A rule for spirituall life.

MArke well (my daughter) for since I see thee giue better eare, & apply thy minde with more dilligence to carrie away my speeches: I will pro­ceed in declaring these thinges vnto thee, which I require at thy handes: continue therfore attentiue, & return nowe wholie vnto mee, beeing readie in all thinges to obey mee. Put on a new minde, and heare what I expect that thou shouldest do, and what thou art not able of thy selfe to do, let prai­er assist thee to fulfill. Seek to obtaine by praier whatsoeuer is necessarie for thee, saying: Deliuer me from my e­nemies, O Lorde, I fly vnto thee for succour, teach me to doe thy will, be­cause thou art my God: leaue me not O Lord my God, & depart not from me, neither yet dispise mee, which art the God of my saluation.

[Page 24] Incline thy selfe to helpe mee O Lord, the God of my safetie. Behold I desire to returne vnto thee, draw me after thee, and neuer suffer me againe to bee seperated or withdrawne from thee. O my daughter, hearken now to that which I gaue in commaunde­ment to one of my seruants long agoe, and endeuour thou also to fulfill it. I said vnto him.

The same words in the same forme doo I speake vnto thee, hauing made it in the true measure of a verse (al­though thou shalt haue lesse neede of a measure to direct thee when thou art come to this perfection. But I doo not now deliuer it vnto thee, as framed in measure to please thine eares, but as a foueraigne medicine to cure thy soule. I haue comprehended al those thinges, which are necessarie for thee [Page 25] briefely in this verse, that thou mayest more easilie retaine them in thy me­morie, and more often meditate vpon them in thy minde. For my will is, that thou shouldest altogther applie thy endeuour, to haue a holye compunction for thy sinnes, and that leauing all other businesse aside, thou shouldest onely attend to a continuall and eternall conuersation, and remai­ning weaned from all other pleasures, to be recollected into thine own selfe, and so to continue alwaies free from a­ny distraction or perturbation whatso­euer. Bee silent in thy tongue, & pure from all filthines in thy heart. Be hum­ble and meek, and remember to shew thy selfe both curteous and gentle in all thy behauiour towards all sortes of men. First of all, diligently examine thy selfe, and looke most neerely and narrowlie into thy selfe, that thou mai­est know what is in thee, which is an impediment to thee, for the receiuing of my grace, that is to say, what is in thee which dooth displease mee, that thou mayest correct & amend it. Con­sider [Page 26] to what things, & by what means thou art tempted, and where thou se­est thy selfe most sharpely and oftnest tempted, there seeke to resist them with greatest dilligence, and most ear­nest endeuour. VVhere thou findest thy selfe weaker, there appile more forcible remedies quickly to vanquish them. VVhere thou perceiuest any occasion which moueth thee to sin, or not to profitte in this spirituall course, there cut off that scandall and impedi­ment from thee.

Haue speciall care to present vnto mee, a pure hart: free from all vnclea­nesse, and neuer infected with any in­ordinate loue to my creatures, nor oc­cupied with any vnnecessary businesse in this worlde, and labour euermore withall that thou art able, wholie to cleaue vnto mee, and still to rely vp­pon mee. The cause why I do exhort thee, to a continuall exercise of com­punction, is that by it thou maiest keep thy selfe free frō forraine or wandring thoughts, which thou cāst neuer attain vnto, except thou bee recollected in [Page 27] thy mind. Neither canst thou come to be thus recollected, except thou lead an internall and solitarie life, priuate to thy self & withdrawne from al world­ly affaires. VVherefore marke with a watchfull eye those vices, concupisen­ces and wicked inclinationes which raigne in thee, that thou mayest ne­uer cease with all thy might to perse­cute them, & willingly to mortefie in thy selfe all inordinate affections.

Many complaine that they are vn­apt for contemplation & spiritual life, but their owne negligence and slouth is the cause: for that they will straine themselues no whit to conquere theyr old man, that they may mortefie all lusts and concupisences, but doe nou­rish, cherish, & fauour thē which they ought to persecute, & root out of their minds. Therfore they carrie alwaies a­bout them a heauy burden of vnquiet thoughts, filled with labor & vexation. but if thou desire to enioy me, haue no peace at all with any vice.

Banish from thee all vnprofitable discourses, cares, and businesses which yeelde no benefitte at all to thy soule. [Page 28] And neuer applie thy minde to the thinking of any other matter, nor trou­ble thy selfe with anye other affaires, but such as tend to my honour, the saluatiō of thy own soule, or the com­modity of thy neighbour, that thou being thus alone and in this sort retired within thy selfe, mayest bee possessed with me, who will neuer bee matched with any other companion.

How wee must mortefie all vnlaw­full desires and wicked incli­nations.

VOuchsafe not to heare, much lesse to read any newes, tydings, or pleasant Histories, which serue not to procure a compunction in thy hart, but to delight a curious minde, and af­terward doe leaue thy soule corrupted and infected with sundry imaginations and vaine desires. Fly any speciall fa­miliaritie, lyking or conuersation with worldly men, that is to say, with those that loue these earthly pleasures, yea enter not into any league of familiari­tie, [Page 29] good will, and speciall conuersati­on with any such man, whose words & deedes doe not edefie thee in this ver­tuous course, but auoide his company, and mortefie all sensuall loue in thy selfe, towardes any of my creatures. Haue such a commandement ouer thy bellie, as that thou allow it only neces­sarie thinges, and that also not for the pleasing of thy taste, but for the sustei­ning of nature, and for my sake, that by this meane thou mayest not decay, but encrease in abillitie to serue mee. Moreouer, neuer receiue any thing to delight thy taste which is not necessa­rie and profitable for thy bodie, and especiallye when thou mayest obserue this without the breach of brotherlie charitie. Roote out also from thy mind after this sort, and faile not both to flie and abhor all pleasant thinges, all vo­luptuous thinges, and all such thinges as seeme sweet to thy carnall appetite, as (farre as discreation wil permit thee, which doth quallefie all extremitie e­uer hauing a respect to charitie, to in­firmitie, to the necessitie of nature, and [Page 30] to euery other thing that is conueni­ent) and euermore take a special care that in this gouernment of thy selfe, thou doost persecute concupiscence, but not destroy nature. And as touch­ing those thinges which are necessarie, and yet cannot bee receaued without some delight. It is sufficient for thee if thou doost not seeke that delight but in respect of mee, that is to obey mee, who haue committed the care of thy body to thy selfe to refreshe the infir­mitie of thy nature, so as thou takest this delight not as a thing which thou wishest for, but as a thing that can not be seperated from that which is neces­sarie for mans vse, admitting it only for necessitie, and not desiring it for plea­sure. Therfore to bee short, haue such a care and watch ouer all thy senses, as they may not mooue or turne them­selues to anye vaine or vnprofitable thinges. See nothing, touch nothing, know nothing, but that which may be profitable for thy soule and my glory.

VVherein soeuer a man doth fol­low his own appetite, seeking to satisfie [Page 31] it of a proper and selfe will, that is to say because hee will haue it so, or be­cause he hath a desire thereunto, hee must needes offend, for hee that desi­reth anie thing in this sorte, whether it be in meate, drinke, or any other thing to refresh nature, or els in seeking the delight of some spirituall consolation, it cannot be done without sin, because there is in it a perticuler care to please his owne fancie, which doth deuide & seperate him cleane from mee. Suffer nothing therfore to grow in thee, or to be nourished by thee, which carieth a­ny respect to satisfie thy owne liking, or to content thy owne will, although it may seeme to haue an apparaunce of goodnes: But thou must die to all loue of thy selfe, & all desire of following thy owne appetite, that a naked, a sim­ple and a pure charity without mixture of any other thing whatsoeuer, and a chaste intention to please me, may stir, mooue and procure thee to all the thoughtes thou thinkest, to all the wordes thou speakest, and to all the workes thou doest.

Howe a man ought to gouerne his tongue.

HAue as watchfull a care as thou mayest ouer thy tongue, and re­straine it from all libertie, suffer it to vtter nothing, but that which is neces­sarie, and well thought of before, and in as few words as it is possible for thee to comprehend the same, with all mo­destie and meekenes, and without any great noyse or loude speaking, flying, and cutting off by all the meanes thou art able, any thing that may either oc­casion or procure thee to speake.

Abstaine from all wordes, that bee any way hurtful, backbyting, grudging, vncleane or contentious, as frō a mor­tall sinne. Hauing a speciall regard to keepe thy selfe from all iesting, light­nesse, immoderate laughing, and idle wordes, and bee so carefull in this be­halfe, as neyther thou vsest them thy selfe, nor yet heare them of anie o­ther, as farre as it lyeth in thy power to auoide it.

[Page 33] And to the ende thou mayest bee free from that great vice of backbiting, resolue thou in thine owne hart, neuer to speake any thing of those which are absent, but such things as thou art sure doo tende to the edifiyng of mens soules. Euer haue some meane readie at hand to break off that talke (if there be any speech offered of those that be absent) by bringing aptly in a discourse of some other matter, before there be any word vttered either in the backe­biting or dispraising of them.

Take a most dilligent and heedfull care that thou speakest not thy selfe, nor sufferest any other, to speake of those which haue offended thee, or to ward whom thou findest in thy hart no perfect charitie, because men may ea­sily fall by that meane, into the vice of backbiting, while they speake to please thy humor by flattering of thee and reproching of those that thou dost mislike. Therefore neuer hearken to any accusation that is made of them which are thine enemies, or such as thou dost not loue.

[Page 34] Endeuour as much as thou canst to remaine alwaies in silence (I meane not onely the silence of thy tongue, but especially the silence of thy hart) so as there may not be heard within thy soule, any sound of vnlawful con­cupiscence, any noyse of vnquiet pas­sions, or anie troublesome stirre of wicked affections, and inordinate in­clinations: Neyther suffer thou vn­profitable discourses to arise in thine owne heart, with any vaine fancies, fond imaginations, or the deceitfull formes of such thinges as thou shalt haue there represented vnto thee: but euen as if thou haddest forgotten all other things whatsoeuer, & wert out of this world: in quietnes and silence speake to me onely, and harken vnto me wholy.

Neuer striue with any man in words, neither seeke stifly to maintaine thy owne minde or opinion, suffer euerie man to haue his saying, if thou canst not disswade him by gentle wordes, or do him good by some milde exhor­tation. And to conclude, resolue thy [Page 35] selfe neyther to dispute in words, ney­ther yet reason in thine own thoughts against him, but refer all thinges vnto me, and liue thou in all silence of thy tongue, & in all quietnes of thy hart.

Of the contemplatiue life which is who­ly withdrawne from the cares and affaires of this present world.

FLy the societie and [...]amiliarity of men, & when thou art not other­wise enforced by necessity for my ho­nour, or for thy neighbours saluation, be alwaies alone, for when thou art a­lone, then will I reueale my selfe vnto thee. Solitarines, silence, puritie and simplicitie of heart, doe prepare a place for me to dwell in. Keepe thy selfe therefore withdrawne from all cretures, in silence & quietnes of hart. Neither vouchsafing to consent, nor yet to harken to the vnlawful appetits of thy wil, the wandring cogitations of thy minde, or the vaine desires of thy hart. For thy nature (I know) is e­uer enclined to delite in consolatiō, & is alwaies occupied, somtime with out [Page 36] labour in thy body, & sometime with inward care in thy minde seeking con­solation in my creatures, wherby thou commest to be many and sundry waies distracted. Remember thou therefore to striue with all thy force against all thy sensuall and carnall inclinations, & keepe thy selfe alone, being withdraw­en from all creatures, and remayning euer both in outward solitarines of thy bodie, and inward contemplation of thy minde, as farre as discreation which must be thy guide, obedience to thy superiours, and charitie to thy neigh­bours will permit thee. Take care also as much as conueniently thou mayest, not to giue others by thy example, any occasion of often meetings, or com­mon familiaritie, because it doth verie much hinder the spirituall course of life, which is neuer so free from anye impediment, nor so apt to profit it self, as when it is seperated from all sorts of men, and all kinde of businesse: yet howsoeuer thou shalt chaunce to bee, either liuing amongst men, or seque­stred from the society of men, re­maine [Page 37] with me alwaies alone, recollec­ted within thy owne soule, and with­drawne not onely from all other crea­tures, but euen from thine owne selfe, that is from all liking to procure thine owne pleasure, from all care, to seeke thine owne commoditie, and from all desire to serue thine own appitite. Per­swade thy selfe that thou art left alone in this world, and haste nothing to [...]are for but me, and therefore thinke of no other matter, and deale with no other creature, but with me only.

Examine not other mens actions, & trouble not thy selfe with other mens affaires, if thou seest that which is good imbrace it, and let it edifie thee: if thou seest that which is euill, leaue it, but giue no iudgment of it.

Beware of obseruing, marking, ex­amining, or iudging of such mens spee­ches, actions and manners, as cannot by their holie and good example edifie thee: Nay bee so farre from dooing this, as desire neuer to heare or vnder­stand them, but rather seeke by all meanes not to know them at all. And [Page 38] if thou shalt happen by any chance to heare them, roote them out of thy heart, and endeuour to forget them as soone as thou canst: especiallye if thou standest in danger by that means to offend in the breach of charitie, or to conceiue a wo [...]se opinion of those parties.

How we ought to iudge no man.

THinke ill of no man, & although hee seemeth to thee to bee wic­ked, yet beleeue that he hath bin suf­fered to fall by some secret and hid­den prouidence of mine, for the at­tayning of greater humilitie in him­selfe, & procuring of greater profit to his soule. And thou oughtest neyther to iudge, nor yet despise him, but la­ment rather thy owne ingratitude to­wards me, because my grace only doth vphold thee, as it were violentlye a­gainst thy will, & thinke that without it thou shouldest fall into greater, and more heynous sinnes than any other, therefore say vnto thy selfe: if this man had receaued so much grace as I [Page 39] haue done, he wold haue serued God a great deale more deuoutly, & beene more thankful vnto him, than I haue beene. Beleeue also, that as soone as I looke vpon him with the eyes of my mercie, he will presently repent and a­mend; or els, that he is alreadie refor­med and made more holie than those that despise him. VVherefore ascribe thy ill conceait of him, to thine own fault & rash iudgment, and reprehend thy selfe sharpely, because thou haste thought amis of thy neighbour, and done him wrong. Rancor, hatred, bit­ternes & enuie, doe many times hide themselues vnder the colour of zeale, which doe make men thinke, not only euery defect and light fault of theyr neighbour to be grieuous, but also to iudge their vertues to be vices, theyr sights beeing dimmed with the soggie mist of mallice and enuie.

Take speciall heede therefore that thou neyther reprehende nor accuse any man, nor yet either speak or heare of any mans faults whē thou art angry. Beware also that thou dost not at that [Page 40] time seeke to gall him, gainesay him, or grieue him with any worde or shew of thine, neyther yet by chiding to procure humilitie and shamefastnes in him: or to declare that thou hast taken him in a fault worthie reprehension, & meet to be spoken of, & cheefely ab­staine from dooing of this, as long as displeasure, bitternes, or any troubled and vnquiet passion dooth remaine in thy heart against him, and as long as thou dost desire to make others note him for his faults and offences, because thou haste neither zeale of charity, nor a sincere intention in thee at that time. For if thou haddest, thou wouldest ra­ther be sorrowfull, & lament with him for his sins, and seeke as much as thou couldest, to excuse and couer before others thy Brothers or Sisters offence, & if they had made a great fault, thou wouldest then rebuke them in secret not without greefe in thy owne soule, and wouldest pray earnestly vnto mee for them with a hart that did euen suf­fer with them for their offences, and were most louingly & humbly affec­ted [Page 41] towards them.

O my daughter be dilligent to know what thou wantest, and what is fit for my spouse, & as for other mens faults be deaffe to heare them, dumb to vt­ter them, and blind to see them. Tell mee (my daughter) how great regard would a bashfull Virgin haue of her behauiour, if she stood in a Kings pre­sence, and saw his eies continually fix­ed vppon her? After the same sorte thinke how that I am in all places pre­sent with thee, and that thou standest alwaies in my sight. Consider hovve great modestie there ought euer to be in thee, hovv great innocencie of life, and to bee short howe great reuerence thou oughtest to carrie towardes mee, which doe alwaies behold, and looke vvith my pearcing eyes into the depth of al thy acts, thoughts, passions, words, motions, intentions and euen the verie secrets of thy heart. Presume not therefore to doe any thing in my sight, vvhich thou darest not offer to doe in the sight of one of my seruants, that vvere a very deuout man, and so gene­rally [Page 42] accounted, and of all men great­ly esteemed; for thou oughtest euer to feare the dreadfull presence of my almighty power, and infinite Maiestie, & to haue it at all times, both laid be­fore thy eyes, and imprinted in thy hart, that by it thou mayest bee stirred vp to loue and reuerence me, and bee carefull in all thinges to please mee, since thou art continually in my sight.

Thou shouldest not haue the peace of thy soule, which thou dost in all places desire to depende vppon mens mouths, that is, to be quiet when no man doth gainesay thee, but to rest vpon me and a good conscience.

Moreouer, thou oughtest to mor­tefie that appetite in thy selfe, which doth prouoke thee with an earnest desire and delight to be beloued, and commended of men. Suffer men to bee men still, and apply thy selfe onely to loue mee, that thou mayest bee worthy to stande highly in my fa­uour.

Liue vprightly with thy neighbour▪ [Page 43] and loue him for my sake, neither care thou whether hee loue thee againe or not, but leaue it to me, and flie the fa­miliaritie, both of men and women, but especiallie of those that be not of thine owne sexe.

If thou haddest as great a care, or at the least, no lesse respect to please me then thou haste, not to displease men, thou shouldest obtaine by it, greater consolation in thy soule, then if all the world did seeke for thy fauour.

How wee ought to fight a­gainst vice.

BEE stout and circumspect to van­quish and purge thy soule of anie imperfection, although it be neuer so little, for the least sinne that offen­deth mee, ought not to seeme small in thy eyes, if thou doost perfectlye loue me.

Call to minde the looue that thou diddest carrie towardes mee heeretofore, which made thee to contemne and forsake for the looue [Page 44] of me, thy Parents, thy Brethren, thy Sisters, thy riches, thy honour, & what­soeuer els that seemeth delightfull in this present world, and to conclude; e­uen thy selfe, that is: thy flourishing youth, and pleasantest yeares; hovve commeth it then novv to passe, that thou art vanquished with a most light temptation, and a vile motion of con­cupiscence? Thou knowest best thy selfe, how vveake and negligent thou art for the most part, and hovve hardly thou art drawne to ouercome vice, to bevvare of those snares vvhich may indanger thy soule, to flye the oc­casions and prouocations of sinne, to renounce thy ovvn will, and to amend the imperfections of thy hart. Renew therefore thy constant and former de­termination, resoluing to persecute all vice in thy selfe, and not to suffer anie thing to remaine within thee, that is cō ­trarie to my vvill, for any vvorldly gaine vvhatsoeuer.

Neglect not to doe all those things vvhich please mee, and follovve that course of life vvhich I require at thy [Page 45] hands, and is fit for thy vocation, vvith all care and dilligence. Vse not to delay: neyther leaue those thinges vn­done, vvhich is thy dutie to performe, and my right to receaue, but do them vvith courage stoutlie, vvillingly, care­fullie, faaithfullie, and deuoutly.

VVhensoeuer thou findest in thy selfe, the motions of anger, concupi­scence, vvantonnes, pride, & such like motions of vices, bevvare that thou dost not suffer thē violentlie to breake out of thee, by anie vvord or shevve: but seek by bridling & resisting them, to suppresse and extinguish them. The best and presentest remedie against all kinde of vice, is to cast thy selfe vvhen thou art tempted, prostrate at my feet vvith all humilitie, to consider hovve thou vvert made of nothing, and art nothing but by my grace; to returne vnto me vvholy, to repose all thy cō ­fidence in mee, to call vppon mee by continuall praier, & perfectly to know that thou canst receaue no succour not remedy in this thy distresse, but from me only▪

[Page 46] Seeke to strengthen thine ovvn in­firmitie in this sort euery howre, and renewe thy good purpose, euer per­swading thy selfe, that the present in­stant wherein thou liuest, is the first time of thy beginning to doo well.

VVhen it shall seeme lothsome to thy nature, or goe against thy sensuall appetite, to take these labours, to enter into these combats and conflictes, and to doo many other things, which may seeme contrary and grieuous to thy minde in this exercise of vertue: euer the more that thine owne slothfull humour shall repine at them, the more earnestly endeuour thou to ouercome and mortefie these passions.

Bee not wearied with so holy a la­bour, neither cease thou to proceede in so good a course, lest it mooue mee also to stay from powring the influ­ence of my grace into thee. Be a­fraid lest that if thou yeelde thy selfe vanquished, or seemest tyred by rea­son of thy sloth: my grace shall for­sake thee, and that I will leaue thee to follow thy owne inuentions, and with a dangerous kind of securitie to satisfie [Page 47] thy owne desires; for it is a manifest argument, that I haue then for thy owne deserts, both iustly and clearely reiected thee; VVhen thou feelest no worm of conscience gnawing with­in thee, no remorse for thy sinnes, nor any feare of my dreadfull iudgement. Such as bee in this state, are in a most perilous case, for when they thinke peace neerest vnto them, then com­meth destruction sodaine liest vppon them.

VVherefore [...]ight thou manful­ly, and violently represse thine affe­ctions. VVish in this small conflict or affliction, how little so euer it bee, to yeeld mee some recompence, as farre as lyeth in thy power, for those paines and torments, which both liuing and dying, I endured for thy sake.

Be neuer wearied therefore, with fighting against many temptations, giue not place, waxe not faint, nei­ther suffer thou thy selfe to bee o­uercome with weakenesse in thy hart, nor desperation in thy minde, but persecute all vice with a continuall [Page 48] and mortal hatred, and as often as thou beginnest to faint, or to decline from thy former determination, so often rise againe, and make a new resolution.

One thing I must needes vvarne thee of, vvhich hurteth thy selfe, and offendeth me, vvhich is, that thou art become sometimes so fainte harted, vvith thy faults and ouersights, as they moue thee to vvauer, in follovving of the good course that thou hast begun, and almost induce thee to dispaire.

This is the cause that doth make thee sit solitarie, pyning & consuming for verie griefe, and not to returne vn­to me that thou mayest rise againe, but euen vvith a kinde of dispaire to ima­gine, that all thou haste done before is vtterly lost and forgotten. And thou shewest thy selfe by this kinde of dea­ling, to bee proude, because when thou diddest seeme to stand, thou did­dest trust too much in thy owne force and abillitie, & that maketh thee now to be so greatly troubled and perplex­ed in thy minde: because thy hope did faile thee, & it fell out otherwise then [Page 49] thou didst expect or looke for. My will is, that thou shouldest not vse the help of thy own force and endeuour, but vtterly to distrust both in them & thy selfe, and to trust in me only, for as long as thou thinkest otherwise, thou art like euerie houre to come to ruine, vntill thou learnest this lesson, that when thou reliest vppon thy selfe, thine owne strength is no greater help vnto thee to make thee stand vpright, then if thou wert vnderpropped with a broken reede. But dispaire not in me, reposing a most firme hope, & as­sured confidence in my mercie. And touching thy selfe, I would haue thee to dispaire after this sort: not to refuse thy owne counsaile, thy own industry, thy own trauaile, and other thinges of such like kinde which proceede from thy selfe, but I would haue thee con­tinually to vse them, and yet not to re­ly vpon them, confidently to trust or delight in them, neyther yet would I haue thee attribute any good thou re­ceauest to thy selfe, or to thine owne dilligence for both thy selfe, and all [Page 50] these abillities which thou haste, haue not power to make thee withstand the smallest sinne, except thou be assisted with my grace and mercie. Neither thinke thou that I will presently pow­er into thee, for one earnest praier, a fewe teares, or one onelie conflict a­gainst the temptation of sinne, all graces, all vertue, and all good gifts, or that I will for this, send thee anie suddaine or extraordinarie profitte in thy spirituall course of life, or that thou shalt immediatlie come to at­taine to all pietie and holines.

I require at thy handes daylie paines, vnfeyned humbling of thy selfe, and a continuall fidelitie to­wards me, in fighting against vice. I looke for, also a firme hope, and an assured trust in my mercie, and a con­stancie in thee, that will neyther bee ouercome with any assault, nor yet wearied with anye trauaile. And when thou shalt finde in thy selfe all these thinges which I haue named, let there not want a most profound humilitie, whereby thou mayest bee [Page 51] brought perfectlye to know thy selfe, and to confesse that as thou wert made of nothing by my mercie, so thou art nothing but by my grace, at­tributing nothing to thine owne la­bour and trauaile, and acknowledg­ing that thou haste deserued nothing, but ascrybing thy thirst after iustice, and all other good things which thou doest to me only.

Except thou knowest these thinges thou canst not but erre, and must of necessitie fall often, vntill thou come to learne what thou art of thy selfe, & what thou art by my grace. I forbid thee not, but exhort thee to labour as much as thou canst, and to striue for vertu as much as thou art able; & whē thou hast done all, trust not in any re­medy, nor in any industry of thy own, that is without mee, but hope of this, pray for this, & beleeue this certainly, that I wil neuer faile to assist thee in all thy diligent & vertuous labors, not in respect of thine owne deserts, but in respect of the loue and charitie which I beare thee. For seeing that I [Page 52] haue giuen thee, a will, a desire, & an inclination to fight, I will also graunt thee for thy labour in fight (if thou perseuerest to the ende) a Crowne of glorie, a triumph of victorie, & a most happie end of thy combat.

