An EXTRACT of the LIFE of
Monsieur DE RENTY,
A late Nobleman of France.
CHAPTER I.
Of his birth, marriage, and general way of life.
1.MR. De Renty descended from one of the most noble houses of Artois. He was the only son of Charles De Renty, and was born in the year 1611, at Beny in Low Normandy. There he was brought up till six or seven years of age, and then by his mother carried to Paris, where he lived with her about two years, till he was put into the college of Navarre; whence he was sent to Caen, till at seventeen he was removed to an academy, or school of genteel exercises at Paris. He was soon accomplished in all the exercises there taught: But what then pleased him most was, the mathematics. For these he slighted all sorts of diversions, till he understood them perfectly, and composed some books therein.
2. About this time a stationer whom he used, presented him with Kempis of the imitation of Christ; and some time after pressed him to read it, which he had no sooner done, than he felt new thoughts and affections, and resolved seriously to pursue the one thing needful, the working out his salvation. And ever after he so esteemed that book, that he always carried it about him, and made use of it on all occasions.
3. At the age of twenty-two, he married Elizabeth de Balsac, daughter of the Count of Graville, by whom he had five children, four of which (two sons and two daughters) survived him.
4. Having lived to the age of twenty-seven years, it pleased God to touch his heart more closely; and this time he marked as the beginning of his entire change, and perfect consecration to God’s service: in order whereto, he was well convinced of the necessity of a good guide; and God provided him one, such as his need required, a person of deep learning, of great piety, and well-experienced in the directions of souls, who had the conduct of him for twelve years. By his advice he withdrew altogether from court, he renounced all visits of pure compliment, and all unnecessary employments to give himself up to those which might glorify God, and help his neighbour.
5. Every day before dinner, and again in the evening, he made an exact search into his smallest faults. He communicated three or four times a week, having ever an incredible esteem of the holy Eucharist, blessing and praising God for its institution, and exciting all men to do the same. He was used to say, “That the great design of God in the incarnation, life, death, and resurrection of his Son, was to convey to us his Spirit, to be unto us life eternal. And in order to cause us to die to ourselves, and live thereby, he gave him to us in this holy sacrament, and with him all the blessings of grace, to dispose us for those of glory.”
6. One day in a week he visited the poor sick people of the great hospital de Dieu: another those of his own parish; a third the prisoners; and in the rest he used to meet at assemblies of piety. He assembled his own family every evening to prayers, and discoursed to them every Saturday on the gospel for the next day. And of his children he took more special care, to engrave deeply in them the fear of God, and to convince them that the customs and maxims of the world were utterly irreconcilable to the gospel of Christ.
7. The order he kept in his journies was this: in the morning, before setting out, they joined in prayer; after setting out, the first thing done was, the saying the itinerarium; next was, the ♦singing the litanies of our Lord; then followed some meditation, and after that a part of the divine office. This being done he entertained the company with some good discourse. Beholding the spacious extent of the country, he would speak of the immensity of God. Upon the presenting of any beautiful object, he would discourse of the beauty of God, and in so lively a manner as to touch the very heart. Approaching near the place where they were to dine, he began his self-examination: and being come thither, as soon as out of his coach, he went to the church, and next, if there were any in the place, to the hospital. Being at his inn, the first thing he did in his chamber was, to cast himself on his knees, and to pray with great affection for all persons that entered that place, and for pardon of all disorders that had been there committed. If he saw any thing offensive written on the walls or chimneys, he defaced it, and in the place wrote something of instruction. And always before his departure he endeavoured to give some good advice to the servants of the house, or to such poor as he could meet with, that so he might not pass through any place without doing some good there. After dinner, when in his coach again, he took a little time for recollection, then sung the Vespers; which done, he wished the company to use some useful conversation. About four they sung the evening psalms; afterward he applied himself to mental prayer; and being come to his inn, his exercises were the same with those of the morning.
*8. A fuller account of his general way of life he writ to his second director, as follows:
“I have delayed some days after the command I had, to set down the employing of my time, for the better discovering of some things therein; but I find nothing there of strict order because all consists in following the order of God, which causes in a manner continually different things, though all upon the same foundation.
