(Augustine, Confessions. part 13)

joyous.  For he was not yet a Christian, and had fallen into the
pit of deadly error, believing that the flesh of thy Son, the
Truth, was a phantom.[273]  Yet he had come up out of that pit and
now held the same belief that we did.  And though he was not as
yet initiated in any of the sacraments of thy Church, he was a
most earnest inquirer after truth.  Not long after our conversion
and regeneration by thy baptism, he also became a faithful member
of the Catholic Church, serving thee in perfect chastity and
continence among his own people in Africa, and bringing his whole
household with him to Christianity.  Then thou didst release him
from the flesh, and now he lives in Abraham's bosom.  Whatever is
signified by that term "bosom," there lives my Nebridius, my sweet
friend, thy son by adoption, O Lord, and not a freedman any
longer.  There he lives; for what other place could there be for
such a soul?  There he lives in that abode about which he used to
ask me so many questions -- poor ignorant one that I was.  Now he
does not put his ear up to my mouth, but his spiritual mouth to
thy fountain, and drinks wisdom as he desires and as he is able --
happy without end.  But I do not believe that he is so inebriated
by that draught as to forget me; since thou, O Lord, who art the
draught, art mindful of us.
     Thus, then, we were comforting the unhappy Verecundus -- our
friendship untouched -- reconciling him to our conversion and
exhorting him to a faith fit for his condition (that is, to his
being married).  We tarried for Nebridius to follow us, since he
was so close, and this he was just about to do when at last the
interim ended.  The days had seemed long and many because of my
eagerness for leisure and liberty in which I might sing to thee
from my inmost part, "My heart has said to thee, I have sought thy
face; thy face, O Lord, will I seek."[274]

