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The Confessions Of Saint Augustine

    

 

   Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power,

   and Thy wisdom infinite. And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle

   of Thy creation; man, that bears about him his mortality, the witness

   of his sin, the witness that Thou resistest the proud: yet would man

   praise Thee; he, but a particle of Thy creation. Thou awakest us to

   delight in Thy praise; for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is

   restless, until it repose in Thee. Grant me, Lord, to know and

   understand which is first, to call on Thee or to praise Thee? and,

   again, to know Thee or to call on Thee? for who can call on Thee, not

   knowing Thee? for he that knoweth Thee not, may call on Thee as other

   than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that we call on Thee that we may know

   Thee? but how shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? or

   how shall they believe without a preacher? and they that seek the Lord

   shall praise Him: for they that seek shall find Him, and they that find

   shall praise Him. I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will

   call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached. My

   faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith

   Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the

   ministry of the Preacher.

    

 

   And how shall I call upon my God, my God and Lord, since, when I call

   for Him, I shall be calling Him to myself? and what room is there

   within me, whither my God can come into me? whither can God come into

   me, God who made heaven and earth? is there, indeed, O Lord my God,

   aught in me that can contain Thee? do then heaven and earth, which Thou

   hast made, and wherein Thou hast made me, contain Thee? or, because

   nothing which exists could exist without Thee, doth therefore whatever

   exists contain Thee? Since, then, I too exist, why do I seek that Thou

   shouldest enter into me, who were not, wert Thou not in me? Why?

   because I am not gone down in hell, and yet Thou art there also. For if

   I go down into hell, Thou art there. I could not be then, O my God,

   could not be at all, wert Thou not in me; or, rather, unless I were in

   Thee, of whom are all things, by whom are all things, in whom are all

   things? Even so, Lord, even so. Whither do I call Thee, since I am in

   Thee? or whence canst Thou enter into me? for whither can I go beyond

   heaven and earth, that thence my God should come into me, who hath

   said, I fill the heaven and the earth.

    

 

   Do the heaven and earth then contain Thee, since Thou fillest them? or

   dost Thou fill them and yet overflow, since they do not contain Thee?

   And whither, when the heaven and the earth are filled, pourest Thou

   forth the remainder of Thyself? or hast Thou no need that aught contain

   Thee, who containest all things, since what Thou fillest Thou fillest

   by containing it? for the vessels which Thou fillest uphold Thee not,

   since, though they were broken, Thou wert not poured out. And when Thou

   art poured out on us, Thou art not cast down, but Thou upliftest us;

   Thou art not dissipated, but Thou gatherest us. But Thou who fillest

   all things, fillest Thou them with Thy whole self? or, since all things

   cannot contain Thee wholly, do they contain part of Thee? and all at

   once the same part? or each its own part, the greater more, the smaller

   less? And is, then, one part of Thee greater, another less? or, art

   Thou wholly every where, while nothing contains Thee wholly?

    

 

   What art Thou then, my God? what, but the Lord God? For who is Lord but

   the Lord? or who is God save our God? Most highest, most good, most

   potent, most omnipotent; most merciful, yet most just; most hidden, yet

   most present; most beautiful, yet most strong, stable, yet

   incomprehensible; unchangeable, yet all-changing; never new, never old;

   all-renewing, and bringing age upon the proud, and they know it not;

   ever working, ever at rest; still gathering, yet nothing lacking;

   supporting, filling, and overspreading; creating, nourishing, and

   maturing; seeking, yet having all things. Thou lovest, without passion;

   art jealous, without anxiety; repentest, yet grievest not; art angry,

   yet serene; changest Thy works, Thy purpose unchanged; receivest again

   what Thou findest, yet didst never lose; never in need, yet rejoicing

   in gains; never covetous, yet exacting usury. Thou receivest over and

   above, that Thou mayest owe; and who hath aught that is not Thine? Thou

   payest debts, owing nothing; remittest debts, losing nothing. And what

   had I now said, my God, my life, my holy joy? or what saith any man

   when he speaks of Thee? Yet woe to him that speaketh not, since mute

   are even the most eloquent.

    

 

 

   Oh! that I might repose on Thee! Oh! that Thou wouldest enter into my

   heart, and inebriate it, that I may forget my ills, and embrace Thee,

   my sole good! What art Thou to me? In Thy pity, teach me to utter it.

