Works 1

1. With great courage you indeed departed long ago from your house and from your kindred, and had penetrated even to the great sea that withdraws into the distance; yet by a greater virtue the wilderness was sought again by you. For when you first entered it as a guest, you had a leader and, as it were, a forerunner of your journey, whom afterward you followed as a master of the heavenly warfare; and then, following him and leaving your kinsmen, you were nonetheless following a kinsman; but now, when you reckoned that same man fit to be escorted to the height of the episcopate, the love of the familiar solitude of the wilderness has brought you back. Therefore you are now nobler and greater by your example: for before, when you sought the desert, you seemed even to be accompanied by your brother; now, when you sought the desert again, you have left even your brother behind. And what manner of brother, and how great!

How always cherished by you with reverence of love! How bound to you by a singular affection! So that to his charity you can prefer nothing, save perhaps the love of the wilderness alone! When you set this above him by a just weighing, you proved that you love not him a little, but this something more. You also showed how great was that love of solitude within you, to which even the greatest love would yield. And indeed this love of the wilderness—what is it to be called in you but the love of God! You have therefore kept the order of charity prescribed by the law, by loving first your God, then your neighbor. 2.

Yet as for him, setting out solely upon the contemplation of your advancement—so I conjecture in my mind—I think that he did not oppose your journey and your counsel, but, in an unusual manner between persons bound to one another, he wished, as I suppose, to let you go no less than you wished to depart. For he too loves you greatly in return; yet in his love for you he consults your benefit, and although his charity toward you is most abundant and supreme, nevertheless its height tends toward your profit. 3.

And you, although you long ago, rich in Christ, poured out all your wealth upon the poor of Christ; and although you may surpass others, being young in years but old in character, being also distinguished in talent and distinguished in eloquence—yet I would admire and love nothing in you in the foremost place more than this, that you so longed for the dwelling-place of solitude. Wherefore, since you often ask me to answer more copiously to your most spacious and most eloquent letters, you must, since you are wise, endure my foolishness a little while, as I recall the manifold grace of the Lord toward this very wilderness, beloved of you. Rightly, then, would I call the wilderness the uncircumscribed temple of our God; for of Him whom it is certain dwells in silence, it must be believed that He rejoices in seclusion.

Often He showed Himself there to be seen by His saints, and, with the place fostering the meeting, He did not spurn human encounter; for indeed in the desert Moses beholds God with glorified countenance, in the desert Elijah, fearing to behold God, veils his face; and although He Himself revisits all things as His own and is nowhere absent, yet, as one may reckon, He deigns more particularly to visit the seclusion of the wilderness and of heaven. 4. They relate that someone, when another asked in what kind of place he believed God to be, answered that wherever he might lead him, he should follow him untiringly; then, with that same man accompanying him, he came to the seclusion of the widely-spreading wilderness, and pointing out the recess of the vast solitude, said: 'Behold,' he said, 'where God is.' And not undeservedly is He more readily believed to be there, where He is more easily found. 5.

For even in the beginnings of things, when God was making all things in wisdom and distinguishing each single thing as fitted for future uses, He surely did not leave this part of the earth useless and unhonored, but, creating all things not so much by present magnificence as by foreknowledge of the future, He prepared the wilderness, as I judge, for the saints to come. I believe that He willed it to be rich for them in fruits, and, in place of a more indulgent nature, made this land fruitful of saints, so that thus the bounds of the desert might grow fat, and, when He watered the mountains from His upper chambers, the valleys too might abound with multiplied produce, and He might supply the losses of the place by enriching with an inhabitant a dwelling otherwise barren. 6.

That possessor of paradise and transgressor of the precept, though he dwelt in a place of pleasure, could not keep the law fixed for him by God; for as much as that place was more delightful in its loveliness, so much the more was he here prone to a fall. Whence He subjected not only this man to His laws, but even stretched out that goad of His, death, all the way unto us. Therefore let him dwell in the wilderness who desires life; for the dweller in the pleasant place prepared death. But let us now come to the later examples of the wilderness, ever acceptable to God. 7. Moses, when he had driven his flock to the inner parts of the desert, then saw God afar off, shining in a harmless fire; nor did he only see, but he also heard Him speaking.