VVherefore, whether thou beest in war or at peace with thy selfe, what­soeuer thou doest determine, whatso­euer thou beginnest, or whatsoeuer thou dost enterprise, craue without ceasing my assistance by praier, and waite before the gates of my mercie. Thy praiers shall neuer returne from me voide, and fruitlesse, although thou thinke thou haste receaued nothing; for it is often more profitable for thee, to pray humbly and earnestly, then to receaue and obtaine benifites. It is of­ten more gainefull for thee to trust in me, & expect my leysure, then senci­bly to feele, or possesse my consolatiō. VVherefore be thou patient, & long suffering: & increase in all good exer­cises, & in the loue of all that is good, betweene falling and rising, euer ex­pect thou my grace & protection: nei­ther [Page 53] seeke to flie or to run awaye from the battaile, vntill all the fight be fully ended, & the time be come for thee to receiue a glorious reward for thy pain­full trauaile. And because thou mai­est bee the rather incouraged to pro­ceed in this labour, assure thy selfe that euen in this life, thy enemies shall bee daylie diminished, and their force that assault thee continually weaken [...]d, & thy selfe by my grace, and vse of sigh­ting, wonderfully strengthned, in so much as that which at the first thou couldest scarcely scrape out with a file of iron, thou shalt come in time to driue away with a blast of wind.

Moreouer, whensoeuer thou chan­cest to fall, take this for a general rule, though thou fallest neuer so often, & offendest neuer so greatlye, yet pre­sently without any delay come vnto me, lamenting thy fault and bewaile it vvith mee, lying prostrate at my feete, and rise againe with me, lea­ning thy selfe vppon me, that is, re­pose thy confidence in my power, re­soluing firmely to amend, and neuer [Page 54] to offende in it againe. I knowe mans weakenesse in generall, I knowe also thine in perticular, and how apt man is of his of his owne frailtie to fall, & howe it proceedeth from the mallice of the diuell for a man to bee vnwil­ling to stande, or vnwilling to rise a­gaine after hee is fallen. VVhich thing cannot onely bee by no meanes excused, but also receaueth without my mercie, a heauier damnation. I require nothing of thee but a good will, and nothing is in my eyes more precious then the same.

VVherefore if thou wantest force, abillitie, or time to doo good works, bee not dismaide, for thy good will doth fullie content mee.

Retaine euer within thy selfe a good will, for by it thou mayest satisfie for all thy defects, & repaire all thy faults, although thou beest able to doe no­thing besides. VVhen thou think­est mee fardest from thee, then am I nearest vnto thee.

Therfore (my Daughter) as soone as thou shalt finde that thou haste of­fended, [Page 55] condemne thy selfe, and presently running vnto mee, confesse thy selfe guiltie, and make complaint against thy selfe vnto mee. Thou canst not no sooner bee repentant; then I haue graunted thee my pardon, neyther canst thou sooner aske for­giuenesse, then I haue quite remitted and forgiuen all.

VVherefore then (O my Spouse) doost thou stay from returning vnto mee? Thy safety is not procured in flying from mee, but in flying vnto mee.

I whatsoeuer thou seest that thou haste most offended: where thou findest that thou haste oftnest fallen: to conclude, where thou perceauest that thou haste most declined from vertue: there cry oftnest vnto mee, there sigh vnto mee with more often grones, and desire with all feruen­cie at my hands, both pardon for thy sinnes, and the protection of my grace.

Bee not wearied with temptations, but alwaies resiste them as much [Page 56] as thou canst, neither yeeld thy selfe as vanquished by them, or as a Prisoner vnto them. As long as thou resistest, thou art neuer ouercome. For what­soeuer thou feelest, and art enforced to suffer (as long as thou sufferest it a­gainst thy will, and resisting it is I told thee before) I vvill neuer im­pute it to thee as a fault, because I re­quire not an account at thy hands of that thou feelest, but of that to which thou consentest. To feele motions of sin, is ingrafted as it were in thy flesh, but to consent vnto it, resteth in thy ovvne choyse. There maye bee a certaine kinde of violence offe­red, to the flesh and senses, but the will canne neuer be compelled.

There are two thinges in tempta­tion: one the matter whereunto thou art tempted, and that is a sinne, and imperfections, these thou must neuer consent vnto, neyther yet yeeld thy selfe in any sort vnto them, but resist them with all thy might. The o­ther is, that labour and distresse which thou doost endure in resi­sting [Page 57] them: and this thou must pati­ently abide and yeelde vnto, as long as it is my pleasure that thou shalt bee tempted. For thou oughtest not to resist mee, but to subiect thy selfe wholly vnto my will, and to resist those motions which thou art stir­red vnto by the meane of tempta­tion: that thou mayest continue still in my fauour, receiue my grace, and be partaker of my consolation.

But I knowe what thou wilt say, for I am not ignorant of those thinges which thou dost suffer, and wherewith thy hart is afflicted. I will tell thee them therfore, since thou art ashamed to tell them thy selfe, that by it thou mayst be the better assured to receiue remedy, and consolation for them at my handes. The temptation of thy flesh doth assault thee, not onely eue­ry day, but euery moment. To resist this continually is troublesome and grieuous, and to escape it without figh­ting, is impossible. To fight long and not to bee wounded, is in thy iudge­ment not onely hard, but miraculous [Page 58] He that is thy enemie, is very familiar with thee, thou carriest him about with thee in euery place, thou art not per­mitted to destroy him, but thou art enforced to nourish him. His weapons are many, his manner of fight diuers, and his assaults very violent, as the fie­rie heates, the feruent motions, the de­lightfull allurements, the terrible per­turbations, the cruell onsets, the sweet pleasures of all kinde of lust and con­cupiscence, & many such other which some men doo feele raging in their flesh like certaine furies of hell. Now the strong impressions and delectati­ons of them being in a manner violent and ioyned with these fancies, are al­most sufficient to vanquish all thy sen­ses.

Moreouer the instability, and in­constancie of some mens hart is so great, that euen in the very moment, wherein they prepare themselues to resist these temptations, they are pre­sently as it were fallen beside them­selues, and cleane forgetting that which they had determined, they be­gin [Page 59] to thinke of that which they did refuse to thinke of before. Now who amongst these dangers (sayest thou) can escape safe? who can flee away from sinne vnwounded? marry a good and an humble will, for to it there can no violence be offered. For whatsoe­uer thou thinkest, chastity is not pollu­ted with it, but with the consent of thy minde, that is, whatsoeuer thou feelest in thy flesh, shall not bee imputed to thee for sinne, if thy minde consent not thereunto: for whatsoeuer is sinne must bee voluntarie, and as long as it is not voluntary it is not sinne. There­fore with howe great temptations soe­uer thou art oppressed, nay though thy flesh doo seeme to bee ouerwhelmed with them, and thy senses as prisoners vnto them, yet whatsoeuer thou fee­lest delightfull to thy flesh, keepe thy minde free, (that is, thy reasonable will) and then nothing can hurt thee▪ Cry out with the detestation of thy soule against them, and with a voyce that doth abhorre them, fie, fie, I will not, I will not.

[Page 60] Turne vnto me with all the force thou art able, and repeate often this short sentence. O my God helpe mee; O mercifull Iesus I will not yeelde vnto them, helpe mee.

Moreouer, though most lothsome and horrible temptations doo creepe into thy minde, yet for all that bee not thou dismaide; as they creeped in, so let them creepe out, and by that gate wherein they did enter, let them de­part, and let not them onely out them­selues, but carry out with them any thing that is naught, and vnclean with­in thee, that they may leaue thy house swept and cleansed. And this thou maiest easily doo, if thou wilt enter into a deepe consideration to knowe thy selfe, and call vpon me onely with a firme confidence, and with a great humilitie, neither seeking to spare thy selfe, nor ceasing to persecute thine e­nemies. For it is a most present reme­die against all inclinations, to remem­ber as soone as euer thou shalt finde an euill inclination in thy minde, how thou art nothing, and hast nothing of [Page 61] thy selfe but by my grace onely, and how vnpossible it is for thee, with any abilitie of thine owne, to resist these motions, and therefore presently to flie vnto mee with all thy hart, and to seeke aide and protection from my wounds which I suffered for thy sake, and at the sight whereof, the auntient enemie of mankind doth yet quake & tremble. Beleeue me (my daughter) although thou be haunted as much as is possible for thee with carnall thoughts, sensuall motions, violent co­gitations & imaginations, and although thou feele in this behalfe as much as may bee deuised, yet as long as reason hath the vpper hand, and doth gaine­say them, and as long as thy reasonable and deliberate will doth not make choise of them, thou hast neither lost charitie nor my grace. This distresse which thou doost sustaine, and these streights, whereinto my hart is driuen by the meane of this conflict, may be a plaine argument vnto thee, that thou haste not consented vnto them, and so consequently a great comfort to [Page 62] thy minde. For if thou had dest con­sented vnto them, that is, if thou had­dest willingly felt those thinges which thou diddest feele, if thou haddest willingly retained, those cogitations which did enter into thy minde, thou shouldest not then haue felt this di­stresse, this combat, and sharpe con­flict, but rather all peace and tranquil­litie in thy soule. Receiue a similitude (O my Daughter) at my handes for thy comfort: If any man in fight hand to hande bee ouercome, vanquished, bound, yea and beaten, and although he be so straightly holden, as hee hath not abillitie to vse his owne limmes: yet if he yeeld not himselfe as a priso­ner, and vanquished, but resisteth with as much force as hee is able, and con­senteth not to this his captiuitie, he can neuer be said to be conquered or ouer­come. In like manner thou shalt neuer be iudged of me to be ouercom, whe­ther thou bee tempted of the flesh or the diuell, except thou consent with thy minde, and ceasest to resist them. Thou must feele many thinges, which [Page 63] thou oughtest not to consent vnto, that is, which thou oughtest not to feele with thy good will, and with a certaine delight.

But thou wilt say, it is very paineful [...]o be in continuall fight, it is paineful to [...]enounce those things which thou co­ [...]etest, it is painefull not to thinke of [...]hose things wherein thou delightest, [...] is painefull to persecute those things [...]hich thou louest. O my Daughter, [...]hou dost consist of two parts, that is, [...]f the flesh, and of the spirit, and there­ [...]re thy desires bee diuers: and those [...]ings which delight the flesh are pain­ [...]ull to the spirit. If it seeme painefull [...] the flesh to offer violence to it selfe, it cannot hate it selfe; let the spirite [...]igne, let the spirite haue the royall [...]ueraignetie and imperiall authoritie thee, and shee will not thinke it a­ [...] paine to bring her enemie, that is, [...]e flesh vnder her yoake and subie­ [...]ion.

That which seemeth at the first [...]auy, and almost intollerable, by [...]ntinuall vse of fighting commeth to [Page 64] be light, and may well bee endured: For the oftner that thou resistest thy enemie, thou art the stronger, and he the weaker.

For doost thou not knowe that the kingdome of heauen suffereth vio­lence, and that the violent beare it a­waie? Fight therefore manfullie the oftner, and the more stoutlie that thou dost doe it, the more easie shalt thou euer finde it. Remember also, that as the temptation shal end, so the fight shall not alwaies continue, and that an eternall crowne of glorie which is due to the conquerour doth remaine for thee. The sharper thy fight is, the more glorious thy crowne of victorie shall be. And therefore if thou o­uercommest beeing tempted, thou shalt haue a double reward, whereas if thou haddest neuer been tempted, thou shouldest haue receaued but a single.

Moreouer the sharplier that thou are assaulted with the temptation of sinne, the c [...]e [...]rer shalt thou be purged from thy s [...]nes, if thou dost not con­sent [Page 65] vnto it. And although in this con­flict, especially when a heauy tempta­tion doth furiously rage in thy flesh, there are many veniall sinnes wont to bee committed, (which are giuen as light woundes to those that fight) yet notwithstanding, that paine which is endured by continuing still in fight, & by resisting of mortall sinnes, doth on the contrary part take away all that paine which the veniall sinnes do de­serue. Beside, that charitie wherewith thou fighting for my sake dost auoide mortall wounds, and takest great paine in striuing for vertue, doth not onely heale thy lesser wounds, but also doth turne them to thy greater glorie and reward, if thou shalt perfectlye ouer­come these temptations as the skars of a Souldiers wounds, which hee recea­ued by fighting manfullie in a moste fierce battaile, are shewed, after the victorie to his great honor, & the shar­per the battaile was, the greater is his glory. Feare not therfore my daughter if thou art to fight long, or if thy temp­tation doe continue forcible, if thou [Page 66] canst not preuaile so farre ouer thy sensuality, as to make it in al things subiect to thy reason, yet alwaies re­sist it, neuer giue it place, neuer graunt it peace nor quietnesse. Thy battaile against it, the conflict which thou diddest endure in resisting of it, I will esteeme as a victorie and con­quest ouer it: For it is not onlie good to ouercome euill, but with all thy might to resist euill, yea it is some­time more honourable and profitable for thee, by continuing in fight to sustaine longer the assaults of thine e­nemie, and the labour of the con­flict, then quickly to haue vanquished him, espeacially when it is done by my prouidence (which disposeth of all, euer for the best towardes those that loue mee) and not by thy owne slouth or negligence: For I who am a most vpright and wise iudge, do marke the trauaile and force of euery one of my Souldiers, and do more esteeme in them, their will, then their abillitie: because to be able to conquere, proceedeth of my gift, [Page 67] but to be willing to conquere resisteth in their owne choyse, and yet not that neyther without my grace.

Wherefore although my grace must of necessitie assist you in both, yet it resisteth more in your owne choyse to bee willing to doe well, then to be able to doe well, which I consi­dering (O my Daughter) doo better allow in thee a will to doe much, then abillitie to performe much. It is al­so both meet and agreeth with iustice, that the longer thou fightest, and the more paine thou takest, thou shoul­dest receaue the larger reward, and not onlie a reward in the life to come, but euen here grace for grace, that is, for euerie good worke which you doe by my grace, you shall receaue a re­warde, and some benefit or other by my gracious fauour in this present world.

Howe wee must flie the occasion of temptation.

TAke a special care, that thou be­est not an occasiō of thyne own [Page 68] tation, or destruction, in giuing thyne enemie by thine owne fault, opportu­nitie to assault thee, and abilitie to o­uerthrow thee. For auoyding where­of, flye prouocations of temptation, restraine thy senses from wandering, shun the familiaritie & priuate friend­ship both of men and women, where­by sometime the diuell doth finde an oportunitie to tempt thee, vnder the colour of deuotion or spirituall loue. For these thinges for the most part, do leaue behinde them grieuous tempta­tions, of doubtfull suspitions, perturba­tions, distractions, or els some scandals of violent loue and affection. If thy enemie which sought to take thy life stood at thy doore, wouldest thou suf­fer him to come in? How quickly and carefully wouldest thou shut and barre the gates against him? Now these carnall and vicious imagina­tions, cogitations, and affections, doe seeke by all meanes to enter into thy heart, and to destroy the life of thy soule, writ thou then let him come in? Doe not suffer them to enter: driue [Page 69] not me away, but keepe them out of thy house by force, and with a horrible detestation of them. Turne thy hart vnto mee, and if thou feele any thing in thy flesh, turne thy hart away from it. Punish thy fleshe when it waxeth proude, or wanton, with abstinence: & temperance both in meate and drinke. Cut off all accesse of persons, all haun­ting of places, and all taking of any oc­casions whereby thou perceauest thy selfe to be tempted. And beware a­boue all thinges, that thou yeelde not thine own members so farre to iniqui­tie, as that the diuell doe make them instruments of iniquitie, and so by thy negligence take oportunitie to wound thee with thine owne weapons. And therfore correct the pride of thy flesh with such straight discipline, and bridle it with so great modestie, and bashful­nes, that euen for verie feruent loue of shame fastnes, and chastitie, thou mayest scarce presume to see or touch any naked part of thy handes or feet. And for al vncleane cogitations, which shall chaunce to bee still import [...] ­nate [Page 70] vppon thee, driue them out as it were one nayle with an other, by some Godly meditation, and imprin­ting in thy minde some holy impressi­on of my life and passion. For to thinke of my woundes, and passion, dooth euer yeelde without all doubt, a continuall and wonderfull encrease of vertue. For if I haue infused in­to hearbes, stones, and rootes, rare ver­tues to expell many diseases of the bo­dy, how vnspeakable, and how effec­tual vertu haue I giuen to my wounds and passion (as thou thinkest) for ex­pelling of spirituall diseases, and both curing and Sanctif [...]ing of the soule.

When spirituall temptations are to be conquered.

IF filthie and vncleane thoughts as it often happeneth doo at sometime enter into thy minde against mee and my Saints, or els that thou be tempted with blasphemie, & rebelli­ous cogitations, let it neuer henceforth [Page 71] trouble thee, nor yet make thee faint haterd, neyther bee thou perplexed in thy minde with thinking howe to make thy confession of anye such matter, as long as thou dost not with aduised and deliberate consent yeelde vnto them. For they carrie with them more griefe than delight, and thou rather sufferest, than doost those thinges beeing for that time al­together in passiō & nothing in action. Wherefore hee that carrieth a pure minde need not eyther to feare them or confesse them, for although a God­lie minde may seeme to bee by this meane a little polluted, yet is it not de­filed by hir own fault and negligence. And therefore such thinges as these which procure great heauines to a de­uout heart, and my Spouse (because shee is enforced to feele within hir selfe, and to bee turmoyled with such filthie and abhominable [...]maginati­ons and cogitations against mee, as those which bee the greatest sinners doo abhorre) are rather an affliction and purgation vnto her, then anye [Page 72] defiling or pollution of her. For the Diuell whilest hee seeth thee with­drawne from all other thinges whatso­euer, and onely to thirst after me, doth endeuour to trouble this quiet peace of thine, and to hinder and to keepe thee from beeing vnited vnto mee, by these fancies which seeme both odi­ous and horrible. VVherefore the more holye that the day is, the more earnestly thou dost bend thy selfe to the exercise of diuine actions, the more thou doost seeke to lift vp thy hart, and the more vehementlye that thou dost striue t [...]ite thy self who­ly vnto me, the more violently, wic­kedly & importunately do these ima­ginations assault thee, beeing stirred vp eyther by the Diuell, or by some ti­merous fearefulnes of thy owne, be­cause as soone as thy soule doth begin to abhorre and feare a thing, she doth presentlye feele and finde the same which she feareth, or for which shee is afraid. For feare and faint harted­nesse doth quickliest thrust into a mans minde that imagination which is fea­red. [Page 73] And the Diuell also doth raise these perturbations and motions with­in thy soule, that whilest thou art bu­sied in seeking to resist them, thou mayest bee with-holden from feeling the sweet taste of my charitie, or els, being too much dismayed with them, thou mayest bee afraid, and not pre­sume to approch vnto me.

The Diuell doth this, because hee delighteth to entangle thy minde with scruples, and perturbations, and by them to hinder the Saboth of thy quiet rest. But do not regard them, doo not feare them, doo not an­swere them, doo not resist them, do not obserue them, but goe forwarde in thy Godly deuotion, and Holy ex­ercise, as though thou felt no­thing, and as though thy mind were troubled with nothing, and passe ouer all these filthie cogitations, as the bar­king of a Curre, or the hissing of a Goose, to which a man will disdaine to make an answere, and will not stay either to contend or striue with them, but onelie passe by them, and laugh [Page 74] at them. In dooing thus, thou shalt easily auoide & quickly forget them. But if thou seeke to resist them, to di­spute with them, to feare them, to re­gard them, to harken vnto them, and to remooue them, thou shalt still the more deepely imprint them in thy minde, and the more dangerously in­tangle thy selfe with great perturba­tion. For these temptations are not vanquished by fighting with them, but by contemning of them.

Take heede also that no temptati­on on ouercome thee by importunity, & by making thee weary to resist it, for this is an vsuall practise of the Diuell to vexe some with so long and trou­blesome a temptation that hee ouer­commeth those by tyring them with that wicked deuise of his, whome hee could neither deceiue by subtlety, nor intise by pleasure. Wherefore thou hast neede to bee long suffering, con­stant, and patient, & as thou oughtest to detest those wicked cogitations, which are throwne into thy minde by the craft of the Diuell against my ho­nour, [Page 75] and are brought in of purpose to seduce thee; so thou mayest in no sorte either mislike or seeke to shun that affliction which I send vnto thee nor those heauy & troublesome bur­thens which thou feelest by my will and prouidence laide vppon thee, nor yet that paine which thou takest in a­ny conflict, when thou striuest to re­sist vice and iniquitie, but thou ough­test for my sake to beare them pati­ently, and without any grudging.

Of this also I am to warne thee, that if thou be tempted with any car­nall vices, as gluttony and concupis­cence, thou mayest more easily van­quish the by flying them, then by fighting with them; but on the con­trary part, all spirituall vices are euer ouercome, not by slightly passing ouer them, but by staying with good consi­deration vpon them, and dooing the contrary of that to which they allure thee. For the temptation of pride is neither any whitte diminished nor yet vanquished, by flying all occa­sions that may any way mooue thee to [Page 76] humble thy selfe, that is, by flying all the meanes that may procure humility in thee, in hope by that course to abate the force, and auoide the motions of that temptation. But if thou wilt ouercome it, stay aduisedly vpon it, & enforce thy selfe to doo those thinges that may humble thee. Thou shalt after the same sort ouercome enuy, if presently and violently, as it were in spight of her, thou dost those thinges from which shee dissuadeth thee; that is, if thou speakest to thy brother, if thou seekest to do him seruice, if thou dooest humble thy selfe vnto him. In like manner also, thou shalt neuer con­quer slothfulnes by flying all trauaile, or by neglecting the diuine honouring and seruing of mee, and by seeking to withdraw thy selfe, that thou mightest not be commanded to labour and take paines, but by enforcing thy selfe with all thy might, and by applying wholly of thy minde to practise and performe deuout and vertuous exercises.

How we ought to take head of Enuie.

BEware of enuie as much as possi­bly thou canst, that by it thou bee not brought to mislike with any man, to speake in derogation of him, to preferre thy selfe before him, to mo­lest and vexe him, and to bee also thy selfe vexed, (if hee be preferred be­fore thee) with his vertue, with his honour, with his commendation, or with his spirituall profite. To ouer­come his temptation, be more curte­ous and lowlie vnto him (my daugh­ter) then to another, speake nothing of him thy selfe, nor heare him spo­ken of in his absence, neither yet let any thing proceed from thee in word deede, or shew, that may seeme to sa­uour of enuie, or to spring from that venemous roote.

How we must flie singularitie.

SHewe not in thy conuersation with others, any sad or vnquiete counte­nance, [Page 78] but a curteous kinde of behaui­our, lest thy conuersation seeme troublesome or vnpleasaunt vnto them.

Beware of being singuler, and vsing any particular fashion by thy selfe, dif­ferent from the rest in any vnnecessa­rie ceremonie, acte, or shewe of de­uotion, when thou art in other mens companie, & as for those points which are profitable for thy soule, which thy calling and christian profession requi­reth at thy hands, and which are ne­cessarie, either for obtaining of vertue or auoiding of sinnes. Feare not to be singuler in them, conforme not thy selfe in those to other mens fan­cies, if they be carelesse of their owne saluation: but rather resolue for the benefit of thine owne soule, the ob­taining of vertue, and the fulfilling of my good pleasure, constantly, hum­bly, and patiently, to beare all their derisions, and persecutions for the same.

Of the honour, reuerence, and worship which we ought to exhibite vnto the Mother of God.

SAlute my Mother often and zea­lously, with thy feruent praiers, and honour her euer with all reuerence, & a principall deuotion by seeking dilli­gentlie to imitate both her life and her vertue. For I gaue her to this world as a perfect example of sancte­tie, innocencie, and puretie, as a singu­ler Patronesse, and most safe refuge for all my seruaunts, and as a Sanctua­rie of so great freedome to all those which are in miserie and tribulation; as no man might haue cause to mislike it, no man might feare to take it, nor yet be in doubt to approch vnto it, and to that ende I made her so meeke, so vertuous, so mercifull, so gentle, and so gracious as shee might despise no man, denie her aid to no man, but euer lay open her bosom of pitty before all men, & not to suffer any man to depart from her sad, nor without consolation.