   Or what am I to Thee that Thou demandest my love, and, if I give it

   not, art wroth with me, and threatenest me with grievous woes? Is it

   then a slight woe to love Thee not? Oh! for Thy mercies' sake, tell me,

   O Lord my God, what Thou art unto me. Say unto my soul, I am thy

   salvation. So speak, that I may hear. Behold, Lord, my heart is before

   Thee; open Thou the ears thereof, and say unto my soul, I am thy

   salvation. After this voice let me haste, and take hold on Thee. Hide

   not Thy face from me. Let me die--lest I die--only let me see Thy face.

 

   Narrow is the mansion of my soul; enlarge Thou it, that Thou mayest

   enter in. It is ruinous; repair Thou it. It has that within which must

   offend Thine eyes; I confess and know it. But who shall cleanse it? or

   to whom should I cry, save Thee? Lord, cleanse me from my secret

   faults, and spare Thy servant from the power of the enemy. I believe,

   and therefore do I speak. Lord, Thou knowest. Have I not confessed

   against myself my transgressions unto Thee, and Thou, my God, hast

   forgiven the iniquity of my heart? I contend not in judgment with Thee,

   who art the truth; I fear to deceive myself; lest mine iniquity lie

   unto itself. Therefore I contend not in judgment with Thee; for if

   Thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall abide it?

    

 

 

   Yet suffer me to speak unto Thy mercy, me, dust and ashes. Yet suffer

   me to speak, since I speak to Thy mercy, and not to scornful man. Thou

   too, perhaps, despisest me, yet wilt Thou return and have compassion

   upon me. For what would I say, O Lord my God, but that I know not

   whence I came into this dying life (shall I call it?) or living death.

   Then immediately did the comforts of Thy compassion take me up, as I

   heard (for I remember it not) from the parents of my flesh, out of

   whose substance Thou didst sometime fashion me. Thus there received me

   the comforts of woman's milk. For neither my mother nor my nurses

   stored their own breasts for me; but Thou didst bestow the food of my

   infancy through them, according to Thine ordinance, whereby Thou

   distributest Thy riches through the hidden springs of all things. Thou

   also gavest me to desire no more than Thou gavest; and to my nurses

   willingly to give me what Thou gavest them. For they, with a

   heaven-taught affection, willingly gave me what they abounded with from

   Thee. For this my good from them, was good for them. Nor, indeed, from

   them was it, but through them; for from Thee, O God, are all good

   things, and from my God is all my health. This I since learned, Thou,

   through these Thy gifts, within me and without, proclaiming Thyself

   unto me. For then I knew but to suck; to repose in what pleased, and

   cry at what offended my flesh; nothing more.

 

   Afterwards I began to smile; first in sleep, then waking: for so it was

   told me of myself, and I believed it; for we see the like in other

   infants, though of myself I remember it not. Thus, little by little, I

   became conscious where I was; and to have a wish to express my wishes

   to those who could content them, and I could not; for the wishes were

   within me, and they without; nor could they by any sense of theirs

   enter within my spirit. So I flung about at random limbs and voice,

   making the few signs I could, and such as I could, like, though in

   truth very little like, what I wished. And when I was not presently

   obeyed (my wishes being hurtful or unintelligible), then I was

   indignant with my elders for not submitting to me, with those owing me

   no service, for not serving me; and avenged myself on them by tears.

   Such have I learnt infants to be from observing them; and that I was

   myself such, they, all unconscious, have shown me better than my nurses

   who knew it.

 

   And, lo! my infancy died long since, and I live. But Thou, Lord, who

   for ever livest, and in whom nothing dies: for before the foundation of

   the worlds, and before all that can be called "before," Thou art, and

   art God and Lord of all which Thou hast created: in Thee abide, fixed

   for ever, the first causes of all things unabiding; and of all things

   changeable, the springs abide in Thee unchangeable: and in Thee live

   the eternal reasons of all things unreasoning and temporal. Say, Lord,

   to me, Thy suppliant; say, all-pitying, to me, Thy pitiable one; say,

   did my infancy succeed another age of mine that died before it? was it

   that which I spent within my mother's womb? for of that I have heard

   somewhat, and have myself seen women with child? and what before that

   life again, O God my joy, was I any where or any body? For this have I

   none to tell me, neither father nor mother, nor experience of others,

   nor mine own memory. Dost Thou mock me for asking this, and bid me

   praise Thee and acknowledge Thee, for that I do know?

