A Golden Treatise of Mental Prayer by St. Peter Alacantara

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A LETTER OF THE BLESSED FATHER FR. PETER DE ALCANTARA, TO THE HOLY MOTHER THERESA OF JESUS,
WHO DEMANDED HIS COUNSEL, WHETHER SHE SHOULD FOUND MONASTERIES WITH RENTS OR NOT.

The Holy Ghost give you his grace and love, &c. I received yours, delivered me by Don Gonzales d'Aranda, and am amazed considering your zeal and piety: in committing to the direction of learned lawyers, that, which is noways their profession, or belonging unto them: you should do well to take their advice concerning the deciding of a process, or of suits in law, and temporal affairs, but in that which concerns perfection of life, we ought to treat only with those who practise the same. For such as the conscience of every one is, such are his exercises and works. Concerning the Evangelical counsels, may I demand whether they be observable or no? For that the counsels of God cannot be but good, neither can the observance thereof seem difficult, unless to those who govern themselves according to human prudence, having less confidence in God than they ought. For he who hath given the counsel, will consequently give force and means to accomplish the same. And if your zeal and fervor draw you to embrace the counsels of Jesus Christ, observe them with the greatest integrity and perfection that you possibly can, seeing they were equally given to both sexes. It cannot be, but the same merit and reward will be rendered unto you, as to others that have truly observed them. And if there be seen any want or necessity in the monasteries of poor religious women, it is because they are poor against their wills, and not through fault of their vow of poverty, or following of Evangelical counsels. For I account not much of their simple poverty, but of their patient sufferance of the same for the love of God. But I more esteem that poverty which is desired, procured, and embraced for the same love. And, if I should think, or determinately believe otherwise, I should not hold myself a good Catholic. I believe in this, and in all other things taught by our blessed Saviour, and that his counsels are good and profitable, as proceeding from God, and though they oblige not to sin, they bind, nevertheless, that man to be more perfect that followeth them, than if he had not undertaken them at ail. I hold them poor in spirit, who are poor in will, as our Saviour hath said, and myself proved; however, I believe more from God than of my own experience, that those, who by the grace of God are with all their hearts poor, lead a life most happy, as confiding, and hoping in him alone. His divine Majesty give you light to understand this truth, and to practise it. Believe not those that shall tell you the contrary, for want of light and understanding, or for not having tasted how sweet our Lord is to those that fear and love him, renouncing for his sake all unnecessary things of this world, for they are enemies of the cross of Christ, not believing the glory which accompanieth the same. I also pray our Lord to give you this light, that you be not wanting in the belief of this truth, so much manifested; and that you take not counsel, but of the followers of Jesus Christ; although others think it sufficient, if they observe the thing they are bound unto, yet they have not always greater virtue and perfection by their work. And though the counsel be good, yet that of our blessed Saviour is much better, who knows what he counsels, and gives grace to accomplish the same, and in the end reward to those who hope in him, and not in rents and goods of the earth.

From Avila, this 14th day of April, 1562.

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CHAPTER X. OF HIS CONFIDENCE IN ALMIGHTY GOD's PROVIDENCE

His admirable confidence in the providence of Almighty God accompanied his rigid and Evangelical poverty, and it oftentimes miraculously appeared both at home and abroad.

He lived sometimes in the convent of Sancta Maria de Rosario, which is situated in a woody place, by the river Tentairis, six Italian miles remote from any company; at all times it was difficult to come to it, as the way was very steep and crooked, nevertheless it was a place of great devotion, whither the inhabitants of the country much resorted; but now, by reason of a great snow, the like of which was not seen in the memory of man, the monastery was so environed on every side, that the friars could not go out to get their victuals, neither could any come to them to bring provision. They cried to heaven to the Father of the poor, that being destitute of all human aid, he only, out of his infinite mercy, would be pleased not to forsake them. The holy Father desired them to go into the church, and kneeling down before the blessed Sacrament, to pray to God that he would put a remedy to their hard affliction. He with great confidence animated his brethren, saying — Be courageous, brethren. Almighty God will not be long, he will come without delay. He had no sooner uttered the words, but another most violent storm of snow fell so fast, that frustrated the hopes of all human assistance. But he that containeth not his anger long, did not delay to comfort his afflicted children. Behold! a little space after the storm was over, the porter heard the bell of the gate of the convent ring; he went to open the door, but espied nobody; he returned back again, thinking it to be the wind that had stirred the bell, or that his fancy seemed to hear the noise when he heard it not; checking himself with foolishness, that he could imagine, that it was possible for any one to come to the convent in so deep a snow. Whilst he was thus discoursing with himself, it rang again so hard that all heard it, notwithstanding there was a great wind. Then returning again to the gate, and opening it, he found a basket filled with new white bread, he looked about to see if he could espy any body, but no creature appeared, for it was a deep snow, where the footing of any person could not but appear. He left the basket, and with joy ran back into the convent, to cany the good news to the friars, who would not believe, until the holy Father commanded all the brothers to go in manner of procession, to see what Almighty God had done for his servants; when they came, they found all true, as the porter had related to them; but their benefactor did no where visibly appear. They arried the basket in, and after thanksgiving, refreshed themselves with the bread which the Father of heaven had miraculously bestowed upon them. Upon which they lived many days, until the extremity of the season was past, and they could go out to beg alms according to their custom.