[Page 80] I made her also gratious, amiable, worthy to bee beloued, and after a wonderfull sort most sweete and de­lightfull, to those which otherwise were desperate and obstinate sinners, that shee might bee a meete baite for my hooke to catch all soules, but spe­cially such as could by no other mean bee taken, For those heynous sinners which breake out of all other nets, & for whom I cannot find an apt course by any other waie to draw them vnto me: I vse to catch by her meane, that is, by the veneration of her, & theyr deuotion towards her, whom I make [...] taste most sweet in their harts, and excite those which are hard harted toward me, to performe good works vnto her, that is, acts of veneration, deuotion, confidence, and inuocati­on, and by this meane, I make them vessels fitter and worthier to receiue my grace, and greater illumination from me, vntill they attaine to a more reformed, & for the most part, a most holy course of life. Recommende thy selfe daylie therefore vnto her [Page 81] protection, that by her help thou maist rece [...]ue greater grace and fauour at my hands. For I committed vnto her cu­stodie the whole treasure of my grace and mercie, to be distributed and be­stowed, when I recommended vnto her all my sonnes in the person of Iohn as her sonnes, but specially sin­ners, for whome I did at that present suffer. This she knoweth verie well, and therefore is so carefull and dilli­gent to discharge the office shee recei­ued from mee, as shee suffereth none of those (as farre as lieth in her power) which were committed vnto her, and principallie such as call vppon her to perish, but preferreth them vnto mee both with her earnest praiers, and by all the other meanes shee is able, that they may be reconciled vnto me, and [...]erciued again into my fauor? dost thou think (then my daughter) that I could haue chosen any more fitte, and more meete for this busines? Could I haue founde any that had beene so apt and able euery way to haue discharged this office? Dost thou thinke that such as [Page 82] be sorrowfull, desolate, and ouerwhel­med with their sinnes, will desire any other mediatour for them vnto mee, which may sue more faithfully in their behalfe, and bee more graciouslie en­clined to receiue them, and more rea­dy to bring them vnto me, then this woman, this most humble, most pitti­full, most meeke, and most louing virgin, abounding with all sweetnes & mercie, beeing most mighty of her selfe to relieue sinners, and most ac­ceptable vnto mee because shee is my mother, yea, euen his mother whose wrath is to bee pacified and appeased towards them?

Alasse, howe farre doo they erre? how great a burthen of wilfull obsti­nacie, and perdition doo they heape vppon their owne backes, which doo mutter and murmure against this holie Virgin, which hath the custodie and bestowing of my graces, and will not acknowledge her for an aduocate vn­to me as I am to my father? Dost thou thinke that they can by any meanes throw themselues more headlong into [Page 83] the bottomlesse pitte of hell, then by making her their enemie (for whose sake I haue so often spared the world, and so often forborne to powre my wrath vppon men) that when there is none to be a mediator for them, or to withholde my hande which is readie bent to punish them, I may without any let or impediment strike them as often and as much as I will? But what greater paine or punishment can I lay vppon these men, then not to chasten them temporally here as children, but to deliuer them ouer as my enemies into a reprobate sence, that they be­ing blinde may not see into what dan­ger they runne, vntill they finde them selues drowned in perpetuall darke­nes, and ouerwhelmed with eternall destruction.

I doo vse these exhortations vnto thee, as vnto my spouse of meere loue and good will, that being instructed by my spirit, thou maist not decline either in this or in any other matter whatsoe­uer, be it neuer so small, from the de­crees and resolution of doctrine, [Page 84] which my holie Catholique Church hath determined and resolued vpon, nor yet suffer thy selfe to be deceiued by that wicked and malignant spirit of theirs, which pretende in show to bee followers of the Gospell, and are in truth nothing lesse.

Of sensible deuotion.

IF thou findest not sensible deuo­tion, be not therefore grieued nor deiected in thy soule, but doo with a stoute and constant minde (although thou feelest it drie and barren) what­soeuer thou knowest to be for my ho­nour, and as much as thou art able to performe in that behalfe. There are manye which shedding teares doe seeme to haue some spirituall deuoti­on, and sweeet taste in their soule, and yet their life is neuer a whitte the holier, nor themselues at that time free from mortall sinne, but it procee­deth from a certaine tendernesse of their hart, as is often seene in women, and also in men, that be by nature pas­sionate [Page 85] and full of compassion. Haue no confidence therefore in that deuo­tion which doth not better & amende thy life▪ Thou shalt see some weepe often, and be sorrowfull for the death of a valiant Captaine, whose worthie and famous actes, they haue onely read, though hee were a Gentile or a Pagan. They will weepe also some­time if they reade a heau [...]e parting, or a pittifull death of two constant lo­uers. What wonder is it then if they weepe at my most holie and deuoute seruice, by seeing manie patheticall things done in the worshipping of me, or by taking compassiō of those things which I did suffer for them, or by re­ioycing at that honour which is done vnto me, and yet these teares proceed from a naturall passion of their hart, without any vertuous intentiō or pro­fitable frute to their soule, as long as they doo not my will, and fulfill my commandement? If therefore thou findest my hart hardened and barren, without such deuotion, endeuor thou to haue another kinde of deuotion, [Page 86] which is a true, perfect, and readie will, with a determined resolution to doo all those thinges which may honour and please mee.

Moreouer, for the want of the o­ther, that is, sensible deuotion, seeke out the true cause and reason, lest per­haps thou hast lost that sweete taste in thy soule, by some dissolute motion, by lightnes, by inordinate loue, or vn­measurable ioy, or lest thou hast been too much busied with earthly cogitati­ons, or els, lest thou hast polluted thy soule with the spottes of pride, or hast sought to please thine owne fancie, or for some such other vice and offence. In which case thou oughtest to be ra­ther grieued for the cause of this bar­rennesse of thy soule, that is, thou oughtest to bee more sorrie for the fault which thou hast committed, then for the deuotion which thou hast lost.

Endeuour to cleaue vnto me, with a good and pure will, seuered from earthly affections, and with a naked and simple vnderstanding, farre from [Page 87] conceauing of needles or vnprofitable matters, and omitte to doo no good thing, that either thou wert accusto­med to vse before, or that may tende to my honour, but remaine patient with renouncing of thine owne appe­tite, and expect my pleasure, with re­signing of thy selfe whollie vnto the same.

And although somewhat at some­time doo sodainely breake out of thy sensuall disposition and outward man, or remaine boyling in thy minde, which is not conuenient for thy profes­sion, or els, if there arise any perturba­tions in thee, if thou sufferest any di­stresse, if thou bee oppressed with th [...] temptations of heauinesse in thy soule, resisting or murmuring, take speciall care, that at the least thy inwarde and reasonable man, beeing subiect vnto mee, continue setled in all tranquilli­tie, in louing of my commandements, and in labouring to fulfill them.

How wee must prepare our selues when wee come to receiue the blessed Sacrament.

TO speake somewhat by the way of that preparation, which thou oughtest to make, when thou com­mest to receiue the blessed Sacrament of my precious bodie, I am first to ad­uertise thee, that thou shouldest not bee discouraged, although thou dost not sensiblie feele deuotion in thee, yea, although thou findest thy selfe troubled with horrible tentations, and assaulted with some tedious imaginati­ons, which doo inuade thy minde. For this sensible deuotion of thy soule is not so necessarie, but rather that reaso­nable deuotion of thy will, whereby thou dost beleeue well of my Sacra­ment, and whereby (notwithstanding these blasphemous thoughts which do assaile, and almost ouerwhelme thee) thou maiest be mooued to doo all ho­nour and reuerence to my Sacrament, although it bee against thine appetite, [Page 89] contrarie to thy liking, and repugnant to the sence or opinion of thine owne hart: and lastly, that thou mayest by this inforcing of thy selfe, against thy carnall desire, finde thy will ready & prepared with al obedience to honor mee, to giue me thankes, to resigne thy selfe wholy vnto mee, and to sub­iect thy minde so farre to my liking, as that it may be best contented with that which agreeth most with my ple­sure.

If thou haste this deuotion (my Daughter) which thy reasonable will may easily commaund and procure in thee, that is, if thou bee sorrie that thou haste euer offended me, and de­termined neuer to offend me againe, but to endeuour as much as possiblye thou canst in all thinges to obey my will, thou mayest come boldly vnto this Sacrament, thou mayest enter se­curely into my presence, for neyther reasonable; nor sencible deuotion, neither vertue, nor yet my grace is ob­tained by flying from mee, but by ap­proching nere vnto me. Therfore the [Page 90] more sadder, and the more desolate that thou findest thy self (yea, althogh it be at that time, when thou art going to confession, or to receiue my blessed body, the more earnestly & vehemēt­ly excite and enforce thy selfe to pro­ceede in thy good purpose, that thou maiest be made strōger in grace, more constant in goodnes, & more feruent in loue towards me. Prouide alwaies that thou carriest with thee a pure in­tention, & a good wil, as I said before. Neither let it trouble thee, if euen in comming to receaue this blessed Sa­crament, there doth enter some hor­ror, & terror into thy soule, or if thou bee scarce able presently to take and swallow the blessed host, or if thou finde some gawlish kinde of bitternes in thy taste, for these are not certaine signes, that thou camst vnworthyly to it, but thou haste rather cause to mi­strust that feare, fainthartednes, and continual custome of trembling, haue procured this imagination in thee, which is strongest of all in women, & maketh thee to thinke that thou fee­lest [Page 91] those thinges indeede, which ei­ther thou dreadest to feele hereafter, or thou dost imagine that thou feelest at that present. But if thou couldest cleane remoue this fainthartednes, & fearefull imaginations of thine, thou shouldest with it also cleane expell this difficultie & distresse which thou findest in thy minde. For albeit I could deliuer thee from al these per­turbations, yet doe I permitte, some such distresse as these, to assault thee, and other of my seruauntes, because I knowe it is the best meane either to keepe all of you humble, or by hum­bling of you, to deliuer you from the sinne of pride, which is in wo­men most vsuall. Bee therefore stout, and carrie a resolute minde, that sha­king off all womanish feare, or faint­hattednesse, and purging it from those filthie cogitations which doo enter into thee by contemning of them and their perswasions, thou mayest with a quiet minde, and a pure conscience, wholye de­dicated to my seruice, desire me, seeke [Page 92] mee, and receaue mee in the blessed Sacrament, which am and will alwaies remaine vnto thee (if the fault be not in thy felfe) a most gratious louer, a most gentle protector, a most merci­full redeemer, a most louing preser­uer, and a most faithfull Sauiour. But because thou maiest be enflamed with a greater reuerence, loue, and desire, toward this blessed Sacrament: I assure thee that without all doubt, my body is there sacramentally, deliuered vnto thee, to be receaued vnder the forme of bread. Wherefore seeing it is the same body, which I now carrie glorifi­ed in heauen, seeing it is no other, nor anie like vnto it, but euen the verie same, and seeing I carrie not a bodie which is dead nor without blood, it followeth of necessitie that together in the same body, there must bee also contained my soul, my blood, my gra­ces, and my vertues: to all which since the world is vnited, that is one person in Trinity, from the two other persons cannot be deuided, but are insepera­bly vnited, it must also followe, that [Page 93] the whole Trinity is present in this Sa­crament, as truly & as verily as they are in heauen, though in an other kinde, that is, vnder a sacramentall forme. The same opinion thou must in like sort haue of the Challice, the new Testament in my blood, consi­der therefore now with thy selfe, with how great willingnes and desire, thou oughtest to come vnto this Sacramēt, seeing that thou haste in it true saluati­on, and that thou hast me really, and perfectly there, which am the author of all thy happinesse. And because I would not haue thee drawne from it, with too much timerousnes of thy conscience, or with too great a feare of the reuerence and Maiestie thereof; I haue commaunded thee to come vn­to it, and to receiue it for a comme­moration of mee, assuring thee, that my delight is to be with the Children of men, and that I doe much reioyce when I may doe anie of you good, & to knocke at the gate of your hartes, that beeing entred in [...], I may sup with you, and both feede and refresh your [Page 94] hungrie spirite within my selfe. And to what other ende doo I all these thinges, but onely to procure you to haue a hope and confidence in mee, with a loue and desire to come vnto me, and not to withdraw your selues from so profitable and necessary a Sa­crament, or to depriue your soules of that infinite and inestimable fruite, which you shall receaue thereby, for feare of beeing made vnwoorthie by these temptations which you feele a­gainst your will, and therefore are not by them polluted with any sin.

Of discreation.

AS humillitie must bee the guide of [...]all thy exercises, so let discretion rule and moderate them, least they hurt thee, or make thee vnable to do thy dutie, or least the greater benefits and better exercises of thy soule bee hindred by the outwarde exercises of thy body, which are not so good, nor so profitable: and to conclude, least by exercising of any vertuous acte, [Page 95] thou dost somewhat offend in breach of charitie.

Haue consideration also of the in­firmitie of thy bodie, and take care that thou consume not thy strength, if thou be weake, and gouerne all thy intents, studdies and exercises by the direction of such as feare me, or are thy superiors, leauing or lessning thē, encreasing or moderating them ac­cording to their will and counsell.

Wherefore, if thy superior which hath the charge of thy soule, as bee­ing my deputie, and discharging of that office in my steede toward thee, forbidde thee to fast, or any other thing that is not in it selfe sinne, obey him, beleeuing that hee knowing thy abillitie euerie waie, doth aduise and commaund thee, to that which may bee fittest and most necessary for thy saluation.

And therefore (my Daughter) if thou be bidden to eate eight times in a day, thou shalt not in obeying it, of­fende mee: Neuerthelesse, retaine still a will to fast, when thou haste [Page 96] libertie to vse thine owne discreation, But if for obedience sake, thou eate, thou shalt by eating receaue of mee a double reward whereas otherwise by fasting, thou shouldest haue had but [...]e he a single. For thy good will to fast, and the fruit of thy good will is not lost, if thou eatest to shew onlie thy obedience, but beeing done for obedience sake, it is together with o­bedience crowned, and rewarded in thee. In like sorte it is in all other thinges, which thou desirest of thine owne will to doe, and art enforced to omitte onelie to shew thy obedi­ence.

Seeke daylie, desire earnestlie, stu­ [...]e continuallie to set foorth and ad­uance my glorie, as much as thou art able, and wheresoeuer thou canst, & to fulfill my will, both in thy selfe and in all other. Neglect to do no good worke that thou hast▪ abillitie to per­forme, but goe forward in goodnes e­ [...]rie day, and striue alwaie to encrese in vertue, but neyther glorie norre­ [...]oyce in thy selfe for all the trauaile, [Page 97] studie, and exercise which thou vsest in dooing of good workes, neither bee thou comforted with it, as thogh thou haddest any thing, wert any thing, or able to doo any thing of thy selfe, but fixe thine eyes euer vppon thine owne basenes, and imbecillitie, remembring that thou art meerely nothing, but of my grace, and therefore ascribe all the good thou dost to me onely.

There bee some which are not contented with that correction of their flesh which I doo lay vpon them, but doo torment their bodies with vn­discrete abstinence, and immoderate afflictions, and make themselues by that meane not onely vnapt, and vna­ble to obay me, to follow my steps, & to endure the conflicts of this spirituall battaile: but also being tyred and con­sumed in their naturall strength by this vndiscrete dealing, are enforced to leaue those exercises which they were wont to vse before; and to take more care of their flesh, then is requi­site or conuenient, for repairing of that which was decayed by their owne fol­lye. [Page 98] Wherefore moderate thou thy exercises and labours according to the proportion of thy force and abillitie, least thou doost surcharge and ouer­throw thy selfe, and faile not by good meanes to nourish thy body, it is my will, that thou shouldest comfort na­ture, and repaire from time to time, thine infirmitie, not with an extraor­dinarie care or delight, but for the re­freshing of nature, as I saide before. And for the better inhabting of thy body to doo mee seruice, to yeeld thy selfe a fit instrument of my grace, to fulfill my will, to follow my comman­dement, & to doe those works which are most acceptable in my sight, bee­ing alwaies as readie if it be my plea­sure, to suffer pouertie, as to enioye riches, and as willing to bee sicke as to be whole. But when thou shalt not bee compelled by discreation to nou­rish thy bodie for infirmitie of nature, take heed least by impatiency or want of deuotion, or of an insatiable desire to please thine owne appetite, thou seekest euasions to escape, and deliuer [Page 99] thy selfe from those aduersities or troubles which I send thee. But re­member to receaue such crosses, as are of my sending gladly, sustaine them patiently, complaine of them to no bodie, beare them with long suffering, and stay with all meekenes expecting of my pleasure. Suffer mee to deal with thee, as I thinke fitte, that by that tribulation that falleth vpon thee, my grace may worke some good effect in thee. This is much better and more profitable for thee, then that which of thine own head thou layest vpon thy selfe. For I would haue thee to bee fullie perswaded (my Daughter) that I neuer permit thee to suffer any tri­bulation, but that it is for thy good, & for the purging and repayring of thy soule, which is weakened or impayred by sin, if thou wouldest beleeue mee, and referre thy selfe wholy vnto mee, by bearing it with silence, & waite my leysure by patient suffering thereof, for I wil come at the last, who am ne­uer absent from thee, but am alwaies readie in all places to assist thee.

[Page 100] Beware therefore that thou doost not dispise those afflictions which I do sende and lay vppon thee, for I will guide thee in them; relie vppon me, trusting in my prouidence, and loue towards thee, and not in thine owne will or abillitie. Bee content that I & other men doo afflict thee: in the meane time, doe not thou persecute thy flesh, but thy faults, and endure with patience whatsoeuer shall happen vnto thee.

How we ought in all thinges to con­forme our selues vnto Christ.

A Faithfull spouse ought to be so lo­uing to her husband, as she should desire with all her hart euer to be with him, neuer without him, and at no time from him, shee should wish to conforme her selfe in all thinges vnto her husbandes minde, and bee glad when shee were in any thing like vnto him. After the same manner thou must be haue thy selfe. Consider my life, my actions, & my vertues, where­by [Page 101] thou mayest learne what I loue, & what doth please mee in thee. Now if thou wilt bee a faithfull spouse, (O soule) thou oughtest to desire nothing so much as to please me, and to frame thy selfe in all things agreeable to my will. Wheresoeuer therefore that I goe, desire to accompanie me, whatso­euer I doo, studdy to imitate mee, whatsoeuer I suffer, be readie to suffer with me, and if by any occasion thou feelest tribulation, reioyce in it, be­cause by it, thou art made like vnto me. Consider and recount with thy selfe euerie one of my vertues, or at the least the principall, whereby thou mayest stirre vp a desire in thy minde to imitate and follow me. It shall be an easier labour for thee then, to cutte off, morte [...]ie, and rase out all those things, which are contrarie and vnlike to my course of life, that is, thy vices, thy wicked inclinations, and corrupt affections. And as I saide before, thou shalt attaine to such a habit of wel do­ing in time by a studious will, a watch­full care, and continuall trauaile, that [Page 102] thou mayest come hereafter to driue away that, (as it were) with one blaste of winde, which thou canst now scarce scrape away with a file of iron.

Of Pouertie.

BEhold therefore first my pouerty, who when I was rich made my selfe poore for thy sake: howe I came to mine owne, and mine did not re­ceaue me: how I was verie poore, and as a stranger & soiourner in a forraine land: how my mother beeing lodged in an Inne as a guest in a strange place, I was borne in a stable before the mouthes of beasts, which by the heat of their breath might defende mee from the bitter cold, beeing laid vp­on haye in a manger: howe I was re­deemed with the Sacrafice of poore innocents: howe beeing an infant I was driuen into banishment, brought vp by the labour of my Mother, and fedde by almes at other folks cost, hauing neyther house nor lodging of mine owne: how I watched often in [Page 103] the mountaines: how I was spoyled of all my garmentes at the time of my passion, & died naked vpō the Crosse: beeing in so great want of all thinges, as I could not haue a droppe of water in my most extreame thirst, to refresh my dried tongue: Lastly, how after my death I was buried in the graue that was made for another. Moreouer how often dost thou thinke that I suf­fered in the whole course of my life, hunger, cold, thirst, and other vexati­ons of my bodie? and as for corporall consolation (which most men doo thinke very necessarie) I refused, and vtterlie reiected is, patiently induring penurie and pouertie in all things. But thou when thou haste euerie thinge readie at hand, that thou canst desire, thou doost flatter thy selfe, & thinkest that thou liuest in pouertie, and doost repyne if thou canst not haue euerie other thinge that thou wantest, al­though it bee merrilie superfluous, and more to please thy curious minde, then to serue thy necessarie vse.

[Page 104] Looke therefore vpon my pouerty, and leaue to be sadde, and cease to be offended, if thou seest any man pre­ferred before thee, or indued with greater aboundance than thy selfe: why art thou not rather greeued like a good emulatresse? if thou see anye man poorer than thy selfe, as (Saint Francis was,) if thou perceauest anye man (which opinion thou oughtest to carrie of all men) more agreeable to my life and pouertie then thy selfe: this should be a good kinde of emula­tiō, not to be grieued with other mens happinesse, or for that they are better then thou art, but to bee hartilie sorrie because thou art not good thy selfe, & that it proceedeth of thine own fault and negligence.

Reioyce therefore & receaue it, for a speciall token of thy grace, for an exceeding benefitte, if I make thee more agreeable to my selfe, then other men, by sending thee some greeuous sicknes, some extreame po­uertie, miserie, mis-fortune, or con­tempt in this worlde. And if thou [Page 105] wantest necessarie thinges reioyce, if they be taken away, be glad, and com­plaine of it to no man, but embrace with me the crosse of pouertie, bee­ing quiet and contented in thy mind, vsing silence and vtterly renouncing of thine owne selfe.

What doth it profitte thee (my Daughter) if thou haste for my sake forsaken the world, her riches, hir glo­ry, and the comfort of thy friends, & art nowe troubled about a thing not worth a straw, or haste not yet abando­ned all loue from such vanities as are of no value, but are readie to fight to be vexed, and to contend either for desire to attaine them, or for feare to loose them, and are not afraide in this be halfe, to breake peace and charitie with thy neighbour? Determine ther­fore nowe, and make a firme resolution from the bottome of thy hart, to contemne all thinges for the loue of me, and bee vnwilling to pos­sesse any thing, but euen such as of necessitie thou art enforced to vse, de­lighting in all pouertie, contempt, and [Page 106] penurie, that thou mayest be worthie to enioy me, who as I am better and more profitable for thee then a thou­sand worldes; so ought I to bee more esteemed, and more dearely beloued of thee, then all earthly things what­soeuer, Why stayest thou my daugh­ter? be encouraged with my example, bee enflamed with my loue, & seeke earnestly in euerie thing that appertai­neth to thy selfe, to liue in all want and pouertie. Moreouer thinke other men worthie of my consolation, be­cause they be my faithfull seruauntes, beeing farre better than thy selfe, and not so vnthankefull as thou art. And therefore beeing mooued with chari­tie, and as it were enforced with com­passion, suffer no man to want anie thing, that thou may est supplie, but help all men with thy trauaile, thy ser­uice, thy friendshippe, and by all the other meanes that are within the compasse of thine abillitie. Whatso­euer thou haste, thinke it to bee other mens, that neither thou mayest loue it when thou possessest it, nor be grie­ued [Page 107] when thou loosest it; Whatsoe­uer thou dooest enioie, thinke it is gi­uen thee for other mens vse, and to serue their necessitie.

Of Humilitie.

DEtest and abhorre with all thy hart, the honour, glorie, and fa­uour of men, with all other flatteries, and inticements of this decaitfull world. Thinke no otherwise of thy selfe, but as a proude man, vnthankfull to mee, spightfull against me, & there­fore (if I should rewarde thee accor­ding to thy deserts) worthie to be ha­ted aboue all creatures, as one vnwor­thie to bee borne by the earth, to re­ceiue breath by the aire, or to be nouri­shed & serued by any of my creatures. Wherefore aske alwaies at my hands mercie and grace, not relying vpon a­ny worke or merite of thine own, but trusting altogether in that only worke of redemption which I finished for thee, and that vnspeakable mercie which I shewed towards thee.

[Page 108] Desire of me with teares, & sighes perfect humilitie, that by it thou mai­est delight to lie hidden & vnknown, to bee contemned and had in estima­tion.

Endeuor as much as thou canst to loue those things which are most vile, and shew greatest humilitie. Choose likewise both to do and to haue those thinges which are most abiect, and which other men doo most despise, thinking thy selfe more base and lesse worthie, then those thinges that are most vile. Seeke not to set forth in thy selfe any thing that may sauour of estimation, or glorie, or that may shew as it were anie singuler gift in thee, ex­cept thou be enforced to it by neces­sitie, or of meere charitie for the glory of God. Glorie in nothing, neyther yet bost thy selfe of any thing that is in thee. And if any man doe offende or contemne thee, take heed thou be not angrie with him for it, neither vse him with worse countenance in shew, nor beare him lesse good will in thy hart. But rather meruaile that euerie [Page 109] creature doth not persecute thee to be reuenged of the iuiurie thou doost to me, that am creator both of thee and all them, and whome notwithstan­ding thou art nothing at all afraide to offend.

How Humilitie is to be obtained.