                          CHAPTER IV

     7.  Finally the day came on which I was actually to be
relieved from the professorship of rhetoric, from which I had
already been released in intention.  And it was done.  And thou
didst deliver my tongue as thou hadst already delivered my heart;
and I blessed thee for it with great joy, and retired with my
friends to the villa.[275]  My books testify to what I got done
there in writing, which was now hopefully devoted to thy service;
though in this pause it was still as if I were panting from my
exertions in the school of pride.[276]  These were the books in
which I engaged in dialogue with my friends, and also those in
soliloquy before thee alone.[277]  And there are my letters to
Nebridius, who was still absent.[278]
     When would there be enough time to recount all thy great
blessings which thou didst bestow on us in that time, especially
as I am hastening on to still greater mercies?  For my memory
recalls them to me and it is pleasant to confess them to thee, O
Lord: the inward goads by which thou didst subdue me and how thou
broughtest me low, leveling the mountains and hills of my
thoughts, straightening my crookedness, and smoothing my rough
ways.  And I remember by what means thou also didst subdue
Alypius, my heart's brother, to the name of thy only Son, our Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ -- which he at first refused to have
inserted in our writings.  For at first he preferred that they
should smell of the cedars of the schools[279] which the Lord hath
now broken down, rather than of the wholesome herbs of the Church,
hostile to serpents.[280]
     8.  O my God, how did I cry to thee when I read the psalms of
David, those hymns of faith, those paeans of devotion which leave
no room for swelling pride!  I was still a novice in thy true
love, a catechumen keeping holiday at the villa, with Alypius, a
catechumen like myself.  My mother was also with us -- in woman's
garb, but with a man's faith, with the peacefulness of age and the
fullness of motherly love and Christian piety.  What cries I used
to send up to thee in those songs, and how I was enkindled toward
thee by them!  I burned to sing them if possible, throughout the
whole world, against the pride of the human race.  And yet,
indeed, they are sung throughout the whole world, and none can
hide himself from thy heat.  With what strong and bitter regret
was I indignant at the Manicheans!  Yet I also pitied them; for
they were ignorant of those sacraments, those medicines[281] --
and raved insanely against the cure that might have made them
sane!  I wished they could have been somewhere close by, and --
without my knowledge -- could have seen my face and heard my words
when, in that time of leisure, I pored over the Fourth Psalm.  And
I wish they could have seen how that psalm affected me.[282]
"When I called upon thee, O God of my righteousness, thou didst
hear me; thou didst enlarge me when I was in distress.  Have mercy
upon me and hear my prayer." I wish they might have heard what I
said in comment on those words -- without my knowing that they
heard, lest they should think that I was speaking it just on their
account.  For, indeed, I should not have said quite the same
things, nor quite in the same way, if I had known that I was heard
and seen by them.  And if I had so spoken, they would not have
meant the same things to them as they did to me when I spoke by
and for myself before thee, out of the private affections of my
     9.  By turns I trembled with fear and warmed with hope and
rejoiced in thy mercy, O Father.  And all these feelings showed
forth in my eyes and voice when thy good Spirit turned to us and
said, "O sons of men, how long will you be slow of heart, how long
will you love vanity, and seek after falsehood?"  For I had loved
vanity and sought after falsehood.  And thou, O Lord, had already
magnified thy Holy One, raising him from the dead and setting him
at thy right hand, that thence he should send forth from on high
his promised "Paraclete, the Spirit of Truth." Already he had sent
him, and I knew it not.  He had sent him because he was now
magnified, rising from the dead and ascending into heaven.  For
till then "the Holy Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus was
not yet glorified."[283]  And the prophet cried out: "How long
will you be slow of heart?  How long will you love vanity, and
seek after falsehood?  Know this, that the Lord hath magnified his
Holy One." He cries, "How long?"  He cries, "Know this," and I --
so long "loving vanity, and seeking after falsehood" -- heard and
trembled, because these words were spoken to such a one as I
remembered that I myself had been.  For in those phantoms which I
once held for truth there was vanity and falsehood.  And I spoke
many things loudly and earnestly -- in the contrition of my memory
-- which I wish they had heard, who still "love vanity and seek
after falsehood." Perhaps they would have been troubled, and have
vomited up their error, and thou wouldst have heard them when they
cried to thee; for by a real death in the flesh He died for us who
now maketh intercession for us with thee.
     10.  I read on further, "Be angry, and sin not." And how
deeply was I touched, O my God; for I had now learned to be angry
with myself for the things past, so that in the future I might not
sin.  Yes, to be angry with good cause, for it was not another
nature out of the race of darkness that had sinned for me -- as
they affirm who are not angry with themselves, and who store up
for themselves dire wrath against the day of wrath and the
revelation of thy righteous judgment.  Nor were the good things I
saw now outside me, nor were they to be seen with the eyes of
flesh in the light of the earthly sun.  For they that have their
joys from without sink easily into emptiness and are spilled out
on those things that are visible and temporal, and in their
starving thoughts they lick their very shadows.  If only they
would grow weary with their hunger and would say, "Who will show
us any good?"  And we would answer, and they would hear, "O Lord,
the light of thy countenance shines bright upon us." For we are
not that Light that enlightens every man, but we are enlightened
by thee, so that we who were formerly in darkness may now be
alight in thee.  If only they could behold the inner Light Eternal
which, now that I had tasted it, I gnashed my teeth because I
could not show it to them unless they brought me their heart in
their eyes -- their roving eyes -- and said, "Who will show us any
good?"  But even there, in the inner chamber of my soul -- where I
was angry with myself; where I was inwardly pricked, where I had
offered my sacrifice, slaying my old man, and hoping in thee with
the new resolve of a new life with my trust laid in thee -- even
there thou hadst begun to grow sweet to me and to "put gladness in
my heart." And thus as I read all this, I cried aloud and felt its
inward meaning.  Nor did I wish to be increased in worldly goods
which are wasted by time, for now I possessed, in thy eternal
simplicity, other corn and wine and oil.
     11.  And with a loud cry from my heart, I read the following
verse: "Oh, in peace!  Oh, in the Selfsame!"[284]  See how he says
it: "I will lay me down and take my rest."[285]  For who shall
withstand us when the truth of this saying that is written is made
manifest: "Death is swallowed up in victory"[286]?  For surely
thou, who dost not change, art the Selfsame, and in thee is rest
and oblivion to all distress.  There is none other beside thee,
nor are we to toil for those many things which are not thee, for
only thou, O Lord, makest me to dwell in hope."
     These things I read and was enkindled -- but still I could
not discover what to do with those deaf and dead Manicheans to
whom I myself had belonged; for I had been a bitter and blind
reviler against these writings, honeyed with the honey of heaven
and luminous with thy light.  And I was sorely grieved at these
enemies of this Scripture.
     12.  When shall I call to mind all that happened during those
holidays?  I have not forgotten them; nor will I be silent about
the severity of thy scourge, and the amazing quickness of thy
mercy.  During that time thou didst torture me with a toothache;
and when it had become so acute 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 thee, the God of all health.  And I wrote it down on the
tablet and gave it to them to read.  Presently, as we bowed our
knees in supplication, the pain was gone.  But what pain?  How did
it go?  I confess that I was terrified, O Lord my God, because
from my earliest years I had never experienced such pain.  And thy
purposes were profoundly impressed upon me; and rejoicing in
faith, I praised thy name.  But that faith allowed me no rest in
respect of my past sins, which were not yet forgiven me through
thy baptism.