Indeed then the Lord, when He admonished him to cast off the bindings of his feet, declared the wilderness's earth holy, saying: 'The place on which you stand is holy ground'; by a manifest judgment He then expressed the merit of a hidden honor. For the holiness of the place was confirmed by God with the holiness also of His testimony, in which, as I think, He likewise and secretly announces this too: that he who approaches the wilderness should loose the steps of his life from the former bonds of cares, and walk freed from his earlier fetters, lest he pollute the place.

There first Moses is made a familiar interpreter of divine converse: he receives words and in turn reports them, things to be said or done, and he both inquires and is taught, and by a mutual and habitual exchange of conversation he holds discourse with the Lord of heaven; there he takes up again the rod mighty in the working of signs, and, having entered the wilderness a shepherd of sheep, he is sent back from the wilderness a shepherd of peoples. 8. What then of the people of God, to be freed from Egypt and absolved from earthly labors—did they not seek the trackless ways and flee to the solitudes, about to draw near to God in the wilderness, by whom they had been delivered from servitude? They were stretching, therefore, toward the desert, terrible in its long desolation, with Moses as their leader. How great is the multitude of Your sweetness, O Lord!

Moses, having entered the wilderness, had seen God; behold, he returns again that he may see. The Lord Himself, clearly the leader of the journey, was leading His people to the deserts, drawing for the travelers, for the use of either time, a pillar now reddening with flame, now gleaming white with cloud. Thus He gave then, to those deserving it, a sign from heaven, which, stretched out in a milky mass, shone with alternating fires. Israel, with eyes intent, followed the ray glowing red with flashing fire from afar, so that the Lord might worthily, for those striving toward the secret places of the wilderness, when He showed the way, hold forth the light. 9.

Did not the barriers of the impassable sea, set in the way of this same people as it pressed toward the deserts, open wide—when, making its way amid the broken-off depths, the host, dusty-footed, advanced upon the red shores, and, gazing up from the deep valley at the threatening mountains of the overhanging waves, the guardian of the nation thus crossed the pools of the strait? 10. Nor did the power of the divine work stop at this only; for, again covering with the back-flowing waters the sea that had been laid bare, He blotted out their path together with the enemy, and set the whole sea opposed in its own place—lest, I believe, Israel should turn back from the wilderness. He opened a way amid the waters, and then, with the waters poured around, He covered it, that to those seeking the desert He might lay open the going, and shut off the return. 11.

By this power of grace, then, was that nation endowed as it stretched toward the solitude; yet it merited more when it took possession. For there the Lord refreshed it by an unhoped-for miracle, when, the flint being struck, He gave forth gushing waters to the thirsty, and, drawing rivers from a native spring out of unyielding rocks, He laid upon the hidden veins, by a hidden hand, a sudden nature. Nor only there did He pour a flowing river into the bowels of the dry rock, but, sweetness being moreover added, He repressed the bitter draughts of the sad waters. Those He drew forth, these He sweetened; and by no greater miracle did He render waters from rocks than other waters from waters.

All the people were astounded, perceiving there the help of heavenly aid no less in these waters which existed than in those which did not yet exist. 12. There also the same people gathered up food sent down from heaven upon the white ground, when the Lord, in the clouds, cast down rain-bread in a dry shower. Into the tabernacles and into the surroundings of the camp the manna fell, glided down through the snowy air, where man ate the bread of angels. And because the day's own evil is sufficient for it, divine indulgence bestowed daily sustenance, the law being laid down already then that he should not be anxious for the morrow. Thus once, to those established in the wilderness, because earthly things could not furnish food, heaven ministered it. 13.

