frighten those humble little ones of good hope, who treat great matters in a simple way, and handle a few things in various ways. But let all of us, whom I recognize as seeing and speaking the truth in these words, love one another, and equally love You, our God, fountain of truth—if we do not thirst for empty things, but for truth itself. Yes, let us honor this servant of Yours, the steward of this Scripture, full of Your Spirit, by believing that when You revealed Yourself to him and he wrote these things, he intended what most excels in them both for the light of truth and for fruitfulness of benefit.

41. In this diversity of true opinions let Truth itself beget concord; and may our God have mercy upon us, that we may use the law lawfully, 1 Timothy 1:8 the end of the commandment, pure charity. And by this if any one asks of me, Which of these was the meaning of Your servant Moses? these were not the utterances of my confessions, should I not confess unto You, I know not; and yet I know that those opinions are true, with the exception of those carnal ones concerning which I have spoken what I thought well. However, these words of Your Book affright not those little ones of good hope, treating few of high things in a humble fashion, and few things in varied ways. But let all, whom I acknowledge to see and speak the truth in these words, love one another, and equally love You, our God, fountain of truth — if we thirst not for vain things, but for it; yea, let us so honour this servant of Yours, the dispenser of this Scripture, full of Your Spirit, as to believe that when You revealed Yourself to him, and he wrote these things, he intended that which in them chiefly excels both for light of truth and fruitfulness of profit.

When one person says, "Moses meant what I think," and another says, "No, he meant what I think," I believe I speak more reverently when I say, "Why not both, if both are true?" And if there is a third truth, or a fourth, and if anyone finds any entirely different truth in those words, why should we not believe that Moses saw all of these? After all, the one God shaped the Holy Scriptures through him to speak to the understanding of many people who would see true but different things in them. I certainly—and I declare this fearlessly from my heart—if I were writing something meant to have the highest authority, I would prefer to write in such a way that whatever truth anyone might grasp about these matters would be reflected in my words, rather than stating one true interpretation so plainly that I would exclude other interpretations, as long as any falsehood in them would not trouble me. Therefore, O my God, I am unwilling to be so stubborn as to refuse to believe that You gave this man Moses such great insight. Surely, when he wrote those words, he perceived and thought whatever truth we have been able to discover, and indeed whatever we have not been able to discover, nor are yet able to discover, though it may still be found in them.

42. Thus, when one shall say, He [ Moses] meant as I do, and another, Nay, but as I do, I suppose that I am speaking more religiously when I say, Why not rather as both, if both be true? And if there be a third truth, or a fourth, and if any one seek any truth altogether different in those words, why may not he be believed to have seen all these, through whom one God has tempered the Holy Scriptures to the senses of many, about to see therein things true but different? I certainly — and I fearlessly declare it from my heart — were I to write anything to have the highest authority, should prefer so to write, that whatever of truth any one might apprehend concerning these matters, my words should re-echo, rather than that I should set down one true opinion so clearly on this as that I should exclude the rest, that which was false in which could not offend me. Therefore am I unwilling, O my God, to be so headstrong as not to believe that from You this man [ Moses] has received so much. He, surely, when he wrote those words, perceived and thought whatever of truth we have been able to discover, yea, and whatever we have not been able, nor yet are able, though still it may be found in them.

Finally, Lord, who are God and not flesh and blood, if a human being perceives something less fully, can anything be hidden from Your good Spirit, who will lead me into the land of uprightness? You were going to reveal through those words something to future readers, even though the one who spoke them chose just one meaning among the many interpretations that could have been found. If this is the case, let what he thought be more exalted than the others. But show us, Lord, either that same meaning or any other true one that pleases You. Whether You reveal to us what You showed to that servant of Yours, or something else prompted by the same words, feed us and do not let error deceive us. Look, Lord my God, at how much we have written about just a few words—how much, I ask You! What strength of ours, what span of time would be enough to treat all Your books this way? So permit me to confess to You more briefly in these matters and to choose one true, certain, and good sense that You inspire, even though many senses present themselves—and where many do exist, I may choose. This is the faith of my confession: if I say what Your minister meant, rightly and profitably, I should strive for that. But if I don't achieve it, I may still say what Your Truth wanted to say to me through those words—the same Truth that also said to him what it wanted.

43. Finally, O Lord, who art God, and not flesh and blood, if man does see anything less, can anything lie hidden from Your good Spirit, who shall lead me into the land of uprightness, which You Yourself, by those words, were about to reveal to future readers, although he through whom they were spoken, amid the many interpretations that might have been found, fixed on but one? Which, if it be so, let that which he thought on be more exalted than the rest. But to us, O Lord, either point out the same, or any other true one which may be pleasing unto You; so that whether You make known to us that which You did to that man of Yours, or some other by occasion of the same words, yet You may feed us, not error deceive us. Behold, O Lord my God, how many things we have written concerning a few words — how many, I beseech You! What strength of ours, what ages would suffice for all Your books after this manner? Permit me, therefore, in these more briefly to confess unto You, and to select some one true, certain, and good sense, that You shall inspire, although many senses offer themselves, where many, indeed, I may; this being the faith of my confession, that if I should say that which Your minister felt, rightly and profitably, this I should strive for; the which if I shall not attain, yet I may say that which Your Truth willed through Its words to say unto me, which said also unto him what It willed.

O Lord, since eternity belongs to You, are You unaware of what I am saying to You? Or do You see only at the moment when something happens in time? Why, then, do I set before You so many accounts of things? Certainly not so that You might learn them from me, but so that I may stir up my own love and that of my readers toward You, so that we may all say, Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised. I have already said this, and I will say it again, because I do this for the love of Your love. For we pray even though Truth says, Your Father knows what things you need before you ask Him. Therefore we make our love known to You by confessing to You our own miseries and Your mercies upon us, so that You may free us completely, since You have begun the work, so that we may stop being wretched in ourselves and may be blessed in You; since You have called us to be poor in spirit, and meek, and mourners, and hungering and thirsting after righteousness, and merciful, and pure in heart, and peacemakers. Look, I have told You many things, as many as I could and as I wished, because You first wanted me to confess to You, the Lord my God, for You are good, since Your mercy endures forever.

1. O Lord, since eternity is Yours, are You ignorant of the things which I say unto You? Or see Thou at the time that which comes to pass in time? Why, therefore, do I place before You so many relations of things? Not surely that You might know them through me, but that I may awaken my own love and that of my readers towards You, that we may all say, Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised. I have already said, and shall say, for the love of Your love do I this. For we also pray, and yet Truth says, Your Father knows what things you have need of before you ask Him. Matthew 6:8 Therefore do we make known unto You our love, in confessing unto You our own miseries and Your mercies upon us, that You may free us altogether, since You have begun, that we may cease to be wretched in ourselves, and that we may be blessed in You; since You have called us, that we may be poor in spirit, and meek, and mourners, and hungering and thirsty after righteousness, and merciful, and pure in heart, and peacemakers. Matthew 5:3-9 Behold, I have told unto You many things, which I could and which I would, for You first would have me confess unto You, the Lord my God, for You are good, since Your mercy endures forever.

But when will I be able with my writing to express all your exhortations, all your warnings, comforts, and guidance by which you have led me to preach your Word and administer your Sacrament to your people? And even if I am able to express these things in order, every moment of time is precious to me. I have long burned to meditate on your law, and in it to confess to you my knowledge and my ignorance, the beginning of your enlightening and the remnants of my darkness, until weakness is swallowed up by strength. And I do not want those hours to be spent on anything else—those hours I find free from the necessities of refreshing my body, the care of my mind, and the service we owe to others, and which, though we do not owe it, we still render.

2. But when shall I suffice with the tongue of my pen to express all Your exhortations, and all Your terrors, and comforts, and guidances, whereby You have led me to preach Your Word and to dispense Your Sacrament unto Your people? And if I suffice to utter these things in order, the drops of time are dear to me. Long time have I burned to meditate in Your law, and in it to confess to You my knowledge and ignorance, the beginning of Your enlightening, and the remains of my darkness, until infirmity be swallowed up by strength. And I would not that to anything else those hours should flow away, which I find free from the necessities of refreshing my body, and the care of my mind, and of the service which we owe to men, and which, though we owe not, even yet we pay.

Lord my God, hear my prayer, and let Your mercy look upon my longing, which does not burn for myself alone but desires to serve brotherly love. You see into my heart that this is true. I want to offer You the service of my thoughts and words. Give me what I need to offer You. I am poor and needy, but You are rich to all who call on You, and though You are free from care, You care for us. Cut away all rashness and all lies from my inner and outer lips. Let Your Scriptures be my pure delights. Do not let me be deceived by them or use them to deceive others. Lord, hear and have mercy, Lord my God, light of the blind and strength of the weak, and also light of those who see and strength of the strong. Listen to my soul and hear it crying from the depths. If Your ears are not present even in the depths, where can we go? Where can we cry out? The day is Yours, and the night is Yours too. At Your command the moments fly past. Grant us time within this for our meditations on the hidden things of Your law, and do not close it against us who knock. You did not will that the obscure secrets of so many pages should be written in vain. Those forests do have their deer who take refuge there, wandering, walking, feeding, lying down, and chewing the cud. Make me complete, Lord, and reveal these things to me. Your voice is my joy; Your voice surpasses the abundance of pleasures. Give me what I love, for I do love, and this You have given. Do not abandon Your own gifts or despise Your grass that thirsts. Let me confess to You whatever I find in Your books. Let me hear the voice of praise, and let me drink You in and meditate on the wonderful things of Your law, from the beginning when You made the heaven and the earth to the everlasting kingdom of Your holy city that is with You.

3. O Lord my God, hear my prayer, and let Your mercy regard my longing, since it burns not for myself alone, but because it desires to benefit brotherly charity; and You see into my heart, that so it is. I would sacrifice to You the service of my thought and tongue; and do Thou give what I may offer unto You. For I am poor and needy, Thou rich unto all that call upon You, Romans 10:12 who free from care carest for us. Circumcise from all rashness and from all lying my inward and outward lips. Exodus 6:12 Let Your Scriptures be my chaste delights. Neither let me be deceived in them, nor deceive out of them. Lord, hear and pity, O Lord my God, light of the blind, and strength of the weak; even also light of those that see, and strength of the strong, hearken unto my soul, and hear it crying out of the depths. For unless Your ears be present in the depths also, whither shall we go? Whither shall we cry? The day is Yours, and the night also is Yours. At Your nod the moments flee by. Grant thereof space for our meditations among the hidden things of Your law, nor close it against us who knock. For not in vain have You willed that the obscure secret of so many pages should be written. Nor is it that those forests have not their harts, betaking themselves therein, and ranging, and walking, and feeding, lying down, and ruminating. Perfect me, O Lord, and reveal them unto me. Behold, Your voice is my joy, Your voice surpasses the abundance of pleasures. Give that which I love, for I do love; and this have You given. Abandon not Your own gifts, nor despise Your grass that thirsts. Let me confess unto You whatsoever I shall have found in Your books, and let me hear the voice of praise, and let me imbibe You, and reflect on the wonderful things of Your law; even from the beginning, wherein You made the heaven and the earth, unto the everlasting kingdom of Your holy city that is with You.

Lord, have mercy on me and hear my desire. For I believe that it does not concern earthly things, nor gold and silver and precious stones, nor beautiful clothing, nor honors and positions, nor physical pleasures, nor the necessities of the body and this life of our earthly journey—all of which are given to those who seek Your kingdom and Your righteousness. Look, O Lord my God, at what my desire truly is. The unrighteous have told me about their pleasures, but not such as Your law, O Lord. Look at what my desire is. Look, Father, examine and see, and approve; and may it be pleasing in the sight of Your mercy, that I may find grace before You, so that the hidden meanings of Your Word may be opened to me when I knock. I beg this through our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son, the Man of Your right hand, the Son of man, whom You made strong for Yourself, as Your Mediator and ours, through whom You have sought us when we were not seeking You, but sought us so that we might seek You—Your Word through whom You have made all things, including me, Your Only-begotten, through whom You have called the believing people to adoption, including me. I beg You through Him, who sits at Your right hand and intercedes for us, in whom all treasures of wisdom and knowledge are hidden. I seek Him in Your books. Moses wrote about Him; He says this Himself; the Truth says this.

4. Lord, have mercy on me and hear my desire. For I think that it is not of the earth, nor of gold and silver, and precious stones, nor gorgeous apparel, nor honours and powers, nor the pleasures of the flesh, nor necessaries for the body, and this life of our pilgrimage; all which are added to those that seek Your kingdom and Your righteousness. Matthew 6:33 Behold, O Lord my God, whence is my desire. The unrighteous have told me of delights, but not such as Your law, O Lord. Behold whence is my desire. Behold, Father, look and see, and approve; and let it be pleasing in the sight of Your mercy, that I may find grace before You, that the secret things of Your Word may be opened unto me when I knock. I beseech, by our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son, the Man of Your right hand, the Son of man, whom You made strong for Yourself, as Your Mediator and ours, through whom You have sought us, although not seeking You, but sought us that we might seek You, — Your Word through whom You have made all things, John 1:3 and among them me also, Your Only-begotten, through whom You have called to adoption the believing people, and therein me also. I beseech You through Him, who sits at Your right hand, and makes intercession for us, Romans 8:34 in whom are hid all treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Colossians 2:3 Him do I seek in Your books. Of Him did Moses write; John 5:4-6 this says Himself; this says the Truth.

Let me hear and understand how in the beginning You made the heaven and the earth. Moses wrote this; he wrote and departed—passed from here to You. He is not before me now; for if he were, I would hold him and ask him, and I would beg him by You that he would explain these things to me, and I would listen carefully to the sounds coming from his mouth. And if he spoke in the Hebrew tongue, it would strike my senses in vain, and nothing would reach my mind; but if in Latin, I would know what he said. But how would I know whether what he said was true? And even if I knew this, would I know it from him? Truly, within me, within the chamber of my thought, Truth—neither Hebrew, nor Greek, nor Latin, nor barbarian, without the organs of voice and tongue, without the sound of syllables—would say, "He speaks the truth," and I, immediately assured of it, would confidently say to that man of Yours, "You speak the truth." Since, then, I cannot question him, I beg You—You, O Truth, full of whom he spoke truth—You, my God, I beg, forgive my sins; and You, who gave to that servant of Yours the ability to speak these things, grant to me also to understand them.

5. Let me hear and understand how in the beginning Thou made the heaven and the earth. Genesis 1:1 Moses wrote this; he wrote and departed — passed hence from You to You. Nor now is he before me; for if he were I would hold him, and ask him, and would adjure him by You that he would open unto me these things, and I would lend the ears of my body to the sounds bursting forth from his mouth. And should he speak in the Hebrew tongue, in vain would it beat on my senses, nor would anything touch my mind; but if in Latin, I should know what he said. But whence should I know whether he said what was true? But if I knew this even, should I know it from him? Verily within me, within in the chamber of my thought, Truth, neither Hebrew, nor Greek, nor Latin, nor barbarian, without the organs of voice and tongue, without the sound of syllables, would say, He speaks the truth, and I, immediately assured of it, confidently would say unto that man of Yours, You speak the truth. As, then, I cannot inquire of him, I beseech You — You, O Truth, full of whom he spoke truth — You, my God, I beseech, forgive my sins; and do Thou, who gave to that Your servant to speak these things, grant to me also to understand them.

Look, heaven and earth exist, and they declare that they were made, because they change and vary. But anything that has not been made yet still exists contains nothing in it that wasn't there before—that's what it means to change and vary. Heaven and earth also declare that they did not make themselves. Their testimony is this: "We exist because we have been made. We did not exist before we came to be, so we could not have made ourselves." The voice of those who speak is itself proof. Therefore, Lord, you made these things. You are beautiful, and so they are beautiful. You are good, and so they are good. You exist, and so they exist. Yet they are not beautiful, good, or existent in the same way you their Creator are. Compared with you, they are not truly beautiful, not truly good, and do not truly exist at all. We know these things—thanks be to you. And our knowledge, compared with your knowledge, is ignorance.

6. Behold, the heaven and earth are; they proclaim that they were made, for they are changed and varied. Whereas whatsoever has not been made, and yet has being, has nothing in it which there was not before; this is what it is to be changed and varied. They also proclaim that they made not themselves; therefore we are, because we have been made; we were not therefore before we were, so that we could have made ourselves. And the voice of those that speak is in itself an evidence. You, therefore, Lord, made these things; Thou who art beautiful, for they are beautiful; Thou who art good, for they are good; Thou who art, for they are. Nor even so are they beautiful, nor good, nor are they, as Thou their Creator art; compared with whom they are neither beautiful, nor good, nor are at all. These things we know, thanks be to You. And our knowledge, compared with Your knowledge, is ignorance.

But how did you make the heaven and the earth, and what was the instrument of your so mighty work? For you did not work like a human craftsman fashioning body from body, according to the imagination of his mind, somehow able to impose a form which he perceives within himself by his inner eye. And how would he be able to do this, unless you had made that mind? And he imposes a form on something already existing, already having being, whether clay, or stone, or wood, or gold, or the like. And where would these things come from, unless you had provided them? You made the workman's body—you made the mind commanding the limbs—you made the matter from which he makes anything—you made the capacity by which he may grasp his art and see within what he may do outwardly—you made the sense of his body, by which, as through an interpreter, he may transfer from mind to matter what he does, and report back to his mind what has been done, so that his mind within may consult the truth, presiding over itself, whether it has been done well. All these things praise you, the Creator of all. But how do you make them? How, O God, did you make heaven and earth? Truly, you did not make heaven and earth in the heaven or in the earth; nor in the air, nor in the waters, since these also belong to the heaven and the earth; nor in the whole world did you make the whole world, because there was no place where it could be made before it was made, so that it might exist; nor did you hold anything in your hand with which to make heaven and earth. For where could you have obtained what you had not made, with which to make anything? For what exists, except because you are? Therefore you spoke and they were made, and in your Word you made these things.

7. But how did Thou make the heaven and the earth, and what was the instrument of Your so mighty work? For it was not as a human worker fashioning body from body, according to the fancy of his mind, in somewise able to assign a form which it perceives in itself by its inner eye. And whence should he be able to do this, had not Thou made that mind? And he assigns to it already existing, and as it were having a being, a form, as clay, or stone, or wood, or gold, or such like. And whence should these things be, had not Thou appointed them? Thou made for the workman his body — Thou the mind commanding the limbs — Thou the matter whereof he makes anything, — Thou the capacity whereby he may apprehend his art, and see within what he may do without — Thou the sense of his body, by which, as by an interpreter, he may from mind unto matter convey that which he does, and report to his mind what may have been done, that it within may consult the truth, presiding over itself, whether it be well done. All these things praise You, the Creator of all. But how do You make them? How, O God, did Thou make heaven and earth? Truly, neither in the heaven nor in the earth did Thou make heaven and earth; nor in the air, nor in the waters, since these also belong to the heaven and the earth; nor in the whole world did Thou make the whole world; because there was no place wherein it could be made before it was made, that it might be; nor did Thou hold anything in Your hand wherewith to make heaven and earth. For whence could You have what You had not made, whereof to make anything? For what is, save because You are? Therefore You spoke and they were made, and in Your Word You made these things.

But how did you speak? Was it in the same way the voice came from the cloud, saying, "This is my beloved Son"? For that voice was spoken and passed away, it began and ended. The syllables sounded and went by, the second after the first, the third after the second, and so on in sequence, until the last after the rest, and silence after the last. From this it is clear and obvious that the motion of a creature expressed it, a motion that was itself temporal, obeying your eternal will. And these words of yours formed at that time were conveyed by the outer ear to the intelligent mind, whose inner ear was listening attentively to your eternal word. But the mind compared these words sounding in time with your eternal word in silence, and said, "It is different, very different. These words are far beneath me, and they are not truly real, since they flee and pass away; but the Word of my Lord remains above me forever." If, then, you spoke in sounding and fleeting words that heaven and earth should be made, and by this made heaven and earth, there was already a bodily creature before heaven and earth, through whose temporal movements that voice might take its course in time. But there was nothing bodily before heaven and earth; or if there was, certainly you without a passing voice had created that from which you would make the passing voice by which to say that heaven and earth should be made. For whatever that thing was from which such a voice was made, unless it was made by you, it could not exist at all. By what word of yours was it decreed that a body might be made through which these words might be made?

8. But how did Thou speak? Was it in that manner in which the voice came from the cloud, saying, This is my beloved Son? Matthew 17:5 For that voice was uttered and passed away, began and ended. The syllables sounded and passed by, the second after the first, the third after the second, and thence in order, until the last after the rest, and silence after the last. Hence it is clear and plain that the motion of a creature expressed it, itself temporal, obeying Your Eternal will. And these your words formed at the time, the outer ear conveyed to the intelligent mind, whose inner ear lay attentive to Your eternal word. But it compared these words sounding in time with Your eternal word in silence, and said, It is different, very different. These words are far beneath me, nor are they, since they flee and pass away; but the Word of my Lord remains above me forever. If, then, in sounding and fleeting words Thou said that heaven and earth should be made, and thus made heaven and earth, there was already a corporeal creature before heaven and earth by whose temporal motions that voice might take its course in time. But there was nothing corporeal before heaven and earth; or if there were, certainly Thou without a transitory voice had created that whence You would make the passing voice, by which to say that the heaven and the earth should be made. For whatsoever that were of which such a voice was made, unless it were made by You, it could not be at all. By what word of Yours was it decreed that a body might be made, whereby these words might be made?

You call us, therefore, to understand the Word, God with You, God, which is spoken eternally, and by it all things are spoken eternally. For what was spoken was not finished so that another thing could be spoken until all were spoken; rather, all things are spoken at once and forever. For otherwise we would have time and change, and not a true eternity nor a true immortality. This I know, O my God, and give thanks. I know, I confess to You, O Lord, and whoever is not unthankful to certain truth knows and blesses You with me. We know, O Lord, we know: to the extent that anything is not what it was, and is what it was not, to that extent it dies and arises. Therefore, nothing of Your Word gives place and comes into place again, because it is truly immortal and eternal. And therefore, to the Word co-eternal with You, You say at once and forever all that You say; and whatever You say shall be made, is made. Nor do You make otherwise than by speaking; yet not all things which You make by speaking are made both together and everlasting.

9. You call us, therefore, to understand the Word, God with You, God, John 1:1 which is spoken eternally, and by it are all things spoken eternally. For what was spoken was not finished, and another spoken until all were spoken; but all things at once and forever. For otherwise have we time and change, and not a true eternity, nor a true immortality. This I know, O my God, and give thanks. I know, I confess to You, O Lord, and whosoever is not unthankful to certain truth, knows and blesses You with me. We know, O Lord, we know; since in proportion as anything is not what it was, and is what it was not, in that proportion does it die and arise. Not anything, therefore, of Your Word gives place and comes into place again, because it is truly immortal and eternal. And, therefore, unto the Word co-eternal with You, You at once and for ever say all that You say; and whatever You say shall be made, is made; nor do You make otherwise than by speaking; yet all things are not made both together and everlasting which You make by speaking.

Why is this, I ask You, O Lord my God? I see it, but I don't know how to express it, except that everything which begins to exist and ceases to exist begins and ceases when in Your eternal Reason it is known that it ought to begin or cease—where nothing begins or ceases. This same eternal Reason is Your Word, which is also the Beginning, because It also speaks to us. So in the gospel He speaks through the flesh, and this sounded outwardly in people's ears so that it might be believed and sought inwardly, and so that it might be found in the eternal Truth, where the good and only Master teaches all His disciples. There, O Lord, I hear Your voice, the voice of one speaking to me, since He who teaches us speaks to us. But someone who does not teach us, even though he speaks, does not speak to us. Moreover, who teaches us except the immutable Truth? For even when we are instructed through a changeable creature, we are led to the immutable Truth. There we truly learn while we stand and hear Him, and rejoice greatly because of the Bridegroom's voice, restoring us to that from which we came. And therefore, the Beginning—because unless It remained, there would not be anywhere for us to return to when we have strayed. But when we return from error, it is by knowing that we return. And so that we may know, He teaches us, because He is the Beginning and speaks to us.

10. Why is this, I beseech You, O Lord my God? I see it, however; but how I shall express it, I know not, unless that everything which begins to be and ceases to be, then begins and ceases when in Your eternal Reason it is known that it ought to begin or cease where nothing begins or ceases. The same is Your Word, which is also the Beginning, because also It speaks unto us. Thus, in the gospel He speaks through the flesh; and this sounded outwardly in the ears of men, that it might be believed and sought inwardly, and that it might be found in the eternal Truth, where the good and only Master teaches all His disciples. There, O Lord, I hear Your voice, the voice of one speaking unto me, since He speaks unto us who teaches us. But He that teaches us not, although He speaks, speaks not to us. Moreover, who teaches us, unless it be the immutable Truth? For even when we are admonished through a changeable creature, we are led to the Truth immutable. There we learn truly while we stand and hear Him, and rejoice greatly because of the Bridegroom's voice, John 3:29 restoring us to that whence we are. And, therefore, the Beginning, because unless It remained, there would not, where we strayed, be whither to return. But when we return from error, it is by knowing that we return. But that we may know, He teaches us, because He is the Beginning and speaks unto us.

In this Beginning, O God, You have made heaven and earth—in Your Word, in Your Son, in Your Power, in Your Wisdom, in Your Truth, speaking wondrously and making wondrously. Who can comprehend this? Who can explain it? What is this that shines through me and strikes my heart without harming it, making me both shudder and burn? I shudder because I am unlike it, and I burn because I am like it. It is Wisdom itself that shines through me, clearing away my cloudiness, which then overwhelms me again as I grow faint from it, in the darkness and weight of my punishment. For my strength is brought down by need, so that I cannot endure my blessings, until You, O Lord, who have been gracious to all my sins, also heal all my weaknesses; for You will redeem my life from corruption and crown me with Your loving-kindness and mercy, and You will satisfy my desire with good things, so that my youth will be renewed like the eagle's. For we are saved by hope, and through patience we wait for Your promises. Let whoever is able hear You speaking within. I will cry out with confidence from Your oracle: How wonderful are Your works, O Lord; in Wisdom You have made them all. And this Wisdom is the Beginning, and in that Beginning You have made heaven and earth.

11. In this Beginning, O God, have You made heaven and earth — in Your Word, in Your Son, in Your Power, in Your Wisdom, in Your Truth, wondrously speaking and wondrously making. Who shall comprehend? Who shall relate it? What is that which shines through me, and strikes my heart without injury, and I both shudder and burn? I shudder inasmuch as I am unlike it; and I burn inasmuch as I am like it. It is Wisdom itself that shines through me, clearing my cloudiness, which again overwhelms me, fainting from it, in the darkness and amount of my punishment. For my strength is brought down in need, so that I cannot endure my blessings, until Thou, O Lord, who hast been gracious to all mine iniquities, heal also all mine infirmities; because You shall also redeem my life from corruption, and crown me with Your loving-kindness and mercy, and shall satisfy my desire with good things, because my youth shall be renewed like the eagle's. For by hope we are saved; and through patience we await Your promises. Romans 8:24-25 Let him that is able hear You discoursing within. I will with confidence cry out from Your oracle, How wonderful are Your works, O Lord, in Wisdom have You made them all. And this Wisdom is the Beginning, and in that Beginning have You made heaven and earth.

Look, aren't they full of their old errors, those who ask us, What was God doing before He made heaven and earth? For if, they say, He was idle and doing nothing, why doesn't He also forever, and from now on, stop working, just as He did in the past? For if any new movement has come about in God, and a new will, to make a creature which He had never made before, how can that be true eternity where a will arises that did not exist before? For the will of God is not a creature, but exists before the creature; because nothing could be created unless the will of the Creator existed before it. The will of God, therefore, belongs to His very Substance. But if anything has come about in the Substance of God that did not exist before, that Substance cannot truly be called eternal. But if it was the eternal will of God that the creature should exist, why was the creature not also eternal?

12. Lo, are they not full of their ancient way, who say to us, What was God doing before He made heaven and earth? For if, say they, He were unoccupied, and did nothing, why does He not for ever also, and from henceforth, cease from working, as in times past He did? For if any new motion has arisen in God, and a new will, to form a creature which He had never before formed, however can that be a true eternity where there arises a will which was not before? For the will of God is not a creature, but before the creature; because nothing could be created unless the will of the Creator were before it. The will of God, therefore, pertains to His very Substance. But if anything has arisen in the Substance of God which was not before, that Substance is not truly called eternal. But if it was the eternal will of God that the creature should be, why was not the creature also from eternity?

Those who say these things do not yet understand You, O Wisdom of God, Light of souls. They do not yet understand how the things that are made by and in You come to be. They even try to comprehend eternal things, but their heart still flies about in the past and future movements of things and remains wavering. Who will hold it and fix it so that it may rest a little and gradually grasp the glory of that ever-standing eternity, and compare it with the times that never stand still, and see that there is no comparison? Who will help them see that a long time cannot become long except from the many movements that pass by, which cannot be extended all at the same instant, but that in the Eternal nothing passes away—rather, the whole is present—while no time is wholly present? And who will let them see that all past time is driven forward by the future, and all the future follows from the past, and that all things, both past and future, are created and flow from that which is always present? Who will hold the heart of a person so that it may stand still and see how the eternally-standing eternity, itself neither future nor past, brings forth the times future and past? Can my hand accomplish this, or can the hand of my mouth through persuasion bring about something so great?

13. Those who say these things do not as yet understand You, O Thou Wisdom of God, Thou light of souls; not as yet do they understand how these things be made which are made by and in You. They even endeavour to comprehend things eternal; but as yet their heart flies about in the past and future motions of things, and is still wavering. Who shall hold it and fix it, that it may rest a little, and by degrees catch the glory of that everstanding eternity, and compare it with the times which never stand, and see that it is incomparable; and that a long time cannot become long, save from the many motions that pass by, which cannot at the same instant be prolonged; but that in the Eternal nothing passes away, but that the whole is present; but no time is wholly present; and let him see that all time past is forced on by the future, and that all the future follows from the past, and that all, both past and future, is created and issues from that which is always present? Who will hold the heart of man, that it may stand still, and see how the still-standing eternity, itself neither future nor past, utters the times future and past? Can my hand accomplish this, or the hand of my mouth by persuasion bring about a thing so great?

Here, I answer the person who asks, "What was God doing before He made heaven and earth?" I do not answer as a certain person is reported to have done jokingly (dodging the force of the question), "He was preparing hell," he says, "for those who pry into mysteries." It is one thing to understand, another to laugh—I do not answer in these ways. For I would more willingly have answered, "I do not know what I do not know," than make the one who asks profound questions into a laughingstock and gain praise as someone who answers falsely. But I say that You, our God, are the Creator of every creature; and if by the term "heaven and earth" every creature is meant, I boldly say that before God made heaven and earth, He made nothing. For if He did, what did He make except the creature? And I wish I knew whatever I desire to know for my benefit, as surely as I know that no creature was made before any creature was made.

14. Behold, I answer to him who asks, What was God doing before He made heaven and earth? I answer not, as a certain person is reported to have done facetiously (avoiding the pressure of the question), He was preparing hell, says he, for those who pry into mysteries. It is one thing to perceive, another to laugh — these things I answer not. For more willingly would I have answered, I know not what I know not, than that I should make him a laughing-stock who asks deep things, and gain praise as one who answers false things. But I say that Thou, our God, art the Creator of every creature; and if by the term heaven and earth every creature is understood, I boldly say, That before God made heaven and earth, He made not anything. For if He did, what did He make unless the creature? And would that I knew whatever I desire to know to my advantage, as I know that no creature was made before any creature was made.

But if someone's wandering thoughts roam through images of past time, and they wonder why You, the Almighty God, the Creator and Sustainer of all, the Architect of heaven and earth, held back from such a great work for countless ages before You made it, let that person wake up and realize he is wondering about false things. For how could countless ages pass by that You did not make, since You are the Author and Creator of all ages? Or what times could those be that were not made by You? Or how could they pass by if they had never existed? Therefore, since You are the Creator of all times, if any time existed before You made heaven and earth, why would anyone say that You held back from working? For You made that very time itself, and times could not pass by before You made times. But if there was no time before heaven and earth, why does anyone ask, "What were You doing then?" For there was no "then" when time did not exist.

15. But if the roving thought of any one should wander through the images of bygone time, and wonder that You, the God Almighty, and All-creating, and All-sustaining, the Architect of heaven and earth, for innumerable ages refrained from so great a work before You would make it, let him awake and consider that he wonders at false things. For whence could innumerable ages pass by which You did not make, since You are the Author and Creator of all ages? Or what times should those be which were not made by You? Or how should they pass by if they had not been? Since, therefore, You are the Creator of all times, if any time was before You made heaven and earth, why is it said that You refrained from working? For that very time You made, nor could times pass by before You made times. But if before heaven and earth there was no time, why is it asked, What were You doing then? For there was no then when time was not.

You do not precede time by means of time; otherwise You would not precede all times. Rather, in the excellence of an eternally present eternity, You precede all past times and outlast all future times, because they are future, and when they arrive they will be past. But You are the same, and Your years will have no end. Your years neither come nor go, but ours both come and go so that all of them may come in succession. All Your years exist simultaneously because they stand together. They are not pushed out by arriving years as departing years leave, because they do not pass away. But all our years will only exist completely when they all cease to exist. Your years are one day, and Your day is not a daily occurrence but today—because Your today does not give way to tomorrow, nor does it follow yesterday. Your today is eternity. Therefore You fathered the Co-eternal One, to whom You said, "This day I have begotten You." You made all time, and before all times You exist, nor was there any time when time did not exist.

16. Nor dost Thou by time precede time; else would not Thou precede all times. But in the excellency of an ever-present eternity, Thou precedest all times past, and survivest all future times, because they are future, and when they have come they will be past; but You are the same, and Your years shall have no end. Your years neither go nor come; but ours both go and come, that all may come. All Your years stand at once since they do stand; nor were they when departing excluded by coming years, because they pass not away; but all these of ours shall be when all shall cease to be. Your years are one day, and Your day is not daily, but today; because Your today yields not with tomorrow, for neither does it follow yesterday. Your today is eternity; therefore You begot the Co- eternal, to whom You said, This day have I begotten You. You have made all time; and before all times You are, nor in any time was there not time.

At no time, therefore, had You not made anything, because You had made time itself. And no times are co-eternal with You, because You remain forever; but if these times were to continue, they would not be times. For what is time? Who can easily and briefly explain it? Who can even grasp it in thought well enough to speak a word about it? But what do we refer to more familiarly and knowingly in our speech than time? And we certainly understand it when we speak of it; we also understand it when we hear another person speak of it. What, then, is time? If no one asks me, I know; if I want to explain it to someone who asks, I do not know. Yet I say with confidence that I know this: if nothing passed away, there would be no past time; and if nothing were coming, there would be no future time; and if nothing existed, there would be no present time. Those two times, therefore, past and future, how do they exist, when the past no longer is and the future is not yet? But if the present were always present and did not pass into past time, it truly could not be time, but eternity. If, then, the present time—if it is to be time—only comes into existence because it passes into past time, how can we say that even this exists, when its cause of being is that it will not be—namely, so that we cannot truly say that time exists, except because it tends toward non-being?

17. At no time, therefore, had Thou not made anything, because You had made time itself. And no times are co-eternal with You, because You remain for ever; but should these continue, they would not be times. For what is time? Who can easily and briefly explain it? Who even in thought can comprehend it, even to the pronouncing of a word concerning it? But what in speaking do we refer to more familiarly and knowingly than time? And certainly we understand when we speak of it; we understand also when we hear it spoken of by another. What, then, is time? If no one ask of me, I know; if I wish to explain to him who asks, I know not. Yet I say with confidence, that I know that if nothing passed away, there would not be past time; and if nothing were coming, there would not be future time; and if nothing were, there would not be present time. Those two times, therefore, past and future, how are they, when even the past now is not; and the future is not as yet? But should the present be always present, and should it not pass into time past, time truly it could not be, but eternity. If, then, time present — if it be time — only comes into existence because it passes into time past, how do we say that even this is, whose cause of being is that it shall not be — namely, so that we cannot truly say that time is, unless because it tends not to be?

And yet we say that time is long and time is short, but we only speak this way about past and future time. For example, we call a hundred years ago a long time past, and similarly, a hundred years from now a long time to come. But we call ten days ago a short time past, and ten days from now a short time to come. But in what sense is something long or short when it doesn't exist? For the past no longer exists, and the future doesn't exist yet. So let us not say "It is long," but rather let us say of the past "It was long," and of the future "It will be long." O my Lord, my light, won't even here Your truth mock man? For that past time which was long—was it long when it had already become past, or when it was still present? It could only be long when there was something that could be long, but once it became past it no longer existed. Therefore what didn't exist at all couldn't be long. So let us not say "Past time was long," because we won't find anything that could have been long, since once it became past it no longer exists. Instead, let us say that present time was long, because when it was present it was long. For it had not yet passed away into non-existence, and therefore there was something that could be long. But after it passed, it also ceased to be long because it ceased to exist.

18. And yet we say that time is long and time is short; nor do we speak of this save of time past and future. A long time past, for example, we call a hundred years ago; in like manner a long time to come, a hundred years hence. But a short time past we call, say, ten days ago: and a short time to come, ten days hence. But in what sense is that long or short which is not? For the past is not now, and the future is not yet. Therefore let us not say, It is long; but let us say of the past, It has been long, and of the future, It will be long. O my Lord, my light, shall not even here Your truth deride man? For that past time which was long, was it long when it was already past, or when it was as yet present? For then it might be long when there was that which could be long, but when past it no longer was; wherefore that could not be long which was not at all. Let us not, therefore, say, Time past has been long; for we shall not find what may have been long, seeing that since it was past it is not; but let us say that present time was long, because when it was present it was long. For it had not as yet passed away so as not to be, and therefore there was that which could be long. But after it passed, that ceased also to be long which ceased to be.

Let us therefore see, O human soul, whether present time can be long; for it is given to you to perceive and to measure periods of time. What will you reply to me? Is a hundred years when present a long time? See, first, whether a hundred years can be present. For if the first year of these is happening now, that is present, but the other ninety-nine are future, and therefore they do not yet exist. But if the second year is happening now, one is already past, the other present, the rest future. And so, if we fix on any middle year of this hundred as present, those before it are past, those after it are future; therefore a hundred years cannot be present. See at least whether that year itself which is current can be present. For if its first month is current, the rest are future; if the second, the first has already passed, and the remainder are not yet. Therefore the year which is current is not wholly present as a whole; and if it is not present as a whole, then the year is not present. For twelve months make the year, of which each individual month which is current is itself present, but the rest are either past or future. Yet that month which is current is not present either, but only one day: if the first, the rest being to come, if the last, the rest being past; if any of the middle days, then it is between past and future.

19. Let us therefore see, O human soul, whether present time can be long; for to you is it given to perceive and to measure periods of time. What will you reply to me? Is a hundred years when present a long time? See, first, whether a hundred years can be present. For if the first year of these is current, that is present, but the other ninety and nine are future, and therefore they are not as yet. But if the second year is current, one is already past, the other present, the rest future. And thus, if we fix on any middle year of this hundred as present, those before it are past, those after it are future; wherefore a hundred years cannot be present. See at least whether that year itself which is current can be present. For if its first month be current, the rest are future; if the second, the first has already passed, and the remainder are not yet. Therefore neither is the year which is current as a whole present; and if it is not present as a whole, then the year is not present. For twelve months make the year, of which each individual month which is current is itself present, but the rest are either past or future. Although neither is that month which is current present, but one day only: if the first, the rest being to come, if the last, the rest being past; if any of the middle, then between past and future.

Look, the present time—which we found is the only time that can really be called long—is actually cut down to barely the space of one day. But let's examine even that one day more carefully, because not even a single day exists as a whole in the present. A day is made up of twenty-four hours of night and day. The first hour has all the rest still in the future, the last hour has all the rest in the past, and any hour in between has the hours before it in the past and the hours after it in the future. And even that one hour passes away in fleeting fragments. Whatever part of it has flown by is past, and whatever remains is future. If we imagine any portion of time that cannot be divided any further—not even into the tiniest particles of moments—only that would be what we can call present. Yet even this flies so rapidly from future to past that it cannot be stretched out by any delay. For if it were stretched out, it would be divided into past and future, but the present has no extension. So where is the time that we can call long? Is it in the future? We don't say, "It is long," because it doesn't exist yet to be long. Instead we say, "It will be long." When will it be long, then? Even when that time arrives, since it's still future, it won't be long because what could be long doesn't exist yet. It will only be long when it has already begun to exist—when it has emerged from the future, which doesn't yet exist, and has become present so that there is actually something that can be long. But then the present time itself cries out in the words above that it cannot be long.

20. Behold, the present time, which alone we found could be called long, is abridged to the space scarcely of one day. But let us discuss even that, for there is not one day present as a whole. For it is made up of four-and-twenty hours of night and day, whereof the first has the rest future, the last has them past, but any one of the intervening has those before it past, those after it future. And that one hour passes away in fleeting particles. Whatever of it has flown away is past, whatever remains is future. If any portion of time be conceived which cannot now be divided into even the minutest particles of moments, this only is that which may be called present; which, however, flies so rapidly from future to past, that it cannot be extended by any delay. For if it be extended, it is divided into the past and future; but the present has no space. Where, therefore, is the time which we may call long? Is it nature? Indeed we do not say, It is long, because it is not yet, so as to be long; but we say, It will be long. When, then, will it be? For if even then, since as yet it is future, it will not be long, because what may be long is not as yet; but it shall be long, when from the future, which as yet is not, it shall already have begun to be, and will have become present, so that there could be that which may be long; then does the present time cry out in the words above that it cannot be long.

And yet, Lord, we do perceive intervals of time, and we compare them with each other, and we say some are longer and others shorter. We even measure how much shorter or longer this time is than that one, and we answer that this one is double or triple, while that one is single, or only as much as that. But we measure times as they are passing when we measure them by perceiving them. But past times, which no longer exist, or future times, which do not yet exist—who can measure them? Unless perhaps someone will dare to say that what does not exist can be measured. Therefore, when time is passing, it can be perceived and measured. But when it has passed, it cannot be measured, since it no longer exists.

21. And yet, O Lord, we perceive intervals of times, and we compare them with themselves, and we say some are longer, others shorter. We even measure by how much shorter or longer this time may be than that; and we answer, That this is double or treble, while that is but once, or only as much as that. But we measure times passing when we measure them by perceiving them; but past times, which now are not, or future times, which as yet are not, who can measure them? Unless, perchance, any one will dare to say, that that can be measured which is not. When, therefore, time is passing, it can be perceived and measured; but when it has passed, it cannot, since it is not.

I ask, Father, I do not make assertions. O my God, rule and guide me. Who can tell me that there are not three times (as we learned as boys and taught to boys)—the past, present, and future—but only the present, because the other two do not exist? Or do they also exist; but when the future becomes present, does it come forth from some hidden place, and when the present becomes past, does it withdraw into some hidden place? For where did those who have predicted future things see these things, if they do not yet exist? For what does not exist cannot be seen. And those who describe past things could not describe them as true if they did not perceive them in their mind. If these things did not exist, they could not be perceived at all. Therefore, both future and past things do exist.

2. I ask, Father, I do not affirm. O my God, rule and guide me. Who is there who can say to me that there are not three times (as we learned when boys, and as we have taught boys), the past, present, and future, but only present, because these two are not? Or are they also; but when from future it becomes present, comes it forth from some secret place, and when from the present it becomes past, does it retire into anything secret? For where have they, who have foretold future things, seen these things, if as yet they are not? For that which is not cannot be seen. And they who relate things past could not relate them as true, did they not perceive them in their mind. Which things, if they were not, they could in no way be discerned. There are therefore things both future and past.

Allow me, Lord, to search further; my Hope, do not let my purpose fail. For if past and future times exist, I want to know where they are. But even if I cannot yet succeed in this, I still know that wherever they are, they do not exist there as future or past, but as present. For if they are future even there, they do not yet exist there; if they are past even there, they no longer exist there. Therefore, wherever they are, whatever they are, they exist only as present. Although past events are recounted as true, they are drawn out from memory—not the actual events themselves, which have passed, but words formed from images of those events that were imprinted in the mind as footprints during their passage through the senses. My childhood, which no longer exists, belongs to past time, which now does not exist; but when I recall its image and speak of it, I see it in the present, because it still exists in my memory. Whether there is a similar explanation for predicting future things—that images of things which do not yet exist may be perceived as already existing—I confess, my God, I do not know. This much I certainly know: we generally plan our future actions beforehand, and this planning is present; but the action we are planning does not yet exist, because it is future. When we actually begin and start doing what we were planning, then that action will exist, because then it will not be future, but present.

23. Allow me, O Lord, to seek further; O my Hope, let not my purpose be confounded. For if there are times past and future, I desire to know where they are. But if as yet I do not succeed, I still know, wherever they are, that they are not there as future or past, but as present. For if there also they be future, they are not as yet there; if even there they be past, they are no longer there. Wheresoever, therefore, they are, whatsoever they are, they are only so as present. Although past things are related as true, they are drawn out from the memory, — not the things themselves, which have passed, but the words conceived from the images of the things which they have formed in the mind as footprints in their passage through the senses. My childhood, indeed, which no longer is, is in time past, which now is not; but when I call to mind its image, and speak of it, I behold it in the present, because it is as yet in my memory. Whether there be a like cause of foretelling future things, that of things which as yet are not the images may be perceived as already existing, I confess, my God, I know not. This certainly I know, that we generally think before on our future actions, and that this premeditation is present; but that the action whereon we premeditate is not yet, because it is future; which when we shall have entered upon, and have begun to do that which we were premeditating, then shall that action be, because then it is not future, but present.

However this mysterious foreknowledge of future things works, nothing can be seen except what exists now. But what exists now is not future—it's present. So when people say they see future things, they're not actually seeing the things themselves, which don't yet exist (that is, which are future). Rather, they're probably seeing their causes or signs, which already exist. Therefore, for those who are looking at them, these causes or signs are not future but present, and from them future things are conceived in the mind and predicted. These mental conceptions also exist now, and those who make predictions see these present conceptions before them. Let me use an example from this wide variety of things. I see the dawn and predict that the sun is about to rise. What I see is present; what I predict is future—not that the sun itself is future, since it already exists, but its rising, which hasn't happened yet. Yet I couldn't even predict its rising unless I had a mental image of it, which I have now as I speak. But the dawn I see in the sky is not the sun's rising, though it comes before it, nor is it the mental image in my mind. Both of these are seen as present, so that the other thing, which is future, can be predicted. Future things do not yet exist, and if they don't yet exist, they don't exist at all. And if they don't exist, they cannot be seen. But they can be predicted from present things, which exist now and are seen.

24. In whatever manner, therefore, this secret preconception of future things may be, nothing can be seen, save what is. But what now is is not future, but present. When, therefore, they say that things future are seen, it is not themselves, which as yet are not (that is, which are future); but their causes or their signs perhaps are seen, the which already are. Therefore, to those already beholding them, they are not future, but present, from which future things conceived in the mind are foretold. Which conceptions again now are, and they who foretell those things behold these conceptions present before them. Let now so multitudinous a variety of things afford me some example. I behold daybreak; I foretell that the sun is about to rise. That which I behold is present; what I foretell is future — not that the sun is future, which already is; but his rising, which is not yet. Yet even its rising I could not predict unless I had an image of it in my mind, as now I have while I speak. But that dawn which I see in the sky is not the rising of the sun, although it may go before it, nor that imagination in my mind; which two are seen as present, that the other which is future may be foretold. Future things, therefore, are not as yet; and if they are not as yet, they are not. And if they are not, they cannot be seen at all; but they can be foretold from things present which now are, and are seen.

You, therefore, Ruler of Your creatures, what is the method by which You teach souls those things which are future? For You have taught Your prophets. What is that way by which You, to whom nothing is future, teach future things—or rather, teach present things about the future? For what does not exist certainly cannot be taught. This way is too far beyond my understanding; it is too powerful for me, I cannot reach it. But through You I will be enabled to understand, when You have granted it, sweet light of my hidden eyes.

25. You, therefore, Ruler of Your creatures, what is the method by which Thou teachest souls those things which are future? For You have taught Your prophets. What is that way by which Thou, to whom nothing is future, dost teach future things; or rather of future things dost teach present? For what is not, of a certainty cannot be taught. Too far is this way from my view; it is too mighty for me, I cannot attain unto it; but by You I shall be enabled, when You shall have granted it, sweet light of my hidden eyes.

What is now clear and obvious is that neither future nor past things actually exist. Nor is it accurate to say, "There are three times: past, present, and future." Perhaps it would be more accurate to say, "There are three times: a present of past things, a present of present things, and a present of future things." These three do exist somehow in the soul, and I do not see them anywhere else: the present of past things is memory; the present of present things is direct perception; the present of future things is expectation. If we are allowed to speak of these things this way, I see three times, and I acknowledge there are three. One may also say, "There are three times: past, present, and future," as common usage incorrectly does. Look, I do not object, contradict, or criticize, as long as what is said is understood to mean that neither the future nor the past exists now. For there are few things we speak of precisely, and many things we speak of imprecisely, yet what we wish to communicate is still understood.

26. But what now is manifest and clear is, that neither are there future nor past things. Nor is it fitly said, There are three times, past, present and future; but perchance it might be fitly said, There are three times; a present of things past, a present of things present, and a present of things future. For these three do somehow exist in the soul, and otherwise I see them not: present of things past, memory; present of things present, sight; present of things future, expectation. If of these things we are permitted to speak, I see three times, and I grant there are three. It may also be said, There are three times, past, present and future, as usage falsely has it. See, I trouble not, nor gainsay, nor reprove; provided always that which is said may be understood, that neither the future, nor that which is past, now is. For there are but few things which we speak properly, many things improperly; but what we may wish to say is understood.

I have just said, then, that we measure times as they pass, so that we can say this time is twice as long as that one, or this equals that, and so on for any parts of time we can measure. Therefore, as I said, we measure times as they pass. And if someone should ask me, "How do you know?" I can answer: I know because we measure, and we cannot measure things that do not exist; and things past and future do not exist. But how do we measure present time, since it has no extension? It is measured while it passes, but when it has passed, it is not measured, for there will be nothing left to measure. But from where, by what path, and to where does it pass while it is being measured? From where, except from the future? By what path, except through the present? To where, except into the past? Therefore, from that which does not yet exist, through that which has no extension, into that which no longer exists. But what do we measure, if not time in some extension? For we do not speak of single, double, triple, equal, or any other way we speak of time, except in relation to spans of time. In what extension, then, do we measure passing time? Is it in the future, from which it passes? But we do not measure what does not yet exist. Or is it in the present, through which it passes? But we do not measure what has no extension. Or in the past, to which it passes? But we do not measure what no longer exists.

27. I have just now said, then, that we measure times as they pass, that we may be able to say that this time is twice as much as that one, or that this is only as much as that, and so of any other of the parts of time which we are able to tell by measuring. Wherefore, as I said, we measure times as they pass. And if any one should ask me, Whence do you know? I can answer, I know, because we measure; nor can we measure things that are not; and things past and future are not. But how do we measure present time, since it has not space? It is measured while it passes; but when it shall have passed, it is not measured; for there will not be anything that can be measured. But whence, in what way, and whither does it pass while it is being measured? Whence, but from the future? Which way, save through the present? Whither, but into the past? From that, therefore, which as yet is not, through that which has no space, into that which now is not. But what do we measure, unless time in some space? For we say not single, and double, and triple, and equal, or in any other way in which we speak of time, unless with respect to the spaces of times. In what space, then, do we measure passing time? Is it in the future, whence it passes over? But what yet we measure not, is not. Or is it in the present, by which it passes? But no space, we do not measure. Or in the past, whither it passes? But that which is not now, we measure not.

My soul longs to understand this deeply tangled mystery. Do not shut out, O Lord my God, good Father—through Christ I beg You—do not shut out these things, both familiar and hidden, from my desire, so that it might be prevented from grasping them. Instead, let them become clear through Your illuminating mercy, O Lord. From whom should I ask about these things? And to whom can I more profitably confess my ignorance than to You, to whom these studies of mine, so passionately directed toward Your Scriptures, are not a burden? Give me what I love, for I do love, and this love You have given me. Give, Father, who truly knows how to give good gifts to Your children. Give, since I have taken on the task of knowing, and difficulty lies before me until You open it up. Through Christ I beg You, in His name, Holy of Holies, let no one interrupt me. For I believed, and therefore I speak. This is my hope; for this I live, that I may contemplate the delights of the Lord. See, You have made my days grow old, and they pass away, and I do not know how. And we speak about time and time, times and times—How long is the time since he said this? How long the time since he did this? and, How long the time since I saw that? and, This syllable takes twice the time of that single short syllable. These words we speak, and these we hear, and we are understood, and we understand. They are most obvious and most common, and yet the same things lie hidden too deeply, and their discovery is new.

28. My soul yearns to know this most entangled enigma. Forbear to shut up, O Lord my God, good Father — through Christ I beseech You — forbear to shut up these things, both usual and hidden, from my desire, that it may be hindered from penetrating them; but let them dawn through Your enlightening mercy, O Lord. Of whom shall I inquire concerning these things? And to whom shall I with more advantage confess my ignorance than to You, to whom these my studies, so vehemently kindled towards Your Scriptures, are not troublesome? Give that which I love; for I do love, and this have You given me. Give, Father, who truly know to give good gifts unto Your children. Matthew 7:11 Give, since I have undertaken to know, and trouble is before me until Thou dost open it. Through Christ, I beseech You, in His name, Holy of Holies, let no man interrupt me. For I believed, and therefore do I speak. This is my hope; for this do I live, that I may contemplate the delights of the Lord. Behold, You have made my days old, and they pass away, and in what manner I know not. And we speak as to time and time, times and times — How long is the time since he said this? How long the time since he did this? and, How long the time since I saw that? and, This syllable has double the time of that single short syllable. These words we speak, and these we hear; and we are understood, and we understand. They are most manifest and most usual, and the same things again lie hidden too deeply, and the discovery of them is new.

I have heard from a learned man that the movements of the sun, moon, and stars make up time, and I did not agree. For why shouldn't the movements of all bodies be time instead? What if the lights of heaven stopped, and a potter's wheel kept turning—wouldn't there still be time by which we could measure those rotations and say either that it turned at equal intervals, or if it moved more slowly at one moment and more quickly at another, that some rotations were longer and others shorter? And while we were saying this, wouldn't we also be speaking in time? Or wouldn't some syllables in our words be long and others short, precisely because some took a longer time to sound and others a shorter time? May God grant people the ability to see in small things the principles common to both great and small things. Both the stars and lights of heaven are for signs and for seasons, and for days and years. No doubt they are; but I would not say that the circuit of that wooden wheel was a day, nor should he say that therefore there was no time.

29. I have heard from a learned man that the motions of the sun, moon, and stars constituted time, and I assented not. For why should not rather the motions of all bodies be time? What if the lights of heaven should cease, and a potter's wheel run round, would there be no time by which we might measure those revolutions, and say either that it turned with equal pauses, or, if it were moved at one time more slowly, at another more quickly, that some revolutions were longer, others less so? Or while we were saying this, should we not also be speaking in time? Or should there in our words be some syllables long, others short, but because those sounded in a longer time, these in a shorter? God grant to men to see in a small thing ideas common to things great and small. Both the stars and luminaries of heaven are for signs and for seasons, and for days and years. Genesis 1:14 No doubt they are; but neither should I say that the circuit of that wooden wheel was a day, nor yet should he say that therefore there was no time.

I want to know the power and nature of time, by which we measure the movements of bodies and say (for example) that this movement is twice as long as that. For I ask: since "day" declares not only the sun's stay upon the earth (according to which day is one thing and night another), but also its entire circuit from east back to east—according to which we say "so many days have passed" (including the nights when we say "so many days," not counting their periods separately)—since, then, the day is completed by the sun's movement and by its circuit from east to east, I ask whether the movement itself is the day, or the period in which that movement is completed, or both? For if the first is the day, then there would be a day even if the sun finished that course in as little time as an hour. If the second, then it would not be a day if from one sunrise to another there were only a short period like an hour, but the sun would have to go around twenty-four times to complete a day. If both, then neither could that be called a day if the sun ran its entire round in the space of an hour, nor that, if the sun stood still while as much time passed as the sun usually takes to accomplish its whole course from morning to morning. I will not therefore now ask what that thing is which is called day, but what time is, by which we, measuring the sun's circuit, would say it was accomplished in half the usual time if it were completed in as little as twelve hours. Comparing both times, we would call one single and the other double time, even though the sun ran its course from east to east sometimes in that single time, sometimes in that double time. Let no one tell me that the movements of the heavenly bodies are times, because when at one man's prayer the sun stood still so that he might achieve his victorious battle, the sun stood still, but time went on. For that battle was fought and ended in whatever space of time was sufficient. I see that time, then, is a certain extension. But do I really see it, or do I only seem to see it? You, O Light and Truth, will show me.

30. I desire to know the power and nature of time, by which we measure the motions of bodies, and say (for example) that this motion is twice as long as that. For, I ask, since day declares not the stay only of the sun upon the earth, according to which day is one thing, night another, but also its entire circuit from east even to east — according to which we say, So many days have passed (the nights being included when we say so many days, and their spaces not counted apart) — since, then, the day is finished by the motion of the sun, and by his circuit from east to east, I ask, whether the motion itself is the day, or the period in which that motion is completed, or both? For if the first be the day, then would there be a day although the sun should finish that course in so small a space of time as an hour. If the second, then that would not be a day if from one sunrise to another there were but so short a period as an hour, but the sun must go round four-and-twenty times to complete a day. If both, neither could that be called a day if the sun should run his entire round in the space of an hour; nor that, if, while the sun stood still, so much time should pass as the sun is accustomed to accomplish his whole course in from morning to morning. I shall not therefore now ask, what that is which is called day, but what time is, by which we, measuring the circuit of the sun, should say that it was accomplished in half the space of time it was wont, if it had been completed in so small a space as twelve hours; and comparing both times, we should call that single, this double time, although the sun should run his course from east to east sometimes in that single, sometimes in that double time. Let no man then tell me that the motions of the heavenly bodies are times, because, when at the prayer of one the sun stood still in order that he might achieve his victorious battle, the sun stood still, but time went on. For in such space of time as was sufficient was that battle fought and ended. Joshua 10:12-14 I see that time, then, is a certain extension. But do I see it, or do I seem to see it? Thou, O Light and Truth, will show me.

Do you command that I should agree if someone says that time is the motion of a body? You do not command me. For I hear that no body can be moved except in time. This You say; but that the very motion of a body is time itself, I do not hear; You do not say that. For when a body is moved, I use time to measure how long it moves from when it began to move until it stopped. And if I did not see where it began, and it continues moving so that I do not see when it stops, I cannot measure it unless I measure from the time I began watching until I stopped watching. But if I watch for a long time, I can only say that the time is long, but not how long it is, because when we say "how long," we speak by comparison, such as "This is as long as that," or "This is twice as long as that," or anything similar. But if we could mark the distances of the places from which and to which the moving body travels, or its parts if it moved like a wheel, we could say in how much time the motion of the body or its part from this place to that place was completed. Therefore, since the motion of a body is one thing, and that by which we measure how long it is is another thing, who cannot see which of these should rather be called time? For even though a body sometimes moves and sometimes stands still, we measure not only its motion but also its standing still by time; and we say, "It stood still as much as it moved," or "It stood still twice or three times as long as it moved," and any other measure that our measuring has either determined or imagined, more or less, as we customarily say. Time, therefore, is not the motion of a body.

31. Do you command that I should assent, if any one should say that time is the motion of a body? Thou dost not command me. For I hear that no body is moved but in time. This You say; but that the very motion of a body is time, I hear not; You say it not. For when a body is moved, I by time measure how long it may be moving from the time in which it began to be moved till it left off. And if I saw not whence it began, and it continued to be moved, so that I see not when it leaves off, I cannot measure unless, perchance, from the time I began until I cease to see. But if I look long, I only proclaim that the time is long, but not how long it may be because when we say, How long, we speak by comparison, as, This is as long as that, or, This is double as long as that, or any other thing of the kind. But if we were able to note down the distances of places whence and whither comes the body which is moved, or its parts, if it moved as in a wheel, we can say in how much time the motion of the body or its part, from this place unto that, was performed. Since, then, the motion of a body is one thing, that by which we measure how long it is another, who cannot see which of these is rather to be called time? For, although a body be sometimes moved, sometimes stand still, we measure not its motion only, but also its standing still, by time; and we say, It stood still as much as it moved; or, It stood still twice or thrice as long as it moved; and if any other space which our measuring has either determined or imagined, more or less, as we are accustomed to say. Time, therefore, is not the motion of a body.

I confess to You, Lord, that I still do not know what time is, and again I confess to You, Lord, that I know I am speaking these things in time, and that I have already been speaking about time for a long while, and that "a long while" is only long because of the passage of time. How then do I know this, when I do not know what time is? Or is it perhaps that I do not know how to express what I know? How terrible for me, that I do not even know the extent of my own ignorance! Look, my God, I do not lie before You. As I speak, so is my heart. You will light my lamp; You, Lord my God, will enlighten my darkness.

32. And I confess unto You, O Lord, that I am as yet ignorant as to what time is, and again I confess unto You, O Lord, that I know that I speak these things in time, and that I have already long spoken of time, and that very long is not long save by the stay of time. How, then, know I this, when I know not what time is? Or is it, perchance, that I know not in what wise I may express what I know? Alas for me, that I do not at least know the extent of my own ignorance! Behold, O my God, before You I lie not. As I speak, so is my heart. You shall light my candle; Thou, O Lord my God, will enlighten my darkness.

Does my soul not truly pour out to You in confession that I do measure times? But do I measure this way, O my God, and not know what I measure? I measure the motion of a body by time; and do I not also measure time itself? But truly, could I measure the motion of a body—how long it is and how long it takes to move from this place to that—unless I measured the time in which it moves? How, then, do I measure this very time itself? Or do we measure a longer time by a shorter one, just as we measure the span of a crossbeam by the space of a cubit? For indeed, we seem to measure the length of a long syllable by the length of a short syllable, and to say that it is double. In this way we measure the lengths of stanzas by the lengths of verses, and the lengths of verses by the lengths of feet, and the lengths of feet by the lengths of syllables, and the lengths of long syllables by the lengths of short syllables. We are not measuring by pages, for in that way we measure spaces, not times, but when we speak the words and they pass by, we say: It is a long stanza because it is made up of so many verses; long verses because they consist of so many feet; long feet because they extend through so many syllables; a long syllable because it is double a short one. But even this way does not give us any certain measure of time, since it is possible that a shorter verse, if spoken more slowly, may take up more time than a longer one spoken more quickly. The same applies to a stanza, to a foot, to a syllable. Therefore it appeared to me that time is nothing other than protraction, but of what, I do not know. It is wonderful to me if it is not of the mind itself. For what do I measure, I beseech You, O my God, even when I say either indefinitely, This time is longer than that, or even definitely, This is double that? I know that I measure time. But I do not measure the future, for it does not yet exist; nor do I measure the present, because it has no extension in space; nor do I measure the past, because it no longer exists. What, then, do I measure? Is it times passing, not past? For this is what I had said.

33. Does not my soul pour out unto You truly in confession that I do measure times? But do I thus measure, O my God, and know not what I measure? I measure the motion of a body by time; and the time itself do I not measure? But, in truth, could I measure the motion of a body, how long it is, and how long it is in coming from this place to that, unless I should measure the time in which it is moved? How, therefore, do I measure this very time itself? Or do we by a shorter time measure a longer, as by the space of a cubit the space of a crossbeam? For thus, indeed, we seem by the space of a short syllable to measure the space of a long syllable, and to say that this is double. Thus we measure the spaces of stanzas by the spaces of the verses, and the spaces of the verses by the spaces of the feet, and the spaces of the feet by the spaces of the syllables, and the spaces of long by the spaces of short syllables; not measuring by pages (for in that manner we measure spaces, not times), but when in uttering the words they pass by, and we say, It is a long stanza because it is made up of so many verses; long verses, because they consist of so many feet; long feet, because they are prolonged by so many syllables; a long syllable, because double a short one. But neither thus is any certain measure of time obtained; since it is possible that a shorter verse, if it be pronounced more fully, may take up more time than a longer one, if pronounced more hurriedly. Thus for a stanzas, thus for a foot, thus for a syllable. Whence it appeared to me that time is nothing else than protraction; but of what I know not. It is wonderful to me, if it be not of the mind itself. For what do I measure, I beseech You, O my God, even when I say either indefinitely, This time is longer than that; or even definitely, This is double that? That I measure time, I know. But I measure not the future, for it is not yet; nor do I measure the present, because it is extended by no space; nor do I measure the past, because it no longer is. What, therefore, do I measure? Is it times passing, not past? For thus had I said.

Keep going, my mind, and pay close attention. God is our helper; He made us, and we did not make ourselves. Pay attention to where truth begins to shine. Look, suppose the voice of a body begins to sound, and does sound, and keeps sounding, and then—it stops. Now there is silence, and that voice is past and is no longer a voice. Before it sounded, it was future and could not be measured because it did not yet exist. And now it cannot be measured because it no longer exists. Therefore, while it was sounding, it could be measured, because then there was something that could be measured. But even then it did not stand still, for it was moving and passing away. Could it then be measured better for that reason? For while passing, it was being stretched out into some span of time in which it could be measured, since the present has no extension. If, therefore, it could then be measured, look—suppose another voice has begun to sound and still sounds in a continuous tone without any interruption. We can measure it while it is sounding, for when it stops sounding, it will already be past, and there will be nothing that can be measured. Let us measure it accurately and say how long it is. But it is still sounding and cannot be measured except from the moment when it began to sound up to the end when it stopped. For we measure the interval itself from some beginning to some end. For this reason, a voice that has not yet ended cannot be measured so that we can say how long or short it is, nor can it be said to be equal to another voice, or half or double in relation to it, or anything like that. But when it has ended, it no longer exists. How, then, can it be measured? And yet we do measure times—but not those that do not yet exist, nor those that no longer exist, nor those that are stretched out by some delay, nor those that have no boundaries. We therefore measure neither future times, nor past times, nor present times, nor times that are passing by; and yet we do measure times.

34. Persevere, O my mind, and give earnest heed. God is our helper; He made us, and not we ourselves. Give heed, where truth dawns. Lo, suppose the voice of a body begins to sound, and does sound, and sounds on, and lo! It ceases — it is now silence, and that voice is past and is no longer a voice. It was future before it sounded, and could not be measured, because as yet it was not; and now it cannot, because it no longer is. Then, therefore, while it was sounding, it might, because there was then that which might be measured. But even then it did not stand still, for it was going and passing away. Could it, then, on that account be measured the more? For, while passing, it was being extended into some space of time, in which it might be measured, since the present has no space. If, therefore, then it might be measured, lo! suppose another voice has begun to sound, and still sounds, in a continued tenor without any interruption, we can measure it while it is sounding; for when it shall have ceased to sound, it will be already past, and there will not be that which can be measured. Let us measure it truly, and let us say how much it is. But as yet it sounds, nor can it be measured, save from that instant in which it began to sound, even to the end in which it left off. For the interval itself we measure from some beginning unto some end. On which account, a voice which is not yet ended cannot be measured, so that it may be said how long or how short it may be; nor can it be said to be equal to another, or single or double in respect of it, or the like. But when it is ended, it no longer is. In what manner, therefore, may it be measured? And yet we measure times; still not those which as yet are not, nor those which no longer are, nor those which are protracted by some delay, nor those which have no limits. We, therefore, measure neither future times, nor past, nor present, nor those passing by; and yet we do measure times.

Deus Creator omnium; this verse of eight syllables alternates between short and long syllables. The four short syllables—the first, third, fifth, and seventh—are single in relation to the four long syllables—the second, fourth, sixth, and eighth. Each of the long syllables takes twice as much time as each of the short ones. I recite them and report on them, and this is how it is, as common sense perceives it. So by common sense I measure a long syllable by a short syllable, and I find that it contains twice as much time. But when one sounds after another—if the first is short and the second is long—how can I hold onto the short one, and how can I apply it as a measure to the long one so that I can discover it has twice as much time, when the long one doesn't even begin to sound until the short one stops sounding? I can't measure that long syllable while it's present, since I only measure it when it has ended. But its ending is its passing away. What is it, then, that I can measure? Where is the short syllable by which I measure? Where is the long syllable that I measure? Both have sounded, have flown away, have passed on, and no longer exist; and yet I still measure, and I confidently answer (insofar as a trained sense can be trusted) that in terms of duration this syllable is single, that one double. I couldn't do this unless they had passed and ended. Therefore I'm not measuring the syllables themselves, which no longer exist, but something in my memory that remains fixed.

35. Deus Creator omnium; this verse of eight syllables alternates between short and long syllables. The four short, then, the first, third, fifth and seventh, are single in respect of the four long, the second, fourth, sixth, and eighth. Each of these has a double time to every one of those. I pronounce them, report on them, and thus it is, as is perceived by common sense. By common sense, then, I measure a long by a short syllable, and I find that it has twice as much. But when one sounds after another, if the former be short the latter long, how shall I hold the short one, and how measuring shall I apply it to the long, so that I may find out that this has twice as much, when indeed the long does not begin to sound unless the short leaves off sounding? That very long one I measure not as present, since I measure it not save when ended. But its ending is its passing away. What, then, is it that I can measure? Where is the short syllable by which I measure? Where is the long one which I measure? Both have sounded, have flown, have passed away, and are no longer; and still I measure, and I confidently answer (so far as is trusted to a practised sense), that as to space of time this syllable is single, that double. Nor could I do this, unless because they have past, and are ended. Therefore do I not measure themselves, which now are not, but something in my memory, which remains fixed.

In you, O my mind, I measure times. Do not overwhelm me with your noise. That is, do not overwhelm yourself with the multitude of your impressions. In you, I say, I measure times. I measure the impression that things make on you as they pass by, which remains after they have passed. I measure this as present time, not the things themselves that have passed by and made the impression. This is what I measure when I measure times. Either these impressions are times, or I do not measure times. What about when we measure silence and say that this silence has lasted as long as that sound lasted? Do we not stretch our thought to the measure of a sound, as if it were sounding, so that we can say something about the intervals of silence in a given space of time? For when both voice and tongue are still, we go over in thought poems and verses, and any speech, or dimensions of movements, and we declare concerning the spaces of times, how much this is in relation to that, no differently than if we were speaking them aloud. Should anyone wish to utter a prolonged sound, and had determined beforehand how long it should be, that person has in silence truly gone through a space of time, and, committing it to memory, begins to utter that speech, which sounds until it extends to the intended end. Truly it has sounded and will sound. For what of it is already finished has truly sounded, but what remains will sound. And thus it passes on, until the present intention carries over the future into the past, the past increasing by the diminishing of the future, until, by the consumption of the future, all is past.

36. In you, O my mind, I measure times. Do not overwhelm me with your clamour. That is, do not overwhelm yourself with the multitude of your impressions. In you, I say, I measure times; the impression which things as they pass by make on you, and which, when they have passed by, remains, that I measure as time present, not those things which have passed by, that the impression should be made. This I measure when I measure times. Either, then, these are times, or I do not measure times. What when we measure silence, and say that this silence has lasted as long as that voice lasts? Do we not extend our thought to the measure of a voice, as if it sounded, so that we may be able to declare something concerning the intervals of silence in a given space of time? For when both the voice and tongue are still, we go over in thought poems and verses, and any discourse, or dimensions of motions; and declare concerning the spaces of times, how much this may be in respect of that, not otherwise than if uttering them we should pronounce them. Should any one wish to utter a lengthened sound, and had with forethought determined how long it should be, that man has in silence verily gone through a space of time, and, committing it to memory, he begins to utter that speech, which sounds until it be extended to the end proposed; truly it has sounded, and will sound. For what of it is already finished has verily sounded, but what remains will sound; and thus does it pass on, until the present intention carry over the future into the past; the past increasing by the diminution of the future, until, by the consumption of the future, all be past.

But how is the future diminished or consumed when it does not yet exist? Or how does the past, which no longer exists, increase, unless three things happen in the mind that performs these actions? For the mind expects, considers, and remembers, so that what it expects may pass through what it considers into what it remembers. Who then denies that future things do not yet exist? Yet the expectation of future things already exists in the mind. And who denies that past things no longer exist? Yet the memory of past things still exists in the mind. And who denies that the present moment lacks extension because it passes away in an instant? Yet our consideration continues, allowing what is present to proceed toward becoming absent. Future time, which does not exist, is not therefore long; rather, a long future is a long expectation of the future. Nor is past time, which no longer exists, long; rather, a long past is a long memory of the past.

37. But how is that future diminished or consumed which as yet is not? Or how does the past, which is no longer, increase, unless in the mind which enacts this there are three things done? For it both expects, and considers, and remembers, that that which it expects, through that which it considers, may pass into that which it remembers. Who, therefore, denies that future things as yet are not? But yet there is already in the mind the expectation of things future. And who denies that past things are now no longer? But, however, there is still in the mind the memory of things past. And who denies that time present wants space, because it passes away in a moment? But yet our consideration endures, through which that which may be present may proceed to become absent. Future time, which is not, is not therefore long; but a long future is a long expectation of the future. Nor is time past, which is now no longer, long; but a long past is a long memory of the past.

I am about to recite a psalm that I know. Before I begin, my attention extends to the whole psalm. But once I have started, however much of it becomes past as I recite it is extended in my memory, and the life of this action of mine is divided between my memory, because of what I have recited, and my expectation, because of what I am about to recite. Yet my consideration is present with me, through which what was future may be carried over so that it may become past. The more this is done and repeated, the more my memory is enlarged as expectation is shortened, until the whole expectation is exhausted, when that entire action, having ended, will have passed into memory. And what takes place in the entire psalm also takes place in each individual part of it and in each individual syllable. This holds in the longer action of which that psalm is perhaps a portion. The same holds in the whole life of a man, of which all the actions of a man are parts. The same holds in the whole age of the sons of men, of which all the lives of men are parts.

38. I am about to repeat a psalm that I know. Before I begin, my attention is extended to the whole; but when I have begun, as much of it as becomes past by my saying it is extended in my memory; and the life of this action of mine is divided between my memory, on account of what I have repeated, and my expectation, on account of what I am about to repeat; yet my consideration is present with me, through which that which was future may be carried over so that it may become past. Which the more it is done and repeated, by so much (expectation being shortened) the memory is enlarged, until the whole expectation be exhausted, when that whole action being ended shall have passed into memory. And what takes place in the entire psalm, takes place also in each individual part of it, and in each individual syllable: this holds in the longer action, of which that psalm is perchance a portion; the same holds in the whole life of man, of which all the actions of man are parts; the same holds in the whole age of the sons of men, of which all the lives of men are parts.

But because Your loving-kindness is better than life, look—my life is nothing but a distraction, and Your right hand has upheld me in my Lord, the Son of man, the Mediator between You, the One, and us the many—in many distractions amid many things—so that through Him I may apprehend the one in whom I have been apprehended, and may be gathered back from my old days, following the One, forgetting the things that are past. Not distracted, but drawn on—not to those things which will be and will pass away, but to those things which are ahead—not distractedly, but intently, I press on for the prize of my heavenly calling, where I may hear the voice of Your praise and contemplate Your delights, neither coming nor passing away. But now my years are spent in mourning. And You, O Lord, are my comfort, my Father everlasting. But I have been divided among times, whose order I do not know, and my thoughts, even the inmost depths of my soul, are torn apart by tumultuous varieties, until I flow together into You, purged and melted in the fire of Your love.