“For my outward behaviour, I usually rise at five (that is, after part of the night spent in prayer.) At my awakening, I consider myself as nothing, before the majesty of God. I unite me to his Son and Spirit. Being risen, I cast myself down, and adore the blessing of the incarnation, which gives us access to God; and deliver up myself to the Holy Jesus, to be entered into his Spirit.
“Being cloathed, I go into the chapel, where I cast myself down, and adore God, abasing me before him, and making me the most little, most naked, most empty of myself that I can; and I hold me there by faith, having recourse to his Son and to his Holy Spirit, that whatsoever is his pleasure may be done by me.
“Between six and seven I read two chapters of the New Testament bare-headed and on my knees. I then give place to my affairs; but if there be no business urgent, I prostrate myself before God till I go to church. There I stay till half an hour past eleven, except when we dine some poor people, then I return at eleven. Before dinner I examine myself, and use some prayers for the Church, and for the propagation of the faith. I dine at twelve, and in the while have something read. Half an hour past twelve I spend an hour with them that have business with me. Then I go out whither the order of God shall direct. Some days are assigned for certain exercises; others are not. But be it as it will, I endeavour to spend about evening an hour in devotion. About seven, after I have used some prayers, we go to supper. After supper I instruct my children. At nine are family prayers, after which I meditate till ten; and then going to my chamber, and recommending myself to my God, after some short prayers, I endeavour to repose.
*“As to the order of my interior, I have not (as I may say) any; for since I left my Breviary, all my forms have left me; and now instead of serving me as means to go to God, they would only be hindrances. I bear in me ordinarily an experimental verity, and a plenitude of the ♦presence of the most Holy Trinity, which elevates me to a simple view of God; and with that I do all that his providence enjoins me, not regarding any thing for their greatness or littleness, but only the order of God, and the glory they may render him.
“For the things done in community, I often cannot rest there: I perform indeed the exterior for the keeping of order; but follow always my interior, because when a man hath God, there is no need to search for him elsewhere. And when he holds us in one manner, it is not for us to take hold of him in another, and the soul knows well what unites it and what multiplies and directs it.
“For the interior therefore, I follow his attractive; and for the exterior I see the divine will, which I follow, with the discernment of his spirit, in all simplicity; and so I possess by his grace, in all things, silence of spirit, a profound reverence, and solid peace. I communicate almost every day, perceiving myself strongly drawn thereto. *I continually give up myself to God through Jesus Christ, worshipping him in spirit and in truth, loving him with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my mind, and with all my strength, and seeing in all things the conduct of God, and adorning and following it. And this only abiding in my soul, all things else are defaced and blotted out. I have nothing of sensible in me, unless now and then some transitory touches: But, if any dare to say it, when I sound my will, I find it so quick and flaming, that it would devour me, if the same Lord who animates it (though unworthy) did not restrain it. I enter into a heat and into fire, and even to my fingers ends, feel that all within me speaks for its God, and stretcheth itself forth in length and breadth in his immensity, that it may there dissolve and there lose itself to glorify him.”
CHAPTER II.
His Humility.
1.ST. Austin well observes, That poverty of spirit is nothing else but humility: The truly humble knowing themselves to be nothing of themselves but sin and misery, to have nothing, as being at best but manifold receivers of the grace of God; to be able to do nothing, having no power of themselves even to think a good thought, and to deserve nothing but shame and contempt, but misery and punishment. And they are willing, yea desirous, that all others should think of them as they do of themselves.
2. M. de Renty being well convinc’d that this is the foundation of all virtue, and that it was the proper virtue of Jesus Christ, whom he had proposed to himself as his pattern in all things, embraced it with his whole affection, gave himself up to it with all his force, and practised it in its utmost latitude.
3. He had so low an opinion of himself, as it would be a difficult thing to express. The greatness of God, whenever he considered it, humbled him to an immeasurable depth; “A mote, said he, in the sun is very little, but I am far less in the presence of God, I am nothing.” But correcting himself, he added, “Alas I am too much; I am a sinner, an anathema through my crimes.” To the same person he wrote, “Methinks I break myself in pieces before God: that I am spoken of, that I have so much as a name is a strange thing.” I have seen him very often (says one that knew him well) humble himself, as it were to the centre of the earth, while he spoke to me of God; saying, “It was not for such a one as him to speak of him, but that he ought rather to contain himself in silence.”
