By Augustine
I will now call to mind my past foulness, and the carnal corruptions of my soul; not because I love them, but that I may love Thee, O my God.
Our souls may from their weariness arise towards Thee, leaning on those things which Thou hast created, and passing on to Thyself, who madest them wonderfully.
And as I spake, I all but enacted it: I all but did it, and did it not.
It was foul, and I loved it; I loved to perish, I loved mine own fault.
Gathering me again out of that my dissipation, wherein I was torn piecemeal, while turned from Thee, the One Good, I lost myself among a multiplicity of things.
For love of Thy love I do it; reviewing my most wicked ways in the very bitterness of my remembrance, that Thou mayest grow sweet unto me.
But Thou, O Lord, are good and merciful, and Thy right hand had respect unto the depth of my death, and from the bottom of my heart emptied that abyss of corruption.
Behold my heart, O God, behold my heart, which Thou hadst pity upon in the bottom of the bottomless pit.
Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose in Thee.
For within me was a famine of that inward food, Thyself, my God; yet, through that famine I was not hungered.
I lusted to thieve, and did it, compelled by no hunger, nor poverty, but through a cloyedness of well-doing.
What then was it which did grievously pain me within, but a fresh wound wrought through the sudden wrench of that most sweet and dear custom of living together?
Too late loved I Thee, O Thou Beauty of ancient days, yet ever new! too late I loved Thee!
Never would such and so great things be by God wrought for us, if with the death of the body the life of the soul came to an end.
How sweet did it at once become to me, to want the sweetnesses of those toys! and what I feared to be parted from, was now a joy to part with.
I loved not yet, yet I loved to love, and out of a deep-seated want, I hated myself for wanting not.
Thou wouldest give it, if with inward groanings I did knock at Thine ears, and with a settled faith did cast my care on Thee.
And I gave way to the tears which I before restrained, to overflow as much as they desired; reposing my heart upon them; and it found rest in them, for it was in Thy ears, not in those of man, who would have scornfully interpreted my weeping.
For he who confesses to Thee doth not teach Thee what takes place within him; seeing a closed heart closes not out Thy eye.
Let my soul praise Thee, that it may love Thee; and let it confess Thy own mercies to Thee, that it may praise Thee.
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