Another time travelling in the extremity of the heat of summer, upon the mountain vulgarly called Sierra Morena, he, with his companion, grew so faint, for want of something to quench their thirst, that they were ready to sink under the burden of their tedious journey. He said unto his companion. Brother, let us betake ourselves to prayer, the only remedy to incline the God of mercy to take compassion upon our misery. Whilst they were upon their knees at prayers, from a thicket came running out a mad bull, which made towards them amain; they seeing themselves in this great danger of their Hves, betook themselves to flight, but the bull pursued them over hedge and ditch, hard at their heels, till at last he forced them to a place where there was a fountain of water; when they came in sight of that, the bull, forgetting his former fury, stood still like an innocent lamb, he breathed himself awhile, and went another way. But they admiring this great miracle of the Omnipotent, that sendeth his wild beasts to teach the poor, refreshed themselves, and went on their journey with alacrity, their souls more comforted with this unexpected benefit of Almighty God's providence, than their bodies strengthened with the water which they drank for their sustenance.

Having occasion to go from De las Lucuas to Del Pico, as he was on his journey it began to snow, which fell so fast that it was not possible for him to go forward or backward, so that he was enforced to remain the whole night in that extremity of cold and snow. But the fervor of his devotion, wherewith he implored the divine assistance, caused him to pass over the night without tediousness. But what was more admirable, behold! in the morning when it was day, one might see that the snow did not so much as touch or wet him, but it congealed over his head, in a miraculous manner, like a canopy, and on each side two walls of snow frozen in a curious manner defended him from the inclemency of the weather, as though he had been shut in a beautiful chamber.

These few miracles I have set down, collected out of many, which Almighty God hath been pleased to work by the means of his glorious servant, as testimonies, not only of many singular prerogatives of graces exhibited to this holy Father in his own particular; but also, that we, admiring the strange and unaccustomed manner of Almighty God's proceedings with this blessed man, the truth whereof being confirmed by many approved authors, may be incited to imitate his virtues, whom God hath honored with the grace of working miracles.

If thou shouldst object with Calvin, In Prcefat. histit, that the miracles of our saints in the Catholic Church, are partly feigned, partly diabolical, I answer, that the same thing the Pharisees objected to our blessed Saviour, that he cast out devils in Beelzebub the prince of the devils. Moreover, it is most devilish to blemish the integrity of the ancient fathers and saints, with such an impudent and foul aspersion, as those who wrote the lives of other saints, as Nyssens of Thaumaturgus, St. Athanasius and St. Jerome of St. Anthony, Severus of St. Martin, St. Gregory of St Benedict, St. Bernard of St. Malachias, St. Bonaventure of St. Francis, whose authority if we should deny, no faith or credit is to be given to any history in the world, which absurdity none but men out of their wits, or blinded with malice, will admit. St. Augustine confirmeth what I say. His words are these: "An dicet aliquis ista falsa esse miracula, nee fuisse facta, sed mendaciter scripta? Quisquis hoc dicit, si de his rebus negat omnino ullis litteris esse credendum, potest etiam dicere nee Deos ullos curare mortalia." De Civit Dei, l. 10, c. 18,

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CHAPTER XI. OF HIS KNOWLEDGE IN HOLY SCRIPTURE, AND OF HIS PREACHING

He was so well versed in the Holy Scripture, that for the most part, he could repeat it without book, and in explicating it, he was so clear, and withal so moving, that one might judge his learning to be rather supernaturally infused in prayer, than naturally gotten by the ordinary means of study, for he quickly learned what he was taught, seeing he had the Holy Ghost for his master. He wrote some spiritual works, wherein he had a special gift from Almighty God, both to direct those who tend to perfection, in their journey towards heaven, as also to inflame their wills to aspire to that eternal good. In this particular science, he was chiefly eminent, and wrote profitable and learned tracts of this matter.