*4. This exceeding low opinion he had of himself, made him more than once say, with tears in his eyes, “That he was much astonished at the goodness of men in suffering of him, and that he could not enough wonder, why every where they threw not dirt at him, and that all the creatures did not bandy against him.” And he was persuaded, it was much boldness in him to speak, and that men shewed great patience in enduring his conversation.
5. Nor was there any thing which did not serve to increase his humility. He abased himself much in the consideration of the weakness of our nature, of which as he exprest it, “It is important that a man have experience, that he neither forget himself, nor the place he ought to hold: that no flesh may glory in his sight; that being abased and rendered as a thing that is not at all, Jesus Christ may be in him, the life of grace and holiness, waiting for the time of our redemption.”
6. But much was he humbled by the consideration of his past sins; In one of his letters to his director, he writes thus, “my faults are as one great heap, which I feel in myself, obstructing the light from God. I am strangely remiss and ungrateful, I find much in myself to confound and humble me.” In another, “I am sensible of my fault, in mentioning, that I had placed a servant in such a family. I had a motion within me, not to have spoken it; and yet it escaped from me: of which I am exceeding sensible. I should have been more faithful to the Spirit of God.” And in another, “I am as blind (or rather more) in seeing my faults as in other things. Only in general, I have a deep sense of my misery: And I can say, I am not ignorant of my unworthiness, and the deplorable corruption sin hath wrought in me. But lately I mentioned the faults of a certain person to another that knew of them before, to make him understand that he was in a better condition. But my conscience reproached me, that I might have done this without: and I confess I meddled too much in that affair. In sum, I am a straggler from God, and a ground over run with thorns.”
7. He drew yet further matter of humiliation from his rank and condition, and the secular advantages which it gave him. He not only despised, but was ashamed of them; often groaning before the majesty of God, and saying, “He was in the lowest condition according to the Spirit of Jesus Christ, and that he had great confusion to see himself in that estate.” Hence it was, that he solemnly renounced his nobility, and gave it into the hands of our Lord; that he did not love even for any one to call him Monsieur, and that he wholly declined the title of Marquiss (which was proper to his house) and suffered only that of Baron of Renty.
8. Even the gifts and graces of God made him more humble; thus producing their true effect, which is, to abase and elevate the soul both together, to raise it to God, and abase it to itself. In whatever good was done by him he assumed no share at all, but referred all to God the true source. And so in the management of all those talents, he had always his hands clean, without touching what appertaineth to God. Nor would he therefore that any one should consider him in what he said or did, but regard God alone therein. And to one who much desired a visit from him, he wrote thus, “I cannot bear the account you make of my visits and society. Let us look much upon God; let us bind ourselves strictly to Jesus Christ, that we may learn of him fully to renounce ourselves. O, my God, when will it be that we shall eye ourselves no more, when we shall speak no more of ourselves, and when all vanity shall be destroyed!”
9. He likewise esteemed himself most unworthy of any of the grace or favours of God. Of which he says to a friend, “The gifts of God are sometimes so great, that they put us beyond ourselves. As among men if a poor man receives a gift from a prince, according to the grandeur of his own power, he is utterly overwhelmed, and can find no words to express his acknowledgment: So God gives blessings that go beyond our expectations or capacities, and which make us see how unworthy we are, without daring to lift up our eyes; so doth their brightness dazzle, and their greatness astonish us.”
10. The same opinion which he had of himself he was willing, yea desirous that others likewise should have of him. “If I were to wish any thing, said he, it should be, to be much humbled, and to be treated as an off-scouring by men.” And hence he received contempt, when it came, not with patience only, but with joy: of which he gave an evident proof in his first journey to Dijon, whence he thus wrote to his director;
“The reports here spread concerning me are, that I have nothing but artifice and shews of devotion; and that I kept private, out of fear by coming abroad of discovering what I was. Most, I find, even of those from whom I expected quite the contrary, have sollicited against me. And hereby God hath shewn me many favours. I have been with them, and received humiliation with great joy. I have been very wary of opening myself in any thing that might recommend me to them. I have only done in my business what truth required; and for any thing else, I have made it matter of confusion, as I ought. I shall be here, I believe as one excommunicate, as the scape-goat of the old law, driven out into the wilderness for my enormous sins. I desire only to love God, and condemn myself.”