39. But because Your loving-kindness is better than life, behold, my life is but a distraction, and Your right hand upheld me in my Lord, the Son of man, the Mediator between You, 1 Timothy 2:5 The One, and us the many — in many distractions amid many things — that through Him I may apprehend in whom I have been apprehended, and may be recollected from my old days, following The One, forgetting the things that are past; and not distracted, but drawn on, not to those things which shall be and shall pass away, but to those things which are before, Philippians 3:13 not distractedly, but intently, I follow on for the prize of my heavenly calling, where I may hear the voice of Your praise, and contemplate Your delights, neither coming nor passing away. But now are my years spent in mourning. And You, O Lord, art my comfort, my Father everlasting. But I have been divided amid times, the order of which I know not; and my thoughts, even the inmost bowels of my soul, are mangled with tumultuous varieties, until I flow together unto You, purged and molten in the fire of Your love.

And I will be unmovable and fixed in You, in my mold, Your truth; nor will I put up with the questions of men who, through a disease that brings punishment, thirst for more than they can contain, and say, "What did God make before He made heaven and earth?" Or, "How did it come into His mind to make anything, when He had never made anything before?" Grant them, O Lord, to think carefully about what they say, and to see that where there is no time, they cannot say "never." What, therefore, He is said never to have made—what else does this mean but to say that it was made at no time? Let them therefore see that there could be no time without a created being, and let them stop speaking this foolishness. Let them also reach forward to those things which are ahead, and understand that You, the eternal Creator of all times, exist before all times, and that no times are co-eternal with You, nor is any creature co-eternal with You, even if there is any creature beyond all times.

40. And I will be immoveable, and fixed in You, in my mould, Your truth; nor will I endure the questions of men, who by a penal disease thirst for more than they can hold, and say, What did God make before He made heaven and earth? Or, How came it into His mind to make anything, when He never before made anything? Grant to them, O Lord, to think well what they say, and to see that where there is no time, they cannot say never. What, therefore, He is said never to have made, what else is it but to say, that in no time was it made? Let them therefore see that there could be no time without a created being, and let them cease to speak that vanity. Let them also be extended unto those things which are before, Philippians 3:13 and understand that you, the eternal Creator of all times, art before all times, and that no times are co-eternal with You, nor any creature, even if there be any creature beyond all times.

O Lord my God, what is that secret place of Your mystery, and how far have the consequences of my sins cast me from it? Heal my eyes so that I may enjoy Your light. Certainly, if there were a mind so abundantly filled with knowledge and foreknowledge that all things past and future were as well known to it as one psalm is well known to me, that mind would be exceedingly wonderful and truly astonishing; because whatever has passed and whatever is yet to come in future ages would be no more hidden from it than it was hidden from me when singing that psalm—knowing what and how much of it had been sung from the beginning, and what and how much remained until the end. But far be it that You, the Creator of the universe, the Creator of souls and bodies—far be it that You should merely know all things future and past in this way. Far, far more wonderfully, and far more mysteriously, You know them. For it is not as with someone singing familiar words or hearing a familiar song, whose feelings are varied through expectation of future words and remembrance of past ones, and whose senses are divided—nothing like this happens to You, unchangeably eternal, that is, the truly eternal Creator of minds. Just as You in the Beginning knew the heaven and the earth without any change in Your knowledge, so in the Beginning You made heaven and earth without any division in Your action. Let whoever understands confess to You; and let whoever does not understand also confess to You. Oh, how exalted You are, and yet the humble in heart are Your dwelling-place; for You raise up those who are bowed down, and those whose exaltation You are do not fall.

41. O Lord my God, what is that secret place of Your mystery, and how far thence have the consequences of my transgressions cast me? Heal my eyes, that I may enjoy Your light. Surely, if there be a mind, so greatly abounding in knowledge and foreknowledge, to which all things past and future are so known as one psalm is well known to me, that mind is exceedingly wonderful, and very astonishing; because whatever is so past, and whatever is to come of after ages, is no more concealed from Him than was it hidden from me when singing that psalm, what and how much of it had been sung from the beginning, what and how much remained unto the end. But far be it that Thou, the Creator of the universe, the Creator of souls and bodies — far be it that You should know all things future and past. Far, far more wonderfully, and far more mysteriously, You know them. For it is not as the feelings of one singing known things, or hearing a known song, are — through expectation of future words, and in remembrance of those that are past — varied, and his senses divided, that anything happens unto You, unchangeably eternal, that is, the truly eternal Creator of minds. As, then, Thou in the Beginning knew the heaven and the earth without any change of Your knowledge, so in the Beginning Thou made heaven and earth without any distraction of Your action. Let him who understands confess unto You; and let him who understands not, confess unto You. Oh, how exalted are You, and yet the humble in heart are Your dwelling-place; for Thou raisest up those that are bowed down, and they whose exaltation You are fall not.

Let me know You, O You who know me; let me know You, as I am known. O You strength of my soul, enter into it and prepare it for Yourself, that You may have and hold it without spot or wrinkle. This is my hope, and therefore I have spoken; and in this hope I rejoice, when I rejoice with sobriety. The other things of this life should be mourned less when people mourn them more, and should be mourned more when people mourn them less. For look, You desire truth, since whoever does it comes to the light. I want to do this through confession in my heart before You, and in my writing before many witnesses.

1. Let me know You, O Thou who know me; let me know You, as I am known. 1 Corinthians 13:12 O Thou strength of my soul, enter into it, and prepare it for Yourself, that You may have and hold it without spot or wrinkle. Ephesians 5:27 This is my hope, therefore have I spoken; and in this hope do I rejoice, when I rejoice soberly. Other things of this life ought the less to be sorrowed for, the more they are sorrowed for; and ought the more to be sorrowed for, the less men do sorrow for them. For behold, You desire truth, seeing that he who does it comes to the light. John 3:20 This wish I to do in confession in my heart before You, and in my writing before many witnesses.

And from You, O Lord, to whose eyes the depths of a person's conscience lie bare, what could be hidden in me even if I refused to confess to You? In doing so, I would only hide You from myself, not myself from You. But now, because my groaning testifies that I am dissatisfied with myself, You shine forth, and satisfy, and are beloved and desired, so that I may feel shame for myself, and renounce myself, and choose You, and may please neither You nor myself except in You. To You, then, O Lord, I am revealed, whatever I am, and I have already spoken about the benefit I gain from confessing to You. I do not make this confession with the words and sounds of the flesh, but with the words of the soul and that cry of reflection which Your ear knows. For when I am wicked, confessing to You is nothing other than being dissatisfied with myself. But when I am truly devout, it is nothing other than not attributing it to myself, because You, O Lord, bless the righteous, but first You justify the ungodly. My confession, therefore, O my God, is made to You in Your sight silently, and yet not silently. For in outward noise it is silent, but in deep feeling it cries aloud. I do not speak anything right to other people that You have not already heard from me beforehand, nor do You hear anything of this kind from me that You Yourself did not first say to me.

2. And from You, O Lord, unto whose eyes the depths of man's conscience are naked, Hebrews 4:13 what in me could be hidden though I were unwilling to confess to You? For so should I hide You from myself, not myself from You. But now, because my groaning witnesses that I am dissatisfied with myself, Thou shinest forth, and satisfiest, and art beloved and desired; that I may blush for myself, and renounce myself, and choose You, and may neither please You nor myself, except in You. To You, then, O Lord, am I manifest, whatever I am, and with what fruit I may confess unto You I have spoken. Nor do I it with words and sounds of the flesh, but with the words of the soul, and that cry of reflection which Your ear knows. For when I am wicked, to confess to You is naught but to be dissatisfied with myself; but when I am truly devout, it is naught but not to attribute it to myself, because Thou, O Lord, bless the righteous; but first Thou justify him ungodly. Romans 4:5 My confession, therefore, O my God, in Your sight, is made unto You silently, and yet not silently. For in noise it is silent, in affection it cries aloud. For neither do I give utterance to anything that is right unto men which You have not heard from me before, nor do You hear anything of the kind from me which Yourself said not first unto me.

What business is it of others to hear my confessions, as though they could heal all my sicknesses? People are curious to know about other people's lives but slow to fix their own problems. Why do they want to hear from me what I am, when they refuse to hear from You what they are? And when they hear me talk about myself, how can they know whether I'm telling the truth, since no one knows what is inside a person except that person's own spirit which is in him? But if they hear from You anything about themselves, they won't be able to say, "The Lord is lying." For what does it mean to hear from You about themselves, if not to know themselves? And who really knows himself and then says, "That's false," unless he himself is lying? But since charity believes all things (at least among those whom it joins together into one through union with itself), I too, O Lord, confess to You in a way that others may hear, even though I cannot prove to them that I'm confessing the truth. Yet those whose ears charity opens to me do believe me.

3. What then have I to do with men, that they should hear my confessions, as if they were going to cure all my diseases? A people curious to know the lives of others, but slow to correct their own. Why do they desire to hear from me what I am, who are unwilling to hear from You what they are? And how can they tell, when they hear from me of myself, whether I speak the truth, seeing that no man knows what is in man, save the spirit of man which is in him? 1 Corinthians 2:11 But if they hear from You anything concerning themselves, they will not be able to say, The Lord lies. For what is it to hear from You of themselves, but to know themselves? And who is he that knows himself and says, It is false, unless he himself lies? But because charity believes all things 1 Corinthians 13:7 (among those at all events whom by union with itself it makes one), I too, O Lord, also so confess unto You that men may hear, to whom I cannot prove whether I confess the truth, yet do they believe me whose ears charity opens unto me.

But You, my most secret Physician, make clear to me what benefit I may gain by doing this. When the confessions of my past sins—which You have forgiven and covered so that You might make me happy in You, transforming my soul through faith and Your sacrament—are read and heard, they stir up the heart so that it does not sleep in despair and say, "I cannot." Instead, the heart awakens in the love of Your mercy and the sweetness of Your grace, by which the weak person is made strong, if through it he becomes aware of his own weakness. As for good people, they take delight in hearing about the past errors of those who are now freed from them. They delight not because these are errors, but because they once existed and no longer do. So what benefit, then, O Lord my God—to whom my conscience makes her daily confession, more confident in the hope of Your mercy than in her own innocence—what benefit, I ask You, do I gain by confessing even to other people in Your presence through this book what I am now, not what I have been? I have already seen and spoken of that benefit. But what I am now, at this very moment of making my confessions, various people desire to know—both those who knew me and those who did not, who have heard about me or from me. But their ear cannot reach my heart, where I am whatever I am. So they desire to hear me confess what I am within, where they can stretch neither eye, nor ear, nor mind. They desire it as people willing to believe—but will they understand? For charity, by which they are good, tells them that I do not lie in my confessions, and she in them believes me.

4. But yet do Thou, my most secret Physician, make clear to me what fruit I may reap by doing it. For the confessions of my past sins — which You have forgiven and covered, that You might make me happy in You, changing my soul by faith and Your sacrament — when they are read and heard, stir up the heart, that it sleep not in despair and say, I cannot; but that it may awake in the love of Your mercy and the sweetness of Your grace, by which he that is weak is strong, 2 Corinthians 12:10 if by it he is made conscious of his own weakness. As for the good, they take delight in hearing of the past errors of such as are now freed from them; and they delight, not because they are errors, but because they have been and are so no longer. For what fruit, then, O Lord my God, to whom my conscience makes her daily confession, more confident in the hope of Your mercy than in her own innocency — for what fruit, I beseech You, do I confess even to men in Your presence by this book what I am at this time, not what I have been? For that fruit I have both seen and spoken of, but what I am at this time, at the very moment of making my confessions, various people desire to know, both who knew me and who knew me not — who have heard of or from me — but their ear is not at my heart, where I am whatsoever I am. They are desirous, then, of hearing me confess what I am within, where they can neither stretch eye, nor ear, nor mind; they desire it as those willing to believe — but will they understand? For charity, by which they are good, says unto them that I do not lie in my confessions, and she in them believes me.

But what benefit do they hope to gain from this? Do they want to rejoice with me when they learn how close I come to You through Your gift, and to pray for me when they learn how much my own burden holds me back? To such people I will reveal myself. For it is no small benefit, O Lord my God, that many people should give thanks to You on our behalf, and that many should pray to You for us. Let the brotherly soul love in me what You teach should be loved, and grieve over in me what You teach should be grieved over. Let a brotherly soul do this, not a foreign one—not the soul of strange children whose mouth speaks vanity and whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood—but that brotherly soul which, when it approves of me, rejoices for me, but when it disapproves of me, grieves for me, because whether it approves or disapproves, it loves me. To such people I will reveal myself. Let them rejoice at my good deeds and grieve over my evil ones. My good deeds are Your works and Your gifts; my evil ones are my failures and Your judgments. Let them rejoice at the one and grieve over the other, and let hymns and tears rise into Your sight from brotherly hearts—Your censers. And You, O Lord, who delight in the incense of Your holy temple, have mercy on me according to Your great mercy, for Your name's sake; and never abandoning what You have begun in me, complete what is incomplete in me.

5. But for what fruit do they desire this? Do they wish me happiness when they learn how near, by Your gift, I come unto You; and to pray for me, when they learn how much I am kept back by my own weight? To such will I declare myself. For it is no small fruit, O Lord my God, that by many thanks should be given to You on our behalf, 2 Corinthians 1:11 and that by many You should be entreated for us. Let the fraternal soul love that in me which Thou teachest should be loved, and lament that in me which Thou teachest should be lamented. Let a fraternal and not an alien soul do this, nor that of strange children, whose mouth speaks vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood, but that fraternal one which, when it approves me, rejoices for me, but when it disapproves me, is sorry for me; because whether it approves or disapproves it loves me. To such will I declare myself; let them breathe freely at my good deeds, and sigh over my evil ones. My good deeds are Your institutions and Your gifts, my evil ones are my delinquencies and Your judgments. Let them breathe freely at the one, and sigh over the other; and let hymns and tears ascend into Your sight out of the fraternal hearts — Your censers. Revelation 8:3 And do Thou, O Lord, who takest delight in the incense of Your holy temple, have mercy upon me according to Your great mercy, for Your name's sake; and on no account leaving what You have begun in me, do Thou complete what is imperfect in me.

This is the fruit of my confessions – not what I was, but what I am now – that I may confess this not only before You, in secret joy mixed with trembling and secret sorrow mixed with hope, but also in the hearing of believing men and women who are sons of God: those who share my joy and share my mortality, my fellow citizens and companions on pilgrimage, both those who have gone before me and those who will come after, and those who travel alongside me now. These are Your servants, my brothers and sisters, those whom You want to be Your sons; they are my teachers, whom You have commanded me to serve if I want to live with You and through You. But this word of Yours would mean little to me if it only commanded through speech without first going ahead through action. So I do this both in action and in word, and I do it under Your wings, though this would be too dangerous except that my soul is submitted to You under Your wings, and my weakness is known to You. I am small, but my Father lives forever, and my Defender is sufficient for me. For He is the same one who brought me into being and who protects me; and You Yourself are all my good – You, the Almighty, who are with me even before I am with You. So to those whom You command me to serve, I will declare not what I was, but what I am now and what I continue to be. But I do not judge myself. This is how I would be heard.

6. This is the fruit of my confessions, not of what I was, but of what I am, that I may confess this not before You only, in a secret exultation with trembling, and a secret sorrow with hope, but in the ears also of the believing sons of men — partakers of my joy, and sharers of my mortality, my fellow citizens and the companions of my pilgrimage, those who are gone before, and those that are to follow after, and the comrades of my way. These are Your servants, my brethren, those whom You wish to be Your sons; my masters, whom You have commanded me to serve, if I desire to live with and of You. But this Your word were little to me did it command in speaking, without going before in acting. This then do I both in deed and word, this I do under Your wings, in too great danger, were it not that my soul, under Your wings, is subject unto You, and my weakness known unto You. I am a little one, but my Father lives for ever, and my Defender is sufficient 2 Corinthians 12:9 for me. For He is the same who begot me and who defends me; and You Yourself art all my good; even Thou, the Omnipotent, who art with me, and that before I am with You. To such, therefore, whom You command me to serve will I declare, not what I was, but what I now am, and what I still am. But neither do I judge myself. 1 Corinthians 4:3 Thus then I would be heard.

For it is You, Lord, who judges me; for although no one knows the things of a person except the spirit of the person which is in him, yet there is something of a person which even the spirit of the person within him does not know. But You, Lord, who made him, know him completely. I indeed, though in Your sight I despise myself and consider myself nothing but dust and ashes, yet know something about You which I do not know about myself. And certainly now we see through a glass darkly, not yet face to face. So long, therefore, as I am absent from You, I am more present with myself than with You; and yet I know that You cannot suffer violence; but for myself I do not know what temptations I am able to resist and what I am not able to resist. But there is hope, because You are faithful, who will not allow us to be tempted beyond what we are able, but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, so that we may be able to bear it. I would therefore confess what I know about myself; I will confess also what I do not know about myself. And because what I do know about myself, I know by You enlightening me; and what I do not know about myself, I will not know until the time when my darkness becomes as the noonday in Your sight.

7. For it is Thou, Lord, that judgest me; 1 Corinthians 4:4 for although no man knows the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him, 1 Corinthians 2:11 yet is there something of man which the spirit of man which is in him itself knows not. But You, Lord, who hast made him, know him wholly. I indeed, though in Your sight I despise myself, and reckon myself but dust and ashes, Genesis 18:27 yet know something concerning You, which I know not concerning myself. And assuredly now we see through a glass darkly, not yet face to face. 1 Corinthians 13:12 So long, therefore, as I be absent from You, I am more present with myself than with You; 2 Corinthians 5:6 and yet know I that You can not suffer violence; but for myself I know not what temptations I am able to resist, and what I am not able. But there is hope, because You are faithful, who will not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able, but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that we may be able to bear it. 1 Corinthians 10:13 I would therefore confess what I know concerning myself; I will confess also what I know not concerning myself. And because what I do know of myself, I know by You enlightening me; and what I know not of myself, so long I know not until the time when my darkness be as the noonday Isaiah 58:10 in Your sight.

I love You, O Lord, not with uncertain awareness but with complete assurance. You have pierced my heart with Your word, and I loved You. Heaven and earth and everything in them—look, on every side they tell me I should love You, and they never stop speaking to everyone, so that people are without excuse. But more deeply, You will have mercy on whom You will have mercy, and compassion on whom You will have compassion; otherwise both heaven and earth proclaim Your praises to deaf ears. But what is it that I love when I love You? Not physical beauty, not the splendor of temporal things, not the brightness of light that delights our eyes, not the sweet melodies of all kinds of songs, not the fragrant smell of flowers, ointments, and spices, not manna and honey, not limbs that are pleasant to the embrace of flesh. I do not love these things when I love my God. And yet I do love a certain kind of light, and sound, and fragrance, and food, and embrace in loving my God, who is the light, sound, fragrance, food, and embrace of my inner man—where that light shines into my soul which no space can contain, where that sounds which time cannot snatch away, where there is a fragrance which no wind scatters, where there is a food which no eating can reduce, and where that clings which no fullness can separate. This is what I love when I love my God.

8. Not with uncertain, but with assured consciousness do I love You, O Lord. You have stricken my heart with Your word, and I loved You. And also the heaven, and earth, and all that is therein, behold, on every side they say that I should love You; nor do they cease to speak unto all, so that they are without excuse. Romans 1:20 But more profoundly will You have mercy on whom You will have mercy, and compassion on whom You will have compassion, Romans 9:15 otherwise do both heaven and earth tell forth Your praises to deaf ears. But what is it that I love in loving You? Not corporeal beauty, nor the splendour of time, nor the radiance of the light, so pleasant to our eyes, nor the sweet melodies of songs of all kinds, nor the fragrant smell of flowers, and ointments, and spices, not manna and honey, not limbs pleasant to the embracements of flesh. I love not these things when I love my God; and yet I love a certain kind of light, and sound, and fragrance, and food, and embracement in loving my God, who is the light, sound, fragrance, food, and embracement of my inner man — where that light shines unto my soul which no place can contain, where that sounds which time snatches not away, where there is a fragrance which no breeze disperses, where there is a food which no eating can diminish, and where that clings which no satiety can sunder. This is what I love, when I love my God.

And what is this? I asked the earth, and it answered, "I am not He," and everything in it made the same confession. I asked the sea and the depths, and the living creatures that crawl, and they replied, "We are not your God; look higher than us." I asked the moving air, and the whole atmosphere with everything in it answered, "Anaximenes was wrong; I am not God." I asked the heavens, the sun, moon, and stars: "We are not the God you are looking for," they said. And I responded to all these things that stand at the threshold of my flesh, "You have told me about my God, that you are not He; tell me something about Him." And they cried out in a loud voice, "He made us." My questioning was my observation of them, and their beauty was their answer. Then I turned my thoughts to myself and said, "Who are you?" And I answered, "A man." And look, in me there appear both body and soul, one outward, the other inward. By which of these should I seek my God, whom I had sought through the body from earth to heaven, as far as I was able to send messengers—the beams of my eyes? But the better part is the inner; for to it, as both president and judge, all these bodily messengers of mine delivered the answers of heaven and earth and all things in them, who said, "We are not God, but He made us." My inner man knew these things through the service of the outer; I, the inner man, knew all this—I, the soul, through the senses of my body. I asked the vast mass of the earth about my God, and it answered me, "I am not He, but He made me."

9. And what is this? I asked the earth; and it answered, I am not He; and whatsoever are therein made the same confession. I asked the sea and the deeps, and the creeping things that lived, and they replied, We are not your God, seek higher than we. I asked the breezy air, and the universal air with its inhabitants answered, Anaximenes was deceived, I am not God. I asked the heavens, the sun, moon, and stars: Neither, say they, are we the God whom you seek? And I answered unto all these things which stand about the door of my flesh, You have told me concerning my God, that you are not He; tell me something about Him. And with a loud voice they exclaimed, He made us. My questioning was my observing of them; and their beauty was their reply. And I directed my thoughts to myself, and said, Who are you? And I answered, A man. And lo, in me there appear both body and soul, the one without, the other within. By which of these should I seek my God, whom I had sought through the body from earth to heaven, as far as I was able to send messengers — the beams of my eyes? But the better part is that which is inner; for to it, as both president and judge, did all these my corporeal messengers render the answers of heaven and earth and all things therein, who said, We are not God, but He made us. These things was my inner man cognizant of by the ministry of the outer; I, the inner man, knew all this — I, the soul, through the senses of my body. I asked the vast bulk of the earth of my God, and it answered me, I am not He, but He made me.

Is this beauty not visible to everyone whose senses are working properly? Why then does it not say the same things to everyone? Animals, both small and large, see it, but they cannot question it because their senses are not equipped with reason to help them judge what their senses report to them. But human beings can question it, so that the invisible things of Him are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made; but by loving these things, they become enslaved to them, and those who are enslaved cannot judge. The creatures do not answer those who question them unless they can judge, nor will they change their voice (that is, their beauty) if one person only sees while another both sees and questions, so that they would appear one way to this person and another way to that person. Rather, appearing the same way to both, they are silent to one but speak to the other—yes, truly, they speak to everyone, but only those who compare that voice received from outside with the truth within can understand. For the truth says to me: Neither heaven, nor earth, nor any body is your God. Their nature declares this to the one who looks at them. They are a mass, and a mass is less in its parts than in its whole. Now, O my soul, you are my better part, and it is to you I speak, for you give life to the mass of your body, which no body can give to another body. But your God is even to you the Life of life.

10. Is not this beauty visible to all whose senses are unimpaired? Why then does it not speak the same things unto all? Animals, the very small and the great, see it, but they are unable to question it, because their senses are not endowed with reason to enable them to judge on what they report. But men can question it, so that the invisible things of Him… are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made; Romans 1:20 but by loving them, they are brought into subjection to them; and subjects are not able to judge. Neither do the creatures reply to such as question them, unless they can judge; nor will they alter their voice (that is, their beauty), if so be one man only sees, another both sees and questions, so as to appear one way to this man, and another to that; but appearing the same way to both, it is mute to this, it speaks to that — yea, verily, it speaks unto all but they only understand it who compare that voice received from without with the truth within. For the truth declares unto me, Neither heaven, nor earth, nor any body is your God. This, their nature declares unto him that beholds them. They are a mass; a mass is less in part than in the whole. Now, O my soul, you are my better part, unto you I speak; for you animate the mass of your body, giving it life, which no body furnishes to a body but your God is even unto you the Life of life.

What then is it that I love when I love my God? Who is He who is above the head of my soul? I will mount up to Him through my soul itself. I will rise beyond that power of mine by which I cling to the body and fill its whole structure with life. I do not find my God through that power, for then the horse and the mule, which lack understanding, might also find Him, since it is the same power by which their bodies live as well. But there is another power—not only the one by which I give life, but also the one by which I give sensation to my flesh, which the Lord has made for me. He commands the eye not to hear and the ear not to see, but makes one for me to see with and the other for me to hear with, and gives to each of the other senses its own proper place and function. Though these are different, I, the single mind, govern through them. I will also rise beyond this power of mine, for the horse and mule possess this too, since they also perceive through the body.

11. What then is it that I love when I love my God? Who is He that is above the head of my soul? By my soul itself will I mount up unto Him. I will soar beyond that power of mine whereby I cling to the body, and fill the whole structure of it with life. Not by that power do I find my God; for then the horse and the mule, which have no understanding, might find Him, since it is the same power by which their bodies also live. But there is another power, not that only by which I quicken, but that also by which I endow with sense my flesh, which the Lord has made for me; bidding the eye not to hear, and the ear not to see; but that, for me to see by, and this, for me to hear by; and to each of the other senses its own proper seat and office, which being different, I, the single mind, do through them govern. I will soar also beyond this power of mine; for this the horse and mule possess, for they too discern through the body.

I will therefore rise beyond this natural power of mine as well, climbing step by step toward the One who made me. And I come into the fields and spacious rooms of memory, where the treasures of countless images are stored, brought into it from every kind of thing through the senses. There is also stored up whatever we think about, whether by expanding or reducing, or by altering in any way those things the senses have reached; and indeed, whatever else has been committed to memory and laid up there, which forgetfulness has not yet swallowed up and buried. When I am in this storehouse, I call for what I want to be brought out, and some things appear immediately; others need to be searched for longer and are pulled out, as it were, from some hidden storage place; still others rush forward in groups, and while I am looking for and asking for something different, they jump into view, as if to say, Perhaps it is us you want? These I push away with the hand of my heart from the face of my remembrance, until what I am looking for comes into view from its hidden place. Other things come to mind effortlessly and in unbroken sequence, exactly as they are called for—those in front making way for those that follow, and as they make way they are stored up again to be available when I want them. All of this happens when I recite something from memory.

12. I will soar, then, beyond this power of my nature also, ascending by degrees unto Him who made me. And I enter the fields and roomy chambers of memory, where are the treasures of countless images, imported into it from all manner of things by the senses. There is treasured up whatsoever likewise we think, either by enlarging or diminishing, or by varying in any way whatever those things which the sense has arrived at; yea, and whatever else has been entrusted to it and stored up, which oblivion has not yet engulfed and buried. When I am in this storehouse, I demand that what I wish should be brought forth, and some things immediately appear; others require to be longer sought after, and are dragged, as it were, out of some hidden receptacle; others, again, hurry forth in crowds, and while another thing is sought and inquired for, they leap into view, as if to say, Is it not we, perchance? These I drive away with the hand of my heart from before the face of my remembrance, until what I wish be discovered making its appearance out of its secret cell. Other things suggest themselves without effort, and in continuous order, just as they are called for — those in front giving place to those that follow, and in giving place are treasured up again to be forthcoming when I wish it. All of which takes place when I repeat a thing from memory.

All these things, each entering through its own pathway, are stored there distinctly and organized under general categories. For instance, light and all colors and shapes of bodies enter through the eyes; all kinds of sounds through the ears; all smells through the nostrils; all tastes through the mouth; and through the sensation of the whole body comes what is hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or rough, heavy or light, whether outside or inside the body. This great storehouse of memory, with its many indescribable compartments, receives all these things to be recalled and brought back when needed. Each one, entering through its own doorway, is stored away inside. Yet the things themselves do not actually enter memory—only the images of the things perceived are kept there, ready for thought to recall. And who can explain how these images are formed, even though it is clear which sense brought each one in and stored it? For even while I am in darkness and silence, I can bring up colors in my memory if I want, and distinguish between black and white and whatever other colors I wish. Sounds do not break in and disturb what came in through my eyes and what I am now thinking about, since they too are stored there and kept separate, laid up apart. I can call these up too whenever I want, and they appear immediately. And even though my tongue is still and my throat is silent, I can sing as much as I like. Those images of colors, which are indeed stored there, do not push their way in and interrupt when I am considering another treasure that flowed in through the ears. In the same way, I recall at will the remaining things brought in and gathered up by the other senses. I can tell the scent of lilies from violets while smelling nothing at all, and I prefer honey to grape syrup, smooth things to rough ones, even though I am neither tasting nor touching anything, but only remembering.

13. All these things, each of which entered by its own avenue, are distinctly and under general heads there laid up: as, for example, light, and all colors and forms of bodies, by the eyes; sounds of all kinds by the ears; all smells by the passage of the nostrils; all flavours by that of the mouth; and by the sensation of the whole body is brought in what is hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or rough, heavy or light, whether external or internal to the body. All these does that great receptacle of memory, with its many and indescribable departments, receive, to be recalled and brought forth when required; each, entering by its own door, is hid up in it. And yet the things themselves do not enter it, but only the images of the things perceived are there ready at hand for thought to recall. And who can tell how these images are formed, notwithstanding that it is evident by which of the senses each has been fetched in and treasured up? For even while I live in darkness and silence, I can bring out colors in memory if I wish, and discern between black and white, and what others I wish; nor yet do sounds break in and disturb what is drawn in by my eyes, and which I am considering, seeing that they also are there, and are concealed, laid up, as it were, apart. For these too I can summon if I please, and immediately they appear. And though my tongue be at rest, and my throat silent, yet can I sing as much as I will; and those images of colors, which notwithstanding are there, do not interpose themselves and interrupt when another treasure is under consideration which flowed in through the ears. So the remaining things carried in and heaped up by the other senses, I recall at my pleasure. And I discern the scent of lilies from that of violets while smelling nothing; and I prefer honey to grape-syrup, a smooth thing to a rough, though then I neither taste nor handle, but only remember.

These things I hold within, in that vast chamber of my memory. For there I have heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I can think about them, besides those things I have forgotten. There also I encounter myself and recall myself—what I did, when, and where I did something, and how I felt when I did it. There are all the things I remember, either from my own experience or based on what others have told me. From this same storehouse I construct, now one way, now another, likenesses of things I have either experienced myself or have believed based on my experience. And from these I also think about future actions, events, and hopes, and I reflect on all these as though they were present. I say to myself in that vast interior of my mind, filled with images of so many and such great things, "I will do this or that," and "this or that will follow from it." "If only this or that would happen!" "God prevent this or that!" This is how I speak to myself. And when I speak, the images of everything I am talking about are present, drawn from that same treasury of memory. I could not say anything at all about these things if the images were missing.

14. These things do I within, in that vast chamber of my memory. For there are near me heaven, earth, sea, and whatever I can think upon in them, besides those which I have forgotten. There also do I meet with myself, and recall myself — what, when, or where I did a thing, and how I was affected when I did it. There are all which I remember, either by personal experience or on the faith of others. Out of the same supply do I myself with the past construct now this, now that likeness of things, which either I have experienced, or, from having experienced, have believed; and thence again future actions, events, and hopes, and upon all these again do I meditate as if they were present. I will do this or that, say I to myself in that vast womb of my mind, filled with the images of things so many and so great, and this or that shall follow upon it. Oh that this or that might come to pass! God avert this or that! Thus speak I to myself; and when I speak, the images of all I speak about are present, out of the same treasury of memory; nor could I say anything at all about them were the images absent.

The power of memory is immense, exceedingly great, O my God—an inner chamber large and boundless! Who has measured its depths? Yet it is a power that is mine, and it belongs to my nature. But I do not myself comprehend all that I am. Therefore the mind is too limited to contain itself. And where would that part be which it does not contain of itself? Is it outside itself and not within itself? How is it, then, that it does not grasp itself? Great wonder rises up in me; astonishment seizes me. And people go out to marvel at the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the wide flow of rivers, the vastness of the ocean, and the movements of the stars, yet they fail to marvel at themselves. Nor do they wonder that when I spoke of all these things, I was not looking at them with my eyes, and yet I could not have spoken of them unless I saw inwardly in my memory those mountains, and waves, and rivers, and stars which I have seen, and that ocean which I believe exists—saw them with the same vast distances between them as when I saw them outside. But when I looked at them with my eyes, I did not draw them inside by seeing them. Nor are the things themselves within me, but their images. And I know by which bodily sense each one made an impression on me.

15. Great is this power of memory, exceeding great, O my God — an inner chamber large and boundless! Who has plumbed the depths thereof? Yet it is a power of mine, and appertains unto my nature; nor do I myself grasp all that I am. Therefore is the mind too narrow to contain itself. And where should that be which it does not contain of itself? Is it outside and not in itself? How is it, then, that it does not grasp itself? A great admiration rises upon me; astonishment seizes me. And men go forth to wonder at the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the broad flow of the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and the courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves; nor do they marvel that when I spoke of all these things, I was not looking on them with my eyes, and yet could not speak of them unless those mountains, and waves, and rivers, and stars which I saw, and that ocean which I believe in, I saw inwardly in my memory, and with the same vast spaces between as when I saw them abroad. But I did not by seeing appropriate them when I looked on them with my eyes; nor are the things themselves with me, but their images. And I knew by what corporeal sense each made impression on me.

Yet not even all these things are what the unlimited capacity of my memory holds. Here also is everything I have learned from the liberal arts and have not yet forgotten—stored as if in an inner place, though it is not actually a place. What is retained here is not merely images but the things themselves. For whatever I know about literature, the skill of logical argument, and all the many kinds of questions there are exists in my memory in such a way that I have not merely taken in an image while leaving the actual thing outside, nor has it sounded and passed away like a voice that leaves an impression on the ear through which it might be recalled, as if it were still sounding when it no longer does. It is not like a scent that passes away and dissolves into the air, affecting the sense of smell and conveying an image of itself into the memory that we experience when recollecting. Nor is it like food that certainly has no taste once it is in the stomach, yet still has a kind of taste in the memory. Nor is it like anything felt by the body through touch, which the memory pictures even when removed from us. For these things themselves are not placed into the memory; rather, only their images are captured with astonishing speed and stored in the most wonderful storehouses, and then brought forth wonderfully when we remember.

16. And yet are not these all that the illimitable capacity of my memory retains. Here also is all that is apprehended of the liberal sciences, and not yet forgotten — removed as it were into an inner place, which is not a place; nor are they the images which are retained, but the things themselves. For what is literature, what skill in disputation, whatsoever I know of all the many kinds of questions there are, is so in my memory, as that I have not taken in the image and left the thing without, or that it should have sounded and passed away like a voice imprinted on the ear by that trace, whereby it might be recorded, as though it sounded when it no longer did so; or as an odour while it passes away, and vanishes into wind, affects the sense of smell, whence it conveys the image of itself into the memory, which we realize in recollecting; or like food, which assuredly in the belly has now no taste, and yet has a kind of taste in the memory, or like anything that is by touching felt by the body, and which even when removed from us is imagined by the memory. For these things themselves are not put into it, but the images of them only are caught up, with a marvellous quickness, and laid up, as it were, in most wonderful garners, and wonderfully brought forth when we remember.

When I hear that there are three kinds of questions—whether a thing exists, what it is, and what kind it is—I do hold onto the images of the sounds that make up these words, and I know that those sounds passed through the air with noise and are now gone. But the things themselves that these sounds signify, I never encountered through any bodily sense, nor did I perceive them any other way than through my mind. In my memory I have stored not their images, but the things themselves. How they entered me, let them explain if they can. For I examine all the gates of my body but cannot find through which one they entered. The eyes say, "If they were colored, we reported them." The ears say, "If they made sound, we announced them." The nostrils say, "If they had smell, they came through us." The sense of taste says, "If they have no flavor, don't ask me." The sense of touch says, "If it has no body, I didn't handle it, and if I never handled it, I gave no report of it." From where and how did these things enter my memory? I don't know. For when I learned them, I didn't trust another person's understanding, but I perceived them in my own mind. I recognized them as true and committed them to memory, storing them as if in a place from which I could retrieve them whenever I wanted. They were there, then, even before I learned them, but they were not in my memory. Where were they, then? And why, when they were spoken, did I recognize them and say, "Yes, that's right, that's true"—unless they were already in my memory, though pushed back and hidden in more secret depths, so that if they hadn't been drawn out by someone else's instruction, I might not have been able to think of them?

17. But truly when I hear that there are three kinds of questions, Whether a thing is?– what it is?– of what kind it is? I do indeed hold fast the images of the sounds of which these words are composed, and I know that those sounds passed through the air with a noise, and now are not. But the things themselves which are signified by these sounds I never arrived at by any sense of the body, nor ever perceived them otherwise than by my mind; and in my memory have I laid up not their images, but themselves, which, how they entered into me, let them tell if they are able. For I examine all the gates of my flesh, but find not by which of them they entered. For the eyes say, If they were colored, we announced them. The ears say, If they sounded, we gave notice of them. The nostrils say, If they smell, they passed in by us. The sense of taste says, If they have no flavour, ask not me. The touch says, If it have not body, I handled it not, and if I never handled it, I gave no notice of it. Whence and how did these things enter into my memory? I know not how. For when I learned them, I gave not credit to the heart of another man, but perceived them in my own; and I approved them as true, and committed them to it, laying them up, as it were, whence I might fetch them when I willed. There, then, they were, even before I learned them, but were not in my memory. Where were they, then, or wherefore, when they were spoken, did I acknowledge them, and say, So it is, it is true, unless as being already in the memory, though so put back and concealed, as it were, in more secret caverns, that had they not been drawn forth by the advice of another I would not, perchance, have been able to conceive of them?

Therefore we find that learning these things—whose images we do not absorb through our senses but perceive within as they are in themselves, without images—is nothing other than gathering them together through reflection and, by careful attention, ensuring that those concepts which the memory previously contained in a scattered and confused way are stored within reach in that same memory, where they previously lay hidden, scattered, and neglected. In this way they present themselves more easily to the mind that has become accustomed to observing them. And how many things of this kind does my memory retain that have already been discovered and, as I said, are stored ready at hand, which we are said to have learned and to have known? Yet if we stop recalling them even for brief periods of time, they become submerged again and slip back into more remote compartments. They must then be drawn out from there again as if they were new (for they have no other place), and must be gathered together again so that they may become known. That is to say, they must be collected from their dispersed state—which is why we have the word cogitare. For cogo (I collect) and cogito (I recollect) have the same relationship to each other as ago and agito, facio and factito. But the mind has claimed this word for itself, so that properly speaking, cogitation refers not to what is collected anywhere, but to what is collected—that is, marshalled—in the mind.

18. Wherefore we find that to learn these things, whose images we drink not in by our senses, but perceive within as they are by themselves, without images, is nothing else but by meditation as it were to concentrate, and by observing to take care that those notions which the memory did before contain scattered and confused, be laid up at hand, as it were, in that same memory, where before they lay concealed, scattered and neglected, and so the more easily present themselves to the mind well accustomed to observe them. And how many things of this sort does my memory retain which have been found out already, and, as I said, are, as it were, laid up ready to hand, which we are said to have learned and to have known; which, should we for small intervals of time cease to recall, they are again so submerged and slide back, as it were, into the more remote chambers, that they must be evolved thence again as if new (for other sphere they have none), and must be marshalled [ cogenda] again that they may become known; that is to say, they must be collected [ colligenda], as it were, from their dispersion; whence we have the word cogitare. For cogo [ I collect] and cogito [ I recollect] have the same relation to each other as ago and agito, facio and factito. But the mind has appropriated to itself this word [cogitation], so that not that which is collected anywhere, but what is collected, that is marshalled, in the mind, is properly said to be cogitated.

The memory also contains the principles and countless laws of numbers and measurements, none of which have been impressed on it through any bodily sense, since they have no color, sound, taste, smell, or touch. I have heard the sounds of the words people use to describe these things when discussing them, but the sounds are different from the things themselves. The sounds are one thing in Greek, another in Latin, but the things themselves are neither Greek nor Latin nor any other language. I have seen the lines drawn by craftsmen, even the very fine ones like a spider's web, but mathematical lines are different—they are not images of what my physical eye has shown me. Anyone who perceives them within himself without any concept of a physical body knows what they are. I have also perceived the numbers we use to count things with all our bodily senses, but the numbers by which we count are something different and are not images of physical things, and therefore they truly exist. Let anyone who cannot see these things mock me for saying this, and I will pity him even as he mocks me.

19. The memory contains also the reasons and innumerable laws of numbers and dimensions, none of which has any sense of the body impressed, seeing they have neither color, nor sound, nor taste, nor smell, nor sense of touch. I have heard the sound of the words by which these things are signified when they are discussed; but the sounds are one thing, the things another. For the sounds are one thing in Greek, another in Latin; but the things themselves are neither Greek, nor Latin, nor any other language. I have seen the lines of the craftsmen, even the finest, like a spider's web; but these are of another kind, they are not the images of those which the eye of my flesh showed me; he knows them who, without any idea whatsoever of a body, perceives them within himself. I have also observed the numbers of the things with which we number all the senses of the body; but those by which we number are of another kind, nor are they the images of these, and therefore they certainly are. Let him who sees not these things mock me for saying them; and I will pity him, while he mocks me.

All these things I keep in my memory, and I also keep in my memory how I learned them. I also retain many things that I have heard falsely objected against them, and though these objections are false, it is not false that I remember them. I also remember that I have distinguished between those truths and these falsehoods spoken against them. And I now see that it is one thing to distinguish these things, and another thing to remember that I often distinguished them when I often thought about them. So I both remember that I have often understood these things, and what I now distinguish and comprehend I store away in my memory so that in the future I may remember that I understand it now. Therefore I also remember that I have remembered, so that if later on I recall that I was able to remember these things, it will be through the power of memory that I recall it.

20. All these things I retain in my memory, and how I learned them I retain. I retain also many things which I have heard most falsely objected against them, which though they be false, yet is it not false that I have remembered them; and I remember, too, that I have distinguished between those truths and these falsehoods uttered against them; and I now see that it is one thing to distinguish these things, another to remember that I often distinguished them, when I often reflected upon them. I both remember, then, that I have often understood these things, and what I now distinguish and comprehend I store away in my memory, that hereafter I may remember that I understood it now. Therefore also I remember that I have remembered; so that if afterwards I shall call to mind that I have been able to remember these things, it will be through the power of memory that I shall call it to mind.

This same memory also contains the affections of my mind, but not in the same way the mind itself contains them when it experiences them. Rather, memory contains them very differently, according to a power that belongs specifically to memory. For without being joyous, I remember that I once had joy, and without being sad, I recall past sadness. I remember what I once feared without feeling fear, and I recall a former desire without experiencing desire. Conversely, sometimes when I am joyous I remember past sadness, and when I am sad I remember past joy. This is not surprising when it concerns the body, since the mind is one thing and the body is another. Therefore, if I am happy and recall some past bodily pain, this is not so strange. But now, since this very memory itself is mind—for when we tell someone to remember something, we say "Keep this in mind," and when we forget something, we say "It didn't come to mind" or "It slipped my mind," thus calling memory itself mind—since this is the case, how does it happen that when I am joyful and remember my past sorrow, the mind has joy and the memory has sorrow? The mind is joyful because of the joy that is in it, yet the memory is not sad because of the sadness that is in it. Does memory perhaps not belong to the mind? Who would say such a thing? Memory is, so to speak, the stomach of the mind, and joy and sadness are like sweet and bitter food. When these are entrusted to memory, they are as if passed into the stomach, where they can be stored but cannot be tasted. It is absurd to think these things are exactly alike, yet they are not completely unlike either.

21. This same memory contains also the affections of my mind; not in the manner in which the mind itself contains them when it suffers them, but very differently according to a power peculiar to memory. For without being joyous, I remember myself to have had joy; and without being sad, I call to mind my past sadness; and that of which I was once afraid, I remember without fear; and without desire recall a former desire. Again, on the contrary, I at times remember when joyous my past sadness, and when sad my joy. Which is not to be wondered at as regards the body; for the mind is one thing, the body another. If I, therefore, when happy, recall some past bodily pain, it is not so strange a thing. But now, as this very memory itself is mind (for when we give orders to have a thing kept in memory, we say, See that you bear this in mind; and when we forget a thing, we say, It did not enter my mind, and, It slipped from my mind, thus calling the memory itself mind), as this is so, how comes it to pass that when being joyful I remember my past sorrow, the mind has joy, the memory sorrow — the mind, from the joy than is in it, is joyful, yet the memory, from the sadness that is in it, is not sad? Does not the memory perchance belong unto the mind? Who will say so? The memory doubtless is, so to say, the belly of the mind, and joy and sadness like sweet and bitter food, which, when entrusted to the memory, are, as it were, passed into the belly, where they can be reposited, but cannot taste. It is ridiculous to imagine these to be alike; and yet they are not utterly unlike.

When I draw from my memory, I can state that there are four disturbances of the mind—desire, joy, fear, and sorrow. Whatever I am able to discuss about these, by dividing each into its specific types and defining it, I find what I need to say there and draw it out from memory. Yet I am not disturbed by any of these emotions when I recall them and bring them to mind. Before I recollected and reviewed them, they were already there in my memory, which is why they could be brought forth through remembering. Perhaps, just as food is brought back up from the stomach in rumination, these are drawn out from the memory by recalling them. Why then does the person discussing these things not experience in the mouth of his meditation the sweetness of joy or the bitterness of sorrow? Is the comparison different because it is not alike in every respect? For who would willingly talk about these subjects if, whenever we mention sorrow or fear, we were forced to become sorrowful or fearful? Yet we could never speak of them if we did not find in our memory not just the sounds of the names, according to the images impressed on it by the bodily senses, but the concepts of the things themselves. We never received these through any gateway of the flesh, but rather the mind itself, recognizing them through the experience of its own emotions, entrusted them to the memory—or else the memory itself retained them without their being entrusted to it.

22. But behold, out of my memory I educe it, when I affirm that there be four perturbations of the mind — desire, joy, fear, sorrow; and whatsoever I shall be able to dispute on these, by dividing each into its peculiar species, and by defining it, there I find what I may say, and thence I educe it; yet am I not disturbed by any of these perturbations when by remembering them I call them to mind; and before I recollected and reviewed them, they were there; wherefore by remembrance could they be brought thence. Perchance, then, even as meat is in ruminating brought up out of the belly, so by calling to mind are these educed from the memory. Why, then, does not the disputant, thus recollecting, perceive in the mouth of his meditation the sweetness of joy or the bitterness of sorrow? Is the comparison unlike in this because not like in all points? For who would willingly discourse on these subjects, if, as often as we name sorrow or fear, we should be compelled to be sorrowful or fearful? And yet we could never speak of them, did we not find in our memory not merely the sounds of the names, according to the images imprinted on it by the senses of the body, but the notions of the things themselves, which we never received by any door of the flesh, but which the mind itself, recognising by the experience of its own passions, entrusted to the memory, or else which the memory itself retained without their being entrusted to it.

But whether things are present through images or not, who can confidently say? When I name a stone or the sun, the things themselves are not present to my senses, but their images are close at hand in my memory. When I name some bodily pain, the pain itself is not present if there is no pain occurring, yet if its image were not in my memory, I would not know what to say about it, nor would I be able in discussion to distinguish it from pleasure. When I name bodily health while being in good health, the thing itself is indeed present with me, but unless its image were also in my memory, I could in no way recall what the sound of this word meant. Nor would sick people understand what was being said when health was mentioned, unless the same image were retained by the power of memory, even though the thing itself were absent from the body. When I name numbers that we use for counting, it is not their images but the numbers themselves that are in my memory. When I name the image of the sun, this too is in my memory. For I do not recall the image of that image, but the image itself, because the image itself is present when I remember it. When I name memory, I know what I am naming. But where do I know it, except in the memory itself? Is memory also present to itself through its image, and not through itself?

23. But whether by images or no, who can well affirm? For I name a stone, I name the sun, and the things themselves are not present to my senses, but their images are near to my memory. I name some pain of the body, yet it is not present when there is no pain; yet if its image were not in my memory, I should be ignorant what to say concerning it, nor in arguing be able to distinguish it from pleasure. I name bodily health when sound in body; the thing itself is indeed present with me, but unless its image also were in my memory, I could by no means call to mind what the sound of this name signified. Nor would sick people know, when health was named, what was said, unless the same image were retained by the power of memory, although the thing itself were absent from the body. I name numbers whereby we enumerate; and not their images, but they themselves are in my memory. I name the image of the sun, and this, too, is in my memory. For I do not recall the image of that image, but itself, for the image itself is present when I remember it. I name memory, and I know what I name. But where do I know it, except in the memory itself? Is it also present to itself by its image, and not by itself?

When I name forgetfulness and also know what I am naming, how would I know it unless I remembered it? I don't mean the sound of the name, but the thing it signifies—which, if I had forgotten it, I could not know what that sound meant. Therefore, when I remember memory, memory is present with itself, through itself. But when I remember forgetfulness, both memory and forgetfulness are present—memory, by which I remember, and forgetfulness, which I remember. But what is forgetfulness except the privation of memory? How, then, is it present for me to remember, since when it is present, I cannot remember? Yet if we retain in memory what we remember, and unless we remembered forgetfulness we could never know the thing meant by the name when we hear it, then forgetfulness is retained by memory. Therefore it is present, so that we should not forget it; and being present, we do forget. Should we conclude from this that forgetfulness, when we remember it, is not present to the memory through itself, but through its image? For if forgetfulness were present through itself, it would not lead us to remember, but to forget. Who will now investigate this? Who can understand how it is?

24. When I name forgetfulness, and know, too, what I name, whence should I know it if I did not remember it? I do not say the sound of the name, but the thing which it signifies which, had I forgotten, I could not know what that sound signified. When, therefore, I remember memory, then is memory present with itself, through itself. But when I remember forgetfulness, there are present both memory and forgetfulness — memory, whereby I remember, forgetfulness, which I remember. But what is forgetfulness but the privation of memory? How, then, is that present for me to remember, since, when it is so, I cannot remember? But if what we remember we retain in memory, yet, unless we remembered forgetfulness, we could never at the hearing of the name know the thing meant by it, then is forgetfulness retained by memory. Present, therefore, it is, lest we should forget it; and being so, we do forget. Is it to be inferred from this that forgetfulness, when we remember it, is not present to the memory through itself, but through its image; because, were forgetfulness present through itself, it would not lead us to remember, but to forget? Who will now investigate this? Who shall understand how it is?

Truly, Lord, I labor in this matter, and I labor within myself. I have become difficult ground requiring too much work. For we are not now searching out the regions of heaven, or measuring the distances of the stars, or asking about the weight of the earth. It is I myself—I, the mind—who remembers. It should not be so surprising if what I myself am not is far from me. But what is closer to me than myself? And yet, look, I cannot grasp the power of my own memory, even though I cannot name myself without it. For what shall I say when it is clear to me that I remember forgetfulness? Shall I claim that what I remember is not in my memory? Or shall I say that forgetfulness is in my memory so that I will not forget? Both of these are completely absurd. What third option is there? How can I claim that the image of forgetfulness is kept by my memory, and not forgetfulness itself, when I remember it? And how can I claim this, given that when the image of anything is impressed on the memory, the thing itself must necessarily be present first so that its image may be impressed? For this is how I remember Carthage; this is how I remember all the places where I have been; this is how I remember the faces of people I have seen, and things reported by my other senses; this is how I remember the health or sickness of the body. For when these objects were present, my memory received images from them, which I could look at and think about in my mind, when I remembered them after they were absent. If, therefore, forgetfulness is kept in the memory through its image, and not through itself, then it must once have been present, so that its image might be captured. But when it was present, how did it write its image on the memory, since forgetfulness by its presence erases even what it finds already recorded? And yet, in whatever way, though it is incomprehensible and inexplicable, I am most certain that I also remember forgetfulness itself, by which what we do remember is erased.

25. Truly, O Lord, I labour therein, and labour in myself. I have become a troublesome soil that requires overmuch labour. For we are not now searching out the tracts of heaven, or measuring the distances of the stars, or inquiring about the weight of the earth. It is I myself — I, the mind — who remember. It is not much to be wondered at, if what I myself am not be far from me. But what is nearer to me than myself? And, behold, I am not able to comprehend the force of my own memory, though I cannot name myself without it. For what shall I say when it is plain to me that I remember forgetfulness? Shall I affirm that which I remember is not in my memory? Or shall I say that forgetfulness is in my memory with the view of my not forgetting? Both of these are most absurd. What third view is there? How can I assert that the image of forgetfulness is retained by my memory, and not forgetfulness itself, when I remember it? And how can I assert this, seeing that when the image of anything is imprinted on the memory, the thing itself must of necessity be present first by which that image may be imprinted? For thus do I remember Carthage; thus, all the places to which I have been; thus, the faces of men whom I have seen, and things reported by the other senses; thus, the health or sickness of the body. For when these objects were present, my memory received images from them, which, when they were present, I might gaze on and reconsider in my mind, as I remembered them when they were absent. If, therefore, forgetfulness is retained in the memory through its image, and not through itself, then itself was once present, that its image might be taken. But when it was present, how did it write its image on the memory, seeing that forgetfulness by its presence blots out even what it finds already noted? And yet, in whatever way, though it be incomprehensible and inexplicable, yet most certain I am that I remember also forgetfulness itself, whereby what we do remember is blotted out.

The power of memory is great; it is truly wonderful, O my God, a deep and infinitely complex thing. This thing is the mind, and this I myself am. What then am I, O my God? What is my nature? A life that is varied, manifold, and immeasurably vast. Look at the countless fields, caves, and caverns of my memory, filled beyond measure with numberless kinds of things—whether through images, as with all physical bodies; or through the actual presence of the things themselves, as with learned skills; or through some concept or awareness, as with the emotions of the mind, which the memory retains even when the mind is not experiencing them, since whatever is in the memory is also in the mind. Through all these I run back and forth and move quickly; I probe in every direction as far as I can, and there is no end. So great is the power of memory, so great is the power of life in mortal man. What then shall I do, O You my true life, my God? I will pass even beyond this power of mine which is called memory—I will pass beyond it so that I may come to You, O sweet Light. What do You say to me? Look, I am rising up through my mind toward You who remain above me. I will also pass beyond this power of mine which is called memory, desiring to reach You from where You can be reached, and to cling to You from where it is possible to cling to You. For even beasts and birds possess memory; otherwise they could never find their dens and nests again, nor many other things they are accustomed to. Indeed, they could not become accustomed to anything except through their memory. I will pass beyond memory as well, so that I may reach Him who has separated me from the four-footed beasts and the birds of the air, making me wiser than they. I will pass beyond memory also, but where shall I find You, O truly good and certain sweetness? But where shall I find You? If I find You without memory, then I am forgetful of You. And how then shall I find You if I do not remember You?

26. Great is the power of memory; very wonderful is it, O my God, a profound and infinite manifoldness; and this thing is the mind, and this I myself am. What then am I, O my God? Of what nature am I? A life various and manifold, and exceeding vast. Behold, in the numberless fields, and caves, and caverns of my memory, full without number of numberless kinds of things, either through images, as all bodies are; or by the presence of the things themselves, as are the arts; or by some notion or observation, as the affections of the mind are, which, even though the mind does not suffer, the memory retains, while whatsoever is in the memory is also in the mind: through all these do I run to and fro, and fly; I penetrate on this side and that, as far as I am able, and nowhere is there an end. So great is the power of memory, so great the power of life in man, whose life is mortal. What then shall I do, O Thou my true life, my God? I will pass even beyond this power of mine which is called memory — I will pass beyond it, that I may proceed to You, O Thou sweet Light. What sayest Thou to me? Behold, I am soaring by my mind towards You who remainest above me. I will also pass beyond this power of mine which is called memory, wishful to reach You whence You can be reached, and to cleave unto You whence it is possible to cleave unto You. For even beasts and birds possess memory, else could they never find their lairs and nests again, nor many other things to which they are used; neither indeed could they become used to anything, but by their memory. I will pass, then, beyond memory also, that I may reach Him who has separated me from the four-footed beasts and the fowls of the air, making me wiser than they. I will pass beyond memory also, but where shall I find You, O Thou truly good and assured sweetness? But where shall I find You? If I find You without memory, then am I unmindful of You. And how now shall I find You, if I do not remember You?

The woman who lost her drachma and searched for it with a lamp would never have found it unless she had remembered it. When it was found, how could she know whether it was the same coin if she had not remembered it? I remember losing and finding many things myself, and I know from experience that when I was searching for any of them and someone asked, "Is this it? Is that it?" I said no until the thing I was looking for was shown to me. If I had not remembered it—whatever it was—even if it were shown to me, I would not have found it because I could not recognize it. This is always how it works when we search for and find anything that is lost. However, if something is lost from sight by accident but not from memory—like any visible object—the image of it is kept within us and is searched for until it is seen again. When it is found, it is recognized by the image that is within us. We do not say we have found what we lost unless we recognize it, and we cannot recognize it unless we remember it. But this thing, though lost to sight, was kept in the memory.

27. For the woman who lost her drachma, and searched for it with a lamp, Luke 15:8 unless she had remembered it, would never have found it. For when it was found, whence could she know whether it were the same, had she not remembered it? I remember to have lost and found many things; and this I know thereby, that when I was searching for any of them, and was asked, Is this it? Is that it? I answered No, until such time as that which I sought were offered to me. Which had I not remembered — whatever it were — though it were offered me, yet would I not find it, because I could not recognise it. And thus it is always, when we search for and find anything that is lost. Notwithstanding, if anything be by accident lost from the sight, not from the memory, — as any visible body — the image of it is retained within, and is searched for until it be restored to sight; and when it is found, it is recognised by the image which is within. Nor do we say that we have found what we had lost unless we recognise it; nor can we recognise it unless we remember it. But this, though lost to the sight, was retained in the memory.

But what happens when the memory itself loses something, as occurs when we forget something and try to recall it? Where do we ultimately search, except in the memory itself? And there, if by chance one thing is offered instead of another, we reject it until we find what we are looking for. When we do find it, we say, "This is it!"—which we would not do unless we recognized it, nor would we recognize it unless we remembered it. Clearly, then, we had forgotten it. Or perhaps not all of it had slipped from our memory, but through the part we still held onto, the other part was being sought. The memory sensed that it was not working together as fully as it usually does, and stumbling as if from the disruption of its old pattern, it demanded the restoration of what was missing. For instance, if we see or think of someone we know and have forgotten his name and try to recover it, whatever other name comes to mind has no connection with him. Since it was not usually thought of in connection with him, it is rejected, until the name appears on which our knowledge rests appropriately as its familiar object. And from where does that name appear, if not from the memory itself? For even when we recognize it after being reminded of it by someone else, it comes from there. We do not receive it as something new, but as we recall it, we acknowledge that what was said is correct. But if it had been completely erased from the mind, we would not recollect it even when reminded of it. For we have not yet entirely forgotten what we remember that we have forgotten. A lost idea, then, which we have completely forgotten, we cannot even search for.

28. But how is it when the memory itself loses anything, as it happens when we forget anything and try to recall it? Where finally do we search, but in the memory itself? And there, if perchance one thing be offered for another, we refuse it, until we meet with what we seek; and when we do, we exclaim, This is it! which we should not do unless we knew it again, nor should we recognise it unless we remembered it. Assuredly, therefore, we had forgotten it. Or, had not the whole of it slipped our memory, but by the part by which we had hold was the other part sought for; since the memory perceived that it did not revolve together as much as it was accustomed to do, and halting, as if from the mutilation of its old habit, demanded the restoration of that which was wanting. For example, if we see or think of some man known to us, and, having forgotten his name, endeavour to recover it, whatsoever other thing presents itself is not connected with it; because it was not used to be thought of in connection with him, and is consequently rejected, until that is present whereon the knowledge reposes fittingly as its accustomed object. And whence, save from the memory itself, does that present itself? For even when we recognise it as put in mind of it by another, it is thence it comes. For we do not believe it as something new, but, as we recall it, admit what was said to be correct. But if it were entirely blotted out of the mind, we should not, even when put in mind of it, recollect it. For we have not as yet entirely forgotten what we remember that we have forgotten. A lost notion, then, which we have entirely forgotten, we cannot even search for.

How, then, do I seek You, O Lord? For when I seek You, my God, I seek a happy life. I will seek You, so that my soul may live. For my body lives by my soul, and my soul lives by You. How, then, do I seek a happy life, since it is not mine until I can say, "It is enough!" in that place where I should say it? How do I seek it? Is it by remembering, as if I had forgotten it, while also knowing that I had forgotten it? Or am I longing to learn it as something unknown—something I had never known, or had forgotten so completely that I don't even remember having forgotten it? Is not a happy life what everyone desires, and is there anyone who does not desire it at all? But where did they learn about it, that they desire it so much? Where have they seen it, that they love it so? We truly have it, but I don't know how. Yes, there is another way: when someone has it, he is happy. And some people are happy in hope. These have it in a lesser way than those who are actually happy, yet they are better off than those who are happy neither in reality nor in hope. And even these people, if they did not have it in some way, would not desire so much to be happy—which they most certainly do desire. How they come to know it, I cannot say, but they have it through some kind of knowledge unknown to me, and I am in great doubt whether it exists in the memory. For if it is there, then we have been happy at some point—whether all of us individually, or in that man who first sinned, in whom we all died, and from whom we are all born into misery, I do not now ask. But I do ask whether the happy life exists in the memory. For if we did not know it, we would not love it. We hear the word, and we all recognize that we desire the thing itself, for we are not pleased merely by the sound. When a Greek hears it spoken in Latin, he is not delighted, because he does not know what is being said. But we are delighted, just as he would be if he heard it in Greek, because the thing itself is neither Greek nor Latin—it is what Greeks and Latins and people of all other languages long so earnestly to obtain. It is therefore known to everyone, and if they could all be asked with one voice whether they wished to be happy, they would without doubt all answer that they would. And this could not be unless the thing itself, of which it is the name, were kept in their memory.

29. How, then, do I seek You, O Lord? For when I seek You, my God, I seek a happy life. I will seek You, that my soul may live. Amos 5:4 For my body lives by my soul, and my soul lives by You. How, then, do I seek a happy life, seeing that it is not mine till I can say, It is enough! in that place where I ought to say it? How do I seek it? Is it by remembrance, as though I had forgotten it, knowing too that I had forgotten it? Or, longing to learn it as a thing unknown, which either I had never known, or had so forgotten it as not even to remember that I had forgotten it? Is not a happy life the thing that all desire, and is there any one who altogether desires it not? But where did they acquire the knowledge of it, that they so desire it? Where have they seen it, that they so love it? Truly we have it, but how I know not. Yea, there is another way in which, when any one has it, he is happy; and some there be that are happy in hope. These have it in an inferior kind to those that are happy in fact; and yet are they better off than they who are happy neither in fact nor in hope. And even these, had they it not in some way, would not so much desire to be happy, which that they do desire is most certain. How they come to know it, I cannot tell, but they have it by some kind of knowledge unknown to me, who am in much doubt as to whether it be in the memory; for if it be there, then have we been happy once; whether all individually, or as in that man who first sinned, in whom also we all died, and from whom we are all born with misery, I do not now ask; but I ask whether the happy life be in the memory? For did we not know it, we should not love it. We hear the name, and we all acknowledge that we desire the thing; for we are not delighted with the sound only. For when a Greek hears it spoken in Latin, he does not feel delighted, for he knows not what is spoken; but we are delighted, as he too would be if he heard it in Greek; because the thing itself is neither Greek nor Latin, which Greeks and Latins, and men of all other tongues, long so earnestly to obtain. It is then known unto all, and could they with one voice be asked whether they wished to be happy, without doubt they would all answer that they would. And this could not be unless the thing itself, of which it is the name, were retained in their memory.

But is it like how someone who has seen Carthage remembers it? No, because a happy life is not visible to the eye, since it is not a body. Is it, then, like how we remember numbers? No, because someone who knows numbers doesn't strive to obtain them further. But we have a happy life in our knowledge, and therefore we love it, yet we still wish to attain it further so that we may be happy. Is it, then, like how we remember eloquence? No. Although some people, when they hear this word, recall the thing—people who are not yet eloquent themselves, and many who wish to become eloquent (which shows it is in their knowledge)—these people have noticed through their bodily senses that others are eloquent, been delighted by it, and desire to be the same. They would not be delighted except through some interior knowledge, nor would they desire it unless they were delighted. But we cannot experience a happy life in others through any bodily sense. Is it, then, like how we remember joy? Perhaps so, for I remember my joy even when I am sad, just as I remember a happy life when I am miserable. I never saw, heard, smelled, tasted, or touched my joy with any bodily sense, but I experienced it in my mind when I rejoiced. The knowledge of it stuck in my memory, so that I can recall it sometimes with contempt and other times with desire, depending on the nature of the things in which I now remember I rejoiced. For I have even been filled with a certain joy from impure things, which I now recall with disgust and hatred. At other times, I recall joy from good and honest things, which I remember with longing, even though those things may not be present now, and then I recall that former joy with sadness.

30. But is it so as one who has seen Carthage remembers it? No. For a happy life is not visible to the eye, because it is not a body. Is it, then, as we remember numbers? No. For he that has these in his knowledge strives not to attain further; but a happy life we have in our knowledge, and, therefore, do we love it, while yet we wish further to attain it that we may be happy. Is it, then, as we remember eloquence? No. For although some, when they hear this name, call the thing to mind, who, indeed, are not yet eloquent, and many who wish to be so, whence it appears to be in their knowledge; yet have these by their bodily perceptions noticed that others are eloquent, and been delighted with it, and long to be so — although they would not be delighted save for some interior knowledge, nor desire to be so unless they were delighted — but a happy life we can by no bodily perception make experience of in others. Is it, then, as we remember joy? It may be so; for my joy I remember, even when sad, like as I do a happy life when I am miserable. Nor did I ever with perception of the body either see, hear, smell, taste, or touch my joy; but I experienced it in my mind when I rejoiced; and the knowledge of it clung to my memory, so that I can call it to mind sometimes with disdain and at others with desire, according to the difference of the things wherein I now remember that I rejoiced. For even from unclean things have I been bathed with a certain joy, which now calling to mind, I detest and execrate; at other times, from good and honest things, which, with longing, I call to mind, though perchance they be not near at hand, and then with sadness do I call to mind a former joy.

Where and when did I experience my happy life, that I can recall it to mind and love it and long for it? It's not just me alone or a few others who want to be happy, but truly everyone. Unless we knew this by certain knowledge, we wouldn't desire it with such a certain will. But how is it that if two people are asked whether they would like to serve as soldiers, one might answer yes and the other no, yet if they were asked whether they would like to be happy, both would say yes without hesitation? And one person wants to serve while the other doesn't for no other reason than to be happy. Perhaps it's that just as one person finds joy in this and another in that, all people agree in their desire for happiness, just as they would agree, if asked, in wanting to have joy—and they call this joy a happy life. So although one person pursues joy in one way and another in a different way, everyone has one goal they strive to reach: to have joy. Since this life is something no one can say they haven't experienced, it is for this reason found in the memory and recognized whenever the name of a happy life is heard.

31. Where and when, then, did I experience my happy life, that I should call it to mind, and love and long for it? Nor is it I alone or a few others who wish to be happy, but truly all; which, unless by certain knowledge we knew, we should not wish with so certain a will. But how is this, that if two men be asked whether they would wish to serve as soldiers one, it may be, would reply that he would, the other that he would not; but if they were asked whether they would wish to be happy, both of them would unhesitatingly say that they would; and this one would wish to serve, and the other not, from no other motive but to be happy? Is it, perchance, that as one joys in this, and another in that, so do all men agree in their wish for happiness, as they would agree, were they asked, in wishing to have joy — and this joy they call a happy life? Although, then, one pursues joy in this way, and another in that, all have one goal, which they strive to attain, namely, to have joy. This life, being a thing which no one can say he has not experienced, it is on that account found in the memory, and recognised whenever the name of a happy life is heard.

Let it be far, O Lord—let it be far from the heart of Your servant who confesses to You; let it be far from me to think myself happy, whatever the joy may be. For there is a joy which is not given to the wicked, but to those who worship You thankfully, whose joy You Yourself are. And the happy life is this—to rejoice unto You, in You, and for You; this it is, and there is no other. But those who think there is another pursue a different joy, and not the true one. Yet their will is still drawn toward some shadow of joy.

32. Let it be far, O Lord, — let it be far from the heart of Your servant who confesses unto You; let it be far from me to think myself happy, be the joy what it may. For there is a joy which is not granted to the wicked, Isaiah 48:22 but to those who worship You thankfully, whose joy You Yourself art. And the happy life is this — to rejoice unto You, in You, and for You; this it is, and there is no other. But those who think there is another follow after another joy, and that not the true one. Their will, however, is not turned away from some shadow of joy.

It is not certain, then, that all people wish to be happy, since those who do not wish to rejoice in You—which is the only happy life—do not truly desire the happy life. Or do all desire this, but because the flesh lusts against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh, so that they cannot do what they want to do, they settle for what they are able to do and are content with that? This happens because they do not will strongly enough what they cannot do to make themselves able to do it. I ask every person whether they would rather rejoice in truth or in falsehood. They will say without hesitation "in truth," just as quickly as they say they wish to be happy. For a happy life is joy in the truth. This is joy in You, who are the truth, O God, my light, the health of my countenance, and my God. Everyone wishes for this happy life; everyone wishes for this life, which is the only happy one; everyone wishes for joy in the truth. I have known many who wished to deceive, but not one who wished to be deceived. Where, then, did they come to know this happy life, except where they also knew the truth? For they love it too, since they would not want to be deceived. And when they love a happy life, which is nothing other than joy in the truth, they certainly also love the truth. Yet they would not love it if there were not some knowledge of it in their memory. Why, then, do they not rejoice in it? Why are they not happy? Because they are more fully occupied with other things that make them miserable rather than with that which would make them happy, which they remember so little of. For there is still a little light in people; let them walk—let them walk, so that the darkness does not overtake them.

33. It is not, then, certain that all men wish to be happy, since those who wish not to rejoice in You, which is the only happy life, do not verily desire the happy life. Or do all desire this, but because the flesh lusts against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh, so that they cannot do the things that they would, Galatians 5:17 they fall upon that which they are able to do, and with that are content; because that which they are not able to do, they do not so will as to make them able? For I ask of every man, whether he would rather rejoice in truth or in falsehood. They will no more hesitate to say, in truth, than to say, that they wish to be happy. For a happy life is joy in the truth. For this is joy in You, who art the truth, John 14:6 O God, my light, the health of my countenance, and my God. All wish for this happy life; this life do all wish for, which is the only happy one; joy in the truth do all wish for. I have had experience of many who wished to deceive, but not one who wished to be deceived. Where, then, did they know this happy life, save where they knew also the truth? For they love it, too, since they would not be deceived. And when they love a happy life, which is naught else but joy in the truth, assuredly they love also the truth; which yet they would not love were there not some knowledge of it in the memory. Wherefore, then, do they not rejoice in it? Why are they not happy? Because they are more entirely occupied with other things which rather make them miserable, than that which would make them happy, which they remember so little of. For there is yet a little light in men; let them walk — let them walk, that the darkness seize them not. John 12:35

Why, then, does truth create hatred, and why does that man of yours who preaches the truth become an enemy to them, even though the happy life is loved, which is nothing other than joy in the truth? The answer is that truth is loved only in the sense that those who love something else want that thing they love to be the truth. And because they are willing to be deceived, they are unwilling to be convinced that they are deceived. Therefore they hate the truth for the sake of that thing which they love instead of the truth. They love truth when she shines on them, and hate her when she rebukes them. Because they do not want to be deceived but do want to deceive, they love truth when she reveals herself, and hate her when she reveals them. For this reason she will repay them in kind: those who did not want to be discovered by her, she discovers against their will, and she does not reveal herself to them. This is truly how the human mind—so blind and sick, so base and unseemly—desires to lie hidden, but does not want anything to be hidden from it. But the opposite happens: the mind itself is not hidden from the truth, but the truth is hidden from it. Yet even while in this wretched state, it prefers to rejoice in truth rather than in falsehood. Happy then will it be when, with no trouble intervening, it shall rejoice in that truth alone by whom all other things are true.

34. Why, then, does truth beget hatred and that man of yours, John 8:40 preaching the truth become an enemy unto them, whereas a happy life is loved, which is naught else but joy in the truth; unless that truth is loved in such a sort as that those who love anything else wish that to be the truth which they love, and, as they are willing to be deceived, are unwilling to be convinced that they are so? Therefore do they hate the truth for the sake of that thing which they love instead of the truth. They love truth when she shines on them, and hate her when she rebukes them. For, because they are not willing to be deceived, and wish to deceive, they love her when she reveals herself, and hate her when she reveals them. On that account shall she so requite them, that those who were unwilling to be discovered by her she both discovers against their will, and discovers not herself unto them. Thus, thus, truly thus does the human mind, so blind and sick, so base and unseemly, desire to lie concealed, but wishes not that anything should be concealed from it. But the opposite is rendered unto it — that itself is not concealed from the truth, but the truth is concealed from it. Yet, even while thus wretched, it prefers to rejoice in truth rather than in falsehood. Happy then will it be, when, no trouble intervening, it shall rejoice in that only truth by whom all things else are true.

Here is how I have searched extensively in my memory for You, O Lord, and I have not found You outside of it. Nor have I found anything about You except what I have kept in memory since the time I first learned of You. For since the time I learned of You, I have never forgotten You. For where I found truth, there I found my God, who is Truth itself, and since the time I learned this truth, I have not forgotten it. And so since the time I learned of You, You remain in my memory, and there I find You whenever I bring You to mind and take joy in You. These are my holy joys, which You have given me in Your mercy, showing regard for my poverty.

35. Behold how I have enlarged in my memory seeking You, O Lord; and out of it have I not found You. Nor have I found anything concerning You, but what I have retained in memory from the time I learned You. For from the time I learned You have I never forgotten You. For where I found truth, there found I my God, who is the Truth itself, which from the time I learned it have I not forgotten. And thus since the time I learned You, You abide in my memory; and there do I find You whenever I call You to remembrance, and delight in You. These are my holy delights, which You have bestowed upon me in Your mercy, having respect unto my poverty.

But where in my memory do You live, O Lord? Where do You live there? What kind of room have You made for Yourself there? What kind of sanctuary have You built for Yourself? You have given this honor to my memory, to make Your dwelling in it; but I am trying to figure out in what part of it You live. For when I called You to mind, I rose above those parts of memory that even animals have, since I did not find You there among the images of physical things. And I came to those parts where I had stored the emotions of my mind, but I did not find You there either. And I entered into the very seat of my mind itself, which exists in my memory, since the mind also remembers itself—but You were not there either. For just as You are not a physical image, nor the emotion of a living creature, like when we rejoice, grieve, desire, fear, remember, forget, or anything like that, so You are not the mind itself either, because You are the Lord God of the mind. And all these things change, but You remain unchangeable over all, yet You graciously agree to dwell in my memory, from the time I learned about You. But why am I now trying to find in what part of it You dwell, as if there were truly places in it? You certainly dwell in it, since I have remembered You from the time I learned about You, and I find You in it when I call You to mind.

