Not finding my manner of life in books, although I have no difficulty about it, yet, for greater security, I shall be glad to know your thoughts concerning it.
In a conversation some days since with a person of piety, he told me the spiritual life was a life of grace, which begins with servile fear, which is increased by hope of eternal life, and which is consummated by pure love. That each of these states had its different stages, by which one arrives at last at that blessed consummation.
I have not followed all these methods. On the contrary, from I know not what instincts, I found they discouraged me. This was the reason why, at my entrance into religion, I took a resolution to give myself up to G.o.d, as the best return I could make for His love; and, for the love of Him, to renounce all besides.
For the first year I commonly employed myself during the time set apart for devotion with the thought of death, judgment, heaven, h.e.l.l, and my sins, Thus continued some years, applying my mind carefully the rest of the day, and even in the midst of my business, _to the presence of_ G.o.d, whom I considered always as _with_ me, often as _in_ me.
At length I came insensibly to do the same thing during my set time of prayer, which caused in me great delight and consolation. This practice produced in me so high an esteem for G.o.d, that _faith_ alone was capable to satisfy me in that point.[3]
Such was my beginning; and yet I must tell you that for the first ten years I suffered much: the apprehension that I was not devoted to G.o.d as I wished to be, my past sins always present to my mind, and the great unmerited favors which G.o.d did me, were the matter and source of my sufferings. During this time I fell often, and rose again presently. It seemed to me that all creatures, reason, and G.o.d Himself were against me; and _faith_ alone for me. I was troubled sometimes with thoughts that to believe I had received such favors was an effect of my presumption, which pretended to be _at once_ where others arrive with difficulty; at other times that it was a wilful delusion, and that there was no salvation for me.
When I thought of nothing but to end my days in these troubles (which did not at all diminish the trust I had in G.o.d, and which served only to increase my faith), I found myself changed all at once; and my soul, which, till that time, was in trouble, felt a profound inward peace, as if she were in her centre and place of rest.
Ever since that time I walk before G.o.d simply, in faith, with humility and with love; and I apply myself diligently to do nothing and think nothing which may displease Him. I hope that when I have done what I can, He will do with me what He pleases.
As for what pa.s.ses in me at present, I cannot express it. I have no pain or difficulty about my state, because I have no will but that of G.o.d, which I endeavor to accomplish in all things, and to which I am so resigned that I would not take up a straw from the ground against His order, or from any other motive than purely that of love to Him.
I have quitted all forms of devotion and set prayers but those to which my state obliges me. And I make it my business only to persevere in His holy presence, wherein I keep myself by a simple attention, and a general fond regard to G.o.d, which I may call an _actual presence of_ G.o.d; or, to speak better, an habitual, silent and secret conversation of the soul with G.o.d, which often causes me joys and raptures inwardly, and sometimes also outwardly, so great, that I am forced to use means to moderate them and prevent their appearance to others.
In short, I am a.s.sured beyond all doubt that my soul has been with G.o.d above these thirty years. I pa.s.s over many things that I may not be tedious to you, yet I think it proper to inform you after what manner I consider myself before G.o.d, whom I behold as my King.
I consider myself as the most wretched of men, full of sores and corruption, and who has committed all sorts of crimes against his King; touched with a sensible regret, I confess to him all my wickedness, I ask His forgiveness, I abandon myself in His hands that He may do what he pleases with me. The King, full of mercy and goodness, very far from chastising me, embraces me with love, makes me eat at His table, serves me with His own hands, gives me the key of His treasures; He converses and delights Himself with me incessantly, in a thousand and a thousand ways, and treats me in all respects as His favorite. It is thus I consider myself from time to time in His holy presence.
My most useful method is this simple attention, and such a general pa.s.sionate regard to G.o.d; to whom I find myself often attached with greater sweetness and delight than that of an infant at the mother"s breast; so that, if I dare use the expression, I should choose to call this state the bosom, of G.o.d, for the inexpressible sweetness which I taste and experience there.