                           CHAPTER V

     13.  Now that the vintage vacation was ended, I gave notice
to the citizens of Milan that they might provide their scholars
with another word-merchant.  I gave as my reasons my determination
to serve thee and also my insufficiency for the task, because of
the difficulty in breathing and the pain in my chest.
     And by letters I notified thy bishop, the holy man Ambrose,
of my former errors and my present resolution.  And I asked his
advice as to which of thy books it was best for me to read so that
I might be the more ready and fit for the reception of so great a
grace.  He recommended Isaiah the prophet; and I believe it was
because Isaiah foreshows more clearly than others the gospel, and
the calling of the Gentiles.  But because I could not understand
the first part and because I imagined the rest to be like it, I
laid it aside with the intention of taking it up again later, when
better practiced in our Lord's words.

                          CHAPTER VI

     14.  When the time arrived for me to give in my name, we left
the country and returned to Milan.  Alypius also resolved to be
born again in thee at the same time.  He was already clothed with
the humility that befits thy sacraments, and was so brave a tamer
of his body that he would walk the frozen Italian soil with his
naked feet, which called for unusual fortitude.  We took with us
the boy Adeodatus, my son after the flesh, the offspring of my
sin.  Thou hadst made of him a noble lad.  He was barely fifteen
years old, but his intelligence excelled that of many grave and
learned men.  I confess to thee thy gifts, O Lord my God, creator
of all, who hast power to reform our deformities -- for there was
nothing of me in that boy but the sin.  For it was thou who didst
inspire us to foster him in thy discipline, and none other -- thy
gifts I confess to thee.  There is a book of mine, entitled De
Magistro.[287]  It is a dialogue between Adeodatus and me, and
thou knowest that all things there put into the mouth of my
interlocutor are his, though he was then only in his sixteenth
year.  Many other gifts even more wonderful I found in him.  His
talent was a source of awe to me.  And who but thou couldst be the
worker of such marvels?  And thou didst quickly remove his life
from the earth, and even now I recall him to mind with a sense of
security, because I fear nothing for his childhood or youth, nor
for his whole career.  We took him for our companion, as if he
were the same age in grace with ourselves, to be trained with
ourselves in thy discipline.  And so we were baptized and the
anxiety about our past life left us.
     Nor did I ever have enough in those days of the wondrous
sweetness of meditating on the depth of thy counsels concerning
the salvation of the human race.  How freely did I weep in thy
hymns and canticles; how deeply was I moved by the voices of thy
sweet-speaking Church!  The voices flowed into my ears; and the
truth was poured forth into my heart, where the tide of my
devotion overflowed, and my tears ran down, and I was happy in all
these things.

                          CHAPTER VII

     15.  The church of Milan had only recently begun to employ
this mode of consolation and exaltation with all the brethren
singing together with great earnestness of voice and heart.  For
it was only about a year -- not much more -- since Justina, the
mother of the boy-emperor Valentinian, had persecuted thy servant
Ambrose on behalf of her heresy, in which she had been seduced by
the Arians.  The devoted people kept guard in the church, prepared
to die with their bishop, thy servant.  Among them my mother, thy
handmaid, taking a leading part in those anxieties and vigils,
lived there in prayer.  And even though we were still not wholly
melted by the heat of thy Spirit, we were nevertheless excited by
the alarmed and disturbed city.
     This was the time that the custom began, after the manner of
the Eastern Church, that hymns and psalms should be sung, so that
the people would not be worn out with the tedium of lamentation.
This custom, retained from then till now, has been imitated by
many, indeed, by almost all thy congregations throughout the rest
of the world.[288]
     16.  Then by a vision thou madest known to thy renowned
bishop the spot where lay the bodies of Gervasius and Protasius,
the martyrs, whom thou hadst preserved uncorrupted for so many
years in thy secret storehouse, so that thou mightest produce them
at a fit time to check a woman's fury -- a woman indeed, but also
a queen!  When they were discovered and dug up and brought with
due honor to the basilica of Ambrose, as they were borne along the
road many who were troubled by unclean spirits -- the devils
confessing themselves -- were healed.  And there was also a
certain man, a well-known citizen of the city, blind many years,
who, when he had asked and learned the reason for the people's
tumultuous joy, rushed out and begged his guide to lead him to the
place.  When he arrived there, he begged to be permitted to touch
with his handkerchief the bier of thy saints, whose death is
precious in thy sight.  When he had done this, and put it to his
eyes, they were immediately opened.  The fame of all this spread
abroad; from this thy glory shone more brightly.  And also from
this the mind of that angry woman, though not enlarged to the
sanity of a full faith, was nevertheless restrained from the fury
of persecution.
     Thanks to thee, O my God.  Whence and whither hast thou led
my memory, that I should confess such things as these to thee --
for great as they were, I had forgetfully passed them over?  And
yet at that time, when the sweet savor of thy ointment was so
fragrant, I did not run after thee.[289]  Therefore, I wept more
bitterly as I listened to thy hymns, having so long panted after
thee.  And now at length I could breathe as much as the space
allows in this our straw house.[290]