36. But where in my memory do You abide, O Lord? Where do You there abide? What manner of chamber have You there formed for Yourself? What sort of sanctuary have You erected for Yourself? You have granted this honour to my memory, to take up Your abode in it; but in what quarter of it You abide, I am considering. For in calling You to mind, I soared beyond those parts of it which the beasts also possess, since I found You not there among the images of corporeal things; and I arrived at those parts where I had committed the affections of my mind, nor there did I find You. And I entered into the very seat of my mind, which it has in my memory, since the mind remembers itself also — nor were You there. For as You are not a bodily image, nor the affection of a living creature, as when we rejoice, condole, desire, fear, remember, forget, or anything of the kind; so neither are You the mind itself, because You are the Lord God of the mind; and all these things are changed, but You remain unchangeable over all, yet vouchsafe to dwell in my memory, from the time I learned You. But why do I now seek in what part of it You dwell, as if truly there were places in it? You dwell in it assuredly, since I have remembered You from the time I learned You, and I find You in it when I call You to mind.

Where, then, did I find You so that I could learn about You? You were not already in my memory before I learned about You. So where did I find You in order to learn about You, except in You above me? There is no physical place involved. We move backward and forward, yet there is no place. Everywhere, O Truth, You guide all who seek Your counsel, and You answer everyone at once, even though they consult You about different things. You answer clearly, though not everyone hears with clarity. Everyone consults You about whatever they want, though they don't always hear what they want to hear. Your best servant is not the one who mainly tries to hear from You what he himself wants, but rather the one who wants what he hears from You.

37. Where, then, did I find You, so as to be able to learn You? For You were not in my memory before I learned You. Where, then, did I find You, so as to be able to learn You, but in You above me? Place there is none; we go both backward and forward, Job 23:8 and there is no place. Everywhere, O Truth, do You direct all who consult You, and at once answer all, though they consult You on various things. Clearly do You answer, though all do not with clearness hear. All consult You upon whatever they wish, though they hear not always that which they wish. He is Your best servant who does not so much look to hear that from You which he himself wishes, as to wish that which he hears from You.

Too late I loved You, O Beauty so ancient and yet so new! Too late I loved You! For look, You were within me, and I was outside, and that is where I searched for You. In my ugliness, I rushed carelessly among the beautiful things You made. You were with me, but I was not with You. Those things kept me far from You—things which would not exist at all unless they existed in You. You called out and cried loudly, and broke through my deafness. You flashed and shone brightly, and drove away my blindness. You breathed out fragrance, and I drew breath and now pant for You. I tasted, and now I hunger and thirst. You touched me, and I burned with desire for Your peace.

38. Too late did I love You, O Fairness, so ancient, and yet so new! Too late did I love You! For behold, You were within, and I without, and there did I seek You; I, unlovely, rushed heedlessly among the things of beauty You made. You were with me, but I was not with You. Those things kept me far from You, which, unless they were in You, were not. You called, and cried aloud, and forced open my deafness. You gleamed and shine, and chase away my blindness. You exhaled odours, and I drew in my breath and do pant after You. I tasted, and do hunger and thirst. You touched me, and I burned for Your peace.

When I cling to You with my entire being, I will have no pain or struggle, and my life will be truly alive, completely filled with You. But now, since You lift up the one You fill, I am a burden to myself because I am not full of You. Joys mixed with sorrow battle against sorrows mixed with joy, and I don't know which side will win. How miserable I am! Lord, have mercy on me. My evil sorrows fight against my good joys, and I don't know which side will win. How miserable I am! Lord, have mercy on me. How miserable I am! Look, I don't hide my wounds—You are the Physician, I am the sick person; You are merciful, I am wretched. Isn't human life on earth a temptation? Who wants troubles and hardships? You command us to endure them, not to love them. No one loves what he endures, though he may love the act of enduring. Even though someone may rejoice in enduring, he would prefer to have nothing to endure. In hard times, I want good times; in good times, I fear hard times. What middle ground exists between these where human life is not a temptation? Woe to worldly prosperity, once and twice over, because of the fear of disaster and the spoiling of joy! Woe to worldly adversity, once and twice and three times over, because of the desire for prosperity, and because adversity itself is a harsh thing that destroys our ability to endure! Isn't human life on earth a temptation, and one that never stops?

39. When I shall cleave unto You with all my being, then shall I in nothing have pain and labour; and my life shall be a real life, being wholly full of You. But now since he whom Thou fillest is the one Thou liftest up, I am a burden to myself, as not being full of You. Joys of sorrow contend with sorrows of joy; and on which side the victory may be I know not. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me. My evil sorrows contend with my good joys; and on which side the victory may be I know not. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me. Woe is me! Lo, I hide not my wounds; You are the Physician, I the sick; Thou merciful, I miserable. Is not the life of man upon earth a temptation? Who is he that wishes for vexations and difficulties? You command them to be endured, not to be loved. For no man loves what he endures, though he may love to endure. For notwithstanding he rejoices to endure, he would rather there were naught for him to endure. In adversity, I desire prosperity; in prosperity, I fear adversity. What middle place, then, is there between these, where human life is not a temptation? Woe unto the prosperity of this world, once and again, from fear of misfortune and a corruption of joy! Woe unto the adversities of this world, once and again, and for the third time, from the desire of prosperity; and because adversity itself is a hard thing, and makes shipwreck of endurance! Is not the life of man upon earth a temptation, and that without intermission?

And my whole hope is only in your exceedingly great mercy. Give what you command, and command what you will. You impose continency upon us, nevertheless, when I perceived, says one, that I could not otherwise obtain her, except God gave her to me—that was also a point of wisdom to know whose gift she was. For by continency we are bound up and brought into one, whereas we were scattered abroad into many. For he loves you too little who loves anything along with you, which he does not love for your sake. O love, who always burns and is never quenched! O charity, my God, kindle me! You command continency; give what you command, and command what you will.

40. And my whole hope is only in Your exceeding great mercy. Give what You command, and command what You will. Thou imposest continency upon us, nevertheless, when I perceived, says one, that I could not otherwise obtain her, except God gave her me;… that was a point of wisdom also to know whose gift she was. Wisdom 8:21 For by continency are we bound up and brought into one, whence we were scattered abroad into many. For he loves You too little who loves anything with You, which he loves not for You, O love, who ever burnest, and art never quenched! O charity, my God, kindle me! You command continency; give what You command, and command what You will.

You truly command that I should be self-controlled regarding the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. You have commanded me to abstain from sexual relationships outside marriage, and concerning marriage itself, You have recommended something better than what You have permitted. And because You granted it, it was accomplished, even before I became a minister of Your sacrament. But images of such things that my former habits implanted there still exist in my memory—which I have discussed at length. These images invade my thoughts while I am awake, though they are powerless. But in sleep they do so not only to give pleasure, but even to obtain my consent, and they come very close to resembling reality. Indeed, the illusion of these images prevails so strongly in both my soul and my flesh that when sleeping, false visions persuade me to do what true realities cannot persuade me to do when awake. Am I not still myself at that time, O Lord my God? And yet there is such a great difference between myself and myself in that moment when I pass from waking to sleeping or return from sleeping to waking. Where, then, is the reason that resists such suggestions when I am awake? And if these things themselves are forced upon it, I remain unmoved. Is reason shut up with my eyes? Or does it fall asleep along with my bodily senses? But how, then, does it happen that even in sleep we often resist, keeping our purpose in mind and remaining completely chaste in it, yielding no consent to such temptations? And yet there is still such a great difference that when something else happens, upon waking we return to peace of conscience. By this very difference we discover that we were not the ones who did it, though we still feel regret that somehow it was done in us.

41. Verily, You command that I should be continent from the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. You have commanded me to abstain from concubinage; and as to marriage itself, You have advised something better than You have allowed. And because You gave it, it was done; and that before I became a dispenser of Your sacrament. But there still exist in my memory — of which I have spoken much — the images of such things as my habits had fixed there; and these rush into my thoughts, though strengthless, when I am awake; but in sleep they do so not only so as to give pleasure, but even to obtain consent, and what very nearly resembles reality. Yea, to such an extent prevails the illusion of the image, both in my soul and in my flesh, that the false persuade me, when sleeping, unto that which the true are not able when waking. Am I not myself at that time, O Lord my God? And there is yet so much difference between myself and myself, in that instant wherein I pass back from waking to sleeping, or return from sleeping to waking! Where, then, is the reason which when waking resists such suggestions? And if the things themselves be forced on it, I remain unmoved. Is it shut up with the eyes? Or is it put to sleep with the bodily senses? But whence, then, comes it to pass, that even in slumber we often resist, and, bearing our purpose in mind, and continuing most chastely in it, yield no assent to such allurements? And there is yet so much difference that, when it happens otherwise, upon awaking we return to peace of conscience; and by this same diversity do we discover that it was not we that did it, while we still feel sorry that in some way it was done in us.

Can't your hand, Almighty God, heal all the diseases of my soul and quench even the lustful impulses of my sleep through your more abundant grace? You will increase your gifts in me more and more, Lord, so that my soul may follow me to you, freed from the sticky trap of concupiscence. Then it will not rebel against itself, and even in dreams will not commit those deforming acts of corruption through sensual images, leading even to physical pollution, but will not even consent to them. For it is no great thing for the Almighty, who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think, to bring it about that no such influence—not even one so slight that a mere sign could restrain it—should give pleasure to the chaste affection even of someone who is sleeping, and that not only in this life but even at my present age. But what I still am in this kind of evil, I have confessed to my good Lord, rejoicing with trembling in what you have given me and grieving over what remains imperfect in me, trusting that you will complete your mercies in me, even to the fullness of peace, which both what is within and what is without will have with you when death is swallowed up in victory.

42. Is not Your hand able, O Almighty God, to heal all the diseases of my soul, and by Your more abundant grace to quench even the lascivious motions of my sleep? You will increase in me, O Lord, Your gifts more and more, that my soul may follow me to You, disengaged from the bird-lime of concupiscence; that it may not be in rebellion against itself, and even in dreams not simply not, through sensual images, commit those deformities of corruption, even to the pollution of the flesh, but that it may not even consent unto them. For it is no great thing for the Almighty, who is able to do… above all that we ask or think, Ephesians 3:20 to bring it about that no such influence — not even so slight a one as a sign might restrain — should afford gratification to the chaste affection even of one sleeping; and that not only in this life, but at my present age. But what I still am in this species of my ill, have I confessed unto my good Lord; rejoicing with trembling in that which You have given me, and bewailing myself for that wherein I am still imperfect; trusting that You will perfect Your mercies in me, even to the fullness of peace, which both that which is within and that which is without shall have with You, when death is swallowed up in victory. 1 Corinthians 15:54

There is another evil of the day that I wish were sufficient for it. For through eating and drinking we repair the daily losses of the body, until You destroy both food and stomach, when You will end my need with a wonderful fullness, and will clothe this corruptible body with eternal incorruption. But now necessity is pleasant to me, and I fight against this pleasantness so that I will not be enslaved by it. I wage a daily battle through fasting, often bringing my body under control, and my pains are driven out by pleasure. For hunger and thirst are in a sense pains; they wear down and destroy like a fever, unless the medicine of food relieves us. Since this relief is available through the consolation we receive from Your gifts, by which land and water and air serve our weakness, our misery is called pleasure.

43. There is another evil of the day that I would were sufficient unto it. Matthew 6:34 For by eating and drinking we repair the daily decays of the body, until Thou destroyest both food and stomach, when You shall destroy my want with an amazing satiety, and shall clothe this corruptible with an eternal incorruption. 1 Corinthians 15:54 But now is necessity sweet unto me, and against this sweetness do I fight, lest I be enthralled; and I carry on a daily war by fasting, oftentimes bringing my body into subjection, 1 Corinthians 9:27 and my pains are expelled by pleasure. For hunger and thirst are in some sort pains; they consume and destroy like a fever, unless the medicine of nourishment relieve us. The which, since it is at hand through the comfort we receive of Your gifts, with which land and water and air serve our infirmity, our calamity is called pleasure.

You have taught me this much: that I should approach eating food as if it were medicine. But during the time I am moving from the discomfort of hunger to the calm of being satisfied—even in that very transition—the trap of concupiscence lies waiting for me. For the transition itself is pleasurable, and there is no other way to reach that place where necessity compels us to go. And while health is the reason for eating and drinking, a dangerous delight attaches itself as a servant. This delight usually tries to go ahead of health, so that I end up doing for pleasure's sake what I claim I am doing, or want to do, for the sake of health. The two do not have the same limit, because what is enough for health is too little for pleasure. And often it is unclear whether it is the necessary care of the body that still requires food, or whether a sensual trap of desire is offering its services. In this uncertainty my unhappy soul finds satisfaction and prepares an excuse as a defense, glad that it is not obvious what would be enough for the moderation of health, so that under the pretense of health it can hide the pursuit of pleasure. I struggle against these temptations daily, and I call on your right hand to help me, and I bring my stirrings to you, because I still have no settled resolution in this matter.

44. This much have You taught me, that I should bring myself to take food as medicine. But during the time that I am passing from the uneasiness of want to the calmness of satiety, even in the very passage does that snare of concupiscence lie in wait for me. For the passage itself is pleasure, nor is there any other way of passing there, whither necessity compels us to pass. And whereas health is the reason of eating and drinking, there joins itself as an hand-maid a perilous delight, which mostly tries to precede it, in order that I may do for her sake what I say I do, or desire to do, for health's sake. Nor have both the same limit; for what is sufficient for health is too little for pleasure. And oftentimes it is doubtful whether it be the necessary care of the body which still asks nourishment, or whether a sensual snare of desire offers its ministry. In this uncertainty does my unhappy soul rejoice, and therein prepares an excuse as a defense, glad that it does not appear what may be Sufficient for the moderation of health, that so under the pretence of health it may conceal the business of pleasure. These temptations do I daily endeavour to resist, and I summon Your right hand to my help, and refer my excitements to You, because as yet I have no resolve in this matter.

I hear the voice of my God commanding, "Let not your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness." Drunkenness is far from me; You will have mercy, that it not come near me. But surfeiting sometimes creeps upon Your servant; You will have mercy, that it may be far from me. For no one can be continent unless You give it. You give us many things we pray for, and whatever good we receive before we prayed for it, we receive from You, and we receive it from You so that we might afterward know this. I was never a drunkard, but I have known drunkards made sober by You. It was Your doing, then, that those who never were such might not become so, just as it was from You that those who had been so before might not remain so always. And it was from You, too, that both might know from whom it came. I heard another voice of Yours: "Go not after your lusts, but refrain yourself from your appetites." And by Your favor I have heard this saying also, which has delighted me much: "Neither if we eat are we the better, neither if we eat not are we the worse," which means that the one will not make me abound, nor the other make me wretched. I also heard another voice: "For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound… I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me." Behold, a soldier of the heavenly army—not dust as we are! But remember, O Lord, that we are dust, and that from dust You have created man, and he was lost and is found. Nor could he do this by his own power, seeing that he whom I so loved, saying these things through the breath of Your inspiration, was of that same dust. "I can," he says, "do all things through Him which strengthens me." Strengthen me, that I may be able. Give what You command, and command what You will. He confesses to have received, and when he boasts, he boasts in the Lord. I have heard another entreating that he might receive: "Take from me," he says, "the greediness of the belly," by which it appears, O my holy God, that You give when what You command to be done is done.

45. I hear the voice of my God commanding, let not your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunkenness. Luke 21:34 Drunkenness, it is far from me; You will have mercy, that it approach not near unto me. But surfeiting sometimes creeps upon Your servant; You will have mercy, that it may be far from me. For no man can be continent unless Thou give it. Wisdom 8:21 You give us many things which we pray for; and whatever good we receive before we prayed for it, do we receive from You, and that we might afterwards know this did we receive it from You. Drunkard was I never, but I have known drunkards to be made sober men by You. Your doing, then, was it, that they who never were such might not be so, as from You it was that they who have been so heretofore might not remain so always; and from You, too was it, that both might know from whom it was. I heard another voice of Yours, Go not after your lusts, but refrain yourself from your appetites. Sirach 18:30 And by Your favour have I heard this saying likewise, which I have much delighted in, Neither if we eat, are we the better; neither if we eat not, are we the worse; 1 Corinthians 8:8 which is to say, that neither shall the one make me to abound, nor the other to be wretched. I heard also another voice, For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content, I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound… I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me. Philippians 4:11-14 Lo! A soldier of the celestial camp — not dust as we are. But remember, O Lord, that we are dust, and that of dust You have created man; Genesis 3:19 and he was lost, and is found. Luke 15:32 Nor could he do this of his own power, seeing that he whom I so loved, saying these things through the afflatus of Your inspiration, was of that same dust. I can, says he, do all things through Him which strengthens me. Philippians 4:13 Strengthen me, that I may be able. Give what You command, and command what You will. He confesses to have received, and when he glories, he glories in the Lord. 1 Corinthians 1:31 Another have I heard entreating that he might receive — Take from me, says he, the greediness of the belly; Sirach 23:6 by which it appears, O my holy God, that You give when what You command to be done is done.

You have taught me, good Father, that for the pure all things are pure, but it is evil for anyone who eats and causes offense. Every creature you made is good, and nothing should be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving. Food does not commend us to God. No one should judge us in matters of food or drink, and whoever eats should not despise the one who does not eat, and whoever does not eat should not judge the one who eats. I have learned these things—thanks and praise to you, O my God and Master, who knock at my ears and enlighten my heart. Deliver me from all temptation. It is not the uncleanness of food that I fear, but the uncleanness of lust. I know that Noah was given permission to eat every kind of flesh that was good for food, that Elijah was fed with flesh, that John, gifted with remarkable abstinence, was not polluted by the living creatures—the locusts—on which he fed. I also know that Esau was deceived by his craving for lentils, that David blamed himself for desiring water, and that our King was tempted not by flesh but by bread. The people in the wilderness likewise deserved reproof, not because they desired flesh, but because in their desire for food they grumbled against the Lord.

46. You have taught me, good Father, that unto the pure all things are pure; Titus 1:15 but it is evil for that man who eats with offense; Romans 14:20 and that every creature of Yours is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with, thanksgiving; 1 Timothy 4:4 and that meat commends us not to God; 1 Corinthians 8:8 and that no man should judge us in meat or in drink; Colossians 2:16 and that he that eats, let him not despise him that eats not; and let not him that eats not judge him that eats. Romans 13:23 These things have I learned, thanks and praise be unto You, O my God and Master, who dost knock at my ears and enlighten my heart; deliver me out of all temptation. It is not the uncleanness of meat that I fear, but the uncleanness of lusting. I know that permission was granted unto Noah to eat every kind of flesh that was good for food; Genesis 9:3 that Elias was fed with flesh; 1 Kings 17:6 that John, endued with a wonderful abstinence, was not polluted by the living creatures (that is, the locusts Matthew 3:4) which he fed on. I know, too, that Esau was deceived by a longing for lentiles, Genesis 25:34 and that David took blame to himself for desiring water, 2 Samuel 23:15-17 and that our King was tempted not by flesh but bread. Matthew 4:3 And the people in the wilderness, therefore, also deserved reproof, not because they desired flesh, but because, in their desire for food, they murmured against the Lord. Numbers xi

Caught in the middle of these temptations, I struggle daily against cravings for food and drink. This is not something I can simply decide to cut off completely and never touch again, as I was able to do with sexual immorality. The control of the throat must therefore be held at a middle point between being too loose and too tight. And who, O Lord, is not carried away at least somewhat beyond the limits of what is necessary? Whoever that person is, he is great; let him praise your name. But I am not such a person, for I am a sinful man. Yet I also praise your name, and he who has overcome the world intercedes to you for my sins, counting me among the weak members of his body, because your eyes saw what was imperfect in him, and in your book all will be written.

47. Placed, then, in the midst of these temptations, I strive daily against longing for food and drink. For it is not of such a nature as that I am able to resolve to cut it off once for all, and not touch it afterwards, as I was able to do with concubinage. The bridle of the throat, therefore, is to be held in the mean of slackness and tightness. And who, O Lord, is he who is not in some degree carried away beyond the bounds of necessity? Whoever he is, he is great; let him magnify Your name. But I am not such a one, for I am a sinful man. Luke 5:8 Yet do I also magnify Your name; and He who has overcome the world John 16:33 makes intercession to You for my sins, Romans 8:34 accounting me among the feeble members of His body, 1 Corinthians 12:22 because Your eyes saw that of him which was imperfect; and in Your book all shall be written.

With the attractions of scents I am not much troubled. When they are absent I do not seek them; when they are present I do not refuse them; and I am prepared always to be without them. At any rate this is how I appear to myself; perhaps I am deceived. For that too is a lamentable darkness in which my capacity that is within me is concealed, so that my mind, inquiring into itself concerning its own powers, does not venture readily to trust itself; because what is already in it is, for the most part, concealed, unless experience reveals it. And no one ought to feel secure in this life, the whole of which is called a temptation, that he who could be made better from worse may not also be made worse from better. Our sole hope, our sole confidence, our sole assured promise, is Your mercy.

48. With the attractions of odours I am not much troubled. When absent I do not seek them; when present I do not refuse them; and am prepared ever to be without them. At any rate thus I appear to myself; perchance I am deceived. For that also is a lamentable darkness wherein my capacity that is in me is concealed, so that my mind, making inquiry into herself concerning her own powers, ventures not readily to credit herself; because that which is already in it is, for the most part, concealed, unless experience reveal it. And no man ought to feel secure in this life, the whole of which is called a temptation, that he, who could be made better from worse, may not also from better be made worse. Our sole hope, our sole confidence, our sole assured promise, is Your mercy.

The delights of the ear had powerfully ensnared and conquered me, but You have unbound and freed me. Now, when I hear those melodies that Your words breathe life into, sung with a sweet and skilled voice, I find some rest in them—yet not so much that I cling to them, but rather so that I can free myself when I want to. But these melodies, together with the words that give them life, seek a place of honor in my heart in order to gain entry into me, and I can barely give them an appropriate place. Sometimes I seem to give them more respect than is proper, because I notice that our minds are lifted up more devoutly and earnestly into the flame of piety by the holy words themselves when they are sung this way than when they are not sung, and that all the emotions of our spirit have their proper rhythms in the voice and singing according to their own variety, by which they are stirred through some hidden connection. But the pleasure of my flesh, to which the mind should never surrender itself to be weakened, often deceives me. The senses do not follow reason patiently as they should; instead, having been allowed in only for reason's sake, the pleasure of the flesh tries to run ahead and lead. In these matters I sin without knowing it, but afterwards I recognize it.

49. The delights of the ear had more powerfully inveigled and conquered me, but You unbound and liberate me. Now, in those airs which Your words breathe soul into, when sung with a sweet and trained voice, do I somewhat repose; yet not so as to cling to them, but so as to free myself when I wish. But with the words which are their life do they, that they may gain admission into me, strive after a place of some honour in my heart; and I can hardly assign them a fitting one. Sometimes I appear to myself to give them more respect than, is fitting, as I perceive that our minds are more devoutly and earnestly elevated into a flame of piety by the holy words themselves when they are thus sung, than when they are not; and that all affections of our spirit, by their own diversity, have their appropriate measures in the voice and singing, wherewith by I know not what secret relationship they are stimulated. But the gratification of my flesh, to which the mind ought never to be given over to be enervated, often beguiles me, while the sense does not so attend on reason as to follow her patiently; but having gained admission merely for her sake, it strives even to run on before her, and be her leader. Thus in these things do I sin unknowing, but afterwards do I know it.

Sometimes, on the other hand, I am overly strict in trying to avoid this deception, and I go too far in the opposite direction. At times I even wish that all the pleasant melodies used with David's Psalms could be banished from my ears and from the Church itself. The approach that seemed safer to me was the one I often heard attributed to Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, who required the psalm reader to use such a slight vocal inflection that it was more like speaking than singing. However, when I remember the tears I shed at the songs of Your Church when I first recovered my faith, and how even now I am moved not by the singing itself but by the words being sung, when they are sung with a clear and skillfully modulated voice, I recognize the great value of this practice. So I waver between dangerous pleasure and proven soundness, being inclined rather (though I am not making a final judgment on this matter) to approve of the use of singing in church, so that through the delight of the ear, weaker minds may be stirred to a devotional attitude. Yet when it happens that I am more moved by the singing than by what is sung, I confess that I have sinned seriously, and at such times I would rather not have heard the singing. See what condition I am in! Weep with me, and weep for me, you who control your inner feelings in such a way that good results follow. For those of you who do not act this way, these things do not concern you. But You, O Lord my God, listen, look and see, and have mercy on me, and heal me—You, in whose sight I have become a puzzle to myself, and this is my weakness.

50. Sometimes, again, avoiding very earnestly this same deception, I err out of too great preciseness; and sometimes so much as to desire that every air of the pleasant songs to which David's Psalter is often used, be banished both from my ears and those of the Church itself; and that way seemed unto me safer which I remembered to have been often related to me of Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, who obliged the reader of the psalm to give utterance to it with so slight an inflection of voice, that it was more like speaking than singing. Notwithstanding, when I call to mind the tears I shed at the songs of Your Church, at the outset of my recovered faith, and how even now I am moved not by the singing but by what is sung, when they are sung with a clear and skilfully modulated voice, I then acknowledge the great utility of this custom. Thus vacillate I between dangerous pleasure and tried soundness; being inclined rather (though I pronounce no irrevocable opinion upon the subject) to approve of the use of singing in the church, that so by the delights of the ear the weaker minds may be stimulated to a devotional frame. Yet when it happens to me to be more moved by the singing than by what is sung, I confess myself to have sinned criminally, and then I would rather not have heard the singing. See now the condition I am in! Weep with me, and weep for me, you who so control your inward feelings as that good results ensue. As for you who do not thus act, these things concern you not. But You, O Lord my God, give ear, behold and see, and have mercy upon me, and heal me, — Thou, in whose sight I have become a puzzle to myself; and this is my infirmity.

What remains are the pleasures of these physical eyes of mine, about which I make my confession within the hearing of the ears of Your temple—those brotherly and devout ears—and so complete my discussion of the temptations of the lust of the flesh which still attack me, as I groan and long to be clothed with my house from heaven. The eyes take pleasure in beautiful and varied shapes, and in bright and attractive colors. Don't let these things take control of my soul; rather, let God possess it, He who made these things very good indeed. Yet He is my good, not these things. These things affect me while I'm awake during the day, and I'm given no rest from them as I sometimes am from musical sounds in silence, from all of them. For light, that queen of colors, flooding everything we look at, wherever I am during the day, passing by me in countless forms, soothes me when I'm occupied with other things and not paying attention to it. And it works its way in so powerfully that if it's suddenly taken away, I look for it with longing, and if it's absent for a long time, it saddens my mind.

51. There remain the delights of these eyes of my flesh, concerning which to make my confessions in the hearing of the ears of Your temple, those fraternal and devout ears; and so to conclude the temptations of the lust of the flesh 1 John 2:16 which still assail me, groaning and desiring to be clothed upon with my house from heaven. 2 Corinthians 5:2 The eyes delight in fair and varied forms, and bright and pleasing colors. Suffer not these to take possession of my soul; let God rather possess it, He who made these things very good Genesis 1:31 indeed; yet is He my good, not these. And these move me while awake, during the day; nor is rest from them granted me, as there is from the voices of melody, sometimes, in silence, from them all. For that queen of colors, the light, flooding all that we look upon, wherever I be during the day, gliding past me in manifold forms, does soothe me when busied about other things, and not noticing it. And so strongly does it insinuate itself, that if it be suddenly withdrawn it is looked for longingly, and if long absent does sadden the mind.

You are the Light that Tobias saw when, though his physical eyes were closed, he taught his son the way of life, going before him with feet guided by love and never straying. Or the Light that Isaac saw when his bodily eyes were dim and unable to see because of old age—he was permitted not to bless his sons knowingly, but in the act of blessing them to recognize them. Or the Light that Jacob saw when he too was blind from great age but with an enlightened heart. In blessing his own sons, he shed light on the future races of people they prefigured, and he laid his hands in a mystical crossing on his grandchildren through Joseph—not as their father who looked only outwardly would have corrected them, but as he himself inwardly discerned. This is the true Light, the only one, and all who see and love it are one. But that physical light I have been speaking of sweetens the life of this world for its blind lovers with a tempting and deadly pleasure. However, those who know how to praise You for it, O God, the great Builder of the world, take it up in their hymn to You and are not carried away by it in their sleep. I want to be like them. I resist the seductions of the eyes so that my feet, with which I walk on Your path, will not be trapped. I lift my invisible eyes to You, asking that You pull my feet out of the snare. You continually pull them out, because they are constantly being ensnared. You never stop pulling them out, while I constantly remain caught in the traps set all around me—because You who keep Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

52. O Thou Light, which Tobias saw, Tobit iv when, his eyes being closed, he taught his son the way of life; himself going before with the feet of charity, never going astray. Or that which Isaac saw, when his fleshly eyes were dim, so that he could not see Genesis 27:1 by reason of old age; it was permitted him, not knowingly to bless his sons, but in blessing them to know them. Or that which Jacob saw, when he too, blind through great age, with an enlightened heart, in the persons of his own sons, threw light upon the races of the future people, presignified in them; and laid his hands, mystically crossed, upon his grandchildren by Joseph, not as their father, looking outwardly, corrected them, but as he himself distinguished them. Genesis 48:13-19 This is the light, the only one, and all those who see and love it are one. But that corporeal light of which I was speaking seasons the life of the world for her blind lovers, with a tempting and fatal sweetness. But they who know how to praise You for it, O God, the world's great Architect, take it up in Your hymn, and are not taken up with it in their sleep. Such desire I to be. I resist seductions of the eyes, lest my feet with which I advance on Your way be entangled; and I raise my invisible eyes to You, that You would be pleased to pluck my feet out of the net. Thou dost continually pluck them out, for they are ensnared. Thou never ceasest to pluck them out, but I, constantly remain fast in the snares set all around me; because Thou that keepest Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.

Countless things have been made through various arts and crafts—in our clothing, shoes, containers, and every kind of work, in paintings and all sorts of images—and these go far beyond what is necessary, moderate, or serves a holy purpose. People have created these things to captivate the eyes, pursuing outwardly what they make while inwardly abandoning the One who made them, and even destroying what they themselves were made to be. But I, my God and my Joy, sing a hymn to You for this reason as well, and offer a sacrifice of praise to You who make me holy, because those beautiful patterns that pass through human souls into the hands of artists flow from that Beauty which is above our souls—the Beauty my soul longs for day and night. Those who make and admire these outward beauties derive from that source the ability to recognize beauty, but not how to use it rightly. And though they do not see Him, He is there so that they will not go astray but will keep their strength for You instead of wasting it on pleasures that weaken them. And I, though I both say this and understand it, still get tripped up by such beauties, but You rescue me, O Lord, You rescue me, for Your loving-kindness is before my eyes. I am caught miserably, and You rescue me mercifully—sometimes without my even noticing it, because I had encountered these things uncertainly, and at other times with pain, because I was held tightly by them.

53. What numberless things, made by various arts and manufactures, both in our apparel, shoes, vessels, and every kind of work, in pictures, too, and sundry images, and these going far beyond necessary and moderate use and holy signification, have men added for the enthralment of the eyes; following outwardly what they make, forsaking inwardly Him by whom they were made, yea, and destroying that which they themselves were made! But I, O my God and my Joy, do hence also sing a hymn unto You, and offer a sacrifice of praise unto my Sanctifier, because those beautiful patterns, which through the medium of men's souls are conveyed into their artistic hands, emanate from that Beauty which is above our souls, which my soul sighs after day and night. But as for the makers and followers of those outward beauties, they from thence derive the way of approving them, but not of using them. And though they see Him not, yet is He there, that they might not go astray, but keep their strength for You, and not dissipate it upon delicious lassitudes. And I, though I both say and perceive this, impede my course with such beauties, but Thou dost rescue me, O Lord, Thou dost rescue me; for Your loving-kindness is before my eyes. For I am taken miserably, and Thou rescuest me mercifully; sometimes not perceiving it, in that I had come upon them hesitatingly; at other times with pain, because I was held fast by them.

In addition to this, there is another form of temptation that is more complex and dangerous. Beyond the concupiscence of the flesh, which consists in gratifying all the senses and pleasures and in which those enslaved to it perish far from You, there exists in the soul, working through these same bodily senses, a certain empty and curious desire disguised under the name of knowledge and learning. This is not about taking pleasure in the flesh, but about conducting experiments through the flesh. Because this desire springs from an appetite for knowledge, and because sight is the primary sense used in acquiring knowledge, it is called in divine language the lust of the eyes. For seeing properly belongs to the eyes, yet we use this word for the other senses too when we employ them in searching for knowledge. We don't say "Listen how it glows," "Smell how it glistens," "Taste how it shines," or "Feel how it flashes"—all these things are said to be seen. Yet we say not only "See how it shines," which only the eyes can perceive, but also "See how it sounds," "See how it smells," "See how it tastes," "See how hard it is." Thus the general experience of all the senses, as mentioned before, is called the lust of the eyes, because the other senses imitate the function of seeing, in which the eyes excel, whenever they seek out knowledge.

54. In addition to this there is another form of temptation, more complex in its peril. For besides that concupiscence of the flesh which lies in the gratification of all senses and pleasures, wherein its slaves who are far from You perish, there pertains to the soul, through the same senses of the body, a certain vain and curious longing, cloaked under the name of knowledge and learning, not of having pleasure in the flesh, but of making experiments through the flesh. This longing, since it originates in an appetite for knowledge, and the sight being the chief among the senses in the acquisition of knowledge, is called in divine language, the lust of the eyes. 1 John 2:16 For seeing belongs properly to the eyes; yet we apply this word to the other senses also, when we exercise them in the search after knowledge. For we do not say, Listen how it glows, smell how it glistens, taste how it shines, or feel how it flashes, since all these are said to be seen. And yet we say not only, See how it shines, which the eyes alone can perceive; but also, See how it sounds, see how it smells, see how it tastes, see how hard it is. And thus the general experience of the senses, as was said before, is termed the lust of the eyes, because the function of seeing, wherein the eyes hold the pre-eminence, the other senses by way of similitude take possession of, whenever they seek out any knowledge.

The difference between pleasure and curiosity becomes clearer when we observe what the senses pursue. Pleasure seeks out things that are beautiful, melodious, fragrant, tasty, or soft to the touch. But curiosity seeks out the opposite of these things for the sake of experimentation—not because someone wants to experience discomfort, but from a passion for experimenting with and knowing them. What pleasure is there in looking at a mangled corpse, something that makes you shudder? Yet if one lies nearby, people crowd around to be made sad and to turn pale. They even fear seeing it in their sleep. It's as if someone forced them to look at it while awake, or as if some report of its beauty had drawn them there! The same pattern applies to the other senses, but it would be tedious to go through them all. This disease of curiosity is behind all those strange spectacles displayed in the theater. It drives us to investigate the hidden powers of nature, which lies outside our proper purpose—knowledge that profits nothing and which people desire only for the sake of knowing. With this same aim of perverted knowledge, we consult magical arts. And even in religion itself, God is tempted when people eagerly demand signs and wonders from Him—not because they desire any saving purpose, but only to put Him to the test.

55. But by this is it more clearly discerned, when pleasure and when curiosity is pursued by the senses; for pleasure follows after objects that are beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savoury, soft; but curiosity, for experiment's sake, seeks the contrary of these — not with a view of undergoing uneasiness, but from the passion of experimenting upon and knowing them. For what pleasure is there to see, in a lacerated corpse, that which makes you shudder? And yet if it lie near, we flock there, to be made sad, and to turn pale. Even in sleep they fear lest they should see it. Just as if when awake any one compelled them to go and see it, or any report of its beauty had attracted them! Thus also is it with the other senses, which it were tedious to pursue. From this malady of curiosity are all those strange sights exhibited in the theatre. Hence do we proceed to search out the secret powers of nature (which is beside our end), which to know profits not, and wherein men desire nothing but to know. Hence, too, with that same end of perverted knowledge we consult magical arts. Hence, again, even in religion itself, is God tempted, when signs and wonders are eagerly asked of Him — not desired for any saving end, but to make trial only.

In this vast wilderness, filled with traps and dangers, I have cut off and driven out many of them from my heart, as You, O God of my salvation, have given me the power to do. Yet when dare I say—since so many things of this kind swarm around our daily life—when dare I say that nothing like this makes me eager to see it or stirs up empty worry in me? It is true that theaters no longer captivate me, nor do I care anymore to know the paths of the stars, nor has my soul ever consulted the spirits of the dead; I hate all sacrilegious oaths. O Lord my God, to whom I owe all humble and sincere service, with what clever cunning does the enemy tempt me to demand some sign from You! But by our King, and by our pure and holy country Jerusalem, I beg You that just as agreeing to such thoughts is far from me, so may it always be farther and farther away. But when I pray to You for someone's salvation, my purpose is entirely different, and You who do what You will, grant and will grant me the grace to follow You willingly.

56. In this so vast a wilderness, replete with snares and dangers, lo, many of them have I lopped off, and expelled from my heart, as Thou, O God of my salvation, hast enabled me to do. And yet when dare I say, since so many things of this kind buzz around our daily life — when dare I say that no such thing makes me intent to see it, or creates in me vain solicitude? It is true that the theatres never now carry me away, nor do I now care to know the courses of the stars, nor has my soul at any time consulted departed spirits; all sacrilegious oaths I abhor. O Lord my God, to whom I owe all humble and single-hearted service, with what subtlety of suggestion does the enemy influence me to require some sign from You! But by our King, and by our pure land chaste country Jerusalem, I beseech You, that as any consenting unto such thoughts is far from me, so may it always be farther and farther. But when I entreat You for the salvation of any, the end I aim at is far otherwise, and You who do what You will, givest and will give me willingly to follow You. John 21:22

Yet in how many tiny and contemptible things our curiosity is tempted daily, and who can count how often we give in? How often, when people are telling idle stories, do we start by tolerating them so we won't offend the weak, and then gradually we listen willingly! I don't go to the circus nowadays to see a dog chase a hare, but if I happen to pass such a chase in the fields, it may distract me even from some serious thought and draw me after it—not that I turn my animal's body aside, but the inclination of my mind. And unless You quickly warn me by showing me my weakness, either through the sight itself by some reflection to rise to You, or to completely despise and pass it by, I am absorbed by it like a fool. How is it that when sitting at home, a lizard catching flies or a spider entangling them as they rush into her nets often arrests my attention? Isn't the feeling of curiosity the same even though these are such tiny creatures? From them I go on to praise You, the wonderful Creator and Disposer of all things, but this is not what first attracts my attention. It's one thing to get up quickly and another not to fall, and my life is full of such things. My only hope is in Your exceeding great mercy. For when our heart is made the receptacle of such things and bears crowds of this abounding vanity, then our prayers are often interrupted and disturbed by them. And while in Your presence we direct the voice of our heart to Your ears, this so great a matter is broken off by the influx of who knows what idle thoughts.

57. Nevertheless, in how many most minute and contemptible things is our curiosity daily tempted, and who can number how often we succumb? How often, when people are narrating idle tales, do we begin by tolerating them, lest we should give offense unto the weak; and then gradually we listen willingly! I do not now-a-days go to the circus to see a dog chasing a hare; but if by chance I pass such a coursing in the fields, it possibly distracts me even from some serious thought, and draws me after it — not that I turn the body of my beast aside, but the inclination of my mind. And unless You, by demonstrating to me my weakness, speedily warns me, either through the sight itself, by some reflection to rise to You, or wholly to despise and pass it by, I, vain one, am absorbed by it. How is it, when sitting at home, a lizard catching flies, or a spider entangling them as they rush into her nets, oftentimes arrests me? Is the feeling of curiosity not the same because these are such tiny creatures? From them I proceed to praise You, the wonderful Creator and Disposer of all things; but it is not this that first attracts my attention. It is one thing to get up quickly, and another not to fall, and of such things is my life full; and my only hope is in Your exceeding great mercy. For when this heart of ours is made the receptacle of such things, and bears crowds of this abounding vanity, then are our prayers often interrupted and disturbed thereby; and while in Your presence we direct the voice of our heart to Your ears, this so great a matter is broken off by the influx of I know not what idle thoughts.

Shall we then consider this also among things to be lightly esteemed, or shall anything restore us to hope, except Your complete mercy, since You have begun to change us? And You know how much You have already changed me, You who first healed me of the desire to justify myself, so that You might forgive all my remaining sins, and heal all my diseases, and redeem my life from corruption, and crown me with loving-kindness and tender mercies, and satisfy my desire with good things; who restrained my pride with Your fear, and brought my neck under Your yoke. And now I bear it, and it is light to me, because You promised this and made it so, and it truly was so, though I did not know it when I feared to take it up. But, O Lord—You who alone reign without pride, because You are the only true Lord, who has no lord—has this third kind of temptation left me, or can it leave me during this life?

58. Shall we, then, account this too among such things as are to be lightly esteemed, or shall anything restore us to hope, save Your complete mercy, since You have begun to change us? And You know to what extent You have already changed me, Thou who first healest me of the lust of vindicating myself, that so You might forgive all my remaining iniquities, and heal all my diseases, and redeem my life from corruption, and crown me with loving-kindness and tender mercies, and satisfy my desire with good things; who restrained my pride with Your fear, and subdue my neck to Your yoke. And now I bear it, and it is light Matthew 11:30 unto me, because so have You promised, and made it, and so in truth it was, though I knew it not, when I feared to take it up. But, O Lord, — Thou who alone reign without pride, because You are the only true Lord, who hast no lord — has this third kind of temptation left me, or can it leave me during this life?

The desire to be feared and loved by people, with no other purpose than to experience a pleasure in it that is not real pleasure, is a miserable life and an unseemly display of vanity. This is especially where it comes from that we do not love You or devoutly fear You. And therefore You resist the proud, but give grace to the humble, and You thunder upon the ambitious plans of the world, and the foundations of the mountains tremble. Because certain roles in human society now make it necessary to be loved and feared by people, the adversary of our true blessedness presses hard upon us, scattering his snares of "well done, well done" everywhere, so that while we eagerly seek these praises, we may be caught off guard and separate our joy from Your truth, fixing it instead on the deceits of people. We then take pleasure in being loved and feared, not for Your sake, but in Your place. By this means, being made like him, he may have them as his own, not in harmony of love, but in the fellowship of punishment—he who aspired to exalt his throne in the north, so that dark and cold they might serve him, imitating You in perverse and distorted ways. But we, O Lord, look, we are Your little flock. Possess us, stretch Your wings over us, and let us take refuge under them. Be our glory. Let us be loved for Your sake, and Your word feared in us. Those who desire to be commended by people when You blame them will not be defended by people when You judge, nor will they be delivered when You condemn. But when it is not the sinner being praised in the desires of his soul, nor the one blessed who does unjustly, but a man is praised for some gift that You have given him, and he is more gratified at the praise for himself than that he possesses the gift for which he is praised, such a person is praised while You blame. And truly better is the one who praised than the one who was praised. For the gift of God in man was pleasing to the one, while the other was better pleased with the gift of man than that of God.

59. The desire to be feared and loved of men, with no other view than that I may experience a joy therein which is no joy, is a miserable life, and unseemly ostentation. Hence especially it arises that we do not love You, nor devoutly fear You. And therefore You resist the proud, but givest grace unto the humble; James 4:6 and You thunder upon the ambitious designs of the world, and the foundations of the hills tremble. Because now certain offices of human society render it necessary to be loved and feared of men, the adversary of our true blessedness presses hard upon us, everywhere scattering his snares of well done, well done; that while acquiring them eagerly, we may be caught unawares, and disunite our joy from Your truth, and fix it on the deceits of men; and take pleasure in being loved and feared, not for Your sake, but in Your stead, by which means, being made like him, he may have them as his, not in harmony of love, but in the fellowship of punishment; who aspired to exalt his throne in the north, Isaiah 14:13-14 that dark and cold they might serve him, imitating You in perverse and distorted ways. But we, O Lord, lo, we are Your little flock; Luke 12:32 do Thou possess us, stretch Your wings over us, and let us take refuge under them. Be Thou our glory; let us be loved for Your sake, and Your word feared in us. They who desire to be commended of men when Thou blamest, will not be defended of men when You judge; nor will they be delivered when You condemn. But when not the sinner is praised in the desires of his soul, nor he blessed who does unjustly, but a man is praised for some gift that You have bestowed upon him, and he is more gratified at the praise for himself, than that he possesses the gift for which he is praised, such a one is praised while Thou blamest. And better truly is he who praised than the one who was praised. For the gift of God in man was pleasing to the one, while the other was better pleased with the gift of man than that of God.

By these temptations, O Lord, we are tested daily—yes, we are tested constantly. The human tongue is our daily furnace. In this matter too, You command us to be continent. Give what You command, and command what You will. Concerning this, You know the groans of my heart and the rivers of my eyes. For I cannot determine how far I am free from this plague, and I stand in great fear of my secret faults, which Your eyes perceive though mine do not. In other kinds of temptations I have some ability to examine myself, but in this one, hardly any. Regarding the pleasures of the flesh and idle curiosity, I can see how far I have been able to control my mind when I do without them, either by choice or because they are not available; then I can ask myself how much more or less difficult it is for me to be without them. As for riches, which are sought to serve one, two, or all three of these lusts—if the mind cannot see clearly whether it despises them when it has them, they can be set aside so that the mind may test itself. But if we want to test our ability to do without praise, must we live badly, and so wickedly and excessively that everyone who knows us will hate us? What greater madness than this can be said or imagined? But if praise normally is and ought to be the companion of a good life and good works, we should no more give up its companionship than we should give up the good life itself. Yet unless something is absent, I do not know whether I will be content or troubled by being without it.

60. By these temptations, O Lord, are we daily tried; yea, unceasingly are we tried. Our daily furnace is the human tongue. And in this respect also do You command us to be continent. Give what You command, and command what You will. Regarding this matter, You know the groans of my heart, and the rivers Lamentations 3:48 of my eyes. For I am not able to ascertain how far I am clean of this plague, and I stand in great fear of my secret faults, which Your eyes perceive, though mine do not. For in other kinds of temptations I have some sort of power of examining myself; but in this, hardly any. For, both as regards the pleasures of the flesh and an idle curiosity, I see how far I have been able to hold my mind in check when I do without them, either voluntarily or by reason of their not being at hand; for then I inquire of myself how much more or less troublesome it is to me not to have them. Riches truly which are sought for in order that they may minister to some one of these three lusts, or to two, or the whole of them, if the mind be not able to see clearly whether, when it has them, it despises them, they may be cast on one side, that so it may prove itself. But if we desire to test our power of doing without praise, need we live ill, and that so flagitiously and immoderately as that every one who knows us shall detest us? What greater madness than this can be either said or conceived? But if praise both is wont and ought to be the companion of a good life and of good works, we should as little forego its companionship as a good life itself. But unless a thing be absent, I do not know whether I shall be contented or troubled at being without it.

So what am I confessing to You, Lord, about this kind of temptation? Simply this: I do find pleasure in praise, but I take more pleasure in the truth itself than in praise. If I had to choose between being completely insane or totally wrong about everything but praised by everyone, or being firm and certain in the truth but blamed by everyone, I know which I would choose. Yet I can't deny that I wish the approval of others didn't add to my joy over any good thing I have. But I admit it does increase my joy, and what's more, criticism does diminish it. When I'm troubled by this wretchedness of mine, an excuse comes to mind—though You, God, know its real value—which leaves me uncertain. You have commanded us not only to practice continency, that is, to hold back our love from certain things, but also righteousness, that is, to bestow our love on the right things. You have wanted us to love not only You but also our neighbor. Often when I'm pleased by intelligent praise, I seem to myself to be pleased by my neighbor's progress or aptitude, and conversely to be sorry when there is evil in him, especially when I hear him criticize either what he doesn't understand or what is actually good. Sometimes I'm troubled by my own praise, either when people praise things in me that I'm unhappy about in myself, or when lesser and trivial goods are valued more highly than they should be. But then again, how do I know whether I feel this way because I don't want the person praising me to have a different opinion of me than I have of myself—not because I'm concerned for him, but because the same good things that please me in myself are even more pleasing to me when they also please someone else? In a sense, I'm not really being praised when my own judgment of myself isn't being praised; whether it's because things I dislike about myself are being praised, or because things less pleasing to me are being praised more than they should be. So am I uncertain about myself in this matter?

61. What, then, do I confess unto You, O Lord, in this kind of temptation? What, save that I am delighted with praise, but more with the truth itself than with praise? For were I to have my choice, whether I had rather, being mad, or astray on all things, be praised by all men, or, being firm and well-assured in the truth, be blamed by all, I see which I should choose. Yet would I be unwilling that the approval of another should even add to my joy for any good I have. Yet I admit that it does increase it, and, more than that, that dispraise does diminish it. And when I am disquieted at this misery of mine, an excuse presents itself to me, the value of which Thou, God, know, for it renders me uncertain. For since it is not continency alone that You have enjoined upon us, that is, from what things to hold back our love, but righteousness also, that is, upon what to bestow it, and hast wished us to love not You only, but also our neighbour, — often, when gratified by intelligent praise, I appear to myself to be gratified by the proficiency or towardliness of my neighbour, and again to be sorry for evil in him when I hear him dispraise either that which he understands not, or is good. For I am sometimes grieved at my own praise, either when those things which I am displeased at in myself be praised in me, or even lesser and trifling goods are more valued than they should be. But, again, how do I know whether I am thus affected, because I am unwilling that he who praises me should differ from me concerning myself — not as being moved with consideration for him, but because the same good things which please me in myself are more pleasing to me when they also please another? For, in a sort, I am not praised when my judgment of myself is not praised; since either those things which are displeasing to me are praised, or those more so which are less pleasing to me. Am I then uncertain of myself in this matter?

Look, O Truth, I see in You that I should not be moved by praise of myself for my own sake, but for the good of my neighbor. And whether this is truly the case, I honestly don't know. For about this I know less of myself than You do. I now beg You, my God, to reveal myself to me as well, so that I may confess to my brothers who are to pray for me what weakness I find in myself. Let me examine myself again, more carefully. If I am moved by praise of myself out of consideration for my neighbor, why am I less moved when some other person is unjustly criticized than when it is myself? Why am I more irritated by a reproach cast upon myself than by one cast with equal injustice upon another person in my presence? Am I ignorant of this too? Or is it that I still deceive myself and do not practice the truth before You in my heart and tongue? Put such madness far from me, O Lord, so that my mouth will not be to me the oil of sinners to anoint my head.

62. Behold, O Truth, in You do I see that I ought not to be moved at my own praises for my own sake, but for my neighbour's good. And whether it be so, in truth I know not. For concerning this I know less of myself than do You. I beseech You now, O my God, to reveal to me myself also, that I may confess unto my brethren, who are to pray for me, what I find in myself weak. Once again let me more diligently examine myself. If, in my own praise, I am moved with consideration for my neighbour, why am I less moved if some other man be unjustly dispraised than if it be myself? Why am I more irritated at that reproach which is cast upon myself, than at that which is with equal injustice cast upon another in my presence? Am I ignorant of this also? Or does it remain that I deceive myself, Galatians 6:3 and do not the truth 1 John 1:8 before You in my heart and tongue? Put such madness far from me, O Lord, lest my mouth be to me the oil of sinners, to anoint my head.

I am poor and needy, yet I am better off while in secret groanings I am displeased with myself and seek Your mercy, until what is lacking in me is renewed and made complete, even up to that peace which the eye of the proud does not know. Yet the word that comes out of the mouth, and actions known to other people, bring a very dangerous temptation from the love of praise. This love gathers together approval that we seek out, in order to establish a certain excellence of our own. It tempts me even when I inwardly reprove myself for it, on the very basis that I am reproving it. Often a person boasts even more vainly about scorning vain-glory itself. Therefore it is no longer really scorn of vain-glory that he boasts about, for he does not truly despise it when he inwardly takes pride in it.

63. I am poor and needy, yet better am I while in secret groanings I displease myself, and seek for Your mercy, until what is lacking in me be renewed and made complete, even up to that peace of which the eye of the proud is ignorant. Yet the word which proceeds out of the mouth, and actions known to men, have a most dangerous temptation from the love of praise, which, for the establishing of a certain excellency of our own, gathers together solicited suffrages. It tempts, even when within I reprove myself for it, on the very ground that it is reproved; and often man glories more vainly of the very scorn of vain- glory; wherefore it is not any longer scorn of vain- glory whereof it glories, for he does not truly contemn it when he inwardly glories.

There is also another evil within, within me, arising from the same kind of temptation. People become empty who take pleasure in themselves, even though they do not please others, or actually displease them, or do not aim to please them at all. But in pleasing themselves, they greatly displease You—not only by taking pleasure in things that are not good as if they were good, but also by taking pleasure in Your good things as though these were their own. Or even if they acknowledge these as Yours, they act as though they possess them through their own merits. Or even if they admit these come from Your grace, they do not rejoice in this grace with a generous spirit, but instead envy that same grace when given to others. In all these and similar dangers and struggles, You see the trembling of my heart, and I feel more keenly that my wounds are healed by You than that they were not inflicted by me.

64. Within also, within is another evil, arising out of the same kind of temptation; whereby they become empty who please themselves in themselves, although they please not, or displease, or aim at pleasing others. But in pleasing themselves, they much displease You, not merely taking pleasure in things not good as if they were good, but in Your good things as though they were their own; or even as if in Yours, yet as though of their own merits; or even as if though of Your grace, yet not with friendly rejoicings, but as envying that grace to others. In all these and similar perils and labours Thou perceivest the trembling of my heart, and I rather feel my wounds to be cured by You than not inflicted by me.

Where have You not accompanied me, O Truth, teaching me both what to avoid and what to desire, when I brought to You what I could understand of earthly things and asked for Your guidance? Using my external senses as best I could, I observed the world and noticed the life that my body receives from me, along with these senses of mine. From there I went inward into the depths of my memory—those countless chambers, amazingly filled with abundant riches. I examined them and was in awe, and I could understand none of these things without You, and I found that none of them were You. Nor was I myself the one who discovered these things—I, who examined them all and worked to distinguish and evaluate everything according to its importance, accepting some things based on what my senses reported, questioning others that I felt were mixed up with my own self, identifying and counting the senses themselves as reporters, and in the vast storeroom of my memory examining some things, storing others, and retrieving others. I was not myself when I did this (that is, the ability I have by which I did it), nor was it You, for You are that unfailing light I consulted about all these things—whether they were what they were, and what their value was. And I heard You teaching and commanding me. I do this often; it is a delight to me, and whenever I can get relief from necessary duties, I turn to this pleasure. Yet in all these things that I examine when consulting You, I find no safe place for my soul except in You, where my scattered parts may be gathered together and nothing of me may depart from You. And sometimes You bring me to a very rare feeling, deep within, to an indescribable sweetness, which, if it were perfected in me, I do not know what heights that life might reach. But through these miserable burdens of mine I fall back into these things, and am drawn in by my old habits, and am held fast, and I grieve greatly, yet I am still held fast. This is how heavily the weight of habit presses down on us. In this way I am able to be, but do not will it; in that other way I will, but cannot—miserable in both ways.

65. Where have You not accompanied me, O Truth, teaching me both what to avoid and what to desire, when I submitted to You what I could perceive of sublunary things, and asked Your counsel? With my external senses, as I could, I viewed the world, and noted the life which my body derives from me, and these my senses. Thence I advanced inwardly into the recesses of my memory, — the manifold rooms, wondrously full of multitudinous wealth; and I considered and was afraid, and could discern none of these things without You, and found none of them to be You. Nor was I myself the discoverer of these things — I, who went over them all, and laboured to distinguish and to value everything according to its dignity, accepting some things upon the report of my senses, and questioning about others which I felt to be mixed up with myself, distinguishing and numbering the reporters themselves, and in the vast storehouse of my memory investigating some things, laying up others, taking out others. Neither was I myself when I did this (that is, that ability of mine whereby I did it), nor was it Thou, for You are that never-failing light which I took counsel of as to them all, whether they were what they were, and what was their worth; and I heard You teaching and commanding me. And this I do often; this is a delight to me, and, as far as I can get relief from necessary duties, to this gratification do I resort. Nor in all these which I review when consulting You, find I a secure place for my soul, save in You, into whom my scattered members may be gathered together, and nothing of me depart from You. And sometimes Thou dost introduce me to a most rare affection, inwardly, to an inexplicable sweetness, which, if it should be perfected in me, I know not to what point that life might not arrive. But by these wretched weights Hebrews 12:1 of mine do I relapse into these things, and am sucked in by my old customs, and am held, and sorrow much, yet am much held. To such an extent does the burden of habit press us down. In this way I can be, but will not; in that I will, but cannot — on both ways miserable.

And so I have thought about the exhausting burdens of my sins in that threefold lust, and I have called upon Your right hand to help me. For with a wounded heart I have seen Your brightness, and being driven back I cried out, Who can reach it? I am cut off from before Your eyes. You are the Truth, who rules over all things, but I, through my greed, did not want to lose You, yet along with You I wanted to possess a lie—just as no one wants to speak falsely in such a way that he himself remains ignorant of the truth. So then I lost You, because You do not consent to be enjoyed together with a lie.

66. And thus have I reflected upon the wearinesses of my sins, in that threefold lust, and have invoked Your right hand to my aid. For with a wounded heart have I seen Your brightness, and being beaten back I exclaimed, Who can attain unto it? I am cut off from before Your eyes. You are the Truth, who presidest over all things, but I, through my covetousness, wished not to lose You, but with You wished to possess a lie; as no one wishes so to speak falsely as himself to be ignorant of the truth. So then I lost You, because Thou deignest not to be enjoyed with a lie.

Who could I find to reconcile me to You? Should I approach the angels? Through what prayer? Through what sacraments? Many people trying to return to You, and unable to do so by themselves, have, as I'm told, attempted this and have fallen into a desire for strange visions, and were considered worthy to be deceived. For they, being proud, sought You through the arrogance of learning, pushing themselves forward rather than beating their breasts in humility, and so by the correspondence of their hearts drew to themselves the princes of the air, the conspirators and companions in pride, by whom, through the power of magic, they were deceived, seeking a mediator by whom they might be cleansed; but there was none. For it was the devil, transforming himself into an angel of light. And he greatly attracted proud flesh, because he had no fleshly body. For they were mortal and sinful; but You, O Lord, to whom they arrogantly sought to be reconciled, are immortal and sinless. But a mediator between God and man ought to have something like God and something like man; otherwise, being in both respects like man, he would be far from God; or if in both respects like God, he would be far from man, and so would not be a mediator. That deceitful mediator, then, by whom in Your secret judgments pride deserved to be deceived, has one thing in common with man, that is, sin; another thing he would appear to have with God, and, not being clothed with mortal flesh, would boast that he was immortal. But since the wages of sin is death, this he has in common with men, that together with them he should be condemned to death.

67. Whom could I find to reconcile me to You? Was I to solicit the angels? By what prayer? By what sacraments? Many striving to return unto You, and not able of themselves, have, as I am told, tried this, and have fallen into a longing for curious visions, and were held worthy to be deceived. For they, being exalted, sought You by the pride of learning, thrusting themselves forward rather than beating their breasts, and so by correspondence of heart drew unto themselves the princes of the air, Ephesians 2:2 the conspirators and companions in pride, by whom, through the power of magic, they were deceived, seeking a mediator by whom they might be cleansed; but none was there. For the devil it was, transforming himself into an angel of light. 2 Corinthians 11:14 And he much allured proud flesh, in that he had no fleshly body. For they were mortal, and sinful; but Thou, O Lord, to whom they arrogantly sought to be reconciled, art immortal, and sinless. But a mediator between God and man ought to have something like God, and something like man; lest being in both like man, he should be far from God; or if in both like God, he should be far from man, and so should not be a mediator. That deceitful mediator, then, by whom in Your secret judgments pride deserved to be deceived, has one thing in common with man, that is, sin; another he would appear to have with God, and, not being clothed with mortality of flesh, would boast that he was immortal. But since the wages of sin is death, Romans 6:23 this has he in common with men, that together with them he should be condemned to death.

But the true Mediator, whom in Your secret mercy You revealed to the humble and sent so that by His example they might also learn the same humility—that Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, appeared between mortal sinners and the immortal Just One. He was mortal with men and just with God, so that because the reward of righteousness is life and peace, He might, through righteousness joined with God, abolish the death of justified sinners—a death He chose to share with them. Therefore He was revealed to the holy men of old, so that they might be saved through faith in His Passion to come, just as we are saved through faith in what has already happened. For as man He was Mediator, but as the Word He was not between, because He was equal to God, and God with God, and together with the Holy Spirit one God.

68. But the true Mediator, whom in Your secret mercy You have pointed out to the humble, and sent, that by His example also they might learn the same humility — that Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, 1 Timothy 2:5 appeared between mortal sinners and the immortal Just One — mortal with men, just with God; that because the reward of righteousness is life and peace, He might, by righteousness conjoined with God, cancel the death of justified sinners, which He willed to have in common with them. Hence He was pointed out to holy men of old; to the intent that they, through faith in His Passion to come, even as we through faith in that which is past, might be saved. For as man He was Mediator; but as the Word He was not between, because equal to God, and God with God, and together with the Holy Spirit one God.

How have You loved us, O good Father, who did not spare Your only Son, but handed Him over for us wicked ones! How have You loved us, for whom He, who did not consider equality with You something to be grasped, became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross; He alone free among the dead, who had power to lay down His life and power to take it up again; for us He was to You both Victor and Victim, and the Victor because He was the Victim; for us He was to You both Priest and Sacrifice, and Priest because He was the Sacrifice; making us Your sons from being slaves, by being born of You and serving us. Rightly, then, my hope is firmly fixed on Him, that You will heal all my diseases through Him who sits at Your right hand and intercedes for us; otherwise I would completely despair. For my infirmities are numerous and great, yes, numerous and great they are; but Your medicine is greater. We might have thought that Your Word was distant from union with humanity, and we might have despaired of ourselves, had He not been made flesh and dwelt among us.

69. How have You loved us, O good Father, who spared not Your only Son, but delivered Him up for us wicked ones! How have You loved us, for whom He, who thought it no robbery to be equal with You, became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross; Philippians 2:6, 8 He alone free among the dead, that had power to lay down His life, and power to take it again; John 10:18 for us was He unto You both Victor and Victim, and the Victor as being the Victim; for us was He unto You both Priest and Sacrifice, and Priest as being the Sacrifice; of slaves making us Your sons, by being born of You, and serving us. Rightly, then, is my hope strongly fixed on Him, that You will heal all my diseases by Him who sits at Your right hand and makes intercession for us; Romans 8:34 else should I utterly despair. For numerous and great are my infirmities, yea, numerous and great are they; but Your medicine is greater. We might think that Your Word was removed from union with man, and despair of ourselves had He not been made flesh and dwelt among us. John 1:14

Terrified by my sins and the burden of my misery, I had decided in my heart and planned to flee into the wilderness; but You forbade me and strengthened me, saying, "Therefore Christ died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him which died for them." Behold, O Lord, I cast my care upon You, that I may live, and see wondrous things out of Your law. You know my lack of skill and my weaknesses; teach me, and heal me. Your only Son—He in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge—has redeemed me with His blood. Let not the proud speak evil of me, because I think about my ransom, and eat and drink, and distribute; and being poor, I desire to be satisfied from Him, together with those who eat and are satisfied, and they praise the Lord who seek Him.

70. Terrified by my sins and the load of my misery, I had resolved in my heart, and meditated flight into the wilderness; but You forbade me, and strengthened me, saying, therefore, Christ died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him which died for them. 2 Corinthians 5:15 Behold, O Lord, I cast my care upon You, that I may live, and behold wondrous things out of Your law. You know my unskilfulness and my infirmities; teach me, and heal me. Your only Son — He in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge — has redeemed me with His blood. Let not the proud speak evil of me, because I consider my ransom, and eat and drink, and distribute; and poor, desire to be satisfied from Him, together with those who eat and are satisfied, and they praise the Lord that seek him.

O Lord, truly I am Your servant; I am Your servant, and the son of Your handmaid: You have loosed my bonds. I will offer to You the sacrifice of thanksgiving. Let my heart and my tongue praise You, and let all my bones say, Lord, who is like You? Let them say this, and answer me, and say to my soul, I am Your salvation. Who am I, and what is my nature? How evil my deeds have been; or if not my deeds, my words; or if not my words, my will? But You, O Lord, are good and merciful, and Your right hand reached down into the depth of my death and removed from the bottom of my heart that abyss of corruption. The result was this: I stopped willing to do what I had willed, and willed to do what You willed. But where, during all those years, and from what deep and secret place was my free will summoned forth in a moment, so that I gave my neck to Your easy yoke and my shoulders to Your light burden, O Christ Jesus, my strength and my Redeemer? How sweet it suddenly became to me to be without the delights of trivial things! And what I once feared to lose, I now found joy in putting away. For You cast them away from me, You true and highest sweetness. You cast them away, and in their place You entered in Yourself—sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood; brighter than all light, but more hidden than all mysteries; more exalted than all honor, but not to those exalted in their own pride. Now my soul was free from the gnawing cares of seeking and getting, and of wallowing in and stirring up the itch of lust. And I spoke to You my brightness, my riches, and my health, the Lord my God.

1. O Lord, truly I am Your servant; I am Your servant, and the son of Your handmaid: You have loosed my bonds. I will offer to You the sacrifice of thanksgiving. Let my heart and my tongue praise You, and let all my bones say, Lord, who is like You? Let them so say, and answer Thou me, and say unto my soul, I am Your salvation. Who am I, and what is my nature? How evil have not my deeds been; or if not my deeds, my words; or if not my words, my will? But You, O Lord, art good and merciful, and Your right hand had respect unto the profoundness of my death, and removed from the bottom of my heart that abyss of corruption. And this was the result, that I willed not to do what I willed, and willed to do what you willed. But where, during all those years, and out of what deep and secret retreat was my free will summoned forth in a moment, whereby I gave my neck to Your easy yoke, and my shoulders to Your light burden, Matthew 11:30 O Christ Jesus, my strength and my Redeemer? How sweet did it suddenly become to me to be without the delights of trifles! And what at one time I feared to lose, it was now a joy to me to put away. For Thou cast them away from me, Thou true and highest sweetness. Thou cast them away, and instead of them entered in Yourself, — sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood; brighter than all light, but more veiled than all mysteries; more exalted than all honour, but not to the exalted in their own conceits. Now was my soul free from the gnawing cares of seeking and getting, and of wallowing and exciting the itch of lust. And I babbled unto You my brightness, my riches, and my health, the Lord my God.

And it seemed good to me, as before You, not to abruptly abandon, but gently to withdraw the service of my tongue from the profession of public speaking; so that the young people, who did not think about Your law or Your peace, but about lying vanities and legal disputes, might no longer buy from my mouth weapons for their aggression. And conveniently there were only a few days remaining until the Vintage vacation; and I decided to endure them, so that I might leave in the customary manner, and, being redeemed by You, no longer return to be sold. Our intention then was known to You; but to other people—except our own friends—it was not known. For we had decided among ourselves not to let it spread to anyone; although You had given to us, ascending from the valley of tears and singing the song of degrees, sharp arrows and destroying coals, against the deceitful tongue, which while giving counsel opposes, and while showing love consumes, as it does with its food.

2. And it seemed good to me, as before You, not tumultuously to snatch away, but gently to withdraw the service of my tongue from the talker's trade; that the young, who thought not on Your law, nor on Your peace, but on mendacious follies and forensic strifes, might no longer purchase at my mouth equipments for their vehemence. And opportunely there wanted but a few days unto the Vacation of the Vintage; and I determined to endure them, in order to leave in the usual way, and, being redeemed by You, no more to return for sale. Our intention then was known to You; but to men — excepting our own friends — was it not known. For we had determined among ourselves not to let it get abroad to any; although You had given to us, ascending from the valley of tears, and singing the song of degrees, sharp arrows, and destroying coals, against the deceitful tongue, which in giving counsel opposes, and in showing love consumes, as it is wont to do with its food.

You had pierced our hearts with Your love, and we carried Your words fixed, as it were, in our inmost being. The examples of Your servant, whom You had made bright from black and alive from dead, filled our thoughts and burned away our sluggish indifference, keeping us from falling into the pit. They set us on fire so intensely that every attack from a deceitful opponent would only inflame us more, not put out our fire. Nevertheless, because this vow and plan of ours might also find people to praise it for the sake of Your name, which You have made holy throughout the earth, it would look like self-promotion not to wait for the vacation, which was now so close, but to quit beforehand a public position that was widely observed. Then everyone who saw what I was doing, seeing how close the time of rest was that I wanted to jump ahead of, would talk a great deal about me as if I were trying to make myself look important. And what good would it do for people to think about and debate my motives, and for our good to be spoken of as evil?

3. You had penetrated our hearts with Your charity, and we carried Your words fixed, as it were, in our bowels; and the examples of Your servant, whom of black You had made bright, and of dead, alive, crowded in the bosom of our thoughts, burned and consumed our heavy torpor, that we might not topple into the abyss; and they enkindled us exceedingly, that every breath of the deceitful tongue of the gainsayer might inflame us the more, not extinguish us. Nevertheless, because for Your name's sake which You have sanctified throughout the earth, this, our vow and purpose, might also find commenders, it looked like a vaunting of oneself not to wait for the vacation, now so near, but to leave beforehand a public profession, and one, too, under general observation; so that all who looked on this act of mine, and saw how near was the vintage-time I desired to anticipate, would talk of me a great deal as if I were trying to appear to be a great person. And what purpose would it serve that people should consider and dispute about my intention, and that our good should be evil spoken of? Romans 14:16

Furthermore, that very summer, my lungs began to grow weak from too much work in teaching. I had difficulty taking deep breaths, pains in my chest showed that my lungs were damaged, and they could no longer handle loud or extended speaking. At first this troubled me, because it forced me to give up my teaching position—or at least to take a break from it if I could recover and regain my strength. But when the full desire for rest arose in me—so that I might see that You are the Lord—and became firmly established, my God, You know I even began to feel glad that I had this excuse ready. And it was not a fake excuse either, which might somewhat soften the offense taken by those who, for their sons' sake, wanted me never to have the freedom that comes with being Your son. Filled with this kind of joy, I endured that period of time until it passed—perhaps it was about twenty days. These were bravely endured, because the greed that used to help me carry part of this heavy work had left me, and I would have been completely overwhelmed if patience had not taken its place. Some of Your servants, my brothers, may perhaps say that I sinned in this—that once I had fully and wholeheartedly entered Your service, I still allowed myself to sit even a single hour in the seat of falsehood. I will not argue. But have You not, O most merciful Lord, pardoned and forgiven this sin as well, along with my other sins so horrible and deadly, in the holy water?

4. Furthermore, this very summer, from too great literary labour, my lungs began to be weak, and with difficulty to draw deep breaths; showing by the pains in my chest that they were affected, and refusing too loud or prolonged speaking. This had at first been a trial to me, for it compelled me almost of necessity to lay down that burden of teaching; or, if I could be cured and become strong again, at least to leave it off for a while. But when the full desire for leisure, that I might see that You are the Lord, arose, and was confirmed in me, my God, You know I even began to rejoice that I had this excuse ready — and that not a feigned one — which might somewhat temper the offense taken by those who for their sons' good wished me never to have the freedom of sons. Full, therefore, with such joy, I bore it till that period of time had passed — perhaps it was some twenty days — yet they were bravely borne; for the cupidity which was wont to sustain part of this weighty business had departed, and I had remained overwhelmed had not its place been supplied by patience. Some of Your servants, my brethren, may perchance say that I sinned in this, in that having once fully, and from my heart, entered on Your warfare, I permitted myself to sit a single hour in the seat of falsehood. I will not contend. But hast not Thou, O most merciful Lord, pardoned and remitted this sin also, with my others, so horrible and deadly, in the holy water?

Verecundus was consumed with worry about our happiness, because he was firmly bound by his circumstances and saw that he would lose our companionship. He was not yet a Christian, though his wife was one of the faithful, and this fact chained him more firmly than anything else, holding him back from the journey we had begun. He said he didn't want to become a Christian except on certain terms that were impossible for him. Still, he graciously invited us to use his country house for as long as we stayed there. Lord, You will reward him for this at the resurrection of the just, since You have already given him the destiny of the righteous. Though we were away in Rome when he was struck by physical illness, and in that illness became a Christian and one of the faithful before he died, You had mercy not only on him but also on us. Otherwise, remembering our friend's extraordinary kindness to us and unable to count him among Your flock, we would have been tortured with unbearable grief. Thanks be to You, our God, we are Yours. Your encouragements, comforts, and faithful promises assure us that You are now repaying Verecundus for that country house at Cassiacum, where we found rest in You from the fever of the world, with the eternal freshness of Your Paradise, because You have forgiven him his earthly sins, in that mountain flowing with milk, that fruitful mountain—Your own.

5. Verecundus was wasted with anxiety at that our happiness, since he, being most firmly held by his bonds, saw that he would lose our fellowship. For he was not yet a Christian, though his wife was one of the faithful; and yet hereby, being more firmly enchained than by anything else, was he held back from that journey which we had commenced. Nor, he declared, did he wish to be a Christian on any other terms than those that were impossible. However, he invited us most courteously to make use of his country house so long as we should stay there. You, O Lord, will recompense him for this at the resurrection of the just, Luke 14:14 seeing that You have already given him the lot of the righteous. For although, when we were absent at Rome, he, being overtaken with bodily sickness, and therein being made a Christian, and one of the faithful, departed this life, yet had Thou mercy on him, and not on him only, but on us also; Philippians 2:27 lest, thinking on the exceeding kindness of our friend to us, and unable to count him in Your flock, we should be tortured with intolerable grief. Thanks be unto You, our God, we are Yours. Your exhortations, consolations, and faithful promises assure us that Thou now repayest Verecundus for that country house at Cassiacum, where from the fever of the world we found rest in You, with the perpetual freshness of Your Paradise, in that You have forgiven him his earthly sins, in that mountain flowing with milk, that fruitful mountain — Your own.

At that time, Verecundus was full of grief, but Nebridius was joyful. Although Nebridius was not yet a Christian either, he had fallen into the pit of that most destructive error of believing Your Son to be a phantom. Yet, emerging from that error, he now held the same belief we did, though he had not yet been initiated in any of the sacraments of Your Church. He was, however, a most earnest seeker after truth. Not long after our conversion and regeneration by Your baptism, when he too had become a faithful member of the Catholic Church and was serving You in perfect chastity and self-control among his own people in Africa, and when his whole household had been brought to Christianity through him, You released him from the flesh. Now he lives in Abraham's bosom. Whatever that place signified by that bosom may be, there lives my Nebridius, my dear friend, Your son, O Lord, adopted from a freedman. There he lives. For what other place could there be for such a soul? There he lives, he who used to ask me so many questions when I was inexperienced and weak. Now he no longer puts his ear to my mouth, but his spiritual mouth to Your fountain, and drinks as much wisdom as he is able, according to his desire, happy without end. Nor do I believe that he is so drunk with it as to forget me, since You, O Lord, whom he drinks, are mindful of us. So we were comforting the grieving Verecundus, our friendship remaining intact, concerning our conversion, and urging him to a faith appropriate to his condition, namely his married state. And we were waiting for Nebridius to follow us, which, being so close, he was just about to do, when those days finally passed. They seemed long and many because of my love of restful freedom, so that I might sing to You from my very marrow. My heart said to You: I have sought Your face; Your face, Lord, will I seek.