 

   I acknowledge Thee, Lord of heaven and earth, and praise Thee for my

   first rudiments of being, and my infancy, whereof I remember nothing;

   for Thou hast appointed that man should from others guess much as to

   himself; and believe much on the strength of weak females. Even then I

   had being and life, and (at my infancy's close) I could seek for signs

   whereby to make known to others my sensations. Whence could such a

   being be, save from Thee, Lord? Shall any be his own artificer? or can

   there elsewhere be derived any vein, which may stream essence and life

   into us, save from thee, O Lord, in whom essence and life are one? for

   Thou Thyself art supremely Essence and Life. For Thou art most high,

   and art not changed, neither in Thee doth to-day come to a close; yet

   in Thee doth it come to a close; because all such things also are in

   Thee. For they had no way to pass away, unless Thou upheldest them. And

   since Thy years fail not, Thy years are one to-day. How many of ours

   and our fathers' years have flowed away through Thy "to-day," and from

   it received the measure and the mould of such being as they had; and

   still others shall flow away, and so receive the mould of their degree

   of being. But Thou art still the same, and all things of tomorrow, and

   all beyond, and all of yesterday, and all behind it, Thou hast done

   to-day. What is it to me, though any comprehend not this? Let him also

   rejoice and say, What thing is this? Let him rejoice even thus! and be

   content rather by not discovering to discover Thee, than by discovering

   not to discover Thee.

    

 

 

   Hear, O God. Alas, for man's sin! So saith man, and Thou pitiest him;

   for Thou madest him, but sin in him Thou madest not. Who remindeth me

   of the sins of my infancy? for in Thy sight none is pure from sin, not

   even the infant whose life is but a day upon the earth. Who remindeth

   me? doth not each little infant, in whom I see what of myself I

   remember not? What then was my sin? was it that I hung upon the breast

   and cried? for should I now so do for food suitable to my age, justly

   should I be laughed at and reproved. What I then did was worthy

   reproof; but since I could not understand reproof, custom and reason

   forbade me to be reproved. For those habits, when grown, we root out

   and cast away. Now no man, though he prunes, wittingly casts away what

   is good. Or was it then good, even for a while, to cry for what, if

   given, would hurt? bitterly to resent, that persons free, and its own

   elders, yea, the very authors of its birth, served it not? that many

   besides, wiser than it, obeyed not the nod of its good pleasure? to do

   its best to strike and hurt, because commands were not obeyed, which

   had been obeyed to its hurt? The weakness then of infant limbs, not its

   will, is its innocence. Myself have seen and known even a baby envious;

   it could not speak, yet it turned pale and looked bitterly on its

   foster-brother. Who knows not this? Mothers and nurses tell you that

   they allay these things by I know not what remedies. Is that too

   innocence, when the fountain of milk is flowing in rich abundance, not

   to endure one to share it, though in extremest need, and whose very

   life as yet depends thereon? We bear gently with all this, not as being

   no or slight evils, but because they will disappear as years increase;

   for, though tolerated now, the very same tempers are utterly

   intolerable when found in riper years.

 

   Thou, then, O Lord my God, who gavest life to this my infancy,

   furnishing thus with senses (as we see) the frame Thou gavest,

   compacting its limbs, ornamenting its proportions, and, for its general

   good and safety, implanting in it all vital functions, Thou commandest

   me to praise Thee in these things, to confess unto Thee, and sing unto

   Thy name, Thou most Highest. For Thou art God, Almighty and Good, even

   hadst Thou done nought but only this, which none could do but Thou:

   whose Unity is the mould of all things; who out of Thy own fairness

   makest all things fair; and orderest all things by Thy law. This age

   then, Lord, whereof I have no remembrance, which I take on others'

   word, and guess from other infants that I have passed, true though the

   guess be, I am yet loth to count in this life of mine which I live in

   this world. For no less than that which I spent in my mother's womb, is

   it hid from me in the shadows of forgetfulness. But if I was shapen in

   iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me, where, I beseech Thee,

   O my God, where, Lord, or when, was I Thy servant guiltless? But, lo!

   that period I pass by; and what have I now to do with that, of which I

   can recall no vestige?