                         CHAPTER VIII

     17.  Thou, O Lord, who makest men of one mind to dwell in a
single house, also broughtest Evodius to join our company.  He was
a young man of our city, who, while serving as a secret service
agent, was converted to thee and baptized before us.  He had
relinquished his secular service, and prepared himself for thine.
We were together, and we were resolved to live together in our
devout purpose.
     We cast about for some place where we might be most useful in
our service to thee, and had planned on going back together to
Africa.  And when we had got as far as Ostia on the Tiber, my
mother died.
     I am passing over many things, for I must hasten.  Receive, O
my God, my confessions and thanksgiving for the unnumbered things
about which I am silent.  But I will not omit anything my mind has
brought back concerning thy handmaid who brought me forth -- in
her flesh, that I might be born into this world's light, and in
her heart, that I might be born to life eternal.  I will not speak
of her gifts, but of thy gift in her; for she neither made herself
nor trainedd herself.  Thou didst create her, and neither her
father nor her mother knew what kind of being was to come forth
from them.  And it was the rod of thy Christ, the discipline of
thy only Son, that trained her in thy fear, in the house of one of
thy faithful ones who was a sound member of thy Church. Yet my
mother did not attribute this good training of hers as much to the
diligence of her own mother as to that of a certain elderly
maidservant who had nursed her father, carrying him around on her
back, as big girls carried babies.  Because of her long-time
service and also because of her extreme age and excellent
character, she was much respected by the heads of that Christian
household.  The care of her master's daughters was also committed
to her, and she performed her task with diligence.  She was quite
earnest in restraining them with a holy severity when necessary
and instructing them with a sober sagacity.  Thus, except at
mealtimes at their parents' table -- when they were fed very
temperately -- she would not allow them to drink even water,
however parched they were with thirst.  In this way she took
precautions against an evil custom and added the wholesome advice:
"You drink water now only because you don't control the wine; but
when you are married and mistresses of pantry and cellar, you may
not care for water, but the habit of drinking will be fixed." By
such a method of instruction, and her authority, she restrained
the longing of their tender age, and regulated even the thirst of
the girls to such a decorous control that they no longer wanted
what they ought not to have.
     18.  And yet, as thy handmaid related to me, her son, there
had stolen upon her a love of wine.  For, in the ordinary course
of things, when her parents sent her as a sober maiden to draw
wine from the cask, she would hold a cup under the tap; and then,
before she poured the wine into the bottle, she would wet the tips
of her lips with a little of it, for more than this her taste
refused.  She did not do this out of any craving for drink, but
out of the overflowing buoyancy of her time of life, which bubbles
up with sportiveness and youthful spirits, but is usually borne
down by the gravity of the old folks.  And so, adding daily a
little to that little -- for "he that contemns small things shall
fall by a little here and a little there"[291] -- she slipped into
such a habit as to drink off eagerly her little cup nearly full of
     Where now was that wise old woman and her strict prohibition?
Could anything prevail against our secret disease if thy medicine,
O Lord, did not watch over us?  Though father and mother and
nurturers are absent, thou art present, who dost create, who
callest, and who also workest some good for our salvation, through
those who are set over us.  What didst thou do at that time, O my
God?  How didst thou heal her?  How didst thou make her whole?
Didst thou not bring forth from another woman's soul a hard and
bitter insult, like a surgeon's knife from thy secret store, and
with one thrust drain off all that putrefaction?  For the slave
girl who used to accompany her to the cellar fell to quarreling
with her little mistress, as it sometimes happened when she was
alone with her, and cast in her teeth this vice of hers, along
with a very bitter insult: calling her "a drunkard." Stung by this
taunt, my mother saw her own vileness and immediately condemned
and renounced it.
     As the flattery of friends corrupts, so often do the taunts
of enemies instruct.  Yet thou repayest them, not for the good
thou workest through their means, but for the malice they
intended.  That angry slave girl wanted to infuriate her young
mistress, not to cure her; and that is why she spoke up when they
were alone.  Or perhaps it was because their quarrel just happened
to break out at that time and place; or perhaps she was afraid of
punishment for having told of it so late.
     But thou, O Lord, ruler of heaven and earth, who changest to
thy purposes the deepest floods and controls the turbulent tide of
the ages, thou healest one soul by the unsoundness of another; so
that no man, when he hears of such a happening, should attribute
it to his own power if another person whom he wishes to reform is
reformed through a word of his.