TO obtaine humilitie, consider & behold my Maiestie, my omni­potencie, my wisedome, & my good­nesse, who onlie am immortall, onelie infinite, passing all measure, without all limitation, or circumscription, in­speakeable, incomprehensible, from whome all creatures receaue their be­ing, & who am able with a beck, both to bring all creatures and the whole world vnto nothing, and againe pre­sently to restore all things to their for­mer course and order. Therfore see­ing I am euerie way of so great power, you may easilie perceaue that I crea­ted you, which are reasonable crea­tures, according to mine owne Image, not for necessitie, or for any need that [Page 110] I had of you, but of my charitie and goodnes towards you, as persons vpon whome I meant to bestowe my bene­fits, and with whome I would impart my felicitie. From which grace, since you fell by sinne, whereby you made your selues, not onely vnworthie of e­ternall life, but iustlie deserued eter­nall fire: I beeing incarnate for your sakes, suffered three and thirtie yeares hunger, thirst, cold, heate, miseries, la­bours persecutions, contempts, repro­ches, stripes, blowes, wounds, greefes, torments, and lastlie the Crosse, and death it selfe, that I might deliuer you from eternall death, which you had incurred by your owne deserts. I li­ued (my Daughter) in the world not as God, not as a mighty person, nor in a glorious show, but as the poorest, vilest, basest, & most contemptible of all others, being subiect to many tor­ments and sundrie reproches, vntill at the last I was slain, with a most shame­full and ignominious death, which the world did think I had iustly deserued, for they iudged both my life and [Page 111] Doctrine to bee detestable, as they thought it fitte to roote them, both out of all mens memorie, & to make them end with my death, whereat a great multitude of people being pre­sent, did triumph and reioyce. Yet went I as gladly to suffer it, as the Hart doth to the Fountaines of water, nay being made drunke with my loue towards thee, I ranne vnto it, and was neuer well vntill I had endured it. I spared not my selfe, neither fledde I anie labour, greefe, paine or torment whatsoeuer. I refused to doo no­thing that might bee for thy profitte, thou wert so deare and precious in my sight, that I did euen long with a de­sire to deliuer my selfe for thy sake, to be wounded in all parts, with sun­drie kindes of torments, and for thy sake also at the last to ende my life with a shamefull death.

Moreouer, because I did vehemēt­ly thirst after thy saluation, I desired to shed all my blood for thee, which I did in such plentifull sort, as I left no [Page 112] one droppe therof remayning within my body.

But how dost thou (O my Daugh­ter) requite me now for all this? what dost thou render againe vnto mee in recompence of so great charitie? Is it not euen thou which beeing vnthank­ful to me so many yeares, didst despise my selfe, didst not regard my wordes, didst loth my seruice, and didst trans­gresse my commandements? and yet shewing all reproch towards mee be­ing most vncleane & vile in my sight, beeing altogether polluted, with so many filthy abhominations, thou dost banish me from thee, thou dost reiect my inspirations, thou committest for­nication with my creatures, thou abu­sest my gift. What? why doost thou still contemne and forsake mee, not­withstanding that I deliuered thee, out of most heynous sins, and from e­ternall damnation it selfe (wherein thou haddest iustly layen burning ma­ny yeares since, if my mercie had not preuēted thee.) To be short, why wilt thou despise me, seeing I haue so often [Page 113] preserued thee, from committing of many offences, and also raysed thee out of the bottomelesse gulfe of sin and wickednesse? What? doost thou not yet at length consider, that thou art vile, miserable, and meerely no­thing, but by my grace? and how then darest thou lift vp thy vp thy face, to behold mee, whom thou haste so of­ten offended, so long time despised, so sundrie waies contemned? I speake these thinges (my Daughter) to the ende that thou shouldest knowe thy selfe.

Consider how vile and filthie, thou art in thy bodie, howe much pollu­ted in thy soule, and howe impure in thy heart. And lastlye remember, how vncleane thou haste altogether made thy selfe with wicked workes, with filthie cogitations, with corrupt & vnpure affections, and yet neuertheles how stil I forbeare to punish thee, nay notwithstanding all this, how I declare my loue towards thee, with powring my benifits daylie vpon thee, but how long must I doe this? till what time [Page 114] must I forbeare thee? when wilt thou come to knowe thy selfe? howe long wilt thou stay to returne vnto me? why doost thou not humble thy selfe vn [...] my yoake? doost thou not see, that I am not longer able to with-holde my mercies from thee? dost thou not per­ceiue how I haue called thee? in what place I haue planted thee? where are thy fruits? dost thou not know how I wincke at all thine iniquities, all thine abhominations, al thy vnthankfulnes? Yet speake I not these thinges (O my Daughter to vpbraide thee with those benefittes which I haue heaped vpon thee, but as it were languishing with looue of thee, and as it were, seeming to stand in neede of thee, (though in deede I stande in neede of nothing) yea, beeing as it were not able to liue without thee, I doo inuite thee to looue mee againe, for that vnspeak­able goodnesse and charitie which I haue shewed towardes thee, that by louing mee, thou mayest perfectlye see, what I am, and what thou art: howe much I haue done for thee, & [Page 115] howe iniurious on the contrarie parte, thou haste shewed thy selfe vnto mee for the same.

Moreouer consider, howe manye and innumerable soules are in hell at this day, and how thou haste beene farre more wicked then they, and more iustly deserued that roome, if thou haddest not beene with-holden from it by my grace: imagine like­wise, that if they had receaued as much grace from mee, as thou haste done, they would haue shewed them­selues much more thankfull vnto mee then thou haste beene, If thou con­siderest all these thinges, that is, my Maiestie, and thine owne basenesse, how proude thou art in thy basenesse, and howe humble I was in my Ma­iestie: howe farre for thy sake I aba­sed my selfe to all pouertie and con­tempt, it would not seeme so great a matter to thee, to humble thy selfe. If I say, thou wouldest rightly ponder with thy selfe, in howe much pouer­tie, in how abiect estate, and in how great contempt, I beeing so mightie, [Page 116] so rich, of so high dignitie, that is ex­ceeding all measure in maiestie, and infinite in goodnesse, and incom­prehensible in them both: was con­tent to serue thee so base, and so vile a creature, scarce worthie the name of man; yea, and did it with so great cha­ritie, fidelitie, and desire: there would by the impression of these thoughtes be bred in thy heart, so great an obe­dience towards mee, so great a reue­rence of mee, and so great a desire to serue & adore my maiesty, as can nei­ther be expressed in words, nor con­ceaued in thought. It would procure moreouer in thee, an insatiable desire, and most burning thirst, to honor me, to worship me, to exalt me, & to con­temne, humble, and despise thy selfe, and for the loue of me, to throw thy selfe vnder the feete of all my crea­tures, and beside, patiently to endure reproches, contempt and iniurie, at all their hands. For though thou doost humble thy selfe neuer so far, though thou bearest neuer so much, yet thou shouldest think that thou haddest en­dured [Page 117] nothing in respect of the thirst and desire thou feelest in thine owne minde, to abase thy selfe, and exalt mee, in so much that thou shouldest most loue those which did seeke most to oppresse and despise thee, because they did serue in this behalfe, to satis­fie thine earnest desire, and thy humi­litie, when they sought so much to humble and abase thee. If thou fee­lest not (my Daughter) these thinges as yet in thy selfe, acknowledge howe vnthankefull thou art, and howe farre from true humilitie, which is a sincere and lowlie submission of thy heart in the sight of my diuine maiestie. Af­ter which followeth euer a contempt of thine owne selfe; and a will like­wise not only to be despised of others, but euen by them to be acknowledg­ed most vile.

I exhorte thee once againe (my Daughter,) to looke into my humility, and to take example by it, howe thou shouldest humble thy selfe. See how the world despised my life, and do­ctrine, how they did falsely accuse, & [Page 118] vtterly reiect me, how they backbited me in all their speeches, how great re­proches scorne, contempts, and deri­sions I suffered, euen as a reprobate of most vile persons, and for most vile & vnthankfull creatures. Yet beeing thus mocked, and made most abiect as a scorne of all men, yet I despised no man, neither did I excuse my selfe, nor any way sought in speech to resist or reprooue them.

Recounte also with thy selfe (O vnthankfull creature, which art wor­thie to be despised) thine owne obsti­nacie, negligence, sinnes, ingratitude, inconstancie, vilenesse, & lastly, how thou art nothing of thy selfe, but by my grace onely. Bewaile, lament, and excuse thy selfe of all these be­fore me with continuall teares. What­soeuer shall happen vnto thee, turne it to thine owne benefite, and vse it as a meane to make thee humble. Take heed that thou takest not pleasure in thy selfe, but rather wonder how thou canst please or delight any other, if they did rightly know thee. Euer fixe [Page 119] the eyes of thy heart vppon the consi­deration of thine owne weakenes, and disabilitie in all respects.

Consider how thou art nothing, & what thou oughtest to be and art not. Likewise what thou haste not, & how vnable thou art to doe any good: how many things thou wantest; and to bee short, how farre thou art from true & perfect charitie: & from the perfecti­on of a holie mans life.

Call to minde also how vnlike, and how liittle agreable thou art vnto me, and remember that meerely, thou haste no good thing at al of thy selfe, but receauest all good thinges from me onely, without any other meane whatsoeuer.

Moreouer make account that thou haste of thy selfe these thinges, and no other at all; that is, an apt in­clination to sin, to offend to rebell, to stand in need of all good things, to be in necessitie and miserie, and by thine own fault both to loose & ouerthrow all those blessinges & graces which I [Page 120] bestowed vpon thee. For it is most certaine, that if I should leaue the na­ture of man, to her own libertie, & to doe that whereunto she is most incli­ned: she would do no good at all, but decline euerie day from worse to worse, seeing shee runneth so vehe­mentlie headlong nowe to commit wickednesse: notwithstanding, that I doe so earnestlie forbid her, and in a manner violentlie withold her. For the nature of man is nothing, and hath nothing of her selfe, and laboureth after that which is nothing. If thou diddest continuallie meditate vppon this, it would helpe thee verie much for procuring of humilitie. There must bee a so notwithstanding ioyned vnto this, an other kinde of humilia­tion, for thy hidden and vnknowne imperfections, which for the most parte are verie grieuous, although thou beeing purblinde doost not perceiue them. Fall therefore prostrate for these before the feete of my mercie, & bewaile from thy hart, thy incureable aptnes, and infirmitie [Page 121] to commit sinne neyther thinke euer otherwise of thy selfe, then of one that is guiltie of manie faults, blind [...]n many thinges, and most vnthankfull of all creatures.

How we ought not to care for mens iudgments.

TRouble not thy mind with ima­gining what men thinke of thee, nor what censure they giue of thee, neyther yet feare their iudgment, so long as thou doost not wittinglie (as farre as lyeth in thy power) giue them any scandall or occasion iustlie to re­prehend or backbite thee. For thou art neyther the better if they com­mend thee, nor the worse if they dispraise thee. But thou art in truth as I account thee, and as thou shewest to be in my sight. Therefore let not the commendation of any other re­ioyce thee, nor yet their dispraises grieue thee. For what doost thou gaine by the commendation of o­thers? [Page 122] nothing truelie: But it dooth rather manie times greatly hurt thee, because it deceaueth thee, and puffeth thee vp with pride and vanitie: And on the contrarie parte, what can the contemptes, reprehension, abasing, backbiting, condemnation, and per­secution of men hurt thee? Truelie nothing at all, but rather they pro­sitte thee much, for they bring thee to know thy selfe, and helpe thee not a little, to obtaine humilitie of life, and amendment of thy manners. For by it thou shalt bee made more wary and wise, in thy conuersation with men, & not to trust in them, but to put all thy confidence in me.

The iudgment of men therefore is not much to be cared for, whether they speak good or euill of thee: Let them thinke what they will, in the meane time lift thou vp thy hart vnto me, and if by searching euerie secret corner of thy hart, thou findest no­thing in it that may offend mee, feare nothing, but if by this examination thou findest somewhat, wherein thou [Page 123] haste offended me, bewaile thy fault, not because men do despise thee, (for thou oughtest then iustly both to suf­fer and desire that) but because thou haste offended me, and also giuen o­ther men by thine example occasion to sinne. But if any thing bee com­mended or dispraised in thee, which is not sinne, bee not otherwise or more mooued therewith, then if some o­ther man were commended or dis­praised.

If men praise thee, ascribe it to their error and good will towardes thee: if they reprooue thee, or con­demne thee, meruaile not at it. For what meruaile is it, if men reprooue, dispise, and condemne thy life, seeing they also reprooued my life, and con­demned all my Doctrine, which was most innocent, voyde of all spotte, and which could by no meanes bee iustly reprehended.

Reioyce rather, that thou art come to walke in those steppes, which I had trodē before, that is, if being humbled and accounted as a caste awaie of all [Page 124] men, and bee glad that thou sufferest these persecutions of men. Let o­thers imagine mischiefe against thee, I will returne their mischiefes to thy benefitte: onely endure thou all pati­entlie, and be silent.

Studdie in all thinges to please me, and not men: and yet if thou chan­cest to please men, thinke that they are deeeiued in their opinion of thee: because they know thee not as wel as I do, but do iudge thee thorough their owne simplicitie, according to that apparaunce of goodnesse which they see in thy outward show. But if thou dost displease them, impute it to thine owne deserts, & let it make thee more humble, for if they doe despise thee for so little faults, as they are able to see in thee, what would they doe, if they sawe as perfectly as I, all thy sins and offences? Delight therefore to be accounted vile & contemptible, & though thou bee despised neuer so much, yet thinke that thou deseruest to be a great deale more despised then thou art.

[Page 125] Thou oughtest to account thy selfe most miserable, most vnworthy, most vnthankefull, and most needing my grace and mercie, of all other crea­tures, remembring alwaies that of thy self thou art meerely nothing, and that all thy workes which are without mee, neither sauour any thing of vertue, nor yet are any thing worth. Whosoeuer is most wicked, thinke him better, and more worthy of heauen then thy selfe. Beleeue that other men doo merite, & thinke that thou art tollerated here by my mercie onely. Presume not ther­fore in these respects, to compare thy selfe with any man, but imagine that thou hast offended mee more then all men, and that thou art more vile and vnthankefull to me, then any creature that liueth: because whatsoeuer is of thy selfe, either is nothing at all, or els is sinne. Wherefore to extoll or mag­nifie thy selfe, by the meane of those gifts, which thou hast whollie receiued from me is intollerable, and a point of most arrogant pride, For the preuen­ting whereof, and for thy greater pro­fit, [Page 126] I doo often withdrawe from thee my sensible blessinges, because thou knowest not howe to vse them, but a­buse them, in turning them onely to the magnifiyng of thy selfe, whereas in truth thou oughtest to challenge or ascribe nothing to thy selfe, but wholy attribute all vnto mee. Take heede therefore that in the petitions which thou makest vnto me, thou hast no re­spect to thy selfe, but to me onely, lest thou shewe thy selfe vnthankefull to­wards me by pride, or detestable in my sight by thine owne negligence. Re­member how thou art nothing of thy selfe, how quick lie thou art vanquished, when I doo not protect thee: and con­sider how thou art not able to endure the smallest aduersitie, or ouercome the weakest temptation, when I fight not for thee. For of thine owne abili­tie thou haste no other power in the worlde, but onelye to corrupt and pollute what good thing so euer I be­stow vpon thee.

Thou art too apt (my Daughter) to dispraise other men, which is a token [Page 127] without doubt of great arrogancie, as though thou wert worthie to bee pre­ferred before those which, thou so dis­commendest, because thou perhaps wantest that vice, whereof thou accu­sest them, and yet are subiect to many other.

If thou wert not blind, thou might­est perceaue that thou deseruest not by this kinde of dealing, in any sort to be preferred before them: but rather thine owne tongue maketh thee more detestable then they, because it disco­uereth openly, thine arrogancie or en­uie. My friends are wont to reprooue, & accuse themselues of their own vi­ces, and not to finde fault with others: for they suspect both their workes, & themselues, neyther will they trust themselues in anie thing, because they haue bin by that meane so often de­ceaued. For they [...]eare alwaies that they seeke not me with such sinceritie as they ought, Beside they wonder at, and commend other mens workes, for they will not be brought to suspect a­ny euill of their neighbours.

[Page 128] Therefore doo thou alwaies either praise or excuse others, or els say no­thing at all, hauing euer before thine eyes, onely thine owne vilenes, and vnthankefulnesse, and wondring that all men doo not reprooue and detest thee.

Thou canst not (my Daughter) ob­taine humilitie, except thou loue to be humbled, for it is of necessitie that a mind disposed to be humbled, must euer goe before humilitie. Receaue therefore all things which I send vnto thee, as meanes to humble thee. De­light also to bee humbled and con­temned of others: Suffer thy good name to be slandered. Hold thou thy peace, and referre thy cause vnto mee. I know better than thou doost how to defend thy good name. But if thou fightest for thy selfe, thou needest not my protection. If thou dost with humilitie and patience, beare all, and be silent: I will choose a time wher­in I will answere for thee. Doe not thou by defending of thy selfe, pre­uent my gracious determination to­wardes [Page 129] thee. I will fight for thee, and will haue thee to bee patient and si­lent.

Of Obedience.

OBedience, is a most excellent ver­tue, and most acceptable vnto me, that worke which in it selfe is vilest, & least of all others (if it be done meri­ly for obedience only) it is better ac­cepted of me, and more profitable & meritorious vnto him that dooth it: then infinite others, which men doo voluntarie, and to please their owne appetite. Neither canst thou offer vnto me (beleeue me my Daughter) a more Noble and woorthie Sacrifice, then to present mee with an humble hart, obedient and readie, to doo all thinges that I shall command. For it may so fall out, as a man by obedi­ence only, may cleaue, leaue, and for­sake him selfe for my sake, and so profitte more, by denying of his own will, and bee mōre inwardly vnited vnto mee, then if hee had bestowed [Page 130] much time, in other most noble ex­ercises. Wherefore thou oughtest (my Daughter) to be alwaies as obe­dient vnto me, as if I were euer pre­sent with thee in a corporall forme, and that thou didst as continually en­ioy my presence, as a wife doth her husband, with whom she dwelleth.

When anie man shall call thee from mee, to doo some acte of obe­dience, thou oughtest to leaue me, & obey him. For this is not a forsaking of mee, but a forsaking of thy selfe: because thou preferrest my honour and my will, before thine owne com­moditie and consolation, in that thou doost according to my commaunde­ment deny thy selfe, and seekest not thine owne commodity, but the be­nefitte of others. In this sort shoul­dest thou relinquish thy selfe, and all care to please thy selfe, or to seeke thine owne commoditie. For so shouldest thou not leaue me, but find that which is a hundred times more worthie and profitable for thee then those thinges which thou forsakest.

[Page 131] Learne therefore to leaue thy selfe for my sake, that is, by denying of thine owne will, to want that fruite, that consolation, and that profitte which thou desirest to reape, for by dooing thy duty in this sort, both thou honourest me, and not onely loosest nothing in thy profitte: but also ob­tainest thinges (though it bee by an other meane) that are an hundred timies better. Wherefore esteeme nothing so precious, neyther ac­count thou any thing so profitable, as that thou wilt not bee drawne from it willingly, for obedience sake, with a minde wholie resigned to my plea­sure. For whatsoeuer the thing bee that for the loue of it, either thou refusest to performe thine obedience, or commest to doo it grudgingly, or vnwillingly, it is the Idoll of thine owne appetite: more pernitious to thee, than can be expressed. If thou be in a place where thou haste no su­periour, or where thy selfe is superiour; make all men thy superiours, obeying their will, and forsaking thine owne. [Page 132] Marry doo it not of slouthfulnes, but wheresoeuer thou mayest euen of thine owne desire, and of purpose to renounce thy selfe for my sake.

Looue the vertue of obedience from the bottome of thy hart, and leaue it not as long as thou liuest, not onlie to thy superiours but also yeeld, obey, and subiect thy selfe, (whenso­euer thou art not restrained by my will) in all thinges, and to all men for my sake, and that without beeing grieued with it, repyning at it, and disputing about it. And because thou mayest do this the more franck­ly, respect not the man, who by my ordinance is thy superiour, whether he be learned or meet for the office; neyther seeke to marke or consider, whether he be learned or vnlearned, an excellent man, or a base person. But haue regarde to this onely, that he is by my prouidence made thy superiour, by whome I will gouerne thee, and in whome thou oughtest to heare me. Aske counsell of me, and obey mee. Therefore resist not but [Page 133] yeeld to this my prouidence, seeing if I appoint such a man, I haue as much care to rule thee, and to make thee subiect vnto mee by the meane of so simple a person, as by him that is lear­ned: Yea, I haue the like regarde of thy well dooing, by any whomeso­euer it shall bee my pleasure to ap­point ouer thee. Wherefore I would haue thee subiect thy selfe vnto him, without any seruile feare, or scruple of thy conscience, and despysing thine owne counsaile, and wisedome. Sub­mit thy selfe to bee gouerned by his iudgement and opinion. Whatso­euer hee shall determine or appoint thee, accept it from his mouth as from mine owne. For I place such supe­riours ouer my seruaunts sometime, as haue small learning, & are little prac­tised in those execises, to the end that they should not regarde mans wise­dome, or respect in the man him­selfe: but rather me in the man, that am their God, and as well able to an­swere them by a simple man (if they can haue faith and confidence in me) [Page 134] as by a learned. And therefore, whatsoeuer they shall be aunswered, or howsoeuer they shall bee counsay­led at his hande, let them receaue it, not as from a man, but as from my selfe, attributing all to me and my di­rection: and ascribing nothing to the man, whether hee bee wise or simple.

If thou wouldest not therfore go a­stray, walke in the path of obedience, and doo nothing at all without the counsaile of thy Pastor or Ghostly Father, or superiour.

Liue alwaies in simplicitie and po­uertie of spirite, renouncing quite thine owne Iudgment, thine owne counsaile, thine owne sense, and thine owne opinion, neyther take any occasion at anye time to complaine or murmure, esteeming that alwaies best which thy superiour, or (if thou haste none) what other shall thinke fittest, as long as it is not manifest and apparant sinne. And therefore fullie to mortefie and kill in thy selfe thine owne will, thou shouldest not [Page 135] onely be obedient vnto men, but also subiect thy selfe vnto all my creatures for my sake.

For thou oughtest so much to hate thine owne will, and thou shouldest so much desire to extinguish it, that thou shouldest liue amongst menne wheresoeue thou beest, euen as if thou wert cleane without any will of thyne owne; that is, as if thou madest no e­lection or choyse of anye one thinge more then an other, but accepted of all things indifferentlie, that chanced vnto thee, excepting this onely, that an other mans will (if thou knowest it) muste euer please thee better than thine own, so that it be without sinne. and that honestie and discretion bee obserued in it.

Yeelde therefore vnto all men in those thinges which doo properlie and onelie belong vnto thy selfe, in such sort as if thou haddest professed obedience to them all.

Nay, whensoeuer thou shalt bee alone, doo not thine owne will, but dispose of thy selfe so, as [Page 136] thy whole course of life, and all thy exercises may tend to the renouncing of thy selfe. For this shall bee better and more profitable vnto thee than the ioyes of Paradise. And whenso­euer that my wil shalbe made knowne vnto thee, whether it bee by inward inspiration, or by the Scripture, or by thy superiour, or by some other creature of mine, or by any other meanes what soeuer: Whensoe­uer also that thou shalt bee inwardlie admonished by me, straight despise al that thou haste of thy selfe, as thine owne counsaile, thine own iudgment, thine owne appe [...]ite, thine owne opi­nion, thine own liking, or thine owne inclination, and follow my will. But thou must haue a speciall care wiselie to learne what my will is, least thou may est thinke that thou art gouerned by my spirite; when in truth thou art directed by thine owne, or els by the spirite of error or deceit. To auoide this therefore, doo all thinges accor­ding to the counsaile of thy superior, and submit thy selfe wholie to his will and direction.

How we must mortefie our owne will and desire.

NOthing can doo thee mischief (O Daughter) but thine owne will, which if thou hast once mortefied, no other creature can hurt thee, if thou beest dead to thy selfe, and hast mor­tefied thine owne desire. That is, if these words, or rather the affection of these wordes, be mortefied in thee, to wit, I, and me, and to mee, and mine, which is as much to say, as if there bee no respect in the worlde in thee, to please thy selfe, or to serue thine owne appetite: who could hurt thee when I liue in thee, and thou in me, whom no creature can resist, but is enforced to serue? Marrie if thou wilt followe or retaine stil within thee thine own will: all thinges will resist thee, all thinges will fight against thee, and in despight of thy teeth, whether thou wilt or no, thou must yeeld in the ende, and canst no way escape my prouidence, although it will bee then as a crosse to torment [Page 138] thee, and not as a consolation to re­ioyce thee.

But if thou renouncest quite thine owne will, thou shalt taste an inward peace and ioy, which that sensuall ap­petite of thine, neyther knoweth nor is able to conceiue: for nothing trou­bleth the world, but euery bodies see­king to please their owne appetite. Therefore I said to my Disciples: in the worlde, that is, in those thinges which are of the world, to witte, your own desires, which the world seeketh to satisfie: you shall haue distresse, but haue confidence, for I haue ouer­come the world, that both you may ouercome in me, and haue peace in me also. Beginne therefore thou also and taking out this lesson, both mor­tefie and plucke vp by the very rootes all the desires of the world, and all selfe loue out of thy hart. Otherwise how canst thou ouercome the worlde or the Diuell, if they haue their ar­mie within thee; that is, if they haue vices lodged within thy soule? Throw out quickly whatsoeuer is in thee, con­trarie [Page 139] to my will: and whatsoeuer fighteth against thee: in thy spirituall warfare. For neyther the worlde nor the Diuell can euer come to vanquish thee, or in a manner to resist thee, but by the helpe of those thinges which they possesse in thee. Where­fore they which doo persecute thy vi­ces, which doo oppresse thee, which shew vnto thee, and lay before thine eyes, thine owne weakenesse: to be short, which offend thee, that is, which offend thine owne will in thee, and consequently thy selfe, because thine owne will and selfe loue raigneth in thee. (For otherwise they could not offend thee, for that these things, to witte, thy selfe will, and thy selfe loue, are onely hurt and offended:) they therefore (as I saide) which doo thus offend thine owne will in thee, which shewe thee howe thou haste not mortified thine owne appetite, are thy speciall friends and benefac­tors. These thou oughtest to loue, and with all to bee glad, because they doo persecute thyne owne [Page 140] appetitie, which is thy worst aduersarie, and onely dangerous enemie. There­fore if thou wilt wisely vse, and take the benefite of this occasion, the more stronger thou shalt growe, & the grea­ter force thou shalt haue.