    

 

 

   Passing hence from infancy, I came to boyhood, or rather it came to me,

   displacing infancy. Nor did that depart,--(for whither went it?)--and

   yet it was no more. For I was no longer a speechless infant, but a

   speaking boy. This I remember; and have since observed how I learned to

   speak. It was not that my elders taught me words (as, soon after, other

   learning) in any set method; but I, longing by cries and broken accents

   and various motions of my limbs to express my thoughts, that so I might

   have my will, and yet unable to express all I willed, or to whom I

   willed, did myself, by the understanding which Thou, my God, gavest me,

   practise the sounds in my memory. When they named any thing, and as

   they spoke turned towards it, I saw and remembered that they called

   what they would point out by the name they uttered. And that they meant

   this thing and no other was plain from the motion of their body, the

   natural language, as it were, of all nations, expressed by the

   countenance, glances of the eye, gestures of the limbs, and tones of

   the voice, indicating the affections of the mind, as it pursues,

   possesses, rejects, or shuns. And thus by constantly hearing words, as

   they occurred in various sentences, I collected gradually for what they

   stood; and having broken in my mouth to these signs, I thereby gave

   utterance to my will. Thus I exchanged with those about me these

   current signs of our wills, and so launched deeper into the stormy

   intercourse of human life, yet depending on parental authority and the

   beck of elders.

    

 

 

   O God my God, what miseries and mockeries did I now experience, when

   obedience to my teachers was proposed to me, as proper in a boy, in

   order that in this world I might prosper, and excel in tongue-science,

   which should serve to the "praise of men," and to deceitful riches.

   Next I was put to school to get learning, in which I (poor wretch) knew

   not what use there was; and yet, if idle in learning, I was beaten. For

   this was judged right by our forefathers; and many, passing the same

   course before us, framed for us weary paths, through which we were fain

   to pass; multiplying toil and grief upon the sons of Adam. But, Lord,

   we found that men called upon Thee, and we learnt from them to think of

   Thee (according to our powers) as of some great One, who, though hidden

   from our senses, couldest hear and help us. For so I began, as a boy,

   to pray to Thee, my aid and refuge; and broke the fetters of my tongue

   to call on Thee, praying Thee, though small, yet with no small

   earnestness, that I might not be beaten at school. And when Thou

   heardest me not (not thereby giving me over to folly), my elders, yea

   my very parents, who yet wished me no ill, mocked my stripes, my then

   great and grievous ill.

 

   Is there, Lord, any of soul so great, and cleaving to Thee with so

   intense affection (for a sort of stupidity will in a way do it); but is

   there any one who, from cleaving devoutly to Thee, is endued with so

   great a spirit, that he can think as lightly of the racks and hooks and

   other torments (against which, throughout all lands, men call on Thee

   with extreme dread), mocking at those by whom they are feared most

   bitterly, as our parents mocked the torments which we suffered in

   boyhood from our masters? For we feared not our torments less; nor

   prayed we less to Thee to escape them. And yet we sinned, in writing or

   reading or studying less than was exacted of us. For we wanted not, O

   Lord, memory or capacity, whereof Thy will gave enough for our age; but

   our sole delight was play; and for this we were punished by those who

   yet themselves were doing the like. But elder folks' idleness is called

   "business"; that of boys, being really the same, is punished by those

   elders; and none commiserates either boys or men. For will any of sound

   discretion approve of my being beaten as a boy, because, by playing a

   ball, I made less progress in studies which I was to learn, only that,

   as a man, I might play more unbeseemingly? and what else did he who

   beat me? who, if worsted in some trifling discussion with his

   fellow-tutor, was more embittered and jealous than I when beaten at

   ball by a play-fellow?

    

 

 

   And yet, I sinned herein, O Lord God, the Creator and Disposer of all

   things in nature, of sin the Disposer only, O Lord my God, I sinned in

   transgressing the commands of my parents and those of my masters. For

   what they, with whatever motive, would have me learn, I might

   afterwards have put to good use. For I disobeyed, not from a better

   choice, but from love of play, loving the pride of victory in my

   contests, and to have my ears tickled with lying fables, that they

   might itch the more; the same curiosity flashing from my eyes more and

   more, for the shows and games of my elders. Yet those who give these

   shows are in such esteem, that almost all wish the same for their

   children, and yet are very willing that they should be beaten, if those

   very games detain them from the studies, whereby they would have them

   attain to be the givers of them. Look with pity, Lord, on these things,

   and deliver us who call upon Thee now; deliver those too who call not

   on Thee yet, that they may call on Thee, and Thou mayest deliver them.