6. He then was at that time full of grief; but Nebridius was joyous. Although he also, not being yet a Christian, had fallen into the pit of that most pernicious error of believing Your Son to be a phantasm, yet, coming out thence, he held the same belief that we did; not as yet initiated in any of the sacraments of Your Church, but a most earnest inquirer after truth. Whom, not long after our conversion and regeneration by Your baptism, he being also a faithful member of the Catholic Church, and serving You in perfect chastity and continency among his own people in Africa, when his whole household had been brought to Christianity through him, You released from the flesh; and now he lives in Abraham's bosom. Whatever that may be which is signified by that bosom, there lives my Nebridius, my sweet friend, Your son, O Lord, adopted of a freedman; there he lives. For what other place could there be for such a soul? There lives he, concerning which he used to ask me much — me, an inexperienced, feeble one. Now he puts not his ear unto my mouth, but his spiritual mouth unto Your fountain, and drinks as much as he is able, wisdom according to his desire — happy without end. Nor do I believe that he is so inebriated with it as to forget me, seeing Thou, O Lord, whom he drinks, art mindful of us. Thus, then, were we comforting the sorrowing Verecundus (our friendship being untouched) concerning our conversion, and exhorting him to a faith according to his condition, I mean, his married state. And tarrying for Nebridius to follow us, which being so near, he was just about to do, when, behold, those days passed over at last; for long and many they seemed, on account of my love of easeful liberty, that I might sing unto You from my very marrow. My heart said to You — I have sought Your face; Your face, Lord, will I seek.

And the day came when I was actually released from my position as Professor of Rhetoric, though in my mind I had already been released from it. It was done, and You freed my tongue just as You had already freed my heart. Full of joy, I blessed You for this and withdrew with all my household to the country villa. My books are evidence of what I accomplished there in writing, which was now entirely devoted to Your service, though still gasping from the school of pride during this pause, so to speak. These include books where I debated with my friends and those where I wrestled with myself alone before You, and my letters to the absent Nebridius also bear witness. When will I ever find time to recount all Your great blessings that You gave us during that time, especially since I am hurrying on to tell of even greater mercies? My memory urges me, and it is pleasant for me, O Lord, to confess to You by what inward pressures You tamed me, and how You brought me low, leveling the mountains and hills of my fantasies, straightening what was crooked in me, and smoothing my rough paths. And my memory also urges me to confess by what means You likewise brought Alypius, the brother of my heart, to submit to the name of Your only-begotten, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. At first he refused to allow this name to be included in our writings, for he preferred that they should reflect the cedars of the schools, which the Lord has now broken down, rather than the wholesome herbs of the Church that are hostile to serpents.

7. And the day arrived on which, in very deed, I was to be released from the Professorship of Rhetoric, from which in intention I had been already released. And done it was; and Thou delivered my tongue whence You had already delivered my heart; and full of joy I blessed You for it, and retired with all mine to the villa. What I accomplished here in writing, which was now wholly devoted to Your service, though still, in this pause as it were, panting from the school of pride, my books testify, — those in which I disputed with my friends, and those with myself alone before You; and what with the absent Nebridius, my letters testify. And when can I find time to recount all Your great benefits which You bestowed upon us at that time, especially as I am hasting on to still greater mercies? For my memory calls upon me, and pleasant it is to me, O Lord, to confess unto You, by what inward goads You subdued me, and how Thou made me low, bringing down the mountains and hills of my imaginations, and straightened my crookedness, and smooth my rough ways; Luke 3:5 and by what means Thou also subdued that brother of my heart, Alypius, unto the name of Your only-begotten, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, which he at first refused to have inserted in our writings. For he rather desired that they should savour of the cedars of the schools, which the Lord has now broken down, than of the wholesome herbs of the Church, hostile to serpents.

What words I sent up to You, my God, when I read the Psalms of David—those faithful songs and sounds of devotion that allow no swelling of pride—when I was new to Your true love, resting at the villa with Alypius, who was a catechumen like myself, and my mother staying with us. She wore a woman's clothes, but had a man's faith, the calmness of old age, and was full of motherly love and Christian devotion! What words I used to send up to You in those Psalms, and how I was set on fire toward You by them, and burned to recite them, if possible, throughout the whole world, against the pride of the human race! And yet they are sung throughout the whole world, and no one can hide from Your heat. With what fierce and bitter grief I was angry at the Manicheans—though I also pitied them again because they were ignorant of those sacraments, those medicines, and were insane against the cure that could have made them well! I wished they had been somewhere near me then, and without my knowing they were present, could have seen my face and heard my words when I read the fourth Psalm during that time of rest—how that Psalm worked upon me. "When I called upon You, You heard me, O God of my righteousness; You have enlarged me when I was in distress; have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer." Oh, if only they could have heard what I said about these words, without my knowing whether they heard or not, so they wouldn't think I spoke because of them! For truly, I wouldn't have said the same things, or said them in the same way, if I had known I was being heard and seen by them; and if I had spoken them, they wouldn't have received them as they were when I spoke by and for myself alone before You, out of the private feelings of my soul.

8. What utterances sent I up unto You, my God, when I read the Psalms of David, those faithful songs and sounds of devotion which exclude all swelling of spirit, when new to Your true love, at rest in the villa with Alypius, a catechumen like myself, my mother cleaving unto us — in woman's garb truly, but with a man's faith, with the peacefulness of age, full of motherly love and Christian piety! What utterances used I to send up unto You in those Psalms, and how was I inflamed towards You by them, and burned to rehearse them, if it were possible, throughout the whole world, against the pride of the human race! And yet they are sung throughout the whole world, and none can hide himself from Your heat. With what vehement and bitter sorrow was I indignant at the Manichæans; whom yet again I pitied, for that they were ignorant of those sacraments, those medicaments, and were mad against the antidote which might have made them sane! I wished that they had been somewhere near me then, and, without my being aware of their presence, could have beheld my face, and heard my words, when I read the fourth Psalm in that time of my leisure — how that Psalm wrought upon me. When I called upon You, Thou heard me, O God of my righteousness; You have enlarged me when I was in distress; have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer. Oh that they might have heard what I uttered on these words, without my knowing whether they heard or no, lest they should think that I spoke it because of them! For, of a truth, neither should I have said the same things, nor in the way I said them, if I had perceived that I was heard and seen by them; and had I spoken them, they would not so have received them as when I spoke by and for myself before You, out of the private feelings of my soul.

I experienced alternating waves of fear and hope, warming with rejoicing in Your mercy, O Father. All these emotions poured out through my eyes and voice when Your good Spirit, turning to us, said, "O you sons of men, how long will you be slow of heart? How long will you love vanity and seek after leasing?" For I had loved vanity and sought after leasing. And You, O Lord, had already magnified Your Holy One, raising Him from the dead and setting Him at Your right hand, from where He would send from on high His promise, the Paraclete, the Spirit of Truth. And He had already sent Him, but I didn't know it. He had sent Him because He was now magnified, having risen from the dead and ascended into heaven. For until then the Holy Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus was not yet glorified. And the prophet cries out, "How long will you be slow of heart? How long will you love vanity and seek after leasing? Know this, that the Lord has magnified His Holy One." He cries out, "How long?" He cries out, "Know this," and I, ignorant for so long, loved vanity and sought after leasing. And therefore I heard and trembled, because these words were spoken to people like I remembered I had been. For in those phantasms that I once held as truths, there was vanity and leasing. And I spoke many things loudly and earnestly, in the sorrow of remembering, which I wish those who still love vanity and seek after leasing had heard! Perhaps they would have been troubled and vomited it forth, and You would hear them when they cried to You, for by a true death in the flesh He died for us, who now makes intercession for us with You.

9. I alternately quaked with fear, and warmed with hope, and with rejoicing in Your mercy, O Father. And all these passed forth, both by my eyes and voice, when Your good Spirit, turning unto us, said, O you sons of men, how long will you be slow of heart? How long will you love vanity, and seek after leasing? For I had loved vanity, and sought after leasing. And You, O Lord, had already magnified Your Holy One, raising Him from the dead, and setting Him at Your right hand, Ephesians 1:20 whence from on high He should send His promise, Luke 24:49 the Paraclete, the Spirit of Truth. John 14:16-17 And He had already sent Him, Acts 2:1-4 but I knew it not; He had sent Him, because He was now magnified, rising again from the dead, and ascending into heaven. For till then the Holy Ghost was not yet given, because that Jesus was not yet glorified. John 7:39 And the prophet cries out, How long will you be slow of heart? How long will you love vanity, and seek after leasing? Know this, that the Lord has magnified His Holy One. He cries out, How long? He cries out, Know this, and I, so long ignorant, loved vanity, and sought after leasing. And therefore I heard and trembled, because these words were spoken unto such as I remembered that I myself had been. For in those phantasms which I once held for truths was there vanity and leasing. And I spoke many things loudly and earnestly, in the sorrow of my remembrance, which, would that they who yet love vanity and seek after leasing had heard! They would perchance have been troubled, and have vomited it forth, and You would hear them when they cried unto You; for by a true death in the flesh He died for us, who now makes intercession for us Romans 8:34 with You.

I continued reading: "Be angry, and sin not." And how deeply this moved me, O my God, now that I had learned to be angry with myself for my past sins, so that I would not sin in the future! Yes, to be righteously angry—for it was not some other nature from a race of darkness that sinned for me, as certain people claim, who refuse to be angry with themselves and who store up wrath for themselves against the day of wrath and the revelation of Your righteous judgment. My good things were no longer external, nor did I seek them with physical eyes in the sunlight. Those who seek joy from outside themselves easily fall into forgetfulness and waste themselves on things that are visible and temporary, and in their famished thoughts they even lick at shadows. If only they would grow weary of their hunger and ask, "Who will show us any good?" Then we could answer, and they would hear: "O Lord, the light of Your countenance is lifted up upon us." For we are not that Light which enlightens every person, but we are enlightened by You, so that we who were once darkness may be light in You. If only they could see the inner Eternal Reality! Having tasted it myself, I was frustrated that I could not show it to them while they brought me their hearts in their wandering eyes, roaming away from You, asking, "Who will show us any good?" But there, where I was angry with myself in my room, where I was inwardly pierced, where I had offered my sacrifice by putting to death my old self and beginning to resolve on a new life with my trust in You—there You had begun to grow sweet to me and to put gladness in my heart. And I cried out as I read this passage outwardly, feeling it inwardly. I no longer wanted to be increased with worldly possessions, wasting time and being wasted by time, since I possessed in Your eternal simplicity other grain, wine, and oil.

10. I read further, Be angry, and sin not. Ephesians 4:26 And how was I moved, O my God, who had now learned to be angry with myself for the things past, so that in the future I might not sin! Yea, to be justly angry; for that it was not another nature of the race of darkness which sinned for me, as they affirm it to be who are not angry with themselves, and who treasure up to themselves wrath against the day of wrath, and of the revelation of Your righteous judgment. Romans 2:5 Nor were my good things now without, nor were they sought after with eyes of flesh in that sun; for they that would have joy from without easily sink into oblivion, and are wasted upon those things which are seen and temporal, and in their starving thoughts do lick their very shadows. Oh, if only they were wearied out with their fasting, and said, Who will show us any good? And we would answer, and they hear, O Lord. The light of Your countenance is lifted up upon us. For we are not that Light, which lights every man, John 1:9 but we are enlightened by You, that we, who were sometimes darkness, may be light in You. Ephesians 5:8 Oh that they could behold the internal Eternal, which having tasted I gnashed my teeth that I could not show It to them, while they brought me their heart in their eyes, roaming abroad from You, and said, Who will show us any good? But there, where I was angry with myself in my chamber, where I was inwardly pricked, where I had offered my sacrifice, slaying my old man, and beginning the resolution of a new life, putting my trust in You, — there had Thou begun to grow sweet unto me, and to put gladness in my heart. And I cried out as I read this outwardly, and felt it inwardly. Nor would I be increased with worldly goods, wasting time and being wasted by time; whereas I possessed in Your eternal simplicity other grain, and wine, and oil.

I cried out from my heart as I read the next verse: "Oh, in peace! and the self-same!" What does he mean when he says, "I will lay me down and sleep"? Who can stop us when what is written comes true: "Death is swallowed up in victory"? You are supremely the self-same, who does not change, and in You is the rest that forgets all labor, for there is no one else besides You. We shouldn't seek after all those other things that are not what You are. But You, Lord, alone make me dwell in hope. As I read these things, I was set on fire, but I didn't know what to do about those who were deaf and dead—people among whom I had been a destructive member, a bitter and blind critic of the writings sweetened with the honey of heaven and shining with Your light. I was consumed with grief over the enemies of this Scripture.

11. And with a loud cry from my heart, I called out in the following verse, Oh, in peace! and the self-same! Oh, what said he, I will lay me down and sleep! For who shall hinder us, when shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory? 1 Corinthians 15:54 And You are in the highest degree the self-same, who changest not; and in You is the rest which forgets all labour, for there is no other beside You, nor ought we to seek after those many other things which are not what You are; but Thou, Lord, only makest me to dwell in hope. These things I read, and was inflamed; but discovered not what to do with those deaf and dead, of whom I had been a pestilent member — a bitter and a blind declaimer against the writings be-honied with the honey of heaven and luminous with Your own light; and I was consumed on account of the enemies of this Scripture.

When shall I be able to recall everything that happened during those holidays? Yet I have not forgotten, nor will I keep silent about the severity of Your discipline and the remarkable swiftness of Your mercy. At that time You afflicted me with toothache, and when it became so extremely severe that I could not speak, it came into my mind to urge all my friends who were present to pray for me to You, the God of every kind of healing. I wrote this down on a wax tablet and gave it to them to read. As soon as we knelt down with humble longing, that pain left me. But what kind of pain was it? And how did it leave? I confess to being very frightened, my Lord my God, since from my earliest years I had never experienced such pain. Your purposes made a deep impression on me, and rejoicing in faith, I praised Your name. But that faith would not let me rest regarding my past sins, which were not yet forgiven me through Your baptism.

12. When shall I call to mind all that took place in those holidays? Yet neither have I forgotten, nor will I be silent about the severity of Your scourge, and the amazing quickness of Your mercy. Thou at that time tortured me with toothache; and when it had become so exceeding great that I was not able to speak, it came into my heart to urge all my friends who were present to pray for me to You, the God of all manner of health. And I wrote it down on wax, and gave it to them to read. Presently, as with submissive desire we bowed our knees, that pain departed. But what pain? Or how did it depart? I confess to being much afraid, my Lord my God, seeing that from my earliest years I had not experienced such pain. And Your purposes were profoundly impressed upon me; and, rejoicing in faith, I praised Your name. And that faith suffered me not to be at rest in regard to my past sins, which were not yet forgiven me by Your baptism.

The grape harvest vacation having ended, I informed the citizens of Milan that they would need to find another seller of words to teach their students, both because of my decision to serve You and because my difficulty breathing and chest pain made it impossible for me to continue as a Professor. Through letters I told Your bishop, the holy man Ambrose, about my past errors and current intentions, asking him to recommend which of Your books I should read so I could be better prepared and more suitable to receive such great grace. He recommended the Prophet Isaiah, I believe because he reveals the gospel and the calling of the Gentiles more clearly than other prophets. But since I did not understand the opening section of the book and assumed the rest would be similar, I set it aside, planning to return to it later when I had more practice with our Lord's words.

13. The vintage vacation being ended, I gave the citizens of Milan notice that they might provide their scholars with another seller of words; because both of my election to serve You, and my inability, by reason of the difficulty of breathing and the pain in my chest, to continue the Professorship. And by letters I notified to Your bishop, the holy man Ambrose, my former errors and present resolutions, with a view to his advising me which of Your books it was best for me to read, so that I might be readier and fitter for the reception of such great grace. He recommended Isaiah the Prophet; I believe, because he foreshows more clearly than others the gospel, and the calling of the Gentiles. But I, not understanding the first portion of the book, and imagining the whole to be like it, laid it aside, intending to take it up hereafter, when better practised in our Lord's words.

When the time came for me to enroll as a candidate for baptism, we left the countryside and returned to Milan. Alypius was also pleased to be born again with me in You, now clothed with the humility appropriate to Your sacraments, and being such a brave tamer of the body that he walked on the frozen ground of Italy with bare feet—an act of unusual courage. We brought with us the boy Adeodatus, my son born physically from my sin. You had made him well. He was barely fifteen years old, yet in intelligence he surpassed many serious and learned men. I confess to You Your gifts, O Lord my God, Creator of all, and of exceeding power to reform our deformities. There was nothing of me in that boy except the sin. That we raised him in Your discipline was Your doing—You inspired us, no one else. Your gifts I confess to You. There is a book of ours entitled The Master. It is a dialogue between him and me. You know that all the thoughts expressed by the person arguing with me in that book were his ideas in his sixteenth year. I found many other even more wonderful things in him. That talent filled me with awe. And who but You could be the worker of such marvels? You quickly removed his life from the earth, and now I remember him with a sense of security, because I fear nothing for his childhood or youth, or for his whole self. We brought him along with us, equal to us in Your grace, to be educated in Your discipline. We were baptized, and anxiety about our past life left us. During those days I was not satisfied with the wonderful sweetness of considering the depth of Your counsels concerning the salvation of the human race. How greatly I wept during Your hymns and canticles, deeply moved by the voices of Your sweet-speaking Church! The voices flowed into my ears, and the truth was poured into my heart, from which the agitation of my piety overflowed, and my tears ran over, and I was blessed in this.

14. Thence, when the time had arrived at which I was to give in my name, having left the country, we returned to Milan. Alypius also was pleased to be born again with me in You, being now clothed with the humility appropriate to Your sacraments, and being so brave a tamer of the body, as with unusual fortitude to tread the frozen soil of Italy with his naked feet. We took into our company the boy Adeodatus, born of me carnally, of my sin. Well had Thou made him. He was barely fifteen years, yet in wit excelled many grave and learned men. I confess unto You Your gifts, O Lord my God, Creator of all, and of exceeding power to reform our deformities; for of me was there naught in that boy but the sin. For that we fostered him in Your discipline, You inspired us, none other — Your gifts I confess unto You. There is a book of ours, which is entitled The Master. It is a dialogue between him and me. You know that all things there put into the mouth of the person in argument with me were his thoughts in his sixteenth year. Many others more wonderful did I find in him. That talent was a source of awe to me. And who but Thou could be the worker of such marvels? Quickly did You remove his life from the earth; and now I recall him to mind with a sense of security, in that I fear nothing for his childhood or youth, or for his whole self. We took him coeval with us in Your grace, to be educated in Your discipline; and we were baptized, and solicitude about our past life left us. Nor was I satiated in those days with the wondrous sweetness of considering the depth of Your counsels concerning the salvation of the human race. How greatly did I weep in Your hymns and canticles, deeply moved by the voices of Your sweet-speaking Church! The voices flowed into mine ears, and the truth was poured forth into my heart, whence the agitation of my piety overflowed, and my tears ran over, and blessed was I therein.

The Church of Milan had only recently begun to use this kind of comfort and encouragement, with the congregation singing together with great earnestness in voice and heart. This happened about a year, or not much more, after Justina, the mother of the young Emperor Valentinian, persecuted Your servant Ambrose on behalf of her heresy, which she had been led into by the Arians. The faithful people kept watch in the church, ready to die with their bishop, Your servant. There my mother, Your handmaid, took a leading role in these concerns and vigils, devoting herself to prayer. We, still not warmed by the fire of Your Spirit, were nevertheless stirred by the shocked and troubled city. It was at this time that the practice was established that, following the custom of the Eastern Church, hymns and psalms should be sung, so that the people would not waste away in prolonged grief. This custom, kept from that time until now, has been imitated by many, indeed by nearly all of Your congregations throughout the rest of the world.

15. Not long had the Church of Milan begun to employ this kind of consolation and exhortation, the brethren singing together with great earnestness of voice and heart. For it was about a year, or not much more, since Justina, the mother of the boy-Emperor Valentinian, persecuted Your servant Ambrose in the interest of her heresy, to which she had been seduced by the Arians. The pious people kept guard in the church, prepared to die with their bishop, Your servant. There my mother, Your handmaid, bearing a chief part of those cares and watchings, lived in prayer. We, still unmelted by the heat of Your Spirit, were yet moved by the astonished and disturbed city. At this time it was instituted that, after the manner of the Eastern Church, hymns and psalms should be sung, lest the people should pine away in the tediousness of sorrow; which custom, retained from then till now, is imitated by many, yea, by almost all of Your congregations throughout the rest of the world.

Then You made known to Your famous bishop through a vision the place where the bodies of the martyrs Gervasius and Protasius lay—bodies which You had preserved uncorrupted in Your secret storage place for so many years, so that You might bring them forth at the right time to restrain the feminine yet royal rage. For when they were uncovered and dug up and transferred with proper honor to the Ambrosian Basilica, not only were those who were troubled with unclean spirits healed (the demons confessing themselves), but also a certain man who had been blind for many years, a well-known citizen of that city, asked and was told the reason for the people's tumultuous joy, rushed out, and asked his guide to lead him there. When he arrived, he begged to be allowed to touch the bier of Your saints with his handkerchief—Your saints whose death is precious in Your sight. When he had done this and put it to his eyes, they were immediately opened. From there the news spread; from there Your praises burned and shone; from there the mind of that enemy, though not yet enlarged to the wholeness of believing, was restrained from the fury of persecution. Thanks be to You, O my God. From where and to where have You led my memory in this way, that I should confess these things also to You—great things which I, forgetful, had passed over? And yet even then, when the fragrance of Your ointments was so strong, we did not run after You. And so I wept all the more abundantly at the singing of Your hymns, I who had formerly been panting for You and at last was breathing in You, as far as the air can play in this house of grass.

16. Then Thou by a vision made known to Your renowned bishop the spot where lay the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius, the martyrs (whom You had in Your secret storehouse preserved uncorrupted for so many years), whence You might at the fitting time produce them to repress the feminine but royal fury. For when they were revealed and dug up and with due honour transferred to the Ambrosian Basilica, not only they who were troubled with unclean spirits (the devils confessing themselves) were healed, but a certain man also, who had been blind many years, a well-known citizen of that city, having asked and been told the reason of the people's tumultuous joy, rushed forth, asking his guide to lead him there. Arrived there, he begged to be permitted to touch with his handkerchief the bier of Your saints, whose death is precious in Your sight. When he had done this, and put it to his eyes, they were immediately opened. Thence did the fame spread; thence did Your praises burn — shine; thence was the mind of that enemy, though not yet enlarged to the wholeness of believing, restrained from the fury of persecuting. Thanks be to You, O my God. Whence and whither have You thus led my remembrance, that I should confess these things also unto You — great, though I, forgetful, had passed them over? And yet then, when the savour of Your ointments was so fragrant, did we not run after You. Song of Songs 1:3-4 And so I did the more abundantly weep at the singing of Your hymns, formerly panting for You, and at last breathing in You, as far as the air can play in this house of grass.

You, who make people live together in harmony in a house, also brought Evodius to join us, a young man from our city. While working as an agent in Public Affairs, he was converted to You and baptized before we were. He left his secular work to prepare himself for Your service. We were together and planned to live together with a holy purpose. We were looking for a place where we could best serve You, and we were returning together to Africa. When we reached Ostia on the Tiber, my mother died. I am leaving out much because I have much to tell quickly. Accept my confessions and thanksgivings, O my God, for countless things I do not mention. But I will not leave out anything my soul has produced concerning that handmaid of Yours who brought me forth—in her flesh, so I might be born into this earthly life, and in her heart, so I might be born into eternal life. I will not speak of her gifts, but of Yours in her, for she neither made herself nor raised herself. You created her, and neither her father nor her mother knew what kind of person would come from them. It was the rod of Your Christ, the discipline of Your only Son, that trained her in fear of You, in the household of one of Your faithful servants who was a solid member of Your Church. Yet she attributed this good discipline not so much to her mother's care as to that of a certain elderly maid-servant who had carried her father when he was an infant, as small children are usually carried on the backs of older girls. For this reason, and because of her great age and very good character, she was highly respected by the heads of that Christian household. The care of her master's daughters was also entrusted to her, and she carried out this duty diligently, restraining them when necessary with holy severity and instructing them with sober wisdom. Except during the hours when they ate moderately at their parents' table, she would not permit them to drink even water, though they were very thirsty. She did this to prevent a bad habit, adding this wholesome advice: "You drink water now only because you do not control the wine, but when you are married and become mistresses of the storeroom and cellar, you will despise water, but the habit of drinking will remain." Through this method of instruction and exercise of authority, she controlled the desire of their young age and regulated even the girls' thirst to such a proper limit that they did not long for what was unseemly.

17. You, who makest men to dwell of one mind in a house, associated with us Evodius also, a young man of our city, who, when serving as an agent for Public Affairs, was converted unto You and baptized prior to us; and relinquishing his secular service, prepared himself for Yours. We were together, and together were we about to dwell with a holy purpose. We sought for some place where we might be most useful in our service to You, and were going back together to Africa. And when we were at the Tiberine Ostia my mother died. Much I omit, having much to hasten. Receive my confessions and thanksgivings, O my God, for innumerable things concerning which I am silent. But I will not omit anything that my soul has brought forth as to that Your handmaid who brought me forth — in her flesh, that I might be born to this temporal light, and in her heart, that I might be born to life eternal. I will speak not of her gifts, but Yours in her; for she neither made herself nor educated herself. You created her, nor did her father nor her mother know what a being was to proceed from them. And it was the rod of Your Christ, the discipline of Your only Son, that trained her in Your fear, in the house of one of Your faithful ones, who was a sound member of Your Church. Yet this good discipline did she not so much attribute to the diligence of her mother, as that of a certain decrepid maid-servant, who had carried about her father when an infant, as little ones are wont to be carried on the backs of elder girls. For which reason, and on account of her extreme age and very good character, was she much respected by the heads of that Christian house. Whence also was committed to her the care of her master's daughters, which she with diligence performed, and was earnest in restraining them when necessary, with a holy severity, and instructing them with a sober sagacity. For, excepting at the hours in which they were very temperately fed at their parents' table, she used not to permit them, though parched with thirst, to drink even water; thereby taking precautions against an evil custom, and adding the wholesome advice, You drink water only because you have not control of wine; but when you have come to be married, and made mistresses of storeroom and cellar, you will despise water, but the habit of drinking will remain. By this method of instruction, and power of command, she restrained the longing of their tender age, and regulated the very thirst of the girls to such a becoming limit, as that what was not seemly they did not long for.

As Your servant told me, her son, she had developed a liking for wine. When she was a sober young girl, her parents would normally ask her to draw wine from the barrel. While holding the container under the opening, before pouring the wine into the bottle, she would wet the tips of her lips with a little bit—she couldn't bring herself to drink more than that. She didn't do this because she craved alcohol, but because of the overflowing energy of her youth, which bubbles up with playfulness and is usually restrained by the seriousness of older people. So by adding daily little amounts to that first little bit (for whoever despises small things will fall little by little), she developed such a habit that she would eagerly drink off her small cup nearly full of wine. Where was the wise old woman with her serious discipline then? Could anything work against a hidden disease if Your healing, O Lord, did not watch over us? With father, mother, and caregivers absent, You were present—You who created us, who call us, and who also work through those placed over us to accomplish some good for the salvation of our souls. What did You do at that time, O my God? How did You heal her? How did You make her well? Didn't You bring forth from another woman's soul a harsh and bitter insult, like a surgeon's knife from Your secret supply, and with one cut remove all that infected matter? For the servant who used to go with her to the cellar had a quarrel with her young mistress when they were alone together, as sometimes happens, and threw this fault in her face with a very bitter insult, calling her a drunkard. Wounded by this reproach, she recognized her ugliness and immediately condemned and gave up the habit. Just as friends corrupt us by their flattery, so enemies often correct us by their insults. Yet You don't repay them according to what You accomplish through them, but according to what they intended. For the servant, being angry, wanted to irritate her young mistress, not to cure her, and she did it in private, either because the time and place of their argument left them in that situation, or perhaps because she was afraid of getting in trouble herself for revealing it so late. But You, Lord, Ruler of heavenly and earthly things, who turn the deepest currents to Your purposes and order the turbulent flow of the ages, heal one soul through the sickness of another—so that no one, when he notices this, should credit it to his own power if another person, whom he wishes to see reformed, is actually reformed through a word of his.

18. And yet — as Your handmaid related to me, her son — there had stolen upon her a love of wine. For when she, as being a sober maiden, was as usual bidden by her parents to draw wine from the cask, the vessel being held under the opening, before she poured the wine into the bottle, she would wet the tips of her lips with a little, for more than that her inclination refused. For this she did not from any craving for drink, but out of the overflowing buoyancy of her time of life, which bubbles up with sportiveness, and is, in youthful spirits, wont to be repressed by the gravity of elders. And so unto that little, adding daily littles (for he that despises small things shall fall little by little), she contracted such a habit as, to drink off eagerly her little cup nearly full of wine. Where, then, was the sagacious old woman with her earnest restraint? Could anything prevail against a secret disease if Your medicine, O Lord, did not watch over us? Father, mother, and nurturers absent, Thou present, who hast created, who callest, who also by those who are set over us work some good for the salvation of our souls, what did Thou do at that time, O my God? How did You heal her? How did You make her whole? Did You not out of another woman's soul evoke a hard and bitter insult, as a surgeon's knife from Your secret store, and with one thrust remove all that putrefaction? For the maidservant who used to accompany her to the cellar, falling out, as it happens, with her little mistress, when she was alone with her, cast in her teeth this vice, with very bitter insult, calling her a wine-bibber. Stung by this taunt, she perceived her foulness, and immediately condemned and renounced it. Even as friends by their flattery pervert, so do enemies by their taunts often correct us. Yet You render not unto them what You do by them, but what was proposed by them. For she, being angry, desired to irritate her young mistress, not to cure her; and did it in secret, either because the time and place of the dispute found them thus, or perhaps lest she herself should be exposed to danger for disclosing it so late. But You, Lord, Governor of heavenly and earthly things, who convertest to Your purposes the deepest torrents, and disposest the turbulent current of the ages, healest one soul by the unsoundness of another; lest any man, when he remarks this, should attribute it unto his own power if another, whom he wishes to be reformed, is so through a word of his.

Being raised in this modest and disciplined way, and made subject to her parents by You rather than by them to You, when she reached the age for marriage, she was given to a husband whom she served as her lord. She worked to win him over to You, preaching You to him through her conduct, by which You made her beautiful, respectfully lovable, and admirable to her husband. She endured his unfaithfulness in such a way that she never had any conflict with her husband because of it. She waited for Your mercy to come upon him, so that by believing in You he might become chaste. Beyond this, just as he was passionate in friendship, so he was violent in anger. But she had learned that an angry husband should not be opposed, either in action or even in words. As soon as he had calmed down and become peaceful, and she saw the right moment, she would explain her actions to him if he had become upset without cause. In short, while many married women whose husbands were gentler carried the marks of beatings on their dishonored faces and would privately criticize their husbands' behavior, she would criticize their tongues, warning them seriously though as if joking: that from the moment they heard what are called the marriage contracts read to them, they should think of these documents as instruments by which they were made servants. Therefore, always remembering their condition, they should not oppose their lords. When they, knowing what a violent-tempered husband she endured, marveled that it had never been reported or shown by any sign that Patricius had beaten his wife or that there had been any household conflict between them even for a single day, and asked her privately why this was so, she taught them her principle, which I mentioned above. Those who followed it discovered its wisdom and rejoiced; those who did not follow it remained in subjection and suffered.

19. Being thus modestly and soberly trained, and rather made subject by You to her parents, than by her parents to You, when she had arrived at a marriageable age, she was given to a husband whom she served as her lord. And she busied herself to gain him to You, preaching You unto him by her behaviour; by which You made her fair, and reverently amiable, and admirable unto her husband. For she so bore the wronging of her bed as never to have any dissension with her husband on account of it. For she waited for Your mercy upon him, that by believing in You he might become chaste. And besides this, as he was earnest in friendship, so was he violent in anger; but she had learned that an angry husband should not be resisted, neither in deed, nor even in word. But so soon as he was grown calm and tranquil, and she saw a fitting moment, she would give him a reason for her conduct, should he have been excited without cause. In short, while many matrons, whose husbands were more gentle, carried the marks of blows on their dishonoured faces, and would in private conversation blame the lives of their husbands, she would blame their tongues, monishing them gravely, as if in jest: That from the hour they heard what are called the matrimonial tablets read to them, they should think of them as instruments whereby they were made servants; so, being always mindful of their condition, they ought not to set themselves in opposition to their lords. And when they, knowing what a furious husband she endured, marvelled that it had never been reported, nor appeared by any indication, that Patricius had beaten his wife, or that there had been any domestic strife between them, even for a day, and asked her in confidence the reason of this, she taught them her rule, which I have mentioned above. They who observed it experienced the wisdom of it, and rejoiced; those who observed it not were kept in subjection, and suffered.

Her mother-in-law was at first turned against her by the whispers of ill-intentioned servants, but she won her over through humble submission, continuing patiently and gently until her mother-in-law voluntarily told her son about the meddling servants' gossip that had disturbed the peace between herself and her daughter-in-law, and asked him to punish them for it. So he punished those servants with beatings, following his mother's wishes and aiming to maintain discipline in his household and ensure harmony among its members in the future. His mother then promised the same punishment to anyone who might try to please her by speaking badly of her daughter-in-law. After that, no one dared to do so, and they lived together with a remarkable sweetness and mutual goodwill.

20. Her mother-in-law, also, being at first prejudiced against her by the whisperings of evil-disposed servants, she so conquered by submission, persevering in it with patience and meekness, that she voluntarily disclosed to her son the tongues of the meddling servants, whereby the domestic peace between herself and her daughter-in-law had been agitated, begging him to punish them for it. When, therefore, he had — in conformity with his mother's wish, and with a view to the discipline of his family, and to ensure the future harmony of its members — corrected with stripes those discovered, according to the will of her who had discovered them, she promised a similar reward to any who, to please her, should say anything evil to her of her daughter-in-law. And, none now daring to do so, they lived together with a wonderful sweetness of mutual good-will.

You also gave this great gift, my God, my mercy, to that good servant of yours from whose womb you created me. Whenever she could, she acted as a peacemaker between people who disagreed and argued with each other. When she heard extremely bitter things from both sides—the kind of harsh, unprocessed anger that swelling and undigested discord typically produces, when the raw bitterness of hostility is expressed in cruel words to a present friend about an absent enemy—she would share nothing from one person to the other except what might help them reconcile. This might seem like a small good thing to me, except that I've sadly known countless people who, through some terrible and widespread infection of sin, not only repeat to mutual enemies the things said against each other in anger, but actually add things that were never said at all. Yet for a generous person, it should seem like a small thing merely to avoid stirring up or increasing people's hostilities through gossip, unless he also tries to extinguish them through kind words. She was such a person—with you as her most intimate teacher, instructing her in the school of her heart.

21. This great gift You bestowed also, my God, my mercy, upon that good handmaid of Yours, out of whose womb You created me, even that, whenever she could, she showed herself such a peacemaker between any differing and discordant spirits, that when she had heard on both sides most bitter things, such as swelling and undigested discord is wont to give vent to, when the crudities of enmities are breathed out in bitter speeches to a present friend against an absent enemy, she would disclose nothing about the one unto the other, save what might avail to their reconcilement. A small good this might seem to me, did I not know to my sorrow countless persons, who, through some horrible and far-spreading infection of sin, not only disclose to enemies mutually enraged the things said in passion against each other, but add some things that were never spoken at all; whereas, to a generous man, it ought to seem a small thing not to incite or increase the enmities of men by ill-speaking, unless he endeavour likewise by kind words to extinguish them. Such a one was she — Thou, her most intimate Instructor, teaching her in the school of her heart.

Finally, toward the end of his earthly life, she won her own husband over to You. She did not have to complain about the things in him as a believer that she had endured before he became one. She was also a servant of Your servants. Whoever among them knew her greatly praised, honored, and loved You in her, because through the evidence of the fruits of a holy life, they recognized You to be present in her heart. She had been the wife of one man, had honored her parents, had managed her household in a godly way, was well known for good works, and had raised her children, laboring in birth for them Galatians 4:19 as often as she saw them turning away from You. Finally, to all of us, O Lord (since by Your favor You allow Your servants to speak), who before her falling asleep in You 1 Thessalonians 4:14 lived together after receiving the grace of Your baptism, she gave the kind of care she would have given if she had been mother to us all, and served us as if she had been the child of us all.

22. Finally, her own husband, now towards the end of his earthly existence, did she gain over unto You; and she had not to complain of that in him, as one of the faithful, which, before he became so, she had endured. She was also the servant of Your servants. Whosoever of them knew her, did in her much magnify, honour, and love You; for that through the testimony of the fruits of a holy conversation, they perceived You to be present in her heart. For she had been the wife of one man, had requited her parents, had guided her house piously, was well-reported of for good works, had brought up children, as often travailing in birth of them Galatians 4:19 as she saw them swerving from You. Lastly, to all of us, O Lord (since of Your favour Thou sufferest Your servants to speak), who, before her sleeping in You, 1 Thessalonians 4:14 lived associated together, having received the grace of Your baptism, did she devote, care such as she might if she had been mother of us all; served us as if she had been child of all.

As the day now approached when she was to leave this life (a day You knew, though we did not), it happened—through Your secret arrangement, I believe—that she and I stood alone, leaning at a window overlooking the garden of the house we were staying in at Ostia. We had withdrawn from the crowds to rest and recover from the exhausting journey, preparing for the voyage ahead. We were talking together very pleasantly, just the two of us. Forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, we were discussing between ourselves in the presence of the Truth, which You are, what the eternal life of the saints would be like—that life which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither has entered into the heart of man. Yet we opened wide the mouth of our heart toward those heavenly streams from Your fountain, the fountain of life, which is with You, so that being sprinkled with it according to our capacity, we might in some way grasp so great a mystery.

23. As the day now approached on which she was to depart this life (which day Thou knew, we did not), it fell out — Thou, as I believe, by Your secret ways arranging it — that she and I stood alone, leaning in a certain window, from which the garden of the house we occupied at Ostia could be seen; at which place, removed from the crowd, we were resting ourselves for the voyage, after the fatigues of a long journey. We then were conversing alone very pleasantly; and, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, Philippians 3:13 we were seeking between ourselves in the presence of the Truth, which You are, of what nature the eternal life of the saints would be, which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither has entered into the heart of man. But yet we opened wide the mouth of our heart, after those supernal streams of Your fountain, the fountain of life, which is with You; that being sprinkled with it according to our capacity, we might in some measure weigh so high a mystery.

When our conversation reached the point where even the highest pleasure of physical senses and the brightest material light seemed, because of the sweetness of that life, not only unworthy of comparison but not even worth mentioning, we lifted ourselves with more burning desire toward the Selfsame and gradually passed through all bodily things, and even heaven itself, from which sun, moon, and stars shine upon the earth. Indeed, we soared even higher through inward reflection, discussion, and wonder at Your works. We came to our own minds and went beyond them, so that we might reach that region of unfailing abundance where You feed Israel forever with the food of truth, and where life is that Wisdom by whom all these things are made—both what has been and what is to come. She is not made, but is as she has been and always will be. Or rather, "to have been" and "to be hereafter" do not exist in her, but only "to be," since she is eternal, for "to have been" and "to be hereafter" are not eternal. And while we were speaking this way and reaching toward her, we briefly touched her with our heart's full effort. We sighed and left there the first-fruits of the Spirit, then returned to the sound of our own speech, where words spoken have both beginning and end. And what is like Your Word, our Lord, who remains in Himself without growing old and makes all things new?

24. And when our conversation had arrived at that point, that the very highest pleasure of the carnal senses, and that in the very brightest material light, seemed by reason of the sweetness of that life not only not worthy of comparison, but not even of mention, we, lifting ourselves with a more ardent affection towards the Selfsame, did gradually pass through all corporeal things, and even the heaven itself, whence sun, and moon, and stars shine upon the earth; yea, we soared higher yet by inward musing, and discoursing, and admiring Your works; and we came to our own minds, and went beyond them, that we might advance as high as that region of unfailing plenty, where You feed Israel for ever with the food of truth, and where life is that Wisdom by whom all these things are made, both which have been, and which are to come; and she is not made, but is as she has been, and so shall ever be; yea, rather, to have been, and to be hereafter, are not in her, but only to be, seeing she is eternal, for to have been and to be hereafter are not eternal. And while we were thus speaking, and straining after her, we slightly touched her with the whole effort of our heart; and we sighed, and there left bound the first-fruits of the Spirit; Romans 8:23 and returned to the noise of our own mouth, where the word uttered has both beginning and end. And what is like Your Word, our Lord, who remains in Himself without becoming old, and makes all things new? Wisdom 7:27

We were saying, then: If the noise of the flesh were silenced for anyone—if the imaginations of earth, waters, and air were silenced—if the heavens were also silenced; yes, if the very soul were silenced to itself and went beyond itself by not thinking of itself—if fancies and imaginary revelations were silenced, every tongue and every sign, and everything that exists only by passing away, since if anyone could listen, all these things say, "We did not create ourselves, but were created by Him who remains forever": If, after saying this, they were now silenced, having only awakened our ears to Him who created them, and He alone spoke not through them but by Himself, so that we might hear His word not through a fleshly tongue, nor an angelic voice, nor a sound of thunder, nor the obscurity of a comparison, but might hear Him—Him whom we love in these things—without these, just as we two now reached out and with rapid thought touched on that Eternal Wisdom which remains over all. If this could be sustained, and other visions of a completely different kind were withdrawn, and this one ravished, absorbed, and enveloped its beholder amid these inward joys, so that his life might be eternally like that one moment of knowledge which we now longed for, would this not be "Enter into the joy of your Lord"? And when will that be? When we shall all rise again; but all shall not be changed.

25. We were saying, then, If to any man the tumult of the flesh were silenced — silenced the phantasies of earth, waters, and air — silenced, too, the poles; yea, the very soul be silenced to herself, and go beyond herself by not thinking of herself — silenced fancies and imaginary revelations, every tongue, and every sign, and whatsoever exists by passing away, since, if any could hearken, all these say, We created not ourselves, but were created by Him who abides for ever: If, having uttered this, they now should be silenced, having only quickened our ears to Him who created them, and He alone speak not by them, but by Himself, that we may hear His word, not by fleshly tongue, nor angelic voice, nor sound of thunder, nor the obscurity of a similitude, but might hear Him — Him whom in these we love — without these, like as we two now strained ourselves, and with rapid thought touched on that Eternal Wisdom which remains over all. If this could be sustained, and other visions of a far different kind be withdrawn, and this one ravish, and absorb, and envelope its beholder amid these inward joys, so that his life might be eternally like that one moment of knowledge which we now sighed after, were not this Enter into the joy of Your Lord? Matthew 25:21 And when shall that be? When we shall all rise again; but all shall not be changed.

Such things I was saying; and if not in this exact manner and these words, yet Lord, You know that on that day when we were talking like this, this world with all its pleasures became contemptible to us, even while we spoke. Then my mother said, "Son, as for myself, I no longer have any pleasure in anything in this life. What I still want here, and why I am here, I do not know, now that my hopes in this world are fulfilled. There was indeed one thing for which I wished to remain a little longer in this life, and that was so I might see you a Catholic Christian before I died. My God has exceeded this abundantly, so that I see you despising all earthly happiness, made His servant—what am I doing here?"

26. Such things was I saying; and if not after this manner, and in these words, yet, Lord, You know, that in that day when we were talking thus, this world with all its delights grew contemptible to us, even while we spoke. Then said my mother, Son, for myself, I have no longer any pleasure in anything in this life. What I want here further, and why I am here, I know not, now that my hopes in this world are satisfied. There was indeed one thing for which I wished to tarry a little in this life, and that was that I might see you a Catholic Christian before I died. My God has exceeded this abundantly, so that I see you despising all earthly felicity, made His servant — what do I here?

What reply I made to her about these things I do not clearly remember. However, barely five days later, or not much more, she fell ill with a fever. While she was sick, one day she fainted and briefly lost awareness of the things around her. We rushed to her side, but she quickly regained consciousness. Looking at me and my brother standing beside her, she asked us, "Where was I?" Then, gazing intently at us as we stood there stunned with grief, she said, "Here you will bury your mother." I remained silent and held back my tears. But my brother said something, expressing his wish that she might have the better fortune of dying in her own country rather than in a foreign land. When she heard this, she looked at him with a worried expression, her eyes reproving him for caring about such things. Then, looking at me, she said, "See what he says." Soon after, she spoke to both of us: "Lay this body anywhere—do not let concern for it trouble you at all. This one thing only I ask: that you remember me at the Lord's altar, wherever you may be." After she had expressed this wish in whatever words she could manage, she fell silent, suffering from her worsening illness.

27. What reply I made unto her to these things I do not well remember. However, scarcely five days after, or not much more, she was prostrated by fever; and while she was sick, she one day sank into a swoon, and was for a short time unconscious of visible things. We hurried up to her; but she soon regained her senses, and gazing on me and my brother as we stood by her, she said to us inquiringly, Where was I? Then looking intently at us stupefied with grief, Here, says she, shall you bury your mother. I was silent, and refrained from weeping; but my brother said something, wishing her, as the happier lot, to die in her own country and not abroad. She, when she heard this, with anxious countenance arrested him with her eye, as savouring of such things, and then gazing at me, Behold, says she, what he says; and soon after to us both she says, Lay this body anywhere, let not the care for it trouble you at all. This only I ask, that you will remember me at the Lord's altar, wherever you be. And when she had given forth this opinion in such words as she could, she was silent, being in pain with her increasing sickness.

As I reflected on your gifts, O invisible God, which you pour into the hearts of your faithful people and from which such wonderful results come, I rejoiced and gave thanks to you, remembering what I had known before—how she had always been deeply concerned about her burial place, which she had arranged and prepared for herself next to her husband's body. Because they had lived together very peacefully, she had also wanted (the human mind is so unable to grasp divine things) that this should be added to that happiness and be mentioned among people: that after her travels across the sea, it would be granted to her that both of them, so united on earth, should lie in the same grave. But I did not know when this pointless desire had, through the abundance of your goodness, stopped being in her heart, and I was filled with joy, marveling at what she had revealed to me. Indeed, even in that conversation we had at the window, when she said, "What am I doing here any longer?" she did not seem to want to die in her own country. I also heard later that while we were at Ostia, one day when I was away, she spoke with motherly confidence to some of my friends about despising this life and the blessing of death. When they—amazed at the courage you had given to her, a woman—asked her whether she was not afraid of leaving her body so far from her own city, she replied, "Nothing is far from God, nor do I need to fear that he will not know at the end of the world where to raise me up from." So on the ninth day of her illness, in the fifty-sixth year of her age and the thirty-third of mine, that religious and devout soul was set free from the body.

28. But, as I reflected on Your gifts, O you invisible God, which Thou instillest into the hearts of Your faithful ones, whence such marvellous fruits do spring, I did rejoice and give thanks unto You, calling to mind what I knew before, how she had ever burned with anxiety respecting her burial-place, which she had provided and prepared for herself by the body of her husband. For as they had lived very peacefully together, her desire had also been (so little is the human mind capable of grasping things divine) that this should be added to that happiness, and be talked of among men, that after her wandering beyond the sea, it had been granted her that they both, so united on earth, should lie in the same grave. But when this uselessness had, through the bounty of Your goodness, begun to be no longer in her heart, I knew not, and I was full of joy admiring what she had thus disclosed to me; though indeed in that our conversation in the window also, when she said, What do I here any longer? she appeared not to desire to die in her own country. I heard afterwards, too, that at the time we were at Ostia, with a maternal confidence she one day, when I was absent, was speaking with certain of my friends on the contemning of this life, and the blessing of death; and when they — amazed at the courage which You had given to her, a woman — asked her whether she did not dread leaving her body at such a distance from her own city, she replied, Nothing is far to God; nor need I fear lest He should be ignorant at the end of the world of the place whence He is to raise me up. On the ninth day, then, of her sickness, the fifty-sixth year of her age, and the thirty-third of mine, was that religious and devout soul set free from the body.

I closed her eyes, and a great sadness flooded into my heart and was turning into tears. At the same time, my eyes, through the violent control of my mind, sucked the fountain dry, and I was miserable in such a struggle. But as soon as she breathed her last, the boy Adeodatus burst out wailing. However, when we all checked him, he became quiet. In the same way, my own childish feeling, which was finding escape in tears through the youthful voice of my heart, was restrained and silenced. For we did not consider it fitting to celebrate that funeral with tearful complaints and groanings, since that is how people mourn those who die unhappy or are altogether dead. But she neither died unhappy, nor did she altogether die. For we were assured of this by the witness of her good conduct, her unfeigned faith, and other sufficient grounds.

29. I closed her eyes; and there flowed a great sadness into my heart, and it was passing into tears, when my eyes at the same time, by the violent control of my mind, sucked back the fountain dry, and woe was me in such a struggle! But, as soon as she breathed her last the boy Adeodatus burst out into wailing, but, being checked by us all, he became quiet. In like manner also my own childish feeling, which was, through the youthful voice of my heart, finding escape in tears, was restrained and silenced. For we did not consider it fitting to celebrate that funeral with tearful plaints and groanings; for on such wise are they who die unhappy, or are altogether dead, wont to be mourned. But she neither died unhappy, nor did she altogether die. For of this were we assured by the witness of her good conversation, her faith unfeigned, 1 Timothy 1:5 and other sufficient grounds.

What was it, then, that caused me such deep pain inside? It was the fresh wound from the sudden breaking off of our most sweet and dear habit of living together. I did find joy in her testimony when, during her final illness, she responded warmly to my devotion, called me kind, and remembered with great affection that she had never heard any harsh or reproachful word come from my mouth against her. But still, O my God who made us, how can the honor I showed her compare with her service to me? So when I was left without such great comfort from her, my soul was wounded, and that life was torn apart which had been made one from hers and mine together.

3o. What, then, was that which did grievously pain me within, but the newly-made wound, from having that most sweet and dear habit of living together suddenly broken off? I was full of joy indeed in her testimony, when, in that her last illness, flattering my dutifulness, she called me kind, and recalled, with great affection of love, that she had never heard any harsh or reproachful sound come out of my mouth against her. But yet, O my God, who made us, how can the honour which I paid to her be compared with her slavery for me? As, then, I was left destitute of so great comfort in her, my soul was stricken, and that life torn apart as it were, which, of hers and mine together, had been made but one.

When the boy was stopped from crying, Evodius picked up the Psalter and began to sing—with the whole household joining in—the Psalm: I will sing of mercy and judgment: unto You, O Lord. When people heard what we were doing, many brothers and religious women gathered together. While those responsible for such things prepared for the funeral according to custom, I went to a part of the house where I could appropriately be, along with those who thought I should not be left alone, and talked about things fitting for the moment. Through this comfort of truth I eased the anguish that You knew about, while they, unaware of it, listened carefully and thought I had no sense of sorrow at all. But in Your hearing, where none of them could hear, I criticized the weakness of my feelings and held back the flow of my grief, which gave way to me a little. But the intense emotion came back again, though not so much that I burst into tears or my expression changed, even though I knew what I was suppressing in my heart. And because I was extremely troubled that these human things had such power over me—things which must necessarily happen in the proper order and destiny of our natural condition—I grieved over my grief with a new sorrow, and was worn down by a double sadness.

31. The boy then being restrained from weeping, Evodius took up the Psalter, and began to sing — the whole house responding — the Psalm, I will sing of mercy and judgment: unto You, O Lord. But when they heard what we were doing, many brethren and religious women came together; and while they whose office it was were, according to custom, making ready for the funeral, I, in a part of the house where I conveniently could, together with those who thought that I ought not to be left alone, discoursed on what was suited to the occasion; and by this alleviation of truth mitigated the anguish known unto You — they being unconscious of it, listened intently, and thought me to be devoid of any sense of sorrow. But in Your ears, where none of them heard, did I blame the softness of my feelings, and restrained the flow of my grief, which yielded a little unto me; but the paroxysm returned again, though not so as to burst forth into tears, nor to a change of countenance, though I knew what I repressed in my heart. And as I was exceedingly annoyed that these human things had such power over me, which in the due order and destiny of our natural condition must of necessity come to pass, with a new sorrow I sorrowed for my sorrow, and was wasted by a twofold sadness.

When the body was carried out, we both went to the funeral and came back without shedding tears. Even during those prayers we poured out to You when the sacrifice of our redemption was offered up to You for her—with the dead body placed beside the grave, as was the custom there, before being laid in it—I did not weep during those prayers either. Yet I was deeply sad in secret all day long, and with a troubled mind I begged You, as best I could, to heal my sorrow, but You did not. I believe You were fixing in my memory, through this one experience, the power that all habit has over the mind, even a mind that no longer feeds on deceptive words. It also seemed good to me to go and bathe, having heard that the bath (balneum) takes its name from the Greek βαλανεῖον because it drives anxiety from the mind. Look, this too I confess to Your mercy, Father of the fatherless: I bathed and felt the same as I had before bathing. The bitterness of my grief did not flow out from my heart. Then I slept, and when I woke up I found my grief noticeably lessened. As I lay alone on my bed, those true verses of Your Ambrose came into my mind, for You are—

32. So, when the body was carried forth, we both went and returned without tears. For neither in those prayers which we poured forth unto You when the sacrifice of our redemption was offered up unto You for her — the dead body being now placed by the side of the grave, as the custom there is, prior to its being laid therein — neither in their prayers did I shed tears; yet was I most grievously sad in secret all the day, and with a troubled mind entreated You, as I was able, to heal my sorrow, but You did not; fixing, I believe, in my memory by this one lesson the power of the bonds of all habit, even upon a mind which now feeds not upon a fallacious word. It appeared to me also a good thing to go and bathe, I having heard that the bath [ balneum] took its name from the Greek βαλανεῖον, because it drives trouble from the mind. Lo, this also I confess unto Your mercy, Father of the fatherless, that I bathed, and felt the same as before I had done so. For the bitterness of my grief exuded not from my heart. Then I slept, and on awaking found my grief not a little mitigated; and as I lay alone upon my bed, there came into my mind those true verses of Your Ambrose, for You are —

O God, creator of all things and ruler of the heavens, clothing the day with beautiful light and the night with the grace of sleep, so that rest may restore our weary limbs for work, refresh our tired minds, and release us from sorrowful anxieties.

Deus creator omnium, Polique rector, vestiens Diem decora lumine, Noctem sopora gratia; Artus solutos ut quies Reddat laboris usui, Mentesque fessas allevet, Luctusque solvat anxios.

And then, little by little, I brought back my former thoughts about your handmaid, her devout way of life directed toward you, her holy tenderness and attentiveness toward us, which had been suddenly taken away from me. It felt good to weep in your sight, both for her and for me, concerning her and concerning myself. I released the tears that I had previously held back, allowing them to flow freely, pouring them out beneath my heart. My heart found rest in them, because your ears were near me—not the ears of any human being who would have placed a scornful interpretation on my weeping. But now, in writing, I confess it to you, O Lord. Let whoever wishes read it, and let him interpret it however he will. And if he finds that I have sinned by weeping for my mother for such a small part of an hour—that mother who was dead to my eyes for a short time, but who had wept for me for many years so that I might live in your eyes—let him not laugh at me. Rather, if he is a person of noble charity, let him weep for my sins against you, the Father of all the brothers of your Christ.

33. And then little by little did I bring back my former thoughts of Your handmaid, her devout conversation towards You, her holy tenderness and attentiveness towards us, which was suddenly taken away from me; and it was pleasant to me to weep in Your sight, for her and for me, concerning her and concerning myself. And I set free the tears which before I repressed, that they might flow at their will, spreading them beneath my heart; and it rested in them, for Your ears were near me — not those of man, who would have put a scornful interpretation on my weeping. But now in writing I confess it unto You, O Lord! Read it who will, and interpret how he will; and if he finds me to have sinned in weeping for my mother during so small a part of an hour — that mother who was for a while dead to my eyes, who had for many years wept for me, that I might live in Your eyes — let him not laugh at me, but rather, if he be a man of a noble charity, let him weep for my sins against You, the Father of all the brethren of Your Christ.

But now that my heart was healed from that wound, to the extent that it could be accused of a fleshly affection, I pour out to You, our God, on behalf of that handmaid of Yours, tears of a very different kind—tears that flow from a spirit broken by thoughts of the dangers facing every soul that dies in Adam. And although she, having been made alive in Christ even before she was freed from the flesh, had lived in such a way as to praise Your name both by her faith and conduct, yet I do not dare to say that from the time You regenerated her by baptism, no word went forth from her mouth against Your commandments. And it has been declared by Your Son, the Truth, that whoever says to his brother, "You fool," shall be in danger of hell fire. And woe even to the praiseworthy life of any person, if You were to examine it while setting aside mercy. But because You do not strictly scrutinize sins, we confidently hope to find some place of pardon with You. But whoever lists his true merits to You, what is he listing to You but Your own gifts? Oh, if only people would know themselves to be merely human, and let whoever boasts boast in the Lord!

34. But — my heart being now healed of that wound, in so far as it could be convicted of a carnal Romans 8:7 affection — I pour out unto You, O our God, on behalf of that Your handmaid, tears of a far different sort, even that which flows from a spirit broken by the thoughts of the dangers of every soul that dies in Adam. And although she, having been made alive in Christ even before she was freed from the flesh had so lived as to praise Your name both by her faith and conversation, yet dare I not say that from the time You regenerated her by baptism, no word went forth from her mouth against Your precepts. Matthew 12:36 And it has been declared by Your Son, the Truth, that Whosoever shall say to his brother, You fool, shall be in danger of hell fire. Matthew 5:22 And woe even unto the praiseworthy life of man, if, putting away mercy, You should investigate it. But because You do not narrowly inquire after sins, we hope with confidence to find some place of indulgence with You. But whosoever recounts his true merits to You, what is it that he recounts to You but Your own gifts? Oh, if men would know themselves to be men; and that he that glories would glory in the Lord! 2 Corinthians 10:17

O my Praise and my Life, God of my heart, I now set aside for a moment her good deeds, for which I joyfully give thanks to You, and instead plead with You for my mother's sins. Hear me, through that Medicine of our wounds who hung upon the tree and who, sitting at Your right hand, intercedes for us. I know that she acted mercifully and from her heart forgave her debtors their debts. So please forgive her debts—whatever she contracted during the many years since the water of salvation. Forgive her, O Lord, forgive her, I beg You. Do not enter into judgment with her. Let Your mercy be exalted above Your justice, because Your words are true, and You have promised mercy to the merciful—which You gave them to be, since You will have mercy on whom You will have mercy, and will have compassion on whom You have had compassion.

35. I then, O my Praise and my Life, Thou God of my heart, putting aside for a little her good deeds, for which I joyfully give thanks to You, do now beseech You for the sins of my mother. Hearken unto me, through that Medicine of our wounds who hung upon the tree, and who, sitting at Your right hand, makes intercession for us. Romans 8:34 I know that she acted mercifully, and from the heart Matthew 18:35 forgave her debtors their debts; do Thou also forgive her debts, whatever she contracted during so many years since the water of salvation. Forgive her, O Lord, forgive her, I beseech You; enter not into judgment with her. Let Your mercy be exalted above Your justice, James 2:13 because Your words are true, and You have promised mercy unto the merciful; Matthew 5:7 which You gave them to be who will have mercy on whom You will have mercy, and will have compassion on whom You have had compassion. Romans 9:15

I believe You have already done what I am asking You, but please accept these willing prayers from my mouth, O Lord. When the day of her death was approaching, she gave no thought to having her body expensively wrapped or embalmed with spices. She did not want an elaborate monument or desire to be buried in her family's burial place. She did not ask us to arrange these things, but only desired to have her name remembered at Your altar, which she had served without missing a single day. From that altar she knew the holy sacrifice was offered—the sacrifice by which the record of debt against us is erased, by which the enemy was defeated. That enemy tallies up our sins and searches for something to accuse us with, but found nothing in Him in whom we are victorious. Who will restore to Him the innocent blood? Who will repay Him the price He paid to purchase us, so as to take us away from Him? Your handmaid bound her soul to the sacrament of our redemption by the bond of faith. Let no one separate her from Your protection. Do not let the lion and the dragon force or trick their way in. For she will not claim that she owes nothing, in case she is proven wrong and overcome by the cunning deceiver. Instead, she will answer that her sins are forgiven by Him—the One to whom no one can repay the price which He, though owing nothing, paid for us.

36. And I believe You have already done that which I ask You; but accept the free-will offerings of my mouth, O Lord. For she, when the day of her dissolution was near at hand, took no thought to have her body sumptuously covered, or embalmed with spices; nor did she covet a choice monument, or desire her paternal burial-place. These things she entrusted not to us, but only desired to have her name remembered at Your altar, which she had served without the omission of a single day; whence she knew that the holy sacrifice was dispensed, by which the handwriting that was against us is blotted out; Colossians 2:14 by which the enemy was triumphed over, who, summing up our offenses, and searching for something to bring against us, found nothing in Him John 14:30 in whom we conquer. Who will restore to Him the innocent blood? Who will repay Him the price with which He bought us, so as to take us from Him? Unto the sacrament of which our ransom did Your handmaid bind her soul by the bond of faith. Let none separate her from Your protection. Let not the lion and the dragon introduce himself by force or fraud. For she will not reply that she owes nothing, lest she be convicted and got the better of by the wily deceiver; but she will answer that her sins are forgiven Matthew 9:2 by Him to whom no one is able to repay that price which He, owing nothing, laid down for us.

May she therefore rest in peace with her husband, before or after whom she married no one. She obeyed him, patiently bringing forth fruit for you so that she might win him over to you as well. And inspire, O my Lord my God, inspire your servants my brothers, your sons my masters, whom I serve with voice and heart and writings, that as many of them as read these confessions may remember Monica, your handmaid, at your altar, together with Patricius, her former husband, by whose flesh you brought me into this life, though I do not know how. May they with devout affection remember my parents in this passing life, my brothers who are under you our Father in our Catholic mother, and my fellow citizens in the eternal Jerusalem, for which your people's wandering sighs from their departure until their return. In this way may my mother's last request to me be more abundantly fulfilled for her through the prayers of many, by means of my confessions more than through my prayers alone.

37. May she therefore rest in peace with her husband, before or after whom she married none; whom she obeyed, with patience bringing forth fruit Luke 8:15 unto You, that she might gain him also for You. And inspire, O my Lord my God, inspire Your servants my brethren, Your sons my masters, who with voice and heart and writings I serve, that so many of them as shall read these confessions may at Your altar remember Monica, Your handmaid, together with Patricius, her sometime husband, by whose flesh You introduced me into this life, in what manner I know not. May they with pious affection be mindful of my parents in this transitory light, of my brethren that are under You our Father in our Catholic mother, and of my fellow citizens in the eternal Jerusalem, which the wandering of Your people sighs for from their departure until their return. That so my mother's last entreaty to me may, through my confessions more than through my prayers, be more abundantly fulfilled to her through the prayers of many.

O my God, let me remember and confess to you with gratitude the mercies you have shown me. Let my bones be soaked in your love, and let them say, Who is like you, O Lord? You have freed me from my chains, and I will offer you the sacrifice of thanksgiving. I will explain how you freed me, and all who worship you will say when they hear this: Blessed be the Lord in heaven and earth, great and wonderful is his name. Your words had penetrated deeply into my heart, and I was surrounded by you on every side. I was now certain of your eternal life, though I had seen it through a glass darkly. I no longer doubted that there was an incorruptible substance from which all other substance came. I didn't need to be more certain of you, but more steady in you. As for my earthly life, everything was uncertain, and my heart needed to be cleansed from the old leaven. The Way, the Savior himself, was attractive to me, but I still didn't want to go through its narrow path. And you put it in my mind, and it seemed right to me, to go to Simplicianus, who seemed to me a faithful servant of yours, and your grace shone in him. I had also heard that from his youth he had lived completely devoted to you. He had now grown old, and because of his great age spent in such devoted following of your ways, he seemed likely to have gained much experience—and he truly had. From this experience I wanted him to tell me, after I explained my troubles to him, what would be the best way for someone suffering as I was to walk in your way.

1. O My God, let me with gratitude remember and confess unto You Your mercies bestowed upon me. Let my bones be steeped in Your love, and let them say, Who is like You, O Lord? You have loosed my bonds, I will offer unto You the sacrifice of thanksgiving. And how You have loosed them I will declare; and all who worship You when they hear these things shall say: Blessed be the Lord in heaven and earth, great and wonderful is His name. Your words had stuck fast into my breast, and I was hedged round about by You on every side. Job 1:10 Of Your eternal life I was now certain, although I had seen it through a glass darkly. 1 Corinthians 13:12 Yet I no longer doubted that there was an incorruptible substance, from which was derived all other substance; nor did I now desire to be more certain of You, but more steadfast in You. As for my temporal life, all things were uncertain, and my heart had to be purged from the old leaven. 1 Corinthians 5:7 The Way, John 14:6 the Saviour Himself, was pleasant unto me, but as yet I disliked to pass through its straightness. And Thou put into my mind, and it seemed good in my eyes, to go unto Simplicianus, who appeared to me a faithful servant of Yours, and Your grace shone in him. I had also heard that from his very youth he had lived most devoted to You. Now he had grown into years, and by reason of so great age, passed in such zealous following of Your ways, he appeared to me likely to have gained much experience; and so in truth he had. Out of which experience I desired him to tell me (setting before him my griefs) which would be the most fitting way for one afflicted as I was to walk in Your way.

I saw that the Church was full of people, with some going one way and others another. But I was unhappy that I lived a worldly life. Now that my desires no longer stirred me with hopes of honor and wealth as they once did, it was an extremely heavy burden to endure such great slavery. Compared with Your sweetness and the beauty of Your house, which I loved, those things no longer pleased me. But I was still very firmly held by the love of women. The apostle did not forbid me to marry, though he urged me toward something better, particularly wishing that all people were as he himself was. But I, being weak, chose the more pleasant option, and because of this alone I was thrown back and forth in everything else, weak and exhausted with draining anxieties, because in other matters I was forced, though unwilling, to accept a married life to which I was given over and enslaved. I had heard from the mouth of truth that there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake; but, He says, let the one who is able to receive this receive it. Certainly, all people are foolish who do not have knowledge of God and who could not discover Him who is good from the good things that are visible. But I was no longer caught in that foolishness; I had risen above it, and through the united testimony of Your entire creation had found You, our Creator, and Your Word, God with You, and together with You and the Holy Spirit one God, by whom You created all things. There is still another kind of ungodly people who, when they knew God, did not glorify Him as God or give thanks. I too had fallen into this, but Your right hand upheld me and carried me away, and You placed me where I could recover. For You have said to man, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and do not desire to appear wise, because those who professed themselves to be wise became fools. But I had now found the precious pearl, which I should have bought by selling all that I had, and I hesitated.

2. For the Church I saw to be full, and one went this way, and another that. But it was displeasing to me that I led a secular life; yea, now that my passions had ceased to excite me as of old with hopes of honour and wealth, a very grievous burden it was to undergo so great a servitude. For, compared with Your sweetness, and the beauty of Your house, which I loved, those things delighted me no longer. But still very tenaciously was I held by the love of women; nor did the apostle forbid me to marry, although he exhorted me to something better, especially wishing that all men were as he himself was. 1 Corinthians 7:7 But I, being weak, made choice of the more agreeable place, and because of this alone was tossed up and down in all beside, faint and languishing with withering cares, because in other matters I was compelled, though unwilling, to agree to a married life, to which I was given up and enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of truth that there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake; but, says He, he that is able to receive it, let him receive it. Matthew 19:12 Vain, assuredly, are all men in whom the knowledge of God is not, and who could not, out of the good things which are seen, find out Him who is good. Wisdom 13:1 But I was no longer in that vanity; I had surmounted it, and by the united testimony of Your whole creation had found You, our Creator, and Your Word, God with You, and together with You and the Holy Ghost one God, by whom You created all things. There is yet another kind of impious men, who when they knew God, they glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful. Romans 1:21 Into this also had I fallen; but Your right hand held me up, and bore me away, and You placed me where I might recover. For You have said to man, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; Job 28:28 and desire not to seem wise, Proverbs 3:7 because, Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools. Romans 1:22 But I had now found the goodly pearl, which, selling all that I had, Matthew 13:46 I ought to have bought; and I hesitated.

I went to Simplicianus, who was like a father to Ambrose (then a bishop) in receiving God's grace, and whom Ambrose truly loved as a father. I told him about the twists and turns of my errors. When I mentioned that I had read certain books of the Platonists, which Victorinus—a former Professor of Rhetoric at Rome who died as a Christian, I had been told—had translated into Latin, he congratulated me that I had not stumbled upon the writings of other philosophers. Those writings were full of deceptions and lies, following the basic principles of the world, while the Platonist books in many ways led toward belief in God and His word. Then, to encourage me toward the humility of Christ, which is hidden from the wise and revealed to little children, he told me about Victorinus himself, whom he had known very well when Victorinus was in Rome. What he told me about Victorinus I will not keep silent, for it contains great praise of God's grace, which should be confessed to You. This most learned old man was highly skilled in all the liberal arts and had read, critiqued, and explained many philosophical works. He was the teacher of many noble senators. As recognition of his excellent service, he had earned and received a statue in the Roman Forum—which people of this world consider a great honor. Yet even at that advanced age, he was a worshiper of idols and took part in the sacrilegious rites to which almost all the nobility of Rome were devoted, and he had filled the people with love of—

3. To Simplicianus then I went — the father of Ambrose (at that time a bishop) in receiving Your grace, and whom he truly loved as a father. To him I narrated the windings of my error. But when I mentioned to him that I had read certain books of the Platonists, which Victorinus, sometime Professor of Rhetoric at Rome (who died a Christian, as I had been told), had translated into Latin, he congratulated me that I had not fallen upon the writings of other philosophers, which were full of fallacies and deceit, after the rudiments of the world, Colossians 2:8 whereas they, in many ways, led to the belief in God and His word. Then, to exhort me to the humility of Christ, hidden from the wise, and revealed to little ones, Matthew 11:25 he spoke of Victorinus himself, whom, while he was at Rome, he had known very intimately; and of him he related that about which I will not be silent. For it contains great praise of Your grace, which ought to be confessed unto You, how that most learned old man, highly skilled in all the liberal sciences, who had read, criticised, and explained so many works of the philosophers; the teacher of so many noble senators; who also, as a mark of his excellent discharge of his duties, had (which men of this world esteem a great honour) both merited and obtained a statue in the Roman Forum, he — even to that age a worshipper of idols, and a participator in the sacrilegious rites to which almost all the nobility of Rome were wedded, and had inspired the people with the love of

The dog-god Anubis and a mixed group of monstrous gods who stand armed against Neptune, against Venus and Minerva, and against Mars clad in steel

The dog Anubis, and a medley crew Of monster gods [who] 'gainst Neptune stand in arms, 'Gainst Venus and Minerva, steel-clad Mars,

whom Rome once conquered and now worshipped. Old Victorinus had defended all these things for so many years with thundering eloquence. Yet he was not ashamed to become a child of Your Christ and an infant at Your fountain, submitting his neck to the yoke of humility and bowing his forehead to the reproach of the Cross.

whom Rome once conquered, now worshipped, all which old Victorinus had with thundering eloquence defended so many years — he now blushed not to be the child of Your Christ, and an infant at Your fountain, submitting his neck to the yoke of humility, and subduing his forehead to the reproach of the Cross.

O Lord, Lord, who bent down the heavens and came down, who touched the mountains and they smoked, by what means did You enter into that man's heart? He used to read, as Simplicianus said, the Holy Scripture very carefully and studied all the Christian writings thoroughly. He said to Simplicianus—not openly, but privately, as a friend—Know that I am a Christian. Simplicianus replied, I will not believe it, nor will I count you among the Christians unless I see you in the Church of Christ. Victorinus answered mockingly, Is it then the walls that make Christians? He said this often, claiming he was already a Christian. Simplicianus kept giving the same answer, and Victorinus kept bringing up this joke about the walls. The reason was that he feared offending his friends, proud demon-worshippers. From the height of their Babylonian dignity, like the cedars of Lebanon which the Lord had not yet broken down, he thought a storm of hostility would come down on him. But later, through reading and investigation, he gained strength and feared that Christ would deny him before the holy angels if he was now afraid to confess Him before men, and he felt himself guilty of a great wrong in being ashamed of the sacraments of the humility of Your word, while not being ashamed of the sacrilegious rites of those proud demons, whose pride he had imitated and whose rites he had adopted. He became bold against vanity and ashamed toward the truth, and suddenly and unexpectedly said to Simplicianus—as Simplicianus himself told me—Let us go to the church; I wish to be made a Christian. Simplicianus, unable to contain his joy, went with him. After being admitted to the first sacraments of instruction, Victorinus soon afterward gave his name so that he might be reborn through baptism. Rome was amazed, and the Church rejoiced. The proud saw it and were enraged; they gnashed their teeth and melted away. But the Lord God was the hope of Your servant, and He paid no attention to vanities and lying madness.

4. O Lord, Lord, who has bowed the heavens and come down, touched the mountains and they did smoke, by what means did You convey Yourself into that bosom? He used to read, as Simplicianus said, the Holy Scripture, most studiously sought after and searched into all the Christian writings, and said to Simplicianus, — not openly, but secretly, and as a friend — Know that I am a Christian. To which he replied, I will not believe it, nor will I rank you among the Christians unless I see you in the Church of Christ. Whereupon he replied derisively, Is it then the walls that make Christians? And this he often said, that he already was a Christian; and Simplidanus making the same answer, the conceit of the walls was by the other as often renewed. For he was fearful of offending his friends, proud demon-worshippers, from the height of whose Babylonian dignity, as from cedars of Lebanon which had not yet been broken by the Lord, he thought a storm of enmity would descend upon him. But after that, from reading and inquiry, he had derived strength, and feared lest he should be denied by Christ before the holy angels if he now was afraid to confess Him before men, Luke 9:26 and appeared to himself guilty of a great fault in being ashamed of the sacraments of the humility of Your word, and not being ashamed of the sacrilegious rites of those proud demons, whose pride he had imitated and their rites adopted, he became bold-faced against vanity, and shame-faced toward the truth, and suddenly and unexpectedly said to Simplicianus, — as he himself informed me — Let us go to the church; I wish to be made a Christian. But he, not containing himself for joy, accompanied him. And having been admitted to the first sacraments of instruction, he not long after gave in his name, that he might be regenerated by baptism — Rome marvelling, and the Church rejoicing. The proud saw, and were enraged; they gnashed with their teeth, and melted away! But the Lord God was the hope of Your servant, and He regarded not vanities and lying madness.

When the time finally came for him to make his profession of faith (which in Rome those who are about to receive Your grace customarily deliver from a raised platform, in view of the faithful congregation, using a memorized set formula), the presbyters, he said, offered to let Victorinus make his profession more privately, as was the custom for those who might be afraid due to shyness. But he chose instead to profess his salvation in the presence of the holy congregation. After all, what he taught in rhetoric was not salvation, yet he had publicly professed that. How much less, then, should he fear Your gentle flock when speaking Your word, since he had not been afraid of the mad crowds when delivering his own words! So when he went up to make his profession, everyone who recognized him whispered his name to one another with voices of congratulation. And who among them didn't know him? A low murmur ran through the mouths of all the rejoicing crowd: Victorinus! Victorinus! There was a sudden burst of joy at the sight of him, and then suddenly they fell silent so they could hear him. He declared the true faith with excellent boldness, and everyone wanted to draw him to their very heart—yes, through their love and joy they drew him there. Those were the hands that took hold of him.

5. Finally, when the hour arrived for him to make profession of his faith (which at Rome they who are about to approach Your grace are wont to deliver from an elevated place, in view of the faithful people, in a set form of words learned by heart), the presbyters, he said, offered Victorinus to make his profession more privately, as the custom was to do to those who were likely, through bashfulness, to be afraid; but he chose rather to profess his salvation in the presence of the holy assembly. For it was not salvation that he taught in rhetoric, and yet he had publicly professed that. How much less, therefore, ought he, when pronouncing Your word, to dread Your meek flock, who, in the delivery of his own words, had not feared the mad multitudes! So, then, when he ascended to make his profession, all, as they recognised him, whispered his name one to the other, with a voice of congratulation. And who was there among them that did not know him? And there ran a low murmur through the mouths of all the rejoicing multitude, Victorinus! Victorinus! Sudden was the burst of exultation at the sight of him; and suddenly were they hushed, that they might hear him. He pronounced the true faith with an excellent boldness, and all desired to take him to their very heart — yea, by their love and joy they took him there; such were the hands with which they took him.