Did not that same Hebrew, dweller of the wilderness, also receive the Law and the heavenly decrees, then when, brought nearer, he was permitted to behold the signs impressed upon the tablets by the divine finger? Led forth from the camp to meet the Lord, he stood facing at the foot of the mountain; struck through with dread, he indeed saw that summit of Sinai which, with the great terror of conspicuous majesty, had settled upon it; astonished, he gazed at the mountain from afar smoking with interflowing fire, which then a most dense cloud overspread, covering it wholly far and wide; he was terrified at the lightnings glittering with the fires drawn forth, and the thunders re-echoing with frequent crashes, mingled with the blast of trumpets. So the children of Israel, while they dwelt in the solitudes, were granted to see the seat of God and to hear His voice. 14.

By such miracles and others like them was that nation of old sustained and supported, when it was a dweller in the desert, when unaccustomed food, sudden drink, and inexhaustible clothing nourished it, and when even the garments that encircled their bodies from without remained untiring and unworn. Whatever the resources of the place had not supplied for their need, the manifest magnificence of God provided. Scarcely had one of the saints, who spoke of this people, attained to these gifts of heavenly grace when he said: 'The Lord did not deal so with every nation'; He bestowed special things, granted things unheard of, when He restored His people in the wilderness with divine gifts.

And although these things are handed down as having been done as a figure of us, and that aspect of events blazes with hidden mysteries, and all are said to have been baptized in Moses in the cloud and in the sea, to have eaten spiritual food and drunk spiritual drink, nevertheless all these things so contain the faith of things to come that they preserve the truth of what was done. Yet not even thus is the praise of the desert any the less, even if the things done there are to be referred to the depth of the sacraments; nothing is detracted from grace, even if that condition then of body and clothing—untouched by corruption—presented an image of the life to come. For great is the grace of the place, if the desert may already have here such men as the felicity of the most blessed age shall possess.

What of the fact that the children of Israel reached that desirable land only through their dwelling in the desert? And so that the same nation might afterward possess that land flowing with milk and honey, it first possessed this dry and uncultivated wilderness. The whole road to the true homeland is ever opened through the desert's lodgings. Let him dwell in the uninhabitable land who wishes to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living; let him be a sojourner of this one, who strives to be a citizen of that one.

But to leave these things aside, David himself escaped the snares of the hostile king only when he sought the desert; he who, tarrying in the dry places of Idumaea, thirsted for the Lord with his whole heart, so that, thirsting in a desert, in a pathless and waterless land, he might then at last appear before God in the sanctuary, and thereafter the holy one might behold alike the power and the glory of God. 18. Elijah indeed, that greatest tiller of solitudes, closed heaven against the rains and unlocked it for fire; he took food from the ministering bird, he recalled the fixed laws of death, he crossed the Jordan divided when its stream was cut off, and, caught up in a fiery chariot, he ascended into heaven.

Truly Elijah, that most distinguished tiller of solitudes, closed the heaven against showers and opened it to fire, received nourishment from a bird, revoked the fixed laws of death; the Jordan being divided, he crossed the broken stream, and being carried off in a flaming chariot, he ascended into heaven. 19. What next of Elisha, the follower of this life and of this same virtue? Did he not likewise shine forth by the working of divine miracles, whom now the parted torrent, now the floating iron, now the restoring of life, now the increase of oil made illustrious—he who at last, after very many other deeds, proved this also, that the virtue of his master was doubled in himself, in that the master, while living, raised the dead, but he, himself already dead, raised the dead?

The sons of the prophets too, leaving the cities, sought out the Jordan flowing from a twofold spring, and built in hidden places tabernacles joined to the remote torrent. The holy company kept watch on the banks of the secluded river, as though scattered in certain tents and fitting dwellings: a noble disposition guarded the paternal spirit. 21. What of him, than whom none greater has arisen among those born of women—did he not, crying in the desert, live in the desert? In the desert baptism is delivered by him, in the desert repentance is preached, in the desert the first mention of the kingdom of heaven is brought in; there he first laid these things before his hearers, where each one, seeking them eagerly, the sooner deserved to obtain them.