    

 

 

   As a boy, then, I had already heard of an eternal life, promised us

   through the humility of the Lord our God stooping to our pride; and

   even from the womb of my mother, who greatly hoped in Thee, I was

   sealed with the mark of His cross and salted with His salt. Thou

   sawest, Lord, how while yet a boy, being seized on a time with sudden

   oppression of the stomach, and like near to death--Thou sawest, my God

   (for Thou wert my keeper), with what eagerness and what faith I sought,

   from the pious care of my mother and Thy Church, the mother of us all,

   the baptism of Thy Christ, my God and Lord. Whereupon the mother of my

   flesh, being much troubled (since, with a heart pure in Thy faith, she

   even more lovingly travailed in birth of my salvation), would in eager

   haste have provided for my consecration and cleansing by the

   health-giving sacraments, confessing Thee, Lord Jesus, for the

   remission of sins, unless I had suddenly recovered. And so, as if I

   must needs be again polluted should I live, my cleansing was deferred,

   because the defilements of sin would, after that washing, bring greater

   and more perilous guilt. I then already believed: and my mother, and

   the whole household, except my father: yet did not he prevail over the

   power of my mother's piety in me, that as he did not yet believe, so

   neither should I. For it was her earnest care that Thou my God, rather

   than he, shouldest be my father; and in this Thou didst aid her to

   prevail over her husband, whom she, the better, obeyed, therein also

   obeying Thee, who hast so commanded.

 

   I beseech Thee, my God, I would fain know, if so Thou willest, for what

   purpose my baptism was then deferred? was it for my good that the rein

   was laid loose, as it were, upon me, for me to sin? or was it not laid

   loose? If not, why does it still echo in our ears on all sides, "Let

   him alone, let him do as he will, for he is not yet baptised?" but as

   to bodily health, no one says, "Let him be worse wounded, for he is not

   yet healed." How much better then, had I been at once healed; and then,

   by my friends' and my own, my soul's recovered health had been kept

   safe in Thy keeping who gavest it. Better truly. But how many and great

   waves of temptation seemed to hang over me after my boyhood! These my

   mother foresaw; and preferred to expose to them the clay whence I might

   afterwards be moulded, than the very cast, when made.

    

 

 

   In boyhood itself, however (so much less dreaded for me than youth), I

   loved not study, and hated to be forced to it. Yet I was forced; and

   this was well done towards me, but I did not well; for, unless forced,

   I had not learnt. But no one doth well against his will, even though

   what he doth, be well. Yet neither did they well who forced me, but

   what was well came to me from Thee, my God. For they were regardless

   how I should employ what they forced me to learn, except to satiate the

   insatiate desires of a wealthy beggary, and a shameful glory. But Thou,

   by whom the very hairs of our head are numbered, didst use for my good

   the error of all who urged me to learn; and my own, who would not

   learn, Thou didst use for my punishment--a fit penalty for one, so

   small a boy and so great a sinner. So by those who did not well, Thou

   didst well for me; and by my own sin Thou didst justly punish me. For

   Thou hast commanded, and so it is, that every inordinate affection

   should be its own punishment.

    

 

 

   But why did I so much hate the Greek, which I studied as a boy? I do

   not yet fully know. For the Latin I loved; not what my first masters,

   but what the so-called grammarians taught me. For those first lessons,

   reading, writing and arithmetic, I thought as great a burden and

   penalty as any Greek. And yet whence was this too, but from the sin and

   vanity of this life, because I was flesh, and a breath that passeth

   away and cometh not again? For those first lessons were better

   certainly, because more certain; by them I obtained, and still retain,

   the power of reading what I find written, and myself writing what I

   will; whereas in the others, I was forced to learn the wanderings of

   one Aeneas, forgetful of my own, and to weep for dead Dido, because she

   killed herself for love; the while, with dry eyes, I endured my

   miserable self dying among these things, far from Thee, O God my life.