If sometimes my thoughts wander from it by necessity or infirmity, I am presently recalled by inward motions so charming and delicious that I am ashamed to mention them. I desire your reverence to reflect rather upon my great wretchedness, of which you are fully informed, than upon the great favors which G.o.d does me, all unworthy and ungrateful as I am.
As for my set hours of prayer, they are only a continuation of the same exercise. Sometimes I consider myself there as a stone before a carver, whereof he is to make a statue; presenting myself thus before G.o.d, I desire Him to form His perfect image in my soul, and make me entirely like Himself.
At other times, when I apply myself to prayer, I feel all my spirit and all my soul lift itself up without any care or effort of mine, and it continues as it were suspended and firmly fixed in G.o.d, as in its centre and place of rest.
I know that some charge this state with inactivity, delusion and self-love. I confess that it is a holy inactivity, and would be a happy self-love, if the soul in that state were capable of it; because, in effect, while she is in this repose, she cannot be disturbed by such acts as she was formerly accustomed to, and which were then her support, but which would now rather hinder than a.s.sist her.
Yet I cannot bear that this should be called delusion; because the soul which thus enjoys G.o.d desires herein nothing but Him. If this be delusion in me, it belongs to G.o.d to remedy it. Let Him do what He pleases with me; I desire only Him, and to be wholly devoted to Him.
You will, however, oblige me in sending me your opinion, to which I always pay a great deference, for I have a singular esteem for your reverence, and am in our LORD,
Yours, &c.
THIRD LETTER.
We have a G.o.d who is infinitely gracious and knows all our wants. I always thought that He would reduce you to extremity. He will come in His own time, and when you least expect it. Hope in Him more than ever; thank Him with me for the favors he does you, particularly for the fort.i.tude and patience which He gives you in your afflictions. It is a plain mark of the care He takes of you. Comfort yourself, then, with Him, and give thanks for all.
I admire also the fort.i.tude and bravery of Mr. ----. G.o.d has given him a good disposition and a good will; but there is in him still a little of the world, and a great deal of youth. I hope the affliction which G.o.d has sent him will prove a wholesome remedy to him, and make him enter into himself. It is an accident which should engage him to put all his trust in _Him_ who accompanies him everywhere. Let him think of Him as often as he can, especially in the greatest dangers. A little lifting up of the heart suffices. A little remembrance of G.o.d, one act of inward worship, though upon a march, and a sword in hand, are prayers, which, however short, are nevertheless very acceptable to G.o.d; and far from lessening a soldier"s courage in occasions of danger, they best serve to fortify it.
Let him then think of G.o.d the most he can. Let him accustom himself, by degrees, to this small but holy exercise. No one will notice it, and nothing is easier than to repeat often in the day these little internal adorations. Recommend to him, if you please, that he think of G.o.d the most he can, in the manner here directed. It is very fit and most necessary for a soldier, who is daily exposed to the dangers of life. I hope that G.o.d will a.s.sist him and all the family, to whom I present my service, being theirs and Yours, &c.
FOURTH LETTER.
I have taken this opportunity to communicate to you the sentiments of one of our society, concerning the admirable effects and continual a.s.sistances which he receives from _the presence of_ G.o.d. Let you and me both profit by them.
You must know his continual care has been, for about forty years past that he has spent in religion, to be _always with_ G.o.d, and to do nothing, say nothing, and think nothing which may displease Him; and this without any other view than purely for the love of Him, and because he deserves infinitely more.
He is now so accustomed to that _Divine Presence_, that he receives from it continual succors upon all occasions. For about thirty years, his soul has been filled with joys so continual, and sometimes so great, that he is forced to use means to moderate them, and to hinder their appearing outwardly.
If sometimes he is a little too much absent from that _Divine Presence_, G.o.d presently makes Himself to be felt in his soul to recall him, which often happens when he is most engaged in his outward business. He answers with exact fidelity to these inward drawings, either by an elevation of his heart towards G.o.d, or by a meek and fond regard to Him, or by such words as love forms upon these occasions, as for instance, _My G.o.d, here I am all devoted to Thee_: LORD, _make me according to Thy heart_. And then it seems to him (as in effect he feels it) that this G.o.d of love, satisfied with such few words, reposes again, and rests in the fund and centre of his soul. The experience of these things gives him such an a.s.surance that G.o.d is always in the fund or bottom of his soul, that it renders him incapable of doubting it upon any account whatever.
