The Saint Ceases Not to Pray. Prayer the Way to Recover What
Is Lost. All Exhorted to Pray. The Great Advantage of Prayer,
Even to Those Who May Have Ceased from It.
1. It is not without reason that I have dwelt so long on this
portion of my life. I see clearly that it will give no one
pleasure to see anything so base; and certainly I wish those who
may read this to have me in abhorrence, as a soul so obstinate
and so ungrateful to Him Who did so much for me. I could wish,
too, I had permission to say how often at this time I failed in
my duty to God, because I was not leaning on the strong pillar of
prayer. I passed nearly twenty years on this stormy sea, falling
and rising, but rising to no good purpose, seeing that I went and
fell again. My life was one of perfection; but it was so mean,
that I scarcely made any account whatever of venial sins; and
though of mortal sins I was afraid, I was not so afraid of them
as I ought to have been, because I did not avoid the perilous
occasions of them. I may say that it was the most painful life
that can be imagined, because I had no sweetness in God, and no
pleasure in the world.
2. When I was in the midst of the pleasures of the world, the
remembrance of what I owed to God made me sad; and when I was
praying to God, my worldly affections disturbed me. This is so
painful a struggle, that I know not how I could have borne it for
a month, let alone for so many years. Nevertheless, I can trace
distinctly the great mercy of our Lord to me, while thus immersed
in the world, in that I had still the courage to pray. I say
courage, because I know of nothing in the whole world which
requires greater courage than plotting treason against the King,
knowing that He knows it, and yet never withdrawing from His
presence; for, granting that we are always in the presence of
God, yet it seems to me that those who pray arc in His presence
in a very different sense; for they, as it were, see that He is
looking upon them; while others may be for days together without
even once recollecting that God sees them.
3. It is true, indeed, that during these years there were many
months, and, I believe, occasionally a whole year, in which I so
kept guard over myself that I did not offend our Lord, gave
myself much to prayer, and took some pains, and that
successfully, not to offend Him. I speak of this now, because
all I am saying is strictly true; but I remember very little of
those good days, and so they must have been few, while my evil
days were many. Still, the days that passed over without my
spending a great part of them in prayer were few, unless I was
very ill, or very much occupied.
4. When I was ill, I was well with God. I contrived that those
about me should be so, too, and I made supplications to our Lord
for this grace, and spoke frequently of Him. Thus, with the
exception of that year of which I have been speaking, during
eight-and-twenty years of prayer, I spent more than eighteen in
that strife and contention which arose out of my attempts to
reconcile God and the world. As to the other years, of which I
have now to speak, in them the grounds of the warfare, though it
was not slight, were changed; but inasmuch as I was--at least, I
think so--serving God, and aware of the vanity of the world, all
has been pleasant, as I shall show hereafter. [1]
5. The reason, then, of my telling this at so great a length is
that, as I have just said, [2] the mercy of God and my
ingratitude, on the one hand, may become known; and, on the
other, that men may understand how great is the good which God
works in a soul when He gives it a disposition to pray in
earnest, though it may not be so well prepared as it ought to be.
If that soul perseveres in spite of sins, temptations, and
relapses, brought about in a thousand ways by Satan, our Lord
will bring it at last--I am certain of it--to the harbour of
salvation, as He has brought me myself; for so it seems to me
now. May His Majesty grant I may never go back and be lost!
He who gives himself to prayer is in possession of a great
blessing, of which many saintly and good men have written--I am
speaking of mental prayer--glory be to God for it; and, if they
had not done so, I am not proud enough, though I have but little
humility, to presume to discuss it.
6. I may speak of that which I know by experience; and so I say,
let him never cease from prayer who has once begun it, be his
life ever so wicked; for prayer is the way to amend it, and
without prayer such amendment will be much more difficult.
Let him not be tempted by Satan, as I was, to give it up, on the
pretence of humility; [3] let him rather believe that His words
are true Who says that, if we truly repent, and resolve never to
offend Him, He will take us into His favour again, [4] give us
the graces He gave us before, and occasionally even greater, if
our repentance deserve it. And as to him who has not begun to
pray, I implore him by the love of our Lord not to deprive
himself of so great a good.