11. Nor was it only in his words but in his actions also, that the humility of his heart appeared. Since his entire dedication of himself to God, he would not suffer a cushion to be carried to church for him; but to be there hid and disregarded, he often mingled himself among mechanics and mean persons. He kept himself always as much as he could at the lower end of the church; and frequently, if the door was shut, said his prayers on the outside of it, that he “might not, as he said, put any to the trouble of opening it to a poor sinner.”
*12. During the war at Paris, he went himself to buy bread for the poor, and carried through the streets as much as his strength would permit. At the same time offering to take into his care the church plate of a monastery, he pressed them to let him carry it to his lodging, (which was two miles thence) and on foot as he was, a very large and weighty piece. And being desired that when he did them the favour to visit them again, he would come in his coach, by reason of the distance; he answered, “he did not love to make use of a coach, he must endeavour to make himself in every thing very little.” He went therefore thither on foot, and returned at five or six, in the shortest days, sometimes in thawing weather. And being told of the pains he took, he replied, “Our Lord took pains in a far other manner.”
13. When he was assisting with his own hand in the repairing of one of his houses, he thus expressed himself:
“Blessed for ever be our great God, by Jesus Christ! I believe I ought to labour in the lowest employments; and the time I spend therein, I count very dear, regarding it as ordered by God. What makes me the more to know it is his order, is this; that from time to time I feel more of retribution from him in one instant, than the patience and humiliation of a sinner could merit in all his life. He so opens himself to me, that I am quite mollified, and melted into tears. My eyes are so full of them, that often I have much ado to keep them in, pierced as I am with love, with reverence, and with acknowledgment of his goodness manifested by his enlightning presence, and of his inexplicable conduct. I see, we are not, by a spirit of pride, under pretence of the glory of God, to dispense with ourselves from labouring in things mean and painful. It was a work very gross and mean for Jesus Christ to converse with men, who had more of rudeness than these stones I deal with. O that I may obtain a part in his obedience, and submission to the orders of God his Father.”
14. Being one day to go to a person of great quality, in a business that much concerned the glory of God, he would not use his coach, tho’ he was to traverse in a manner all Paris, and it poured down rain. One moved, that at least his footman might carry a cloak, which he might take when he came thither. But he yielded not. Only he consented to throw the cloak over him: and in the nobleman’s house he laid aside the wet cloak, and appeared in the other ordinary one of his own.
15. Behold another effect of his humility, of which he writ to his director, December 26, 1646.
“The other day my Lord Chancellor’s lady sent me a packet of letters, in which were some from the king, wherein I was made counsellor of state. I sent her word, that I received what had the mark of the king with all respect. But I most humbly begged she would be pleased to take it in good part, if I did not accept those letters, but desired that the business might sleep without noise. My disposition towards affairs of this nature is, to have nothing at all to do with them. If they come upon me perforce, without my seeking, our Lord will give me strength to bear them.”
16. To the same person on another occasion, he wrote as follows:
“Walking one day through the streets of Paris, in a mean dress, I deeply reflected on that of the apostle, We are become as the filth and off-scowering of the world. I considered how much neatness and new things, even in the most trifling instances, do hurt (if one take not good heed) the simplicity and lowliness of a Christian spirit. And I saw it was a great temptation for any, to think to preserve his outward grandeur, in hopes thereby to have more weight and authority for the service of God. This is a pretence, indeed, that the infirmity of most Christians makes use of in the beginning: but experience draws them at last to Jesus Christ, who was made the lowest of men.”