 

   For what more miserable than a miserable being who commiserates not

   himself; weeping the death of Dido for love to Aeneas, but weeping not

   his own death for want of love to Thee, O God. Thou light of my heart,

   Thou bread of my inmost soul, Thou Power who givest vigour to my mind,

   who quickenest my thoughts, I loved Thee not. I committed fornication

   against Thee, and all around me thus fornicating there echoed "Well

   done! well done!" for the friendship of this world is fornication

   against Thee; and "Well done! well done!" echoes on till one is ashamed

   not to be thus a man. And for all this I wept not, I who wept for Dido

   slain, and "seeking by the sword a stroke and wound extreme," myself

   seeking the while a worse extreme, the extremest and lowest of Thy

   creatures, having forsaken Thee, earth passing into the earth. And if

   forbid to read all this, I was grieved that I might not read what

   grieved me. Madness like this is thought a higher and a richer

   learning, than that by which I learned to read and write.

 

   But now, my God, cry Thou aloud in my soul; and let Thy truth tell me,

   "Not so, not so. Far better was that first study." For, lo, I would

   readily forget the wanderings of Aeneas and all the rest, rather than

   how to read and write. But over the entrance of the Grammar School is a

   vail drawn! true; yet is this not so much an emblem of aught recondite,

   as a cloak of error. Let not those, whom I no longer fear, cry out

   against me, while I confess to Thee, my God, whatever my soul will, and

   acquiesce in the condemnation of my evil ways, that I may love Thy good

   ways. Let not either buyers or sellers of grammar-learning cry out

   against me. For if I question them whether it be true that Aeneas came

   on a time to Carthage, as the poet tells, the less learned will reply

   that they know not, the more learned that he never did. But should I

   ask with what letters the name "Aeneas" is written, every one who has

   learnt this will answer me aright, as to the signs which men have

   conventionally settled. If, again, I should ask which might be

   forgotten with least detriment to the concerns of life, reading and

   writing or these poetic fictions? who does not foresee what all must

   answer who have not wholly forgotten themselves? I sinned, then, when

   as a boy I preferred those empty to those more profitable studies, or

   rather loved the one and hated the other. "One and one, two"; "two and

   two, four"; this was to me a hateful singsong: "the wooden horse lined

   with armed men," and "the burning of Troy," and "Creusa's shade and sad

   similitude," were the choice spectacle of my vanity.

    

 

 

   Why then did I hate the Greek classics, which have the like tales? For

   Homer also curiously wove the like fictions, and is most sweetly-vain,

   yet was he bitter to my boyish taste. And so I suppose would Virgil be

   to Grecian children, when forced to learn him as I was Homer.

   Difficulty, in truth, the difficulty of a foreign tongue, dashed, as it

   were, with gall all the sweetness of Grecian fable. For not one word of

   it did I understand, and to make me understand I was urged vehemently

   with cruel threats and punishments. Time was also (as an infant) I knew

   no Latin; but this I learned without fear or suffering, by mere

   observation, amid the caresses of my nursery and jests of friends,

   smiling and sportively encouraging me. This I learned without any

   pressure of punishment to urge me on, for my heart urged me to give

   birth to its conceptions, which I could only do by learning words not

   of those who taught, but of those who talked with me; in whose ears

   also I gave birth to the thoughts, whatever I conceived. No doubt,

   then, that a free curiosity has more force in our learning these

   things, than a frightful enforcement. Only this enforcement restrains

   the rovings of that freedom, through Thy laws, O my God, Thy laws, from

   the master's cane to the martyr's trials, being able to temper for us a

   wholesome bitter, recalling us to Thyself from that deadly pleasure

   which lures us from Thee.

    

 

 

   Hear, Lord, my prayer; let not my soul faint under Thy discipline, nor

   let me faint in confessing unto Thee all Thy mercies, whereby Thou hast

   drawn me out of all my most evil ways, that Thou mightest become a

   delight to me above all the allurements which I once pursued; that I

   may most entirely love Thee, and clasp Thy hand with all my affections,

   and Thou mayest yet rescue me from every temptation, even unto the end.

   For lo, O Lord, my King and my God, for Thy service be whatever useful

   thing my childhood learned; for Thy service, that I speak, write, read,

   reckon. For Thou didst grant me Thy discipline, while I was learning

   vanities; and my sin of delighting in those vanities Thou hast

   forgiven. In them, indeed, I learnt many a useful word, but these may

   as well be learned in things not vain; and that is the safe path for

   the steps of youth.