And not without reason is this future steep-dwelling inhabitant of the desert sent as an angel before the face of the Lord; he unbars the way into the heavenly kingdom, the forerunner and witness of Christ, worthy that he should hear the Father speaking from heaven, touch the Son by baptizing Him, and behold the Holy Spirit descending. 22. Our Lord and Saviour Himself too, immediately after being baptized, as Scripture says, was led by the Spirit into the desert. Who then is this Spirit? There is no hesitation but that He is the Holy One. And that the Holy Spirit then draws Him into the desert—surely it is He who dictates this, He who in silence inspires it, and the wilderness becomes, at the Holy Spirit's prompting, a worthy prompting.

Steeped therefore in the mystic river, He thought nothing should first be done by Him save to press on toward the solitudes. And yet He who ever sanctifies the waters had then sanctified them, nor, being Himself pure, had He washed away the man of sin; for He had neither committed sin nor feared it. Yet He burned with longing for the desert, and as the author of a saving example in all things He desired for Himself this thing—not needful for Him, but for us. And if it was a thing to be vowed to God by one free from errors, how much more needful for man subject to errors? If it was sought by the sinless, how much more to be longed for by the sinner?

There too, in the service of the Lord, the crowds that clamor round about being removed, the silent ministries of divine vigor come in; and, set in the wilderness as though carried back into heaven, He is received by the offices of attending angels. There then He confuted that enemy of ancient time who tempted Him with the snares of his familiar craft, and the new Adam thrust back the supplanter of the old Adam. O great glory of the desert, that the devil who had conquered in paradise should be conquered in the wilderness! 24. That place too was deserted in which our Saviour fed, satisfied, and filled five thousand men with five loaves and only two fishes. Ever in the desert Jesus feeds His own with bread;

to His own He once set forth the manna of the divine gift as a pledge of faith, now the fragments set it forth; and by the same miracle of food, as then it fell down to the hungry, so now it grew for those who ate; for all by His gift the feasts, being made more abundant, became greater than the food that had been brought to the banquets. To the deserts, I say, to the deserts let us now assign the causes of such great signs: would virtue have declared its power, if the place had possessed abundance? 25. And then the Lord Jesus withdrew to the more remote parts of a high mountain, when, having taken only three chosen ones with Him, He shone forth with unwonted brightness of countenance; who, while He openly displayed the manhood He had assumed, entrusted to the secret places the token of His majesty to be declared. There then that greatest of the apostles said:

'It is good for us to be here,' loving, that is, the greatness of the sign in the remoteness of the desert. 26. The same Lord Jesus also, as it is written, went into a desert place and there prayed. Let that place therefore now be called a place of prayer, which God the author, by entreating God, showed to be fitting, and taught from where the prayer of one humbling himself might more easily pierce the clouds, aided by the place because honored by its seclusion; and He Himself, by praying there when He asked, demonstrated where it would be fitting for us to wish to pray. 27. Why then should I now make mention of John and Macarius, and very many others, whose conversation, while it is in the deserts, is made in the heavens?

They drew near to the Lord as far as it was lawful for man to draw near to God, and were admitted into the working of divine things as far as it was permitted to those still surrounded by flesh to be admitted. They inserted their mind, fixed upon things above, into heavenly secrets; from this they brought forth accompanying grace either by silent revelations or by clamoring signs, and, with seclusion favoring them, they were carried so far that, while they then touched the earth with the body, they already possessed heaven with the spirit. 28. This dwelling-place of the desert, therefore, I shall not undeservedly call a certain seat of faith, an ark of virtue, a sanctuary of charity, a treasure of piety, a storehouse of righteousness.