Good God, what happens in human nature that makes us rejoice more over the salvation of a soul that was despaired of and rescued from greater danger than if there had always been hope for that person or the danger had been less? For You too, O merciful Father, rejoice over one sinner who repents more than over ninety-nine just persons who need no repentance. And we hear with great joy, whenever we hear, how the lost sheep is brought home again on the Shepherd's shoulders while the angels rejoice, and the coin is restored to Your treasury with the neighbors rejoicing with the woman who found it, and the joy of the solemn service of Your house moves us to tears when in Your house it is read about Your younger son that he was dead and is alive again, and was lost and is found. For You rejoice both in us and in Your angels, holy through holy charity. For You are always the same; for all things that do not remain the same or forever, You always know in the same manner.

6. Good God, what passed in man to make him rejoice more at the salvation of a soul despaired of, and delivered from greater danger, than if there had always been hope of him, or the danger had been less? For so Thou also, O merciful Father, rejoice over one sinner that repents, more than over ninety-nine just persons that need no repentance. And with much joyfulness do we hear, whenever we hear, how the lost sheep is brought home again on the Shepherd's shoulders, while the angels rejoice, and the drachma is restored to Your treasury, the neighhours rejoicing with the woman who found it; Luke 15:4-10 and the joy of the solemn service of Your house constrains to tears, when in Your house it is read of Your younger son that he was dead, and is alive again, and was lost, and is found. Luke 15:32 For You rejoice both in us and in Your angels, holy through holy charity. For You are ever the same; for all things which abide neither the same nor for ever, Thou ever know after the same manner.

What, then, happens in the soul when it delights more in finding or having restored to it the thing it loves than if it had always possessed it? Yes, and other things bear witness to this truth, and all things are full of witnesses, crying out that this is so. The victorious commander triumphs, yet he would not have conquered if he had not fought, and the greater the danger of the battle, the greater the joy of the triumph. The storm tosses the sailors and threatens shipwreck, and everyone grows pale at the approach of death; but when sky and sea grow calm, they rejoice greatly, just as they had feared greatly. A loved one is sick, and his pulse shows danger; all who desire his safety become sick at heart. He recovers, though not yet able to walk with his former strength, and there is such joy as did not exist before when he walked healthy and strong. Yes, even the pleasures of human life—not only those that rush upon us unexpectedly and against our will, but those that are voluntary and planned—people obtain through difficulties. There is no pleasure at all in eating and drinking unless the pains of hunger and thirst come first. And drunkards eat certain salty foods in order to create a troublesome heat, which the drink then relieves and causes pleasure. It is also the custom that the engaged bride should not immediately be given up, so that the husband may not value her less than when, as his betrothed, he longed for her.

7. What, then, passes in the soul when it more delights at finding or having restored to it the thing it loves than if it had always possessed them? Yea, and other things bear witness hereunto; and all things are full of witnesses, crying out, So it is. The victorious commander triumphs; yet he would not have conquered had he not fought, and the greater the peril of the battle, the more the rejoicing of the triumph. The storm tosses the voyagers, threatens shipwreck, and every one waxes pale at the approach of death; but sky and sea grow calm, and they rejoice much, as they feared much. A loved one is sick, and his pulse indicates danger; all who desire his safety are at once sick at heart: he recovers, though not able as yet to walk with his former strength, and there is such joy as was not before when he walked sound and strong. Yea, the very pleasures of human life — not those only which rush upon us unexpectedly, and against our wills, but those that are voluntary and designed — do men obtain by difficulties. There is no pleasure at all in eating and drinking unless the pains of hunger and thirst go before. And drunkards eat certain salt meats with the view of creating a troublesome heat, which the drink allaying causes pleasure. It is also the custom that the affianced bride should not immediately be given up, that the husband may not less esteem her whom, as betrothed, he longed not for.

This principle applies to shameful and sinful joy, to the joy that is permitted and lawful, to the genuineness of true friendship, and to Him who was dead and lived again, had been lost and was found. Greater joy is always preceded by greater pain. What does this mean, O Lord my God, when You are an everlasting joy to Yourself, and some things around You are always rejoicing in You? What does it mean that this portion of creation rises and falls this way, alternately offended and reconciled? Is this their nature, and is this all You have assigned to them—whereas from the highest heaven to the lowest earth, from the beginning of the world to its end, from the angel to the worm, from the first motion to the last, You place each thing in its proper place and appoint each its proper time, everything good according to its kind? Woe is me! How high You are in the highest, and how deep in the deepest! You never withdraw anywhere, yet we scarcely return to You.

8. This law obtains in base and accursed joy; in that joy also which is permitted and lawful; in the sincerity of honest friendship; and in Him who was dead, and lived again, had been lost, and was found. Luke 15:32 The greater joy is everywhere preceded by the greater pain. What means this, O Lord my God, when You are, an everlasting joy unto Your own self, and some things about You are ever rejoicing in You? What means this, that this portion of things thus ebbs and flows, alternately offended and reconciled? Is this the fashion of them, and is this all You have allotted to them, whereas from the highest heaven to the lowest earth, from the beginning of the world to its end, from the angel to the worm, from the first movement unto the last, You set each in its right place, and appointed each its proper seasons, everything good after its kind? Woe is me! How high are You in the highest, and how deep in the deepest! Thou withdrawest no whither, and scarcely do we return to You.

Act quickly, Lord; stir us up and call us back. Set us on fire and draw us to You; stir us up and become sweet to us. Let us love You now; let us run after You. Don't many people return to You from an even deeper hell of blindness than Victorinus experienced, and approach You and are enlightened, receiving that light? Those who receive it receive power from You to become Your sons. But if they are less well-known among the people, even those who know them have less joy over them. For when many rejoice together, each person's joy is fuller because they are stirred up and inflamed by one another. Again, because those who are known to many influence many toward salvation and take the lead with many following them, those who came before them also rejoice much over them, because they don't rejoice in them alone. May it never be that in Your tabernacle the persons of the rich are accepted before the poor, or the noble before the ignoble, since You have rather chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty, and the base things of the world and things which are despised You have chosen, yes, and things which are not, to bring to nothing things that are. And yet even that least of the apostles, by whose tongue You sound out these words, when Paulus the proconsul—his pride overcome by the apostle's warfare—was made to pass under the easy yoke of Your Christ and became a provincial of the great King, he also, instead of his former name Saul, desired to be called Paul, as testimony of so great a victory. For the enemy is more overcome in someone of whom he has more hold, and by whom he has hold of more people. But he has more hold of the proud because of their nobility, and through them he has hold of more people because of their authority. Therefore, the more welcome was the heart of Victorinus considered, which the devil had held as an unassailable retreat, and the tongue of Victorinus, with which mighty and cutting weapon he had slain many, the more abundantly should Your sons rejoice, seeing that our King has bound the strong man, and they saw his vessels taken from him and cleansed, and made fit for Your honor, and become useful for the Lord for every good work.

9. Haste, Lord, and act; stir us up, and call us back; inflame us, and draw us to You; stir us up, and grow sweet unto us; let us now love You, let us run after You. Song of Songs 1:4 Do not many men, out of a deeper hell of blindness than that of Victorinus, return unto You, and approach, and are enlightened, receiving that light, which they that receive, receive power from You to become Your sons? John 1:12 But if they be less known among the people, even they that know them joy less for them. For when many rejoice together, the joy of each one is the fuller in that they are incited and inflamed by one another. Again, because those that are known to many influence many towards salvation, and take the lead with many to follow them. And, therefore, do they also who preceded them much rejoice in regard to them, because they rejoice not in them alone. May it be averted that in Your tabernacle the persons of the rich should be accepted before the poor, or the noble before the ignoble; since rather You have chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty and base things of the world, and things which are despised, have You chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to naught things that are. 1 Corinthians 1:27-28 And yet, even that least of the apostles, 1 Corinthians 15:9 by whose tongue You sound out these words, when Paulus the proconsul Acts 13:12 — his pride overcome by the apostle's warfare — was made to pass under the easy yoke Matthew 11:30 of Your Christ, and became a provincial of the great King, — he also, instead of Saul, his former name, desired to be called Paul, in testimony of so great a victory. For the enemy is more overcome in one of whom he has more hold, and by whom he has hold of more. But the proud has he more hold of by reason of their nobility; and by them of more, by reason of their authority. By how much the more welcome, then, was the heart of Victorinus esteemed, which the devil had held as an unassailable retreat, and the tongue of Victorinus, with which mighty and cutting weapon he had slain many; so much the more abundantly should Your sons rejoice, seeing that our King has bound the strong man, Matthew 12:29 and they saw his vessels taken from him and cleansed, and made meet for Your honour, and become serviceable for the Lord unto every good work. 2 Timothy 2:21

But when that man of Yours, Simplicianus, told me this story about Victorinus, I burned with desire to imitate him; and that was the very purpose for which he had told it. But when he had also added that during the reign of Emperor Julian, a law was passed that forbade Christians from teaching grammar and rhetoric, and Victorinus, in obedience to this law, chose rather to abandon his school of words than Your Word, by which You make eloquent the tongues of the dumb—he seemed to me not so much brave as blessed, in having found an opportunity to serve You alone, which was something I was longing for, though I was bound, not by someone else's chains, but by my own iron will. My will was controlled by the enemy, and from it he had made a chain for me and bound me. For from a perverse will came lust; and lust indulged became habit; and habit not resisted became necessity. By these links, as it were, connected together (which is why I call it a chain), a harsh slavery held me captive. But that new will which had begun to develop in me, to worship You freely and to desire to enjoy You, O God, the only certain joy, was not yet able to overcome my former willfulness, strengthened by long indulgence. Thus my two wills, one old and the other new, one carnal, the other spiritual, struggled within me; and by their conflict they tore my soul apart.

10. But when that man of Yours, Simplicianus, related this to me about Victorinus, I burned to imitate him; and it was for this end he had related it. But when he had added this also, that in the time of the Emperor Julian, there was a law made by which Christians were forbidden to teach grammar and oratory, and he, in obedience to this law, chose rather to abandon the wordy school than Your word, by which You make eloquent the tongues of the dumb, Wisdom 10:21 — he appeared to me not more brave than happy, in having thus discovered an opportunity of waiting on You only, which thing I was sighing for, thus bound, not with the irons of another, but my own iron will. My will was the enemy master of, and thence had made a chain for me and bound me. Because of a perverse will was lust made; and lust indulged in became custom; and custom not resisted became necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together (whence I term it a chain), did a hard bondage hold me enthralled. givest away thy strength to resist him in the rest; when the hem is worn, the whole garment will ravel out, if it be not mended by timely repentance. See Müller, Lehre von der Sünde, book v., where the beginnings and alarming progress of evil in the soul are graphically described. See 9JKLJKLsec. 18, note, below }}–> But that new will which had begun to develope in me, freely to worship You, and to wish to enjoy You, O God, the only sure enjoyment, was not able as yet to overcome my former wilfulness, made strong by long indulgence. Thus did my two wills, one old and the other new, one carnal, the other spiritual, contend within me; and by their discord they unstrung my soul.

I came to understand from my own experience what I had read—how the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh. I truly desired both, but more so what I approved in myself than what I disapproved in myself. For in the latter case, it was no longer really me doing it, because I was suffering against my will much more than acting willingly. Yet it was through me that habit gained more power to fight against me, because I had willingly arrived at a place I didn't want to be. And who can justly object when rightful punishment follows the sinner? I no longer had my usual excuse—that I still hesitated to rise above the world and serve You because I wasn't certain of the truth—for now it was certain. But I, still tied to earthly things, refused to be Your soldier. I was as afraid of being freed from all hindrances as we ought to fear being hindered.

11. Thus came I to understand, from my own experience, what I had read, how that the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh. Galatians 5:17 I verily lusted both ways; yet more in that which I approved in myself, than in that which I disapproved in myself. For in this last it was now rather not I, Romans 7:20 because in much I rather suffered against my will than did it willingly. And yet it was through me that custom became more combative against me, because I had come willingly whither I willed not. And who, then, can with any justice speak against it, when just punishment follows the sinner? Nor had I now any longer my wonted excuse, that as yet I hesitated to be above the world and serve You, because my perception of the truth was uncertain; for now it was certain. But I, still bound to the earth, refused to be Your soldier; and was as much afraid of being freed from all embarrassments, as we ought to fear to be embarrassed.

I was sweetly burdened with the baggage of the world, like someone half asleep. My thoughts about You were like the efforts of people trying to wake up who, still weighed down by heavy drowsiness, sink back into sleep again. Just as no one wants to sleep forever, and everyone agrees in their right mind that being awake is better, yet a person usually puts off shaking off sleepiness when their whole body feels heavy and sluggish, and even though they're annoyed by it, they keep giving in to it pleasurably even after it's time to get up—this is exactly how I was. I knew it would be much better for me to surrender myself to Your love than to give myself over to my own selfish desires. But while the former course convinced and conquered me, the latter one attracted me and held me in chains. I had no answer when You called to me, "Awake, you that sleep, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light." And when You showed me on every side that what You said was true, I was convicted by the truth but had absolutely nothing to reply except lazy, drowsy words: "In a minute, yes, in a minute; just leave me a little while longer." But "in a minute" never came, and "just a little while longer" went on for a long time. It was useless that I delighted in Your law in my inner being, when another law in my body parts waged war against the law of my mind and made me a prisoner to the law of sin that exists in my body parts. For the law of sin is the brute force of habit, by which the mind is dragged along and held captive even against its will—and it deserves to be held this way because it fell into it so willingly. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death except Your grace alone, through Jesus Christ our Lord?

12. Thus with the baggage of the world was I sweetly burdened, as when in slumber; and the thoughts wherein I meditated upon You were like the efforts of those desiring to awake, who, still overpowered with a heavy drowsiness, are again steeped therein. And as no one desires to sleep always, and in the sober judgment of all waking is better, yet does a man generally defer to shake off drowsiness, when there is a heavy lethargy in all his limbs, and, though displeased, yet even after it is time to rise with pleasure yields to it, so was I assured that it were much better for me to give up myself to Your charity, than to yield myself to my own cupidity; but the former course satisfied and vanquished me, the latter pleased me and fettered me. Nor had I anything to answer You calling to me, Awake, you that sleep, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light. Ephesians 5:14 And to You showing me on every side, that what Thou said was true, I, convicted by the truth, had nothing at all to reply, but the drawling and drowsy words: Presently, lo, presently; Leave me a little while. But presently, presently, had no present; and my leave me a little while went on for a long while. In vain did I delight in Your law after the inner man, when another law in my members warred against the law of my mind, and brought me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. For the law of sin is the violence of custom, whereby the mind is drawn and held, even against its will; deserving to be so held in that it so willingly falls into it. O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death but Your grace only, through Jesus Christ our Lord?

And so now I will declare and confess to your name, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer, how you delivered me from the bonds of fleshly desire, by which I was very tightly bound, and from the slavery of worldly affairs. As my anxiety grew, I was carrying out my usual business and sighing to you daily. I went to your church as often as I could, whenever the work under whose weight I groaned left me free. Alypius was with me, having become free from his legal work after serving as assessor for the third time, and now waiting for private clients to whom he could sell his advice, just as I used to sell the skill of speaking, if such a thing can be provided through teaching. Nebridius had agreed, out of friendship to us, to teach under Verecundus, a citizen and grammar teacher of Milan and a very close friend of all of us. Verecundus urgently wanted and, by the claim of friendship, demanded from our circle the reliable help he badly needed. Nebridius was not drawn to this by any desire for profit (he could have earned much more from his learning if he had wished), but as a very kind and generous friend, he did not want to fail in a friendly duty and ignore our request. However, he handled this very carefully, making sure not to become known to people whom the world considers important. In this way he avoided mental distraction, since he wanted to keep his mind free and available for as many hours as possible to investigate, read, or learn something about wisdom.

13. And how, then, Thou delivered me out of the bonds of carnal desire, wherewith I was most firmly fettered, and out of the drudgery of worldly business, will I now declare and confess unto Your name, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer. Amid increasing anxiety, I was transacting my usual affairs, and daily sighing unto You. I resorted as frequently to Your church as the business, under the burden of which I groaned, left me free to do. Alypius was with me, being after the third sitting disengaged from his legal occupation, and awaiting further opportunity of selling his counsel, as I was wont to sell the power of speaking, if it can be supplied by teaching. But Nebridius had, on account of our friendship, consented to teach under Verecundus, a citizen and a grammarian of Milan, and a very intimate friend of us all; who vehemently desired, and by the right of friendship demanded from our company, the faithful aid he greatly stood in need of. Nebridius, then, was not drawn to this by any desire of gain (for he could have made much more of his learning had he been so inclined), but, as a most sweet and kindly friend, he would not be wanting in an office of friendliness, and slight our request. But in this he acted very discreetly, taking care not to become known to those personages whom the world esteems great; thus avoiding distraction of mind, which he desired to have free and at leisure as many hours as possible, to search, or read, or hear something concerning wisdom.

One day, Nebridius was away for some reason I don't remember. A man named Pontitianus came to our house to see Alypius and me. He was our countryman, being from Africa, and held a high position in the emperor's court. I don't know what he wanted from us, but we sat down to talk together. During our conversation, he noticed a book on a table in front of us that we used for games. He picked it up, opened it, and to his surprise found it was the letters of the Apostle Paul—he had assumed it was one of the books I was wearing myself out teaching. At this he looked up at me with a smile and expressed his delight and wonder that he had so unexpectedly found this book, and only this book, before my eyes. For he was a Christian and had been baptized, and he often prostrated himself before You our God in the church in constant and daily prayers. When I told him that I devoted much effort to these writings, a conversation began in which he spoke of Antony, the Egyptian monk, whose name was highly esteemed among Your servants, though up to that time we had not heard of him. When he discovered this, he spent more time on that subject, giving us knowledge of this very eminent man and marveling at our ignorance. But we were amazed, hearing of Your wonderful works so clearly demonstrated in such recent times, almost in our own day, accomplished in the true faith and the Catholic Church. We all wondered—we, that these works were so great, and he, that we had never heard of them.

14. Upon a certain day, then, Nebridius being away (why, I do not remember), lo, there came to the house to see Alypius and me, Pontitianus, a countryman of ours, in so far as he was an African, who held high office in the emperor's court. What he wanted with us I know not, but we sat down to talk together, and it fell out that upon a table before us, used for games, he noticed a book; he took it up, opened it, and, contrary to his expectation, found it to be the Apostle Paul — for he imagined it to be one of those books which I was wearing myself out in teaching. At this he looked up at me smilingly, and expressed his delight and wonder that he had so unexpectedly found this book, and this only, before my eyes. For he was both a Christian and baptized, and often prostrated himself before You our God in the church, in constant and daily prayers. When, then, I had told him that I bestowed much pains upon these writings, a conversation ensued on his speaking of Antony, the Egyptian monk, whose name was in high repute among Your servants, though up to that time not familiar to us. When he came to know this, he lingered on that topic, imparting to us a knowledge of this man so eminent, and marvelling at our ignorance. But we were amazed, hearing Your wonderful works most fully manifested in times so recent, and almost in our own, wrought in the true faith and the Catholic Church. We all wondered — we, that they were so great, and he, that we had never heard of them.

From this, his conversation turned to the communities in the monasteries and their way of life so pleasing to You, and to the fruitful deserts of the wilderness—things we knew nothing about. There was a monastery at Milan full of good brothers outside the city walls, under the care of Ambrose, and we had been unaware of it. He continued his account, and we listened intently and in silence. He then told us how one afternoon at Trier, when the emperor was occupied with watching the circus games, he and three of his companions went out for a walk in the gardens near the city walls. There, as they happened to walk in pairs, one wandered off with him while the other two went by themselves. These two, in their wandering, came upon a cottage inhabited by some of Your servants, poor in spirit, of whom is the kingdom of heaven. There they found a book containing the life of Antony. One of them began to read it and was filled with wonder and set on fire by it. As he read, he began to think about embracing such a life and giving up his worldly career to serve You. These men belonged to the group called Agents for Public Affairs. Then, suddenly overwhelmed with a holy love and a sober sense of shame, angry with himself, he turned his eyes on his friend and said, "Tell me, I beg you, what goal are we aiming for with all these labors of ours? What is our purpose? What motivates us in our service? Can our hopes at court rise any higher than to become the emperor's ministers? And in such a position, what is not fragile and full of danger, and through how many dangers do we reach even greater danger? And when do we arrive there? But if I want to become a friend of God, look—I can become one right now." He spoke these words, and in the birth pangs of a new life, he turned his eyes back to the page and continued reading. He was changed inwardly where You could see, and his mind was stripped of worldly concerns, as soon became clear. For as he read, and the waves of his heart surged, he struggled for a while, then saw clearly and chose a better path. Now belonging to You, he said to his friend, "I have now broken free from those hopes of ours and am resolved to serve God. From this hour, in this place, I begin. If you are unwilling to imitate me, do not hinder me." The other replied that he would stay with him to share in such a great reward and such a great service. So both of them, now belonging to You, were building a tower at the necessary cost—forsaking all they had and following You. Then Pontitianus and the man who had walked with him through other parts of the garden came looking for them in the same place. When they found them, they reminded them to return since the day was ending. But these two, explaining their resolution and purpose and how such a decision had arisen and become firm in them, asked the others not to interfere if they refused to join them. The others, though not changed at all from their former selves, still (as he said) grieved for themselves and piously congratulated them, asking them to remember them in their prayers. With their hearts still inclined toward earthly things, they returned to the palace. But the other two, setting their hearts on heavenly things, remained in the cottage. Both of them had fiancées who, when they heard of this, also dedicated their virginity to God.

15. From this his conversation turned to the companies in the monasteries, and their manners so fragrant unto You, and of the fruitful deserts of the wilderness, of which we knew nothing. And there was a monastery at Milan full of good brethren, without the walls of the city, under the fostering care of Ambrose, and we were ignorant of it. He went on with his relation, and we listened intently and in silence. He then related to us how on a certain afternoon, at Triers, when the emperor was taken up with seeing the Circensian games, he and three others, his comrades, went out for a walk in the gardens close to the city walls, and there, as they chanced to walk two and two, one strolled away with him, while the other two went by themselves; and these, in their rambling, came upon a certain cottage inhabited by some of Your servants, poor in spirit, of whom is the kingdom of heaven, where they found a book in which was written the life of Antony. This one of them began to read, marvel at, and be inflamed by it; and in the reading, to meditate on embracing such a life, and giving up his worldly employments to serve You. And these were of the body called Agents for Public Affairs. Then, suddenly being overwhelmed with a holy love and a sober sense of shame, in anger with himself, he cast his eyes upon his friend, exclaiming, Tell me, I entreat you, what end we are striving for by all these labours of ours. What is our aim? What is our motive in doing service? Can our hopes in court rise higher than to be ministers of the emperor? And in such a position, what is there not brittle, and fraught with danger, and by how many dangers arrive we at greater danger? And when arrive we there? But if I desire to become a friend of God, behold, I am even now made it. Thus spoke he, and in the pangs of the travail of the new life, he turned his eyes again upon the page and continued reading, and was inwardly changed where Thou saw, and his mind was divested of the world, as soon became evident; for as he read, and the surging of his heart rolled along, he raged awhile, discerned and resolved on a better course, and now, having become Yours, he said to his friend, Now have I broken loose from those hopes of ours, and am determined to serve God; and this, from this hour, in this place, I enter upon. If you are reluctant to imitate me, hinder me not. The other replied that he would cleave to him, to share in so great a reward and so great a service. Thus both of them, being now Yours, were building a tower at the necessary cost, Luke 14:26-35 — of forsaking all that they had and following You. Then Pontitianus, and he that had walked with him through other parts of the garden, came in search of them to the same place, and having found them, reminded them to return as the day had declined. But they, making known to him their resolution and purpose, and how such a resolve had sprung up and become confirmed in them, entreated them not to molest them, if they refused to join themselves unto them. But the others, no whit changed from their former selves, did yet (as he said) bewail themselves, and piously congratulated them, recommending themselves to their prayers; and with their hearts inclining towards earthly things, returned to the palace. But the other two, setting their affections upon heavenly things, remained in the cottage. And both of them had affianced brides, who, when they heard of this, dedicated also their virginity unto God.

This was Pontitianus's story. But while he was speaking, Lord, you turned me back toward myself, taking me from behind my back where I had put myself to avoid examining myself. You set me face to face with myself so I could see how vile I was—how twisted and filthy, stained and covered with sores. When I saw myself, I was disgusted, and I couldn't find anywhere to escape from myself. If I tried to look away from myself, he kept talking, and you once again set me before myself and pushed me in front of my own eyes, so that I would recognize my sin and hate it. I had known about it, but I acted as if I didn't know—I ignored it and forgot about it.

16. Such was the story of Pontitianus. But You, O Lord, while he was speaking, turned me towards myself, taking me from behind my back, where I had placed myself while unwilling to exercise self-scrutiny; and Thou set me face to face with myself, that I might behold how foul I was, and how crooked and sordid, bespotted and ulcerous. And I beheld and loathed myself; and whither to fly from myself I discovered not. And if I sought to turn my gaze away from myself, he continued his narrative, and You again opposed me unto myself, and thrusted me before my own eyes, that I might discover my iniquity, and hate it. I had known it, but acted as though I knew it not — winked at it, and forgot it.

But now, the more warmly I loved those people whose healthy attitudes I had heard about—that they had given themselves completely to You to be healed—the more I hated myself in comparison to them. For many years (perhaps twelve) had passed since I was nineteen, when reading Cicero's Hortensius stirred in me a desire for wisdom. Yet I kept putting off the rejection of merely worldly happiness and the commitment to search for that which—not just the finding, but even the bare search itself—should have been chosen over the treasures and kingdoms of this world, even if already possessed, and over bodily pleasures, even though available to me at my wish. But I, a wretched young man, utterly wretched even at the very beginning of my youth, had begged You for chastity and said, "Grant me chastity and self-control, but not yet." For I was afraid that You would hear me too soon and too quickly cure me of the disease of lust, which I wanted to have satisfied rather than extinguished. And I had wandered through twisted paths in a sacrilegious superstition, not even convinced of it, but preferring it to the others, which I did not pursue religiously but opposed with hostility.

17. But now, the more ardently I loved those whose healthful affections I heard tell of, that they had given up themselves wholly to You to be cured, the more did I abhor myself when compared with them. For many of my years (perhaps twelve) had passed away since my nineteenth, when, on the reading of Cicero's Hortensius, I was roused to a desire for wisdom; and still I was delaying to reject mere worldly happiness, and to devote myself to search out that whereof not the finding alone, but the bare search, ought to have been preferred before the treasures and kingdoms of this world, though already found, and before the pleasures of the body, though encompassing me at my will. But I, miserable young man, supremely miserable even in the very outset of my youth, had entreated chastity of You, and said, Grant me chastity and continency, but not yet. For I was afraid lest You should hear me soon, and soon deliver me from the disease of concupiscence, which I desired to have satisfied rather than extinguished. And I had wandered through perverse ways in a sacrilegious superstition; not indeed assured thereof, but preferring that to the others, which I did not seek religiously, but opposed maliciously.

I had thought that I kept putting off from day to day my decision to reject worldly hopes and follow You alone because nothing certain appeared to show me which direction to take. But now the day had come when I was laid bare before myself, and my conscience was rebuking me. Where are you now, my tongue? You said, truly, that you were unwilling to cast off the baggage of vanity for an uncertain truth. Look, now it is certain, and yet that burden still weighs you down. Meanwhile, those who have not worn themselves out searching for it as you have, nor spent ten years or more thinking about it, have had their shoulders freed of the burden and received wings to fly away. In this way I was consumed inwardly and deeply confounded with terrible shame while Pontitianus was telling these things. When he had finished his story and the business he came for, he left. And what did I not say to myself? With what whips of rebuke did I not lash my soul to make it follow me, as I struggled to go after You! Yet it drew back. It refused and would not make the effort. All its arguments were exhausted and disproven. What remained was a silent trembling, and it feared, as though it were death itself, being restrained from the flow of that habit by which it was wasting away even to death.

18. And I had thought that I delayed from day to day to reject worldly hopes and follow You only, because there did not appear anything certain whereunto to direct my course. And now had the day arrived in which I was to be laid bare to myself, and my conscience was to chide me. Where are you, O my tongue? You said, verily, that for an uncertain truth you were not willing to cast off the baggage of vanity. Behold, now it is certain, and yet does that burden still oppress you; whereas they who neither have so worn themselves out with searching after it, nor yet have spent ten years and more in thinking thereon, have had their shoulders unburdened, and gotten wings to fly away. Thus was I inwardly consumed and mightily confounded with an horrible shame, while Pontitianus was relating these things. And he, having finished his story, and the business he came for, went his way. And unto myself, what said I not within myself? With what scourges of rebuke lashed I not my soul to make it follow me, struggling to go after You! Yet it drew back; it refused, and exercised not itself. All its arguments were exhausted and confuted. There remained a silent trembling; and it feared, as it would death, to be restrained from the flow of that custom whereby it was wasting away even to death.

In the middle of this great struggle in my inner dwelling, which I had strongly stirred up against my soul in the chamber of my heart, troubled in both mind and appearance, I grabbed Alypius and cried out: What is wrong with us? What is this? What did you hear? The unlearned rise up and take heaven, and we, with our learning but lacking heart, see where we wallow in flesh and blood! Because others have gone before us, are we ashamed to follow, and not rather ashamed at not following? I spoke some words like these, and in my agitation I pulled away from him, while he stared at me in silent amazement. For I was not speaking in my usual tone, and my forehead, cheeks, eyes, color, and voice expressed my feelings more than my words did. There was a small garden attached to our lodging, which we could use along with the whole house, because the owner, our landlord, did not live there. The storm within my chest had driven me there, where no one could interrupt the fierce struggle I was having with myself, until it reached the outcome that You knew, though I did not. But I was going mad so that I might become whole, and dying so that I might have life, knowing what evil thing I was but not knowing what good thing I was about to become. So I went into the garden, with Alypius following me. For his presence did not interfere with my solitude; how could he abandon me when I was so distressed? We sat down as far from the house as we could. I was disturbed in spirit, being extremely impatient with myself that I was not entering into Your will and covenant, O my God, which all my bones cried out to me to enter, praising it to the heavens. And we do not enter it by ships, or chariots, or feet, nor even by walking as far as I had come from the house to where we were sitting. For not only to go, but to enter there, was nothing other than to will to go, but to will it firmly and completely; not to stagger and waver this way and that, a changeable and half-wounded will, wrestling, with one part falling as another rose.

19. In the midst, then, of this great strife of my inner dwelling, which I had strongly raised up against my soul in the chamber of my heart, troubled both in mind and countenance, I seized upon Alypius, and exclaimed: What is wrong with us? What is this? What did you hear? The unlearned start up and 'take' heaven, Matthew 11:12 and we, with our learning, but wanting heart, see where we wallow in flesh and blood! Because others have preceded us, are we ashamed to follow, and not rather ashamed at not following? Some such words I gave utterance to, and in my excitement flung myself from him, while he gazed upon me in silent astonishment. For I spoke not in my wonted tone, and my brow, cheeks, eyes, color, tone of voice, all expressed my emotion more than the words. There was a little garden belonging to our lodging, of which we had the use, as of the whole house; for the master, our landlord, did not live there. Thither had the tempest within my breast hurried me, where no one might impede the fiery struggle in which I was engaged with myself, until it came to the issue that Thou knew, though I did not. But I was mad that I might be whole, and dying that I might have life, knowing what evil thing I was, but not knowing what good thing I was shortly to become. Into the garden, then, I retired, Alypius following my steps. For his presence was no bar to my solitude; or how could he desert me so troubled? We sat down at as great a distance from the house as we could. I was disquieted in spirit, being most impatient with myself that I entered not into Your will and covenant, O my God, which all my bones cried out unto me to enter, extolling it to the skies. And we enter not therein by ships, or chariots, or feet, no, nor by going so far as I had come from the house to that place where we were sitting. For not to go only, but to enter there, was naught else but to will to go, but to will it resolutely and thoroughly; not to stagger and sway about this way and that, a changeable and half-wounded will, wrestling, with one part falling as another rose.

Finally, in the very fever of my inner turmoil, I made many physical movements that people sometimes want to make but cannot—either because they lack the limbs, or because their limbs are bound with chains, weakened by illness, or hindered in some other way. So if I tore my hair, struck my forehead, or if I clasped my knee with interlocked fingers, I did these things because I willed them. But I might have willed them and not done them, if my limbs had not had the power to move in response. I did so many things, then, when having the will did not mean having the power. Yet I did not do that one thing which I desired far more intensely to do, and which I would soon have the power to do simply by willing it—because when I would finally will it, I would will it completely. For in that case, the power and the will would be one and the same: to will would be to do. And yet it was not done. My body more readily obeyed the slightest wish of my soul to move its limbs at the mind's command than my soul obeyed itself to accomplish in the will alone this great act of willing.

20. Finally, in the very fever of my irresolution, I made many of those motions with my body which men sometimes desire to do, but cannot, if either they have not the limbs, or if their limbs be bound with fetters, weakened by disease, or hindered in any other way. Thus, if I tore my hair, struck my forehead, or if, entwining my fingers, I clasped my knee, this I did because I willed it. But I might have willed and not done it, if the power of motion in my limbs had not responded. So many things, then, I did, when to have the will was not to have the power, and I did not that which both with an unequalled desire I longed more to do, and which shortly when I should will I should have the power to do; because shortly when I should will, I should will thoroughly. For in such things the power was one with the will, and to will was to do, and yet was it not done; and more readily did the body obey the slightest wish of the soul in the moving its limbs at the order of the mind, than the soul obeyed itself to accomplish in the will alone this its great will.

Where does this strange condition come from, and why does it exist? Let your mercy shine on me so I may seek an answer—if perhaps the hidden places of human punishment and the deepest troubles of the sons of Adam might provide one. Where does this strange condition come from, and why does it exist? The mind commands the body, and it obeys immediately. The mind commands itself, and it meets resistance. The mind commands the hand to move, and it happens so readily that the command can hardly be distinguished from the obedience. Yet the mind is mind, and the hand is body. The mind commands the mind to will, and yet, though it is itself, it does not obey. Where does this strange condition come from, and why does it exist? I repeat: it commands itself to will, and it would not give this command unless it willed, yet what it commands does not happen. But it does not will entirely; therefore it does not command entirely. For it commands only insofar as it wills, and what is commanded fails to happen only insofar as it does not will. For the will commands that there be a will—not a different one, but itself. But it does not command entirely, so what it commands does not exist. For if it were entire, it would not even need to command itself to be, because it would already be. Therefore, it is not a strange condition to partly will and partly be unwilling, but rather a weakness of the mind—that it does not rise up completely, being upheld by truth yet weighed down by habit. And so there are two wills, because neither of them is entire, and one supplies what the other lacks.

21. Whence is this monstrous thing? And why is it? Let Your mercy shine on me, that I may inquire, if so be the hiding-places of man's punishment, and the darkest contritions of the sons of Adam, may perhaps answer me. Whence is this monstrous thing? And why is it? The mind commands the body, and it obeys immediately; the mind commands itself, and is resisted. The mind commands the hand to be moved, and such readiness is there that the command is scarce to be distinguished from the obedience. Yet the mind is mind, and the hand is body. The mind commands the mind to will, and yet, though it be itself, it obeys not. Whence this monstrous thing? And why is it? I repeat, it commands itself to will, and would not give the command unless it willed; yet is not that done which it commands. But it wills not entirely; therefore it commands not entirely. For so far forth it commands, as it wills; and so far forth is the thing commanded not done, as it wills not. For the will commands that there be a will;– not another, but itself. But it does not command entirely, therefore that is not which it commands. For were it entire, it would not even command it to be, because it would already be. It is, therefore, no monstrous thing partly to will, partly to be unwilling, but an infirmity of the mind, that it does not wholly rise, sustained by truth, pressed down by custom. And so there are two wills, because one of them is not entire; and the one is supplied with what the other needs.

Let them perish from your presence, O God, as empty talkers and deceivers of the soul perish—those who observe that there are two wills at work during deliberation and then claim that there are two kinds of minds in us, one good and the other evil. They themselves are truly evil when they hold these evil opinions, and they will become good when they hold the truth and consent to the truth, so that your apostle may say to them, "You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord." But because they desire to be light not in the Lord but in themselves, imagining the physis of the soul to be the same as what God is, they become even denser darkness. Through shocking arrogance they moved farther away from you, the true Light, which enlightens every person who comes into the world. Pay attention to what you say and be ashamed; draw near to him and be enlightened, and your faces will not be ashamed. When I was deliberating about serving the Lord my God now, as I had long intended to do, it was I who willed and I who was unwilling. It was I, I myself. I neither willed entirely nor was entirely unwilling. Therefore I was at war with myself and destroyed by myself. And this destruction came upon me against my will, yet it did not show the presence of another mind, but rather the punishment of my own. Now then, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me—the punishment of a more widespread sin, in that I was a son of Adam.

22. Let them perish from Your presence, O God, as vain talkers and deceivers Titus 1:10 of the soul do perish, who, observing that there were two wills in deliberating, affirm that there are two kinds of minds in us — one good, the other evil. They themselves verily are evil when they hold these evil opinions; and they shall become good when they hold the truth, and shall consent unto the truth, that Your apostle may say unto them, You were sometimes darkness, but now are you light in the Lord. Ephesians 5:8 But, they, desiring to be light, not in the Lord, but in themselves, conceiving the nature of the soul to be the same as that which God is, are made more gross darkness; for that through a shocking arrogancy they went farther from You, the true Light, which lights every man that comes into the world. John 1:9 Take heed what you say, and blush for shame; draw near unto Him and be lightened, and your faces shall not be ashamed. I, when I was deliberating upon serving the Lord my God now, as I had long purposed — I it was who willed, I who was unwilling. It was I, even I myself. I neither willed entirely, nor was entirely unwilling. Therefore was I at war with myself, and destroyed by myself. And this destruction overtook me against my will, and yet showed not the presence of another mind, but the punishment of my own. Now, then, it is no more I that do it, but sin that dwells in me, Romans 7:17 — the punishment of a more unconfined sin, in that I was a son of Adam.

If there are as many opposing natures as there are conflicting wills, then there would not be just two natures, but many. If someone is trying to decide whether to go to their meeting or to the theater, these people immediately declare: "Look, here are two natures—one good, pulling this way, and another bad, pulling back that way. Where else could this hesitation between conflicting wills come from?" But I say that both are bad—the one drawing toward them and the one drawing back toward the theater. However, they refuse to believe that the will drawing toward them is anything other than good. Suppose, then, that one of us were deliberating and, through the conflict of his two wills, were wavering about whether to go to the theater or to our church. Wouldn't these people also waver about what to answer? For either they must admit—which they are unwilling to do—that the will leading to our church is good, just like the will of those who have received and are committed to their mysteries, or they must claim that there are two evil natures and two evil minds in one person, at war with each other. But then what they say would not be true—that there is one good nature and another bad one. Or they must turn to the truth and stop denying that when someone deliberates, there is one soul wavering between conflicting wills.

23. For if there be as many contrary natures as there are conflicting wills, there will not now be two natures only, but many. If any one deliberate whether he should go to their conventicle, or to the theatre, those men at once cry out, Behold, here are two natures — one good, drawing this way, another bad, drawing back that way; for whence else is this indecision between conflicting wills? But I reply that both are bad — that which draws to them, and that which draws back to the theatre. But they believe not that will to be other than good which draws to them. Supposing, then, one of us should deliberate, and through the conflict of his two wills should waver whether he should go to the theatre or to our church, would not these also waver what to answer? For either they must confess, which they are not willing to do, that the will which leads to our church is good, as well as that of those who have received and are held by the mysteries of theirs, or they must imagine that there are two evil natures and two evil minds in one man, at war one with the other; and that will not be true which they say, that there is one good and another bad; or they must be converted to the truth, and no longer deny that where any one deliberates, there is one soul fluctuating between conflicting wills.

Let them stop saying, then, when they see two wills fighting against each other in the same man, that the struggle is between two opposing minds, made of two opposing substances, from two opposing principles, one good and the other bad. For You, O true God, disprove, check, and convince them. Consider when both wills are bad: one person is trying to decide whether he should kill a man by poison or by the sword; whether he should seize this estate or that estate belonging to someone else, when he cannot take both; whether he should buy pleasure by spending extravagantly or keep his money by being greedy; whether he should go to the circus or the theatre, if both are open on the same day; or, third, whether he should rob another man's house, if he has the chance; or, fourth, whether he should commit adultery, if he has the opportunity at the same time—all these things happening at the same moment, and all being equally desired, although it is impossible to do them all at once. For they tear the mind apart among four, or even more (given the vast variety of things people desire) conflicting wills, yet they do not claim that there are so many different substances. The same is true for wills that are good. For I ask them: is it a good thing to find delight in reading the apostle, or good to find delight in a reverent psalm, or good to discuss the gospel? To each of these they will answer, It is good. What, then, if all delight us equally, and all at the same time? Do not different wills distract the mind when a man is trying to decide which he should choose? Yet they are all good, and they compete with each other until one is chosen, toward which the whole united will may be directed, which before was divided into many. Likewise, when eternity above delights us, and the pleasure of temporal good holds us down below, it is the same soul that does not will either this or that with an entire will, and is therefore torn apart with painful struggles, because out of truth it prefers that, but out of habit it does not let go of this.

24. Let them no more say, then, when they perceive two wills to be antagonistic to each other in the same man, that the contest is between two opposing minds, of two opposing substances, from two opposing principles, the one good and the other bad. For Thou, O true God, disprove, check, and convince them; like as when both wills are bad, one deliberates whether he should kill a man by poison, or by the sword; whether he should take possession of this or that estate of another's, when he cannot both; whether he should purchase pleasure by prodigality, or retain his money by covetousness; whether he should go to the circus or the theatre, if both are open on the same day; or, thirdly, whether he should rob another man's house, if he have the opportunity; or, fourthly, whether he should commit adultery, if at the same time he have the means of doing so — all these things concurring in the same point of time, and all being equally longed for, although impossible to be enacted at one time. For they rend the mind amid four, or even (among the vast variety of things men desire) more antagonistic wills, nor do they yet affirm that there are so many different substances. Thus also is it in wills which are good. For I ask them, is it a good thing to have delight in reading the apostle, or good to have delight in a sober psalm, or good to discourse on the gospel? To each of these they will answer, It is good. What, then, if all equally delight us, and all at the same time? Do not different wills distract the mind, when a man is deliberating which he should rather choose? Yet are they all good, and are at variance until one be fixed upon, whither the whole united will may be borne, which before was divided into many. Thus, also, when above eternity delights us, and the pleasure of temporal good holds us down below, it is the same soul which wills not that or this with an entire will, and is therefore torn asunder with grievous perplexities, while out of truth it prefers that, but out of custom forbears not this.

I was sick and tormented, accusing myself much more severely than usual, tossing and turning in my chains until they were almost completely broken. I was now held only slightly, but I was still held. And You, O Lord, pressed upon my inward parts with a severe mercy, doubling the lashes of fear and shame, so that I would not give way again and allow that same slender remaining tie to regain its strength and bind me even more tightly if it were not broken off. For I said to myself, "Look, let it be done now, let it be done now." And as I spoke, I nearly came to a decision. I almost did it, yet I did not do it. Yet I did not fall back to my old condition, but held my position close by and caught my breath. And I tried again, and was very close to reaching it, and somewhat closer still, and then almost touched and grasped it; and yet I did not reach it, nor touch it, nor grasp it, hesitating to die to death and to live to life. And the worse condition, to which I had been accustomed, prevailed more strongly with me than the better condition, which I had not tried. And the very moment in which I was to become another man, the closer it came to me, the greater the horror it struck into me; but it did not strike me back or turn me aside, but kept me in suspense.

25. Thus was I sick and tormented, accusing myself far more severely than was my wont, tossing and turning me in my chain till that was utterly broken, whereby I now was but slightly, but still was held. And You, O Lord, pressed upon me in my inward parts by a severe mercy, redoubling the lashes of fear and shame, lest I should again give way, and that same slender remaining tie not being broken off, it should recover strength, and enchain me the faster. For I said mentally, Lo, let it be done now, let it be done now. And as I spoke, I all but came to a resolve. I all but did it, yet I did it not. Yet fell I not back to my old condition, but took up my position hard by, and drew breath. And I tried again, and wanted but very little of reaching it, and somewhat less, and then all but touched and grasped it; and yet came not at it, nor touched, nor grasped it, hesitating to die unto death, and to live unto life; and the worse, whereto I had been habituated, prevailed more with me than the better, which I had not tried. And the very moment in which I was to become another man, the nearer it approached me, the greater horror did it strike into me; but it did not strike me back, nor turn me aside, but kept me in suspense.

My old mistresses – those empty toys and shallow vanities – still held me captive. They tugged at my bodily nature and whispered gently, "Are you really leaving us? Will we never be with you again after this moment? Will this or that never be allowed to you again after this moment?" What did they mean by "this or that"? What were they actually suggesting, O my God? May Your mercy turn such things away from the soul of Your servant. What filthy things they suggested! What shameful things! Now I heard them less than half as clearly as before. They no longer showed themselves openly or contradicted me directly, but instead muttered behind my back and secretly tugged at me as I was leaving, trying to make me look back at them. Still, they did slow me down, making me hesitate to break free and shake them off completely, to leap forward to where I was being called – while ingrained habit kept saying to me, "Do you think you can live without them?"

26. The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my old mistresses, still enthralled me; they shook my fleshly garment, and whispered softly, Do you part with us? And from that moment shall we no more be with you for ever? And from that moment shall not this or that be lawful for you for ever? And what did they suggest to me in the words this or that? What is it that they suggested, O my God? Let Your mercy avert it from the soul of Your servant. What impurities did they suggest! What shame! And now I far less than half heard them, not openly showing themselves and contradicting me, but muttering, as it were, behind my back, and furtively plucking me as I was departing, to make me look back upon them. Yet they did delay me, so that I hesitated to burst and shake myself free from them, and to leap over whither I was called — an unruly habit saying to me, Do you think you can live without them?

But now those voices spoke very weakly, for on the side toward which I had turned my face, and where I was trembling to go, the chaste dignity of Continence appeared to me, cheerful but not wildly playful, honestly inviting me to come without doubt, and stretching out her holy hands, full of many good examples, to receive and embrace me. There were so many young men and women, a crowd of youth and every age, serious widows and elderly virgins, and Continence herself in all of them, not barren, but a fruitful mother of children of joys, by You, O Lord, her Husband. And she smiled at me with an encouraging challenge, as if to say, Can you not do what these young men and women can? Or can any of them do it by themselves, and not rather in the Lord their God? The Lord their God gave me to them. Why do you stand in your own strength, and so cannot stand? Cast yourself upon Him; do not be afraid, He will not pull away so that you fall; throw yourself upon Him without fear, He will receive you and heal you. And I blushed terribly, for I still heard the muttering of those toys, and hung uncertain. And she again seemed to say, Stop up your ears against those unclean members of yours upon the earth, that they may be mortified. They tell you of delights, but not as does the law of the Lord your God. This struggle in my heart was nothing but self against self. But Alypius, sitting close by my side, waited in silence for the outcome of my unusual emotion.

27. But now it said this very faintly; for on that side towards which I had set my face, and whither I trembled to go, did the chaste dignity of Continence appear unto me, cheerful, but not dissolutely gay, honestly alluring me to come and doubt nothing, and extending her holy hands, full of a multiplicity of good examples, to receive and embrace me. There were there so many young men and maidens, a multitude of youth and every age, grave widows and ancient virgins, and Continence herself in all, not barren, but a fruitful mother of children of joys, by You, O Lord, her Husband. And she smiled on me with an encouraging mockery, as if to say, Can you not do what these youths and maidens can? Or can one or other do it of themselves, and not rather in the Lord their God? The Lord their God gave me unto them. Why do you stand in your own strength, and so standest not? Cast yourself upon Him; fear not, He will not withdraw that you should fall; cast yourself upon Him without fear, He will receive you, and heal you. And I blushed beyond measure, for I still heard the muttering of those toys, and hung in suspense. And she again seemed to say, Shut up your ears against those unclean members of yours upon the earth, that they may be mortified. Colossians 3:5 They tell you of delights, but not as does the law of the Lord your God. This controversy in my heart was naught but self against self. But Alypius, sitting close by my side, awaited in silence the result of my unwonted emotion.

But when deep reflection had drawn together and piled up all my misery from the secret depths of my soul before the sight of my heart, a mighty storm arose, accompanied by an equally mighty shower of tears. So that I might pour this forth fully with its natural expressions, I withdrew from Alypius, for it seemed to me that solitude was better suited for the work of weeping. So I moved far enough away that even his presence would not burden me. This was my state at that time, and he noticed it, for I believe I had said something in which the sound of my voice seemed choked with weeping, and in that condition I had stood up. He then remained where we had been sitting, utterly astonished. I threw myself down—I don't know how—under a certain fig tree, giving free rein to my tears, and the streams of my eyes gushed out, an acceptable sacrifice to You. And not in these exact words, but to this effect, I spoke much to You: But You, O Lord, how long? How long, Lord? Will You be angry forever? Oh, do not remember our former iniquities against us, for I felt that I was held captive by them. I sent up these sorrowful cries: How long, how long? Tomorrow, and tomorrow? Why not now? Why is there not an end to my uncleanness this very hour?

28. But when a profound reflection had, from the secret depths of my soul, drawn together and heaped up all my misery before the sight of my heart, there arose a mighty storm, accompanied by as mighty a shower of tears. Which, that I might pour forth fully, with its natural expressions, I stole away from Alypius; for it suggested itself to me that solitude was fitter for the business of weeping. So I retired to such a distance that even his presence could not be oppressive to me. Thus was it with me at that time, and he perceived it; for something, I believe, I had spoken, wherein the sound of my voice appeared choked with weeping, and in that state had I risen up. He then remained where we had been sitting, most completely astonished. I flung myself down, how, I know not, under a certain fig-tree, giving free course to my tears, and the streams of my eyes gushed out, an acceptable sacrifice unto You. 1 Peter 2:5 And, not indeed in these words, yet to this effect, spoke I much unto You — But You, O Lord, how long? How long, Lord? Will You be angry for ever? Oh, remember not against us former iniquities; for I felt that I was enthralled by them. I sent up these sorrowful cries — How long, how long? Tomorrow, and tomorrow? Why not now? Why is there not this hour an end to my uncleanness?

I was saying these things and weeping with the most bitter anguish of heart, when suddenly I heard a voice like that of a boy or girl—I don't know which—coming from a nearby house, chanting and repeating over and over: "Take up and read; take up and read." At once my expression changed, and I began to think carefully about whether children typically sang such words in any kind of game. I could not remember ever having heard anything like it. So I stopped my flood of tears and stood up, interpreting it as nothing other than a command from heaven to open the book and read the first passage I came upon. For I had heard about Antony, who happened to come in while the gospel was being read and received what was read as a personal warning addressed to him: "Go and sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come and follow me." And he was immediately converted to you by this divine message. I quickly returned to the place where Alypius was sitting, for that is where I had laid down the volume of the apostles when I got up. I seized it, opened it, and silently read the section on which my eyes first fell: "Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying; but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfill the lusts thereof." I read no further, nor did I need to, for instantly, as the sentence ended, it was as if a light of assurance was poured into my heart, and all the darkness of doubt vanished away.

29. I was saying these things and weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart, when, lo, I heard the voice as of a boy or girl, I know not which, coming from a neighbouring house, chanting, and oft repeating, Take up and read; take up and read. Immediately my countenance was changed, and I began most earnestly to consider whether it was usual for children in any kind of game to sing such words; nor could I remember ever to have heard the like. So, restraining the torrent of my tears, I rose up, interpreting it no other way than as a command to me from Heaven to open the book, and to read the first chapter I should light upon. For I had heard of Antony, that, accidentally coming in while the gospel was being read, he received the admonition as if what was read were addressed to him, Go and sell that you have, and give to the poor, and you shall have treasure in heaven; and come and follow me. Matthew 19:2l And by such oracle was he immediately converted unto You. So quickly I returned to the place where Alypius was sitting; for there had I put down the volume of the apostles, when I rose thence. I grasped, opened, and in silence read that paragraph on which my eyes first fell — Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying; but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof. Romans 13:13-14 No further would I read, nor did I need; for instantly, as the sentence ended — by a light, as it were, of security infused into my heart — all the gloom of doubt vanished away.

I closed the book and marked my place with my finger or some other marker, then told Alypius what had happened with a calm expression. He then revealed to me what was happening in him, which I hadn't known about. He asked to see what I had read. I showed him, and he looked further than where I had read, and I didn't know what came next. It was this: "Receive the one who is weak in the faith" (Romans 14:1), which he applied to himself and shared with me. This warning strengthened him, and through a good resolve and intention that was very much in keeping with his character (in which he had always been far better than me), he joined me without any anxious hesitation. From there we went to my mother. We told her the news—she rejoiced. We explained how it happened—she leaped for joy and celebrated, and blessed You, who are able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think (Ephesians 3:20). She realized that You had given her more for me than she used to ask for through her mournful and deeply sorrowful prayers. For You converted me to Yourself so completely that I no longer sought a wife or any other worldly hopes, standing firm in that rule of faith which You had shown her in a vision so many years before. And You turned her sorrow into a joy far more abundant than she had desired, and far dearer and purer than she used to seek by having grandchildren from my body.

30. Closing the book, then, and putting either my finger between, or some other mark, I now with a tranquil countenance made it known to Alypius. And he thus disclosed to me what was wrought in him, which I knew not. He asked to look at what I had read. I showed him; and he looked even further than I had read, and I knew not what followed. This it was, verily, Him that is weak in the faith, receive; Romans 14:1 which he applied to himself, and discovered to me. By this admonition was he strengthened; and by a good resolution and purpose, very much in accord with his character (wherein, for the better, he was always far different from me), without any restless delay he joined me. Thence we go in to my mother. We make it known to her — she rejoices. We relate how it came to pass — she leaps for joy, and triumphs, and blesses You, who art able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think; Ephesians 3:20 for she perceived You to have given her more for me than she used to ask by her pitiful and most doleful groanings. For Thou so converted me unto Yourself, that I sought neither a wife, nor any other of this world's hopes, — standing in that rule of faith in which Thou, so many years before, had showed me unto her in a vision. And you turned her grief into a gladness, much more plentiful than she had desired, and much dearer and chaster than she used to crave, by having grandchildren of my body.

My wicked and shameful youth was now dead, and I was entering early adulthood. As I grew older, I became more corrupt in my vanity, unable to conceive of any substance except what I could see with my own eyes. I did not think of you, O God, in the form of a human body. From the time I first began to learn about wisdom, I had always avoided that idea, and I was glad to find the same teaching in the faith of our spiritual mother, your Catholic Church. But I did not know what else to imagine you as. I, a mere man, and such a flawed man at that, tried to conceive of you, the supreme and only true God. In my deepest heart I believed that you were incorruptible, inviolable, and unchangeable, because even though I did not know where this certainty came from or how, I could see most clearly and was completely sure that what can be corrupted must be inferior to what cannot be corrupted, and I unhesitatingly preferred what cannot be violated over what can be violated, and I judged what undergoes no change to be better than what is changeable. My heart cried out violently against all my mental images, and with this single effort I tried to drive away from my mind's eye all that filthy crowd of fantasies swarming around it. But look—having barely been pushed away, they rushed back in multitudes in the blink of an eye, struck against my face, and clouded it. So even though I did not think of you in the form of a human body, I was still forced to imagine you as something corporeal existing in space, either poured throughout the world or infinitely spread out beyond it—yet still that incorruptible, inviolable, and unchangeable being, which I preferred to the corruptible, violable, and changeable. Whatever I conceived that was deprived of this spatial dimension seemed like nothing to me, absolutely nothing, not even a void, as if a body were removed from its place and the place remained empty of any body at all, whether earthly, terrestrial, watery, aerial, or celestial, but remained a void place—a spacious nothingness, as it were.

1. Dead now was that evil and abominable youth of mine, and I was passing into early manhood: as I increased in years, the fouler became I in vanity, who could not conceive of any substance but such as I saw with my own eyes. I thought not of You, O God, under the form of a human body. Since the time I began to hear something of wisdom, I always avoided this; and I rejoiced to have found the same in the faith of our spiritual mother, Your Catholic Church. But what else to imagine You I knew not. And I, a man, and such a man, sought to conceive of You, the sovereign and only true God; and I did in my inmost heart believe that You were incorruptible, and inviolable, and unchangeable; because, not knowing whence or how, yet most plainly did I see and feel sure that that which may be corrupted must be worse than that which cannot, and what cannot be violated did I without hesitation prefer before that which can, and deemed that which suffers no change to be better than that which is changeable. Violently did my heart cry out against all my phantasms, and with this one blow I endeavoured to beat away from the eye of my mind all that unclean crowd which fluttered around it. And lo, being scarce put off, they, in the twinkling of an eye, pressed in multitudes around me, dashed against my face, and beclouded it; so that, though I thought not of You under the form of a human body, yet was I constrained to image You to be something corporeal in space, either infused into the world, or infinitely diffused beyond it — even that incorruptible, inviolable, and unchangeable, which I preferred to the corruptible, and violable, and changeable; since whatsoever I conceived, deprived of this space, appeared as nothing to me, yea, altogether nothing, not even a void, as if a body were removed from its place and the place should remain empty of any body at all, whether earthy, terrestrial, watery, aerial, or celestial, but should remain a void place — a spacious nothing, as it were.

I was thick-headed and couldn't even see myself clearly. Whatever did not extend through space, was not spread out, compressed, bulging, or capable of receiving such dimensions, I thought was absolutely nothing. My mind moved only over the kinds of shapes my eyes were used to seeing. I didn't realize that the very mental activity by which I formed these images was not itself a spatial thing, yet it had to be something real in order to form them. In the same way I thought of You, Life of my life, as something vast stretching through infinite spaces, penetrating in every direction through the whole mass of the world and beyond it, extending in all directions through immeasurable and boundless spaces. I imagined that the earth had You, heaven had You, all things had You, and they were limited within You, but You had no limits. Just as the body of the air above the earth does not block the sun's light but lets it pass through—penetrating it not by breaking or cutting but by filling it completely—so I imagined that the body not only of heaven, air, and sea, but also of earth, was permeable to You. I thought You penetrated all its largest and smallest parts, receiving Your presence through a hidden breathing in, governing inwardly and outwardly all things You have created. This was my guess, because I couldn't think of anything else, but it was false. According to this theory, a larger part of the earth would contain a larger portion of You, and a smaller part would contain less. All things would be full of You in such a way that an elephant's body would contain more of You than a sparrow's body, simply because it is larger and takes up more space. In this way You would distribute portions of Yourself to the different portions of the world in pieces—large portions to large things, small portions to small things. But You are not like that at all. You had not yet enlightened my darkness.

2. I therefore being thus gross-hearted, nor clear even to myself, whatsoever was not stretched over certain spaces, nor diffused, nor crowded together, nor swelled out, or which did not or could not receive some of these dimensions, I judged to be altogether nothing. For over such forms as my eyes are wont to range did my heart then range; nor did I see that this same observation, by which I formed those same images, was not of this kind, and yet it could not have formed them had not itself been something great. In like manner did I conceive of You, Life of my life, as vast through infinite spaces, on every side penetrating the whole mass of the world, and beyond it, all ways, through immeasurable and boundless spaces; so that the earth should have You, the heaven have You, all things have You, and they bounded in You, but Thou nowhere. For as the body of this air which is above the earth prevents not the light of the sun from passing through it, penetrating it, not by bursting or by cutting, but by filling it entirely, so I imagined the body, not of heaven, air, and sea only, but of the earth also, to be pervious to You, and in all its greatest parts as well as smallest penetrable to receive Your presence, by a secret inspiration, both inwardly and outwardly governing all things which You have created. So I conjectured, because I was unable to think of anything else; for it was untrue. For in this way would a greater part of the earth contain a greater portion of You, and the less a lesser; and all things should so be full of You, as that the body of an elephant should contain more of You than that of a sparrow by how much larger it is, and occupies more room; and so should Thou make the portions of Yourself present unto the several portions of the world, in pieces, great to the great, little to the little. But You are not such a one; nor had Thou as yet enlightened my darkness.

It was enough for me, Lord, to oppose those deceived deceivers and empty talkers (empty because your word did not sound from them) with an argument that Nebridius put forward long ago when we were in Carthage, which disturbed all of us who heard it: What could that supposed nation of darkness, which the Manichæans habitually set up as a mass opposed to you, have done to you if you had refused to fight it? If the answer were "It would have harmed you," then you would be subject to violence and corruption. But if the answer were "It could do you no harm," then there was no reason for you to fight it—and to fight in such a way that a certain portion and member of you, or offspring of your very substance, would be mixed with hostile powers and natures not created by you, and be corrupted and degraded by them to such a degree that it would be turned from happiness to misery and need help to be delivered and purified. And they claim this offspring of your substance was the soul, which, being enslaved, contaminated, and corrupted, your word—free, pure, and whole—might rescue; yet the word itself would also be corruptible, because it came from one and the same substance. Therefore, if they affirm that you, whatever you are, that is, your substance by which you exist, are incorruptible, then all these claims are false and detestable. But if you are corruptible, then that claim is false and should be rejected immediately with horror. This argument, then, was sufficient against those who fully deserved to be expelled like vomit from an overfull stomach, since they had no way to escape without committing horrible sacrilege, both in heart and in speech, by thinking and saying such things about you.

3. It was sufficient for me, O Lord, to oppose to those deceived deceivers and dumb praters (dumb, since Your word sounded not forth from them) that which a long while ago, while we were at Carthage, Nebridius used to propound, at which all we who heard it were disturbed: What could that reputed nation of darkness, which the Manichæans are in the habit of setting up as a mass opposed to You, have done unto You had Thou objected to fight with it? For had it been answered, 'It would have done You some injury,' then should Thou be subject to violence and corruption; but if the reply were: 'It could do You no injury,' then was no cause assigned for Your fighting with it; and so fighting as that a certain portion and member of You, or offspring of Your very substance, should be blended with adverse powers and natures not of Your creation, and be by them corrupted and deteriorated to such an extent as to be turned from happiness into misery, and need help whereby it might be delivered and purged; and that this offspring of Your substance was the soul, to which, being enslaved, contaminated, and corrupted, Your word, free, pure, and entire, might bring succour; but yet also the word itself being corruptible, because it was from one and the same substance. So that should they affirm You, whatsoever You are, that is, Your substance whereby You are, to be incorruptible, then were all these assertions false and execrable; but if corruptible, then that were false, and at the first utterance to be abhorred. This argument, then, was enough against those who wholly merited to be vomited forth from the surfeited stomach, since they had no means of escape without horrible sacrilege, both of heart and tongue, thinking and speaking such things of You.

But I too, even though I affirmed and was firmly convinced that you, our Lord, the true God, who made not only our souls but our bodies—and not only our souls and bodies but all beings and all things—were uncontaminable and inconvertible and in no way mutable, still did not understand readily and clearly what the cause of evil was. Yet whatever it might be, I recognized that it must be investigated in such a way that would not force me to believe the immutable God was mutable, lest I myself should become the very thing I was trying to understand. Therefore I searched for it without anxiety, certain of the falsehood of what those people claimed, whom I avoided with my whole heart. For I saw that in seeking the origin of evil, they were filled with malice, because they preferred to think that your physis (nature) suffered evil rather than that their own committed it.

4. But I also, as yet, although I said and was firmly persuaded, that Thou our Lord, the true God, who made not only our souls but our bodies, and not our souls and bodies alone, but all creatures and all things, were uncontaminable and inconvertible, and in no part mutable: yet understood I not readily and clearly what was the cause of evil. And yet, whatever it was, I perceived that it must be so sought out as not to constrain me by it to believe that the immutable God was mutable, lest I myself should become the thing that I was seeking out. I sought, therefore, for it free from care, certain of the untruthfulness of what these asserted, whom I shunned with my whole heart; for I perceived that through seeking after the origin of evil, they were filled with malice, in that they liked better to think that Your Substance did suffer evil than that their own did commit it.

I turned my attention to understand what I was now hearing—that free will was the cause of our doing evil, and Your righteous judgment was the cause of our suffering for it. But I could not clearly grasp this. So when I tried to lift my mind's eye out of that pit, I was plunged back into it again. I tried many times, and each time I was plunged back. But this one thing lifted me toward Your light: I knew just as surely that I had a will as that I had life. Therefore, when I was willing or unwilling to do something, I was absolutely certain that it was I myself—and no one else—who was willing or unwilling. I immediately recognized that this was where the cause of my sin lay. But what I did against my will, I saw that I suffered rather than did, and I judged this to be not my fault but my punishment. Because I believed You to be completely just, I quickly admitted that I was not unjustly punished. But then I said again: Who made me? Was it not my God, who is not only good but goodness itself? Where then did I get the desire to do evil and the unwillingness to do good, so that there would be just cause for my punishment? Who put this in me and planted in me this root of bitterness, since I was entirely made by my most sweet God? If the devil was responsible, where did that devil come from? And if he too became a devil from being a good angel through his own perverse will, where did the evil will in him come from that made him a devil, since the angel was made entirely good by that most Good Creator? These thoughts cast me down and choked me again, though they did not plunge me into that hell of error where no one confesses to You—the error of thinking that You permit evil rather than that man does it.

5. And I directed my attention to discern what I now heard, that free will was the cause of our doing evil, and Your righteous judgment of our suffering it. But I was unable clearly to discern it. So, then, trying to draw the eye of my mind from that pit, I was plunged again therein, and trying often, was as often plunged back again. But this raised me towards Your light, that I knew as well that I had a will as that I had life: when, therefore, I was willing or unwilling to do anything, I was most certain that it was none but myself that was willing and unwilling; and immediately I perceived that there was the cause of my sin. But what I did against my will I saw that I suffered rather than did, and that judged I not to be my fault, but my punishment; whereby, believing You to be most just, I quickly confessed myself to be not unjustly punished. But again I said: Who made me? Was it not my God, who is not only good, but goodness itself? Whence came I then to will to do evil, and to be unwilling to do good, that there might be cause for my just punishment? Who was it that put this in me, and implanted in me the root of bitterness, seeing I was altogether made by my most sweet God? If the devil were the author, whence is that devil? And if he also, by his own perverse will, of a good angel became a devil, whence also was the evil will in him whereby he became a devil, seeing that the angel was made altogether good by that most Good Creator? By these reflections was I again cast down and stifled; yet not plunged into that hell of error (where no man confesses unto You), to think that You allow evil, rather than that man does it.

I was struggling to understand the rest of this issue, having already discovered that whatever is incorruptible must be better than the corruptible. Therefore, whatever You were, I acknowledged You to be incorruptible. For no soul has ever been able, nor ever will be able, to conceive of anything better than You, who are the highest and best good. Since it is absolutely and certainly true that the incorruptible must be preferred to the corruptible—as I myself was now preferring it—then if You were not incorruptible, I could have imagined in my thoughts something better than my God. Since I recognized that the incorruptible must be preferred to the corruptible, I ought to seek You there, and there discover where evil itself comes from—that is, where the corruption comes from that can in no way defile Your substance. For corruption truly cannot harm our God in any way—not by any will, not by any necessity, not by any unforeseen chance—because He is God, and what He wills is good, and He Himself is that good. But to be corrupted is not good. Nor are You forced to do anything against Your will, since Your will is not greater than Your power. But Your will would have to be greater than Your power if You were greater than Yourself. For the will and power of God is God Himself. And what can be unforeseen by You, who know all things? There is no kind of nature that You do not know. And why should we say anything more about why the substance that is God should not be corruptible, seeing that if it were corruptible, it could not be God?

6. For I was so struggling to find out the rest, as having already found that what was incorruptible must be better than the corruptible; and You, therefore, whatsoever You were, did I acknowledge to be incorruptible. For never yet was, nor will be, a soul able to conceive of anything better than You, who art the highest and best good. But whereas most truly and certainly that which is incorruptible is to be preferred to the corruptible (like as I myself did now prefer it), then, if Thou were not incorruptible, I could in my thoughts have reached unto something better than my God. Where, then, I saw that the incorruptible was to be preferred to the corruptible, there ought I to seek You, and there observe whence evil itself was, that is, whence comes the corruption by which Your substance can by no means be profaned. For corruption, truly, in no way injures our God — by no will, by no necessity, by no unforeseen chance — because He is God, and what He wills is good, and Himself is that good; but to be corrupted is not good. Nor are You compelled to do anything against Your will in that Your will is not greater than Your power. But greater should it be were You Yourself greater than Yourself; for the will and power of God is God Himself. And what can be unforeseen by You, who know all things? Nor is there any sort of nature but You know it. And what more should we say why that substance which God is should not be corruptible, seeing that if it were so it could not be God?

I searched for the source of evil, but I searched in a flawed way. I didn't see the evil in my very method of searching. I arranged before my mind's eye the entire creation and everything we can perceive in it — such as earth, sea, air, stars, trees, and living creatures. I also included what we cannot see, like the vault of heaven, all the angels, and all the spiritual beings in it. But my imagination arranged even these spiritual beings as if they were bodies in specific locations, and I made one enormous mass out of all your creatures, sorted according to the kinds of bodies — some being actual bodies, some being what I had imagined spirits to be. I pictured this mass as huge — not as it truly was, which I couldn't know, but as large as seemed reasonable to me, though finite in every direction. But I imagined you, O Lord, surrounding and penetrating it on every side, though infinite in every way. It was as if there were an ocean everywhere, extending infinitely in all directions, and it contained within itself some sponge, huge but finite, so that the sponge would be completely filled in all its parts by the immeasurable ocean. This is how I conceived your creation to be finite itself, yet filled by you, the infinite. And I said, "Here is God, and here is what God has created. God is good — indeed, most powerfully and incomparably better than all these things. Yet he, who is good, has created them good, and see how he surrounds and fills them. Where, then, is evil? Where did it come from, and how did it creep in here? What is its root, and what is its seed? Or does it have no real existence at all? Why, then, do we fear and avoid what has no existence? Or if we fear it needlessly, then surely that fear itself is evil, by which the heart is unnecessarily stabbed and tormented — and all the more evil, since we have nothing to fear, yet we fear anyway. Therefore either what we fear is evil, or the act of fearing is itself evil. Where, then, does it come from, given that God, who is good, has made all these things good? He, the greatest and supreme Good, has created these lesser goods. But both Creator and created are all good. Where is evil? Or was there some evil matter from which he made, formed, and ordered things, but left something in it that he did not convert into good? But why would this be? Was he unable to transform the whole mass so that no evil remained in it, given that he is omnipotent? Finally, why would he make anything at all from it, rather than use that same omnipotence to cause it not to exist at all? Or could it actually exist against his will? Or if it existed from eternity, why did he allow it to exist for infinite stretches of past time, and only much later decide to make something from it? Or if he suddenly wanted to do something, shouldn't the Omnipotent rather have accomplished this: that the evil matter should not exist at all, and that he alone should be the whole, true, chief, and infinite Good? Or if it was not good that he, who was good, should fail to be the maker and creator of good things, then shouldn't he have removed and destroyed that evil matter and formed good matter instead, from which he could create all things? For he would not be omnipotent if he were unable to create something good without the help of matter he himself had not created. I turned over such thoughts in my miserable heart, overwhelmed with the most gnawing anxieties, fearing I would die before discovering the truth. Yet the faith of your Christ, our Lord and Savior, as held in the Catholic Church, remained firmly fixed in my heart. It was still unformed on many points and diverged from doctrinal rules, but my mind did not completely abandon it. Rather, day by day it drank in more and more of it.

7. And I sought whence is evil? And sought in an evil way; nor saw I the evil in my very search. And I set in order before the view of my spirit the whole creation, and whatever we can discern in it, such as earth, sea, air, stars, trees, living creatures; yea, and whatever in it we do not see, as the firmament of heaven, all the angels, too, and all the spiritual inhabitants thereof. But these very beings, as though they were bodies, did my fancy dispose in such and such places, and I made one huge mass of all Your creatures, distinguished according to the kinds of bodies — some of them being real bodies, some what I myself had feigned for spirits. And this mass I made huge — not as it was, which I could not know, but as large as I thought well, yet every way finite. But You, O Lord, I imagined on every part environing and penetrating it, though every way infinite; as if there were a sea everywhere, and on every side through immensity nothing but an infinite sea; and it contained within itself some sponge, huge, though finite, so that the sponge would in all its parts be filled from the immeasurable sea. So conceived I Your Creation to be itself finite, and filled by You, the Infinite. And I said, Behold God, and behold what God has created; and God is good, yea, most mightily and incomparably better than all these; but yet He, who is good, has created them good, and behold how He encircles and fills them. Where, then, is evil, and whence, and how crept it in hither? What is its root, and what its seed? Or has it no being at all? Why, then, do we fear and shun that which has no being? Or if we fear it needlessly, then surely is that fear evil whereby the heart is unnecessarily pricked and tormented — and so much a greater evil, as we have naught to fear, and yet do fear. Therefore either that is evil which we fear, or the act of fearing is in itself evil. Whence, therefore, is it, seeing that God, who is good, has made all these things good? He, indeed, the greatest and chiefest Good, has created these lesser goods; but both Creator and created are all good. Whence is evil? Or was there some evil matter of which He made and formed and ordered it, but left something in it which He did not convert into good? But why was this? Was He powerless to change the whole lump, so that no evil should remain in it, seeing that He is omnipotent? Lastly, why would He make anything at all of it, and not rather by the same omnipotency cause it not to be at all? Or could it indeed exist contrary to His will? Or if it were from eternity, why did He permit it so to be for infinite spaces of times in the past, and was pleased so long after to make something out of it? Or if He wished now all of a sudden to do something, this rather should the Omnipotent have accomplished, that this evil matter should not be at all, and that He only should be the whole, true, chief, and infinite Good. Or if it were not good that He, who was good, should not also be the framer and creator of what was good, then that matter which was evil being removed, and brought to nothing, He might form good matter, whereof He might create all things. For He would not be omnipotent were He not able to create something good without being assisted by that matter which had not been created by Himself. Such like things did I revolve in my miserable breast, overwhelmed with most gnawing cares lest I should die ere I discovered the truth; yet was the faith of Your Christ, our Lord and Saviour, as held in the Catholic Church, fixed firmly in my heart, unformed, indeed, as yet upon many points, and diverging from doctrinal rules, but yet my mind did not utterly leave it, but every day rather drank in more and more of it.