The lesse rule that thine owne ap­petite hath ouer thee, the more inte­rest haue I still in thee, and the further that it is banished from thee, the more fullie doo I possesse thee, because fol­lowing of thine owne will, if it doo thee no other hurt, yet it doth euer certainely bring this mischiefe vppon thee, that it suffereth not mee to haue operation & possession in thee. Wher­fore it depriueth thee of mee which am infinite goodnes it self. For though thou labourneuer so much, and deuise neuer so many meanes, thou shalt ne­uer finde any other way to come vnto me then this, which I haue taught my Disciples, saying: Hee that will come after me, let him denie himselfe, that is, let him leaue, mortefie, and quite forsake his owne wil, take vp his crosse and follow mee. Begin therefore with [Page 141] this, for this of necessitie thou must do, whatsoeuer thou forsakest, if thou forsakest not thy selfe, thou hast for­saken nothing. And contrariwise, if thou possessest not thy selfe, but lea­uest thy selfe to bee possessed by mee, thou hast forsaken all thinges for my sake, although thou liuest in all abun­dance of wealth & honor. The more that thou goest out of thy selfe, the farther doo I enter into thee, and as much as thou dost die vnto thy selfe, so much doo I liue in thee. If thou displeasest thy self, I will be the swee­ter vnto thee.

Forsake therefore all thinges, that thou maiest finde all thinges, that is, forsake thy selfe, that thou maiest find mee. Howe long wilt thou stay (my Daughter) how long wilt thou stande still amazed? All thy distresse pro­ceedeth onely of that extreame selfe loue which possesseth thy hart, and of the small confidence which thou hast in mee. Forsake therefore thy selfe, and beleeue me, dost thou thinke that I can deceiue thee? why dost thou not [Page 142] commit thy selfe to me? Why dost thou not trust in my goodnesse? What art thou able to profit thy selfe, or what canst thou do to thy selfe? What art thou without mee? art thou in any daunger? if committing thy selfe to in [...]e, thou renouncest thyne owne will? See to whome thou commit­test thy selfe? To me verely, with­out whome thou shouldest haue no beeing at all, or be any waies able to stand, much lesse then to bee safe and well. Wilt thou then committe thy selfe vnto me, with whome thou canst neuer bee ill? Wilt thou then commit thy selfe vnto me, who can­not reiect thee, who cannot forsake thee, who cannot deceaue thee, who cannot but looue thee? Throwe thy selfe into my armes I pray thee, and relie thy selfe wholly vppon me, with confidence, and without delay I will receaue thee, I will preserue thee. without mee thou art, as though thou wert not at all, therefore if thou lo­uest thy selfe, reiect thy selfe and em­brace mee, that I may also embrace [Page 143] thee, and vnite thee so close vnto me, as no man shall bee able to hurte or touch thee, but that hee must first of necessity, hurt and touch me. Wher­fore leaue thy selfe with a glad and willing minde, that thou mayest ney­ther seeke, wish or choose this or that, of any respect, looue or incli­nation which thou carriest to thy selfe, but let all thinges bee indifferent to thee, onely thou shouldest for my sake, esteeme that dearest, and de­sire that most, which thou knowest is most acceptable vnto me. For thou oughtest to meditate of that prayer alwaies in thy heart, which I offe­red vnto my Father in the Garden, when I was going to my passion, say­ing.

O Lord thy will be done: Like­wise: not mine, but thy will be done. And this also. Teach me to doo thy will, because thou art my God. Or els this: Let it be done vnto me accor­ding to thy good pleasure.

But wilt thou knowe how much thou haste forsaken thy selfe, or how [Page 144] much thou hast mortefied thine owne will? see, when losse of any thing, when reproches, when iniuries doo happen vnto thee, whether thou beest trou­bled with them, and whether thou beest more troubled when they hap­pen to thee, then when they happen to other men. By this thou shalt finde the loue which thou bearest to crea­tures: yea, thou shalt perceiue the af­fection which thou carriest to thy selfe. For thou dost therefore loue tempo­rall goods, thou dost therefore loue honor, thou dost therefore loue quiet, and thou dost therefore loue such mi­serable, and transitory thinges, because thou louest thy selfe. For thou wishest to enioy these things, whereas if thou diddest loue me, thou shouldest rather bannish all these things quite from thy hart for my sake, and take all aduersitie as willingly as thou wouldest possesse happines; to be short, thou shouldest not bee more, but rather much lesse troubled when aduersitie happeneth to thy selfe, then when it happeneth to others. For thou shouldest neuer bee [Page 145] greeued with anye accedent in this world, but onely when thou shew­edst thy self vnreuerent or contemp­tuous towardes me.

Therefore, hee that will forsake himselfe (my Daughter) his onely la­bour, exercise, and the whole scope of his desire, must tend not partly, but altogether to mortefie his owne appe­tite, to renounce his owne will, to bee transformed into a new shape, and to be in all sorts free, & deliuered from any impediment whatsoeuer, which lyeth in the way, and maketh a deui­sion betwxit him and mee. The least impediments are cogitations & forms of creatures which men frame in their minde; the greatest is a mans owne will, which the stronger it is, and the more large place that it occupieth and possesseth in a man: the lesse a [...] I present there, and so consequently the lesse doo I possesse in his soule. As long therefore as thou findest an inclination or naturall de­sire, to one thing more than another, thou art not yet perfectly mortefied, [Page 146] but thou haste somewhat remayning in thee, which thou must mortefie and extinguish.

What motion soeuer thou feelest in thy selfe, that proceedeth not from mee, what thing soeuer goeth about to busie, alter, or possesse thy mind, what likenesse soeuer of any thinge, doth labour to imprint it selfe within thy hart, whatsoeuer seeketh to draw thy liking to it, or to grieue or ouer­whelme thee: Endeuor thou with a recollected minde, close shut within it selfe, and lifted vp to me, lightly to passe ouer and careleslie to despise all hope and feare, gaine and losse, quiet and laboure, ioy and griefe, mirth and sadnesse, and all suche thinges as may seeke to possesse thy heart with all affection that thou mayest carrie towardes them. For if thou fixe thy minde vppon mee, thou shalt easily tread all these things vnder thy feete. But if thou louest thy selfe, if thou haste not wholie re­nounced thine owne selfe, thou shalt alwaies feele by following of thyne [Page 147] owne appetite, ioye and griefe, anger and feare, care and infinite other pas­sions. Wherefore thou canst neuer bee quiet, except thou haste cleane mortefied thy selfe and forgotten thine owne selfe whollie. Thou must quite abandon thy selfe, that thou mayest liue in me onely, & bend thy selfe to be wise in me only, & be sen­cible to feele nothing but mee onely. Thou shalt want nothing if thou bee content in this sorte to want thy selfe. Thou shalt want nothing as long as thou art with me, I will haue care of thee, I will protect thee, thou canst loose nothing in loosing of thy selfe after this sort, for thou shalt finde in mee, that which is a hundred times better, then the thinges which thou haste lost for my sake. Cast therefore all thy care, all thy trouble, all thy feare, and euen thy selfe also vpon me and commit thy selfe to mee. Hope and trust in me, thy hope cannot de­ceaue thee, neither can it possibly bee to great, if thou lead est a good & pe­nitent life: whatsoeuer thou cōplainest [Page 148] of to a man that is thy friend, reueale the same vnto me. I will take care of thee, I will mainetaine thee, I will de­fend thee. Wherefore see that thou regard me onelie, beeing quite bani­shed from thy selfe within thee: that thou mayest mortefie and extinguish thy selfe, that is by rooting out thy desires, thy selfe loue, thy sensuall ap­petites, and by renouncing all those delights of thine, which thou diddest desire before, and for which vnlaw­full desires I was not thy GOD, nor thou my seruant. (O my Daughter) thou oughtest to labour with all thy force, that thou mayest attaine to this obedience, this forsaking of thine own will for my sake, & thou oughtest to resigne thy selfe so wholly vnto me, & so far to subiect thy selfe to my will, as thou shouldest haue no other wil at all in thy selfe, but only that which is my will and pleasure.

Of the considerations of Gods prouidence.

AS long as there remayneth anye choyse, election, or inclination in [Page 149] thee, that mooueth thee to take more pleasure, to be better contented, and to receaue greater consolation by one thing then by an other: there resisteth some thing of thine owne in thee, & thou haste not yet fullie renounced thy selfe. For thou oughtest to take all thinges indifferently, and equally, without eyther more ioy, or more greefe, at one time then an other and onely to depend and relie vppon my prouidence. For this course woulde procure thee greatest libertye, the greatest peace, and the greatest quiet­nesse to thy soule. Stand not there­fore vpon thy selfe, beleeue not thine owne wit or thine owne force, trust not in thine owne abilitie, promise thy selfe nothing vpon thine own warrant, build nothing vppon thine owne ima­gination, and doo nothing of thyne owne head, neyther haue confidence in thine own profiting, or in thine own will, although it be indeed good: but forsaking in all sorts thine owne selfe: goe out of thy selfe, and renouncing quite all the propertie which thou hast [Page 150] in thy selfe, rest and repose thy selfe in me only, trust in my goodnes, relie vpon my grace, and vppon my proui­dence, bee ready at all times without any choyse, without any difference & without any murmuring in thy heart, to receaue for the fulfilling of my pleasure, aduersitie, as willinglye as prosperitie, both temporallye, and e­ternallie, desiring alwaies this onelie thing, that thou mayest euer be in all respects according to my will.

And therefore regard not howe much or how little thou profitest, how neere or how farre thou art from mee, howe greate or how small giftes thou haste of me, nor whether thou shalt bee in Purgatorie or no, howe long or when thou shalt suffer those paines, but refer thy selfe wholly to my pro­uidence, and desire nothing, but that thou mayest euer bee found best con­tented with that which agreeth most with my pleasure, and wish not for any greater good, neyther thinke that greater can possibly happen vnto thee, then that my first, last, and most lau­dable [Page 151] will be fulfilled in thee. Wher­fore seeke to please me in all such sort as is most agreeable to my will, let my will be both thy perfection, and the measure of thy perfection▪ Trouble not thy hart with any question or im­magination of future thinges, take no care for those thinges that bee vncer­taine, and may happen, but leaue all these thinges to me which gouerneth all, for it may so fall out, as that euill which is expected or feared, may not happen: of if it do happen, when it is present, sufficient for the day is the e­uill thereof. For howsoeuer, & what­soeuer doth by my permission chance vnto thee, my prouidence ought to please thee aboue all thinges, and thou oughtest to praise me for it, and to holde this as an vndoubted truth, that, that is euer best for thee, which doth so happen vnto thee, and that it was foreseen, & appointed by my gra­cious hand, to fall vppon thee for thy commodity: as thou doost with a full confidence whollie depend vpon my goodnes. To conceaue well of me, to [Page 152] trust firmely in mee, to commit them­selues altogether vnto me, these things I say, be as it were trumpets, whereby men doo sound out my goodnes. And therefore when I finde these things in any man, they please me so much, as I can neuer forsake him, nor suffer any euil or dangerous thing to happen vn­to him, which hath thus setled his hope in mee. The greater hope and trust therefore that thou hast in mee, the more fully & perfectly thou shalt obtaine thy desire. And whatsoeuer shall happen vnto thee, if thou belee­uest that I am so good and gratious as I will turne all thy aduersities, and all things that persecute thee, or are thine enemies to thy good, that is, to thy be­fit, I will not deceiue thee, but doo it indeede. And if at the least thou canst but frame thy selfe to accept all things in this sort, it shall so come to passe out of all doubt as I haue saide. Yet my deuout friends are wont to pray, that I may deliuer them from Purgatorie, & it is no ill petition. But when thou art come to perfection, and praiest, lying [Page 153] prostrate at the feete of my Maiestie, thou shalt desire to satisfie my iustice with that small abillitie which resteth in thee, and shalt offer thy selfe for my glorie vnto Purgatorie, and to suffer for the fulfilling of my will, whatsoe­uer it shall be my will to lay vpon thee & the fulfilling of my will shall please thee more than the escaping of Purga­torie. Therefore if thou shalt ouer­come by my grace, that inordinate loue and zeale which thou carriest to­ward thy selfe, & for thy self, to please thy senses and thine owne will, & per­fectly with a full confidence wouldest commit thy self vnto me, and rely vp­pon mee onely: thou shouldest finde that my grace would worke woonders in thee. Studdy therfore to please me, (my Daughter) and with thinking of mee, cleane forget thy selfe, and I will so continually thinke of thee, and bee alwaies such an assistant vnto thee, as I will neuer forsake thee.

Once againe I say vnto thee, accept all things which happen vnto thee, as sent purely, simply, and immediatly [Page 154] from my hand, and not from any crea­ture, admiring, praysing, and accep­ting in all thinges of my prouidence, with ioy and gladnes, and with looue & thankesgiuing to me for my good­nesse. For in all those thinges which happen vnto thee, I doo intende and worke thy saluation, and with a sin­guler affection beeing mindfull of thee, I send and appoint these thinges for thee, to the ende that thou mai­iest either doo or suffer such thinges as may mooue me to haue mercie vp­pon thee. Endeuour thou therefore to draw out of things which thou seest & feelest, and out of all things which doo happen vnto thee, an occasion to praise and honour me, that thou mai­est be worthie to vnderstand the true cause why I permitted them, that is, with howe great charitie I sent them vnto thee, and how thou oughtest to referre all these things vnto my plea­sure, to trust in me, and withall to of­fer thy selfe for my glorie, euen vnto the fountaine from whence they flow­ed, that is, vnto my goodnes. If thou [Page 155] wert perfectly acquainted with this exercise, whereby thou shouldest as willingly accept sorrow, as comfort at my hand, & shouldest also know how to finde me in euery one of my crea­tures: nothing could then seeme so contrarie and ouerthwart vnto thee, that thou wouldest not contemne and despise: yea, nothing could bee so contrarie vnto my nature & Maiestie, but that it would put thee in minde to offer sacrifice vnto mee, for I am in e­uery creature, & without me, no crea­ture can haue any being. Wherefore no creature is so neere to himselfe, as I who am most neere, and inward with themall. Wherefore thou oughtest to be so poore in spirit, as there should be nothing, that thou diddest either loue or mislike, seeke or flie, [...]eare or desire for any respect to thy selfe: bnt onely for the fulfilling of my will, which at all times & in all places thou shalt come woonderfully to vnder­stand, by those things which I ordaine, and permit, if thou seekest mee with a pure mind and hast regard to consider of my prouidence.

How we must beare aduersitie.

REceiue all aduersitie and tribulati­on as a messenger and token of my grace, which approcheth towardes thee, and therefore whensoeuer thou findest thy selfe oppressed with anye trouble or aduersitie, reioyce, know­ing that thou haste deserued it, & im­pute not that which thou sufferest to any body, but to thine owne sins, and withall giue me thankes, that looking vpon thee with the eies of my mercy, I haue vouchsafed to bestow so much fauour on thee, as to visite, reprooue, & correct thee heere with a rod like my child, and haue not vtterly reiected thee, as thou didst deserue. For as long as I chasten thee, as long as I scourge thee, it is a signe that I desire thou shouldest amend. But if I with­drawe my correction, leauing thee wholly to thy selfe, thou shalt seeme then to haue rest & be quiet, but thou art most vnhappie, when I haue with­drawne from thee that care and re­gard [Page 157] which I had of thee, & that thou art no long [...]in my custodie. What­soeuer therefore that thou sufferest, say vnto thy selfe, I haue deserued more greeuous punishment, but al­though thou haddest deserued none, yet thou shouldest beare all those ad­uersities which I lay vppon thee, for the loue of me, and for my sake (least that otherwise my good pleasure should not bee fulfilled) euen gladlie with a most patient and louing minde towards me, considering that I suffe­red so many grieuous torments for thy saluation. And yet although I had suffered nothing do not I deserue that thou shouldest suffer somewhat for my sake, in respect of those infinite benefits which I daylie powre vppon thee, seeing all that thou haste, thou receiuest frō me only? lastly, suppose that there were none of these reasons to mooue thee, yet oughtest thou to remember, that thou art mine, created and made by mee, and no lesse in my power to be framed euery way accor­to my will, then earth is, when it is in [Page 158] the hand of the Porter. And that it is therefore in my power, and a part of my iustice to doo with thee whatsoe­uer I will, and it is no more lawfull for thee to gainesay me, then for the earth to gainesay the Potter. For what hast thou to say against mee, who am thy creator, whether I sende thee comfort or sorrowe? But knowing thou hast committed so much wickednes as thou hast done, why dost thou not ra­ther desire that that contempt, where­with thou hast despised my goodnesse shoulde bee punished in thee, and thy proude and arrogant minde humbled? But there is yet another reason to moue thee the rather hereunto, that is, because I am one, which doo loue thee most faithfully, and doo prouide all things that are best and most hole­some for thee.

And seeing it was my will before I created thee, that thou shouldest suf­fer at this houre, and at this moment those same thinges which thou doost suffer: thou oughtest to desire aboue all thinges, that this my most louing [Page 159] will, beeing full of all fidelitie and charitie towards thee, may be fulfilled in thee, so as thou shouldest endure al those thinges which thou dost suffer, with gladnes, with a sweet kind of pa­tience, with thanksgiuing, with meek­nes, and with deuotion in thy hart, ha­uing no chollerick, nor bitter thought against those which seeke to lay those aduersities and vexations vppon thee: but rather thou shouldest take them as my ministers in this behalfe, appoin­ted and commaunded by mee to this purpose, and thou shouldest consi­der hauing thine eyes fixed vpon mee onelie, with how louing, how kind, and howe faithfull a heart towardes thee, I haue sent thee these troubles for thy benefit.

Receaue therefore all affliction whatsoeuer falleth vppon thee, as sent from my hande onelie without anye other meane, and take it as sent by mee of loue towardes thee for thy commoditie, accept it as gladlye as I doo sende it louinglye. And when thou suffrest no aduersity, [Page 160] thinke that my good will is alienated from thee, & that I am offended with thee, because I withdraw afflictions & tribulations from thee, which is the notablest gift and ornament where­with I am wont to honour and beauti­fie my friends.

Recount with thy selfe howe great vexations, how great pesecutions, how great contradictions, how great tor­ments, how great & wearisome toiles I suffered: how great my most deare mother endured: and to be short, how great all my friendes walking in my steps haue stayned. Remember also that no man attaineth to eternall glo­rie, but by the Crosse, and Cup of af­fliction and that there is no other way but this high waye to the heauenlie country, which way of necessitie thou must passe thorough, if thou desirest to enioy our companie in eternal hap­pines. Lastlie consider that there is nothing so small or so little woorth, which either thou dost or sufferest for my sake, but that thou shalt receaue a very great and glorious reward of me [Page 161] for it. And yet notwithstanding I will not haue thee to serue mee, or to suf­fer these things in hope of reward, but onely of meere loue towards mee. I know what reward I will giue thee, I say I will, because I doo not owe it thee in any other sort, then for that it is my will to bestow it vpon thee. For all my gifts are of free grace. Thinke not thou therefore of any rewarde, be not so base minded, but thinke of me, with a more noble, louing, and faithful hart, and submit thy selfe vnto mee, euen of meere loue for mine owne sake, to en­dure whatsoeuer my will is to lay vp­pon thee. If thou knewest (my Daugh­ter) how great fruit is reaped by tribu­lations, thou wouldest esteeme it as a great happines to glory in crosses & afflictions. The greater aduersities therefore that doo happen vnto thee, and the more contrary that they are to thy desires, yea, although they re­pugne such desires of thine as are to please mee) the more earnestly thou shouldest endeuor patiently to suffer them, & the more wholly thou shoul­dest [Page 162] resigne thy selfe vnto me. For it is done by my will and prouidence, that thy will sometime bee hindered: yea, euen when it is good, that by this meane for one vertue thou maiest ob­taine two, and withall maiest receiue the rewarde of a good worke for thy good will (although thou be not per­mitted to put it in executiō) & for the aduersitie which did hinder thy will, thou shalt receiue a crown of patience. Thou maiest adde to all these, for thy farther incouragement this one reason also, that the more thy good will is tempted by aduersitie, and the faith­fuller it is found, and the more patient it is in bearing of crosses, and such thinges as resist it: the more glorious the crowne is which I haue laide vp to reward it. Therefore because I loue thee, I will haue thee to be wholy and purely a faithfull Spouse vnto mee. I will haue thee to serue mee with re­nouncing all interest in thy selfe, and to goe, not whether thou wilt, but whether I sende or leade thee. Nei­ther must thou seeke withall to serue [Page 163] thine owne appetite, when thou labo­rest in these thinges to please mee: but rather as a faithfull, deuout, and obe­dient handmaid, which hath no will to do any thing, but that which is agree­able to the will of her Mistresse. Thou must seeke in nothing to please thy selfe, but me onely, with all sinceritie and puritie in thy intention, and that must be alwaies most acceptable vnto thee which I lay vppon thee to suffer, whether it be by the hands of men, or any other meane whatsoeuer.

Respect not therefore men, neither impute it to men, if thou sustainest any aduersitie. What blame doth the rod deserue, if the father seeking to cor­rect his sonne doth vse it? why then art thou angry with men, which being my instrumentes serue as a scourge to correct thee? Seeke not therefore to resist them, or to argue against them, but haue a speciall care that thine own impaciencie doo not hurt thy selfe, & lest thou lose that benefit by repining, which thou shouldest haue gained by patient suffering.

[Page 164] Bee therefore curteous and gentle towardes all men, in taking patiently whatsoeuer shall happen. Carry a milde countenance, and vse an hum­ble behauiour, that no choller, nor ex­claiming, no deiection of thy minde, nor sorrow appear in thee, nor yet that any thing be found in thee, which may make men to thinke, that thou endu­rest some affliction, or art oppressed with some trouble.

If any man reprooue or reproche thee, shewe him a milde and gentle countenance holding thy peace, and smile with a certaine kinde of bashful­nes and modestie, in token of thy cha­ritie which accepteth it in good part, and which taketh all things well, with­out either thinking of reuenge, or re­membring of an iniurie. Beware that thou speakest not at that time aboue two or three words, and that with great temperance. And by this meane thou shalt shewe thy selfe so humble and meeke, as euery man may presume to reprooue thee, and no man be afraide to displease thee, or to vse any reproch [Page 165] towards thee. Learne in all aduersitie whensoeuer any man doth chide thee, reproch thee, or iniurie thee, to vse si­lence, to beare it patiently, and to bee quiet, and thou shalt assuredly find my grace, which thou canst neuer attaine vnto by any other meane, then by be­ing quiet, and suffering patiently what­soeuer I shall lay vppon thee, being as willing if it stand with my pleasure, to receiue aduersitie, as to enioy prospe­ritie.

Thou hast (my Daughter & Spouse also) my life as perfect example of patience and meekenes, neither did I speake it without great reason, when I said: Learn of me because I am meeke and humble of hart, seeing that my life was a liuely patterne of patience, hu­millitie, & meekenes. For in the mid­dle of all my paines and torments, of all the derisions & blasphemies, which mine enemies vsed towards me, of all their cruell threatnings, of their most wicked and despightfull countenan­ces against mee, what complaint or shewe of repining at this dealing of [Page 166] theirs proceeded from mee? which of mine enemies did I curse? to which of them did I speake sharpely? which of them did I answere? to which of them did I wish any harme? Nay ra­ther, was I not sorry for them, when I did pray for them all? Followe thou therefore my example, and haue pati­ence still ioyned with quietnes and tranquillitie of thy soule, & be meeke without murmuring or complaining. Fight not for thy selfe, defend not, nei­ther yet excuse thou thy selfe, holde thou thy peace, and commit both thy selfe and thy cause to my protection: I will fight for thee. Cleaue therefore in the meane time whole vnto mee, in all quietnes without any perturbation, or motion in thy soul, being ready with all gladnes, rather to suffer any confu­sion for my sake, then either inwardly in thy minde, or outwardly in thy showe to vse the least murmuring in the worlde against mee. As long as thou thinkest that thou art wronged: as long as thou beleeuest my (Daugh­ter) that thou sufferest vniustly; or [Page 167] hast not deserued those thinges which thou sufferest: thou art neither come to true patience, nor yet to a perfect knowledge of thy selfe. Where­fore I would wish thee to bee alwaies ready with a ioyfull and deuout hart to runne and meete any aduersitie, that shall light vppon thee: and offer thy selfe vnto me, as one that is willing to suffer tribulations, to want all thinges that thou desirest, and both to take a­ny trauaile, and to beare any misery in what sort soeuer it shall be my plea­sure to appoint. Thinke that day lost wherein thou hast not receiued some notable crosse. If thou knew­est what great commodity is reaped by patience, thou wouldest doo great honour, and shewe great thankeful­nes to those that afflict thee. Consi­der how I, as an innocent Lambe, did carry a most meeke and quiete minde, voide of all bitternesse to­wardes those which did spette vppon mee, scourge mee, and crucifie mee, and how I excused them, and prayed for them,

[Page 168] In like sort must thou doo, and not account any thing iniurie that is done vnto thee, nor yet beleeue that iniu­ries can be offered thee, but regard me onely, respect mee whollie, and thou shalt come to learne that I, and no o­ther haue done al these things meere­ly of loue towardes thee. By dooing thus (my Daughter) there is nothing in any creature which will not bee a meane and occasion, for thee to ob­taine my grace more aboundantly, be­cause thou shalt finde me in euery one of them, so that thou dost contem­plate vppon the creature, not as a crea­ture, but vppon mee in the creature, as thou oughtest to doo. And if thou dost in this behalfe as thou oughtest, thou shalt receiue me, thou shalt heare me, thou shalt feele me in euery one of my creatures. F [...] I doo speake vn­to thee in them all: hearken therefore vnto me, & learne by euery thing that happeneth vnto thee, what I woulde haue thee doo, and when thou know­est my will, be euer most ready to per­forme it.