For just as in a great house all precious things, sealed under locks, are kept in remote places, so that magnificence of the saints is hidden in the desert, which nature guarded by its own difficulties; and there is laid down upon the earth a certain inner chamber of the desert, lest it grow common by the practice of human intercourse. And fittingly by the Lord of the world this more precious furniture of riches is stored in that part of the worldly house, and not only stored, but also, when there is need, brought forth from its hidden recesses. 29. There was of old the highest and greatest care of divine Providence toward the desert, but not even now is it small. For now too, when sustenance comes upon the desert's dwellers by an unhoped-for divine bounty, what else is it than something that has slipped down and flowed from heaven?

These too have in this heavenly munificence their own manna, and no less does the Lord, by the secret working of His arm, scatter nourishment for them from hiding. And when, the flints being pierced through, waters at last flow forth from the rocks answering to the divine gift, what else is it than that, as if by the stroke of Moses' rod, they burst forth from the smitten cliff? Likewise the supply of garments for those living in the vastness of the desert—even now, behold, it does not fail, which, while it continually comes in by free divine provision, surely by coming in abides. The Lord fed His own in the desert of old, but He feeds them now too; and those indeed for forty years, but these as long as there shall be years. 30. Rightly does the holy man, kindled with divine fire, leaving his own seat, choose this for his seat;

rightly does he prefer it to kinsmen, to children and parents, and purchase it at the cost of all his possessions; rightly does this place obtain, for those who forsake their native land, the name of a temporary homeland, from which neither fear, nor desire, nor joy, nor grief calls them away; rightly is it plainly the sole price of all the affections. 31. For who could worthily enumerate the benefits of the desert, and the advantages of virtue belonging to those who dwell in it? Set in the world, they in a manner withdraw outside the world, wandering, as the Apostle says, in solitudes, in mountains and in caves and in the dens of the earth.

And not undeservedly does the Apostle deny that the world is worthy of such men, who are estranged from that tumult of human public life—set apart, at rest, silent—and who are no more removed from the will of sinning than from the power of it. 32. The illustrious men of this age among the ancients, wearied by the labors of their own affairs, used to betake themselves to philosophy as if to their own home. How much more beautifully do they turn aside to these studies of most manifest wisdom, and more magnificently withdraw to the freedom of the solitudes and the secrets of the deserts, so that, being free for philosophy alone, they may be exercised in the walks of that desert as in their own gymnasiums! Where, I ask, is the Passover more freely kept than in the dwelling of the desert? But by virtues and continence:

continence, I say, which is as it were another desert of the heart. For Moses too gave himself to fasting for forty continuous days in the desert, and so likewise did Elijah after him there, and both there extended their abstinence beyond the powers of human capacity; then the same Lord too, but in the desert, passed His time of abstinence. Nor do we read elsewhere of equal periods spent in fasting, so that we may suppose that a certain vigor was granted by the Lord to those places as well. 33. Where, I ask, does it more befall one to be at leisure and to see how sweet the Lord is? Where is a readier way opened for those striving toward perfection? Where is a greater field opened for the virtues? Where is the guarding of the mind, that it may be able to look about it, easier?

Where is there a freer intention of the heart, that it may strive to cleave to God, than in those very secret places, in which it is ready not only to find God but even to keep Him? 34. And although in the desert a thin dust of poor soil often presents itself, nowhere nevertheless are the foundations of that Gospel house more firmly laid. Although one might wish to stand upon those sands, by no means however does he build his house upon the sands; nowhere more than there is that foretold building set upon the rock, which, founded with immovable stability, shall endure an unshaken mass, so that in the time of bursting storms it may not be undermined by the blowing winds nor by the loosed torrents.

And so the dwellers of the desert build for themselves such edifices, but in their hearts—they who seek the highest things from the lowest, who pursue lofty things by humility, careless and forgetful of earthly things, for the hope and vow of heavenly things; who cast away riches, while they prefer to be in want; who hasten not to be in want, while they covet to be rich; who by day and night contend with labor and watchings, that they may lay hold of the beginning of that life whose end shall not be found. So the desert holds them in its maternal bosom, those most rightly greedy of eternity, well prodigal of brevity, careless of the present time, sure of the future; and through these things they attain that, upon whom the ends of the ages have come, to these the ages without end may fall.