                          CHAPTER IX

     19.  Thus modestly and soberly brought up, she was made
subject to her parents by thee, rather more than by her parents to
thee.  She arrived at a marriageable age, and she was given to a
husband whom she served as her lord.  And she busied herself to
gain him to thee, preaching thee to him by her behavior, in which
thou madest her fair and reverently amiable, and admirable to her
husband.  For she endured with patience his infidelity and never
had any dissension with her husband on this account.  For she
waited for thy mercy upon him until, by believing in thee, he
might become chaste.
     Moreover, even though he was earnest in friendship, he was
also violent in anger; but she had learned that an angry husband
should not be resisted, either in deed or in word.  But as soon as
he had grown calm and was tranquil, and she saw a fitting moment,
she would give him a reason for her conduct, if he had been
excited unreasonably.  As a result, while many matrons whose
husbands were more gentle than hers bore the marks of blows on
their disfigured faces, and would in private talk blame the
behavior of their husbands, she would blame their tongues,
admonishing them seriously -- though in a jesting manner -- that
from the hour they heard what are called the matrimonial tablets
read to them, they should think of them as instruments by which
they were made servants.  So, always being mindful of their
condition, they ought not to set themselves up in opposition to
their lords.  And, knowing what a furious, bad-tempered husband
she endured, they marveled that it had never been rumored, nor was
there any mark to show, that Patricius had ever beaten his wife,
or that there had been any domestic strife between them, even for
a day.  And when they asked her confidentially the reason for
this, she taught them the rule I have mentioned.  Those who
observed it confirmed the wisdom of it and rejoiced; those who did
not observe it were bullied and vexed.
     20.  Even her mother-in-law, who was at first prejudiced
against her by the whisperings of malicious servants, she
conquered by submission, persevering in it with patience and
meekness; with the result that the mother-in-law told her son of
the tales of the meddling servants which had disturbed the
domestic peace between herself and her daughter-in-law and begged
him to punish them for it.  In conformity with his mother's wish,
and in the interest of family discipline to insure the future
harmony of its members, he had those servants beaten who were
pointed out by her who had discovered them; and she promised a
similar reward to anyone else who, thinking to please her, should
say anything evil of her daughter-in-law.  After this no one dared
to do so, and they lived together with a wonderful sweetness of
mutual good will.
     21.  This other great gift thou also didst bestow, O my God,
my Mercy, upon that good handmaid of thine, in whose womb thou
didst create me.  It was that whenever she could she acted as a
peacemaker between any differing and discordant spirits, and when
she heard very bitter things on either side of a controversy --
the kind of bloated and undigested discord which often belches
forth bitter words, when crude malice is breathed out by sharp
tongues to a present friend against an absent enemy -- she would
disclose nothing about the one to the other except what might
serve toward their reconciliation.  This might seem a small good
to me if I did not know to my sorrow countless persons who,
through the horrid and far-spreading infection of sin, not only
repeat to enemies mutually enraged things said in passion against
each other, but also add some things that were never said at all.
It ought not to be enough in a truly humane man merely not to
incite or increase the enmities of men by evil-speaking; he ought
likewise to endeavor by kind words to extinguish them.  Such a one
was she -- and thou, her most intimate instructor, didst teach her
in the school of her heart.
     22.  Finally, her own husband, now toward the end of his
earthly existence, she won over to thee.  Henceforth, she had no
cause to complain of unfaithfulness in him, which she had endured
before he became one of the faithful.  She was also the servant of
thy servants.  All those who knew her greatly praised, honored,
and loved thee in her because, through the witness of the fruits
of a holy life, they recognized thee present in her heart.  For
she had "been the wife of one man,"[292] had honored her parents,
had guided her house in piety, was highly reputed for good works,
and brought up her children, travailing in labor with them as
often as she saw them swerving from thee.  Lastly, to all of us, O
Lord -- since of thy favor thou allowest thy servants to speak --
to all of us who lived together in that association before her
death in thee she devoted such care as she might have if she had
been mother of us all; she served us as if she had been the
daughter of us all.