Judge by this what content and satisfaction he enjoys while he continually finds in himself so great a treasure. He is no longer in an anxious search after it, but has it open before him, and may take what he pleases of it.
He complains much of our blindness, and cries often that we are to be pitied who content ourselves with so little. G.o.d, saith he, _has infinite treasure to bestow, and we take up with a little sensible devotion, which pa.s.ses in a moment. Blind as we are, we hinder G.o.d, and stop the current of His graces. But when He finds a soul penetrated with a lively faith, He pours into it His graces and favors plentifully: there they flow like a torrent, which, after being forcibly stopped against its ordinary course, when it has found a pa.s.sage, spreads itself with impetuosity and abundance_.
Yes, we often stop this torrent by the little value we set upon it.
But let us stop it no more; let us enter into ourselves and break down the bank which hinders it. Let us make way for grace; let us redeem the lost time, for perhaps we have but little left. Death follows us close; let us be well prepared for it: for we die but once; and a miscarriage _there_ is irretrievable.
I say again, let us enter into ourselves. The time presses, there is no room for delay: our souls are at stake. I believe you have taken such effectual measures that you will not be surprised. I commend you for it; it is the one thing necessary. We must, nevertheless, always work at it, because not to advance in the spiritual life is to go back. But those who have the gale of the HOLY SPIRIT go forward even in sleep. If the vessel of our soul is still tossed with winds and storms, let us awake the LORD, who reposes in it, and He will quickly calm the sea.
I have taken the liberty to impart to you these good sentiments, that you may compare them with your own. It will serve again to kindle and inflame them, if by misfortune (which G.o.d forbid, for it would be indeed a great misfortune) they should be, though never so little, cooled. Let us then _both_ recall our first fervors. Let us profit by the example and the sentiments of this brother, who is little known of the world, but known of G.o.d, and extremely caressed by Him. I will pray for you; do you pray instantly for me, who am, in our LORD.
Yours, &c.
FIFTH LETTER.
I received this day two books and a letter from Sister ----, who is preparing to make her profession, and upon that account desires the prayers of your holy society, and yours in particular. I perceive that she reckons much upon them; pray do not disappoint her. Beg of G.o.d that she may make her sacrifice in the view of His love alone, and with a firm resolution to be wholly devoted to Him. I will send you one of these books which treat of _the presence of_ G.o.d; a subject which, in my opinion, contains the whole spiritual life; and it seems to me that whoever duly practices it will soon become spiritual.
I know that for the right practice of it, the heart must be empty of all other things; because G.o.d will possess the heart _alone_; and as He cannot possess it _alone_ without emptying it of all besides, so neither can He act _there_, and do in it what He pleases, unless it be left vacant to Him.
There is not in the world a kind of life more sweet and delightful than that of a continual conversation with G.o.d. Those only can comprehend it who practice and experience it; yet I do not advise you to do it from that motive. It is not pleasure which we ought to seek in this exercise; but let us do it from a principle of love, and because G.o.d would have us.
Were I a preacher, I should, above all other things, preach the practice of _the presence of_ G.o.d; and, were I a director, I should advise all the world to do it, so necessary do I think it, and so easy too.
Ah! knew we but the want we have of the grace and a.s.sistance of G.o.d, we should never lose sight of Him, no, not for a moment. Believe me; make immediately a holy and firm resolution never more wilfully to forget Him, and to spend the rest of your days in His sacred presence, deprived for the love of Him, if He thinks fit, of all consolations.
Set heartily about this work, and if you do it as you ought, be a.s.sured that you will soon find the effects of it. I will a.s.sist you with my prayers, poor as they are. I recommend myself earnestly to yours and those of your holy society being theirs, and more particularly
Yours, &c.
SIXTH LETTER.