There glow, salutarily inscribed, the laws of the inner man, and more subtly the statutes of the eternal age. There the human ordinances against crimes and misdeeds do not sound forth their force, nor do the avenging laws of capital offenses display themselves: there the unworthy laws make him guilty whose heart is not most pure; and the very inner motion of the mind is, with all zeal, restrained within the bounds of righteousness, and by the same judge even the beginnings of slight thoughts are punished. Among others it is evil to have done evil, but among these it is evil not to have done good. 36. But how could I venerate with worthy commemoration the inner institutions of the desert?

But now I cannot pass over in silence this, that in its dwellers that power of virtue, hidden though it be, is nevertheless known to almost all. For when they drive themselves into remote places, repudiating the world and human fellowship, they long indeed to be hidden, yet their merit they cannot hide; as much as their life withdraws inwardly, so much does their glory burst forth outwardly—God, as I think, so regulating between the two, that the inhabitant of his desert may lie hidden from the age, and not lie hidden by his example. This is the lamp which shines throughout the whole world, set upon the desert's candlestick; from here a most blazing light spreads itself through the dark members of the world;

this is the city which cannot be hidden, built upon the mountain of the desert, which by its own image has given to the earth the heavenly Jerusalem. Therefore, if anyone is in darkness, let him draw near to this light, that he may see; if anyone is exposed to peril, let him make for this city, that he may be safe. 37. Oh, how delightful to those who thirst for God are even the trackless solitudes in those forests! How pleasant to those seeking Christ are those secret places, which, with nature keeping watch, stretch far and wide! All things are silent: then the joyful mind is roused toward its God by certain goads of silence, then it is quickened by ineffable transports; there is no sound clamoring between, no voice except, perchance, with God;

he alone is with the soul, while a sound breaks in upon the silence of the secret station and interrupts that state of placid quiet—a noise sweeter than quiet, and a holy tumult of most modest conversation; then, with hymns sweetly resounding, the fervent choirs strike the very heights, and one reaches heaven almost no less by voices than by prayers. 38. In vain then does the adversary, prowling round about, rage like a wolf about the folds where the sheep are penned, and, as by the barrier of walls so by the compass of the desert, he is kept off from his own. And lest those who guard the city should watch in vain, it is more especially fortified with Christ as champion, so that the people adopted by God, as much as they are exposed by the spaces of seclusion, so much are shut off from their enemies.

Indeed the beautiful choir of rejoicing angels visits the desert, and passing up and down by that ladder of Jacob, they illumine the wilderness with the frequency of their hidden visitation. There too at midday the Bridegroom reclines, and the dwellers of the desert, wounded by love, gaze upon Him, saying: 'We have found Him whom our soul sought; we will hold Him and will not let Him go.' 39. It is not fruitless, as is believed, that soil of the desert is not barren, nor are the parched rocks of the wilderness unfruitful. There the husbandman lays up manifold seed and a hundredfold of fruits;

not easily there do the cast seeds fall beside the way, which the birds take up, nor do they easily slip away into stony ground, which, not having depth of earth, scorch and wither when the sun is risen, nor do they easily escape into the thorns, which are overwhelmed by brambles already grown up. There with rich yield the husbandman reaps a harvest; among these rocks is produced that grain through which even the bones grow fat. There too is found the living bread which came down from heaven; in those cliffs burst forth watering springs and living waters, which can suffice not only for satisfying but even for saving. Here is the meadow and delight of the inner man; here the uncultivated wilderness is, by a wondrous loveliness, made delightful; and the same is a desert of the body, a paradise of the soul.

No land, however fertile, may now boast itself in comparison with the land of the desert. Is some land rich in crops? In this above all is born that wheat which satisfies the hungry with its fatness. Is another glad with teeming vineyards? In this above all is brought forth that wine which gladdens well the heart of man. Is another excelling in pastures? In this most healthfully feed those sheep of which it is said, 'Feed my sheep.' Is another painted with blooming flowers? In this above all shines that true flower of the field and lily of the valleys. Lastly, is another exulting in beautiful metals, and another tawny with its gold? In this gleam the varied splendors of stones with quivering light.