    

 

 

   But woe is thee, thou torrent of human custom! Who shall stand against

   thee? how long shalt thou not be dried up? how long roll the sons of

   Eve into that huge and hideous ocean, which even they scarcely overpass

   who climb the cross? Did not I read in thee of Jove the thunderer and

   the adulterer? both, doubtless, he could not be; but so the feigned

   thunder might countenance and pander to real adultery. And now which of

   our gowned masters lends a sober ear to one who from their own school

   cries out, "These were Homer's fictions, transferring things human to

   the gods; would he had brought down things divine to us!" Yet more

   truly had he said, "These are indeed his fictions; but attributing a

   divine nature to wicked men, that crimes might be no longer crimes, and

   whoso commits them might seem to imitate not abandoned men, but the

   celestial gods."

 

   And yet, thou hellish torrent, into thee are cast the sons of men with

   rich rewards, for compassing such learning; and a great solemnity is

   made of it, when this is going on in the forum, within sight of laws

   appointing a salary beside the scholar's payments; and thou lashest thy

   rocks and roarest, "Hence words are learnt; hence eloquence; most

   necessary to gain your ends, or maintain opinions." As if we should

   have never known such words as "golden shower," "lap," "beguile,"

   "temples of the heavens," or others in that passage, unless Terence had

   brought a lewd youth upon the stage, setting up Jupiter as his example

   of seduction.

 

 

   "Viewing a picture, where the tale was drawn,

 

   Of Jove's descending in a golden shower

 

   To Danae's lap a woman to beguile."

 

   And then mark how he excites himself to lust as by celestial authority:

 

 

      "And what God? Great Jove,

 

   Who shakes heaven's highest temples with his thunder,

 

   And I, poor mortal man, not do the same!

 

   I did it, and with all my heart I did it."

 

   Not one whit more easily are the words learnt for all this vileness;

   but by their means the vileness is committed with less shame. Not that

   I blame the words, being, as it were, choice and precious vessels; but

   that wine of error which is drunk to us in them by intoxicated

   teachers; and if we, too, drink not, we are beaten, and have no sober

   judge to whom we may appeal. Yet, O my God (in whose presence I now

   without hurt may remember this), all this unhappily I learnt willingly

   with great delight, and for this was pronounced a hopeful boy.

    

 

 

   Bear with me, my God, while I say somewhat of my wit, Thy gift, and on

   what dotages I wasted it. For a task was set me, troublesome enough to

   my soul, upon terms of praise or shame, and fear of stripes, to speak

   the words of Juno, as she raged and mourned that she could not

 

 

   "This Trojan prince from Latinum turn."

 

   Which words I had heard that Juno never uttered; but we were forced to

   go astray in the footsteps of these poetic fictions, and to say in

   prose much what he expressed in verse. And his speaking was most

   applauded, in whom the passions of rage and grief were most preeminent,

   and clothed in the most fitting language, maintaining the dignity of

   the character. What is it to me, O my true life, my God, that my

   declamation was applauded above so many of my own age and class? is not

   all this smoke and wind? and was there nothing else whereon to exercise

   my wit and tongue? Thy praises, Lord, Thy praises might have stayed the

   yet tender shoot of my heart by the prop of Thy Scriptures; so had it

   not trailed away amid these empty trifles, a defiled prey for the fowls

   of the air. For in more ways than one do men sacrifice to the

   rebellious angels.

    

 

 

   But what marvel that I was thus carried away to vanities, and went out

   from Thy presence, O my God, when men were set before me as models,

   who, if in relating some action of theirs, in itself not ill, they

   committed some barbarism or solecism, being censured, were abashed; but

   when in rich and adomed and well-ordered discourse they related their

   own disordered life, being bepraised, they gloried? These things Thou

   seest, Lord, and holdest Thy peace; long-suffering, and plenteous in

   mercy and truth. Wilt Thou hold Thy peace for ever? and even now Thou

   drawest out of this horrible gulf the soul that seeketh Thee, that

   thirsteth for Thy pleasures, whose heart saith unto Thee, I have sought

   Thy face; Thy face, Lord, will I seek. For darkened affections is

   removal from Thee. For it is not by our feet, or change of place, that

   men leave Thee, or return unto Thee. Or did that Thy younger son look

   out for horses or chariots, or ships, fly with visible wings, or

   journey by the motion of his limbs, that he might in a far country

   waste in riotous living all Thou gavest at his departure? a loving

   Father, when Thou gavest, and more loving unto him, when he returned

   empty. So then in lustful, that is, in darkened affections, is the true

   distance from Thy face.