By this time I had also rejected the lying predictions and wicked nonsense of the astrologers. Let Your mercies, from the depths of my soul, give thanks to You for this too, O my God. For You, You alone—for who else calls us back from the death of all errors except that Life which does not know how to die, and that Wisdom which enlightens minds that need light while requiring no light itself, by which the universe is governed down to the fluttering leaves of trees?—You also provided help for my stubbornness as I argued with Vindicianus, a sharp old man, and Nebridius, a young man of exceptional ability. Vindicianus firmly declared, and Nebridius often said, though with some doubt, that there was no art by which to predict future things, but that people's guesses were sometimes helped by luck, and that of the many things they predicted, some came true without the predictors knowing why, since they stumbled upon them through their constant talking. Therefore, You provided a friend for me who regularly consulted astrologers but was not deeply skilled in those arts—rather, as I said, he was a curious inquirer into them. Yet he knew something which he said he had heard from his father, though he did not know how far it might undermine confidence in that art. This man, named Firminius, had received a liberal education and was well trained in rhetoric. He consulted me, as someone very dear to him, about what I thought concerning some of his affairs in which his worldly hopes had risen, viewed in relation to his so-called constellations. I, who had now begun to lean toward Nebridius's opinion on this matter, did not refuse to think about it and tell him what came to my uncertain mind, but I added that I was now almost convinced that these were empty and ridiculous foolishness. At this he told me that his father had been very interested in such books and had a friend who was as absorbed in them as he was. Through their combined study and discussion, they fueled their passion for these trifles so much that they would watch the exact moment when even the dumb animals breeding in their houses gave birth, and then observe the position of the heavens in relation to them, so as to gather fresh evidence for this so-called art. He said, furthermore, that his father had told him that when his mother was about to give birth to him (Firminius), a female slave belonging to his father's friend was also pregnant, which could not be hidden from her master, who took the most diligent care to know about the births even of his dogs. And so it happened that (one for his wife, the other for his slave, with the most careful observation, calculating the days and hours and the smallest divisions of hours) both women gave birth at the same moment, so that both men were forced to record the exact same constellations, down to the smallest detail, one for his son and the other for his young slave. For as soon as the women went into labor, they each notified the other of what had happened in their respective houses and had messengers ready to send to each other as soon as they received news of the actual birth, which each had easily arranged, in his own domain, to report immediately. Thus, he said, the messengers from each party met each other at equal distances from both houses, so that neither man could detect any difference either in the position of the stars or in any other tiny detail. And yet Firminius, born into a high position in his parents' house, traveled through the prosperous paths of this world, increased in wealth, and rose to honors, whereas that slave—with the yoke of his condition remaining unchanged—continued to serve his masters, as Firminius, who knew him, told me.

8. Now also had I repudiated the lying divinations and impious absurdities of the astrologers. Let Your mercies, out of the depth of my soul, confess unto you for this also, O my God. For Thou, Thou altogether — for who else is it that calls us back from the death of all errors, but that Life which knows not how to die, and the Wisdom which, requiring no light, enlightens the minds that do, whereby the universe is governed, even to the fluttering leaves of trees?– You provided also for my obstinacy wherewith I struggled with Vindicianus, an acute old man, and Nebridius, a young one of remarkable talent; the former vehemently declaring, and the latter frequently, though with a certain measure of doubt, saying, That no art existed by which to foresee future things, but that men's surmises had oftentimes the help of luck, and that of many things which they foretold some came to pass unawares to the predictors, who lighted on it by their oft speaking. Thou, therefore, provided a friend for me, who was no negligent consulter of the astrologers, and yet not thoroughly skilled in those arts, but, as I said, a curious consulter with them; and yet knowing somewhat, which he said he had heard from his father, which, how far it would tend to overthrow the estimation of that art, he knew not. This man, then, by name Firminius, having received a liberal education, and being well versed in rhetoric, consulted me, as one very dear to him, as to what I thought on some affairs of his, wherein his worldly hopes had risen, viewed with regard to his so-called constellations; and I, who had now begun to lean in this particular towards Nebridius' opinion, did not indeed decline to speculate about the matter, and to tell him what came into my irresolute mind, but still added that I was now almost persuaded that these were but empty and ridiculous follies. Upon this he told me that his father had been very curious in such books, and that he had a friend who was as interested in them as he was himself, who, with combined study and consultation, fanned the flame of their affection for these toys, insomuch that they would observe the moment when the very dumb animals which bred in their houses brought forth, and then observed the position of the heavens with regard to them, so as to gather fresh proofs of this so-called art. He said, moreover, that his father had told him, that at the time his mother was about to give birth to him (Firminius), a female servant of that friend of his father's was also great with child, which could not be hidden from her master, who took care with most diligent exactness to know of the birth of his very dogs. And so it came to pass that (the one for his wife, and the other for his servant, with the most careful observation, calculating the days and hours, and the smaller divisions of the hours) both were delivered at the same moment, so that both were compelled to allow the very selfsame constellations, even to the minutest point, the one for his son, the other for his young slave. For so soon as the women began to be in travail, they each gave notice to the other of what was fallen out in their respective houses, and had messengers ready to dispatch to one another so soon as they had information of the actual birth, of which they had easily provided, each in his own province, to give instant intelligence. Thus, then, he said, the messengers of the respective parties met one another in such equal distances from either house, that neither of them could discern any difference either in the position of the stars or other most minute points. And yet Firminius, born in a high estate in his parents' house, ran his course through the prosperous paths of this world, was increased in wealth, and elevated to honours; whereas that slave — the yoke of his condition being unrelaxed — continued to serve his masters, as Firminius, who knew him, informed me.

When I heard and believed these things from such a trustworthy person, all my resistance dissolved. First I tried to persuade Firminius himself to abandon that curiosity by telling him that if I examined his constellations and predicted truly, I should see in them parents distinguished among their neighbors, a noble family in his city, good birth, proper education, and a liberal education. But if that slave had consulted me about the same constellations, since they were his too, I would need to tell him, also truthfully, that I saw in them the lowliness of his birth, the degradation of his social position, and everything else completely different from and contrary to what I saw in the other case. How then, looking at the same constellations, could I speak the truth and say different things, or if I said the same things, speak falsely? From this it could certainly be concluded that whatever was truly predicted from examining the constellations was not due to skill but to chance, and whatever was falsely predicted was not from lack of skill in the art but from the randomness of chance.

9. Upon hearing and believing these things, related by so reliable a person, all that resistance of mine melted away; and first I endeavoured to reclaim Firminius himself from that curiosity, by telling him, that upon inspecting his constellations, I ought, were I to foretell truly, to have seen in them parents eminent among their neighbours, a noble family in its own city, good birth, becoming education, and liberal learning. But if that servant had consulted me upon the same constellations, since they were his also, I ought again to tell him, likewise truly, to see in them the meanness of his origin, the abjectness of his condition, and everything else altogether removed from and at variance with the former. Whence, then, looking upon the same constellations, I should, if I spoke the truth, speak diverse things, or if I spoke the same, speak falsely; thence assuredly was it to be gathered, that whatever, upon consideration of the constellations, was foretold truly, was not by art, but by chance; and whatever falsely, was not from the unskillfulness of the art, but the error of chance.

After this opening, I thought carefully about these matters so that none of those foolish people who practiced such things—whom I was eager to challenge and mockingly refute—could argue against me that Firminius had given me false information, or that his father had misled him. I turned my attention to those born as twins, who usually emerge from the womb so close together that the tiny interval of time between them, however much astrologers might insist it has significance in the nature of things, cannot be measured by human observation or recorded in those charts that the astrologer must examine to make accurate predictions. Nor can their predictions be true, because looking at identical charts, the astrologer would have to predict the same things for Esau and Jacob, yet their lives turned out differently. Therefore he must speak falsely; or if he speaks truly, then while looking at identical charts, he cannot say the same things. So he would speak truly not through skill but by chance. For You, O Lord, most righteous Ruler of the universe, work through a hidden inspiration—unknown to both those who inquire and those who are consulted—so that the person seeking counsel hears what he ought to hear according to the hidden merits of souls, drawn from the depths of Your righteous judgment. Let no one say to You, "What is this?" or "Why that?" Let him not say such things, for he is only human.

10. An opening being thus made, I ruminated within myself on such things, that no one of those dotards (who followed such occupations, and whom I longed to assail, and with derision to confute) might urge against me that Firminius had informed me falsely, or his father him: I turned my thoughts to those that are born twins, who generally come out of the womb so near one to another, that the small distance of time between them — how much force soever they may contend that it has in the nature of things — cannot be noted by human observation, or be expressed in those figures which the astrologer is to examine that he may pronounce the truth. Nor can they be true; for, looking into the same figures, he must have foretold the same of Esau and Jacob, whereas the same did not happen to them. He must therefore speak falsely; or if truly, then, looking into the same figures, he must not speak the same things. Not then by art, but by chance, would he speak truly. For Thou, O Lord, most righteous Ruler of the universe, the inquirers and inquired of knowing it not, work by a hidden inspiration that the consulter should hear what, according to the hidden deservings of souls, he ought to hear, out of the depth of Your righteous judgment, to whom let not man say, What is this? or Why that? Let him not say so, for he is man.

And now, my Helper, You had freed me from those chains, and I was searching for the answer: Where does evil come from? I found no solution. But You did not allow me to be swept away from faith by any shifts in my thinking, through which I believed that You exist, that Your ousia (substance) is unchangeable, that You care for and will judge people, and that in Christ Your Son our Lord, and in the Holy Scriptures which the authority of Your Catholic Church urged upon me, You had established the way of human salvation to that life which comes after this death. With these things safe and firmly fixed in my mind, I eagerly searched: Where does evil come from? What torments my laboring heart endured then! What sighs, O my God! Yet even there Your ears were open, and I did not know it. And when I sought earnestly in silence, those silent struggles of my soul were loud cries to Your mercy. No one knows except You what I endured. For did everything that poured from my tongue into the ears of my closest friends truly reach them? Did the whole turmoil of my soul, for which neither time nor words were adequate, reach them? Yet it all reached Your ears, everything I roared out from the groaning of my heart. My desire was before You, and the light of my eyes was not with me, for that light was within, while I was outside. Nor was that light in any place, but my attention was focused on things contained in place. But I found no resting place there, nor did they receive me so that I could say: It is enough, it is well. Nor did they let me turn back to where things might be well enough for me. For I was superior to these things, but inferior to You. You are my true joy when I am subject to You, and You had made subject to me what You created beneath me. This was the true balance and middle ground of my safety: to remain in Your image and by serving You to rule over the body. But when I lifted myself up proudly against You and ran against the Lord upon His neck with the thick bosses of my shield, even these lower things were placed above me and pressed down on me, and nowhere was there relief or space to breathe. They met my sight on every side in crowds and masses, and in my thoughts the images of physical things thrust themselves forward as I was returning to You, as if to say to me: Where are you going, unworthy and vile one? These things had sprung from my wound, for You humble the proud like one who is wounded, and through my own swelling I was separated from You. Yes, my overly swollen face closed up my eyes.

11. And now, O my Helper, had Thou freed me from those fetters; and I inquired, Whence is evil? and found no result. But You suffered me not to be carried away from the faith by any fluctuations of thought, whereby I believed You both to exist, and Your substance to be unchangeable, and that You had a care of and would judge men; and that in Christ, Your Son, our Lord, and the Holy Scriptures, which the authority of Your Catholic Church pressed upon me, You had planned the way of man's salvation to that life which is to come after this death. These things being safe and immoveably settled in my mind, I eagerly inquired, Whence is evil? What torments did my travailing heart then endure! What sighs, O my God! Yet even there were Your ears open, and I knew it not; and when in stillness I sought earnestly, those silent contritions of my soul were strong cries unto Your mercy. No man knows, but only Thou, what I endured. For what was that which was thence through my tongue poured into the ears of my most familiar friends? Did the whole tumult of my soul, for which neither time nor speech was sufficient, reach them? Yet went the whole into Your ears, all of which I bellowed out from the sightings of my heart; and my desire was before You, and the light of my eyes was not with me; for that was within, I without. Nor was that in place, but my attention was directed to things contained in place; but there did I find no resting-place, nor did they receive me in such a way as that I could say, It is sufficient, it is well; nor did they let me turn back, where it might be well enough with me. For to these things was I superior, but inferior to You; and You are my true joy when I am subjected to You, and You had subjected to me what You created beneath me. And this was the true temperature and middle region of my safety, to continue in Your image, and by serving You to have dominion over the body. But when I lifted myself proudly against You, and ran against the Lord, even on His neck, with the thick bosses of my buckler, Job 15:26 even these inferior things were placed above me, and pressed upon me, and nowhere was there alleviation or breathing space. They encountered my sight on every side in crowds and troops, and in thought the images of bodies obtruded themselves as I was returning to You, as if they would say unto me, Where are you going, unworthy and base one? And these things had sprung forth out of my wound; for you humble the proud like one that is wounded, and through my own swelling was I separated from You; yea, my too much swollen face closed up my eyes.

But You, Lord, endure forever, yet You are not angry with us forever, because You have compassion on our dust and ashes. It pleased You to reform my deformity, and through inward stings You disturbed me so that I would remain dissatisfied until You became certain to my inward sight. Through the secret hand of Your remedy, my swelling was reduced, and the confused and darkened eyesight of my mind was healed day by day through the sharp anointings of healthful sorrows.

12. But You, O Lord, shall endure for ever, yet not for ever are You angry with us, because You commiserate our dust and ashes; and it was pleasing in Your sight to reform my deformity, and by inward stings You disturbed me, that I should be dissatisfied until You were made sure to my inward sight. And by the secret hand of Your remedy was my swelling lessened, and the disordered and darkened eyesight of my mind, by the sharp anointings of healthful sorrows, was from day to day made whole.

And You, wanting first to show me how You resist the proud but give grace to the humble, and by what a great act of mercy You had pointed out to people the path of humility—in that Your Logos was made flesh and dwelt among men—You provided for me, through the agency of someone puffed up with enormous pride, certain books of the Platonists, translated from Greek into Latin. And in them I read, not in the same words but to the same effect, supported by many and varied arguments, that "In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God, and the Logos was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. That which was made by Him is life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in darkness, and the darkness does not comprehend it." And that the human soul, though it bears witness to the light, is not itself that light; but the Logos of God, being God, is that true light that enlightens every person coming into the world. And that He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world did not know Him. But that He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him. But to as many as received Him, He gave the power to become the sons of God, to those who believe in His name. This I did not read there.

13. And You, willing first to show me how You resist the proud, but give grace to the humble and by how great art act of mercy You had pointed out to men the path of humility, in that Your Word was made flesh and dwelt among men — You procured for me, by the instrumentality of one inflated with most monstrous pride, certain books of the Platonists, translated from Greek into Latin. And therein I read, not indeed in the same words, but to the selfsame effect, enforced by many and various reasons, that, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him; and without Him was not anything made that was made. That which was made by Him is life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in darkness; and the darkness comprehends it not. John 1:1-5 And that the soul of man, though it bears witness of the light, yet itself is not that light; but the Word of God, being God, is that true light that lights every man that comes into the world. John 1:9 And that He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the world knew Him not. But that He came unto His own, and His own received Him not. But as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe in His name. This I did not read there.

Similarly, I read there that God the Word was born not of flesh, nor of blood, nor of the will of man, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God. But that the Word was made flesh and lived among us, I did not read there. I did find in those books that it was stated in many different ways that the Son existed in the form of the Father and did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, because He was naturally the same substance. But that He emptied Himself and took on the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men, and being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to death, even death on a cross—and that for this reason God highly exalted Him from the dead and gave Him a name above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father—those books do not contain this. They do say that before all time and beyond all time, Your only-begotten Son remains unchangeably co-eternal with You, and that souls receive from His fullness in order to be blessed, and that by participating in the wisdom that remains in them they are renewed so they may be wise. But that in due time Christ died for the ungodly, and that You did not spare Your only Son but delivered Him up for us all, is not there. You have hidden these things from the wise and learned and revealed them to little children, so that those who labor and are heavily burdened might come to Him and He might give them rest, because He is meek and lowly in heart. He will guide the meek in justice and teach the meek His way, looking upon our lowliness and our trouble and forgiving all our sins. But those who are puffed up with the arrogance of supposedly superior learning do not hear Him saying, "Learn from Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." For although they knew God, they did not glorify Him as God or give thanks, but became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools.

14. In like manner, I read there that God the Word was born not of flesh, nor of blood, nor of the will of man, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God. But that the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, I read not there. For I discovered in those books that it was in many and various ways said, that the Son was in the form of the Father, and thought it not robbery to be equal with God, for that naturally He was the same substance. But that He emptied Himself, and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also has highly exalted Him from the dead, and given Him a name above every name; that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father; Philippians 2:6-11 those books have not. For that before all times, and above all times, Your only-begotten Son remains unchangeably co-eternal with You; and that of His fullness souls receive, John 1:16 that they may be blessed; and that by participation of the wisdom remaining in them they are renewed, that they may be wise, is there. But that in due time Christ died for the ungodly, Romans 5:6 and that You spared not Your only Son, but delivered Him up for us all, Romans 8:32 is not there. Because You have hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes; Matthew 11:25 that they that labour and are heavy laden might come unto Him and He might refresh them, because He is meek and lowly in heart. The meek will He guide in judgment; and the meek will He teach His way; looking upon our humility and our distress, and forgiving all our sins. But such as are puffed up with the elation of would-be sublimer learning, do not hear Him saying, Learn of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and you shall find rest unto your souls. Matthew 11:29 Because that, when they knew God, they glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools. Romans 1:21-22

I also read there that they had changed the glory of Your incorruptible nature into idols and various forms—into an image made to look like corruptible man, and birds, and four-footed animals, and reptiles. Specifically, this refers to that Egyptian food for which Esau lost his birthright. For Your firstborn people worshiped the head of a four-footed animal instead of You, turning back in their hearts toward Egypt and bowing down Your image—their own soul—before the image of an ox that eats grass. I found these things there, but I did not feed on them. For it pleased You, O Lord, to remove the reproach of being lesser from Jacob, so that the elder should serve the younger. And You have called the Gentiles into Your inheritance. I had come to You from among the Gentiles, and I reached out for that gold which You wanted Your people to take from Egypt, since wherever it was, it was Yours. And to the Athenians You said through Your apostle that in You we live and move and have our being, as one of their own poets has said. And truly these books came from there. But I did not focus my mind on the idols of Egypt, which they served with Your gold—those who changed the truth of God into a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator.

15. And therefore also did I read there, that they had changed the glory of Your incorruptible nature into idols and various forms — into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things, namely, into that Egyptian food for which Esau lost his birthright; Genesis 25:33-34 for that Your first-born people worshipped the head of a four-footed beast instead of You, turning back in heart towards Egypt, and prostrating Your image — their own soul — before the image of an ox that eats grass. These things found I there; but I fed not on them. For it pleased You, O Lord, to take away the reproach of diminution from Jacob, that the elder should serve the younger; Romans 9:12 and You have called the Gentiles into Your inheritance. And I had come unto You from among the Gentiles, and I strained after that gold which You willed Your people to take from Egypt, seeing that wheresoever it was it was Yours. And to the Athenians Thou said by Your apostle, that in You we live, and move, and have our being; as one of their own poets has said. Acts 17:28 And verily these books came from thence. But I set not my mind on the idols of Egypt, whom they ministered to with Your gold, Hosea 2:8 who changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator. Romans 1:25

Being warned from there to return to myself, I entered into my inner self with You leading me on. I was able to do this because You had become my helper. I entered, and with the eye of my soul—such as it was—I saw above that same eye of my soul, above my mind, the Unchangeable Light. This was not the ordinary light that all flesh can see, nor was it like a greater version of the same kind, as if this light's brightness were much more brilliant and filled everything with its magnitude. That light was not like this, but different—truly, very different from all these. Nor was it above my mind the way oil is above water or heaven is above earth. Rather, it was above because it made me, and I was below because I was made by it. Whoever knows the Truth knows that Light, and whoever knows it knows eternity. Love knows it. O Eternal Truth, and true Love, and loved Eternity! You are my God; to You I sigh both night and day. When I first knew You, You lifted me up so that I might see there was something I could see, yet it was not I who did the seeing. And You pushed back the weakness of my sight, pouring Your beams of light upon me most powerfully, and I trembled with love and fear. I found myself far off from You, in the region of dissimilarity, as if I heard Your voice from on high: I am the food of strong men; grow, and you shall feed upon me. Nor shall you convert me, like the food of your flesh, into you, but you shall be converted into me. And I learned that You correct man for iniquity, and You make my soul consume away like a spider. And I said, Is Truth, therefore, nothing because it is neither diffused through space, finite, nor infinite? And You cried to me from afar, Yes, truly, I Am that I Am. And I heard this as things are heard in the heart, nor was there room for doubt. I would more readily doubt that I live than that Truth is not, which is clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made.

16. And being thence warned to return to myself, I entered into my inward self, Thou leading me on; and I was able to do it, for You had become my helper. And I entered, and with the eye of my soul (such as it was) saw above the same eye of my soul, above my mind, the Unchangeable Light. Not this common light, which all flesh may look upon, nor, as it were, a greater one of the same kind, as though the brightness of this should be much more resplendent, and with its greatness fill up all things. Not like this was that light, but different, yea, very different from all these. Nor was it above my mind as oil is above water, nor as heaven above earth; but above it was, because it made me, and I below it, because I was made by it. He who knows the Truth knows that Light; and he that knows it knows eternity. Love knows it. O Eternal Truth, and true Love, and loved Eternity! You are my God; to You do I sigh both night and day. When I first knew You, You lifted me up, that I might see there was that which I might see, and that yet it was not I that did see. And Thou beat back the infirmity of my sight, pouring forth upon me most strongly Your beams of light, and I trembled with love and fear; and I found myself to be far off from You, in the region of dissimilarity, as if I heard this voice of Yours from on high: I am the food of strong men; grow, and you shall feed upon me; nor shall you convert me, like the food of your flesh, into you, but you shall be converted into me. And I learned that You correct man for iniquity, and You make my soul consume away like a spider. And I said, Is Truth, therefore, nothing because it is neither diffused through space, finite, nor infinite? And You cried to me from afar, Yea, verily, 'I Am that I Am.' And I heard this, as things are heard in the heart, nor was there room for doubt; and I should more readily doubt that I live than that Truth is not, which is clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made. Romans 1:20

I looked at the other things beneath You and realized that they neither completely exist nor completely fail to exist. They do exist because they come from You, but they do not exist in the sense that they are not what You are. For what truly exists is what remains unchangeably. Therefore, it is good for me to hold fast to God, because if I do not remain in Him, I cannot remain in myself either. But He, remaining in Himself, renews all things. And You are the Lord my God, since You do not need my goodness.

17. And I viewed the other things below You, and perceived that they neither altogether are, nor altogether are not. They are, indeed, because they are from You; but are not, because they are not what You are. For that truly is which remains immutably. It is good, then, for me to cleave unto God, for if I remain not in Him, neither shall I in myself; but He, remaining in Himself, renews all things. Wisdom 7:27 And You are the Lord my God, since You stand not in need of my goodness.

It became clear to me that things are good even when they become corrupted. If they were supremely good, they could not be corrupted, and if they were not good at all, there would be nothing in them to corrupt. Corruption causes harm, but unless it could diminish goodness, it could not cause harm. Either corruption does not harm (which is impossible), or—and this is most certain—everything that is corrupted loses some good. But if things were deprived of all good, they would cease to exist. For if they exist and cannot be corrupted at all, they would become better because they would remain incorruptible. And it would be absurd to claim that things which have lost all their goodness are made better. Therefore, if they are deprived of all good, they will no longer exist. So as long as they exist, they are good. Therefore, whatever exists is good. That evil I was searching for is not any substance, because if it were a substance, it would be good. For it would either be an incorruptible substance and thus a supreme good, or a corruptible substance, which could not be corrupted unless it were good. I understood, therefore, and it became clear to me, that you made all things good, and there is no substance at all that was not made by you. And because all that you have made are not equal, all things still exist, because individually they are good, and altogether very good, since our God made all things very good.

18. And it was made clear unto me that those things are good which yet are corrupted, which, neither were they supremely good, nor unless they were good, could be corrupted; because if supremely good, they were incorruptible, and if not good at all, there was nothing in them to be corrupted. For corruption harms, but, less it could diminish goodness, it could not harm. Either, then, corruption harms not, which cannot be; or, what is most certain, all which is corrupted is deprived of good. But if they be deprived of all good, they will cease to be. For if they be, and cannot be at all corrupted, they will become better, because they shall remain incorruptibly. And what more monstrous than to assert that those things which have lost all their goodness are made better? Therefore, if they shall be deprived of all good, they shall no longer be. So long, therefore, as they are, they are good; therefore whatsoever is, is good. That evil, then, which I sought whence it was, is not any substance; for were it a substance, it would be good. For either it would be an incorruptible substance, and so a chief good, or a corruptible substance, which unless it were good it could not be corrupted. I perceived, therefore, and it was made clear to me, that Thou made all things good, nor is there any substance at all that was not made by You; and because all that You have made are not equal, therefore all things are; because individually they are good, and altogether very good, because our God made all things very good.

Nothing at all is evil to You, and not only to You, but to Your entire creation, because there is nothing from outside that can break in and destroy the order You have established for it. But within its parts, some things are considered evil because they do not harmonize with other things, whereas those very same things do harmonize with still others and are good, and are good in themselves. And all these things that do not harmonize with each other do harmonize with the lower part that we call earth, which has its own cloudy and windy sky in harmony with it. Far be it from me, then, to say that these things should not exist. For if I saw nothing but these, I would indeed desire better things, but even for these alone I ought to praise You, because that You are to be praised is shown from the earth, dragons, and all deeps, fire and hail, snow and vapors, stormy winds fulfilling Your word, mountains and all hills, fruitful trees and all cedars, beasts and all cattle, creeping things and flying birds, kings of the earth and all people, princes and all judges of the earth, both young men and maidens, old men and children, praising Your name. But when, from the heavens, these praise You, praise You, our God, in the heights, all Your angels, all Your hosts, sun and moon, all you stars and light, the heavens of heavens, and the waters that are above the heavens, praise Your name. I did not at that moment desire better things, because I was thinking of all things, and with a better judgment I understood that the things above were better than those below, but that all things together were better than those above alone.

19. And to You is there nothing at all evil, and not only to You, but to Your whole creation; because there is nothing without which can break in, and mar that order which You have appointed it. But in the parts thereof, some things, because they harmonize not with others, are considered evil; whereas those very things harmonize with others, and are good, and in themselves are good. And all these things which do not harmonize together harmonize with the inferior part which we call earth, having its own cloudy and windy sky concordant to it. Far be it from me, then, to say, These things should not be. For should I see nothing but these, I should indeed desire better; but yet, if only for these, ought I to praise You; for that You are to be praised is shown from the earth, dragons, and all deeps; fire, and hail; snow, and vapours; stormy winds fulfilling Your word; mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all cedars; beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and flying fowl; kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and all judges of the earth; both young men and maidens; old men and children, praise Your name. But when, from the heavens, these praise You, praise You, our God, in the heights, all Your angels, all Your hosts, sun and moon, all you stars and light, the heavens of heavens, and the waters that be above the heavens, praise Your name. I did not now desire better things, because I was thinking of all; and with a better judgment I reflected that the things above were better than those below, but that all were better than those above alone.

Those people are not whole when any part of Your creation displeases them, just as I was not whole when many things You made displeased me. Because my soul did not dare to be displeased with my God, it refused to accept that anything which displeased it belonged to You. So it adopted the belief in two substances and did not resist this error but spoke foolishly. Returning from that error, it made for itself a god extending through infinite measures of all space, imagined this to be You, placed it in its heart, and once again became the temple of its own idol, which was an abomination to You. But after You soothed my head without my being aware of it and closed my eyes so they would not look at vanity, I stopped focusing on myself for a little while, my madness was calmed, and I awoke in You. I saw You to be infinite, though in a different way, and this vision did not come from the flesh.

20. There is no wholeness in them whom anything of Your creation displeased no more than there was in me, when many things which You made displeased me. And, because my soul dared not be displeased at my God, it would not allow anything to be Yours which displeased it. Hence it had gone into the opinion of two substances, and resisted not, but talked foolishly. And, returning thence, it had made to itself a god, through infinite measures of all space; and imagined it to be You, and placed it in its heart, and again had become the temple of its own idol, which was to You an abomination. But after You had fomented the head of me unconscious of it, and closed my eyes lest they should behold vanity, I ceased from myself a little, and my madness was lulled to sleep; and I awoke in You, and saw You to be infinite, though in another way; and this sight was not derived from the flesh.

I looked back at other things and realized that they owe their being to You, and that they are all bounded in You—but in a different way, not as if existing in physical space, but because You hold all things in Your hand in truth. All things are true to the extent that they have being, and there is no falsehood except when what is not is thought to be. I saw that all things fit together not only with their places but also with their times. And I saw that You, who alone are eternal, did not begin to work after countless ages had passed, because all periods of time—both those that have passed and those that will come—neither go nor come except through You, who work and remain.

21. And I looked back on other things, and I perceived that it was to You they owed their being, and that they were all bounded in You; but in another way, not as being in space, but because You hold all things in Your hand in truth: and all things are true so far as they have a being; nor is there any falsehood, unless that which is not is thought to be. And I saw that all things harmonized, not with their places only, but with their seasons also. And that Thou, who only art eternal, did not begin to work after innumerable spaces of times; for that all spaces of times, both those which have passed and which shall pass, neither go nor come, save through You, working and abiding.

I came to understand, and it was no surprise to me, that bread which tastes unpleasant to someone with an unhealthy sense of taste is enjoyable to someone healthy, or that light which hurts diseased eyes is pleasant to healthy ones. In the same way, Your righteousness displeases the wicked, just as do the viper and the tiny worm—creatures You made good and fitting for the lower levels of Your creation. The wicked themselves also fit in with these lower levels, and the more they differ from You, the more they belong there; but they fit with the higher parts of creation in proportion to how much they become like You. I investigated what evil actually is and discovered that it is not a substance at all, but rather a twisting of the will that turns away from You, O God, the Supreme Substance, toward these lesser things, pouring out its inner contents and puffing itself up outwardly.

22. And I discerned and found it no marvel, that bread which is distasteful to an unhealthy palate is pleasant to a healthy one; and that the light, which is painful to sore eyes, is delightful to sound ones. And Your righteousness displeases the wicked; much more the viper and little worm, which You have created good, fitting in with inferior parts of Your creation; with which the wicked themselves also fit in, the more in proportion as they are unlike You, but with the superior creatures, in proportion as they become like to You. And I inquired what iniquity was, and ascertained it not to be a substance, but a perversion of the will, bent aside from You, O God, the Supreme Substance, towards these lower things, and casting out its bowels, and swelling outwardly.

I was amazed that I now loved You, and not some illusion in Your place. Yet I did not deserve to enjoy my God. I was lifted up to You by Your beauty, but then quickly torn away from You by my own weight, sinking sadly back down into these lower things. This weight was fleshly habit. Still, I carried a memory of You with me, and I had no doubt that You existed as one to whom I could cling. But I was not yet someone who could cling to You, because the corrupted body weighs down the soul, and the earthly dwelling weighs down the mind that thinks about many things. I was absolutely certain that Your invisible things are clearly seen from the creation of the world, being understood by the things that are made—even Your eternal power and Godhead. When I asked myself how I came to admire the beauty of heavenly or earthly bodies, and what enabled me to judge correctly about changeable things and say, "This should be like this, not like that"—when I asked where this ability to judge came from, since I did judge—I discovered the unchangeable and true eternity of Truth, above my changeable mind. Step by step, I moved from bodies to the soul, which uses the body's senses to perceive. From there I moved to the soul's inner faculty, to which the bodily senses present outward things and which even animals can reach. From there I continued to the reasoning faculty, to which everything received from the bodily senses is sent for judgment. This faculty, finding itself also changeable in me, lifted itself up to its own understanding. It pulled my thoughts away from habit and withdrew from the crowd of conflicting illusions, so it could discover the light that illuminated it. Without any doubt, it cried out that the unchangeable must be preferred over the changeable. And in doing so, it knew that unchangeable reality, which it could not have had sure grounds for preferring unless it had somehow already known it. With a flash of trembling vision, it reached that which is. Then I saw Your invisible things understood by the things that are made. But I could not keep my gaze fixed there. My weakness was beaten back, and I was thrown again into my usual habits, carrying with me only a loving memory of what I had experienced and a hunger for what I had, so to speak, smelled but was not yet able to eat.

23. And I marvelled that I now loved You, and no phantasm instead of You. And yet I did not merit to enjoy my God, but was transported to You by Your beauty, and presently torn away from You by my own weight, sinking with grief into these inferior things. This weight was carnal custom. Yet was there a remembrance of You with me; nor did I any way doubt that there was one to whom I might cleave, but that I was not yet one who could cleave unto You; for that the body which is corrupted presses down the soul, and the earthly dwelling weighs down the mind which thinks upon many things. Wisdom 9:15 And most certain I was that Your invisible things from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even Your eternal power and Godhead. Romans 1:20 For, inquiring whence it was that I admired the beauty of bodies whether celestial or terrestrial, and what supported me in judging correctly on things mutable, and pronouncing, This should be thus, this not, — inquiring, then, whence I so judged, seeing I did so judge, I had found the unchangeable and true eternity of Truth, above my changeable mind. And thus, by degrees, I passed from bodies to the soul, which makes use of the senses of the body to perceive; and thence to its inward faculty, to which the bodily senses represent outward things, and up to which reach the capabilities of beasts; and thence, again, I passed on to the reasoning faculty, unto which whatever is received from the senses of the body is referred to be judged, which also, finding itself to be variable in me, raised itself up to its own intelligence, and from habit drew away my thoughts, withdrawing itself from the crowds of contradictory phantasms; that so it might find out that light by which it was besprinkled, when, without all doubting, it cried out, that the unchangeable was to be preferred before the changeable; whence also it knew that unchangeable, which, unless it had in some way known, it could have had no sure ground for preferring it to the changeable. And thus, with the flash of a trembling glance, it arrived at that which is. And then I saw Your invisible things understood by the things that are made. Romans 1:20 But I was not able to fix my gaze thereon; and my infirmity being beaten back, I was thrown again on my accustomed habits, carrying along with me naught but a loving memory thereof, and an appetite for what I had, as it were, smelt the odour of, but was not yet able to eat.

I searched for a way to gain enough strength to enjoy You, but I didn't find it until I embraced that Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus, who is over all, God blessed forever, calling to me and saying, I am the way, the truth, and the life, and mixing that food which I was unable to receive with our flesh. For the Word was made flesh, so that Your wisdom, by which You created all things, might provide milk for our infancy. For I did not grasp my Lord Jesus—I, though humbled, did not grasp the humble One, nor did I know what lesson His weakness would teach us. For Your Word, the Eternal Truth, exalted above the higher parts of Your creation, lifts up those who are subject to Itself. But in this lower world He built for Himself a humble dwelling of our clay, by which He intended to bring down from themselves those who would be subjected and bring them over to Himself, calming their pride and nurturing their love, so that they might go no further in self-confidence but rather become weak, seeing before their feet the Divinity made weak by taking our coats of skins. Being worn out, they might cast themselves down upon It, and It rising, might lift them up.

24. And I sought a way of acquiring strength sufficient to enjoy You; but I found it not until I embraced that Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus, 1 Timothy 2:5 who is over all, God blessed for ever, Romans 9:5 calling unto me, and saying, I am the way, the truth, and the life, John 14:6 and mingling that food which I was unable to receive with our flesh. For the Word was made flesh, John 1:14 that Your wisdom, by which You created all things, might provide milk for our infancy. For I did not grasp my Lord Jesus, — I, though humbled, grasped not the humble One; nor did I know what lesson that infirmity of His would teach us. For Your Word, the Eternal Truth, pre-eminent above the higher parts of Your creation, raises up those that are subject unto Itself; but in this lower world built for Itself a humble habitation of our clay, whereby He intended to abase from themselves such as would be subjected and bring them over unto Himself, allaying their swelling, and fostering their love; to the end that they might go on no further in self-confidence, but rather should become weak, seeing before their feet the Divinity weak by taking our coats of skins; and wearied, might cast themselves down upon It, and It rising, might lift them up.

But I thought differently, thinking of the Lord Christ only as a man of excellent wisdom, whom no one could equal. This was especially because, having been wonderfully born of a virgin, he seemed through God's care for us to have gained such great authority as a leader—setting an example of despising temporal things in order to obtain immortality. But I could not even imagine what mystery there was in "The Word was made flesh." I had only learned from what is written about him that he ate, drank, slept, walked, rejoiced in spirit, felt sadness, and spoke. I knew that flesh alone did not cling to your Word, but also a human soul and body. All who know the unchangeableness of your Word know this, and I now knew it as well as I could, and I had no doubt about it at all. For to move the limbs of the body at will at one time and not at another; to be stirred by some emotion at one time and not at another; to express wise sayings through signs at one time and to keep silent at another—these are properties of a soul and mind subject to change. And if these things were falsely written about him, all the rest would be at risk of being called false, and there would remain no saving faith for the human race in those books. Since, therefore, they were written truthfully, I acknowledged that Christ was a complete man—not just the body of a man, nor a body with a sensitive soul but no rational soul, but a true man. I decided he was to be preferred above others, not only as being a form of truth, but because of a certain great excellence of human nature and a more complete participation in wisdom. But Alypius imagined that the Catholics believed God was clothed with flesh in such a way that there was no soul in Christ besides God and flesh, and he did not think a human mind was attributed to him. And because he was thoroughly convinced that the actions recorded of him could only be performed by a living and rational creature, he moved more slowly toward the Christian faith. But later, learning that this was the error of the Apollinarian heretics, he rejoiced in the Catholic faith and conformed to it. But it was somewhat later, I confess, that I learned how in the sentence "The Word was made flesh," the Catholic truth can be distinguished from the falsehood of Photinus. For the disapproval of heretics makes the tenets of your Church and sound doctrine stand out boldly. For there must also be heresies, so that the approved may be made manifest among the weak.

25. But I thought differently, thinking only of my Lord Christ as of a man of excellent wisdom, to whom no man could be equalled; especially for that, being wonderfully born of a virgin, He seemed, through the divine care for us, to have attained so great authority of leadership — for an example of contemning temporal things for the obtaining of immortality. But what mystery there was in, The Word was made flesh, I could not even imagine. Only I had learned out of what is delivered to us in writing of Him, that He ate, drank, slept, walked, rejoiced in spirit, was sad, and discoursed; that flesh alone did not cleave unto Your Word, but with the human soul and body. All know thus who know the unchangeableness of Your Word, which I now knew as well as I could, nor did I at all have any doubt about it. For, now to move the limbs of the body at will, now not; now to be stirred by some affection, now not; now by signs to enunciate wise sayings, now to keep silence, are properties of a soul and mind subject to change. And should these things be falsely written of Him, all the rest would risk the imputation, nor would there remain in those books any saving faith for the human race. Since, then, they were written truthfully, I acknowledged a perfect man to be in Christ — not the body of a man only, nor with the body a sensitive soul without a rational, but a very man; whom, not only as being a form of truth, but for a certain great excellency of human nature and a more perfect participation of wisdom, I decided was to be preferred before others. But Alypius imagined the Catholics to believe that God was so clothed with flesh, that, besides God and flesh, there was no soul in Christ, and did not think that a human mind was ascribed to Him. And, because He was thoroughly persuaded that the actions which were recorded of Him could not be performed except by a vital and rational creature, he moved the more slowly towards the Christian faith. But, learning afterwards that this was the error of the Apollinarian heretics, he rejoiced in the Catholic faith, and was conformed to it. But somewhat later it was, I confess, that I learned how in the sentence, The Word was made flesh, the Catholic truth can be distinguished from the falsehood of Photinus. For the disapproval of heretics makes the tenets of Your Church and sound doctrine to stand out boldly. For there must be also heresies, that the approved may be made manifest among the weak. 1 Corinthians 11:19

After I read those books of the Platonists and they urged me to search for truth that has no physical body, I saw Your invisible things, understood by those things that are made, and though I was pushed back, I grasped what it was that the darkness of my mind would not let me fully contemplate. I was certain that You exist, that You are infinite, and yet not spread out in space either finite or infinite; that You truly are, You who are always the same, never changing in any part or through any movement; and that all other things come from You, based on this most certain ground alone: that they exist. I was indeed certain of these things, yet too weak to enjoy You. I talked as if I were an expert, but if I had not sought Your way in Christ our Savior, I would have proved not skillful but ready to perish. For at that time, filled with my punishment, I had begun to want to appear wise, yet I did not mourn but was instead puffed up with knowledge. For where was that charity building upon the foundation of humility, which is Jesus Christ? Or when would those books teach me this? Therefore, I believe it was Your will that I should encounter them before I studied Your Scriptures, so that it might be imprinted on my memory how they affected me, and so that afterward, when I was subdued by Your books and my wounds were touched by Your healing fingers, I might perceive and distinguish the difference between presumption and confession—between those who saw where they needed to go yet did not see the way, and the way that leads not only to seeing but to dwelling in the blessed country. For if I had first been shaped by Your Holy Scriptures, and if You had, through familiar use of them, become sweet to me, and I had then encountered those volumes afterward, they might perhaps have pulled me away from the solid ground of piety; or if I had remained firm in that wholesome disposition I had absorbed from Scripture, I might have thought that the same result could have been achieved by studying those books alone.

26. But having then read those books of the Platonists, and being admonished by them to search for incorporeal truth, I saw Your invisible things, understood by those things that are made; Romans 1:20 and though repulsed, I perceived what that was, which through the darkness of my mind I was not allowed to contemplate — assured that You were, and were infinite, and yet not diffused in space finite or infinite; and that Thou truly art, who art the same ever, varying neither in part nor motion; and that all other things are from You, on this most sure ground alone, that they are. Of these things was I indeed assured, yet too weak to enjoy You. I chattered as one well skilled; but had I not sought Your way in Christ our Saviour, I would have proved not skilful, but ready to perish. For now, filled with my punishment, I had begun to desire to seem wise; yet mourned I not, but rather was puffed up with knowledge. 1 Corinthians 8:1 For where was that charity building upon the foundation of humility, which is Jesus Christ? 1 Corinthians 3:11 Or, when would these books teach me it? Upon these, therefore, I believe, it was Your pleasure that I should fall before I studied Your Scriptures, that it might be impressed on my memory how I was affected by them; and that afterwards when I was subdued by Your books, and when my wounds were touched by Your healing fingers, I might discern and distinguish what a difference there is between presumption and confession — between those who saw whither they were to go, yet saw not the way, and the way which leads not only to behold but to inhabit the blessed country. For had I first been moulded in Your Holy Scriptures, and had Thou, in the familiar use of them, grown sweet unto me, and had I afterwards fallen upon those volumes, they might perhaps have withdrawn me from the solid ground of piety; or, had I stood firm in that wholesome disposition which I had thence imbibed, I might have thought that it could have been attained by the study of those books alone.

I eagerly took hold of that sacred writing of Your Spirit, especially the Apostle Paul's letters. The contradictions I once thought I saw in him disappeared—where his words seemed to conflict with themselves and not align with the Law and the Prophets. The face of that pure message appeared unified to me, and I learned to rejoice with trembling. So I began reading, and I found that whatever truth I had read in those philosophical writings was declared here with the added recommendation of Your grace—so that whoever sees may not boast as if he had not received not only what he sees, but even the ability to see it (for what does he have that he has not received?); and that he may not only be urged to see You, who are always the same, but also be healed so he can hold onto You; and that whoever cannot see You from far away may still walk on the path by which he can reach, see, and possess You. For even if a man delights in the law of God according to the inward man, what will he do about that other law in his members that wages war against the law of his mind and takes him captive to the law of sin in his members? For You are righteous, O Lord, but we have sinned and acted wickedly and done evil, and Your hand has grown heavy upon us, and we are justly handed over to that ancient sinner, the ruler of death—for he persuaded our will to become like his will, by which he did not remain in Your truth. What can wretched man do? Who will deliver him from the body of this death, except Your grace alone, through Jesus Christ our Lord, whom You begot as co-eternal and created in the beginning of Your ways, in whom the Prince of this world found nothing deserving death, yet killed Him anyway, and the written record that stood against us was erased? Those philosophical writings do not contain this. Those pages do not contain the expression of this piety—the tears of confession, Your sacrifice, a troubled spirit, a broken and contrite heart, the salvation of the people, the bride city, the down payment of the Holy Spirit, the cup of our redemption. No one sings there, "Shall not my soul be subject to God? For from Him comes my salvation, for He is my God and my salvation, my defender, I shall not be moved any further." No one there hears Him calling, "Come to me all you who labor." They refuse to learn from Him because He is meek and lowly of heart, for You have hidden these things from the wise and clever and revealed them to little children. For it is one thing to see the land of peace from the wooded peak of a mountain and not find the way there—to attempt impossible paths in vain, blocked and ambushed by fugitives and deserters under their captain the lion and the dragon—and quite another to stay on the road that leads there, guarded by the army of the heavenly commander, where those who have deserted the heavenly army do not rob, since they avoid it like torture. These things sank into my heart in a remarkable way when I read that least of Your apostles and had meditated on Your works, and I was filled with great fear.

27. Most eagerly, then, did I seize that venerable writing of Your Spirit, but more especally the Apostle Paul; and those difficulties vanished away, in which he at one time appeared to me to contradict himself, and the text of his discourse not to agree with the testimonies of the Law and the Prophets. And the face of that pure speech appeared to me one and the same; and I learned to rejoice with trembling. So I commenced, and found that whatsoever truth I had there read was declared here with the recommendation of Your grace; that he who sees may not so glory as if he had not received not only that which he sees, but also that he can see (for what has he which he has not received?); and that he may not only be admonished to see You, who art ever the same, but also may be healed, to hold You; and that he who from afar off is not able to see, may still walk on the way by which he may reach, behold, and possess You. For though a man delight in the law of God after the inward man, Romans 7:22 what shall he do with that other law in his members which wars against the law of his mind, and brings him into captivity to the law of sin, which is in his members? For You are righteous, O Lord, but we have sinned and committed iniquity, and have done wickedly, and Your hand is grown heavy upon us, and we are justly delivered over unto that ancient sinner, the governor of death; for he induced our will to be like his will, whereby he remained not in Your truth. What shall wretched man do? Who shall deliver him from the body of this death, but Your grace only, through Jesus 'Christ our Lord,' Romans 7:24-25 whom You have begotten co-eternal, and created in the beginning of Your ways, in whom the Prince of this world found nothing worthy of death, John 18:38 yet killed he Him, and the handwriting which was contrary to us was blotted out? Colossians 2:14 This those writings contain not. Those pages contain not the expression of this piety — the tears of confession, Your sacrifice, a troubled spirit, a broken and a contrite heart, the salvation of the people, the espoused city, Revelation 21:2 the earnest of the Holy Ghost, 2 Corinthians 5:5 the cup of our redemption. No man sings there, Shall not my soul be subject unto God? For of Him comes my salvation, for He is my God and my salvation, my defender, I shall not be further moved. No one there hears Him calling, Come unto me all you that labour. They scorn to learn of Him, because He is meek and lowly of heart; Matthew 11:28-29 for You have hid those things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. Matthew 11:25 For it is one thing, from the mountain's wooded summit to see the land of peace, Deuteronomy 32:49 and not to find the way there — in vain to attempt impassable ways, opposed and waylaid by fugitives and deserters, under their captain the lion 1 Peter 5:8 and the dragon; Revelation 12:3 and another to keep to the way that leads there, guarded by the host of the heavenly general, where they rob not who have deserted the heavenly army, which they shun as torture. These things did in a wonderful manner sink into my bowels, when I read that least of Your apostles, and had reflected upon Your works, and feared greatly.

O You, my hope from my youth, where were You to me, and where had You gone? For truly, had You not created me and made me different from the beasts of the field and birds of the air? You had made me wiser than they, yet I wandered about in dark and slippery places, and searched for You outside of myself, and did not find the God of my heart, and had gone into the depths of the sea, and lost trust and gave up hope of finding the truth. By this time my mother, made strong by her devotion, had come to me, following me over sea and land, feeling secure in You through all dangers. For during the dangers at sea she comforted the sailors themselves (to whom the inexperienced passengers, when frightened, would normally go for comfort), assuring them of a safe arrival, because she had been assured of this by You in a vision. She found me in serious danger, through despair of ever finding truth. But when I told her that I was no longer a Manichean, though not yet a Catholic Christian, she did not jump for joy as if this were unexpected; although she was now relieved concerning that part of my misery for which she had mourned me as one dead, but who would be raised to You, carrying me forth upon the stretcher of her thoughts, so that You might say to the widow's son, Young man, I say to you, arise, and he would come back to life and begin to speak, and You would deliver him to his mother. Her heart, then, was not stirred with any violent excitement when she heard that what she daily begged of You with tears was already accomplished in such great measure—that though I had not yet grasped the truth, I was rescued from falsehood. Yes, rather, because she was fully confident that You, who had promised the whole, would give the rest, most calmly and with a heart full of confidence, she replied to me that she believed in Christ, that before she departed this life, she would see me a Catholic believer. This much she said to me; but to You, O Fountain of mercies, she poured out more frequent prayers and tears, that You would hasten Your help and enlighten my darkness; and she hurried all the more eagerly to the church, and hung upon the words of Ambrose, praying for the fountain of water that springs up into everlasting life. For she loved that man as an angel of God, because she knew that it was by him that I had been brought, for the present, to that troubled state of agitation I was now in, through which she was fully persuaded that I would pass from sickness to health, after a crisis, as it were, of a sharper attack, which doctors call the crisis.

1. O Thou, my hope from my youth, where were Thou to me, and whither had Thou gone? For in truth, had Thou not created me, and made a difference between me and the beasts of the field and fowls of the air? You had made me wiser than they, yet did I wander about in dark and slippery places, and sought You abroad out of myself, and found not the God of my heart; and had entered the depths of the sea, and distrusted and despaired finding out the truth. By this time my mother, made strong by her piety, had come to me, following me over sea and land, in all perils feeling secure in You. For in the dangers of the sea she comforted the very sailors (to whom the inexperienced passengers, when alarmed, were wont rather to go for comfort), assuring them of a safe arrival, because she had been so assured by You in a vision. She found me in grievous danger, through despair of ever finding truth. But when I had disclosed to her that I was now no longer a Manichæan, though not yet a Catholic Christian, she did not leap for joy as at what was unexpected; although she was now reassured as to that part of my misery for which she had mourned me as one dead, but who would be raised to You, carrying me forth upon the bier of her thoughts, that You might say unto the widow's son, Young man, I say unto You, arise, and he should revive, and begin to speak, and You should deliver him to his mother. Luke 7:12-l5 Her heart, then, was not agitated with any violent exultation, when she had heard that to be already in so great a part accomplished which she daily, with tears, entreated of You might be done — that though I had not yet grasped the truth, I was rescued from falsehood. Yea, rather, for that she was fully confident that Thou, who had promised the whole, would give the rest, most calmly, and with a breast full of confidence, she replied to me, She believed in Christ, that before she departed this life, she would see me a Catholic believer. And thus much said she to me; but to You, O Fountain of mercies, poured she out more frequent prayers and tears, that You would hasten Your aid, and enlighten my darkness; and she hurried all the more assiduously to the church, and hung upon the words of Ambrose, praying for the fountain of water that springs up into everlasting life. John 4:14 For she loved that man as an angel of God, because she knew that it was by him that I had been brought, for the present, to that perplexing state of agitation I was now in, through which she was fully persuaded that I should pass from sickness unto health, after an excess, as it were, of a sharper fit, which doctors term the crisis.

When my mother came to the chapels built in memory of the saints, bringing cakes, bread, and wine as was her custom in Africa, she was stopped by the doorkeeper. As soon as she learned that the bishop himself had forbidden this practice, she accepted his decision so devoutly and obediently that I was amazed at how readily she criticized her own custom rather than question his prohibition. She was not driven by any craving for wine, nor did love of wine make her resist the truth, as it does for too many men and women who react to a message of self-control the way drunk people react to a cup of water. When she brought her basket of festive foods, which she would taste first before giving the rest away, she never allowed herself more than one small cup of wine, diluted to suit her own moderate taste, which she would sip out of courtesy. Even if there were many chapels of departed saints that should be honored in the same way, she still carried the same cup to use everywhere. This cup, which was heavily diluted with water and had also grown lukewarm from being carried around, she would distribute in small sips to those present, for she was seeking their devotion, not pleasure. Therefore, as soon as she discovered that this custom had been forbidden by that renowned preacher and most devout bishop, even for those who practiced it moderately, since it might provide an opportunity for excess to those prone to drunkenness, and because these feast-day observances in honor of the dead closely resembled the superstitions of the pagans, she most gladly gave it up. Instead of a basket filled with the fruits of the earth, she had learned to bring to the chapels of the martyrs a heart full of more purified prayers, and to give everything she could to the poor, so that the communion of the Lord's body might be properly celebrated there, where the martyrs had been sacrificed and crowned following the pattern of His passion. Yet it seems to me, O Lord my God, and my heart thinks this in your sight, that my mother would perhaps not have given up this custom so easily had it been forbidden by someone else whom she did not love as she loved Ambrose. She loved him deeply for the sake of my salvation, and he truly loved her because of her most devout way of life, by which, fervent in spirit in good works, she regularly attended church. He would often burst into praise of her when he saw me, congratulating me on having such a mother, little knowing what kind of son she had in me, who doubted all these things and could not imagine that the way of life could be discovered.

2. When, therefore, my mother had at one time — as was her custom in Africa — brought to the oratories built in the memory of the saints certain cakes, and bread, and wine, and was forbidden by the doorkeeper, so soon as she learned that it was the bishop who had forbidden it, she so piously and obediently acceded to it, that I myself marvelled how readily she could bring herself to accuse her own custom, rather than question his prohibition. For wine-bibbing did not take possession of her spirit, nor did the love of wine stimulate her to hatred of the truth, as it does too many, both male and female, who nauseate at a song of sobriety, as men well drunk at a draught of water. But she, when she had brought her basket with the festive meats, of which she would taste herself first and give the rest away, would never allow herself more than one little cup of wine, diluted according to her own temperate palate, which, out of courtesy, she would taste. And if there were many oratories of departed saints that ought to be honoured in the same way, she still carried round with her the selfsame cup, to be used everywhere; and this, which was not only very much watered, but was also very tepid with carrying about, she would distribute by small sips to those around; for she sought their devotion, not pleasure. As soon, therefore, as she found this custom to be forbidden by that famous preacher and most pious prelate, even to those who would use it with moderation, lest thereby an occasion of excess might be given to such as were drunken, and because these, so to say, festivals in honour of the dead were very like the superstition of the Gentiles, she most willingly abstained from it. And in lieu of a basket filled with fruits of the earth, she had learned to bring to the oratories of the martyrs a heart full of more purified petitions, and to give all that she could to the poor; that so the communion of the Lord's body might be rightly celebrated there, where, after the example of His passion, the martyrs had been sacrificed and crowned. But yet it seems to me, O Lord my God, and thus my heart thinks of it in your sight, that my mother perhaps would not so easily have given way to the relinquishment of this custom had it been forbidden by another whom she loved not as Ambrose, whom, out of regard for my salvation, she loved most dearly; and he loved her truly, on account of her most religious conversation, whereby, in good works so fervent in spirit, Romans 12:11 she frequented the church; so that he would often, when he saw me, burst forth into her praises, congratulating me that I had such a mother — little knowing what a son she had in me, who was in doubt as to all these things, and did not imagine the way of life could be found out.

I no longer groaned in my prayers for You to help me. Instead, my mind was entirely focused on gaining knowledge and eager to argue. I considered Ambrose a happy man by worldly standards, since such important people honored him. Only his celibacy seemed to me a difficult burden. But I could not guess what hope he held, what struggles he faced against the temptations that came with his very excellence, what comfort he found in hardships, and what delicious joys Your bread brought to the hidden mouth of his heart when he meditated on it—nor had I experienced these things myself. He did not know about my confusion or the danger I was in. I could not ask him what I wanted in the way I wanted, because I was prevented from hearing him and speaking with him by crowds of busy people whose weaknesses he served. When he was not occupied with them—which was only a short time—he was either refreshing his body with necessary food or his mind with reading. But when reading, his eyes moved over the pages and his heart searched for the meaning, but his voice and tongue were silent. Often when we came to see him—for no one was forbidden to enter, and it was not his custom to have visitors announced—we saw him reading to himself this way, and never any other way. After sitting in silence for a long time (for who would dare interrupt someone so focused?), we felt obliged to leave, concluding that in the little time he had to restore his mind, free from the noise of other people's business, he did not want to be distracted. Perhaps he was also afraid that if the author he was studying expressed something unclear, some uncertain and attentive listener might ask him to explain it or discuss some of the more difficult questions, and then, with his time taken up this way, he could not get through as many books as he wanted. Although protecting his voice, which was very easily strained, might have been the truer reason for his reading to himself. But whatever his reason for doing this, it was undoubtedly a good one in such a man.

3. Nor did I now groan in my prayers that You would help me; but my mind was wholly intent on knowledge, and eager to dispute. And Ambrose himself I esteemed a happy man, as the world counted happiness, in that such great personages held him in honour; only his celibacy appeared to me a painful thing. But what hope he cherished, what struggles he had against the temptations that beset his very excellences, what solace in adversities, and what savoury joys Your bread possessed for the hidden mouth of his heart when ruminating on it, I could neither conjecture, nor had I experienced. Nor did he know my embarrassments, nor the pit of my danger. For I could not request of him what I wished as I wished, in that I was debarred from hearing and speaking to him by crowds of busy people, whose infirmities he devoted himself to. With whom when he was not engaged (which was but a little time), he either was refreshing his body with necessary sustenance, or his mind with reading. But while reading, his eyes glanced over the pages, and his heart searched out the sense, but his voice and tongue were silent. Ofttimes, when we had come (for no one was forbidden to enter, nor was it his custom that the arrival of those who came should be announced to him), we saw him thus reading to himself, and never otherwise; and, having long sat in silence (for who dared interrupt one so intent?), we were fain to depart, inferring that in the little time he secured for the recruiting of his mind, free from the clamour of other men's business, he was unwilling to be taken off. And perchance he was fearful lest, if the author he studied should express anything vaguely, some doubtful and attentive hearer should ask him to expound it, or to discuss some of the more abstruse questions, as that, his time being thus occupied, he could not turn over as many volumes as he wished; although the preservation of his voice, which was very easily weakened, might be the truer reason for his reading to himself. But whatever was his motive in so doing, doubtless in such a man was a good one.

But I really couldn't find an opportunity to learn what I wanted from that holy oracle of Yours, his heart, unless it could be addressed briefly. However, those turmoil within me needed to find him with plenty of free time so I could pour them out to him, but I was never able to find him like that. I did hear him every Sunday, rightly dividing the word of truth among the people, and I became increasingly convinced that all those tangled knots of clever slander that those deceivers of ours had tied against the divine books could be untangled. But as soon as I understood that "man made after the image of Him that created him" was not understood by Your spiritual children (whom You had caused the Catholic mother to bear again through grace) as if they believed and imagined You to be limited by human form—though I didn't have the faintest or dimmest idea what the nature of a spiritual substance was—I rejoiced, yet felt ashamed that for so many years I had been barking not against the Catholic faith, but against the fables of fleshly imaginations. For I had been both impious and rash in this: that what I should have inquired about in order to learn, I had instead condemned by pronouncing judgment on it. For You, O Most High and most near, most hidden yet most present, who do not have limbs some larger and some smaller, but are wholly everywhere and nowhere in space, and are not of such bodily form, yet You have created man after Your own image, and behold, from head to foot he is confined by space.

4. But verily no opportunity could I find of ascertaining what I desired from that Your so holy oracle, his breast, unless the thing might be entered into briefly. But those surgings in me required to find him at full leisure, that I might pour them out to him, but never were they able to find him so; and I heard him, indeed, every Lord's day, rightly dividing the word of truth 2 Timothy 2:15 among the people; and I was all the more convinced that all those knots of crafty calumnies, which those deceivers of ours had knit against the divine books, could be unravelled. But so soon as I understood, withal, that man made after the image of Him that created him was not so understood by Your spiritual sons (whom of the Catholic mother You had begotten again through grace), as though they believed and imagined You to be bounded by human form — although what was the nature of a spiritual substance I had not the faintest or dimmest suspicion — yet rejoicing, I blushed that for so many years I had barked, not against the Catholic faith, but against the fables of carnal imaginations. For I had been both impious and rash in this, that what I ought inquiring to have learned, I had pronounced on condemning. For Thou, O most high and most near, most secret, yet most present, who hast not limbs some larger some smaller, but art wholly everywhere, and nowhere in space, nor are You of such corporeal form, yet have You created man after Your own image, and, behold, from head to foot is he confined by space.

Since I didn't know how this image of Yours could exist, I should have humbly asked the question of how it was to be believed, rather than arrogantly attacking it as if people actually believed it that way. Therefore, my anxiety about what I could hold as certain gnawed at my soul all the more sharply because I felt ashamed that, having been deceived for so long by the promise of certainties, I had childishly and stubbornly talked about so many uncertain things as if they were certain. That they were falsehoods became clear to me later. However, I was certain that they were uncertain, and that I had previously held them as certain when, in blind combativeness, I accused Your Catholic Church. Although I had not yet discovered that she taught the truth, I at least realized she did not teach what I had so fiercely accused her of teaching. In this way I was humbled and converted, and I rejoiced, O my God, that the one Church, the body of Your only Son (in which the name of Christ had been placed upon me as an infant), did not value these childish nonsense ideas, nor did she maintain, in her sound doctrine, any belief that would confine You, the Creator of all, in space—however great and wide, yet still bounded on all sides by the limits of a human form.

5. As, then, I knew not how this image of Yours should subsist, I should have knocked and propounded the doubt how it was to be believed, and not have insultingly opposed it, as if it were believed. Anxiety, therefore, as to what to retain as certain, did all the more sharply gnaw into my soul, the more shame I felt that, having been so long deluded and deceived by the promise of certainties, I had, with puerile error and petulance, prated of so many uncertainties as if they were certainties. For that they were falsehoods became apparent to me afterwards. However, I was certain that they were uncertain, and that I had formerly held them as certain when with a blind contentiousness I accused Your Catholic Church, which though I had not yet discovered to teach truly, yet not to teach that of which I had so vehemently accused her. In this manner was I confounded and converted, and I rejoiced, O my God, that the one Church, the body of Your only Son (wherein the name of Christ had been set upon me when an infant), did not appreciate these infantile trifles, nor maintained, in her sound doctrine, any tenet that would confine You, the Creator of all, in space — though ever so great and wide, yet bounded on all sides by the restraints of a human form.

I was also glad that the ancient Scriptures of the law and the prophets were now set before me to read, no longer with the attitude that had made them seem completely absurd earlier when I criticized your holy people for thinking that way—though in truth they had not thought that way at all. I listened with pleasure as Ambrose, in his sermons to the people, very carefully and often recommended this text as a rule: "The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life." Drawing back the mystical veil, he spiritually opened up passages that, when taken according to the letter, seemed to teach wrong doctrines. He taught nothing in this that offended me, even though he taught things I did not yet know to be true. During all this time I held back my heart from agreeing to anything, afraid of falling headlong into error, but by remaining in this suspended state I was actually dying more severely. For I wanted to be as certain about the things I could not see as I was that seven and three are ten. I was not so crazy as to think that even this could not be understood, but I wanted to have the same clarity about other things, whether physical things that were not present to my senses or spiritual things, which I did not know how to think about except in physical terms. If I had simply believed, I could have been healed, so that the vision of my soul, once cleared, might somehow be directed toward your truth, which always remains and never fails in anything. But just as someone who has experienced a bad doctor becomes afraid to trust even a good one, so it was with the health of my soul, which could only be healed by believing. Yet fearing it might believe falsehoods, it refused to be cured, resisting your hands—you who have prepared the medicines of faith for us, applied them to the diseases of the whole world, and given them such great authority.

6. I rejoiced also that the old Scriptures of the law and the prophets were laid before me, to be perused, not now with that eye to which they seemed most absurd before, when I censured Your holy ones for so thinking, whereas in truth they thought not so; and with delight I heard Ambrose, in his sermons to the people, oftentimes most diligently recommend this text as a rule — The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life; while, drawing aside the mystic veil, he spiritually laid open that which, accepted according to the letter, seemed to teach perverse doctrines — teaching herein nothing that offended me, though he taught such things as I knew not as yet whether they were true. For all this time I restrained my heart from assenting to anything, fearing to fall headlong; but by hanging in suspense I was the worse killed. For my desire was to be as well assured of those things that I saw not, as I was that seven and three are ten. For I was not so insane as to believe that this could not be comprehended; but I desired to have other things as clear as this, whether corporeal things, which were not present to my senses, or spiritual, whereof I knew not how to conceive except corporeally. And by believing I might have been cured, that so the sight of my soul being cleared, it might in some way be directed towards Your truth, which abides always, and fails in naught. But as it happens that he who has tried a bad physician fears to trust himself with a good one, so was it with the health of my soul, which could not be healed but by believing, and, lest it should believe falsehoods, refused to be cured — resisting Your hands, who hast prepared for us the medicaments of faith, and hast applied them to the maladies of the whole world, and hast bestowed upon them so great authority.

From this, I came to prefer the Catholic teaching. I felt that it commanded belief in things not yet demonstrated with more moderation and honesty (whether those things could be demonstrated but not to everyone, or could not be demonstrated at all) than the Manicheans did. The Manicheans mocked our trust by boldly promising knowledge, and then forced us to believe many fantastical and absurd things precisely because those things could not be demonstrated. After that, O Lord, little by little, with the gentlest and most merciful hand, You drew and calmed my heart. You persuaded me by having me consider the great number of things I had never seen nor been present for when they happened—like so many events in secular history, so many reports of places and cities I had not seen, so many friends, so many physicians, so many different people. Unless we believed these things, we would do nothing at all in this life. Finally, You had me consider with what unshakable certainty I believed who my parents were, which I could not have known except by hearsay. Taking all this into consideration, You persuaded me that those who did not believe Your books (which You have established with such great authority among nearly all nations) were to be blamed, not those who believed them. And those people should not be listened to who would say to me, "How do you know that those Scriptures were given to mankind by the Spirit of the one true and most true God?" For this very thing was most of all to be believed, since no contentious and blasphemous questions—of which I had read so many among the self-contradicting philosophers—could ever shake my belief that You exist, whatever You are (though I did not know what), or that the governing of human affairs belongs to You.

7. From this, however, being led to prefer the Catholic doctrine, I felt that it was with more moderation and honesty that it commanded things to be believed that were not demonstrated (whether it was that they could be demonstrated, but not to any one, or could not be demonstrated at all), than was the method of the Manichæans, where our credulity was mocked by audacious promise of knowledge, and then so many most fabulous and absurd things were forced upon belief because they were not capable of demonstration. After that, O Lord, You, little by little, with most gentle and most merciful hand, drawing and calming my heart, persuaded taking into consideration what a multiplicity of things which I had never seen, nor was present when they were enacted, like so many of the things in secular history, and so many accounts of places and cities which I had not seen; so many of friends, so many of physicians, so many now of these men, now of those, which unless we should believe, we should do nothing at all in this life; lastly, with how unalterable an assurance I believed of what parents I was born, which it would have been impossible for me to know otherwise than by hearsay — taking into consideration all this, You persuade me that not they who believed Your books (which, with so great authority, You have established among nearly all nations), but those who believed them not were to be blamed; and that those men were not to be listened unto who should say to me, How do you know that those Scriptures were imparted unto mankind by the Spirit of the one true and most true God? For it was the same thing that was most of all to be believed, since no wranglings of blasphemous questions, whereof I had read so many among the self-contradicting philosophers, could once wring the belief from me that You are — whatsoever You were, though what I knew not — or that the government of human affairs belongs to You.

I believed this with varying degrees of strength at different times, but I always believed both that You exist and that You care for us, even though I didn't understand what should be thought about Your substance or what path led to You or back to You. Since we were too weak to discover truth through reason alone and therefore needed the authority of holy Scripture, I had begun to believe that You would never have given such supreme authority to those Scriptures throughout all lands unless You intended to be believed in and sought through them. Those passages in Scripture that previously seemed inconsistent and troubled me I now attributed to the depth of their mysteries after hearing reasonable explanations of various texts, and Scripture's authority seemed all the more worthy of reverence and religious belief. While it was accessible for everyone to read, it reserved the majesty of its hidden meaning within its deeper significance. It accommodated itself to all people through the straightforward clarity of its language and humble style, yet it also challenged those who were serious-minded. In this way it could welcome everyone into its embrace while also drawing a few people toward You through narrow passages—yet more people than if it had not possessed such authoritative standing or drawn crowds through its holy humility. I thought about these things, and You were with me. I sighed, and You heard me. I wavered, and You guided me. I wandered along the broad way of the world, and You did not abandon me.

8. Thus much I believed, at one time more strongly than another, yet did I ever believe both that You were, and had a care of us, although I was ignorant both what was to be thought of Your substance, and what way led, or led back to You. Seeing, then, that we were too weak by unaided reason to find out the truth, and for this cause needed the authority of the holy writings, I had now begun to believe that You would by no means have given such excellency of authority to those Scriptures throughout all lands, had it not been Your will thereby to be believed in, and thereby sought. For now those things which heretofore appeared incongruous to me in the Scripture, and used to offend me, having heard various of them expounded reasonably, I referred to the depth of the mysteries, and its authority seemed to me all the more venerable and worthy of religious belief, in that, while it was visible for all to read it, it reserved the majesty of its secret within its profound significance, stooping to all in the great plainness of its language and lowliness of its style, yet exercising the application of such as are not light of heart; that it might receive all into its common bosom, and through narrow passages waft over some few towards You, yet many more than if it did not stand upon such a height of authority, nor allured multitudes within its bosom by its holy humility. These things I meditated upon, and You were with me; I sighed, and You heard me; I vacillated, and You guided me; I roamed through the broad way Matthew 7:13 of the world, and You did not desert me.

I longed for honors, wealth, and marriage, and You mocked me. In pursuing these desires I suffered the most bitter hardships, and You were more gracious to me the less You allowed anything that was not You to become sweet to me. Look at my heart, O Lord, for You wanted me to remember all this and confess to You. Now let my soul cling to You, since You have freed it from that sticky birdlime of death. How miserable my soul was! And You irritated the wound it felt, so that by abandoning everything else, it might turn to You—who are above all things, and without whom all things would be nothing—turn to You and be healed. How miserable I was at that time, and how You worked on me to make me aware of my misery on that day when I was preparing to recite a speech praising the Emperor. In that speech I was going to tell many lies, and those lies would be applauded by people who knew I was lying. My heart was pounding with these anxieties and boiling over with the fever of tormenting thoughts. While walking along one of the streets of Milan, I noticed a poor beggar—who at that moment, I think, had a full stomach—joking and happy. I sighed and spoke to the friends around me about the many sorrows that result from our madness. Through all our efforts—like the ones I was engaged in then, dragging along the burden of my own misery under the goad of desires, and by dragging it making it heavier—we were only trying to reach that very happiness which that beggar had already achieved before us, and which we might never attain! What he had obtained through a few begged coins, I was plotting to get through many miserable and twisted schemes—the joy of temporary happiness. He certainly did not possess true joy, but I, with my ambitions, was seeking one much more false. And in fact he was joyful while I was anxious; he was carefree while I was full of fears. But if anyone asked me whether I would rather be cheerful or fearful, I would answer, "Cheerful." Again, if I were asked whether I would rather be like he was or like I was then, I would choose to be myself, even though beset with cares and fears—but this choice came from perversity. Was it really true? I should not have preferred myself to him just because I happened to be more educated than he was, since I took no pleasure in that learning but only sought to please people with it—not to teach them, but only to please them. Therefore You also broke my bones with the rod of Your correction.

9. I longed for honours, gains, wedlock; and You mocked me. In these desires I underwent most bitter hardships, Thou being the more gracious the less You suffered anything which was not Thou to grow sweet to me. Behold my heart, O Lord, who wouldest that I should recall all this, and confess unto You. Now let my soul cleave to You, which You have freed from that fast-holding bird-lime of death. How wretched was it! And You irritated the feeling of its wound, that, forsaking all else, it might be converted unto You — who art above all, and without whom all things would be naught — be converted and be healed. How wretched was I at that time, and how You dealt with me, to make me sensible of my wretchedness on that day wherein I was preparing to recite a panegyric on the Emperor, wherein I was to deliver many a lie, and lying was to be applauded by those who knew I lied; and my heart panted with these cares, and boiled over with the feverishness of consuming thoughts. For, while walking along one of the streets of Milan, I observed a poor mendicant — then, I imagine, with a full belly — joking and joyous; and I sighed, and spoke to the friends around me of the many sorrows resulting from our madness, for that by all such exertions of ours — as those wherein I then laboured, dragging along, under the spur of desires, the burden of my own unhappiness, and by dragging increasing it, we yet aimed only to attain that very joyousness which that mendicant had reached before us, who, perchance, never would attain it! For what he had obtained through a few begged pence, the same was I scheming for by many a wretched and tortuous turning — the joy of a temporary felicity. For he verily possessed not true joy, but yet I, with these my ambitions, was seeking one much more untrue. And in truth he was joyous, I anxious; he free from care, I full of alarms. But should any one inquire of me whether I would rather be merry or fearful, I would reply, Merry. Again, were I asked whether I would rather be such as he was, or as I myself then was, I should elect to be myself, though beset with cares and alarms, but out of perversity; for was it so in truth? For I ought not to prefer myself to him because I happened to be more learned than he, seeing that I took no delight therein, but sought rather to please men by it; and that not to instruct, but only to please. Wherefore also Thou broke my bones with the rod of Your correction. Proverbs 22:15

Let those people be gone from my soul who say to it, "It doesn't matter where a person's joy comes from." That beggar was happy in his drunkenness; you wanted to find happiness in glory. What kind of glory, O Lord? The kind that is not found in You. Just as his joy was not true joy, my glory was not true glory, and it damaged my soul even more. He would sleep off his drunkenness that same night, but I had slept many nights with mine and woken up with it, and would sleep again and wake with it again—I don't know how many times. It really does matter where a person's joy comes from. I know this is true, and the joy of faithful hope is incomparably superior to such emptiness. Yes, and at that time he was better off than me, for he truly was the happier man. Not only because he was completely soaked in cheerfulness while I was torn apart with worries, but also because by wishing people well he had obtained wine, while I, through lying, was chasing after pride. I said much like this to my close friends at the time, and I often noticed in them how things were going with me. I found that things were going badly for me, and I worried about it, which only made that bad situation worse. And if any good fortune came my way, I was reluctant to take hold of it, because it would fly away almost before I could grasp it.

10. Away with those, then, from my soul, who say unto it, It makes a difference from whence a man's joy is derived. That mendicant rejoiced in drunkenness; you longed to rejoice in glory. What glory, O Lord? That which is not in You. For even as his was no true joy, so was mine no true glory; and it subverted my soul more. He would digest his drunkenness that same night, but many a night had I slept with mine, and risen again with it, and was to sleep again and again to rise with it, I know not how oft. It does indeed make a difference whence a man's joy is derived. I know it is so, and that the joy of a faithful hope is incomparably beyond such vanity. Yea, and at that time was he beyond me, for he truly was the happier man; not only for that he was thoroughly steeped in mirth, I torn to pieces with cares, but he, by giving good wishes, had gotten wine, I, by lying, was following after pride. Much to this effect said I then to my dear friends, and I often marked in them how it fared with me; and I found that it went ill with me, and fretted, and doubled that very ill. And if any prosperity smiled upon me, I loathed to seize it, for almost before I could grasp it flew away.

We who lived together as friends all lamented these things, but I discussed them especially and most intimately with Alypius and Nebridius. Alypius was born in the same town as I was, from parents of the highest rank there, though he was younger than me. He had been my student, first when I taught in our hometown and later at Carthage, and he held me in high regard because I seemed to him good and learned. I valued him for his natural love of virtue, which was remarkably strong for someone his age. However, the whirlpool of Carthaginian customs—where these frivolous spectacles are enthusiastically pursued—had drawn him into the madness of the Circensian games. While he was wretchedly caught up in this, I was teaching rhetoric there and had a public school. He did not yet listen to my teaching because of some bad feeling that had developed between his father and me. I had discovered how dangerously obsessed he was with the circus, and I was deeply troubled that he seemed likely to waste his great potential—if he had not already done so. Yet I had no way to advise him or restrain him and bring him back, either through the kindness of a friend or the authority of a teacher. I assumed his feelings toward me were the same as his father's, but this was not the case. Ignoring his father's wishes in this matter, he began to greet me and came into my lecture hall to listen for a short time before leaving.