Thus this land, greater than each land for each thing, far surpasses all in all good things. 41. Rightly therefore have you, O venerable land, proved yourself either with the saints set within you, or not far removed from you, either long inhabited or to be desired, because for all the goods of Him you are fruitful, in whom all things are held. You require this cultivator who tills his own land, not who tills yours; you, barren of the vices of those who inhabit you, you, fruitful in virtues. Whoever has sought the familiar friendship of the saints with you has found God; whoever has cultivated you has found Christ in you. He who dwells in you rejoices in the Lord his dweller, and is himself both your possessor and a divine possession; whoever has not fled your dwelling has himself been made the temple of God.

42. Indeed I owe reverence to all the places of the desert which are made glorious by the retreat of the pious, yet with especial honor do I embrace my own Lérins, which, from the wrecks of the stormy world poured out upon her, receives in her most loving arms those coming from it, and gently leads those scorched by the heat of the age beneath her shades, that there, panting, they may take up the spirit again beneath that inner shade of the Lord. Abounding with waters, green with herbs, gleaming with flowers, delightful to the sight and to the smell, she shows herself to those possessing her as the paradise they shall possess; worthy that she should be founded in heavenly disciplines by Honoratus her author, who, in such institutions, obtained so great a father, radiant with the vigor and countenance of the apostolic spirit; worthy that, receiving him, she should so send him forth;

worthy that she should both nourish most excellent monks and bring forth priests worthy to be sought after. She now holds his successor, Maximus by name, illustrious because after him he deserved to be enrolled; she had Lupus of revered name, who recalled to us that wolf of the tribe of Benjamin; she had his own brother Vincentius, a gem conspicuous in inner splendor; she now possesses Caprasius, venerable in gravity, equal to the ancient saints; she now has those holy old men who, in their separate cells, brought the Egyptian Fathers into our Gauls. 43. What companies of saints, O good Jesus, what assemblies did I behold there! Precious alabasters glowed in them with a sweet ointment; everywhere breathed the odor of life.

They displayed the face of the inner man in the bearing of the outer: bound together by charity, cast down by humility, most gentle in piety, most firm in hope, modest in gait, swift in obedience, silent in meeting, serene in countenance—straightway, by their very contemplation, they show forth a company of angelic quiet. They covet nothing, they desire nothing save Him alone, whom alone, desiring, they covet. While they seek the blessed life, they live blessed, and even while they still strive after it, they already obtain it. And so they wish to be set apart from sinners? They are already set apart. They wish to possess a chaste life? They already possess it. They long to have all their time in the praises of God? They have it. They desire to rejoice in the companies of the saints? They rejoice. They long to enjoy Christ?

They enjoy Him in the Spirit. They yearn to obtain the life of the desert? They obtain it in heart. Thus through the most bountiful grace of Christ they deserve in the present many of those things which they long for in the future; and they grasp the very thing, while they follow the hope. They have no small reward of their labor even in the labor itself, because what shall be the wage is almost already in the work. 44. Restored and inserted into the fellowship of these men, my dearest Hilary, you have conferred very much upon yourself, and very much also upon them, who now rejoice with eager exultation at your return. With these, I beseech you, do not blot out the memory of my sins and of your intercession; with these, I say, to whom I know not whether you yourself have brought more joy or have found greater.

You are now the truer Israel, who behold God with your heart, long since delivered from the darkness of the Egypt of the age, having crossed the saving waters with the enemy submerged, having followed in the desert the kindled fire of faith; the things once bitter you now find sweet through the wood of the cross, you draw from Christ the waters leaping up into eternal life, you feed the inner man with the heavenly bread, in the Gospel you receive the divine voice of thunder; you who are contained with Israel in the desert, shall enter the land of promise with Jesus. Farewell in Christ Jesus our Lord.