 

   Behold, O Lord God, yea, behold patiently as Thou art wont how

   carefully the sons of men observe the covenanted rules of letters and

   syllables received from those who spake before them, neglecting the

   eternal covenant of everlasting salvation received from Thee. Insomuch,

   that a teacher or learner of the hereditary laws of pronunciation will

   more offend men by speaking without the aspirate, of a "uman being," in

   despite of the laws of grammar, than if he, a "human being," hate a

   "human being" in despite of Thine. As if any enemy could be more

   hurtful than the hatred with which he is incensed against him; or could

   wound more deeply him whom he persecutes, than he wounds his own soul

   by his enmity. Assuredly no science of letters can be so innate as the

   record of conscience, "that he is doing to another what from another he

   would be loth to suffer." How deep are Thy ways, O God, Thou only

   great, that sittest silent on high and by an unwearied law dispensing

   penal blindness to lawless desires. In quest of the fame of eloquence,

   a man standing before a human judge, surrounded by a human throng,

   declaiming against his enemy with fiercest hatred, will take heed most

   watchfully, lest, by an error of the tongue, he murder the word "human

   being"; but takes no heed, lest, through the fury of his spirit, he

   murder the real human being.

 

   This was the world at whose gate unhappy I lay in my boyhood; this the

   stage where I had feared more to commit a barbarism, than having

   committed one, to envy those who had not. These things I speak and

   confess to Thee, my God; for which I had praise from them, whom I then

   thought it all virtue to please. For I saw not the abyss of vileness,

   wherein I was cast away from Thine eyes. Before them what more foul

   than I was already, displeasing even such as myself? with innumerable

   lies deceiving my tutor, my masters, my parents, from love of play,

   eagerness to see vain shows and restlessness to imitate them! Thefts

   also I committed, from my parents' cellar and table, enslaved by

   greediness, or that I might have to give to boys, who sold me their

   play, which all the while they liked no less than I. In this play, too,

   I often sought unfair conquests, conquered myself meanwhile by vain

   desire of preeminence. And what could I so ill endure, or, when I

   detected it, upbraided I so fiercely, as that I was doing to others?

   and for which if, detected, I was upbraided, I chose rather to quarrel

   than to yield. And is this the innocence of boyhood? Not so, Lord, not

   so; I cry Thy mercy, my God. For these very sins, as riper years

   succeed, these very sins are transferred from tutors and masters, from

   nuts and balls and sparrows, to magistrates and kings, to gold and

   manors and slaves, just as severer punishments displace the cane. It

   was the low stature then of childhood which Thou our King didst commend

   as an emblem of lowliness, when Thou saidst, Of such is the kingdom of

   heaven.

 

   Yet, Lord, to Thee, the Creator and Governor of the universe, most

   excellent and most good, thanks were due to Thee our God, even hadst

   Thou destined for me boyhood only. For even then I was, I lived, and

   felt; and had an implanted providence over my well-being--a trace of

   that mysterious Unity whence I was derived; I guarded by the inward

   sense the entireness of my senses, and in these minute pursuits, and in

   my thoughts on things minute, I learnt to delight in truth, I hated to

   be deceived, had a vigorous memory, was gifted with speech, was soothed

   by friendship, avoided pain, baseness, ignorance. In so small a

   creature, what was not wonderful, not admirable? But all are gifts of

   my God: it was not I who gave them me; and good these are, and these

   together are myself. Good, then, is He that made me, and He is my good;

   and before Him will I exult for every good which of a boy I had. For it

   was my sin, that not in Him, but in His creatures--myself and others--I

   sought for pleasures, sublimities, truths, and so fell headlong into

   sorrows, confusions, errors. Thanks be to Thee, my joy and my glory and

   my confidence, my God, thanks be to Thee for Thy gifts; but do Thou

   preserve them to me. For so wilt Thou preserve me, and those things

   shall be enlarged and perfected which Thou hast given me, and I myself

   shall be with Thee, since even to be Thou hast given me.

    

 

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