17. A further proof of his humility, was his carriage to the director. He did nothing that concerned himself, without his conduct: to him he proposed whatever he designed, either by speaking or writing, clearly and punctually, desiring “his advice, his pleasure, and blessing upon it;” and that with the utmost respect and submission: and without reply or disputing, he simply and exactly followed his order. His director having written to him, he answered in these terms; “I beseech you to believe, that although I am most imperfect and a great sinner, yet if you do me the favour to send me a word of what you know to be necessary for me, I hope with God’s help to profit thereby. I pant not after any thing but to find God and Jesus Christ, in simplicity and truth. I pretend to nothing in this world but this; and beside this I desire nothing.”
18. The last effect of his humility we shall mention, was his extreme contempt of the world. He despised all which it could give or promise; all its goods, pleasures, honours, dignities; counted all its allurements as dung and dross, trampled under foot all its glories. He beheld for this end our Lord for his pattern, who, from his very first entrance into it, made an open profession of an absolute contempt of it, “Because he was not of the world.”
*19. To animate a lady with the same spirit, he wrote to her thus: “I wonder how a thing so little as man, drawn out of nothing in his original, infected with his first parent’s sin, and the addition of his own: when he is raised to so high a degree of honour, as to be one with Christ the Son of God; can continue to esteem the world, or make any account of its vanities! Shall the things of the earth waste the little time we have to secure the treasures of heaven; things that will all pass away like a dream: as we see our fathers are gone already, and there is no more remembrance of them: their joys and griefs, their pleasures and pains, are they not all vanished away? And are we not sure they were out of their senses, if they considered any thing but God in their ways? The same will befall us: Every thing else will pass away, and God alone will abide.”
*The same lady, in another letter, he encourages thus: “Courage, all is well! We must die to the world, and search out the hindrances it brings to our perfection. We must live in the world as not living there; possess it, as not possessing it. Let us drive out of our minds the affection to our fine houses; let us ruin the delights of our gardens; let us burn our groves; let us banish these vain images which we have of our children; approving in them what we condemn in ourselves, the show and glitter of the world.”
*I know there is a difference of conditions; but all ought to reject those intailments on noble blood, (as men account them) those principles of aspiring to the highest, and of bearing nothing. Let us take from them this vanity of mind, this stateliness of behaviour. Let us arm them against the pernicious examples of those grandees in story, whose punishments are as eminent in hell, as their presumption was upon earth.
*“My design is not, that you should demolish your walk, or let your gardens run into a wilderness. The ruins I speak of must be made in our own minds, not executed on things insensible. When I say, we must set all on fire, my thoughts were, to follow that admirable spirit of the apostle, who would that we have poverty amidst our riches, and divestment in the midst of our possessions: he means, that our spirit be thoroughly purified and separated from all creatures; because a Christian does himself great wrong, if he entertains in his heart any other inclinations than those of Jesus Christ, who saw all the world without destroying it, but withal without cleaving to it.”
20. It is to bring us to this spirit, that God permits us to meet so many pains and troubles in the world; as when a man sets thorns in a way, to make men take another. “God has his ends, says M. De Renty, in all these contrarieties, viz. that those who are his, should be yet more his, and despise more and more all that is in the world. By these the confusion and vanity of the world are made known to them that are not of it; who being in the spirit of death, wait for nothing more there but death; bringing forth, in the mean while, the fruits of life eternal.”
CHAPTER III.
His self-denial and mortification.
1.AS it is absolutely necessary for every soldier of Christ, who would not so fight as one that beateth the air, to keep the body under, and bring it into subjection; M. de Renty vigorously applied himself to this work. He made but one meal a day for several years; till he was injoined to take more nourishment, to be the better able to undergo the great labours he undertook for his neighbour. He nevertheless eat but little, and always of the worst. A person who observed him at dinner one day, took notice, all he eat was some pears only, and that with so great seriousness and recollection, that it was easy to discern his mind was on God, and not upon his meat.
*2. When one of his friends entertained him one day at Caen, he was much grieved (as he afterwards declared) that Christians should be feasters; adding, It was a torment to be where there was so much superfluity. Hereon his friends took no more thought about his diet, knowing his best entertainment was the meanest fare, and that they could not oblige him more, than by leaving him to his liberty. And often at Paris, when he was so far from home, that he could not return to dinner, he would step into a baker’s shop, and after a piece of bread and a draught of water, chearfully go on with his business.