11. These things we, who lived like friends together, jointly deplored, but chiefly and most familiarly did I discuss them with Alypius and Nebridius, of whom Alypius was born in the same town as myself, his parents being of the highest rank there, but he being younger than I. For he had studied under me, first, when I taught in our own town, and afterwards at Carthage, and esteemed me highly, because I appeared to him good and learned; and I esteemed him for his innate love of virtue, which, in one of no great age, was sufficiently eminent. But the vortex of Carthaginian customs (among whom these frivolous spectacles are hotly followed) had inveigled him into the madness of the Circensian games. But while he was miserably tossed about therein, I was professing rhetoric there, and had a public school. As yet he did not give ear to my teaching, on account of some ill-feeling that had arisen between me and his father. I had then found how fatally he doted upon the circus, and was deeply grieved that he seemed likely — if, indeed, he had not already done so — to cast away his so great promise. Yet had I no means of advising, or by a sort of restraint reclaiming him, either by the kindness of a friend or by the authority of a master. For I imagined that his sentiments towards me were the same as his father's; but he was not such. Disregarding, therefore, his father's will in that matter, he commenced to salute me, and, coming into my lecture-room, to listen for a little and depart.

But I forgot to address this issue with him, so that he would not ruin such a brilliant mind through a blind and reckless craving for worthless entertainment. But You, O Lord, who steer everything You have created, had not forgotten him, since he was destined one day to be among Your children, a leader in Your sacrament. And so that his reform would clearly be credited to You, You brought it about through me, though I knew nothing of it. For one day, when I was sitting in my usual place with my students before me, he came in, greeted me, sat down, and focused his attention on the subject I was teaching. It happened that I was working through a passage, and while I was explaining it, a comparison drawn from the chariot races came to mind, which seemed likely to make what I wanted to say more enjoyable and clearer, mixed with a sharp criticism of those enslaved by that madness. You know, O our God, that I had no intention at that time of curing Alypius of that plague. But he applied it to himself and thought that I would not have said it except for his sake. And what any other person would have used as a reason to be angry with me, this admirable young man took as a reason to be angry with himself and to love me more deeply. For You said it long ago and wrote it in Your book: "Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you" (Proverbs 9:8). But I had not rebuked him—rather You, who use everyone consciously or unconsciously according to the order You know (and that order is right), drew from my heart and tongue burning coals by which You might ignite and heal the promising mind that was wasting away. Let whoever does not reflect on Your mercies be silent in praising You—mercies which I confess to You from my deepest being. For at that speech he leaped out from that deep pit into which he had willingly plunged himself and was blinded by its wretched pastimes. He stirred his mind with firm self-control, and all the filth of the chariot-racing pastimes fell away from him, and he went to them no more. After this, he persuaded his reluctant father to let him be my student. His father yielded and agreed. And Alypius, beginning again to hear me, became involved in the same superstition as I was, loving in the Manicheans that show of self-restraint which he believed to be true and genuine. It was, however, a foolish and deceptive self-restraint, trapping precious souls who were not yet able to reach the height of virtue and were easily deceived by the surface appearance of what was only a shadowy and false virtue.

12. But it slipped my memory to deal with him, so that he should not, through a blind and headstrong desire of empty pastimes, undo so great a wit. But You, O Lord, who governest the helm of all You have created, had not forgotten him, who was one day to be among Your sons, the President of Your sacrament; and that his amendment might plainly be attributed to Yourself, You brought it about through me, but I knowing nothing of it. For one day, when I was sitting in my accustomed place, with my scholars before me, he came in, saluted me, sat himself down, and fixed his attention on the subject I was then handling. It so happened that I had a passage in hand, which while I was explaining, a simile borrowed from the Circensian games occurred to me, as likely to make what I wished to convey pleasanter and plainer, imbued with a biting jibe at those whom that madness had enthralled. You know, O our God, that I had no thought at that time of curing Alypius of that plague. But he took it to himself, and thought that I would not have said it but for his sake. And what any other man would have made a ground of offense against me, this worthy young man took as a reason for being offended at himself, and for loving me more fervently. For You have said it long ago, and written in Your book, Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you. Proverbs 9:8 But I had not rebuked him, but Thou, who makest use of all consciously or unconsciously, in that order which Yourself know (and that order is right), wroughtest out of my heart and tongue burning coals, by which You might set on fire and cure the hopeful mind thus languishing. Let him be silent in Your praises who meditates not on Your mercies, which from my inmost parts confess unto You. For he upon that speech rushed out from that so deep pit, wherein he was wilfully plunged, and was blinded by its miserable pastimes; and he roused his mind with a resolute moderation; whereupon all the filth of the Circensian pastimes flew off from him, and he did not approach them further. Upon this, he prevailed with his reluctant father to let him be my pupil. He gave in and consented. And Alypius, beginning again to hear me, was involved in the same superstition as I was, loving in the Manichæans that ostentation of continency which he believed to be true and unfeigned. It was, however, a senseless and seducing continency, ensnaring precious souls, not able as yet to reach the height of virtue, and easily beguiled with the veneer of what was but a shadowy and feigned virtue.

He did not give up the worldly path that his parents had charmed him into following, and had gone ahead of me to Rome to study law. There he was swept away in an extraordinary manner by an incredible passion for the gladiatorial shows. Though he was completely opposed to and hated such spectacles, one day he happened to meet some of his friends and fellow students who were returning from dinner. They dragged him, despite his strong objections and resistance, into the amphitheatre on a day when these cruel and deadly shows were taking place. He protested, saying: Even if you drag my body to that place and put me there, can you force me to give my mind and turn my eyes to these shows? I will be absent while present, and so I will overcome both you and them. Despite hearing this, they dragged him along anyway, perhaps wanting to see whether he could do what he said. When they arrived and took whatever seats they could find, the whole place was stirred up by the inhuman games. But he shut the doors of his eyes and forbade his mind to wander toward such wickedness—if only he had shut his ears too! When someone fell in the fight, a great cry from the whole crowd strongly stirred him. Overcome by curiosity and ready to despise and rise above it, whatever it was, he opened his eyes and was struck with a deeper wound in his soul than the gladiator he wanted to see had received in his body. He fell more miserably than the one whose fall had raised that great clamor, which entered through his ears and unlocked his eyes, making way for the striking and beating down of his soul. His soul had been bold rather than truly strong until then, and was weaker because it presumed on itself when it should have depended on You. As soon as he saw that blood, he absorbed a kind of savageness. He did not turn away but fixed his gaze, unconsciously drinking in madness. He was delighted with the guilty contest and drunk with the bloody entertainment. He was no longer the same person who had entered, but was now one of the crowd he had joined, a true companion of those who had brought him there. Why say more? He watched, shouted, grew excited, and carried away with him the madness that would drive him to return, not only with those who first enticed him, but even before them, and to draw in others as well. From all this You plucked him with a most powerful and most merciful hand, and taught him not to place confidence in himself but in You—though not until long afterward.

13. He, not relinquishing that worldly way which his parents had bewitched him to pursue, had gone before me to Rome, to study law, and there he was carried away in an extraordinary manner with an incredible eagerness after the gladiatorial shows. For, being utterly opposed to and detesting such spectacles, he was one day met by chance by various of his acquaintance and fellow-students returning from dinner, and they with a friendly violence drew him, vehemently objecting and resisting, into the amphitheatre, on a day of these cruel and deadly shows, he thus protesting: Though you drag my body to that place, and there place me, can you force me to give my mind and lend my eyes to these shows? Thus shall I be absent while present, and so shall overcome both you and them. They hearing this, dragged him on nevertheless, desirous, perchance, to see whether he could do as he said. When they had arrived there, and had taken their places as they could, the whole place became excited with the inhuman sports. But he, shutting up the doors of his eyes, forbade his mind to roam abroad after such naughtiness; and would that he had shut his ears also! For, upon the fall of one in the fight, a mighty cry from the whole audience stirring him strongly, he, overcome by curiosity, and prepared as it were to despise and rise superior to it, no matter what it were, opened his eyes, and was struck with a deeper wound in his soul than the other, whom he desired to see, was in his body; and he fell more miserably than he on whose fall that mighty clamour was raised, which entered through his ears, and unlocked his eyes, to make way for the striking and beating down of his soul, which was bold rather than valiant hitherto; and so much the weaker in that it presumed on itself, which ought to have depended on You. For, directly he saw that blood, he therewith imbibed a sort of savageness; nor did he turn away, but fixed his eye, drinking in madness unconsciously, and was delighted with the guilty contest, and drunken with the bloody pastime. Nor was he now the same he came in, but was one of the throng he came unto, and a true companion of those who had brought him there. Why need I say more? He looked, shouted, was excited, carried away with him the madness which would stimulate him to return, not only with those who first enticed him, but also before them, yea, and to draw in others. And from all this did Thou, with a most powerful and most merciful hand, pluck him, and taughtest him not to repose confidence in himself, but in You — but not till long after.

But all of this was being stored up in his memory as medicine for the future. The same was true of what happened when he was still studying under me at Carthage and was reviewing at midday in the marketplace what he had to recite (as students are accustomed to practice). You allowed him to be arrested as a thief by the market officials. I believe, O our God, that You allowed this for no other reason than that he who would prove to be so great a man in the future should now begin to learn that in judging cases, one person should not rashly condemn another person with reckless credulity. For as he was walking back and forth alone before the judgment seat with his writing tablets and pen, a young man, one of the students and the real thief, secretly bringing a hatchet, entered without Alypius seeing him and went as far as the lead bars that protect the silversmiths' shops, and began to cut away the lead. But when the noise of the hatchet was heard, the silversmiths below began to stir and sent people to arrest whoever they might find. The thief, hearing their voices, ran away and left his hatchet, fearing to be caught with it. Now Alypius, who had not seen him enter, caught sight of him as he left and noticed how quickly he fled. Being curious to know the reasons, he entered the place, where he found the hatchet and stood wondering and thinking, when suddenly those who had been sent found him alone, hatchet in hand, the noise of which had alarmed them and brought them there. They seized him and dragged him away, and gathering the shopkeepers of the marketplace around them, boasted of having caught a notorious thief, and then he was being led away to appear before the judge.

14. But this was all being stored up in his memory for a medicine hereafter. As was that also, that when he was yet studying under me at Carthage, and was meditating at noonday in the market-place upon what he had to recite (as scholars are wont to be exercised), You suffered him to be apprehended as a thief by the officers of the market-place. For no other reason, I apprehend, did Thou, O our God, suffer it, but that he who was in the future to prove so great a man should now begin to learn that, in judging of causes, man should not with a reckless credulity readily be condemned by man. For as he was walking up and down alone before the judgment-seat with his tablets and pen, lo, a young man, one of the scholars, the real thief, privily bringing a hatchet, got in without Alypius' seeing him as far as the leaden bars which protect the silversmiths' shops, and began to cut away the lead. But the noise of the hatchet being heard, the silversmiths below began to make a stir, and sent to take in custody whomsoever they should find. But the thief, hearing their voices, ran away, leaving his hatchet, fearing to be taken with it. Now Alypius, who had not seen him come in, caught sight of him as he went out, and noted with what speed he made off. And, being curious to know the reasons, he entered the place, where, finding the hatchet, he stood wondering and pondering, when behold, those that were sent caught him alone, hatchet in hand, the noise whereof had startled them and brought them there. They lay hold of him and drag him away, and, gathering the tenants of the market-place about them, boast of having taken a notorious thief, and thereupon he was being led away to apppear before the judge.

But this was how he was to be taught. For immediately, O Lord, You came to help his innocence, of which You alone were witness. For as he was being led either to prison or to punishment, they were met by a certain architect who had chief responsibility for the public buildings. The men were especially glad to run into him, since he usually suspected them of stealing the goods that went missing from the marketplace—as if now he would finally learn who was actually committing these thefts. However, this architect had seen Alypius at various times at the house of a certain senator, whom Alypius regularly visited to pay his respects. Recognizing him at once, the architect took him aside by the hand and asked him the reason for such great misfortune, heard the whole story, and ordered all the noisy and threatening crowd that was present to come with him. They came to the house of the young man who had actually committed the deed. There, in front of the door, was a boy so young that he could not keep himself from revealing everything out of fear of harming his master, for he had followed his master to the marketplace. As soon as Alypius recognized him, he pointed him out to the architect. The architect showed the hatchet to the boy and asked whose it was. Ours, he said immediately. When questioned further, he disclosed everything. Thus, with the crime now traced back to that house and the rabble put to shame—the same rabble that had begun to gloat over Alypius—he, the future dispenser of Your word and examiner of numerous cases in Your Church, went away better experienced and instructed.

15. But thus far was he to be instructed. For immediately, O Lord, You came to the succour of his innocency, whereof You were the sole witness. For, as he was being led either to prison or to punishment, they were met by a certain architect, who had the chief charge of the public buildings. They were specially glad to come across him, by whom they used to be suspected of stealing the goods lost out of the market-place, as though at last to convince him by whom these thefts were committed. He, however, had at various times seen Alypius at the house of a certain senator, whom he was wont to visit to pay his respects; and, recognising him at once, he took him aside by the hand, and inquiring of him the cause of so great a misfortune, heard the whole affair, and commanded all the rabble then present (who were very uproarious and full of threatenings) to go with him. And they came to the house of the young man who had committed the deed. There, before the door, was a lad so young as not to refrain from disclosing the whole through the fear of injuring his master. For he had followed his master to the market-place. Whom, so soon as Alypius recognised, he intimated it to the architect; and he, showing the hatchet to the lad, asked him to whom it belonged. To us, quoth he immediately; and on being further interrogated, he disclosed everything. Thus, the crime being transferred to that house, and the rabble shamed, which had begun to triumph over Alypius, he, the future dispenser of Your word, and an examiner of numerous causes in Your Church, went away better experienced and instructed.

I had met him in Rome, and he attached himself to me with a very strong bond and came with me to Milan. He came both to stay with me and to practice some of the law he had studied, more to please his parents than himself. There he had served three times as a legal assessor with an incorruptibility that amazed others, though he was more amazed at those who could value gold above integrity. His character was tested not only by the temptation of greed but also by the pressure of fear. In Rome, he was assessor to the Count of the Italian Treasury. At that time there was a very powerful senator to whom many people owed favors and whom many also feared. This senator wanted to use his usual power to obtain something that was forbidden by law. Alypius opposed him. A bribe was offered, but he rejected it wholeheartedly. Threats were made, but he trampled them underfoot—everyone was astonished at such an unusual character, who neither desired the friendship nor feared the hostility of a man so powerful and so famous for his countless ways of doing good or harm. Even the judge for whom Alypius served as advisor, although he also did not want to grant the request, did not openly refuse it but shifted the matter onto Alypius, claiming that Alypius would not allow him to do it. In truth, if the judge had done it, Alypius would have made a different decision. In one matter related to his studies, he was almost led astray—he could have had books copied for himself at praetorian prices. But after considering what was just, he changed his mind for the better, judging that fairness, which prevented him from doing this, was more valuable than the privilege that would have allowed it. These are small matters, but he who is faithful in the least is also faithful in much. Nor can what comes from the mouth of Your Truth be empty. If you have not been faithful in unrighteous mammon, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful in what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? Being such a person, he stayed close to me at that time and wavered in his decision, as I did, about what course of life to pursue.

16. Him, therefore, had I lighted upon at Rome, and he clung to me by a most strong tie, and accompanied me to Milan, both that he might not leave me, and that he might practise something of the law he had studied, more with a view of pleasing his parents than himself. There had he thrice sat as assessor with an uncorruptness wondered at by others, he rather wondering at those who could prefer gold to integrity. His character was tested, also, not only by the bait of covetousness, but by the spur of fear. At Rome, he was assessor to the Count of the Italian Treasury. There was at that time a most potent senator, to whose favours many were indebted, of whom also many stood in fear. He would fain, by his usual power, have a thing granted him which was forbidden by the laws. This Alypius resisted; a bribe was promised, he scorned it with all his heart; threats were employed, he trampled them under foot — all men being astonished at so rare a spirit, which neither coveted the friendship nor feared the enmity of a man at once so powerful and so greatly famed for his innumerable means of doing good or ill. Even the judge whose councillor Alypius was, although also unwilling that it should be done, yet did not openly refuse it, but put the matter off upon Alypius, alleging that it was he who would not permit him to do it; for verily, had the judge done it, Alypius would have decided otherwise. With this one thing in the way of learning was he very nearly led away — that he might have books copied for him at prætorian prices. But, consulting justice, he changed his mind for the better, esteeming equity, whereby he was hindered, more gainful than the power whereby he was permitted. These are little things, but He that is faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much. Luke 16:10 Nor can that possibly be void which proceeds out of the mouth of Your Truth. If, therefore, you have not been faithful in the unrighteous mammon, who will commit to your trust the true riches? And if you have not been faithful in that which is another man's, who shall give you that which is your own? Luke 16:11-12 He, being such, did at that time cling to me, and wavered in purpose, as I did, what course of life was to be taken.

Nebridius had also left his homeland near Carthage, and Carthage itself where he normally lived, leaving behind his beautiful family estate, his house, and his mother who did not plan to follow him. He had come to Milan for only one reason: to live with me in an intense search for truth and wisdom. Like me he longed deeply, like me he was uncertain, a passionate seeker of true life and a very sharp investigator of the most difficult questions. So there were three hungry mouths, expressing their needs to one another and waiting on You to give them their food at the right time. And in all the bitterness that followed our worldly activities through Your mercy, as we thought about the purpose—why we should suffer these things—darkness came over us, and we turned away groaning and crying out, "How long will these things continue?" We said this often, and yet we did not give up our worldly pursuits, because we had not yet discovered anything certain that we could turn to instead when we abandoned them.

17. Nebridius also, who had left his native country near Carthage, and Carthage itself, where he had usually lived, leaving behind his fine paternal estate, his house, and his mother, who intended not to follow him, had come to Milan, for no other reason than that he might live with me in a most ardent search after truth and wisdom. Like me he sighed, like me he wavered, an ardent seeker after true life, and a most acute examiner of the most abstruse questions. So were there three begging mouths, sighing out their wants one to the other, and waiting upon You, that You might give them their meat in due season. And in all the bitterness which by Your mercy followed our worldly pursuits, as we contemplated the end, why this suffering should be ours, darkness came upon us; and we turned away groaning and exclaiming, How long shall these things be? And this we often said; and saying so, we did not relinquish them, for as yet we had discovered nothing certain to which, when relinquished, we might betake ourselves.

As I thought over and examined all these things, I was most amazed at how much time had passed since my nineteenth year, when I first began to burn with desire for wisdom, resolving that once I found her, I would abandon all the empty hopes and lying madness of vain desires. And now I was approaching my thirtieth year, still stuck in the same mud, eager to enjoy present things that slip away and destroy me, while I kept saying, "Tomorrow I will discover it; it will appear clearly, and I will grasp it; Faustus will come and explain everything!" O you great men, you Academicians, is it really true that nothing certain can be found for ordering one's life! No, let us search more carefully and not give up. Look, the things in the church's books that seemed absurd to us before don't seem so now, and can be interpreted differently and honestly. I will plant my feet on that step where my parents placed me as a child, until the clear truth is discovered. But where and when should it be sought? Ambrose has no free time—we have no free time to read. Where can we find the books? How or when can we get them? From whom can we borrow them? Let specific times be set, and certain hours be devoted to the health of the soul. Great hope has risen in us, the Catholic faith does not teach what we imagined and falsely accused it of teaching. Its learned teachers consider it an abomination to believe that God is limited by the form of a human body. And should we hesitate to knock, so that the rest may be opened? The mornings are taken up by our students; how do we use the rest of the day? Why don't we pursue this? But when, then, do we pay our respects to our important friends, whose favors we need? When do we prepare what our students purchase from us? When do we refresh ourselves, relaxing our minds from the strain of worry?

18. And I, puzzling over and reviewing these things, most marvelled at the length of time from that my nineteenth year, wherein I began to be inflamed with the desire of wisdom, resolving, when I had found her, to forsake all the empty hopes and lying insanities of vain desires. And behold, I was now getting on to my thirtieth year, sticking in the same mire, eager for the enjoyment of things present, which fly away and destroy me, while I say, Tomorrow I shall discover it; behold, it will appear plainly, and I shall seize it; behold, Faustus will come and explain everything! O you great men, you Academicians, it is then true that nothing certain for the ordering of life can be attained! Nay, let us search the more diligently, and let us not despair. Lo, the things in the ecclesiastical books, which appeared to us absurd aforetime, do not appear so now, and may be otherwise and honestly interpreted. I will set my feet upon that step, where, as a child, my parents placed me, until the clear truth be discovered. But where and when shall it be sought? Ambrose has no leisure — we have no leisure to read. Where are we to find the books? Whence or when procure them? From whom borrow them? Let set times be appointed, and certain hours be set apart for the health of the soul. Great hope has risen upon us, the Catholic faith does not teach what we conceived, and vainly accused it of. Her learned ones hold it as an abomination to believe that God is limited by the form of a human body. And do we doubt to 'knock,' in order that the rest may be 'opened'? Matthew 7:7 The mornings are taken up by our scholars; how do we employ the rest of the day? Why do we not set about this? But when, then, pay our respects to our great friends, of whose favours we stand in need? When prepare what our scholars buy from us? When recreate ourselves, relaxing our minds from the pressure of care?

Let everything else perish, and let us put aside these empty vanities and devote ourselves entirely to the search for truth! Life is miserable, death uncertain. If death comes upon us suddenly, in what state will we leave this world, and where will we learn what we have neglected here? Or rather, won't we suffer punishment for this negligence? What if death itself cuts off and ends all consciousness and feeling? This too must be investigated. But God forbid that it should be so. It is not without reason, it is not an empty thing, that the towering authority of the Christian faith has spread throughout the entire world. Such great things would never be done for us if the life of the soul were destroyed by the death of the body. Why, then, do we delay abandoning our worldly hopes and giving ourselves completely to seeking God and the blessed life? But wait! Even those worldly things are enjoyable, and they have considerable sweetness. We shouldn't give them up lightly, since it would be shameful to return to them later. Look, it's no small matter to obtain an honorable position! And what more could we want? We have many influential friends, even if we have nothing else, and if we act quickly a governorship might be offered to us, and a wife with some money so she doesn't add to our expenses—and this would be the height of our ambition. Many men who are great and worthy of imitation have devoted themselves to the study of wisdom while married.

19. Perish everything, and let us dismiss these empty vanities, and betake ourselves solely to the search after truth! Life is miserable, death uncertain. If it creeps upon us suddenly, in what state shall we depart hence, and where shall we learn what we have neglected here? Or rather shall we not suffer the punishment of this negligence? What if death itself should cut off and put an end to all care and feeling? This also, then, must be inquired into. But God forbid that it should be so. It is not without reason, it is no empty thing, that the so eminent height of the authority of the Christian faith is diffused throughout the entire world. Never would such and so great things be wrought for us, if, by the death of the body, the life of the soul were destroyed. Why, therefore, do we delay to abandon our hopes of this world, and give ourselves wholly to seek after God and the blessed life? But stay! Even those things are enjoyable; and they possess some and no little sweetness. We must not abandon them lightly, for it would be a shame to return to them again. Behold, now is it a great matter to obtain some post of honour! And what more could we desire? We have crowds of influential friends, though we have nothing else, and if we make haste a presidentship may be offered us; and a wife with some money, that she increase not our expenses; and this shall be the height of desire. Many men, who are great and worthy of imitation, have applied themselves to the study of wisdom in the marriage state.

While I spoke of these things, and these winds blew and drove my heart back and forth, time passed on. But I was slow to turn to the Lord, and day after day I delayed living in You, yet I did not delay dying to myself each day. Though I loved the idea of a happy life, I feared it in its true dwelling place, and while running from it, I sought after it. I thought I would be too miserable if I were deprived of a woman's embraces, and I did not think about Your merciful medicine to heal that weakness, never having tried it. As for continence, I imagined it was under the power of our own strength (though I did not find it in myself), being foolish enough not to know what is written—that no one can be continent unless You give it—and that You would give it if with heartfelt groaning I should knock at Your ears and with firm faith cast my burden upon You.

20. Whilst I talked of these things, and these winds veered about and tossed my heart hither and there, the time passed on; but I was slow to turn to the Lord, and from day to day deferred to live in You, and deferred not daily to die in myself. Being enamoured of a happy life, I yet feared it in its own abode, and, fleeing from it, sought after it. I conceived that I should be too unhappy were I deprived of the embracements of a woman; and of Your merciful medicine to cure that infirmity I thought not, not having tried it. As regards continency, I imagined it to be under the control of our own strength (though in myself I found it not), being so foolish as not to know what is written, that none can be continent unless Thou give it; and that You would give it, if with heartfelt groaning I should knock at Your ears, and should with firm faith cast my care upon You.

It was actually Alypius who kept me from getting married, arguing that if I did, we would never be able to live together and enjoy the uninterrupted free time for the love of wisdom that we had long wanted. He himself was remarkably chaste in this area—especially considering that in his early youth he had tried sex but hadn't continued with it. Instead, feeling regret and revulsion afterward, he had lived completely abstinent from that time until now. But I countered him with examples of married men who had loved wisdom, pleased God, and maintained faithful and loving friendships. I fell far short of their greatness of spirit, and being enslaved by my bodily lust and its fatal pleasure, I dragged my chain along, afraid to be set free. As if his words were touching a wound, I rejected his well-meaning warnings as though they were the hand of someone trying to remove my chains. What's more, the serpent spoke through me to Alypius himself, using my tongue to weave and place pleasant traps in his path that might entangle his honorable and free feet.

21. It was in truth Alypius who prevented me from marrying, alleging that thus we could by no means live together, having so much undistracted leisure in the love of wisdom, as we had long desired. For he himself was so chaste in this matter that it was wonderful — all the more, too, that in his early youth he had entered upon that path, but had not clung to it; rather had he, feeling sorrow and disgust at it, lived from that time to the present most continently. But I opposed him with the examples of those who as married men had loved wisdom, found favour with God, and walked faithfully and lovingly with their friends. From the greatness of whose spirit I fell far short, and, enthralled with the disease of the flesh and its deadly sweetness, dragged my chain along, fearing to be loosed; and, as if it pressed my wound, rejected his kind expostulations, as it were the hand of one who would unchain me. Moreover, it was by me that the serpent spoke unto Alypius himself, weaving and laying in his path, by my tongue, pleasant snares, wherein his honourable and free feet might be entangled.

When Alypius wondered why I, whom he greatly respected, was so trapped in the sticky snare of that pleasure that I insisted whenever we discussed it that living a celibate life would be impossible for me, and when I defended myself by pointing out that there was a huge difference between his own brief, furtive experiences (which he now barely remembered and could therefore easily dismiss without regret) and my long-standing involvement with it—to which only the honorable name of marriage needed to be added—he stopped being surprised at my inability to reject that way of life. Then he too began to want to get married, not because he was overcome by desire for such pleasure, but out of curiosity. He said he wanted to know what this thing could be, without which my life—which seemed so good to him—appeared to me not to be life at all but a punishment. His mind, free from that chain, was amazed at my slavery, and through that amazement he began to desire to try it himself, and from that desire to actually try it, and from there he might have fallen into the very bondage that amazed him so much, since he was ready to enter into a covenant with death, and he that loves danger shall fall into it. Whatever honor there is in marriage regarding the proper ordering of married life and raising children influenced us very little. What mostly tormented me, already enslaved to it, was the habit of satisfying an insatiable lust; him, about to be enslaved, an admiring curiosity was drawing on. This is where we were, until You, O Most High, not abandoning our lowliness, taking pity on our misery, came to our rescue by wonderful and secret ways.

22. For when he wondered that I, for whom he had no slight esteem, stuck so fast in the bird-lime of that pleasure as to affirm whenever we discussed the matter that it would be impossible for me to lead a single life, and urged in my defense when I saw him wonder that there was a vast difference between the life that he had tried by stealth and snatches (of which he had now but a faint recollection, and might therefore, without regret, easily despise), and my sustained acquaintance with it, whereto if but the honourable name of marriage were added, he would not then be astonished at my inability to contemn that course — then began he also to wish to be married, not as if overpowered by the lust of such pleasure, but from curiosity. For, as he said, he was anxious to know what that could be without which my life, which was so pleasing to him, seemed to me not life but a penalty. For his mind, free from that chain, was astounded at my slavery, and through that astonishment was going on to a desire of trying it, and from it to the trial itself, and thence, perchance, to fall into that bondage whereat he was so astonished, seeing he was ready to enter into a covenant with death; Isaiah 28:15 and he that loves danger shall fall into it. Sirach 3:27 For whatever the conjugal honour be in the office of well-ordering a married life, and sustaining children, influenced us but slightly. But that which did for the most part afflict me, already made a slave to it, was the habit of satisfying an insatiable lust; him about to be enslaved did an admiring wonder draw on. In this state were we, until Thou, O most High, not forsaking our lowliness, commiserating our misery, came to our rescue by wonderful and secret ways.

Active efforts were made to get me a wife. I courted a woman and became engaged, with my mother working very hard on this matter. She hoped that once I was married, the health-giving baptism might cleanse me. She was happy to see that I was becoming ready for this day by day, and she noted that her prayers and Your promises were being fulfilled in my faith. At that time, both at my request and from her own longing, we begged You daily with strong cries from the heart that You would reveal to her through a vision something about my future marriage, but You would not. She did see certain empty and imaginary things—the kind that the intensity of a human mind focused on something can produce—and she told me about these, but not with the usual confidence she had when You had shown her something. Instead, she dismissed them. She said she could tell the difference between Your revelations and the dreams of her own spirit through a certain sense that she could not put into words. Still, the marriage plans continued to move forward, and a girl was chosen who was two years younger than the legal age for marriage. Since she was pleasing, we waited for her.

23. Active efforts were made to get me a wife. I wooed, I was engaged, my mother taking the greatest pains in the matter, that when I was once married, the health-giving baptism might cleanse me; for which she rejoiced that I was being daily fitted, remarking that her desires and Your promises were being fulfilled in my faith. At which time, verily, both at my request and her own desire, with strong heartfelt cries did we daily beg of You that You would by a vision disclose unto her something concerning my future marriage; but You would not. She saw indeed certain vain and fantastic things, such as the earnestness of a human spirit, bent thereon, conjured up; and these she told me of, not with her usual confidence when You had shown her anything, but slighting them. For she could, she declared, through some feeling which she could not express in words, discern the difference between Your revelations and the dreams of her own spirit. Yet the affair was pressed on, and a maiden sued who wanted two years of the marriageable age; and, as she was pleasing, she was waited for.

Many of us friends, after discussing together how much we hated the chaotic troubles of human life, had thought about and nearly decided to live peacefully, away from the noise and activity of society. This is how we planned to do it: each of us would contribute whatever we could acquire, and we would create a shared household where, because of our genuine friendship, nothing would belong more to one person than another. Instead, everything we brought together would belong to each person individually and to all of us collectively. We thought this community could include about ten people, some of whom were very wealthy, especially Romanianus, a fellow citizen and close friend of mine since childhood. Serious business matters had brought him to court at that time, and he was the most enthusiastic among us about this plan. His support carried great influence in recommending it because his wealth was far greater than everyone else's. We had also arranged that two members would be chosen each year to handle providing all necessary supplies, leaving the others free from these concerns. But when we started considering whether the wives that some of us already had, and others hoped to have, would allow this arrangement, our entire plan, which had been taking shape so well, fell apart in our hands and was completely destroyed and abandoned. After that, we returned to sighing and grieving, and followed the broad and well-traveled paths of the world. For many thoughts were in our hearts, but Your counsel stands forever. Out of that counsel, You laughed at ours and prepared Your own, intending to give us food at the right time, to open Your hand, and to fill our souls with blessing.

24. And many of us friends, consulting on and abhorring the turbulent vexations of human life, had considered and now almost determined upon living at ease and separate from the turmoil of men. And this was to be obtained in this way; we were to bring whatever we could severally procure, and make a common household, so that, through the sincerity of our friendship, nothing should belong more to one than the other; but the whole, being derived from all, should as a whole belong to each, and the whole unto all. It seemed to us that this society might consist of ten persons, some of whom were very rich, especially Romanianus, our townsman, an intimate friend of mine from his childhood, whom grave business matters had then brought up to Court; who was the most earnest of us all for this project, and whose voice was of great weight in commending it, because his estate was far more ample than that of the rest. We had arranged, too, that two officers should be chosen yearly, for the providing of all necessary things, while the rest were left undisturbed. But when we began to reflect whether the wives which some of us had already, and others hoped to have, would permit this, all that plan, which was being so well framed, broke to pieces in our hands, and was utterly wrecked and cast aside. Thence we fell again to sighs and groans, and our steps to follow the broad and beaten ways Matthew 7:13 of the world; for many thoughts were in our heart, but Your counsel stands forever. Out of which counsel You mocked ours, and prepared Your own, purposing to give us meat in due season, and to open Your hand, and to fill our souls with blessing.

Meanwhile my sins were multiplying. My mistress was torn from my side because she was an obstacle to my marriage, and my heart, which was attached to her, was torn apart, wounded, and bleeding. She returned to Africa, making a vow to You never to be with another man, leaving with me the son I had fathered with her. But I, wretched man, could not imitate a woman's resolve. Impatient with the delay, since I would not obtain the woman I sought for two years, and being not so much a lover of marriage as a slave to lust, I took another woman (though not as a wife). In this way, through the bondage of a continuing habit, the disease of my soul might be fed and maintained in its strength, or even increased, all the way into the state of marriage. Nor was my wound from separating from my former mistress healed yet. After the initial inflammation and most severe pain, it became infected, and the pain grew numb but more hopeless.

25. Meanwhile my sins were being multiplied, and my mistress being torn from my side as an impediment to my marriage, my heart, which clave to her, was racked, and wounded, and bleeding. And she went back to Africa, making a vow unto You never to know another man, leaving with me my natural son by her. But I, unhappy one, who could not imitate a woman, impatient of delay, since it was not until two years' time I was to obtain her I sought — being not so much a lover of marriage as a slave to lust — procured another (not a wife, though), that so by the bondage of a lasting habit the disease of my soul might be nursed up, and kept up in its vigour, or even increased, into the kingdom of marriage. Nor was that wound of mine as yet cured which had been caused by the separation from my former mistress, but after inflammation and most acute anguish it mortified, and the pain became numbed, but more desperate.

Praise to You, glory to You, O Fountain of mercies! I became more wretched, and You drew nearer. Your right hand was always ready to pull me out of the mud and to wash me clean, but I did not know it. Nothing called me back from an even deeper pit of bodily pleasures except the fear of death and of Your coming judgment, which never left my heart despite all my changing opinions. When I debated with my friends, Alypius and Nebridius, about the nature of good and evil, I believed that Epicurus had won the argument, except that I believed something Epicurus did not: that after death the soul continues to live and there are places of reward or punishment. I asked, If we are immortal and live in continual bodily pleasure forever, without any fear of losing it, why would we not be happy, or why would we need to look for anything else? I did not realize that this very question was part of my great misery, that being so sunken and blinded, I could not see that light of honor and beauty that should be embraced for its own sake, which the eye of the flesh cannot see because it is visible only to the inner person. Miserable as I was, I did not consider what source it came from, that I enjoyed discussing even these disgusting things with my friends. And I could not make myself happy, even by my own standards of happiness at that time, without friends, no matter how much bodily pleasure I had. I truly loved these friends for their own sake, and I knew they loved me for my own sake in return. O twisted paths! Woe to the reckless soul that hoped to find something better by abandoning You! It turned and turned again, on back, sides, and belly, and everything was hard, and You alone are rest. And look, You are near, and You rescue us from our miserable wandering, and You set us on Your path, and You comfort us, and say, Run; I will carry you, yes, I will lead you, and there I will carry you as well.

26. Unto You be praise, unto You be glory, O Fountain of mercies! I became more wretched, and Thou nearer. Your right hand was ever ready to pluck me out of the mire, and to cleanse me, but I was ignorant of it. Nor did anything recall me from a yet deeper abyss of carnal pleasures, but the fear of death and of Your future judgment, which, amid all my fluctuations of opinion, never left my breast. And in disputing with my friends, Alypius and Nebridius, concerning the nature of good and evil, I held that Epicurus had, in my judgment, won the palm, had I not believed that after death there remained a life for the soul, and places of recompense, which Epicurus would not believe. And I demanded, Supposing us to be immortal, and to be living in the enjoyment of perpetual bodily pleasure, and that without any fear of losing it, why, then, should we not be happy, or why should we search for anything else? — not knowing that even this very thing was a part of my great misery, that, being thus sunk and blinded, I could not discern that light of honour and beauty to be embraced for its own sake, which cannot be seen by the eye of the flesh, it being visible only to the inner man. Nor did I, unhappy one, consider out of what vein it emanated, that even these things, loathsome as they were, I with pleasure discussed with my friends. Nor could I, even in accordance with my then notions of happiness, make myself happy without friends, amid no matter how great abundance of carnal pleasures. And these friends assuredly I loved for their own sakes, and I knew myself to be loved of them again for my own sake. O crooked ways! Woe to the audacious soul which hoped that, if it forsook You, it would find some better thing! It has turned and returned, on hack, sides, and belly, and all was hard, and Thou alone rest. And behold, You are near, and deliver us from our wretched wanderings, and establish us in Your way, and comfort us, and say, Run; I will carry you, yes, I will lead you, and there also will I carry you.

Accept the sacrifice of my confessions through my tongue, which You have formed and given life, so that it may confess to Your name. Heal all my bones, and let them say, Lord, who is like You? For the person who confesses to You does not teach You what is happening within him, because a closed heart does not shut out Your eye, nor does human hardness of heart push away Your hand. Instead, You dissolve it when You choose, either in mercy or in judgment, and no one can hide himself from Your heart. But let my soul praise You, so that it may love You, and let it confess Your mercies to You, so that it may praise You. Your whole creation does not stop or fall silent in praising You—neither the human spirit, through words directed to You, nor animals or physical things, through the words of those who reflect on them. In this way our souls may rise from their weariness toward You, leaning on those things which You have made and moving on to You, who have made them wonderfully, and there is refreshment and true strength.

1. Accept the sacrifice of my confessions by the agency of my tongue, which You have formed and quickened, that it may confess to Your name; and heal Thou all my bones, and let them say, Lord, who is like You? For neither does he who confesses to You teach You what may be passing within him, because a closed heart does not exclude Your eye, nor does man's hardness of heart repulse Your hand, but You dissolve it when You will, either in pity or in vengeance, and there is no One who can hide himself from Your heart. But let my soul praise You, that it may love You; and let it confess Your own mercies to You, that it may praise You. Your whole creation ceases not, nor is it silent in Your praises — neither the spirit of man, by the voice directed unto You, nor animal nor corporeal things, by the voice of those meditating thereon; so that our souls may from their weariness arise towards You, leaning on those things which You have made, and passing on to You, who hast made them wonderfully and there is there refreshment and true strength.

Let the restless and unjust depart and flee from You. You still see them and can distinguish them even in the shadows. Look! Everything around them is beautiful, yet they themselves are corrupt. How have they harmed You? How have they brought disgrace to Your government, which is just and perfect from heaven down to the lowest parts of the earth? Where did they flee when they ran from Your presence? Is there anywhere You cannot find them? They fled so they would not see You seeing them, and in their blindness they stumbled against You. You abandon nothing You have made, so the unjust stumble against You and are justly hurt. They withdraw from Your gentleness, stumble against Your righteousness, and fall upon their own harshness. They do not know that You are everywhere, that no place can contain You, and that You alone remain close even to those who distance themselves from You. Let them turn back and seek You, because You have not abandoned Your creature as they have abandoned their Creator. Let them turn back and seek You, and there You are in their hearts—in the hearts of those who confess to You, throw themselves upon You, and weep on Your chest after their stubborn ways. You gently wipe away their tears, and they weep even more and find joy in weeping, because You, Lord—not a human being of flesh and blood, but You, Lord, who made them—remake and comfort them. Where was I when I was searching for You? You were right in front of me, but I had gone away even from myself. I could not find myself, much less You.

2. Let the restless and the unjust depart and flee from You. You both see them and distinguish the shadows. And lo! All things with them are fair, yet they themselves are foul. And how have they injured You? Or in what have they disgraced Your government, which is just and perfect from heaven even to the lowest parts of the earth. For whither fled they when they fled from Your presence? Or where do You not find them? But they fled that they might not see You seeing them, and blinded might stumble against You; Genesis 16:13-14 since You forsake nothing that You have made — that the unjust might stumble against You, and justly be hurt, withdrawing themselves from Your gentleness, and stumbling against Your uprightness, and falling upon their own roughness. Forsooth, they know not that You are everywhere whom no place encompasses, and that You alone are near even to those that remove far from You. Let them, then, be converted and seek You; because not as they have forsaken their Creator have You forsaken Your creature. Let them be converted and seek You; and behold, You are there in their hearts, in the hearts of those who confess to You, and cast themselves upon You, and weep on Your bosom after their obdurate ways, even Thou gently wiping away their tears. And they weep the more, and rejoice in weeping, since Thou, O Lord, not man, flesh and blood, but Thou, Lord, who made, remakest and comfortest them. And where was I when I was seeking You? And You were before me, but I had gone away even from myself; nor did I find myself, much less You!

Let me lay open before my God that twenty-ninth year of my life. At this time there had come to Carthage a certain bishop of the Manichæans named Faustus, a great trap of the devil, and many were caught by him through the appeal of his smooth way of speaking. Though I praised his eloquence, I could still separate it from the truth of the things I was eager to learn. I did not value the attractive display of his rhetoric as much as the actual knowledge that this highly praised Faustus set before me to consume. His reputation had reached me beforehand as someone highly skilled in all respectable learning and especially skilled in the liberal arts. Because I had read and memorized many teachings of the philosophers, I used to compare some of their doctrines with those long myths of the Manichæans. The philosophers' teachings, which could only go so far as to understand this lower world while they could by no means discover its Lord, seemed to me more likely to be true. For You are great, O Lord, and You pay attention to the humble, but You know the proud from far away. You do not draw near except to the broken heart, and You are not found by the proud—not even if they could count by clever skill the stars and the sand, measure the heavenly regions, and chart the paths of the planets.

3. Let me lay bare before my God that twenty-ninth year of my age. There had at this time come to Carthage a certain bishop of the Manichæans, by name Faustus, a great snare of the devil, and in any were entangled by him through the allurement of his smooth speech; the which, although I did commend, yet could I separate from the truth of those things which I was eager to learn. Nor did I esteem the small dish of oratory so much as the science, which this their so praised Faustus placed before me to feed upon. Fame, indeed, had before spoken of him to me, as most skilled in all becoming learning, and pre-eminently skilled in the liberal sciences. And as I had read and retained in memory many injunctions of the philosophers, I used to compare some teachings of theirs with those long fables of the Manichæans and the former things which they declared, who could only prevail so far as to estimate this lower world, while its lord they could by no means find out, Wisdom 13:9 seemed to me the more probable. For You are great, O Lord, and hast respect unto the lowly, but the proud You know afar off. Nor do You draw near but to the contrite heart, nor are You found by the proud, — not even could they number by cunning skill the stars and the sand, and measure the starry regions, and trace the courses of the planets.

Using the understanding and ability that You have given them, they investigate these things. They have discovered much and have accurately predicted many years in advance the eclipses of the sun and moon—on what day, at what hour, and to what degree they would occur. Their calculations have not failed them, and events happened just as they predicted. They recorded the principles they discovered, which are still read today. From these, others predict in what year, what month, what day, what hour, and to what extent the moon or sun will be eclipsed, and it happens just as foretold. People who don't understand these things are filled with wonder and amazement, while those who do understand them take pride and exalt themselves. Through impious pride, they depart from You and abandon Your light. They can predict a solar eclipse long in advance, but they cannot see their own present darkness. They do not seek in a religious spirit to understand where they got the ability to investigate these things. When they discover that You made them, they do not give themselves to You so that You may preserve what You have made. Nor do they sacrifice to You what they have made themselves to be. They do not put to death their own pride, like the birds of the air, nor their own curiosities, through which (like the fish of the sea) they wander the unknown paths of the deep, nor their own extravagance, like the beasts of the field, so that You, Lord, a consuming fire, might burn up their dead concerns and renew them for immortality.

4. For with their understanding and the capacity which You have bestowed upon them they search out these things; and much have they found out, and foretold many years before — the eclipses of those luminaries, the sun and moon, on what day, at what hour, and from how many particular points they were likely to come. Nor did their calculation fail them; and it came to pass even as they foretold. And they wrote down the rules found out, which are read at this day; and from these others foretell in what year and in what month of the year, and on what day of the month, and at what hour of the day, and at what quarter of its light, either moon or sun is to be eclipsed, and thus it shall be even as it is foretold. And men who are ignorant of these things marvel and are amazed, and they that know them exult and are exalted; and by an impious pride, departing from You, and forsaking Your light, they foretell a failure of the sun's light which is likely to occur so long before, but see not their own, which is now present. For they seek not religiously whence they have the ability where-with they seek out these things. And finding that You have made them, they give not themselves up to You, that You may preserve what You have made, nor sacrifice themselves to You, even such as they have made themselves to be; nor do they slay their own pride, as fowls of the air, nor their own curiosities, by which (like the fishes of the sea) they wander over the unknown paths of the abyss, nor their own extravagance, as the beasts of the field, that Thou, Lord, a consuming fire, Deuteronomy 4:24 may burn up their lifeless cares and renew them immortally.

But they did not know the way—Your Word, by whom You made these things that they count, and the people who do the counting, and the sense by which they perceive what they count, and the understanding from which they count. They did not know that of Your wisdom there is no number. But the Only-begotten has been made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and has been numbered among us, and paid tribute to Caesar. They did not know this way by which they might descend from themselves to Him, nor that through Him they might ascend to Him. They did not know this way, and they think themselves lifted up with the stars and shining, but look—they fell to the earth, and their foolish heart was darkened. They say many true things about the creation, but they do not seek with devotion the Truth who is the Maker of creation, and therefore they do not find Him. Or if they do find Him, knowing that He is God, they do not glorify Him as God, neither are they thankful, but become empty in their reasoning, and claim that they themselves are wise, attributing to themselves what is Yours. And by this, with deeply twisted blindness, they want to blame You for what is their own, inventing lies against You who are the Truth, and exchanging the glory of the incorruptible God for an image made like corruptible man, and like birds, and four-footed animals, and creeping things—exchanging Your truth for a lie, and worshiping and serving the creature rather than the Creator.

5. But the way — Your Word, John 1:3 by whom Thou made these things which they number, and themselves who number, and the sense by which they perceive what they number, and the judgment out of which they number — they knew not, and that of Your wisdom there is no number. But the Only-begotten has been made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, 1 Corinthians 1:30 and has been numbered among us, and paid tribute to Cæsar. Matthew 17:27 This way, by which they might descend to Him from themselves, they knew not; nor that through Him they might ascend unto Him. This way they knew not, and they think themselves exalted with the stars Isaiah 14:13 and shining, and lo! They fell upon the earth, Revelation 12:4 and their foolish heart was darkened. Romans 1:21 They say many true things concerning the creature; but Truth, the Artificer of the creature, they seek not with devotion, and hence they find Him not. Or if they find Him, knowing that He is God, they glorify Him not as God, neither are they thankful, Romans 1:21 but become vain in their imaginations, and say that they themselves are wise, Romans 1:22 attributing to themselves what is Yours; and by this, with most perverse blindness, they desire to impute to You what is their own, forging lies against You who art the Truth, and changing the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things, Romans 1:23 — changing Your truth into a lie, and worshipping and serving the creature more than the Creator. Romans 1:25

I retained many truths about the created world from these men, and the explanations became clear to me through mathematical calculations, the sequence of the seasons, and the visible evidence of the stars. I compared these with the writings of Mani, who in his madness wrote very extensively on these subjects, but I found no proper explanation of the solstices, the equinoxes, the eclipses of the heavenly bodies, or anything of the sort that I had learned in books of secular philosophy. Yet in his writings I was commanded to believe, even though what he said did not match the principles confirmed by calculation and my own observation, but was completely different.

6. Many truths, however, concerning the creature did I retain from these men, and the cause appeared to me from calculations, the succession of seasons, and the visible manifestations of the stars; and I compared them with the sayings of Manichæus, who in his frenzy has written most extensively on these subjects, but discovered not any account either of the solstices, or the equinoxes, the eclipses of the luminaries, or anything of the kind I had learned in the books of secular philosophy. But therein I was ordered to believe, and yet it corresponded not with those rules acknowledged by calculation and my own sight, but was far different.

Lord God of truth, does knowing those things make someone pleasing to You? A person who knows all those things but does not know You is unhappy. But a person who knows You is happy, even if he does not know those things. Someone who knows both You and those things is not happier because of them, but is happy because of You alone—if, knowing You, he glorifies You as God, gives thanks, and does not become vain in his thoughts. In the same way, a person who knows how to possess a tree and gives You thanks for its use is happier than someone who measures its height in cubits and counts all its branches but does not own it, know its Creator, or love Him—even though the latter knows more about the tree. Similarly, a just man to whom the entire world of wealth belongs, and who, though having nothing, possesses all things by clinging to You (to whom all things are subject)—even if he does not know the circles of the Great Bear—is surely better than someone who can measure the heavens, number the stars, and weigh the elements, yet forgets You, who have arranged all things in number, weight, and measure. It would be foolish to doubt this.

7. Does, then, O Lord God of truth, whosoever knows those things therefore please You? For unhappy is the man who knows all those things, but knows You not; but happy is he who knows You, though these he may not know. But he who knows both You and them is not the happier on account of them, but is happy on account of You only, if knowing You he glorify You as God, and gives thanks, and becomes not vain in his thoughts. Romans 1:21 But as he is happier who knows how to possess a tree, and for the use thereof renders thanks to You, although he may not know how many cubits high it is, or how wide it spreads, than he that measures it and counts all its branches, and neither owns it nor knows or loves its Creator; so a just man, whose is the entire world of wealth, and who, as having nothing, yet possesses all things 2 Corinthians 6:10 by cleaving unto You, to whom all things are subservient, though he know not even the circles of the Great Bear, yet it is foolish to doubt but that he may verily be better than he who can measure the heavens, and number the stars, and weigh the elements, but is forgetful of You, who hast set in order all things in number, weight, and measure. Wisdom 11:20

But who told Manichaeus to write about these subjects as well, when skill in them was not necessary for godliness? For You have told humanity to behold piety and wisdom, which a person might lack even while having complete knowledge of these other matters. But since he did not know these things, yet still most shamelessly dared to teach them, it is clear that he was not acquainted with piety. For even when we do know these worldly subjects, it is foolish to make a show of them, but confessing You is piety. Therefore this wandering man spoke much about these matters with the intent that, when exposed by those who had truly learned them, the understanding he really had in those more difficult subjects might be revealed. For he did not want to be regarded as insignificant, but went about trying to persuade people that the Holy Spirit, the Comforter and Enricher of Your faithful ones, personally dwelt in him with full authority. When it was discovered, therefore, that his teaching about the heavens and stars and the movements of the sun and moon was false, even though these things do not belong to the doctrine of religion, his sacrilegious arrogance became sufficiently obvious, since he not only affirmed things he did not know, but also twisted them, and with such extreme vanity and pride sought to claim them for himself as if he were a divine being.

8. But yet who was it that ordered Manichæus to write on these things likewise, skill in which was not necessary to piety? For You have told man to behold piety and wisdom, of which he might be in ignorance although having a complete knowledge of these other things; but since, knowing not these things, he yet most impudently dared to teach them, it is clear that he had no acquaintance with piety. For even when we have a knowledge of these worldly matters, it is folly to make a profession of them; but confession to You is piety. It was therefore with this view that this straying one spoke much of these matters, that, standing convicted by those who had in truth learned them, the understanding that he really had in those more difficult things might be made plain. For he wished not to be lightly esteemed, but went about trying to persuade men that the Holy Ghost, the Comforter and Enricher of Your faithful ones, was with full authority personally resident in him. When, therefore, it was discovered that his teaching concerning the heavens and stars, and the motions of sun and moon, was false, though these things do not relate to the doctrine of religion, yet his sacrilegious arrogance would become sufficiently evident, seeing that not only did he affirm things of which he knew nothing, but also perverted them, and with such egregious vanity of pride as to seek to attribute them to himself as to a divine being.

When I hear a Christian brother who is ignorant about these matters or mistaken about them, I can patiently tolerate that person holding those opinions. I cannot see how any lack of knowledge about the location or nature of this material creation can harm him, as long as he does not believe anything unworthy of You, O Lord, the Creator of all. But if he thinks such knowledge belongs to the essence of religious doctrine, and stubbornly insists with great certainty on things he does not know, that is where the harm lies. Yet even this kind of weakness at the beginning of faith is carried by our Mother Charity, until the new person may grow up into a mature person and not be tossed around by every wind of doctrine. But in someone who presumed to be at the same time the teacher, author, head, and leader of all those he could persuade to believe this—so that everyone who followed him believed they were following not merely a human being, but Your Holy Spirit—who would not judge that such enormous insanity, once convicted of teaching falsehood, ought to be detested and completely rejected? But I had not yet clearly determined whether the variations in the length of days and nights, day and night itself, the eclipses of the sun and moon, and whatever similar things I had read about in other books could be explained in a way consistent with his teachings. Even if I had been able to do so, there would still have been doubt in my mind whether it was true or not, though I might have based my faith on his authority because of his supposed holiness.

9. For when I hear a Christian brother ignorant of these things, or in error concerning them, I can bear with patience to see that man hold to his opinions; nor can I apprehend that any want of knowledge as to the situation or nature of this material creation can be injurious to him, so long as he does not entertain belief in anything unworthy of You, O Lord, the Creator of all. But if he conceives it to pertain to the form of the doctrine of piety, and presumes to affirm with great obstinacy that whereof he is ignorant, therein lies the injury. And yet even a weakness such as this in the dawn of faith is borne by our Mother Charity, till the new man may grow up unto a perfect man, and not be carried about with every wind of doctrine. Ephesians 4:13-14 But in him who thus presumed to be at once the teacher, author, head, and leader of all whom he could induce to believe this, so that all who followed him believed that they were following not a simple man only, but Your Holy Spirit, who would not judge that such great insanity, when once it stood convicted of false teaching, should be abhorred and utterly cast off? But I had not yet clearly ascertained whether the changes of longer and shorter days and nights, and day and night itself, with the eclipses of the greater lights, and whatever of the like kind I had read in other books, could be expounded consistently with his words. Should I have found myself able to do so, there would still have remained a doubt in my mind whether it were so or no, although I might, on the strength of his reputed godliness, rest my faith on his authority.

For nearly all of those nine years when I followed them with a wavering mind, I had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of this same Faustus. Whenever other members of the sect I had encountered couldn't answer my questions, they would tell me to wait for his coming. They promised that when I could talk with him, these problems and even greater ones, if I had them, would be easily and fully resolved. When he finally arrived, I found him to be a man who spoke pleasantly and discussed the very same things the others did, though more fluently and in better language. But what good was it to me that my cup-bearer was elegant, when he didn't offer me the more precious drink I thirsted for? My ears were already filled with similar things, and these ideas didn't seem more convincing to me just because they were better expressed, nor true because they were delivered with fine oratory, nor did a wise spirit necessarily follow from a handsome face and eloquent language. Those who praised him to me were not qualified judges; therefore, because he possessed smooth speech, he seemed to them prudent and wise. However, I was aware that another sort of person distrusts even truth itself when it is presented in polished and flowing language. But You, O my God, had already taught me through wonderful and mysterious ways, and I believe You taught me because it is truth; and there is no other teacher of truth—wherever or however it may shine upon us—but You. From You, therefore, I had now learned that just because something is eloquently expressed, it shouldn't necessarily seem true; nor should it be false just because it's spoken with stammering lips; nor, on the other hand, automatically true because it's delivered skillfully, nor false just because the language is fine. Rather, wisdom and folly are like wholesome and unwholesome food, and refined or simple words are like city-made or country-made dishes—and both kinds of food can be served in either kind of dish.

10. And for nearly the whole of those nine years during which, with unstable mind, I had been their follower, I had been looking forward with but too great eagerness for the arrival of this same Faustus. For the other members of the sect whom I had chanced to light upon, when unable to answer the questions I raised, always bade me look forward to his coming, when, by discoursing with him, these, and greater difficulties if I had them, would be most easily and amply cleared away. When at last he did come, I found him to be a man of pleasant speech, who spoke of the very same things as they themselves did, although more fluently, and in better language. But of what profit to me was the elegance of my cup-bearer, since he offered me not the more precious draught for which I thirsted? My ears were already satiated with similar things; neither did they appear to me more conclusive, because better expressed; nor true, because oratorical; nor the spirit necessarily wise, because the face was comely and the language eloquent. But they who extolled him to me were not competent judges; and therefore, as he was possessed of suavity of speech, he appeared to them to be prudent and wise. Another sort of persons, however, was, I was aware, suspicious even of truth itself, if enunciated in smooth and flowing language. But me, O my God, You had already instructed by wonderful and mysterious ways, and therefore I believe that You instructed me because it is truth; nor of truth is there any other teacher — where or whencesoever it may shine upon us — but You. From You, therefore, I had now learned, that because a thing is eloquently expressed, it should not of necessity seem to be true; nor, because uttered with stammering lips, should it be false nor, again, perforce true, because unskilfully delivered; nor consequently untrue, because the language is fine; but that wisdom and folly are as food both wholesome and unwholesome, and courtly or simple words as town-made or rustic vessels — and both kinds of food may be served in either kind of dish.

The eagerness with which I had waited so long for this man was truly delighted by his manner and passion when debating, and by the smooth and well-chosen words he used to express his ideas. I was therefore filled with joy and joined with others—even surpassing them—in praising and exalting him. However, it was a source of frustration to me that I was not allowed in those gatherings of his listeners to bring up and discuss any of the questions that troubled me through direct conversation with him. When I was able to speak, and began, together with my friends, to get his attention at times when it seemed appropriate for him to have a discussion with me, and had raised the questions that puzzled me, I discovered that he actually knew nothing about the liberal sciences except grammar, and even that only in an average way. He had, however, read some of Cicero's speeches, a very few books by Seneca and some of the poets, and a few volumes from his own sect that were written coherently in Latin. Through daily practice in speaking, he acquired a kind of eloquence that proved all the more delightful and attractive because it was guided by quick wit and a sort of natural charm. Is it not just as I remember, O Lord my God, You judge of my conscience? My heart and my memory lie open before You, who at that time guided me through the hidden mystery of Your providence, and placed before my eyes those shameful errors of mine, so that I might see them and hate them.

11. That eagerness, therefore, with which I had so long waited for this man was in truth delighted with his action and feeling when disputing, and the fluent and apt words with which he clothed his ideas. I was therefore filled with joy, and joined with others (and even exceeded them) in exalting and praising him. It was, however, a source of annoyance to me that I was not allowed at those meetings of his auditors to introduce and impart any of those questions that troubled me in familiar exchange of arguments with him. When I might speak, and began, in conjunction with my friends, to engage his attention at such times as it was not unseeming for him to enter into a discussion with me, and had mooted such questions as perplexed me, I discovered him first to know nothing of the liberal sciences save grammar, and that only in an ordinary way. Having, however, read some of Tully's Orations, a very few books of Seneca and some of the poets, and such few volumes of his own sect as were written coherently in Latin, and being day by day practised in speaking, he so acquired a sort of eloquence, which proved the more delightful and enticing in that it was under the control of ready tact, and a sort of native grace. Is it not even as I recall, O Lord my God, Thou judge of my conscience? My heart and my memory are laid before You, who at that time directed me by the inscrutable mystery of Your Providence, and set before my face those vile errors of mine, in order that I might see and loathe them.

When it became clear to me that he was ignorant of those subjects in which I had believed him to excel, I began to lose hope that he could clear up and explain all the difficulties that troubled me. Even though he was ignorant of these things, he might still have held the truth of true religion if he had not been a Manichæan. Their books are filled with lengthy myths about the heaven and stars, the sun and moon, and I had stopped thinking he could settle in a satisfactory way what I eagerly wanted to know—whether, when comparing these things with the calculations I had read elsewhere, the explanations in the works of Manichæus were better, or at least equally reliable. But when I suggested that these subjects should be carefully discussed and reasoned through, he very modestly did not dare to take on the challenge. He knew that he had no knowledge of these things, and he was not ashamed to admit it. He was not like those talkative people, many of whom had troubled me, who promised to teach me these things but said nothing worthwhile. Instead, this man had a heart that, though not right toward You, was not entirely false toward himself. He was not completely unaware of his own ignorance, and he would not be trapped without careful thought in a debate from which he could neither retreat nor escape honorably. For this reason I was even more pleased with him, because the humility of an honest mind is more beautiful than acquiring the knowledge I desired—and I found him to be this way in all the more complex and subtle questions.

12. For when it became plain to me that he was ignorant of those arts in which I had believed him to excel, I began to despair of his clearing up and explaining all the perplexities which harassed me: though ignorant of these, however, he might still have held the truth of piety, had he not been a Manichæan. For their books are full of lengthy fables concerning the heaven and stars, the sun and moon, and I had ceased to think him able to decide in a satisfactory manner what I ardently desired — whether, on comparing these things with the calculations I had read elsewhere, the explanations contained in the works of Manichæus were preferable, or at any rate equally sound? But when I proposed that these subjects should be deliberated upon and reasoned out, he very modestly did not dare to endure the burden. For he was aware that he had no knowledge of these things, and was not ashamed to confess it. For he was not one of those loquacious persons, many of whom I had been troubled with, who covenanted to teach me these things, and said nothing; but this man possessed a heart, which, though not right towards You, yet was not altogether false towards himself. For he was not altogether ignorant of his own ignorance, nor would he without due consideration be inveigled in a controversy, from which he could neither draw back nor extricate himself fairly. And for that I was even more pleased with him, for more beautiful is the modesty of an ingenuous mind than the acquisition of the knowledge I desired — and such I found him to be in all the more abstruse and subtle questions.

My enthusiasm for the writings of Mani was now held back, and I despaired even more of their other teachers—since this famous man among them had proven inadequate when it came to the various matters that troubled me. I began to spend time with him studying literature that he also loved, and which I, as a Professor of Rhetoric, was then teaching to the young students of Carthage. I would read with him either what he wanted to hear or what I thought suited his interests. But all my efforts to advance in that sect through association with him came completely to an end—not that I separated myself entirely from them, but as someone who could find nothing better, I decided for the time being to content myself with what I had somehow stumbled upon, unless by chance something more desirable should appear. Thus this Faustus, who had trapped so many to their death—neither intending nor knowing it—now began to loosen the snare in which I had been caught. For Your hands, O my God, in the hidden design of Your Providence, did not abandon my soul. From the blood of my mother's heart, through the tears she poured out day and night, a sacrifice was offered to You for me, and in marvelous ways You dealt with me. It was You, O my God, who did this, for the steps of a man are ordered by the Lord, and He shall direct his way. How else can we obtain salvation except from Your hand, remaking what it has made?

13. My eagerness after the writings of Manichæus having thus received a check, and despairing even more of their other teachers — seeing that in sundry things which puzzled me, he, so famous among them, had thus turned out — I began to occupy myself with him in the study of that literature which he also much affected, and which I, as Professor of Rhetoric, was then engaged in teaching the young Carthaginian students, and in reading with him either what he expressed a wish to hear, or I deemed suited to his bent of mind. But all my endeavours by which I had concluded to improve in that sect, by acquaintance with that man, came completely to an end: not that I separated myself altogether from them, but, as one who could find nothing better, I determined in the meantime upon contenting myself with what I had in any way lighted upon, unless, by chance, something more desirable should present itself. Thus that Faustus, who had entrapped so many to their death — neither willing nor witting it — now began to loosen the snare in which I had been taken. For Your hands, O my God, in the hidden design of Your Providence, did not desert my soul; and out of the blood of my mother's heart, through the tears that she poured out by day and by night, was a sacrifice offered unto You for me; and by marvellous ways did Thou deal with me. Joel 2:26 It was Thou, O my God, who did it, for the steps of a man are ordered by the Lord, and He shall dispose his way. Or how can we procure salvation but from Your hand, remaking what it has made?

You dealt with me, therefore, so that I would be persuaded to go to Rome and teach there what I was then teaching at Carthage. I will not fail to confess to You how I was persuaded to do this, for in this also the deepest workings of Your wisdom and Your ever-present mercy toward us must be reflected on and declared. It was not that I wanted to go to Rome because greater advantages and honors were guaranteed to me by the friends who persuaded me to do this—though even at this time I was influenced by these considerations—but my principal and almost sole reason was that I had been told that students there studied more quietly and were kept in line by stricter discipline, so that they did not capriciously and rudely break into the classroom of a teacher who was not their own, which they were forbidden to enter without his consent. At Carthage, on the contrary, there was among the students a shameful and uncontrolled lawlessness. They burst in rudely and, with almost violent gestures, disrupt whatever system anyone may have established for the good of his students. They commit many outrages with shocking indifference, which would be punishable by law if they were not sustained by custom—that custom showing them to be even more worthless, in that they now do, as if legally, what by Your unchangeable law will never be lawful. And they think they do it with impunity, whereas the very blindness with which they do it is their punishment, and they suffer far greater things than what they inflict. The behavior, then, which as a student I would not adopt, I was forced as a teacher to endure from others, and so I was very glad to go where everyone who knew anything about it assured me that such things did not happen. But You, my refuge and my portion in the land of the living, while at Carthage prodded me so that I might be withdrawn from it and exchange my worldly dwelling for the preservation of my soul, while at Rome You offered me enticements to attract me there, using people enchanted with this dying life—the one group doing insane actions and the other making promises of empty things—and in order to correct my steps, You secretly employed both their perversity and mine. For both those who disturbed my peace were blinded by shameful madness, and those who lured me elsewhere had the taste of earthly things. And I, who hated real misery here, sought imaginary happiness there.

14. You dealt with me, therefore, that I should be persuaded to go to Rome, and teach there rather what I was then teaching at Carthage. And how I was persuaded to do this, I will not fail to confess unto You; for in this also the profoundest workings of Your wisdom, and Your ever present mercy to usward, must be pondered and avowed. It was not my desire to go to Rome because greater advantages and dignities were guaranteed me by the friends who persuaded me into this — although even at this period I was influenced by these considerations — but my principal and almost sole motive was, that I had been informed that the youths studied more quietly there, and were kept under by the control of more rigid discipline, so that they did not capriciously and impudently rush into the school of a master not their own, into whose presence they were forbidden to enter unless with his consent. At Carthage, on the contrary, there was among the scholars a shameful and intemperate license. They burst in rudely, and, with almost furious gesticulations, interrupt the system which any one may have instituted for the good of his pupils. Many outrages they perpetrate with astounding phlegm, which would be punishable by law were they not sustained by custom; that custom showing them to be the more worthless, in that they now do, as according to law, what by Your unchangeable law will never be lawful. And they fancy they do it with impunity, whereas the very blindness whereby they do it is their punishment, and they suffer far greater things than they do. The manners, then, which as a student I would not adopt, I was compelled as a teacher to submit to from others; and so I was too glad to go where all who knew anything about it assured me that similar things were not done. But You, my refuge and my portion in the land of the living, while at Carthage goaded me, so that I might thereby be withdrawn from it, and exchange my worldly habitation for the preservation of my soul; while at Rome You offered me enticements by which to attract me there, by men enchanted with this dying life — the one doing insane actions, and the other making assurances of vain things; and, in order to correct my footsteps, secretly employed their and my perversity. For both they who disturbed my tranquillity were blinded by a shameful madness, and they who allured me elsewhere smacked of the earth. And I, who hated real misery here, sought fictitious happiness there.

But the reason I was leaving there and going to Rome—You knew, O God, yet You revealed it neither to me nor to my mother, who deeply grieved over my journey and accompanied me as far as the sea. I deceived her when she desperately tried either to keep me back or to come with me, and I pretended that I had a friend I couldn't leave until he had a favorable wind to sail. I lied to my mother—and such a mother!—and escaped. Yet even this You have mercifully pardoned me, saving me, filled as I was with abominable defilements, from the waters of the sea, for the water of Your grace, by which, when I was cleansed, the fountain of my mother's eyes would be dried—those eyes from which she daily watered the ground beneath her face for my sake. Yet she refused to go back without me, and only with difficulty did I persuade her to stay that night in a place very near our ship, where there was a chapel in memory of the blessed Cyprian. That night I secretly departed, but she was constant in prayers and weeping. And what was she asking of You, O Lord, with such an abundance of tears, except that You would not allow me to sail? But You, mysteriously planning and hearing the real purpose of her desire, did not grant what she then asked, in order to make me what she was always asking for. The wind blew and filled our sails and took the shore from our sight; and she, wild with grief, was there the next morning, filling Your ears with complaints and groans, which You disregarded, while through my own desires You were hurrying me toward the end of all desire, and the carnal part of her love for me was beaten out by the just whip of sorrow. But like all mothers—though even more than others—she loved having me with her, and did not know what joy You were preparing for her through my absence. Not knowing this, she wept and mourned, and in her agony could be seen the inheritance of Eve—seeking in sorrow what in sorrow she had brought forth. And yet, after accusing my treachery and cruelty, she again continued her prayers for me to You, returned to her usual place, and I went on to Rome.

15. But the cause of my going thence and going there, You, O God, knew, yet revealed it not, either to me or to my mother, who grievously lamented my journey, and went with me as far as the sea. But I deceived her, when she violently restrained me either that she might retain me or accompany me, and I pretended that I had a friend whom I could not quit until he had a favourable wind to set sail. And I lied to my mother — and such a mother!– and got away. For this also You have in mercy pardoned me, saving me, thus replete with abominable pollutions, from the waters of the sea, for the water of Your grace, whereby, when I was purified, the fountains of my mother's eyes should be dried, from which for me she day by day watered the ground under her face. And yet, refusing to go back without me, it was with difficulty I persuaded her to remain that night in a place quite close to our ship, where there was an oratory in memory of the blessed Cyprian. That night I secretly left, but she was not backward in prayers and weeping. And what was it, O Lord, that she, with such an abundance of tears, was asking of You, but that You would not permit me to sail? But You, mysteriously counselling and hearing the real purpose of her desire, granted not what she then asked, in order to make me what she was ever asking. The wind blew and filled our sails, and withdrew the shore from our sight; and she, wild with grief, was there on the morrow, and filled Your ears with complaints and groans, which You disregarded; while, by the means of my longings, You were hastening me on to the cessation of all longing, and the gross part of her love to me was whipped out by the just lash of sorrow. But, like all mothers — though even more than others — she loved to have me with her, and knew not what joy You were preparing for her by my absence. Being ignorant of this, she did weep and mourn, and in her agony was seen the inheritance of Eve, — seeking in sorrow what in sorrow she had brought forth. And yet, after accusing my perfidy and cruelty, she again continued her intercessions for me with You, returned to her accustomed place, and I to Rome.

And so, there I was, struck down by the scourge of bodily sickness, descending into hell weighed down with all the sins I had committed—sins against You, against myself, and against others, many and serious, in addition to that bond of original sin by which we all die in Adam. For You had forgiven me none of these things in Christ, nor had He abolished through His cross the hostility I had brought upon myself with You through my sins. For how could He do so by the crucifixion of a phantom, which is what I believed Him to be? So then, my soul's death was as real as His bodily death seemed to me to be unreal; and His bodily death was as real as the life of my soul, which did not believe this, was false. As the fever grew worse, I was now passing away and dying. For if I had died at that moment, where would I have gone except into the fiery punishments deserved for my evil deeds, according to the truth of Your decree? My mother knew nothing of this, yet while absent, she prayed for me. But You, present everywhere, listened to her where she was and had mercy on me where I was, so that I regained my bodily health, though my sacrilegious heart was still deranged. For even all that danger did not make me want to be baptized, and I was in better condition when, as a boy, I begged for it from my mother's devotion, as I have already described and confessed. But I had grown up to my own shame, and I madly scorned all the remedies of Your healing, You who would not allow me, being such a person, to die a double death. If my mother's heart had been struck with this wound, it could never have been healed. For I cannot adequately express the love she had for me, nor how she now labored for me in the spirit with a far sharper anguish than when she bore me in the flesh.

16. And behold, there was I received by the scourge of bodily sickness, and I was descending into hell burdened with all the sins that I had committed, both against You, myself, and others, many and grievous, over and above that bond of original sin whereby we all die in Adam. 1 Corinthians 15:22 For none of these things had Thou forgiven me in Christ, neither had He abolished by His cross the enmity which, by my sins, I had incurred with You. For how could He, by the crucifixion of a phantasm, which I supposed Him to be? As true, then, was the death of my soul, as that of His flesh appeared to me to be untrue; and as true the death of His flesh as the life of my soul, which believed it not, was false. The fever increasing, I was now passing away and perishing. For had I then gone hence, whither should I have gone but into the fiery torments meet for my misdeeds, in the truth of Your ordinance? She was ignorant of this, yet, while absent, prayed for me. But You, everywhere present, hearkened to her where she was, and had pity upon me where I was, that I should regain my bodily health, although still frenzied in my sacrilegious heart. For all that peril did not make me wish to be baptized, and I was better when, as a lad, I entreated it of my mother's piety, as I have already related and confessed. But I had grown up to my own dishonour, and all the purposes of Your medicine I madly derided, who would not suffer me, though such a one, to die a double death. Had my mother's heart been smitten with this wound, it never could have been cured. For I cannot sufficiently express the love she had for me, nor how she now travailed for me in the spirit with a far keener anguish than when she bore me in the flesh.

I cannot understand, then, how she could have been healed if my death had pierced the depths of her love. Where would her earnest, frequent, and constant prayers to You alone have been then? But could You, most merciful God, despise the contrite and humble heart of that pure and wise widow, who was so faithful in giving to the poor, so kind and attentive to Your saints, not letting one day pass without making an offering at Your altar? Twice a day, morning and evening, she came to Your church without fail—not for empty gossip or old wives' tales, but to listen to You in Your sermons and for You to listen to her in her prayers. Could You—You who gave her such grace—despise and ignore without helping the tears of such a woman, who begged You not for gold or silver, nor for any changing or temporary good, but for the salvation of her son's soul? Certainly not, Lord. You were surely near, hearing and acting in the way You had already determined it should happen. It would be completely unlike You to deceive her in those visions and answers she received from You—some of which I have mentioned and others I have not—which she treasured in her faithful heart and constantly brought before You in prayer as if they were Your signed promise. For You, because Your mercy endures forever, condescend to those whose debts You have forgiven to become a debtor Yourself by Your promises.

17. I cannot conceive, therefore, how she could have been healed if such a death of mine had transfixed the bowels of her love. Where then would have been her so earnest, frequent, and unintermitted prayers to You alone? But could Thou, most merciful God, despise the contrite and humble heart of that pure and prudent widow, so constant in almsdeeds, so gracious and attentive to Your saints, not permitting one day to pass without oblation at Your altar, twice a day, at morning and even-tide, coming to Your church without intermission — not for vain gossiping, nor old wives' fables, 1 Timothy 5:10 but in order that she might listen to You in Your sermons, and Thou to her in her prayers? Could You– You by whose gift she was such — despise and disregard without succouring the tears of such a one, wherewith she entreated You not for gold or silver, nor for any changing or fleeting good, but for the salvation of the soul of her son? By no means, Lord. Assuredly You were near, and were hearing and doing in that method in which You had predetermined that it should be done. Far be it from You that Thou should delude her in those visions and the answers she had from You — some of which I have spoken of, and others not, — which she kept Luke 2:19 in her faithful breast, and, always petitioning, pressed upon You as Your autograph. For Thou, because Your mercy endures for ever, condescendest to those whose debts You have pardoned, to become likewise a debtor by Your promises.

