隱修會規·懺悔書與書信 第 36 章

In countless watches the seasons of life run their course; all things pass away: months and years roll on. With every moment our age slips into old age: may you be granted to lay hold of everlasting life. Now spurn the alluring enticements of this fleeting life; lavish indulgence is overcome by honourable virtue. Greed burns, and the breast burns with blind desire; the mind given over to vain cares knows no bounds in possessing. Silver is baser than gold, gold than the virtues. The highest peace is to wish for nothing beyond what need requires. These verses I have often sent you to read: and I pray that you admit my words to your ears. Let no vain and perishing pleasure deceive you. Behold how brief is the power of nobles and kings; the slippery glory of mortal life passes swiftly away. Grant pardon to these words: perhaps I have been too talkative.

Remember always to shun whatever is excessive. Receive willingly, O Hunald, and read through with serene mind the faithful words of Columban, who warns you with a true voice: which though they lack the adornment of polished speech, yet bear witness to the vows and love of a pious mind. Live trusting in God, following the precepts of Christ, while life yet remains, while the certain time of salvation is at hand. Time and the hour fly; our age slips by with the moments. Despise the joys of fleeting life, which perish. Do not pursue frail wealth and empty gains, nor let an overflowing abundance of things trouble you. Let your riches be the teachings of the divine law, and the chaste guidance of the holy Fathers' lives; all that the learned prophets have written in song. Take these riches.

Always despise transient things, and let trembling old age come into your mind, which at length the violence of icy death follows after. The wise man now meditates on the last times of life. He thinks of strength numbed by age, of frequent diseases, of the uncertain day of death and the certain pains. Many troubles of the frail flesh harass the old man. For the languid limbs waste away in ugly emaciation. Then the joint of the knees grows stiff, and through all the veins his blood grows cold in his whole body. Thus, leaning on a staff, he supports his feeble limbs. Why should I recall the sad groans? why the wearinesses of the mind? Sleep is absent from his eyes: every sound rouses him. What then will silver profit, what tawny gold, the wicked heap gathered over many years? What the gifts of nobles?

What the banquets of a rich man's table? What good does it do to remember the joys of a life now passed, when at last the boundary of life's end has come? While this life flies, whoever ponders it with watchful mind spurns greed and rejects vain honours. Why do mortals now desire to set their minds upon earthly cares? why do they pursue base gains? The greedy man always lacks money, as the poet bears witness; the love of money grows as much as money itself grows. He is in want amid riches, and has not what he seems to have. He alone hides his coins at home in a chest, heaping up wealth, while he knows not how to love himself; he loves his heir more, who faithfully keeps all things. O too happy he, for whom thrifty use suffices, that he may temper the care of the body with even moderation!

He is not seized by the wretched and blind desire of things, nor does he covet more than what nature demands. Not greedy for gain, he does not fill his purse with coins, nor heaps up soft garments to be food for moths. He does not take care to feed horses with rich fodder, nor turns such cares beneath an anxious breast, lest his gathered money perish in sudden flames, or a wicked thief snatch his coins from a broken chest. One lives now without silver, lives without gold. Naked are they born, and naked the earth receives them. To the rich the gates of black Pluto are unbarred, but to the poor and pious the heavenly kingdoms lie open. The Saviour admonished the greedy to despise riches. Whoever loves Christ follows the footsteps of Christ.

For brief and frail is the glory of mortal flesh; whatever it possesses, the swift flight of rushing time carries away. Beautifully did the voice of the truth-telling prophet sing such things, numbering the seasons of an age and of a fleeting life: Time governs all things, and with time all things are dragged along. The elements alternate their turns and change the seasons; the days take increase, and the nights in turn. There are seasons of flowers, the harvest keeps its own seasons; thus again the field is clothed with thick grass. There are times of rejoicing, there are certain times of mourning. There are times of life, there are sad times of death. Fleeting time gives all, takes away, and diminishes. Spring, summer, autumn, winter; year returns into year. Though all things return, a man's own age does not return.

The wise man remembers these things at every hour, and prefers a humble home with light fare to rich banquets. Now with a lowly prayer let me at last conclude my words! Be mindful of me yourself when you have read these verses: thus may you have the long seasons of a desired old age.