3. Nor did he deny himself only with regard to his taste, but to all his other senses also. When he went into the country, and came in the evening to his inn, after having dismissed his servants, he either passed the night in a chair, or lay down in his cloaths and boots, which was his custom till death. And when at Amiens, a lady, in honour of his virtue and quality, had prepared him a rich bed in a stately chamber, he made no use of it, but laid him down upon a bench, and there slept till morning.
4. Being come to ♦Pontois in winter, and lodging at the Carmelite Nuns, he told them not to make a fire, or prepare a bed. He then went to visit the prisoners (which he never forgot) and at his return, about nine in the evening, finding them going to prayers, without taking any thing to eat, he went into the church with them, where he continued till eleven. And indeed at every time and every place, on every occasion, even in the slightest and meanest things, he kept a watchful eye over himself, that he might in no instance fulfil the desires of the flesh, but daily inure himself to endure hardship.
*5. A short description of his mortification, or deadness to the world, we have in his own words. “Since the time I gave up my liberty to God, I was given to understand, to what a state the soul is brought, which is capable of union with him. I saw my soul reduced into a small point, contracted and shrunk up to nothing. At the same time I beheld myself as encompassed with whatsoever the world loves, and as it were, a hand removing all this far from me, and plunging it into the ocean. First, I saw removed all outward things, kingdoms, great offices, stately buildings, rich and elegant furniture, gold and silver, recreations, pleasures: all which hinder the soul in her way to God, of which therefore it is his pleasure she be divested, that she may arrive at that death which will bring her into the possession of real life. Secondly, all inward things, which are of a more delicate and precious nature, as learning, reason, strength of memory and understanding; to which likewise we are in a manner dead, if we are alive to God. And I perceived that we must come like little infants, simple and innocent, separated not only from evil, but even from our ordinary manner of doing what is good. We are to undertake what things the divine providence presents to us, by making our way by God to them, rather than by them to God. A truly mortified soul sees nothing but God: not so much (if I may so speak) as the things she does, of which nothing stays in her, neither choice, nor joy, nor sorrow, for their greatness, or for their littleness, for good or bad success; but only the good pleasure and order of God, which ruleth in all things, and which in all things contents the soul that adheres to him, and not to the vicissitude of affairs, and is therefore constantly even, always the same in the midst of all changes.”
6. As to the particulars of M. de Renty’s mortification, in the first place, he was dead to riches. “I acknowledge before God (says he in a letter to his director) his great mercy to me thro’ his Son, in freeing me from the things of this world, and my constant thoughts are, that if his order did not oblige me to do otherwise, I would quit all that I have.” And to another, “All that can be imagined in this world is of small concern, though it were the losing of all our goods. This poor ant-hill is not worth a serious thought. Had we but a little faith and a little love, how happy should we esteem ourselves in giving away all, to attend on God only.”
*7. Thus entirely, even in the possession of riches, was his heart engaged from them. And when the better part of his estate was in danger of being lost, he said, without the least emotion, “Since God hath committed this estate to me, I will do what shall behove me to preserve it, and then ’tis all one to me what follows.” Yea, he often expressed a kind of holy envy toward the poor, and a high esteem of their condition, both as most advantageous for Christian perfection, and because Christ himself had lived and died therein. “I avow to you, (says he to a friend) the more of riches come to me, the more do I discover of the malignity affixed to them. My heart is strongly inclined to follow him who was the most poor and depressed among all his followers. But that I know I may not put myself into that estate, I should pant after it very much. What I infer from hence is this, that not knowing the counsels of God, I cannot tell how he will dispose of me for the future: but I offer myself up to whatsoever shall please him, knowing that with him I can do all things.”
8. This inward temper appeared in a thousand outward effects. He parted with several books, because richly bound: used no gloves in season; wore no cloaths, but plain and close made; carried no silver about him, but for works of charity. I have seen him at first in his coach, with a page and footman; afterward, in his coach with a footman, without a page; then with his footman only, without his coach; and in fine, without either.