                           CHAPTER X

     23.  As the day now approached on which she was to depart
this life -- a day which thou knewest, but which we did not -- it
happened (though I believe it was by thy secret ways arranged)
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.  Here
in this place, removed from the crowd, we were resting ourselves
for the voyage after the fatigues of a long journey.
     We were conversing alone very pleasantly and "forgetting
those things which are past, and reaching forward toward those
things which are future."[293]  We were in the present -- and in
the presence of Truth (which thou art) -- discussing together what
is the nature of the eternal life of the saints: which eye has not
seen, nor ear heard, neither has entered into the heart of
man.[294]  We opened wide the mouth of our heart, thirsting for
those supernal streams of thy fountain, "the fountain of life"
which is with thee,[295] that we might be sprinkled with its
waters according to our capacity and might in some measure weigh
the truth of so profound a mystery.
     24.  And when our conversation had brought us to the point
where the very highest of physical sense and the most intense
illumination of physical light seemed, in comparison with the
sweetness of that life to come, not worthy of comparison, nor even
of mention, we lifted ourselves with a more ardent love toward the
Selfsame,[296] and we gradually passed through all the levels of
bodily objects, and even through the heaven itself, where the sun
and moon and stars shine on the earth.  Indeed, we soared higher
yet by an inner musing, speaking and marveling at thy works.
     And we came at last to our own minds and went beyond them,
that we might climb as high as that region of unfailing plenty
where thou feedest Israel forever with the food of truth, where
life is that Wisdom by whom all things are made, both which have
been and which are to be.  Wisdom is not made, but is as she has
been and forever shall be; for "to have been" and "to be
hereafter" do not apply to her, but only "to be," because she is
eternal and "to have been" and "to be hereafter" are not eternal.
     And while we were thus speaking and straining after her, we
just barely touched her with the whole effort of our hearts.  Then
with a sigh, leaving the first fruits of the Spirit bound to that
ecstasy, we returned to the sounds of our own tongue, where the
spoken word had both beginning and end.[297]  But what is like to
thy Word, our Lord, who remaineth in himself without becoming old,
and "makes all things new"[298]?
     25.  What we said went something like this: "If to any man
the tumult of the flesh were silenced; and the phantoms of earth
and waters and air were silenced; and the poles were silent as
well; indeed, if the very soul grew silent to herself, and went
beyond herself by not thinking of herself; if fancies and
imaginary revelations were silenced; if every tongue and every
sign and every transient thing -- for actually if any man could
hear them, all these would say, 'We did not create ourselves, but
were created by Him who abides forever' -- and if, having uttered
this, they too should be silent, having stirred our ears to hear
him who created them; and if then he alone spoke, not through them
but by himself, that we might hear his word, not in fleshly tongue
or angelic voice, nor sound of thunder, nor the obscurity of a
parable, but might hear him -- him for whose sake we love these
things -- if we could hear him without these, as we two now
strained ourselves to do, we then with rapid thought might touch
on that Eternal Wisdom which abides over all.  And if this could
be sustained, and other visions of a far different kind be taken
away, and this one should so ravish and absorb and envelop its
beholder in these inward joys that his life might be eternally
like that one moment of knowledge which we now sighed after --
would not _this_ be the reality of the saying, 'Enter into the joy
of thy Lord'[299]?  But when shall such a thing be?  Shall it not
be 'when we all shall rise again,' and shall it not be that 'all
things will be changed'[300]?"
     26.  Such a thought I was expressing, and if not in this
manner and in these words, still, O Lord, thou knowest that on
that day we were talking thus and that this world, with all its
joys, seemed cheap to us even as we spoke.  Then my mother said:
"Son, for myself I have no longer any pleasure in anything in this
life.  Now that my hopes in this world are satisfied, I do not
know what more I want here or why I am here.  There was indeed one
thing for which I wished to tarry a little in this life, and that

(continued in part 14 ...)

file: /pub/resources/text/icp-e/epl-01: agcon-13.txt