[Page 169] If thou diddest giue eare vnto mee after this manner, the worlde and all things contained therein, should bee a booke of instructions for thee to di­rect thee in that course, whith agreeth most with my pleasure.

Of wanting of consolation.

THE high way, and also that most excellent way, wherein all my perfect friends haue walked, & wherin thou must also walke: is, to want all kinde of consolation, when thou art compassed in on euery side with ad­uersitie and distresse, and to be so pore as there may be nothing left, to which thou maist turne thy selfe for succour, to which thou maist flie vnto for re­fuge, or in which thou maist trust: nor yet, that there be any man whom thou maist seeke counsaile of, or in whome thou maist haue confidence but in me onely, that by this meane thou maist haue no other thing to remaine for thee to doo, but onely that all thy care & cogitations may tend to deuise how [Page 170] thou mayest profit and set foorth my glorie, in sustaining of these afflictions both inwardly in thy minde, by ha­uing a desire to offer thy selfe vnto them, and outwardly in thy behauiour by seruing of all creatures, & subiec­ting thy selfe vnto them all, in such sort as if it were lawfull for thē with­out committing any offence, or doo­ing thee any iniurie to afflict thee, and tread thee vnder their feete: yea, as if they did in this no more than I charged and commanded them. In dooing thus, thou shouldest bee free, from all complayning, from all dispu­ting, from all grudging, and from all mallice against thy neighbour. And by this account thou shouldest loue those best which did oppresse thee most. Because they did open the way vnto thee, whereby thou mayest come to renounce thy selfe, and gaue thee an oportunity both to please me, and shewe thy selfe thankefull to­wards me.

Moreouer thou shouldest reioyce, that they offered thee a good occasi­on [Page 171] to exercise vertue, and to trie thy loue towards mee, and thou wouldest desire this aboue all thinges, if thou diddest indeed perfectly loue me.

There is yet an other perfection greater then this, and in a higher de­gree, that is, to be destitute both of all earthly and heauenly consolation, be­ing loaden with tentations, distresses, vexations, doubts, feares, perplexities, and aduersities, & to be as it were vt­terly reiected from me and quite for­gotten by mee, and yet notwithstan­ding all this, not to flie from mee, and go to my creatures, not to depart from me, and seeke worldly help, nor yet to desire, that consolations and reuelati­ons shoulde bee imparted vnto them. But still to trust in me, to expect pati­ently my pleasure, to cleaue vnto mee with a pure faith, and perfect charitie, and to bee readie to continue in this state, as long as it shall bee my will to permit it. Nay which is more, to refer thēselues wholy vnto mee, & to offer thēselues to suffer these, & any thing whatsoeuer, for the fulfilling of my [Page 172] and setting forth of my glorie, and to praise me in all these distresses, in such sort as they are able, although it be but with a dry and barren hart.

Of inward peace and meekenes of hart.

THou hast vnderstood sufficiently (my Spouse) how thou oughtest to bee patient, and in patience meeke, that is, howe thou oughtest to beare all things with so indifferent, peaceable and quiete a minde (for meekenes is no other thing, then per­fect tranquillitie in true patience) as nothing should bee able to make thee sad, or to vexe or trouble thee, what­soeuer did happen vnto thee, that pro­ceeded not from me in my wrath and displeasure, whether it were for a time or for eternitie, excepting this onely, which thou must alwaies carrie for a firme resolution, that thou wilt neuer bee excluded from my grace and cha­ritie, nor yet in thine owne will bee withdrawen or deuided from me: For this thou must not neglect, but take care of aboue all thinges that thou maiest alwaies bee vnited vnto mee in [Page 173] perfect charitie: Thou must also re­member, in what place soeuer thou beest, what paine or consolation soe­uer thou feelest (if the same be for the setting forth of my glorie, and by my speciall pleasure) that thou reioyce in it, because by it thou obaiest my will being ready in euery sort to be accord­ing as it shall best agree with my will, either comforted or afflicted. And when thou art setled in this resolution no losse of any externall thing that happeneth vnto thee, in this world can grieue thee: For nothing can chaunce that is contrarie to thy liking, as long as my will is alwaies thy will, and that thou hast no other wil in thee, but that which is my pleasure: Therfore then (as I said) let my will bee alwaies ful­filled in all things. And it should be the greatest ioy that thou couldest haue, when my will is performed in thee. For thou art then fully setled in thine inward man, in all peace & tran­quillity, although thou findest in thine owne outward man, distresse and de­solation, which notwithstanding thou [Page 174] dost patiently take without any per­turbation, because thy will is in all things agreeable to mine. Be quiet in this manner (my Daughter) proui­ding so, as all furie, and all kind of re­pining bee altogether extinguished in thee, and that thine irascible powre or faculty bee euen so fully mortefied in thee, as it bee vnmoueable, and not to bee stirred by any accident. Let thy concupiscible power also bee so esta­blished in vertue, as it may be wholly lifted vp vnto mee, And let thy rea­sonable power taking part of their ioyes, accord with them, so as thy con­science inioying peace and quietnesse within it selfe, thy whole soule may be in perfect tranquillitie.

Of the loue which we should beare towards our neighbour.

LEt thy hart towards thy neighbor (my Daughter) bee full of com­passion, and a chaste kinde of loue. I call that a chaste loue which defileth [Page 175] not the hart with carnal cōcupiscence, nor dooth busie it with too much familiarity, nor too often keeping of companie, nor doth staine it with anie inordinate affection, nor doth disquiet it with thoughts that procure di­straction in thy soule, nor doth trouble it with importunitie of vaine desires, nor dooth occupie thy imagination with multitude of fancies, or impres­sions of diuers thinges: but without choyse of persons, or regard of sexe doth embrace all sorts of men & wo­men for my sake, with abundance of charitie, and for it onely without any other respect at all. Therefore being full of a deuout kinde of good will & pure charitie, reioyce with euery one in all the benefites and commodities which they receiue, whether it bee touching their soule or bodie, & euen flowing with a kinde of compassion, which can neuer cease running. La­ment with euery one in their necessi­ties and tribulations, powring out the streames of thy curtesie, affabillitie, mercie and pittie to all men.

[Page] And see that thou beest infla­med with a ready desire and willing minde to comfort them, to serue them to succour them, and to helpe them, to beare the burthen of their troubles, esteeming their corporall or spirituall afflictions thine owne, & carrying the vnspeakeable affection of a most ten­der Mother towards all men whatsoe­uer. Endeuour therefore to excuse e­uery man, and to doo them good by thy praiers, benefits, and all the plea­sures that lieth in thy power. And vp­on such as thou canst bestow no other benefitte, seeke to mittigate their sor­row, with thy curteous behauiour, thy sweete speeche, or any other meanes that thou art able.

Take speciall heede that thou nei­ther iudgest, nor despisest any man, because it both harmeth thy soule and besides displeaseth mee wonderfully. And therefore exclude by all the meanes thou maiest suspicions, and ill conceits of other men, from thee: Ex­cuse also all those which fal & offend. When thou seest one to sin, say with­in [Page 176] thy selfe: that he was permitted to fall for his greater amendment, that he had a good intention, and was de­ceiued either by ignorance or error, that his infirmitie beeing too strongly assaulted with tentation, was enforced to yeeld. Say and speake it vnfained­ly from thy hart, that thou haddest fal­len much more heinously then he did if this tentation had assaulted thee. Thou oughtest not with one and the selfe same, but with a diuers eye to looke vpon thine own and thy neigh­bours acts. For thou shouldest iudge of thine owne with a seuere eye, agra­uating thine imperfections, and not e­steeming or seeking to lessen thy ver­tues. And on the contrary part, thou shouldest make reckoning of thy neighbors imperfections as very small and of this vertues as very great.

Wherefore take care alwaies ney­ther to speake nor heare ill of others. Neuer reprooue thy neighbour in an­ger though he deserue to bee blamed. For what dooth it profit thee if thou curest him, and woundest thy selfe? [Page 177] Or what doth the medicine auaile, if by it thou goest about to heale one wound, and in the meane time makest tenne others? Expecte thou a time wherein thou mayest haue fit opportu­nitie to reprooue him, and then re­prooue him with the spirite of lenitie & sweetnes, rather by entreating him, and exhorting him, then by handling him sharpely or roughly, making thy hartie praiers vnto mee, with sorrow­full groanes, that this reproouing of thine may be effectuall and work his saluation. Take heede that thou be­est not the cause of breeding dissen­tion, discord, or hatred amongst men, but let all thy speech in all places tend to peace, beeing mindfull that I said: Blessed are the peace makers, for they shall bee called the children of God.

If any man offend thee, if any man persecute thee with malice, requite his wrongs with benefits, his hard & sow­er countenance, with a sweete and meeke behauiour, his sharpe and re­prochfull words, with milde & gentle [Page 178] answers, and by this meane thou shalt more easily bring him to the know­ledge of his owne fault.

Let all the labours, miseries, pouer­tie, contempt and sorrowes, which thou seest men endure, put thee in minde of those labours, afflictions, contempts, paines and manie other sharpe and grieuous miseries, which I suffered for thy sake, that thou mayest by this meane behold me, finde mee, perceaue me, perfectly loue mee, day­lie suffer with me, and continually be transformed into me, by euerye thing which thou seest in euerie man.

Of the puritie of the hart.

ENdeuour to haue such puritie in thy hart, as beeing withdrawne from all earthly cogitations, thou mai­est not addict thy selfe to any delight, nay that thou mayest seeke no de­light, or take delight in any thing, or content thy selfe with the desire of a­ny delight whatsoeuer: cut off also not [Page 179] onely vnlawfull thoughts, but all such as be idle, and vnprofitable, suffering none of them wittingly to enter into thee. Let thy firme resolution bee to thinke nothing but either of mee, or for my sake. Receaue not into thy hart as neere as thou canst, the simili­tude and formes of earthly things, but thrust out all such impressions and fan­cies, as soone as euer they beginne to appeare. Cast all thy cares and trou­bles vpon me, be not disquieted with anye thing whatsoeuer shall happen. Keepe euer a watchful guard ouer thy hart, that no inordinate affection to man, woman, or any other creature, no sensuall desire, no vicious passion, no concupiscence, no ill inclination, or wicked intention may rest in thee.

Neuer giue thy consent that any se­paration, although it be neuer so little, remaine betweene me and thee, and see that thou doost in nothing eyther seeke or respect thy selfe, but mee on­ly, purely, simply, and wholy.

Lift vp thy hart in euery place vnto me, and keepe it still raysed from all [Page 180] earthly cogitations, that whatsoeuer thou haste to speake, to deale in, or to thinke of, thou do first deale with me in it by praier, and by the internall dis­course of thy spirit. Let euery acti­on and externall businesse, giue thee matter and occasion to pray, yea, let the very occupation and businesse of thy hart be no other thing but a con­tinuall and daylie praier. See nothing though it bee neuer so farre from the nature of praier, so deformed or so contrarie to all goodnesse, but drawe thou presently out of it, some occasi­on to pray vnto me, and to praise my name. Let all thinges bee meanes for thee to lift vp thy hart, and to raise thy affection vnto me.

What faire thing soeuer thou seest, what pleasant or delightfull thing so­euer thou feelest, acknowledge it to proceede from me, and let it put thee in minde of my beautie and glorie, that I onelie may bee thy whole de­light and consolation. Let all thinges edefie thee, and whatsoeuer hapneth vnto thee, take opportunitie by it, to [Page 181] meditate vppon some thing that may be profitable for the soule.

How we ought to referre all the good thinges we receaue to the good­nes of God.

CHallenge nothing to thy self by a­ny of my works, or by the meane of those giftes which I bestow vppon thee. Thou oughtest to acknowledge my giftes to my honour, and to won­der at my liberalitie and charitie be­stowed vpon thee, without any de­sert of thine owne, and my most gra­tious bountie. And withall thou must euer haue presented before thine eyes thine owne basenes, and how thou art of thy selfe meerely no­thing, that by this consideration thou mayest not ascribe or challenge anie thing to thy selfe out of those giftes which I bestowed vpon thee, neither yet bee reioyced or delighted with a­nie thing that thou receiuest from me, or for that I haue wrought any good thing in thee. Thou oughtest not [Page 182] I say for anie of these to reioyce in thy selfe, or bee glad for thine owne sake, that is, because thou haste attai­ned to some goodnes, for that should be a reioycing altogether in thy selfe, But thou shouldest reioyce in me, and for my gratious bountie that I haue beene so good, so liberall, so gentle, and so merciful to a most vnworthy & vnthankfull creature. Which good­nesse of mine, the viler that thou art, dooth the more manifestlie appeare in thee.

Reioyce therefore in my gifts, not attributing any praise thereby to thy selfe, but ascribing thy whole glorye vnto mee. And behaue thy selfe so discretly in receauing any of my gifts (excepting thankfulnes, and humility, which must euer increase in thee) as if nothing had beene giuen thee, no­thing had beene wrought in thee, and that thou didst feele no good at all, directing thine eyes to thine own vn­worthines, which art of thy selfe mere­ly nothing, & to thine owne disability. which art able to doo nothing, and to [Page 183] thine owne imperfection, which can­not attaine to the smallest goodnesse without any grace, that by this meanes thou mayst not bee extolled in thyne owne conceite, or reioyce in thyne owne abillitie, or flatter thy selfe with thine owne power, but all vnto mee onelie.

If thou feelest therefore any sweet inspiration, or any lightning of my grace within thee, or that by my mer­cie, thou beest inabled to do an other man a benefitte, or good turne, thou mayest reioyce in the good, which I did by thee as my instrument, but in no sorte to reioyce in thy selfe, that is, not to flatter or please thine owne ap­petite (for in it lieth hidden self loue) nor to thinke that it was done by thine own power, but rather turne away thy hart, from that which was done, and from thy selfe also, that thou mayest neuer ioyne together these two cogi­tations, which is thy selfe, and my be­nefit, except it bee (as I said) when thou comparest my infinite goodnes with thy vnspeakable basenes.

[Page 184] Suffer it to passe ouer for that time, as though it had not beene done at al, and as though thou vnderstoode no such matter: and fixe all thy cogitati­ons in the meane season vpon me, and not vpon the gift which thou haste re­ceaued from me. Looke neuer ther­fore into the gift it selfe, neither settle thy minde in that consideration, nor reioyce in it, nor yet be contented to rest there, neyther stay, if thou feelest any motion in examining and serching curiouslie, within thy selfe, what thou feelest, or what thou dost, or whether the motion proceed from me, or from some other cause, (for this dooth euer make a diuision betweene thee & me, and doth stay thee longer from com­ming vnto me) but rather passe quick­lie through all these cogitations, & re­moue them cleane from thee, and en­deuour to vnite thy selfe more neere­lie and firmely vnto me. Choose ra­ther not to know the thinges which af­ter this sort do busie the minde, then with a curious seach to hinder my grace, and to procure thereby daunger [Page 185] to thy selfe, either of being puffed vp with pride, or of pleasing thy selfe, or of reioycing by the prouocation of selfe loue in thine owne abillitie, or for thine owne glory. But refer these as all other thinges vnto mee, onely holde this with a resolute and assured minde, for an infallible principle, that if I doo graunt thee any good gift, it is giuen meerely without desert, to an vnthankfull and vnworthy creature.

This kinde of humillitie dooth woonderfully please mee, that thou shouldest be afraid and troubled in re­spect of thine owne basenes, vnwor­thines and vnthankefulnes, and be ti­merous with the consideration of these things, and feele a shamefastnes and disquiet thereby, and rather think that thou feelest no good thing at all, or that the motion proceedeth not from me, than to stay vpon the consi­deration thereof, and reioyce therein. Remember also that I forbad my A­postles to reioyce in those miracles which they wrought, or to take any glorie because vnclean spirits did sub­mit [Page 186] themselues vnto them, and obay­ed them, although they were not ig­noraunt, but did assuredly knowne that this gift proceeded from me.

In like sort therefore (my Daugh­ter) glorie not thou in thy selfe, ney­ther reioyce without me, for any con­solation or gift which thou receiuest, that is, reioyce no otherwise in it then may tende to the magnifying of my name, neither stay in consideration of the thing it selfe (for therein doth e­uer some selfeloue lie lurking, which doth easily beguile those that bee not heedefull) but reioyce in mee onely, thatis, reioyce, because I haue shew­ed my glorie, and fulfilled my will in thee. Seeke no glorie to thy selfe by my giftes, neither couer to vsurpe or challenge to thy selfe any praise ther­by, neither yet ascribe any thing to thine owne abillitie.

Ascribe nothing at all I say to thy self, or thine own power, neither suffer any other man to attribute any thing to thine own worthines, nor reioyce in it, as if it were thine own acte, but refer [Page 187] all vnto me, and keepe thy selfe from all manner of proprietie in thy selfe, from attributing anye thing to thine owne worthinesse, from desiring any thing for thine owne pleasure, or re­ioycing in any thing for thine own de­light. Liue without following thyne own counsaile, thine own iudgement, thine owne opinion.

If thou desirest (my Daughter) to be my spouse, keepe thy hart chaste & pure, free and quite alienated from a­ny other loue but mine onely, & from beeing possessed by any of my crea­tures, that it may be left whole for me to dwell in, which am thy ceator. As often as thou findest any sensuall or naturall loue in thy mind to man, wo­man, or any other creature whatsoe­uer: so often remember with sorrow­full groanes to lift vp thy soule vnto me, earnestly desiering my grace, and my fauour onely, which is a most safe refuge, a most happie hauen for thee, and that not for a time, but endles and eternall.

Whatsoeuer therefore doth busie [Page 188] thy sences with any cogitations to­wards anie of my creatures, is, neither pure, nor without danger in thy soule. Whensoeuer all thy naturall appetite receaueth any recreation, comfort or delight, (if thou seekest to attaine to a perfect puritie) thou must of neces­sitie renounce that pleasure whether it bee in wordes or anye other earthlie thing. Thou must passe ouer all things with a free minde, in no sort subiect or in bondage vnto them, nor adhering to any but me onely. Take this also with thee for a certaine rule, that no­thing maketh a man so free from the loue of himselfe or any other creature and so far from beeing intangled with anie earthlie cogitation, as to despise himselfe and all creatures, and to ac­count of me in his hart, as his onelie precious Iewell, esteeming all other thinges (as they are indeede) as filthie dung.

Make a dilligent search in all thy actions, studies, and desires, what mo­ueth thee vnto them, & whether thou speakest or holdest thy peace, whether [Page 189] thou doost somewhat, or beest at rest, looke narrowly into the innermost corners of thy soule, that is into the verie marrow of thy cogitations and intentions, and thou shalt often finde that the originall roote & seed where­of this groweth, and from whence this doth spring, which thou thinkest diuine, is meerely humayne, impure, and a lewde seeking to please thine owne appetite.

Take heede therefore that no vi­cious thought enter into thee, nor any inordinate luste remaine in thee. Oh if thou haddest thy hart clearely deli­uered from the loue of euerie crea­ture. Oh if beeing wholly conuerted vnto me, thou diddest desire mee on­lie, I woulde with as great a desire run to meete thee, and enter of mine own accord with as great affection into thy hart, as if I coulde not liue without thee, or that without beeing with thee I could not enioy perfect happines & contentation.

This course I know wil seeme grie­uous vnto thee at the beginning, and [Page 190] it cannot be without some troble thus straightly to note and obserue in all thinges what thou seekest, what thoughts possesse thy hart, and when­soeuer thou findest any cogitation that is not of mee, or for my sake, present­ly to root it out of thy minde. This I say, will procure thee great labour, and affliction of thy spirit. For thou shalt finde both thy selfe, and thine owne appetite lie lurking in many thinges wherein thou must of necessitie for­sake both, and presently mortefie any desire that is vnlawfull, and inordinate in thee. For if thou seekest to ouer­come thine owne nature, it followeth of necessitie that thou must doo it by violence and forcible meanes. And therefore thou shalt finde as many crosses, as thou hast wicked or impure inclinations, which must be mortefied in thee. But by this meane (my Daughter) thou shalt first come to knowe thy selfe, for by seeing thine owne disabillitie and weakenes in that thou canst not ouercome thy selfe, thou shalt be humbled.

[Page 191] And whereas before thou though­test thy selfe to bee somewhat, thou shalt then plainlye finde that thou art nothing: And if thou persistest in this course with continuall and inces­sant labour, that which at the first was painefull, thou shalt quickly finde to be very easie. For this dilligent and daylie looking into thy selfe, and ex­amining of all thy thoughtes, doth worke many thinges in thee, very pro­fitable for thy saluation. It will shew thee thine infirmitie, and imperfecti­ons, it will breede in thee sorrow, for those sinnes which thou findest in thy selfe, and an earnest desire to be deli­uered of them. It will also make thee very carefull to beware of manye of­fences, & to auoid many dangers, into which otherwise thou wouldest haue fallen. To conclude, the labour & distresse which thou sustainest, and the toyle which thou takest to be clearely rid of these imperfectious, and the teares which thou sheddest (because thou canst not ouercome thy selfe, & cleane be without those thinges which [Page 192] thou wouldest altogether forsake (shal bee a baptisme vnto thee for the pur­ging of thy soule, and for the expiati­on of thine offences. Faint not there­fore in thy courage, for thou shalt ouercome all thinges by setling thy whole trust in my mercie. Haue con­fidence in me, & thou shalt finde that I wil make these crosses light for thee, & help thee my selfe to beare part of the burthen.

How diuine inspiratitions ought to bee obserued, and the grace of God not neglected.

HAue care (my Daughter) to a­bounde alwaies with vertuous customes, and to spend thy time in good exercises, that thou mayest vse the same as a meane to lift vp thy hart vnto mee when, thou feelest no other great or sensible motions of my grace within thee. But thou shouldest neuer addict thy selfe so much to thy exercises, as to prefer thine own con­ceits before my inspirations. For [Page 193] whensouer thou haste learned to know my will (whether it bee by the manifestation of the will of thy supe­rior, or by my prouidence, by which of doubtfull euents, I doo sometime fet downe a certaine iudgement) fol­low that straight way, and forsake thine owne appetite. Whensoeuer al­so thou findest a sencible and plaine motion of me within thee, presentlie leaue thy selfe and obey mee, by fol­lowing of mine inspirations. For I holde not my selfe satisfied though thou doest serue me, seeke me, and bend thy selfe to please mee; but I will haue thee to serue me in such sort, as my will is to be serued, that is, I will haue thee cleane to forsake thine own will, yea, although it bee in a thing which is vertuous and commendable, to followe my will in an other thing, which is not halfe so good, but see­meth to be vile and of no value. For the same thing in respect of my will, that is, because it is my plesure, my or­dinance, & my appointment to haue it so, is not only not vile, & of no valu, [Page 194] but very good, yea and much better also then the other. Thou must ther­fore often omit and alter thine exerci­ses in this sort, not of negligence, not of slouth, not of any inconstancie of thy hart, but of a pure, and meere re­nouncing of thy selfe, that thou may­est not in any place, or in any thing stand vpon thy selfe, but relie wholie vpon mee, with a firme and full confi­dence in me. Oh if thou knewest what great danger, and what great losse of spiritual profit is incurred by not recei­uing of mine inspirations when I send thē, & how damnable it is to resist my diuine motions, thy hart would euen consume for griefe, and very feare of my iustice. Wherefore (my Daugh­ter) stande alwaies in feare of thyne owne actions, and suspect thy selfe euer of vnthankfulnesse towards me. Be euer in doubt that it may so happē vnto thee for thy deserts as it hath hapned to many other, that thou maiest for thy pride & ingratitude bee iustly forsaken of me, & deseruedly fal from my grace.

[Page 195] Bee humble therefore alwaies ha­uing no confidence in thy selfe but in me. Pray continually for my grace, & obserue my inspirations with great heede, that thou mayest know what I require of thee, and it is not only suf­ficient for thee to know my will, but to doe it whensoeuer thou shalt come to know it, & despising all other things whatsoeuer, to preferre it before anie delight or contentation of thine own. And whereas I warned thee, that thou shouldest be afraid for loosing of my grace, and for beeing forsaken of me by thine owne negligence and ingra­titude; thou must haue a speciall care that this feare proceed not of despe­ration or of a weake faith, but of hu­militie, which is euer a feare, full of hope and confidence in me.