9. And as he was dead to riches, and to all the things of the world, so he was, secondly, to the persons in it: having no affection for any, but what was grounded upon, and subordinate to the love of God. This was particularly observable, with regard to those who were engaged to him by one of the tenderest ties, who depended upon him, and used his counsel for the conduct of their souls. *To one of these he wrote, “I cannot hear without trouble the great matter you make of my conversation: let us breathe after God, and learn from Jesus Christ an entire renunciation of our own affections.” And in another letter thus: “Jesus Christ is ever the same, and his grace is continually advancing; and as long as I am his, I shall be yours for his sake. He is not wont to part souls by the separation of bodies: since his custom is, only to take away what might be a hindrance to the perfect life of the spirit.”
*10. To a friend who had lost his director he wrote thus: “His remove would doubtless be a great loss to you and all the country, if the providence of God did not rather sanctify and establish, than destroy; but by removing these visible supports, he often settles us more firmly in our adherence to him through Christ, where we find all power, and who is so near that he is even in the midst of us; and when our dependence upon creatures is cut off by his providence, we experimentally find, that we are not left destitute, but that supply is made either by the spirit which dwelleth in us, or by his ministers that remain; who the fewer they are, the more is the grace we receive by them multiplied. Nor should we be further engaged to those who assist us in our spiritual conduct, than as to God’s instruments, whose help it is his will we should make use of, but no longer than he pleaseth; and when it is his will to take them from us by death, or otherwise, we ought not to lose our courage, but with submission and gratitude resign all to him, who will again provide for us as seemeth him best.”
11. He was, Thirdly, dead to all desire of every kind. Being one day asked, “How he could be so quiet in such circumstances,” he answered, “That through God’s mercy, he was indifferent to all things, and that he no longer felt either fear or desire of any thing.” And writing to his director, he says, “For the future I could wish, if there be any thing left for me to wish, that I had nothing left me but my God: This is the rich treasure of the heart, the sure replenishment of the soul.”
12. He had no eager desire even of sensible consolations; touching which, he expressed himself thus, “Dryness, and other troubles of spirit, are to be borne with upon any terms, and we must give up ourselves as forlorn creatures, throwing ourselves wholly upon God.” And again, “however dry your soul may be, when you endeavour to place it in a state of reverence and affiance in the presence of God, persevere still as much as you can, and keep yourself shut up in the cabinet of your heart; suffer not the noise of all those tempests without; be still, and mind them not. They have all their use; they serve to purge the soul, and dispose it for the operation of God upon it. Let then distractions, and all sorts of imaginations assault you, as it pleaseth God, but let them not hinder you from that holy exercise; diverting (as you are able) your mind from them, continue your sacrifice, with full assurance you shall not wait long, before your Lord come.” And when he found himself for a time, in such a condition, he would cry out aloud, “I am thine, O God, in spite of all these things, and so I will continue without reserve for ever.” And sometimes he would write with his finger upon the ground, “I am content with every thing that proceeds from the will of God: I ask nothing else but what he appoints for me; I will never trouble myself to be freed from dryness; my resolution is, to bless God at all times.”
*13. Lastly, He was dead to his own will, which he had perfectly resigned, in conformity to the will of God. “Far be it from me, saith he in one of his letters, to act in this by my own spirit; I would have it wholly annihilated, that it might know no other language but nothing, and continually nothing; to follow in all the footsteps of the divine will, according to its measure and manner.” In another thus: “My Saviour hath graciously brought me to such a state of indifferency for every thing that I could be well contented, all my life, to be fix’d to my bed, a paralytic, not able to stir, without making any reflection on any service I might render to my neighbour, or that I could render him no more: all things according to the will of God, being equal to me.” And in a third: “Of late I have been busied in such employments as were sufficient to have overwhelmed so weak a spirit as mine, had it not been absolutely resigned to the will of God. It is on him alone I rest, having renounced myself. I adore the decrees of his sacred will, who holdeth all things in his own hands, to keep us subject unto him by his justice, and to sanctify us by his love: happy, if we have the hearts of children, the spirit of Christ Jesus, to sigh after him, and cry continually, Abba Father.”