7. Herein there is nothing to be afraid of, but everything to
hope for. Granting that such a one does not advance, nor make an
effort to become perfect, so as to merit the joys and
consolations which the perfect receive from God, yet he will by
little and little attain to a knowledge of the road which leads
to heaven. And if he perseveres, I hope in the mercy of God for
him, seeing that no one ever took Him for his friend that was not
amply rewarded; for mental prayer is nothing else, in my opinion,
but being on terms of friendship with God, frequently conversing
in secret with Him Who, we know, loves us. Now, true love and
lasting friendship require certain dispositions: those of our
Lord, we know, are absolutely perfect; ours, vicious, sensual,
and thankless; and you cannot therefore, bring yourselves to love
Him as He loves you, because you have not the disposition to do
so; and if you do not love Him, yet, seeing how much it concerns
you to have His friendship, and how great is His love for you,
rise above that pain you feel at being much with Him Who is so
different from you.
8. O infinite goodness of my God! I seem to see Thee and myself
in this relation to one another. O Joy of the angels! when I
consider it, I wish I could wholly die of love! How true it is
that Thou endurest those who will not endure Thee! Oh, how good
a friend art Thou, O my Lord! how Thou comfortest and endurest,
and also waitest for them to make themselves like unto Thee, and
yet, in the meanwhile, art Thyself so patient of the state they
are in! Thou takest into account the occasions during which they
seek Thee, and for a moment of penitence forgettest their
offences against Thyself.
9. I have seen this distinctly in my own case, and I cannot tell
why the whole world does not labour to draw near to Thee in this
particular friendship. The wicked, who do not resemble Thee,
ought to do so, in order that Thou mayest make them good, and for
that purpose should permit Thee to remain with them at least for
two hours daily, even though they may not remain with Thee but,
as I used to do, with a thousand distractions, and with worldly
thoughts. In return for this violence which they offer to
themselves for the purpose of remaining in a company so good as
Thine--for at first they can do no more, and even afterwards at
times--Thou, O Lord, defendest them against the assaults of evil
spirits, whose power Thou restrainest, and even lessenest daily,
giving to them the victory over these their enemies. So it is, O
Life of all lives, Thou slayest none that put their trust in
Thee, and seek Thy friendship; yea, rather, Thou sustainest their
bodily life in greater vigour, and makest their soul to live.
10. I do not understand what there can be to make them afraid who
are afraid to begin mental prayer, nor do I know what it is they
dread. The devil does well to bring this fear upon us, that he
may really hurt us by putting me in fear, he can make me cease
from thinking of my offences against God, of the great debt I owe
Him, of the existence of heaven and hell, and of the great
sorrows and trials He underwent for me. That was all my prayer,
and had been, when I was in this dangerous state, and it was on
those subjects I dwelt whenever I could; and very often, for some
years, I was more occupied with the wish to see the end of the
time I had appointed for myself to spend in prayer, and in
watching the hour-glass, than with other thoughts that were good.
If a sharp penance had been laid upon me, I know of none that I
would not very often have willingly undertaken, rather than
prepare myself for prayer by self-recollection. And certainly
the violence with which Satan assailed me was so irresistible, or
my evil habits were so strong, that I did not betake myself to
prayer; and the sadness I felt on entering the oratory was so
great, that it required all the courage I had to force myself in.
They say of me that my courage is not slight, and it is known
that God has given me a courage beyond that of a woman; but I
have made a bad use of it. In the end, our Lord came to my help;
and then, when I had done this violence to myself, I found
greater peace and joy than I sometimes had when I had a desire
to pray.
11. If, then, our Lord bore so long with me, who was so
wicked--and it is plain that it was by prayer all my evil was
corrected--why should any one, how wicked soever he may be, have
any fear? Let him be ever so wicked, he will not remain in his
wickedness so many years as I did, after receiving so many graces
from our Lord. Is there any one who can despair, when He bore so
long with me, only because I desired and contrived to find some
place and some opportunities for Him to be alone with me--and
that very often against my will? for I did violence to myself, or
rather our Lord Himself did violence to me.