God restored me from that illness and healed the son of Your handmaid in body so that he might live for You and receive a higher and more lasting health. Even then in Rome, I joined those deceiving and deceived saints—not only their hearers, among whom was the man in whose house I had fallen sick and recovered, but also those they call "The Elect." I still believed that it was not we who sin, but that some other nature I could not identify sinned in us. It pleased my pride to be free from blame, and when I committed any fault, I refused to admit I had done anything wrong—so that You might heal my soul because it had sinned against You. Instead, I loved to excuse myself and accuse something else, some unknown thing that was with me but was not I. Yet truly it was entirely I, and my wickedness had divided me against myself. That sin was all the more incurable because I did not consider myself a sinner. What detestable wickedness it was, O almighty God, that I preferred You to be defeated in me for my destruction rather than myself to be defeated by You for my salvation. You had not yet set a watch before my mouth and guarded the door of my lips so that my heart would not turn to wicked words, making excuses for sins with those who work evil—and therefore I was still joined with their Elect.

18. You restored me then from that illness, and made sound the son of Your hand-maid meanwhile in body, that he might live for You, to endow him with a higher and more enduring health. And even then at Rome I joined those deluding and deluded saints; not their hearers only — of the number of whom was he in whose house I had fallen ill, and had recovered — but those also whom they designate The Elect. For it still seemed to me that it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other nature sinned in us. And it gratified my pride to be free from blame and, after I had committed any fault, not to acknowledge that I had done any — that You might heal my soul because it had sinned against You; but I loved to excuse it, and to accuse something else (I know not what) which was with me, but was not I. But assuredly it was wholly I, and my impiety had divided me against myself; and that sin was all the more incurable in that I did not deem myself a sinner. And execrable iniquity it was, O God omnipotent, that I would rather have You to be overcome in me to my destruction, than myself of You to salvation! Not yet, therefore, had Thou set a watch before my mouth, and kept the door of my lips, that my heart might not incline to wicked speeches, to make excuses of sins, with men that work iniquity — and, therefore, was I still united with their Elect.

I had now lost all hope of making progress in that false teaching. Even the beliefs I had decided to settle for—if I couldn't find anything better—I now held more loosely and carelessly. I was half inclined to think that the philosophers called Academics were wiser than the others, since they taught that we should doubt everything and concluded that humans cannot grasp any truth. Not yet understanding what they really meant, I was completely convinced they thought exactly what people commonly suppose they do. I freely tried to shake my host's confidence in those fantasies that fill the writings of Mani. Nevertheless, I remained on closer terms of friendship with them than with others outside this heresy. I no longer defended it with my former passion, but my familiarity with that group (many of whom were hiding in Rome) made me slower to search for another path—especially since I had lost hope of finding truth in your Church, O Lord of heaven and earth, Creator of all things visible and invisible, from which they had led me away. It seemed utterly inappropriate to me to believe that you had the form of human flesh and were confined by the bodily outlines of our limbs. Because when I wanted to think about my God, I couldn't conceive of anything except a mass of bodies (since whatever wasn't like that didn't seem real to me), this was the greatest and nearly the only cause of my unavoidable error.

19. But now, hopeless of making proficiency in that false doctrine, even those things with which I had decided upon contenting myself, providing that I could find nothing better, I now held more loosely and negligently. For I was half inclined to believe that those philosophers whom they call Academics were more sagacious than the rest, in that they held that we ought to doubt everything, and ruled that man had not the power of comprehending any truth; for so, not yet realizing their meaning, I also was fully persuaded that they thought just as they are commonly held to do. And I did not fail frankly to restrain in my host that assurance which I observed him to have in those fictions of which the works of Manichæus are full. Notwithstanding, I was on terms of more intimate friendship with them than with others who were not of this heresy. Nor did I defend it with my former ardour; still my familiarity with that sect (many of them being concealed in Rome) made me slower to seek any other way — particularly since I was hopeless of finding the truth, from which in Your Church, O Lord of heaven and earth, Creator of all things visible and invisible, they had turned me aside — and it seemed to me most unbecoming to believe You to have the form of human flesh, and to be bounded by the bodily lineaments of our members. And because, when I desired to meditate on my God, I knew not what to think of but a mass of bodies (for what was not such did not seem to me to be), this was the greatest and almost sole cause of my inevitable error.

From this starting point, I also believed that evil was a similar kind of substance, possessing its own foul and misshapen mass—either dense, which they called earth, or thin and subtle, like the body of air, which they imagined as some malignant spirit crawling through that earth. And because a sense of piety—such as it was—compelled me to believe that the good God never created any evil nature, I conceived of two masses opposed to each other, both infinite, but the evil one more contracted and the good one more expansive. And from this harmful beginning, other profanities followed for me. For when my mind tried to return to the Catholic faith, I was pushed back, since what I had thought was the Catholic faith was not actually so. And it seemed to me more devout to regard You, my God—to whom I confess Your mercies—as infinite, at least on other sides, although on the side where the mass of evil opposed You I was forced to confess You were finite, rather than to conceive of You as confined on every side by the form of a human body. And it seemed better to me to believe that no evil had been created by You—which in my ignorance appeared to me not only as some substance, but as a bodily one, because I had no conception of mind except as a subtle body diffused through local spaces—than to believe that anything of the sort I considered the nature of evil to be could come forth from You. And I believed that our very Savior Himself, Your Only-begotten, had been reached forth, as it were, for our salvation out of the lump of Your most brilliant mass, so that I believed nothing about Him except what I was able to imagine in my vanity. I thought, then, that such a nature could not be born of the Virgin Mary without being mingled with the flesh; and I did not see how what I had pictured to myself could be mingled without being contaminated. I was afraid, therefore, to believe He was born in the flesh, lest I be forced to believe Him contaminated by the flesh. Now Your spiritual ones will smile at me gently and lovingly if they read these confessions of mine; yet such was I.

20. For hence I also believed evil to be a similar sort of substance, and to be possessed of its own foul and misshapen mass — whether dense, which they denominated earth, or thin and subtle, as is the body of the air, which they fancy some malignant spirit crawling through that earth. And because a piety — such as it was — compelled me to believe that the good God never created any evil nature, I conceived two masses, the one opposed to the other, both infinite, but the evil the more contracted, the good the more expansive. And from this mischievous commencement the other profanities followed on me. For when my mind tried to revert to the Catholic faith, I was cast back, since what I had held to be the Catholic faith was not so. And it appeared to me more devout to look upon You, my God — to whom I make confession of Your mercies — as infinite, at least, on other sides, although on that side where the mass of evil was in opposition to You I was compelled to confess You finite, that if on every side I should conceive You to be confined by the form of a human body. And better did it seem to me to believe that no evil had been created by You — which to me in my ignorance appeared not only some substance, but a bodily one, because I had no conception of the mind excepting as a subtle body, and that diffused in local spaces — than to believe that anything could emanate from You of such a kind as I considered the nature of evil to be. And our very Saviour Himself, also, Your only-begotten, I believed to have been reached forth, as it were, for our salvation out of the lump of Your most effulgent mass, so as to believe nothing of Him but what I was able to imagine in my vanity. Such a nature, then, I thought could not be born of the Virgin Mary without being mingled with the flesh; and how that which I had thus figured to myself could be mingled without being contaminated, I saw not. I was afraid, therefore, to believe Him to be born in the flesh, lest I should be compelled to believe Him contaminated by the flesh. Now will Your spiritual ones blandly and lovingly smile at me if they shall read these my confessions; yet such was I.

Furthermore, I thought that whatever they had criticized in Your Scriptures could not be defended. Yet sometimes I wanted to discuss these various points with someone well educated in those books and see what he thought about them. For at that time, the words of a man named Helpidius, who was speaking and debating face to face against these Manichæans, had begun to influence me even while I was in Carthage, because he brought forth things from the Scriptures that were not easily opposed, and their response seemed weak to me. They did not give this answer publicly, but only to us in private—when they claimed that the writings of the New Testament had been corrupted by certain unknown persons who wanted to graft the Jewish law onto the Christian faith. But they themselves did not produce any uncorrupted copies. However, I was thinking in terms of corporeal things, very much trapped and to some extent suffocated, and was weighed down by those masses. Gasping beneath them for the breath of Your Truth, I was unable to breathe it pure and undefiled.

21. Furthermore, whatever they had censured in Your Scriptures I thought impossible to be defended; and yet sometimes, indeed, I desired to confer on these several points with some one well learned in those books, and to try what he thought of them. For at this time the words of one Helpidius, speaking and disputing face to face against the said Manichæans, had begun to move me even at Carthage, in that he brought forth things from the Scriptures not easily withstood, to which their answer appeared to me feeble. And this answer they did not give forth publicly, but only to us in private — when they said that the writings of the New Testament had been tampered with by I know not whom, who were desirous of ingrafting the Jewish law upon the Christian faith; but they themselves did not bring forward any uncorrupted copies. But I, thinking of corporeal things, very much ensnared and in a measure stifled, was oppressed by those masses; panting under which for the breath of Your Truth, I was not able to breathe it pure and undefiled.

Then I eagerly began to practice the work I had come to Rome for—teaching rhetoric. I first gathered some students at my home, and through them I started to become known. But then I discovered that other offenses were committed in Rome that I hadn't experienced in Africa. The disruptions caused by unruly young men didn't happen here, as I had been told. Instead, many students would suddenly conspire together to avoid paying their teacher's fees and transfer to another teacher—breaking their word and caring little for justice because of their love of money. My heart hated them too, though not with a perfect hatred. Perhaps I hated them more because I would suffer from their actions than because of the wrong they were actually doing. Such people are truly base, and they are unfaithful to You, loving these passing mockeries of temporary things and worthless gain that stains the hand that grasps it. They embrace the fleeting world and scorn You, who remain constant, who call them to return, and who pardon the corrupted human soul when it turns back to You. Now I hate such crooked and perverted people, though I still love them if they can be corrected to value the learning they receive above money, and to value above learning You, O God, the truth and fullness of assured good and most pure peace. But at that time, my desire not to suffer harm from them for my own sake was stronger than my desire that they should become good for Your sake.

22. Then began I assiduously to practise that for which I came to Rome — the teaching of rhetoric; and first to bring together at my home some to whom, and through whom, I had begun to be known; when, behold, I learned that other offenses were committed in Rome which I had not to bear in Africa. For those subvertings by abandoned young men were not practised here, as I had been informed; yet, suddenly, said they, to evade paying their master's fees, many of the youths conspire together, and remove themselves to another — breakers of faith, who, for the love of money, set a small value on justice. These also my heart hated, though not with a perfect hatred; for, perhaps, I hated them more in that I was to suffer by them, than for the illicit acts they committed. Such of a truth are base persons, and they are unfaithful to You, loving these transitory mockeries of temporal things, and vile gain, which begrimes the hand that lays hold on it; and embracing the fleeting world, and scorning You, who abides, and invites to return, and pardons the prostituted human soul when it returns to You. And now I hate such crooked and perverse men, although I love them if they are to be corrected so as to prefer the learning they obtain to money, and to learning You, O God, the truth and fullness of certain good and most chaste peace. But then was the wish stronger in me for my own sake not to suffer them evil, than was the wish that they should become good for Yours.

When the people of Milan sent a request to Rome asking the city prefect to provide them with a rhetoric teacher for their city and to send him at public expense, I applied for the position through those same people who were intoxicated with Manichæan foolishness—the very foolishness I was going away to escape, though neither they nor I realized this at the time. Symmachus, who was then prefect, tested me by assigning me a topic to speak on, and then sent me. So I came to Milan, to Ambrose the bishop, known throughout the world as among the best of men, Your devout servant, whose eloquent preaching at that time powerfully distributed to Your people the flour of Your wheat, the gladness of Your oil, and the sober intoxication of Your wine. I was unknowingly led to him by You, so that through him I might knowingly be led to You. That man of God received me like a father and showed a kind and fatherly episcopal concern for my move. I began to love him, though not at first as a teacher of the truth—for I had completely given up hope of finding that in Your Church—but simply as a person who was friendly toward me. I listened carefully to him preaching to the people, but not with the right motive. Instead, I was testing whether his eloquence lived up to its reputation, or whether it was greater or less than reported. I paid close attention to his words, but I was merely a careless and scornful observer of the content. I enjoyed the pleasantness of his discourse, which was more learned but less cheerful and soothing in style than that of Faustus. As for the content, however, there was no comparison, because Faustus was wandering in Manichæan deceptions, while Ambrose was teaching salvation most soundly. But salvation is far from the wicked, which is what I was when I stood before him. Yet I was drawing nearer, gradually and unconsciously.

23. When, therefore, they of Milan had sent to Rome to the prefect of the city, to provide them with a teacher of rhetoric for their city, and to dispatch him at the public expense, I made interest through those identical persons, drunk with Manichæan vanities, to be freed from whom I was going away — neither of us, however, being aware of it — that Symmachus, the then prefect, having proved me by proposing a subject, would send me. And to Milan I came, unto Ambrose the bishop, known to the whole world as among the best of men, Your devout servant; whose eloquent discourse did at that time strenuously dispense unto Your people the flour of Your wheat, the gladness of Your oil, and the sober intoxication of Your wine. To him was I unknowingly led by You, that by him I might knowingly be led to You. That man of God received me like a father, and looked with a benevolent and episcopal kindliness on my change of abode. And I began to love him, not at first, indeed, as a teacher of the truth — which I entirely despaired of in Your Church, — but as a man friendly to myself. And I studiously hearkened to him preaching to the people, not with the motive I should, but, as it were, trying to discover whether his eloquence came up to the fame thereof, or flowed fuller or lower than was asserted; and I hung on his words intently, but of the matter I was but as a careless and contemptuous spectator; and I was delighted with the pleasantness of his speech, more erudite, yet less cheerful and soothing in manner, than that of Faustus. Of the matter, however, there could be no comparison; for the latter was straying amid Manichæan deceptions, while the former was teaching salvation most soundly. But salvation is far from the wicked, such as I then stood before him; and yet I was drawing nearer gradually and unconsciously.

For although I made no effort to learn what he was saying, but only to hear how he was saying it (since that empty concern alone remained to me, having lost hope of finding a path accessible for human beings to reach You), yet together with the words whose delivery I valued, the actual content that I had disregarded also entered my mind; for I could not separate them. And while I opened my heart to receive how skillfully he spoke, there also entered along with it, though gradually, how truthfully he spoke! For these things too had begun to seem defensible to me; and the Catholic faith, against which I had thought nothing could be said in reply to the Manichaean attacks, I now understood could be maintained without arrogance; especially after I had heard one or two passages of the Old Testament explained, often allegorically—which when I had understood literally, killed me spiritually. Many passages of those books having now been explained to me, I blamed my earlier despair in having believed that no answer could be given to those who hated and mocked the Law and the Prophets. Yet I did not then conclude that the Catholic way should therefore be embraced because it had learned defenders who could respond at length and not unreasonably to objections; nor that what I held should therefore be condemned because both sides were equally defensible. For the Catholic way did not appear to me to be defeated; but neither did it yet seem to me to be victorious.

24. For although I took no trouble to learn what he spoke, but only to hear how he spoke (for that empty care alone remained to me, despairing of a way accessible for man to You), yet, together with the words which I prized, there came into my mind also the things about which I was careless; for I could not separate them. And while I opened my heart to admit how skilfully he spoke, there also entered with it, but gradually, and how truly he spoke! For first, these things also had begun to appear to me to be defensible; and the Catholic faith, for which I had fancied nothing could be said against the attacks of the Manichæans, I now conceived might be maintained without presumption; especially after I had heard one or two parts of the Old Testament explained, and often allegorically — which when I accepted literally, I was killed spiritually. Many places, then, of those books having been expounded to me, I now blamed my despair in having believed that no reply could be made to those who hated and derided the Law and the Prophets. Yet I did not then see that for that reason the Catholic way was to be held because it had its learned advocates, who could at length, and not irrationally, answer objections; nor that what I held ought therefore to be condemned because both sides were equally defensible. For that way did not appear to me to be vanquished; nor yet did it seem to me to be victorious.

I now urgently turned my attention to see if I could somehow prove the Manicheans wrong. If I could have grasped what a spiritual substance actually was, all their positions would have collapsed and been completely thrown out of my mind—but I couldn't. Nevertheless, regarding the physical world and all of nature that our bodily senses can reach, I found myself increasingly thinking and comparing, and I concluded that most of the philosophers held far more reasonable views. So then, following the approach of the Academics (as they're understood), doubting everything and wavering between all positions, I decided to abandon the Manicheans. I judged that even in this state of doubt, I couldn't stay in a group I considered inferior to some of the philosophers. Yet because those philosophers lacked the saving name of Christ, I absolutely refused to hand over the care of my struggling soul to them. I therefore decided to become a catechumen in the Catholic Church, which my parents had recommended to me, until something definite should reveal itself to show me where I ought to direct my path.

25. Hereupon did I earnestly bend my mind to see if in any way I could possibly prove the Manichæans guilty of falsehood. Could I have realized a spiritual substance, all their strongholds would have been beaten down, and cast utterly out of my mind; but I could not. But yet, concerning the body of this world, and the whole of nature, which the senses of the flesh can attain unto, I, now more and more considering and comparing things, judged that the greater part of the philosophers held much the more probable opinions. So, then, after the manner of the Academics (as they are supposed), doubting of everything and fluctuating between all, I decided that the Manichæans were to be abandoned; judging that, even while in that period of doubt, I could not remain in a sect to which I preferred some of the philosophers; to which philosophers, however, because they were without the saving name of Christ, I utterly refused to commit the cure of my fainting soul. I resolved, therefore, to be a catechumen in the Catholic Church, which my parents had commended to me, until something settled should manifest itself to me whither I might steer my course.

For nine years, from my nineteenth to my twenty-eighth birthday, I lived seduced and seducing, deceived and deceiving, caught up in various lusts. Publicly, I pursued what they call the liberal arts. Secretly, I followed a false religion. In one area I was proud, in another superstitious, and in everything vain. On one hand, I chased after empty popular fame—theatrical applause, poetry competitions, contests for wreaths of grass, the foolishness of public shows, and uncontrolled desires. On the other hand, I tried to purify myself from these corruptions by bringing food to those called the elect and holy, from which they would supposedly produce angels and gods for us in the workshop of their stomachs, gods who could deliver us. I pursued these things eagerly and practiced them with my friends, who were deceived by me and along with me. Let the proud laugh at me—those who have not yet been mercifully thrown down and struck by You, my God. Nevertheless, I confess my shame to You as praise to You. Bear with me, I beg You, and grant me the grace to trace again in my present memory the wandering paths of my past errors, and to offer You the sacrifice of thanksgiving. For what am I to myself without You except a guide to my own destruction? Or what am I even at my best except one nursing at Your milk and feeding on You, the food that does not perish? But what kind of person is any person, since he is only human? So let the strong and mighty laugh at us, but let us who are poor and needy confess to You.

1. During this space of nine years, then, from my nineteenth to my eight and twentieth year, we went on seduced and seducing, deceived and deceiving, in various lusts; publicly, by sciences which they style liberal — secretly, with a falsity called religion. Here proud, there superstitious, everywhere vain! Here, striving after the emptiness of popular fame, even to theatrical applauses, and poetic contests, and strifes for grassy garlands, and the follies of shows and the intemperance of desire. There, seeking to be purged from these our corruptions by carrying food to those who were called elect and holy, out of which, in the laboratory of their stomachs, they should make for us angels and gods, by whom we might be delivered. These things did I follow eagerly, and practise with my friends — by me and with me deceived. Let the arrogant, and such as have not been yet savingly cast down and stricken by You, O my God, laugh at me; but notwithstanding I would confess to You my own shame in Your praise. Bear with me, I beseech You, and give me grace to retrace in my present remembrance the circlings of my past errors, and to offer to You the sacrifice of thanksgiving. For what am I to myself without You, but a guide to my own downfall? Or what am I even at the best, but one sucking Your milk, 1 Peter 2:2 and feeding upon You, the meat that perishes not? John 6:27 But what kind of man is any man, seeing that he is but a man? Let, then, the strong and the mighty laugh at us, but let us who are poor and needy confess unto You.

In those years I taught the art of rhetoric, and overcome by greed, I sold eloquent speaking skills that could be used to win arguments. Yet I preferred—Lord, You know—to have honest students, as they are considered. I taught them these techniques without trickery, not to be used against innocent people's lives, though sometimes for the lives of the guilty. And You, O God, saw me from afar stumbling on that slippery path, and amid much smoke sending out some sparks of faithfulness, which I showed in my teaching of those who loved empty things and pursued lies, while I was their companion. In those years I had one woman, not in what is called lawful marriage, but whom my undisciplined passion, lacking understanding, had found. Yet I had only one, remaining faithful to her alone. Through her I truly learned by my own experience what difference there is between the restraints of the marriage bond, made for the purpose of having children, and the arrangement of lustful love, where children are born against the parents' will, although once they are born, they compel love.

2. In those years I taught the art of rhetoric, and, overcome by cupidity, put to sale a loquacity by which to overcome. Yet I preferred — Lord, You know — to have honest scholars (as they are esteemed); and these I, without artifice, taught artifices, not to be put in practise against the life of the guiltless, though sometimes for the life of the guilty. And You, O God, from afar saw me stumbling in that slippery path, and amid much smoke sending out some flashes of fidelity, which I exhibited in that my guidance of such as loved vanity and sought after leasing, I being their companion. In those years I had one (whom I knew not in what is called lawful wedlock, but whom my wayward passion, void of understanding, had discovered), yet one only, remaining faithful even to her; in whom I found out truly by my own experience what difference there is between the restraints of the marriage bonds, contracted for the sake of issue, and the compact of a lustful love, where children are born against the parents will, although, being born, they compel love.

I remember, too, that when I decided to compete for a theatrical prize, a soothsayer asked me what I would give him to ensure my victory. But I detested and abhorred such foul practices, and I answered that even if the prize were a garland of imperishable gold, I would not allow a fly to be killed to win it for me. For he intended to slaughter certain living creatures in his sacrifices and by those rituals invite demons to support me. But I refused this evil thing, though not out of pure love for You, O God of my heart. I did not know how to love You, because I did not know how to conceive of anything beyond physical brightness. And does not a soul, longing after such false images, commit fornication against You, trust in lies, and feed on wind? But I would not have sacrifices offered to demons on my behalf, even though I myself was offering sacrifices to them through that superstition. For what else is feeding on wind but feeding them—that is, by our wanderings becoming their amusement and mockery?

3. I remember, too, that when I decided to compete for a theatrical prize, a soothsayer demanded of me what I would give him to win; but I, detesting and abominating such foul mysteries, answered, That if the garland were of imperishable gold, I would not suffer a fly to be destroyed to secure it for me. For he was to slay certain living creatures in his sacrifices, and by those honours to invite the devils to give me their support. But this ill thing I also refused, not out of a pure love for You, O God of my heart; for I knew not how to love You, knowing not how to conceive anything beyond corporeal brightness. And does not a soul, sighing after such-like fictions, commit fornication against You, trust in false things, and nourish the wind? Hosea 12:1 But I would not, forsooth, have sacrifices offered to devils on my behalf, though I myself was offering sacrifices to them by that superstition. For what else is nourishing the wind but nourishing them, that is, by our wanderings to become their enjoyment and derision?

I freely consulted those frauds they call astrologers, because they didn't use sacrifices or call on any spirit for their predictions—practices that Christian and true piety rightly rejects and condemns. It is good to confess to You and say, "Have mercy on me, heal my soul, for I have sinned against You," and not to abuse Your goodness as permission to sin, but to remember the Lord's words: "Behold, you are made whole; sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto you." All this healthy counsel they try to destroy when they say, "The cause of your sin is inevitably fixed in the heavens," and "Venus did this," or "Saturn," or "Mars"—so that man, this flesh and blood, this proud corruption, can be blameless, while the Creator and Ruler of heaven and the stars must bear the blame. And who is this but You, our God, the sweetness and source of righteousness, who repays every person according to their deeds and does not despise a broken and contrite heart?

4. Those impostors, then, whom they designate Mathematicians, I consulted without hesitation, because they used no sacrifices, and invoked the aid of no spirit for their divinations, which art Christian and true piety fitly rejects and condemns. For good it is to confess unto You, and to say, Be merciful unto me, heal my soul, for I have sinned against You; and not to abuse Your goodness for a license to sin, but to remember the words of the Lord, Behold, you are made whole; sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto you. John 5:14 All of which salutary advice they endeavour to destroy when they say, The cause of your sin is inevitably determined in heaven; and, This did Venus, or Saturn, or Mars; in order that man, forsooth, flesh and blood, and proud corruption, may be blameless, while the Creator and Ordainer of heaven and stars is to bear the blame. And who is this but You, our God, the sweetness and well-spring of righteousness, who renderest to every man according to his deeds, and despisest not a broken and a contrite heart!

There was in those days a wise man, very skilled in medicine and highly respected in his field. He had with his own proconsular hand placed the prize garland on my troubled head, though not as a physician. For this disease only You can heal, You who resist the proud and give grace to the humble. But did You fail me even through that old man, or hold back from healing my soul? When I had become closer to him and listened intently to his conversation—which, though expressed in simple language, was full of energy, life, and seriousness—he noticed from my talk that I was devoted to books on horoscopes. In a kind and fatherly way, he advised me to throw them away and not waste the care and effort needed for useful things on these empty pursuits. He said that in his earlier years he had studied that art intending to make his living by practicing it professionally, and that since he had understood Hippocrates, he would soon have understood astrology too. Yet he had given it up and pursued medicine instead, for no other reason than that he discovered astrology to be utterly false, and being a man of integrity, he would not make his living by deceiving people. But you, he said, have rhetoric to support yourself, so you follow astrology by free choice, not from necessity—all the more reason, then, to believe me, since I worked to master it so thoroughly because I wanted to earn my living by it alone. When I asked him to explain how so many true things are predicted by it, he answered me (as best he could) that the force of chance, spread throughout the whole order of nature, brought this about. For if someone accidentally opens the pages of some poet who sang and meant something completely different, and a verse often turns out remarkably fitting for the present situation, it should not be surprising, he continued, if from the human soul, through some higher instinct not knowing what is happening within itself, an answer should be given by chance rather than by skill, which happens to match the circumstances and actions of the person asking.

5. There was in those days a wise man, very skilful in medicine, and much renowned therein, who had with his own proconsular hand put the Agonistic garland upon my distempered head, not, though, as a physician; for this disease You alone heal, who resistest the proud, and givest grace to the humble. But did You fail me even by that old man, or forbear from healing my soul? For when I had become more familiar with him, and hung assiduously and fixedly on his conversation (for though couched in simple language, it was replete with vivacity, life, and earnestness), when he had perceived from my discourse that I was given to books of the horoscope-casters, he, in a kind and fatherly manner, advised me to throw them away, and not vainly bestow the care and labour necessary for useful things upon these vanities; saying that he himself in his earlier years had studied that art with a view to gaining his living by following it as a profession, and that, as he had understood Hippocrates, he would soon have understood this, and yet he had given it up, and followed medicine, for no other reason than that he discovered it to be utterly false, and he, being a man of character, would not gain his living by beguiling people. But you, says he, who hast rhetoric to support yourself by, so that you follow this of free will, not of necessity — all the more, then, ought you to give me credit herein, who laboured to attain it so perfectly, as I wished to gain my living by it alone. When I asked him to account for so many true things being foretold by it, he answered me (as he could) that the force of chance, diffused throughout the whole order of nature, brought this about. For if when a man by accident opens the leaves of some poet, who sang and intended something far different, a verse oftentimes fell out wondrously apposite to the present business, it were not to be wondered at, he continued, if out of the soul of man, by some higher instinct, not knowing what goes on within itself, an answer should be given by chance, not art, which should coincide with the business and actions of the questioner.

And so, whether directly by him or through him, You were taking care of me. And You impressed on my memory something I would later investigate for myself. But at that time, neither he nor my very dear friend Nebridius—a young man of great virtue and good judgment who ridiculed that entire system of divination—could convince me to abandon it, because the authority of its writers still influenced me more strongly. And I had not yet found any definite proof—the kind I was looking for—that would show beyond doubt that what had been accurately predicted by those who were consulted happened by accident or chance, not through the skill of astrologers.

6. And thus truly, either by or through him, You looked after me. And You delineated in my memory what I might afterwards search out for myself. But at that time neither he, nor my most dear Nebridius, a youth most good and most circumspect, who scoffed at that whole stock of divination, could persuade me to forsake it, the authority of the authors influencing me still more; and as yet I had lighted upon no certain proof — such as I sought — whereby it might without doubt appear that what had been truly foretold by those consulted was by accident or chance, not by the art of the star-gazers.

In those years, when I first began to teach rhetoric in my hometown, I had gained a very dear friend through our shared studies. He was my own age and, like me, just entering the prime of youth. He had grown up with me from childhood, and we had been both school companions and playmates. But he was not yet my friend in the truest sense, nor was he even afterward, because true friendship exists only in those whom You bind together, making them cling to You through that love which is poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who is given to us. Still, our friendship was too sweet, having been strengthened by the enthusiasm of similar studies. I had turned him away from the true faith (which he, as a young man, had not firmly and thoroughly grasped) toward those superstitious and harmful beliefs that my mother grieved over in me. This man's mind now wandered astray with mine, and my soul could not exist without him. But look, You were close behind Your runaways—at once the God of vengeance and the Fountain of mercies, who turns us back to Yourself by remarkable means. You took that man from this life when he had barely completed one full year of my friendship, which was sweeter to me than all the sweetness of my life.

7. In those years, when I first began to teach rhetoric in my native town, I had acquired a very dear friend, from association in our studies, of my own age, and, like myself, just rising up into the flower of youth. He had grown up with me from childhood, and we had been both classmates and playmates. But he was not then my friend, nor, indeed, afterwards, as true friendship is; for true it is not but in such as You bind together, cleaving unto You by that love which is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which is given unto us. Romans 5:5 But yet it was too sweet, being ripened by the fervour of similar studies. For, from the true faith (which he, as a youth, had not soundly and thoroughly become master of), I had turned him aside towards those superstitious and pernicious fables which my mother mourned in me. With me this man's mind now erred, nor could my soul exist without him. But behold, You were close behind Your fugitives — at once God of vengeance and Fountain of mercies, who turnest us to Yourself by wondrous means. You removed that man from this life when he had scarce completed one whole year of my friendship, sweet to me above all the sweetness of that my life.

Who can fully express all Your praise that he has experienced in himself alone? What did You do then, O my God, and how unsearchable are the depths of Your judgments! When he lay gravely ill with a fever and remained unconscious for a long time in a deathly sweat, and everyone had given up hope for his recovery, he was baptized while unconscious. Meanwhile, I cared little about this, assuming that his soul would hold on to what he had learned from me rather than what had been done to his unconscious body. But it turned out very differently, for he recovered and was restored to health. As soon as I could speak with him—which I could do as soon as he was able, since I never left him and we depended too much on each other—I tried to joke with him, expecting that he would also joke with me about the baptism he had received when his mind and senses were absent, but which he had now learned he had received. Instead, he recoiled from me as if I were his enemy and, with remarkable and unexpected boldness, warned me that if I wanted to remain his friend, I must stop speaking to him in such a way. Shocked and bewildered, I hid all my feelings, planning to wait until he was well and his health was strong enough for me to handle him as I wished. But he was taken away from my madness so that he might be preserved with You for my comfort. A few days later, while I was away, the fever returned and he died.

8. Who can show forth all Your praise which he has experienced in himself alone? What was it that Thou did then, O my God, and how unsearchable are the depths of Your judgments! For when, sore sick of a fever, he long lay unconscious in a death-sweat, and all despaired of his recovery, he was baptized without his knowledge; myself meanwhile little caring, presuming that his soul would retain rather what it had imbibed from me, than what was done to his unconscious body. Far different, however, was it, for he was revived and restored. Straightway, as soon as I could talk to him (which I could as soon as he was able, for I never left him, and we hung too much upon each other), I attempted to jest with him, as if he also would jest with me at that baptism which he had received when mind and senses were in abeyance, but had now learned that he had received. But he shuddered at me, as if I were his enemy; and, with a remarkable and unexpected freedom, admonished me, if I desired to continue his friend, to desist from speaking to him in such a way. I, confounded and confused, concealed all my emotions, till he should get well, and his health be strong enough to allow me to deal with him as I wished. But he was withdrawn from my frenzy, that with You he might be preserved for my comfort. A few days after, during my absence, he had a return of the fever, and died.

At this sorrow my heart was completely darkened, and everything I looked at seemed like death. My homeland was torture to me, and my father's house a strange misery. Whatever I had shared with him now became, in his absence, a cruel torment. My eyes searched for him everywhere, but they could not find him. I hated all places because he was not in them, nor could those places say to me anymore, "Look, he is coming," as they used to when he was alive but away. I became a great riddle to myself and asked my soul why she was so sad and why she troubled me so deeply, but she did not know how to answer me. And when I said, "Hope in God," she quite rightly did not obey me, because that dearest friend whom she had lost was, being a man, both more real and better than the false image she was being told to hope in. Nothing but tears were sweet to me, and they took my friend's place as the dearest of my affections.

9. At this sorrow my heart was utterly darkened, and whatever I looked upon was death. My native country was a torture to me, and my father's house a wondrous unhappiness; and whatsoever I had participated in with him, wanting him, turned into a frightful torture. My eyes sought him everywhere, but he was not granted them; and I hated all places because he was not in them; nor could they now say to me, Behold; he is coming, as they did when he was alive and absent. I became a great puzzle to myself, and asked my soul why she was so sad, and why she so exceedingly disquieted me; but she knew not what to answer me. And if I said, Hope in God, she very properly obeyed me not; because that most dear friend whom she had lost was, being man, both truer and better than that phantasm she was bid to hope in. Naught but tears were sweet to me, and they succeeded my friend in the dearest of my affections.

And now, O Lord, these things have passed away, and time has healed my wound. May I learn from You, who are Truth, and turn the ear of my heart to Your mouth, so that You may tell me why weeping should be so sweet to the unhappy. Have You—although present everywhere—cast our misery far away from You? And You remain in Yourself, but we are troubled with various trials. And yet, unless we wept in Your ears, no hope would remain for us. Where, then, does such sweet fruit come from the bitterness of life, from groans, tears, sighs, and laments? Is it the hope that You hear us that makes it sweet? This is true of prayer, for in prayer there is a desire to approach You. But is it also true in grief for something lost, and the sorrow with which I was then overwhelmed? For I had no hope of his coming back to life again, nor did I seek this with my tears. I only grieved and wept, for I was miserable and had lost my joy. Or is weeping a bitter thing, and because we dislike the things we once enjoyed before, does it give us pleasure even then, when we are rejecting them?

10. And now, O Lord, these things are passed away, and time has healed my wound. May I learn from You, who art Truth, and apply the ear of my heart unto Your mouth, that You may tell me why weeping should be so sweet to the unhappy. Have You — although present everywhere — cast away far from You our misery? And You abide in Yourself, but we are disquieted with various trials; and yet, unless we wept in Your ears, there would be no hope for us remaining. Whence, then, is it that such sweet fruit is plucked from the bitterness of life, from groans, tears, sighs, and lamentations? Is it the hope that You hear us that sweetens it? This is true of prayer, for therein is a desire to approach unto You. But is it also in grief for a thing lost, and the sorrow with which I was then overwhelmed? For I had neither hope of his coming to life again, nor did I seek this with my tears; but I grieved and wept only, for I was miserable, and had lost my joy. Or is weeping a bitter thing, and for distaste of the things which aforetime we enjoyed before, and even then, when we are loathing them, does it cause us pleasure?

But why am I talking about these things? This is not the time to ask questions, but rather to confess to You. I was miserable, and every soul bound by friendship with things that will perish is miserable—he is torn apart when he loses them, and then becomes aware of the misery he had even before he lost them. That's how it was with me at that time. I wept intensely and found rest in bitterness. I was miserable, and yet I valued that miserable life more than my friend. Though I would have willingly exchanged it, I was even more unwilling to lose it than to lose him. In fact, I didn't even know if I was willing to lose it for him, as the story is told of Pylades and Orestes (whether true or invented) that they would gladly have died for each other, or both together, since not living together was worse than death for them. But some contrary feeling had also arisen in me, because living was extremely wearisome to me, and dying was dreadful. I suppose that the more I loved him, the more I hated and feared death as a most cruel enemy that had robbed me of him. I imagined it would suddenly destroy all people, since it had power over him. That's how it was with me, I remember. Look at my heart, O my God! Look and see into me, for I remember it well, O my Hope, who cleanses me from the impurity of such feelings, directing my eyes toward You and pulling my feet out of the snare. I was amazed that other mortals kept living, since the one I loved, as if he would never die, was dead. I was even more amazed that I, who was like a second self to him, could live when he was dead. Someone rightly said of his friend, "You are half of my soul," for I felt that my soul and his soul were one soul in two bodies. Consequently, my life was horrible to me because I didn't want to live as only half. And perhaps that's why I was afraid to die—so that the one I had loved so greatly wouldn't die completely.

11. But why do I speak of these things? For this is not the time to question, but rather to confess unto You. Miserable I was, and miserable is every soul fettered by the friendship of perishable things — he is torn to pieces when he loses them, and then is sensible of the misery which he had before ever he lost them. Thus was it at that time with me; I wept most bitterly, and found rest in bitterness. Thus was I miserable, and that life of misery I accounted dearer than my friend. For though I would willingly have changed it, yet I was even more unwilling to lose it than him; yea, I knew not whether I was willing to lose it even for him, as is handed down to us (if not an invention) of Pylades and Orestes, that they would gladly have died one for another, or both together, it being worse than death to them not to live together. But there had sprung up in me some kind of feeling, too, contrary to this, for both exceedingly wearisome was it to me to live, and dreadful to die, I suppose, the more I loved him, so much the more did I hate and fear, as a most cruel enemy, that death which had robbed me of him; and I imagined it would suddenly annihilate all men, as it had power over him. Thus, I remember, it was with me. Behold my heart, O my God! Behold and look into me, for I remember it well, O my Hope! Who cleansest me from the uncleanness of such affections, directing my eyes towards You, and plucking my feet out of the net. For I was astonished that other mortals lived, since he whom I loved, as if he would never die, was dead; and I wondered still more that I, who was to him a second self, could live when he was dead. Well did one say of his friend, Thou half of my soul, for I felt that my soul and his soul were but one soul in two bodies; and, consequently, my life was a horror to me, because I would not live in half. And therefore, perchance, was I afraid to die, lest he should die wholly whom I had so greatly loved.

O madness that does not know how to love people as they should be loved! O foolish man that I was then, enduring the human condition with such impatience! So I fretted, sighed, wept, tormented myself, and found neither rest nor counsel. For I carried around with me a torn and polluted soul, unable to bear being carried by me, and I could find no place to set it down. Not in pleasant gardens, not in games or songs, not in fragrant places, nor in lavish feasts, nor in the pleasures of the bedroom and bed, nor even in books and poetry did it find rest. Everything seemed terrible, even the light itself; and whatever was not what he was seemed repulsive and hateful, except groaning and tears, for in those alone I found a little rest. But when my soul was pulled away from them, a heavy burden of misery pressed down on me. To You, O Lord, it should have been lifted, for You to lighten and remove it. I knew this, but I was neither willing nor able; all the more so because, in my thoughts of You, You were not anything solid or substantial to me. For You were not Yourself, but an empty phantom, and my error was my god. If I tried to unload my burden there, so it might find rest, it sank into emptiness and came rushing back down upon me, and I remained to myself a miserable place where I could neither stay nor leave. For where could my heart flee from my heart? Where could I flee from my own self? Where could I go and not follow myself? And yet I fled from my country; for in this way my eyes would look less for him where they were not accustomed to seeing him. And so I left the town of Thagaste and came to Carthage.

12. O madness, which know not how to love men as men should be loved! O foolish man that I then was, enduring with so much impatience the lot of man! So I fretted, sighed, wept, tormented myself, and took neither rest nor advice. For I bore about with me a rent and polluted soul, impatient of being borne by me, and where to repose it I found not. Not in pleasant groves, not in sport or song, not in fragrant spots, nor in magnificent banquetings, nor in the pleasures of the bed and the couch, nor, finally, in books and songs did it find repose. All things looked terrible, even the very light itself; and whatsoever was not what he was, was repulsive and hateful, except groans and tears, for in those alone found I a little repose. But when my soul was withdrawn from them, a heavy burden of misery weighed me down. To You, O Lord, should it have been raised, for You to lighten and avert it. This I knew, but was neither willing nor able; all the more since, in my thoughts of You, You were not any solid or substantial thing to me. For You were not Yourself, but an empty phantasm, and my error was my god. If I attempted to discharge my burden thereon, that it might find rest, it sank into emptiness, and came rushing down again upon me, and I remained to myself an unhappy spot, where I could neither stay nor depart from. For whither could my heart fly from my heart? Whither could I fly from my own self? Whither not follow myself? And yet fled I from my country; for so should my eyes look less for him where they were not accustomed to see him. And thus I left the town of Thagaste, and came to Carthage.

Time doesn't waste any time, and it doesn't just pass uselessly through our awareness. Time works remarkable changes in the mind. Look, days came and went, and through their coming and going, they planted in my mind different thoughts and different memories. Little by little, they rebuilt me with the same kinds of pleasures I had before, and my grief gradually gave way to them. What followed wasn't exactly new sorrows, but rather the causes of new sorrows. Why had that earlier sorrow pierced me so deeply? Because I had poured out my soul onto dust by loving someone who would die as though he would never die. But what especially revived and refreshed me was the comfort of other friends, with whom I loved what I loved instead of You. This was a monstrous fiction and an endless lie, and through its corrupting influence, our soul—which had an itching in our ears—was being defiled. But this fiction didn't die for me whenever one of my friends died. There were other things about them that captured my mind more strongly: talking and joking with them; exchanging acts of kindness; reading enjoyable books together; fooling around together and being serious together; disagreeing sometimes without hard feelings, just as someone might disagree with himself; and through the rarity of these disagreements, making our much more frequent agreements all the sweeter; sometimes teaching, sometimes learning; missing absent friends impatiently and welcoming their return with joy. These and similar expressions, flowing from the hearts of those who loved and were loved in return—through facial expressions, words, looks, and a thousand pleasant gestures—were like fuel melting our souls together, making one soul out of many.

13. Times lose no time, nor do they idly roll through our senses. They work strange operations on the mind. Behold, they came and went from day to day, and by coming and going they disseminated in my mind other ideas and other remembrances, and little by little patched me up again with the former kind of delights, unto which that sorrow of mine yielded. But yet there succeeded, not certainly other sorrows, yet the causes of other sorrows. For whence had that former sorrow so easily penetrated to the quick, but that I had poured out my soul upon the dust, in loving one who must die as if he were never to die? But what revived and refreshed me especially was the consolations of other friends, with whom I did love what instead of You I loved. And this was a monstrous fable and protracted lie, by whose adulterous contact our soul, which lay itching in our ears, was being polluted. But that fable would not die to me so oft as any of my friends died. There were other things in them which did more lay hold of my mind — to discourse and jest with them; to indulge in an interchange of kindnesses; to read together pleasant books; together to trifle, and together to be earnest; to differ at times without ill-humour, as a man would do with his own self; and even by the infrequency of these differences to give zest to our more frequent consentings; sometimes teaching, sometimes being taught; longing for the absent with impatience, and welcoming the coming with joy. These and similar expressions, emanating from the hearts of those who loved and were beloved in return, by the countenance, the tongue, the eyes, and a thousand pleasing movements, were so much fuel to melt our souls together, and out of many to make but one.

This is what is loved in friends. We love it so much that our conscience condemns us if we do not love those who love us, or if we do not return the love of those who love us—even when we expect nothing from them except signs of their love. This is why we mourn when someone dies: the darkness of sorrow, the heart drowning in tears, all sweetness turned to bitterness, and when the dying person loses life, the living person experiences death. Blessed is the one who loves You, who loves his friend in You, and who loves his enemy for Your sake. For such a person never loses anyone dear to him, since everyone is dear to him in the One who cannot be lost. And who is this One except our God, the God who created heaven and earth and fills them, because He created them by filling them? No one loses You except the one who abandons You. And when someone abandons You, where does he go or where does he flee, except from You when You are pleased to You when You are angry? For where does he not find Your law present in his own punishment? And Your law is the truth, and You are truth.

14. This is it that is loved in friends; and so loved that a man's conscience accuses itself if he love not him by whom he is beloved, or love not again him that loves him, expecting nothing from him but indications of his love. Hence that mourning if one die, and gloom of sorrow, that steeping of the heart in tears, all sweetness turned into bitterness, and upon the loss of the life of the dying, the death of the living. Blessed be he who loves You, and his friend in You, and his enemy for Your sake. For he alone loses none dear to him to whom all are dear in Him who cannot be lost. And who is this but our God, the God that created heaven and earth, Genesis 1:1 and fills them, Jeremiah 23:24 because by filling them He created them? None loses You but he who leaves You. And he who leaves You, whither goes he, or whither flees he, but from You well pleased to You angry? For where does not he find Your law in his own punishment? And Your law is the truth, and truth Thou. John 14:6

Turn us back again, Lord God of Hosts, let Your face shine on us, and we will be saved. Wherever the human soul turns, unless it turns toward You, it becomes stuck in sorrows—even when it attaches itself to beautiful things that exist apart from You and apart from itself. Yet these beautiful things would not exist at all unless they came from You. They rise and set; by rising, they begin to exist, so to speak, and they grow so they can reach completion. When they are complete, they grow old and die. Not everything grows old, but everything dies. So when things rise and begin to exist, the faster they grow toward being complete, the faster they rush toward non-existence. This is their nature. This is all You have given them, because they are parts of things that do not all exist at the same time. Instead, by departing and following one another, they together make up the universe of which they are parts. Our speech works the same way, accomplished through signs that produce sound. But speech is only completed when one word passes away after it has sounded its part, so that another word can follow it. Let my soul praise You for all these things, O God, Creator of all. But do not let my soul become glued to these things by love, through the body's senses. For they go where they were meant to go, so they would no longer exist, and they tear at the soul with destructive desires, because the soul longs to exist and yet loves to rest in what it loves. But in these things there is no resting place—they do not stay, they flee. And who can follow them with physical senses? Or who can grasp them even when they are close by? For the physical senses are slow, because they are merely physical senses, and their limit is themselves. They are adequate for what they were made to do, but they are not sufficient to stop things that are running their course from their appointed beginning to their appointed end. For in Your word, by which they were created, they hear the command: from here to there, and no further.

15. Turn us again, O Lord God of Hosts, cause Your face to shine; and we shall be saved. For wherever the soul of man turns itself, unless towards You, it is affixed to sorrows, yea, though it is affixed to beauteous things without You and without itself. And yet they were not unless they were from You. They rise and set; and by rising, they begin as it were to be; and they grow, that they may become perfect; and when perfect, they wax old and perish; and all wax not old, but all perish. Therefore when they rise and tend to be, the more rapidly they grow that they may be, so much the more they hasten not to be. This is the way of them. Thus much have You given them, because they are parts of things, which exist not all at the same time, but by departing and succeeding they together make up the universe, of which they are parts. And even thus is our speech accomplished by signs emitting a sound; but this, again, is not perfected unless one word pass away when it has sounded its part, in order that another may succeed it. Let my soul praise You out of all these things, O God, the Creator of all; but let not my soul be affixed to these things by the glue of love, through the senses of the body. For they go whither they were to go, that they might no longer be; and they rend her with pestilent desires, because she longs to be, and yet loves to rest in what she loves. But in these things no place is to be found; they stay not — they flee; and who is he that is able to follow them with the senses of the flesh? Or who can grasp them, even when they are near? For tardy is the sense of the flesh, because it is the sense of the flesh, and its boundary is itself. It suffices for that for which it was made, but it is not sufficient to stay things running their course from their appointed starting-place to the end appointed. For in Your word, by which they were created, they hear the fiat, Hence and hitherto.

Do not be foolish, my soul, and do not deafen the ear of your heart with the noise of your foolishness. Listen carefully. The Word itself calls you to return, and there is the place of unshakable rest, where love is not forsaken unless it itself does the forsaking. Look, these things pass away so that others may replace them, and in this way the lower world is completed in all its parts. But do I go anywhere, says the Word of God? Fix your dwelling there. Entrust to that place whatever you have received from there, my soul; surely by now you are exhausted by deceptions. Entrust to Truth whatever you have received from the Truth, and you will lose nothing. Your decay will bloom again, all your sicknesses will be healed, and your mortal parts will be reshaped and renewed and gathered back to you. They will not drag you down to where they themselves are descending, but will remain with you and endure forever before God, who remains and endures forever.

16. Be not foolish, O my soul, and deaden not the ear of your heart with the tumult of your folly. Hearken also. The word itself invokes you to return; and there is the place of rest imperturbable, where love is not abandoned if itself abandons not. Behold, these things pass away, that others may succeed them, and so this lower universe be made complete in all its parts. But do I depart anywhere, says the word of God? There fix your habitation. There commit whatsoever you have thence, O my soul; at all events now you are tired out with deceits. Commit to truth whatsoever you have from the truth, and nothing shall you lose; and your decay shall flourish again, and all your diseases be healed, and your perishable parts shall be reformed and renovated, and drawn together to you; nor shall they put you down where themselves descend, but they shall abide with you, and continue for ever before God, who abides and continues forever. 1 Peter 1:23

Why, then, be stubborn and follow your flesh? Instead, let your flesh be converted and follow you. Whatever you experience through your flesh is only partial, and you are ignorant of the whole of which these things are parts, yet they still delight you. But if your bodily senses were capable of grasping the whole, and had not themselves been justly limited to a portion of the whole as punishment, you would want whatever exists in the present moment to pass away so that the whole might please you more. For whatever we speak, you also hear through that same bodily sense, and yet you would not want the syllables to remain, but rather to fly away so that others may come and the whole be heard. This is always the case when any single thing is composed of many parts that do not all exist at the same time—all of them together would delight more than they do individually if all could be perceived at once. But far better than these things is He who made all. He is our God, and He does not pass away, for there is nothing to succeed Him. If physical things please you, praise God for them and turn your love back toward their Creator, lest in those things that please you, you displease Him.

17. Why, then, be perverse and follow your flesh? Rather let it be converted and follow you. Whatever by her you feel, is but in part; and the whole, of which these are portions, you are ignorant of, and yet they delight you. But had the sense of your flesh been capable of comprehending the whole, and not itself also, for your punishment, been justly limited to a portion of the whole, you would that whatsoever exists at the present time should pass away, that so the whole might please you more. For what we speak, also by the same sense of the flesh you hear, and yet wouldest not thou that the syllables should stay, but fly away, that others may come, and the whole be heard. Thus it is always, when any single thing is composed of many, all of which exist not together, all together would delight more than they do simply could all be perceived at once. But far better than these is He who made all; and He is our God, and He passes not away, for there is nothing to succeed Him. If bodies please you, praise God for them, and turn back your love upon their Creator, lest in those things which please you you displease.

If you find souls pleasing, love them in God, because they too can change, but in Him they are firmly established. Otherwise they would pass away and perish. So love them in Him, and bring as many souls as you can to Him along with you, and say to them: Let us love Him, let us love Him. He made these things, and He is not far away. For He did not create them and then leave. Rather, they come from Him and exist in Him. Look, He is wherever truth is known. He is within the very heart itself, yet the heart has wandered away from Him. Return to your heart, you transgressors, and hold fast to Him who made you. Stand with Him, and you will stand firm. Rest in Him, and you will be at rest. Where are you going on these rough paths? Where are you going? The good that you love comes from Him. And insofar as it relates to Him, it is both good and pleasant. But it will justly become bitter, because whatever comes from Him is wrongly loved if He is abandoned for its sake. Why, then, do you keep wandering farther and farther down these difficult and exhausting paths? There is no rest where you are looking for it. Seek what you seek, but it is not there where you are looking. You seek a blessed life in the land of death. It is not there. For how could there be a blessed life where life itself does not exist?

18. If souls please you, let them be loved in God; for they also are mutable, but in Him are they firmly established, else would they pass, and pass away. In Him, then, let them be beloved; and draw unto Him along with you as many souls as you can and say to them, Him let us love, Him let us love; He created these, nor is He far off. For He did not create them, and then depart; but they are of Him, and in Him. Behold, there is He wherever truth is known. He is within the very heart, but yet has the heart wandered from Him. Return to your heart, O you transgressors, Isaiah 56:8 and cleave fast unto Him that made you. Stand with Him, and you shall stand fast. Rest in Him, and you shall be at rest. Where do you go in rugged paths? Where do you go? The good that you love is from Him; and as it has respect unto Him it is both good and pleasant, and justly shall it be embittered, because whatsoever comes from Him is unjustly loved if He be forsaken for it. Why, then, will you wander farther and farther in these difficult and toilsome ways? There is no rest where you seek it. Seek what you seek; but it is not there where you seek. You seek a blessed life in the land of death; it is not there. For could a blessed life be where life itself is not?

But our very Life came down to us, and carried our death, and killed it with the abundance of His own life. He called out to us like thunder, summoning us to return from here to Him into that hidden place from which He came to us—first into the Virgin's womb, where our human nature was united to Him, our mortal flesh, so that it would not remain mortal forever. And from there He came like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, rejoicing like a strong man ready to run a race. He did not delay but ran calling out to us by His words, deeds, death, life, descent, and ascension—calling out loudly to us to return to Him. He left our sight so that we might return to our own hearts and find Him there. He departed, yet look, He is here. He did not want to stay with us for long, yet He did not abandon us. He departed to that place from which He never departed, because the world was made by Him. He was in this world, and He came into this world to save sinners, to whom my soul confesses so that He may heal it, for it has sinned against Him. You sons of men, how long will you be slow of heart? Even now, after Life itself has come down to you, will you not ascend and live? But where will you ascend when you are already on high and set your mouth against the heavens? Descend so that you may ascend, and ascend to God. For you have fallen by trying to ascend against Him. Tell them this so that they may weep in the valley of tears, and in this way bring them with you to God, because it is by His Spirit that you speak to them this way, if you speak burning with the fire of love.

19. But our very Life descended hither, and bore our death, and slew it, out of the abundance of His own life; and thundering He called loudly to us to return hence to Him into that secret place whence He came forth to us — first into the Virgin's womb, where the human creature was married to Him — our mortal flesh, that it might not be for ever mortal — and thence as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race. For He tarried not, but ran crying out by words, deeds, death, life, descent, ascension, crying aloud to us to return to Him. And He departed from our sight, that we might return to our heart, and there find Him. For He departed, and behold, He is here. He would not be long with us, yet left us not; for He departed there, whence He never departed, because the world was made by Him. John 1:10 And in this world He was, and into this world He came to save sinners, 1 Timothy 1:15 unto whom my soul does confess, that He may heal it, for it has sinned against Him. O you sons of men, how long so slow of heart? Luke 24:25 Even now, after the Life is descended to you, will you not ascend and live? But where do you ascend, when you are on high, and set your mouth against the heavens? Descend that you may ascend, and ascend to God. For you have fallen by ascending against Him. Tell them this, that they may weep in the valley of tears, and so draw them with you to God, because it is by His Spirit that you speak thus unto them, if you speak burning with the fire of love.

These things I did not know at that time, and I loved these lower beauties, and I was sinking to the very depths. I said to my friends, "Do we love anything except what is beautiful? What, then, is the beautiful? And what is beauty? What is it that attracts and draws us to the things we love? For unless there were a grace and beauty in them, they could in no way draw us to them." I noticed and realized that in physical bodies themselves there was a beauty that comes from their forming a kind of whole, and another beauty that comes from how parts fit together properly—like one part of the body with its whole, or a shoe with a foot, and so on. This insight arose in my mind from the depths of my heart, and I wrote books (two or three, I think) on the beautiful and the fitting. You know about this, O Lord, for it has slipped my memory; I no longer have them, but they have been lost from me, I do not know how.

20. These things I knew not at that time, and I loved these lower beauties, and I was sinking to the very depths; and I said to my friends, Do we love anything but the beautiful? What, then, is the beautiful? And what is beauty? What is it that allures and unites us to the things we love; for unless there were a grace and beauty in them, they could by no means attract us to them? And I marked and perceived that in bodies themselves there was a beauty from their forming a kind of whole, and another from mutual fitness, as one part of the body with its whole, or a shoe with a foot, and so on. And this consideration sprang up in my mind out of the recesses of my heart, and I wrote books (two or three, I think) on the fair and fit. You know, O Lord, for it has escaped me; for I have them not, but they have strayed from me, I know not how.

But what prompted me, O Lord my God, to dedicate these books to Hierius, a Roman orator whom I had never met face to face, but whom I loved because of his reputation for learning, which was well known, and because of some of his words that I had heard and that pleased me? But he pleased me even more because he pleased others, who praised him highly and were amazed that a native of Syria, first trained in Greek eloquence, should later become an outstanding Latin orator and someone so well versed in studies related to wisdom. In this way a man is praised and loved even when he is absent. Does this love enter the heart of the hearer from the mouth of the one who praises him? No. Rather, one person who loves kindles love in another. For this reason, a person who is praised is loved when the one praising him is believed to speak from a sincere heart—that is, when the one who loves him also praises him.

21. But what was it that prompted me, O Lord my God, to dedicate these books to Hierius, an orator of Rome, whom I knew not by sight, but loved the man for the fame of his learning, for which he was renowned, and some words of his which I had heard, and which had pleased me? But the more did he please me in that he pleased others, who highly extolled him, astonished that a native of Syria, instructed first in Greek eloquence, should afterwards become a wonderful Latin orator, and one so well versed in studies pertaining unto wisdom. Thus a man is commended and loved when absent. Does this love enter into the heart of the hearer from the mouth of the commender? Not so. But through one who loves is another inflamed. For hence he is loved who is commended when the commender is believed to praise him with an unfeigned heart; that is, when he that loves him praises him.

So I loved people based on the judgment of other people, not on yours, O my God, in which no one is deceived. But why didn't I love them in the same way people admire a famous chariot racer or a widely known huntsman celebrated by popular fame? Instead, my love was different and more serious, like the way I would want to be admired myself. For I wouldn't want people to praise and love me the way they do actors—even though I myself praised and loved actors—but I would rather be unknown than known in that way, and even hated rather than loved like that. How is it that these influences of so many different kinds of loves are distributed within one soul? What is it that I love in another person, which if I didn't hate it, I wouldn't reject and push away from myself, since we are both equally human? For it doesn't follow that because a good horse is loved by someone who wouldn't want to be that horse himself, even if he could, the same should be said of an actor who shares our human nature. Do I then love in another man something that I, being a man myself, hate to be? Man himself is a great deep, whose very hairs you number, O Lord, and they do not fall to the ground without you. And yet the hairs of his head are more easily numbered than his affections and the movements of his heart.

22. Thus, then, loved I men upon the judgment of men, not upon Yours, O my God, in which no man is deceived. But yet why not as the renowned charioteer, as the huntsman known far and wide by a vulgar popularity — but far otherwise, and seriously, and so as I would desire to be myself commended? For I would not that they should commend and love me as actors are — although I myself did commend and love them — but I would prefer being unknown than so known, and even being hated than so loved. Where now are these influences of such various and various kinds of loves distributed in one soul? What is it that I am in love with in another, which, if I did not hate, I should not detest and repel from myself, seeing we are equally men? For it does not follow that because a good horse is loved by him who would not, though he might, be that horse, the same should therefore be affirmed by an actor, who partakes of our nature. Do I then love in a man that which I, who am a man, hate to be? Man himself is a great deep, whose very hairs You number, O Lord, and they fall not to the ground without You. Matthew 10:29-30 And yet are the hairs of his head more readily numbered than are his affections and the movements of his heart.

But that orator was the kind I loved in the way that I wished to be such a person myself. I was wrong through inflated pride and was carried about with every wind, but You were still guiding me, though very secretly. How do I know, and how can I confidently confess to You, that I loved him more because of the love of those who praised him than for the actual things they praised him for? Because if he had been unpraised, and these same men had criticized him instead, and with criticism and scorn had said the same things about him, I would never have been so inflamed and stirred up to love him. Yet the facts would not have been different, nor would he himself have been different—only the feelings of those telling the story. See where the weak soul lies that is not yet supported by the solid foundation of truth! Just as the blasts of tongues blow from the chests of those making guesses, so it is tossed this way and that, driven forward and backward, and the light is obscured from it and the truth is not perceived. And look, it is right before us. And for me it was a great matter that my writing and intellectual work should be known to that man. If he approved them, I would have been even more excited, but if he disapproved, this vain heart of mine, empty of Your solid foundation, would have been wounded. And yet that fair and fit, about which I wrote to him, I reflected on with pleasure and contemplated it and admired it, even though no one joined me in doing so.

23. But that orator was of the kind that I so loved as I wished myself to be such a one; and I erred through an inflated pride, and was carried about with every wind, Ephesians 4:14 but yet was piloted by You, though very secretly. And whence know I, and whence confidently confess I unto You that I loved him more because of the love of those who praised him, than for the very things for which they praised him? Because had he been upraised, and these self-same men had dispraised him, and with dispraise and scorn told the same things of him, I should never have been so inflamed and provoked to love him. And yet the things had not been different, nor he himself different, but only the affections of the narrators. See where lies the impotent soul that is not yet sustained by the solidity of truth! Just as the blasts of tongues blow from the breasts of conjecturers, so is it tossed this way and that, driven forward and backward, and the light is obscured to it and the truth not perceived. And behold it is before us. And to me it was a great matter that my style and studies should be known to that man; the which if he approved, I were the more stimulated, but if he disapproved, this vain heart of mine, void of Your solidity, had been offended. And yet that fair and fit, about which I wrote to him, I reflected on with pleasure, and contemplated it, and admired it, though none joined me in doing so.

But I still did not understand the pivotal point on which this important matter turned in Your wisdom, O Almighty One, who alone performs great wonders. My mind wandered through physical forms, and I defined and distinguished between what is beautiful in itself and what is fitting because it corresponds to something else. I supported this reasoning with physical examples. Then I directed my attention to the nature of the mind, but the false beliefs I held about spiritual things prevented me from seeing the truth. Yet the very power of truth forced itself upon my vision, and I turned my throbbing soul away from non-physical substance toward outlines, colors, and large physical dimensions. Since I could not perceive these things in the mind, I thought I could not perceive my mind at all. And while I loved peace in virtue and hated discord in vice, I recognized unity in the former but saw a kind of division in the latter. In that unity I imagined that the rational soul, the nature of truth, and the highest good resided. But in this division I, poor wretch, imagined there existed some kind of substance of irrational life and the nature of the highest evil, which was not only a substance but also actual life, yet did not come from You, O my God, from whom all things come. I called the first a Monad, as if it were a soul without gender, but the other a Duad—anger in violent actions, lust in passionate actions—not understanding what I was talking about. For I had not known or learned that evil is not a substance, nor is our soul that highest and unchangeable good.

24. But not yet did I perceive the hinge on which this impotent matter turned in Your wisdom, O Thou Omnipotent, who alone does great wonders; and my mind ranged through corporeal forms, and I defined and distinguished as fair, that which is so in itself, and fit, that which is beautiful as it corresponds to some other thing; and this I supported by corporeal examples. And I turned my attention to the nature of the mind, but the false opinions which I entertained of spiritual things prevented me from seeing the truth. Yet the very power of truth forced itself on my gaze, and I turned away my throbbing soul from incorporeal substance, to lineaments, and colors, and bulky magnitudes. And not being able to perceive these in the mind, I thought I could not perceive my mind. And whereas in virtue I loved peace, and in viciousness I hated discord, in the former I distinguished unity, but in the latter a kind of division. And in that unity I conceived the rational soul and the nature of truth and of the chief good to consist. But in this division I, unfortunate one, imagined there was I know not what substance of irrational life, and the nature of the chief evil, which should not be a substance only, but real life also, and yet not emanating from You, O my God, from whom are all things. And yet the first I called a Monad, as if it had been a soul without sex, but the other a Duad — anger in deeds of violence, in deeds of passion, lust — not knowing of what I talked. For I had not known or learned that neither was evil a substance, nor our soul that chief and unchangeable good.

Just as acts of violence occur when the emotion in the soul that drives the impulse is corrupt and behaves arrogantly and rebelliously, and just as passionate acts occur when the soul's capacity to take in physical pleasures is uncontrolled, so too do errors and false opinions poison one's life when the rational soul itself is corrupt. This was my condition at that time, when I did not understand that my soul needed to be lit by another light in order to share in truth, since the soul itself is not the nature of truth. For You will light my lamp; the Lord my God will enlighten my darkness, and from His fullness we have all received, for that was the true Light which gives light to every person who comes into the world, for in You there is no change or shifting shadow.

25. For even as it is in the case of deeds of violence, if that emotion of the soul from whence the stimulus comes be depraved, and carry itself insolently and mutinously; and in acts of passion, if that affection of the soul whereby carnal pleasures are imbibed is unrestrained — so do errors and false opinions contaminate the life, if the reasonable soul itself be depraved, as it was at that time in me, who was ignorant that it must be enlightened by another light that it may be partaker of truth, seeing that itself is not that nature of truth. For You will light my candle; the Lord my God will enlighten my darkness; and of His fullness have all we received, John 1:16 for that was the true Light which lighted every man that comes into the world; John 1:9 for in You there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. James 1:17

I pressed toward You, but You pushed me away so that I might taste death, for You resist the proud. But what could be more proud than for me, with astounding madness, to claim that by nature I was what You are? For though I was changeable—this much was clear to me, since my very desire to become wise came from wanting to improve from worse to better—I still chose to think that You were changeable rather than accept that I was not what You are. Therefore You pushed me away and resisted my stubborn, changeable nature. I imagined physical forms, and being flesh myself, I blamed the flesh. Being a wind that passes away, I did not return to You but kept wandering on toward things that have no existence—not in You, not in me, not in the body. These things were not created for me by Your truth but were dreamed up by my empty imagination from physical things. I used to ask Your faithful little ones, my fellow citizens—from whom I unknowingly lived in exile—I used to ask flippantly and foolishly, "Why does the soul that God created go astray?" But I would not let anyone ask me, "Why does God go astray?" I argued that Your unchangeable substance erred by compulsion rather than admit that my changeable substance had gone astray by free will and erred as a punishment.

26. But I pressed towards You, and was repelled by You that I might taste of death, for You resist the proud. But what prouder than for me, with a marvellous madness, to assert myself to be that by nature which You are? For whereas I was mutable — so much being clear to me, for my very longing to become wise arose from the wish from worse to become better — yet chose I rather to think You mutable, than myself not to be that which You are. Therefore was I repelled by You, and You resisted my changeable stiffneckedness; and I imagined corporeal forms, and, being flesh, I accused flesh, and, being a wind that passes away, I returned not to You, but went wandering and wandering on towards those things that have no being, neither in You, nor in me, nor in the body. Neither were they created for me by Your truth, but conceived by my vain conceit out of corporeal things. And I used to ask Your faithful little ones, my fellow-citizens — from whom I unconsciously stood exiled — I used flippantly and foolishly to ask, Why, then, does the soul which God created err? But I would not permit any one to ask me, Why, then, does God err? And I contended that Your immutable substance erred of constraint, rather than admit that my mutable substance had gone astray of free will, and erred as a punishment.

I was about twenty-six or twenty-seven years old when I wrote those books, absorbed in physical images that clamored loudly in my heart's ear. I directed these thoughts toward your inner melody, sweet Truth, thinking about what is beautiful and fitting, and longing to remain still and listen to you, and to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom's voice, but I could not. I was driven out by the voices of my own errors, and I was sinking into the deepest pit because of the weight of my own pride. You did not let me hear joy and gladness, nor did my bones, which were not yet humbled, rejoice.

27. I was about six or seven and twenty years of age when I wrote those volumes — meditating upon corporeal fictions, which clamoured in the ears of my heart. These I directed, O sweet Truth, to Your inward melody, pondering on the fair and fit, and longing to stay and listen to You, and to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom's voice, John 3:29 and I could not; for by the voices of my own errors was I driven forth, and by the weight of my own pride was I sinking into the lowest pit. For You did not make me to hear joy and gladness; nor did the bones which were not yet humbled rejoice.

What good did it do me that, when I was barely twenty years old, I got hold of a book by Aristotle called The Ten Categories? I was impressed by the very title as if it were something great and divine, especially when my rhetoric teacher in Carthage and others who were considered learned referred to it with puffed-up pride. I read it on my own and understood it. When I discussed it with others, they said that even with the help of very skilled teachers—who not only explained it verbally but drew diagrams in the dust—they barely understood it and couldn't tell me anything more than I had learned by reading it alone. The book seemed to me to speak quite clearly about substances, such as a human being, and about their qualities—such as a person's appearance and what kind it is, and his height and how many feet tall, and his relationships and whose brother he is, or where he is located, or when he was born, or whether he is standing or sitting, or wearing shoes or armor, or doing or experiencing something. It covered countless things that could be classified under these nine categories—of which I have given some examples—or under that primary category of substance.

28. And what did it profit me that, when scarce twenty years old, a book of Aristotle's, entitled The Ten Predicaments, fell into my hands — on whose very name I hung as on something great and divine, when my rhetoric master of Carthage, and others who were esteemed learned, referred to it with cheeks swelling with pride — I read it alone and understood it? And on my conferring with others, who said that with the assistance of very able masters — who not only explained it orally, but drew many things in the dust — they scarcely understood it, and could tell me no more about it than I had acquired in reading it by myself alone? And the book appeared to me to speak plainly enough of substances, such as man is, and of their qualities, — such as the figure of a man, of what kind it is; and his stature, how many feet high; and his relationship, whose brother he is; or where placed, or when born; or whether he stands or sits, or is shod or armed, or does or suffers anything; and whatever innumerable things might be classed under these nine categories, — of which I have given some examples — or under that chief category of substance.

What good did all this do me? In fact, it actually harmed me. I assumed that everything that exists could be classified under those ten categories, and I tried to understand you, my God, with your wonderful and unchangeable unity, as if you too were subject to your own greatness or beauty—as if these existed in you as in a subject, the way they do in physical bodies. But you yourself are your own greatness and beauty. A physical body is not great or beautiful simply because it is a body, since even if it were less great or beautiful, it would still be a body. What I had conceived about you was false, not true—these were fictions born of my wretchedness, not supports for your blessedness. For you had commanded, and it was accomplished in me, that the earth should bring forth briars and thorns for me, and that I should get my bread with labor.

29. What did all this profit me, seeing it even hindered me, when, imagining that whatsoever existed was comprehended in those ten categories, I tried so to understand, O my God, Your wonderful and unchangeable unity as if Thou also had been subjected to Your own greatness or beauty, so that they should exist in You as their subject, like as in bodies, whereas You Yourself art Your greatness and beauty? But a body is not great or fair because it is a body, seeing that, though it were less great or fair, it should nevertheless be a body. But that which I had conceived of You was falsehood, not truth — fictions of my misery, not the supports of Your blessedness. For You had commanded, and it was done in me, that the earth should bring forth briars and thorns to me, Isaiah 32:13 and that with labour I should get my bread. Genesis 3:19

What good did it do me that I—a worthless slave to disgraceful desires—read on my own and understood all the books I could get my hands on that dealt with the so-called liberal arts? I delighted in them, but I had no idea where the truth and certainty in them came from. My back was turned toward the light, and my face was turned toward the things that were lit up by that light. So while my face perceived the illuminated things, it was not itself illuminated. Whether the books were about rhetoric, logic, geometry, music, or arithmetic, I understood them without much difficulty and without anyone teaching me, as You know, O Lord my God, because both quickness of understanding and sharpness of insight are Your gifts. Yet I did not offer any sacrifice of thanks to You for these abilities. Therefore, they did not serve my good but rather led to my ruin, since I tried to bring such a valuable portion of my inheritance under my own control. I did not preserve my strength for You, but instead went away from You into a distant country to squander it on prostitutes. What good were my talents if I did not use them for good purposes? I never realized that these disciplines were learned with great difficulty even by dedicated students and those naturally gifted, until I tried to teach them to others. The student who was most skilled in these subjects was the one who could follow my explanations without falling too far behind.

30. And what did it profit me that I, the base slave of vile affections, read unaided, and understood, all the books that I could get of the so-called liberal arts? And I took delight in them, but knew not whence came whatever in them was true and certain. For my back then was to the light, and my face towards the things enlightened; whence my face, with which I discerned the things enlightened, was not itself enlightened. Whatever was written either on rhetoric or logic, geometry, music, or arithmetic, did I, without any great difficulty, and without the teaching of any man, understand, as You know, O Lord my God, because both quickness of comprehension and acuteness of perception are Your gifts. Yet did I not thereupon sacrifice to You. So, then, it served not to my use, but rather to my destruction, since I went about to get so good a portion of my substance Luke 15:12 into my own power; and I kept not my strength for You, but went away from You into a far country, to waste it upon harlotries. Luke 15:13 For what did good abilities profit me, if I did not employ them to good uses? For I did not perceive that those arts were acquired with great difficulty, even by the studious and those gifted with genius, until I endeavoured to explain them to such; and he was the most proficient in them who followed my explanations not too slowly.

But what good did this do me, thinking that You, O Lord God, the Truth, were a bright and vast body, and that I was a piece of that body? This perverseness was too great! Yet that is what I was. I am not ashamed now, my God, to confess to You Your mercies toward me and to call upon You—I who was not ashamed back then to declare my blasphemies before other people and to bark against You. What good did my quick mind do me then in those studies and all those difficult books that I unraveled by myself without help from any human teacher, when I was so horribly wrong and so sacrilegiously base in the doctrine of piety? Or what hindrance was it to Your little ones to have a much slower mind, since they did not wander far from You, so that in the nest of Your Church they might safely grow their feathers and nourish the wings of charity by the food of a sound faith? O Lord our God, let us hope under the shadow of Your wings, defend us, and carry us. You will carry us both when we are small and even to gray hairs You will carry us, for our strength, when it is You, is true strength; but when it is our own, it is weakness. Our good always lives with You, and when we turn away from it we are perverted. Let us now, O Lord, return, so that we are not overturned, because our good lives with You without any eclipse, and that good is You Yourself. And we need not fear that we will find no place to which we can return because we fell away from it; for when we were absent, our home—Your Eternity—did not fall.

31. But what did this profit me, supposing that Thou, O Lord God, the Truth, were a bright and vast body, and I a piece of that body? Perverseness too great! But such was I. Nor do I blush, O my God, to confess to You Your mercies towards me, and to call upon You — I, who blushed not then to avow before men my blasphemies, and to bark against You. What profited me then my nimble wit in those sciences and all those knotty volumes, disentangled by me without help from a human master, seeing that I erred so odiously, and with such sacrilegious baseness, in the doctrine of piety? Or what impediment was it to Your little ones to have a far slower wit, seeing that they departed not far from You, that in the nest of Your Church they might safely become fledged, and nourish the wings of charity by the food of a sound faith? O Lord our God, under the shadow of Your wings let us hope, defend us, and carry us. You will carry us both when little, and even to grey hairs will You carry us; Isaiah 46:4 for our firmness, when it is Thou, then is it firmness; but when it is our own, then it is infirmity. Our good lives always with You, from which when we are averted we are perverted. Let us now, O Lord, return, that we be not overturned, because with You our good lives without any eclipse, which good You Yourself art. And we need not fear lest we should find no place unto which to return because we fell away from it; for when we were absent, our home — Your Eternity — fell not.