If thou beest not able to imitate the exercises of other men, bee not therefore discouraged, or deiected in thine owne minde. For thou shouldest not so much respect other mens exer­cises, as their vertues, seeing that I do distribute my giftes to euery man ac­cording [Page 196] to his constitution by nature, and that perticuler vocation wherun­to I call him, and agreeable to that scope, and certaine end whereunto I appoint him. I furnish him also with diuers exercises, fit for him, which are vnfit for manie other, and not meete for euerie bodie, because the nature or vocation of perticuler men. (to the which my grace for the most part, is accommodated, and made agreeable) is different, and many times very con­trarie. If therefore thou canst not followe other mens exercises of ver­tue, yet thou mayest immitate their vertues, for they be not different, but one and the same in all. As for exam­ple, thou mayest be humble, thou maiest be merciful, thou maiest be pa­tient, and thou mayest resemble other men, in the verie same vertues, though thou canst not immitate them in the verie same exercises. For there is but one way to please me, which hath bin to all my holy seruants euer one vni­forme and the same. This is the way of charitie which hath manie and sun­drie [Page 197] exercise, of my holie seruaunts, directed to one ende, and which thou must walke, by whatsoeuer meanes I shall appoint vnto thee. If thou wal­kest in this way of charitie, that is, if thou follow mee, by receauing of all things as from me, by committing of allthinges vnto me, by humbling thy selfe vnder my mighty hand, by yeel­ding thy selfe vnto me, by respecting me onlie, and seeking my glorie in all thinges, that either thou doest or spea­kest; I will not suffer thee to goe a­stray, though thou walkest in neuer so great darknesse or ignoraunce, though thou beest vexed with neuer so great temptation or distresse, and though thou thinkest thy selfe neuer so quite forsaken or reiected by mee. Haue thou therefore consideration alwaies of thy vocation or calling, and vse exercises agreeable to the same, bee­ing euer readie to leaue them, change them, discontinue them, and re­sume them, according as thou shalt be directed by my inspirations, pro­uidence, and good pleasure. For [Page 198] thou shouldest not measure thy per­fection by this or that mans account, nor by thine owne estimation: but thou oughtest to measure it by my good pleasure, resigning thy selfe whollie thereunto, that thou mayest not seeke to attaine to this or that mans affection, or to such as thou de­sirest thy selfe, but to such as my will is to appoint thee. Let that perfecti­on therefore which thou desirest con­sist, eyther in abundance, or scarcitie, according to my will and good plea­sure.

Wish and pray that thou maiest be such a one in my sight, as my speciall will is to haue thee. Obserue diligent­lie, and learne both to know and fol­low the inspiration of my grace. If thou neither seekest to please thy naturall inclinations, nor in thy spiri­tuall exercises, but respect me onelie with a pure intention, thou shalt quick­finde the way wherein I woulde haue thee to walke, and the course which my desire is thou shouldest alwaies holde.

How we must imploy the giftes of God which we receaue to the benefit of others.

I Will not haue thee (my daugh­ter) to neglect those graces, and gifts which I bestow vpon thee. But take heed also that thou dost not seeke thine owne commendations in these graces, of mine, that thou dost not by them ascribe any thing to thine owne worthines, that thou beest no puffed vp with pride, that thou doost not boast of them, glorie in them, or de­sire to please thine own selfe by them, but imploy them al wholie to my glo­rie: remembring euer specially aboue all thinges, that of thy selfe thou art nothing, haste nothing, and art able to doo nothing. And that whatsoeuer thou haste, thou haste receaued from mee onelie. And that I loue not to haue my giftes returne vnto me fruit­les, and without dooing of any good, but with gaine and vsurie, as I forewar­ned all men in the parable of tallences [Page 200] which I spake of in the Gospell. For as thine eye in thy bodie is not an eye onely for it selfe, nor is placed there onely for the vse and benefit of it selfe but to the end that it may help all the rest of the members to see: so what talents or gifts soeuer I haue be­stowed vppon thee, I haue not giuen them for thine owne selfe onely, that thou shouldest reape the whole fruite and benefitte of them, to thine owne vse, but I haue placed these giftes or good thinges in thee, for the benefit of other members of my misticall bo­die, that by them thou mayest serue o­thers, help others, and both gaine and draw thy neghbours to the knowledge of my will, and the dooing of my commandementes. For peraduen­ture I gaue not them those thinges which I gaue thee, because in thee I prouided, both for them and thy selfe also, as on the contrarie part, I haue to the same end with-holden many gra­ces from thee, which I bestowed vp­pon them. For in these thinges which I bestowed vppon others, I had [Page 201] respect vpō others, I had respect vnto thee, & gaue them not for themselues onlie, but for thee in thē, because I be­stowed those graces vppon them for thy benefit. I require therefore at thy handes, that thou employest my gifts to other mens commoditie, & he pest other men most willinglie by them as much as lieth in thy power. If thou canst doo somewhat, which they can­not, that so by this meane one kinde of charitie remaining in you all, may make of many of you one bodie: and whatsoeuer this bodie hath in one member, let him employ it to the be­nefit of the rest. For euery member ought to make one another partaker of the gifts which euery one of them receiueth by reason of the vnion of the bodie and communion of charitie which is amongst them.

Let this consideration of my will make thee (my Daughter) chearefull to serue thy neighbours, glad to beare their burthens, meeke to suffer with them, gentle to comfort them, readie to succour them, and willing to reioice [Page 202] with them, that no enuy at all, no con­tention, no emulation, no seeking to please thine owne appetite, be founde in thee, nor yet that any of these thinges may appeare in thy fellowes, but that there may remaine betweene you perfect charitie, and the commu­nicating of my gifts one with another, as betweene the members of one bo­die: For thou hast nothing that is thine own. For what hast thou that thou hast not receiued? Wherefore thou hast nothing, as I saide, that is not mine, thou hast nothing that is giuen to thy selfe alone, that is, thou hast nothing that is giuen thee for thy selfe onelie, but all things whatsoeuer thou hast re­ceiued, are committed to thy custodie to be altogether emploied for the be­nefite of the whole bodie of my Church, & looke vnto it, for I will re­quire an account at thy handes, howe thou hast bestowed the same. Take heed therfore that thou be neuer cari­ed away with so profoūd a contēplati­on, or thinke thy self so well & so per­fectlie contented in beeing with mee, [Page 203] but that (if neither the corporall, or spirituall necessitie of thy neighbour doo call thee away from it) thou bee ready to forsake thine owne consola­tion, the commodity of thine owne deuotion, yea, and the sweete exer­cise or matter wherewith the consola­tion it selfe is nourished, & neglecting wholly to please thy selfe, bee willing to runne in hast to helpe thy neigh­bour for my sake. For this is perfect charitie, not to seeke thine owne, but thy neighbours benefite. And this charity is more acceptable vnto mee, and more profitable for thy selfe, then all the contemplation or deuotion that thou canst vse of thine owne. Moreouer, remember alwaies that in all thy actions, in all thy affections, & in all those thinges which either thou dost or makest choise of, or sufferest or seekest to auoide, I may be thy be­ginning, thy middle, and thy ende, that whatsoeuer thou dost, or leauest vndone, may be for my sake, and that in the following of this course, thou seekest no other thing, but onely my [Page 204] glory, and the fulfilling of my plea­sure. For the deede is not so accepta­ble to mee, in respect of it selfe, when thou dost succour, or takest compassi­on vpon thy neighbour: but thou art in dooing hereof most acceptable in my sight, because thou dooest for my sake, leaue thy selfe, that is, because thou forsakest thine owne commodi­tie, and seekest to relieue thy neigh­bours necessitie. For if thou dost any thing for any other respect, whether it be for fauour, friendship, or any speci­all bond of kindred or familliaritie, or for any commoditie, or recompence which thou lookest to receiue. I ac­cept not of it, but reiect it, although it bee neuer so great and worthy an act. For I accept of no sacrifice that is offe­red vnto mee, if it bee not offered for my sake, onely and wholly.

Of pouertie in spirit.

DOO with all zeale and earnest­nes, as many good works as thou [Page 205] art able, hungring, and thirsting after iustice. And let no man seeme vnto thee more weake and imperfect, more voide of all vertues, and more vnwor­thie of my grace then thy selfe. Fixe thine eyes alwaies vpon thine owne defects, bewailing & lamenting that thou hast so many imperfections, and wantest so many vertues. But remem­ber withall that it is not thy duetie, to thinke, and looke into other mens manners, what vertues they haue, what waies they walke, and howe they be­haue themselues towards me.

I knowe what I haue giuen euerie bodie, I knowe also what account is fit for mee to require at euerie bodies handes. Imagine thy selfe in thine owne eies the basest, vilest, & wicked­dest of all men, and as it were meere­ly nothing. Bee ashamed in my pre­sence, if thou hearest anie man praise thee, or shew a good conceit of thee, and be sorry for it, because by it they doo me iniurie, in that they think well of thee which art so vile a soule, so vncleane, so vnthankfull, & so full of [Page 206] offences against me. Thinke thy selfe so vile, as that euerie man may lawful­lie and with iust cau [...]e contemne and despise thee, and that thou maiest not think thy selfe iniured, or els wrong­ed at anie time whensoeuer anie seeke to lay reproches or afflictions vppon thee. For thou oughtest to receaue commendations or reproches with an equall contentment in thy minde, and without anie difference, but onely in accoūting thy selfe altogether vnwor­thie of commendation, and moste worthie of reproche. For as long as thou thinkest thy selfe to be wronged, as long as thou complainest, and dost beleeue that thou haste receaued anie iniurie, thou art not clearelie purged of selfe looue. For thou shouldest not in truth, take anie thing for an in­iurie, but that wrong which is done vnto me. Submit thy selfe therefore so whollie to my will and pleasure, as thou maiest be as well content with euill as with good, with griefe as with ioy, which by any externall accident doth happen vnto thee in this world, [Page 207] remaining alwaies poore internally in thy spirite, hungring and thirsting (as I saide) after iustice, and hauing a hart free from all earthly cogitations, and ready withall zeale and earnestnes e­uer to doo those thinges which agree best with my good pleasure.

Of the loue of God.

O (My Daughter) euen as the Hart desireth to come vnto the Foun­taines of water, so let thy soule haue a desire to come vnto mee, & thy minde be enflamed with the loue and desire of mee. Hee that is oppressed with a vehement thirst, can think of nothing but of drinke onely, for whatsoeuer he doth, his burning thirst neuer for­saketh him, but stil prouokes him with earnest cogitations and continuall de­sires to haue some drinke. In like sort if thou diddest loue mee perfectly, if thou diddest long for me vehement­lie, thou couldest thinke of nothing els, but how thou mightest come vnto me, how thou mightest be vnited vn­to [Page 208] me, there would alwaies remaine in thee such a hūger & thirst after iustice, that thou wouldest neuer bee satisfied or contented with that which thou haste done to mine honour, how great soeuer it were, but euer grieued and perplexed in thy minde, with think­ing that the same which thou haste done alreadie for my honour was no­thing at all. Thou wouldest alwaies endeuour thy selfe to doo better, thou wouldest alwaies thirste to bee more perfect, thy hart woulde euer burne with desire to be more neerely vnited vnto me, to honour me more, & more fully to fulfil my wil & good pleasure. They which are inflamed with an ex­ceeding & an vnmeasurable loue to­wards anie man or woman, doo loath meat, drinke, and all other thinges, which seeme eyther for delightes to please them, or for necessarie vse to sustaine their bodie, and pine awaie, & growe sicklie, if they can not enioye their desire, or if they finde and per­ceaue that they are not loued againe. For they languish with meere loue, & [Page 209] that maketh them, that they can nei­ther take any ioy, nor receaue any cō ­fort, nor finde any rest, except they may obtaine that which they loue. (O my Daughter) thou oughtest to loue mee in this sorte, that thou mightest finde in me onlie ioy and consolation, and without me in all places nothinge but sorrow and affliction. If thou did­dest rightly loue me as thou shouldest doe, thou couldest not be in rest vntill thou diddest possesse me. For there would a continuall thirste, hunger & desire burne within thy soule, not per­mitting thee to enioye anie quiet at all.

O that thou diddest languish with such a kinde of loue towards mee, or that hating all other thinges thou did­dest desire mee onelie. O that thou diddest present thy hart vnto me quite weaned, and clearely deliuered from all other loue whatsoeuer, that I may still draw it after me, and both pearce it thorough and wounde it to the bot­tome with my loue. Oh howe happie shuldest thou be, if being made quite [Page 210] besides thy selfe, and drunke with ex­treamitie of loue towardes mee, thou diddest despise all thinges els, thou diddest loath all my creatures, and diddest runne only after mee, crying vnto me, I am wounded with thy cha­ritie. Thou oughtest my Daughter to be enflamed with so feruent an affecti­on towardes mee, as whosoeuer did come neere vnto thee might perceaue no other thing els, but only the heate of thine affection towardes me, brea­thing out of thee, and whosoeuer did talke with thee might depart edefied from thee, and warmed with the flames of that affection towards me, which hee found kindled in thy soule, If therefore thou desirest to loue me, thou must loue mee with thy whole hart. I will not allow that thou shoul­dest loue me, and ioyntlie with mee anie thing els besides me, that is, that thou shouldest not loue any thing for anye other respect but for my sake onelie. I looke to bee loued purely, and that thou canst neuer doo but when thou louest mee, for my owne [Page 211] selfe, that I onely & no other respect, whatsoeuer be the cause why thou lo­uest me. I will also be beloued with an infinite loue, and with an vnmeasu­rable desire, for thou shouldest neuer finde in thy soule anie end or measure in louing me, but although thou did­dest loue mee neuer so much, thou shouldest alwaies desire to loue mee more. For my loue is not restrayned within any limits▪ but it is infinite and without any bounds. It neuer think­eth it selfe satisfied, it can neuer be fil­led or contented with any quantitie, though it bee neuer so exceeding great, it will euerie day grow and in­crease to be more. For charitie doth alwaies encrease, and what is charitie but a good will. As therefore a good will cannot bee restrained within any limite, and as it is without all end, so is charitie likewise. I knowe that thou haste a will to loue mee with all thy heart, and that thou desirest to loue me as much [...] thy selfe alone, as all my holy seruants do, ioyning all their loue together. This desire is good, if [Page 212] it procede not from an appetite of de­siring, in respect that thou wouldest be more excellent then they, and sin­guler aboue them all, as though thou onely couldest loue mee as much as all they, when all their loue were put together. It is a good desire I say, if it springeth from pure & perfect cha­ritie only, & that thou doest for mine owne sake, without any other respect, desire me, loue me, and wish still to encrease in the loue of me, and seeke to loue me as much alone, as it is pos­sible for all other beeing ioyned toge­ther. Haue care therefore that this desire of thine proceed not of any ap­petite to bee preferred before others, but onelye because charitie can neuer be satisfied or filled, & that the great­nes thereof maketh thee thinke that how much soeuer thou louest mee, is much inferiour in thine eyes to that af­fection which thou dost desire to car­rie towards me, and in no sorte either answerable, or agreeable to thy de­sire.

My loue is no idle loue, but it wor­keth [Page 213] great thinges where it is indeede. And where there is no desire but an vnaptnesse and vnwillingnesse to doo good workes, there is no loue with­out all doubte. And yet notwith­standing this, if thou wantest abilitie to do good workes, bee not therefore discouraged (my Daughter) or de­iected in thy minde, for thy good will pleaseth mee as much as if the worke were done, and is as acceptable in my sight. I will not require an account of thee for that I haue not bestowed vp­on thee. For it is not the multitude of workes, but the greatnesse of loue which delighteth mee. Many good workes, if they bee presented vnto mee without charitie, doo pacifie me no whitte at all. For what is chaffe to me without wheat? to whomesoe­uer thou doost offer wheat, which is loue, offer him also chaffe which is workes. For although I regarde not workes without loue, yet I will haue good regarde of thy loue without workes, so as thou be hindred by disa­bilitie, necessitie, obedience, or any o­ther [Page 214] lawfull impediment, in such sorte as thou art not able to do good works. For then (as I haue saide) I accept of thy good will: But where power wā ­teth not, if loue remaine it doth ex­tende it selfe, and exercise it selfe to­wardes me, and for my sake towardes her neighbour. For I haue placed him as a companion with thee in my steed, that whatsoeuer thou wouldest be­stow vppon mee, and cannot, thou mayest bestow vppon him. And that thou mayest doo it the more willing­ly, I haue promised that I will accept as well at thy handes, and rewarde as largely any thing that thou doost to­wards thy neighbour, as if thou had­dest done it to my felfe. For if thou haste charitie, it worketh so in thee, as thou louest him for my sake, thou be­holdest me in him, thou seruest me in him, thou dooest mee benefits in him, thou dost beare with mee in him, thou dost suffer me in him, and if he offend thee, thou dost forgiue me in him.

And for this cause I gaue him vnto thee in my steed, that thou maiest be­stow [Page 215] these good turnes vpon him, as time and place serueth, and as thou haste oportunitie offered by mee to doo the same. For thou must not for­get that which I repeated before, how charitie is not to bee measured or e­steemed by the multitude of workes, but by the greatnesse and sincerity of thy affection, that is, by the inward de­uotiō of thy mind, ioyned with a pure, chaste, and internall disposition, incli­nation, & intention of thy will, which the more readie, prompt, feruent, and desirous it is, to obey me, honour me, and please me, and the more that shee renounceth her owne selfe, in seeking to please mee purelie, without any o­ther respect, and to preferre mee be­fore all other creatures, the more shee is drawne to loue mee, and the brighter shee doth openly shine in all good workes.

O if the children of men did know how much it pleaseth mee to dwell in such a soule, howe gladlie I doo offer my selfe vnto her, which desireth mee onely, how bountifull I do powre my [Page 216] selfe into such a heart as dooth seeke me only, with a pure intention beeing withdrawne and free both from the loue of her selfe, & of any other crea­ture beside, desiring me feruently, re­specting mee whollie, staying for mee patiently, and refusing to be comfor­ted with any other thing but with me onely. Nay, such a hart as I speake of, will not desire to bee comforted by mee, because shee thinketh her selfe vnworthie to receaue any consolati­on from me, but desireth onely to bee satisfied with hauing my good will & pleasure fulfilled in her. For she only desireth to doo, to suffer, and to bee in no other sorte then agreeth with my pleasure, & then although such a hart neyther desireth comfort, nor any thing els, which is without mee, yet I doo rewarde and enrich her with all blessings and benefits. For there can bee nothing wanting in anie creature, neither can there bee any thing forsa­ken for the loue of me, that is so good, but that there shall bee found in mee things in steede of them, a hundred [Page 217] times better, purer, sweeter, pleasanter and more delightfull than they were. For whether it be beautie, sweetnesse, pleasantnesse, delight, loue, truth, consolation, the continuall enioying of such thinges as men do like, riches, glorie, power, and innumerable other thinges of the same sort, which either may bring delights to them, or pro­cure desire to them: all these thinges, are after an infinite manner more ex­cellent, and more perfect in me, than in any creature whatsoeuer.

O my Daughter, the smallest con­solation which thou feelest by the presence of my goodnes in thy soule, doth surmount all the delights of the worlde, and the pleasure that can bee taken in any creature whatsoeuer. Yea all other delightes beeing compared with it, doth seeme bitter and vnplea­saunt. Wherefore, if things were measured by a true and iust account, it could not bee, but that men woulde loue mee better then themselues, or anie other creature. But nowe (it is a lamentable thing to bee spoken) [Page 218] men doo leaue mee which am theyr greatest good, they despise my good­nesse, nay which is more, they for­sake their owne true and onelye hap­pinesse, and fall to loue themselues, to delight in the world, from whence all disquietnes of minde, and all o­ther mischiefes doo proceede. Alas, why are miserable men so farre de­ceaued? If thou delight in loue, why loue they not me? whose loue is chast, pure, holy, and simple, which am an obiect alwaies offered to their eyes of infinite amiablenes beeing essentially good in my selfe, being a pure good, vnmixed, beeing the chiefest and so­ueraigne good, where the rewarde of loue also is vnspeakable delight, and most blessed eternity, wheras the loue of the worlde on the contrarie parte, dooth breede nothing in thy soule but vnquietnesse, bitternesse, distructi­on, repentance & heuines. Leaue thou therfore & cōtemne al worldly things and desire me only, being vnited vnto me with all thy soule, with al thy hart, and with all thy will. For as long as thou dost addict thy selfe to the loue [Page 219] of creatures, thou shalt finde that which is in creatures, that is, thou shalt be defiled and disquieted, with cor­rupt and vncleane delights, and yet besides that be neuer satisfied or con­tented. And thou shalt also be pollu­ted with vnpure imaginations, and be distracted with sundry cogitations, that be lewd and wicked. But I doe collect that hart which seeketh to bee ioyned with me, and I vnite it fast vnto mee, procuring in it by my meanes all peace, quietnes, and all tranquillity of conscience.

Thou oughtest continually to in­treat mee, and without ceasing to pray vnto me, that thou mayest after this sorte forsake the world, renounce the loue of all my creatures, and be who­lie conuerted vnto mee, and inwardlie dedicated in thy soule to my seruice. For no man can bestowe this grace on thee, neyther canst thou obtaine it by any other meane but by mee onely. Wherefore thou must alwaies with great regard obserue the internall in­spirations of my grace, thou must fol­low [Page 220] my counsaile, obey my exhortati­ons, and commit thy selfe altogether to my prouidence. My inspirations doo neuer disagree from the holie Scripture, nor from the obedience which thou must carrie to thy superi­ors. Therefore if thou submitest thy selfe vnto them, and reliest in no re­spect vppon thine owne selfe: thou art sure to walke in all simplicitie & puritie of hart.

Loue is an incomprable treasure, & therefore I should be the store-house of the same, and it should neuer bee laid vp, but in me only. O (my daugh­ter) where thy treasure is there is thy hart also. If then thou wilt knowe what thou louest, marke what thou dost oftnest thinke vppon, what thou dost with greatest delight, & willing­nes harken vnto, what thou dost most feruently desire, what thou doost in­wardly in thine owne appetite most seeke, and bend thy selfe vnto: for that is, without all doubt thy treasure, and therein thou findest sweetest rest, most quiet, and greatest contentation. [Page 221] And both of them is thy treasure, both the thing which thou louest, and the loue wherewith thou louest the same. But see into how great mise­rie, how great vnthankfulnes, & how great infelicitie men doo fall by this meanes, for they do purchase to themselues hell fire, with the expence of incomparable treasure which is loue. For if men contemning me, fal to loue corrupt, vncleane, and fraile thinges, such as will quickly perish: they doo with the same loue, which they be­stow vppon them procure vnto them­selues eternall torment. Let all my friends therefore bewaile and lament, this strange and vnnaturall kinde of dealing, that I am cleane thrust out of the hart of man, for whome I offered vp my selfe in sacrifice, and whose sal­uation I did buy with my precious blood, & that an other which is mine enemy dooth possesse it only to this end, that he may draw them with him into eternall destruction, into endles misery, and into vnquenchable fire.

Of the praise of God.

BE alwaies inflamed (my Daugh­ter) with a desire to praise mee, to loue me, to honour mee, & to please me from the bottom of thy hart alto­gether, and by all the meanes that thou art able, and in such most perfect sort as I require at thy handes, Carrie alwaies in thy heart so great a reue­rence, so great a feare, so great a care, so great a loue, and affection towardes me, and for me, as thou mayest neuer doo any thing to displease or offende me. And although it ought to bee thy greatest care, thy chiefest feare, & thy speciallest labour, not to doo anye thing thy selfe, or to giue any occasion by thine owne negligence, that anie thing should be done to offend mee: Yet neuerthelesse, thou oughtest al­so to take as much care as lieth in thee for others, that I bee not by them dishonoured, or offended, or that they doo breake my will and com­maundement. And thou oughtest to do this with a pure intention of meere [Page 223] charitie for mine owne sake without a­ny other respect. For there should euer aboūd in thy hart, a most faithfull, fer­uēt & deuout loue of me, which shuld continually flow with forcible streams euery day neerer and neerer towards mee, and it should carrie thee with so great violence, and runne ouer in such exceeding abundance, as it shoulde make thee most readie & desirous to doo all thinges, that may bee for my glory, & for the fulfilling of my plea­sure, and it shuld possesse thee in such sort, as thou shuldest desire nothing so much, as to bee clearely deliuered, quite discharged, and altogether wea­ned from all loue, respect, desire, or inclination towards thy selfe, or anie of my creatures, and to keepe thy selfe in the same state, pure, cleane, chaste, and vnspotted to me only, de­siring me with a pure intention, and no other thing but by this meane I may haue my will, without any impedimēt freely, and wholie fulfilled in thee, & by thee, and that I onlie may possesse thee, and that there may bee no space [Page 224] or diuision betweene thee and me, but that thou mayest be close vnited vnto me, hauing renounced, and forsaken all loue, both of thy selfe or any other creature. Desire likewise that my will may be done in all things, and with all men, and that all men may know me, loue me, honor me, worship me and serue. Thou wouldest ra­ther choose to suffer tenne deaths (if thou wert a faithfull spouse vnto me) then once to consent to any sinne, al­though it were but vernall. For al­beit it is not like that thou canst long stand in perfection without venial sin, yet thou must not in anie wise willing­lie or of set purpose yeeld to any ve­niall sinne, but thou must euer be fully resolued in thine owne will neuer to sin againe. And thou must fixe and settle this will of thine, in the hope of my grace, and not vppon my confi­dence in thine owne abillitie.