12. If, then, to those who do not serve God, but rather offend
Him, prayer be all this, and so necessary, and if no one can
really find out any harm it can do him, and if the omission of it
be not a still greater harm, why, then, should they abstain from
it who serve and desire to serve God? Certainly I cannot
comprehend it, unless it be that men have a mind to go through
the troubles of this life in greater misery, and to shut the door
in the face of God, so that He shall give them no comfort in it.
I am most truly sorry for them, because they serve God at their
own cost; for of those who pray, God Himself defrays the charges,
seeing that for a little trouble He gives sweetness, in order
that, by the help it supplies, they may bear their trials.
13. But because I have much to say hereafter of this sweetness,
which our Lord gives to those who persevere in prayer, [5] I do
not speak of it here; only this will I say: prayer is the door to
those great graces which our Lord bestowed upon me. If this door
be shut, I do not see how He can bestow them; for even if He
entered into a soul to take His delight therein, and to make that
soul also delight in Him, there is no way by which He can do so;
for His will is, that such a soul should be lonely and pure, with
a great desire to receive His graces. If we put many hindrances
in the way, and take no pains whatever to remove them, how can He
come to us, and how can we have any desire that He should show us
His great mercies?
14. I will speak now--for it is very important to understand
it--of the assaults which Satan directs against a soul for the
purpose of taking it, and of the contrivances and compassion
wherewith our Lord labours to convert it to Himself, in order
that men may behold His mercy, and the great good it was for me
that I did not give up prayer and spiritual reading, and that
they may be on their guard against the dangers against which I
was not on my guard myself. And, above all, I implore them for
the love of our Lord, and for the great love with which He goeth
about seeking our conversion to Himself, to beware of the
occasions of sin; for once placed therein, we have no ground to
rest on--so many enemies then assail us, and our own weakness is
such, that we cannot defend ourselves.
15. Oh, that I knew how to describe the captivity of my soul in
those days! I understood perfectly that I was in captivity, but
I could not understand the nature of it; neither could I entirely
believe that those things which my confessors did not make so
much of were so wrong as I in my soul felt them to be. One of
them--I had gone to him with a scruple--told me that, even if I
were raised to high contemplation, those occasions and
conversations were not unfitting for me. This was towards the
end, when, by the grace of God, I was withdrawing more and more
from those great dangers, but not wholly from the occasions
of them.
16. When they saw my good desires, and how I occupied myself in
prayer, I seemed to them to have done much; but my soul knew that
this was not doing what I was bound to do for Him to Whom I owed
so much. I am sorry for my poor soul even now, because of its
great sufferings, and the little help it had from any one except
God, and for the wide door that man opened for it, that it might
go forth to its pastimes and pleasures, when they said that these
things were lawful.
17. Then there was the torture of sermons, and that not a slight
one; for I was very fond of them. If I heard any one preach well
and with unction, I felt, without my seeking it, a particular
affection for him, neither do I know whence it came. Thus, no
sermon ever seemed to me so bad, but that I listened to it with
pleasure; though, according to others who heard it, the preaching
was not good. If it was a good sermon, it was to me a most
special refreshment. To speak of God, or to hear Him spoken of,
never wearied me. I am speaking of the time after I gave myself
to prayer. At one time I had great comfort in sermons, at
another they distressed me, because they made me feel that I was
very far from being what I ought to have been.
18. I used to pray to our Lord for help; but, as it now seems to
me, I must have committed the fault of not putting my whole trust
in His Majesty, and of not thoroughly distrusting myself.
I sought for help, took great pains; but it must be that I did
not understand how all is of little profit if we do not root out
all confidence in ourselves, and place it wholly in God. I wished
to live, but I saw clearly that I was not living, but rather
wrestling with the shadow of death; there was no one to give me
life, and I was not able to take it. He Who could have given it
me had good reasons for not coming to my aid, seeing that He had
brought me back to Himself so many times, and I as often had
left Him.
1. Ch. ix. § 10.
2. § 1, above.
3. Ch. vii. § 17; ch. xix. § 8.
4. Ezech. xviii. 21: "Si autem impius egerit poenitentiam, . . .
vita vivet, et non morietur. Omnium iniquitatum ejus . . .
non recordabor."
5. See ch. x. § 2, and ch. xi. § 22.