I doo euer please and delight him that loueth me, and all my workes and iudgments seeme sweet & pleasant to to him, and he neuer ceaseth to praise [Page 225] me for them. He that loueth me need not study to find somewhat, for which hee might praise mee, for the loue which hee bareth mee will shew vnto him what may or ought to bee praised in me. And to praise me is no other thing but by louing me, to thinke vp­on me, and by thinking vpon mee, to honour me, and by honouring of me, to wonder at my workes, and by won­dring at my workes, to desire that all men should extoll, magnifie, & loue me. My praise doth lighten his heart which loueth me with a pure affecti­on, it doth reioyce his spirite, it dri­ueth away all heauines from him, and withall it is a safe protection for him, both in prosperitie and aduersitie. Whosoeuer spendeth his time in praysing of mee, it maketh him with all fortitude of minde to contemne all the mischiefe that the subtiltie of man or the diuell can practise against him.

O howe delightfull a thing is it to my Angels, to heare the sweet songes of them which do continually praise [Page 226] mee (although it bee much more de­lightfull vnto them to assist their pure harts, and to help them in setting forth of my praise) for they see men vppon earth do imitate by this meane the or­der of the celestial companies in hea­uen, as though they had receiued here the earnest penny, or els some sensible feeling of eternall happines, which is only a continuall praysing & magnifi­ing of my name. For there is nothing that doth so liuely resemble the state of the blessed happines in the worlde to come, as the cheareful & delightful voice of those which doo praise my name. And touching my selfe, I am of so great Maiestie and omnipotency, as I stand in neede of no praise, and no praise can make mee more glorious then I am already, neither is any crea­ture able to praise and magnifie me as I doo deserue. Wherefore thou oughtest to thinke thy selfe most vn­worthy to praise mee, neuerthelesse, desire yet to praise mee, that thou maiest know, and it may appeare ma­nifest vnto thee, how that all humane [Page 227] praise is nothing in respect of my wor­thines, & how I am farre greater then all the praise that can be giuen me, & howe all creatures when they haue praysed mee as much as they are able, haue done it much inferiour to that I am worthie of, and therefore muste yeeld that they are altogether insuffi­cient to praise mee. And although that I declare vnto thee, how that e­uerie creature must giue this praise to me, yet I would haue thee especially to imprint this lesson in thy minde, that although thou dost endeuour ne­uer so much to praise me, (which thou oughtest at all times to doo with all thy force) yet thou shouldest thinke that thou haddest done nothing at all.

I will tell thee (my daughter) what kinde of praise doth please me: vo­call praise, (although I would haue thee alwaies to vse it, & with thy voice to performe it, whensoeuer thou art commanded by the precept of my Church to say or sing any thing) yet I must needes tell thee, that it dooth please mee so much as that internall [Page 228] praise which consisteth in the spirite. A profound contemplation and per­fect knowledge of thine owne base­nes, a consideration of thine owne weakenes, how thou art of thy selfe meerely nothing, and a modest shame procured by the meane of thy vnwor­thinesse before my Maiestie: It is a most sweete smelling sacrifice, and a most delightfull praise vnto mee, be­cause thou shalt be brought by it with a shamefast kinde of modestie, conti­nuallie to looke into, and to despise in my glorious presence, thine owne vilenes, deformednes, vnthankeful­nes, wretchednes and miserie, and bee also mooued to acknowledge howe thou art of thy selfe meerely nothing, and therefore bee desirous to humble and subiect thy selfe before mee, and euerie one of my creatures, and to be willing, or rather to wish to bee in re­spect of thine owne basenes, contem­ned, and troden vnder of them all. Such a contrite and humbled hart I can neuer despise, yea the sorrowfull groane of such a heart, is as muche [Page 229] sweeter and worthier sacrifice vnto mee, than a huge heape of manye wordes, & a tedious multitude of vo­call praiers only. Moreouer, thou dost then likewise truely and righty praise mee, when I am as acceptable vnto thee, for sending aduersitie as prospe­ritie, and when thou giuest me as ma­ny thankes, and remainest as deuout­ly, and zelously affected towards me in thine owne will for the one as for the other. It is not also the least praise that thou mayest yeeld me to beware of sinne, to take great paines in see­king after vertue, to thirst for the ho­nouring and extolling of thy name, and to seeke only for the fulfilling of my pleasure, and the setting foorth of my glorie. Besides this, it is a much purer kinde of praise, and more accep­table vnto me than any vocall praise, to keepe thy hart vndefiled, pure, and free from all vicious affections, from al slouthfull humors, from all heauines, vnwillingnes, and frowardnes in thy soule, & to cleaue vnto me only in all peace, tranquilitie, and silence of thy [Page 230] spirite. What motion soeuer thou feelest within thee (my Daughter) what outward accident soeuer do hap­pen vnto thee, presently repaire vnto mee with thy heart wholy conuerted and submitted vnto my will, and wish that it may be turned by my grace to my greatest glorie, and highest praise. by doing after this sort all thinges that happen vnto thee shall be for the fur­therance of thy saluation, and euen nature it self by this vertuous custome shall be chaunged into grace. Wher­fore if thou findest within thy selfe a­ny mischieuous, attempts of the diuel, any filthie temptations or horrible blasphemies, or doost senciblie per­ceaue in thy soule, the motion of any odious temptation whatsoeuer: ende­uour thou to winne some profit or be­nifit to thy soule by the same meane, whereby thine enemie seeketh to doo thee a mischiefe, & account it a bene­fit for thy soule, if it may bring thee to praise, & glorifie me. As soone therfore as thou feelest any of these temptati­ons, come presently vnto me, and say;

[Page 231] O Lord my God, as often as I feele this temptation, as often as it com­meth into my minde, so often doo I glorifie thee, with the praises of the whole court of heauen, and so often doo I adore thee, to the confusion of this wicked spirit which assaulteth me, and to the honour and glory of thy name. And in this place I offer vn­to thee infinite praises which he is not able to doo. If it be a grieuous temp­tation which thou feelest, say: O most mercifull God, although it bee very troublesome which I suffer, yet I will willingly endure it for the loue of thee only, and for thy honour, and if it may be to thy great honour that I shoulde suffer greater and more grie­uous temptations than this is, beholde I offer my selfe ready with all my hart to doo it. Let nothing O mercifull God, seeme so troublesome vnto me, but that I may desire aboue all things, to sustaine any thing that may bee for the glory of thy name. If thou fee­lest any cogitatiō in thy soule of beau­tifull, delightfull, or precious thinges, [Page 232] say: O most sweet God, that procee­deth from thee which art most good­ly, most beautifull, most sweet, most to be desired, and most worthie to be embraced, because thou art the grea­test good, if it be thy pleasure. I will willingly want all thy creatures▪ I will willingly forsake all consolation, that thou only mayest remaine in my hart, and mayest wholy possesse me: which art most beautifull, and farre more beautifull than all the fayrest thinges beside thee, which art most sweete, & farre more sweete than all the best & sweetest thinges besides thee, which art most to be desired, and aboue all to be beloued, because thou art farre more amiable, and precious, than all the preciousest and amiablest thinges besides thee. Likewise if eyther thou hearest or seest any number assemb­led together, or as often as thou be­holdest anie exceeding beautifull thing or great multitude of people, say so often in the day to thy selfe. O most good and most amiable Lord, O Almightie & eternall God, let thou­sand [Page 233] thousandes of the Armies of ce­lestiall spirits praise thee out of mee, and let ten thousand hundred thou­sand of those that stand before thee, extoll and magnifie thy name out of me and for me, and let all the worthy supplicatiōs of thy blessed Saints make intercession vnto thee for mee, and let the beautie of euerie one of thy crea­tures, and the sweet harmonie of them altogether glorifie thee out of me for euer, and world without end.

Of the exercise of the loue and praise of God.

IF thou dost desire to loue and praise me with all thy heart, with all thy soule, with all thy force, and with all the abilitie that doth rest in thee, and desirest to perseuer in the louing of me, to the end, thou must of necessi­tie haue some exercises of loue, wher­by thou mayest nourish it, kindle it, encrease, and maintaine it. And for this cause keeps thy minde free, with­drawne, weaned, & clearely deliuered from the loue of my creatures, and [Page 234] from all internall occupation of thy minde, or busines about them, and from all care and trouble of this pre­sent world, by lifting it vp vnto mee with continuall vehement, and scal­ding sighes, and enflamed praiers, bur­ning with all zeale, and by aspyring, in­cessantly with most feruent desire to come vnto me, that is to say: by desi­ring to loue me most ardently, most perfectly, most vehemently, most faithfullie, and withall continually, yea, and thirsting also to please me, in all respects, to praise me with al zeale, with all fidelitie, and withall the suffi­ciencie that is in thy power, and to ful­fill my will absolutely & perfectly in all things. To conclude, thou must al­waies haue a desire to see mee which am most beautiful, to possesse me, who am most blessed, and to bee with mee who am onlie able to graunt thee hap­pines, being the fountaine from whom all felicitie doth proceede, in whome all sweetnesse dooth consist, and by whome all goodnesse must bee graunted. For I am of all thinges the [Page 235] sweetest, the best and the happiest, yea true happines it selfe. Cleaue ther­fore alwaies vnto me, and bee neuer seperated from me. Haue euer some­what in thy minde which thou maiest meditate vppon, and which may en­flame thee with the loue of me, wher­by thou mayest thinke of my sweet­nes and goodnes, and by wondring at it, magnifie and praise thy name. Or els on the contrarie part, meditate vp­on somewhat, which may mooue thee to bewaile, lament accuse, and repre­hend thy selfe for thy vilenes, base­nes, weaknes, infirmitie, inconstancie, or vnthankfulnes, or els that may pro­cure the suffering euen with sorrow in thy soule from the bottome of thy hart with those that bee afflicted and dead, to make supplications vnto mee for them, & for my vniuersall Chnrch. Moreouer whatsoeuer thou art to do, or what thing soeuer thou haste to thinke or consider of, thinke of them first with me, receiue counsaile, touch­ing them first from me, and discourse of them first with me, that thou may­est [Page 236] be brought by this custome alwaies, and at all times, (whether thou beest alone, or in the company of others) to talke with me, and to keepe thy hart still lifted vp vnto me, eyther by pray­er, or els by praysing of my name.

Doo whatsoeuer belongeth to my honour, whatsoeuer thou knowest wil content mee, or is my will that thou shouldest performe, with an vnspeak­able thirst to please mee, and with an insatiable desire to honour me, & la­bour this by all the meanes thou may­est, and endeuour with thy help, with thy counsaile, with thy trauaile, & by all the other meanes that do lie in thy power to aduance my glorie, that my name may be praised both by thy self and others, and that my will may bee fullfiled in all my creatures. But in the meane time not withstanding, while thy outward man is thus occupi­ed abroad, let thy inward man remain quietly with me, for thou must in no wise giue thy selfe so much to exter­nall businesses, as that thy mind shuld be distracted, & rnnne wandring after [Page 237] sundry cogitations, and that thou shouldest draw by this meane into thy soule, many fond imaginations, and vaine fancies. But rather whilst thy outward man is busied, be thou recol­lected in thy spirit, and gathered close together in thy soule, that it beeing v­nited vnto me, thou mayest euer eter­nallie remaine with me. And when thou haste learned this lesson, when thou hast accustomed thy selfe to this course, no externall businesse shall hinder thee, no externall act shal hurt or withholde thee, (especially if it bee a good and modest one) from the mē ­tall exercise of the loue of mee. But thou shalt speake vnto me, or rather be in thy soule peaceablye vnited vnto mee, as well at that time, as at any o­ther, so long as thou dost n [...] (as I haue saide) intangle thy minde with think­ing of vaine and transitorie thinges, nor remaynest drowned in the cogita­tions of those externall businesses which thou practisest in this worlde. For as long as thou hast a will to keep thy hart free from the loue of al crea­tures, [Page 238] there is no creature can winne or withdrawe thee from me, (although in thy outward man thou be troubled with neuer so many businesses, nor oc­cupied with neuer so manie actions) if thou imprintest not the formes, the representations, the loue or delight of these thinges internally in thy minde. Wherefore neuer complaine that ex­ternall good workes are an impedi­ment vnto thee in thy louing of mee, or in the exercise of thy loue towards me. For these thinges doo not hin­der thee (as thou dost imagine, & con­ceiue in thy minde) but thy inordinate affection, thy want of discretion, thy infirmitie, and thy euill inclination, are those thinges which doo hinder thee, because thou haste not as yet ful­ly mortefied thē al, for these do make thee not onlie, outwardly but also in­wardly busied and occupied with thinking of my creatures.

Moreouer, thy minde being more and more distracted, deuided, and made more wandring, by the multi­tude of these conceits: is farre from [Page 239] being able to cleaue vnto me, nay it can not continue constant or quiet within it selfe. But be notwithstand­ing no whi [...] discouraged, if in respecte of brotherly charitie, or of shewing thine obedience, thou beest enforced sometime to be occupied, & disquie­ted in thyrie inward man for my sake. For I cannot quickly amend wherein soeuer thou baste saulted for my sake, and repaire it againe with such aduan­tage and gaine vnto thee, that thou shalt be afterwards so much the nerer and with greater delight vnited vnto mee, as thou diddest thinke thy selfe before farther estranged from me. But if thou finde thy minde so much di­stracted and alienated from mee, as thou canst neither recollect it againe, not yet returne and lift it vp vnto me, thinke not that it wandred thus in re­spect of that charite, which thou did­est shewe meerely for my sake: but that thine owne wicked inclination hath poluted thee, and that there was somewhat hidden within thee, which mooued thee to this, whereof I was [Page 240] neither the Author, nor occasion, nei­ther yet was it any way procured by my meane. Thou wert not belike circumspect and watchfull enough, & therefore thou diddest suffer some humane infirmitie. But remaine not long estranged or alienated from me, for I am alwaies readie to receiue thee againe into my fauour. Let thy mind therefore be euer occupied in holy de­sires, that no moment may passe thee, wherein thou dost not wound mee, & seeke to pearce my hart, with the fie­rie darts of thy inflamed desires. Bee assured (my Daughter) that thou canst desire nothing at my handes in vaine: For if thou dost desire mee, thou shalt finde mee, but if I doo withdrawe and hide my selfe from thee for a time, I doo it for thy sake and thy benefit. For I cannot choose, but graunt my pre­sence to those that call vpon mee and desire mee: I doo stirre vp these de­sires in thee, I inspire thy hart with these motions, and therefore bee sure that I will also harken to thy petitions and heare thy praiers. For although [Page 241] it shoulde so fall out by the meane of my prouidence, as thou shouldest re­maine vnheard of mee to the houre of thy death, yet it is vnpossible that I should not at all heare a deuout praier, but I will euen at that instant render thee an hundred fold for thy long for­bearing. Thou shalt then perceiue that I will giue thee for one petition a thousand: Thou shalt then finde that thou art heard at my hands, when thou canst neuer againe loose the be­nefite thereof. But in all thy praiers, let this be thy chiefest petition, to de­sire at my hands, that thou maiest pos­sesse mee: For what is more holy? what is more for my glory, than to de­sire mee aboue all thinges, and before all things? Pray therefore alwaies for a naked, and only a pure, a most chaste a most perfect, a most earnest, a most watchfull, and a most faithfull charitie towards mee, whereby both thy selfe and all other reasonable creatures may cleaue vnto me with a resolute minde and with such a firme intention, as no accident whatsoeuer shall be euer able [Page 242] to withdraw you from me.

Of the transformation of a man.

IF thou wilt obtaine mee wholly (O soule) thou must of necessitie altogether forsake thy selfe, and alto­gether cast off thy selfe; thou must submitte, and resigne ouer thy selfe to extreame pouertie, and the want of all temporall commodities and con­solations, for obtaining of mee, who am the chiefest and greatest good. Comfort thy selfe therefore, and bee not dismaid though thou be depriued of all humaine consolation, and thogh thou want all humaine friendship, fa­uour and succour whatsoeuer. Consi­der how a stout Souldier, not regard­ing his friendes, his Countrie, his wife, his children, his quiet rest, & his com­moditie at home, doth forsake them all, and beeing a stranger in a forraine land, doth there daily offer his life to dangerous labours, to painefull iour­neyes, to continuall watching, and to sundrie miseries and perrils, that hee [Page 243] may obtaine riches, and winne honor. In this sorte must thou forsaking all things, be spoiled and made poore, & depriued of all comfort, and of all my creatures whatsoeuer, that nothing may remaine in thee, wherein thou maiest finde any quiete, or that thou maiest possesse but me onely. More­ouer, thou must exclude and bannish from thy selfe the formes, impressions, and memorie of all thinges, and thou must cleanse and purge thy minde of them all, and carrie about with thee, the image of mee onely imprinted in thy hart, wheresoeuer thou becom­mest, and how so euer thou art, either alone by thy selfe, or in companie of others: Thou must also whether thou eatest or drinkest, sleepest or wakest, speakest or be silent, alwaies looke in­to mee, as a pure glasse and most per­fect patterne for thee to imitate, that thou maiest direct thy course of life & transforme thy selfe according to the vertues and manner of my life: If thou eatest, dippe euery morsel in my woundes: If thou drinkest, take the [Page 244] warme blood out of my woundes, which will breath charitie into thee: If thou speakest, looke vpon mee which heareth thy wordes, aud beware that thou speakest nothing that is vncome­ly or may displease mee: If thou hol­dest thy peace, harken vnto me which do speake to thee, and search out with all dilligence and care what is my per­fect will and good pleasure: If thou sleepest, leane and repose thy selfe vp­pon my hart, applying thy mouth to the gaping wound of my sacred hart, and sucke my grace thereby into thy spirite, and breath againe into mee, by sending a sweete smelling sacrifice out of it, the marrow and precious treasure of thy hart: To bee short, wheresoe­uer thou bee, gouerne and direct thy selfe according to that most notable, most worthy, and most perfect pat­terne, which thou beholdest in the course of my life. Looke into and de­sire earnestlie, with all zeale and affe­ction to imitate my most modest, and most lowlie humilitie, my most curte­ous affabilitie, my most sweete meeke­nes [Page 245] my most stout patience, my most pure chastitie, my most abou [...]dant pi­etie, my most faithfull prouidence, my most mercifull compassion, and my most seruent burning, exceeding and incomprehensible charitie. Imprint the liuely Image of these things in thy soule, fill thy minde wholly with it, & by the meanes thereof, bannish alto­gether from thy minde all the formes and imaginations of all other thinges whatsoeuer: I will not haue thee to bee without the impression or the re­presentation of some thing in thy hart, neither yet will I haue thee seeke be­fore thy time to flie higher than this. Wherefore rest thou quietly in the meane space, in beholding the Image of my humanitie and Passion, vntill I doo raise thee vp to a higher dignitie, where thou shalt not feele these moti­ons, but bee wholly and clearely deli­uered from any impression or imagi­nation, and bee free from all exercise and action, and remaine in all peace & quietnes, hauing cleane forsaken thy selfe, and thine owne appetite: In the [Page 246] meane time therefore meditate how I am alwaies present with thee, and how I doo looke and pearce into the close corners of thy soule, and into the dee­pest secretes of thy hart, and doo not onely meditate vpon it, but learne also to haue a sensible feeling of my pre­sence, whereby I doo alwaies beholde thee, alwaies marke thee, alwaies look into thee, and alwaies both fully know thee, and perfectly vnderstande thy greatest secretes. Learne to conceiue howe I am without all limitation, not possible to be circumscribed within a­ny bounds, how I am an vnchangeable an eternall, an vnspeakeable, and an incomprehensible light, howe I am best worthie to bee beloued, howe I onely deserue to be desired, and how I am whollie pure and sinsere, not stai­ned with the least euill, or smallest im­perfection: Likewise, how I am whol­lie good, in whom there is nothing but it is to be beloued, and able to delight all that seeke mee, howe I am whollie most faithfull, whollie most mercifull, and alwaies ready most aboundantlie [Page 247] to communicate my selfe with the children of men. To conclude, learne to know how I am a most constant & faithfull louer, a most sweete comfor­ter, a most mightie Protector, and a most rich and bountifull rewarder of all those that beare me good will, of all those that loue me, and of all those that hope in me, and how I am able to bring more delight vnto their soule, then all other things that can bee desi­red. For I neuer procure lothso [...]nes in them, but I satisfie all their desire [...] and by satisfiyng them I daily more & more encrease their desires in them. Let this perfect Image of me, wholly possesse thy minde, and imprint it so deepely therein, that thou maiest not consent in thy will, to the meditation of any other fancies, but presently ba­nish them from thee as soone as they begin to enter into thee. Take heed that thou doo not receiue them with­in thy soule, but being free from them remaine vnited to me onely, in all in­ternall quietnesse, and in all internall peace and tranquillitie, waiting for me [Page 248] continually most desirously, and with­out ceasing, that thou maiest repose thy selfe in all things vppon mee, that thou maiest follow mee, and that thou maiest submit thy selfe vnto any thing whatsoeuer, that I will haue thee ey­ther to doo or suffer, yea vnto what­soeuer I wil haue done in thee, or with thee. Thou oughtest so clearely to renounce thy selfe, that is, all loue of thy selfe, and all proper inclination to follow thine own will, as that nothing may be able to mooue thy reasonable and intellectuall soule, beeing now as it were) quite alienated and seperated from thy body, and that it may seeme all one vnto her, whether her exter­nall and sensible man bee praised or discommended, be afflicted or com­forted, and that she may looke vpon him (as it were) a farre off, beeing cleane deuided from him, and wholy vnited and ioyned vnto me.

To obtaine this seperation of thy selfe from the following of thine own appetite, and the loue of any creature, thou must of necessitie (as I warned [Page 249] thee before) haue great watch ouer thy selfe, and straightly obserue by what meane thou mayest soonest find out and discerne what lieth hidden in thy secret thoughts, what mooueth thee, what draweth thee, what enti­seth thee, what possesseth thee, what raigneth in thee, to conclude what thou louest, or inclinest thy selfe vnto, whether it bee thy selfe, or any other creature, or me. And thou must thrust presently out of thy minde whatsoe­uer thou findest there, if it be not my selfe, or any thing whereof I am not the cause: for thou art then become subiect to the thing which possesseth thee, when it hath gotten a full inte­rest and propriety in thee. And I for mine owne part will neuer consent to be beloued with a companion, but I look for my whole loue, & I desire to remaine alone peaceablie in thee. Therfore except thou seekest me on­ly, thou shalt neuer perfectly find me, & if thou wilt enioy me, banish al cre­tures from thee, suffer no diuision, no impediment, no seperation to ramaine [Page 250] between thee & me. Let all creatnres be banished from thee, but onely such as are for thy meere & necessarie vse, let them haue no interest or place in thee, let them not possesse thy hart, that thou mayest keepe thy selfe free and pure vnto mee from them all, and maiest wholy submit thy selfe vn­to me, and be readie to be disposed in all such sorts as it shall be my pleasure. Whatsoeuer shal happen it is enough for thee that thou knowest it, & find­est that it hath happened. Trouble thy selfe no farther with thinking of it, neither suffer it to stay within thee, or to leaue anye memorie or impression thereof in thy soule: But rely vppon me, & commit all thy cares vnto me, passe and flie ouer the multitude, the variety, and the mutabilitie of these cogitations, and neuer fix or settle thy hart but in me only. Seeke therefore mee onelie, and no more but mee in all thinges, which am one in all and all in all, and waite patiently with long suffering till thou findest me, yea, bee content to stay & wait for mee againe, [Page 251] and againe, and neuer bee wearie of waiting till thou findest mee, reposing thy selfe vpon my goodnes, and vpon my most wise prouidence, full of all loue towards thee with a strong faith, and an assured trust therein. When I stay my comming, expect mee pati­ently, for I will come at the last with­out doubt. Bee free and altogether weaned in this sort (O soule) from all thine owne desire, be seperated who­lie from all loue and delights in crea­tures, be alienated from all fancies & imaginations, and cleaue wholy vnto mee, in simplicitie and nakednesse of hart. Offer thy selfe to be possessed by me, and forsake cleane thine owne will, that thou mayest reioyce with me in all eternitie, where there are ney­ther thinges past, nor things to come, but all things present. Aspire alwaies, and earnestly desire to obtaine this e­uen nowe, and forsake both thy selfe and all other thinges, that is thy body, and sensualitie, and haue thine eye so fixed vppon eternitie in this present world, as if thou wert quite seperated [Page 252] from it, and clearely deliuered out of it, beholding all the thinges in this world a far off, as those thinges which thou hast wholy forsaken, and from which thou hast clearely weaned thy selfe. Thinke that thou art alone with me, and that I am with thee, and as if there were no other creature present with thee.

Whatsoeuer thou feelest besides me, make no account of it, because it is in truth nothing worth being with­out mee, and no creature shall hurt thee as long as thou receiue not with­in thy hart the fancies and imaginati­ons of any thing, nor yet feele any cares or affections within thy soule.