He had such a rare gift in preaching, such invective against sin, and withal so comfortable to those who were pulling their feet out of the snare of vices, that Almighty God was pleased to work by his means many wonderful effects in the souls of his auditory.

In the city of Abula there was a young gentleman who was given up to, and as it were buried in all the sports and vanities of this wicked world: but especially in the wild and pernicious love of wanton women. Coming in his pomp upon a festival day of that place, he by chance met the holy father; and, when he understood from his companions the quality and sanctity of him, he went towards him, with others, to salute him with great respect, and withal begged his prayers, but God knoweth with what intention, for he still obstinately remained in his filthy desires. But the holy father in his sermon touched the sore of his soul unto the quick, (yet not revealing any person) insomuch that the Holy Ghost did so work with him, that this prodigal child understanding the father was to go away from that place the next day, made haste to get pen and ink to write his sins, the next day cometh to the father and saluteth him, giving him a long[1] scroll of his sinful life, and desired him for the love of God, that he would vouchsafe to pray for him, that God would have mercy upon his soul, and that he would not punish him for ever according to his deserts.

The holy father received his paper, and promised that he would pray for him. So each departed their way. But he had scarce turned his back, but the father earnestly begged of Almighty God his conversion, of which he was presently sensible; for, before he came home, the spirit of God did so inflame him, that he abjured his former conversation, and loathed the pleasures that before he loved so much, and being returned to his house, flung off his brave clothes, tore his chain from his neck, and vested himself in mean and country clothes, without any shame of appearing to all the world, all admiring the sudden change of the right hand of the Most High; and, as afterwards, he lived well, persevering to the end, so he died happily. He dispersed his patrimony amongst the poor, and built many monasteries and hospitals, as testimonies of his conversion.

He had such efficacy in his preaching, that many common women, drawn with the sweetness of his spirit, changed their sordid and base habits of living, into holy and pious conversation. Others, as well of the nobility, as amongst the meaner sort of people, renouncing all pleasures for the love of Jesus, shrouded themselves in cloisters, where they might be secure from the contagion of worldly vanities. And many consecrating their virginity to their celestial spouse, like lilies amongst thorns, persevered in the open world amidst the dangers thereof, with immoveable constancy.


1. The young man out of humility, manifested his sins to the holy father out of the sacrament of confession.

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CHAPTER XII. OF HIS RELIGIOUS ZEAL AND OF HIS DEATH

The reverend esteem of his virtue increased so much, even in his own cloister, that there, many times (enjoined by obedience) performing the office of Guardian with great integrity, he was, at length, by the suffrages of all the fathers, elected twice Provincial of the province of St. Gabriel, where he made a happy and notable reformation. But after his three years expired, he betook himself again to his poor hermitage, where he feasted his soul with sacred contemplation, persevering in reading the ancient fathers, watchings, fastings, and regular discipline. But the more he hid himself in these obscure places, the more the fame of his learning and sanctity did shine abroad. And in testimony that Almighty God would not have this resplendent light to be put under a bushel, but to be set upon a candlestick, to give light to others to follow his glorious footsteps, and to the end that he might not only enrich his own soul with the treasures of virtue, but also instruct others, both by his doctrine and example, to aspire to heaven, the apostolic see did vouchsafe to honor him with a commission, by virtue of which, he should erect and found a new province, under the title of St. Joseph; which, before his death, he was so happy to see, not only multiplied in number of convents and religious men, by his great labor and travail, but also to be perfectly established in regular observance and true monastical discipline.

At last, the number of his merits being complete, his just master, whom he had served so long with great fidelity, was pleased to call him to reward his labors with an eternal crown of glory, and to reap in joy what he had sown in tears. He fell sick in the convent of St. Andrew de Monte Areno, where Almighty God vouchsafed to let him know the hour of his death: and before his departure, he called his brethren, exhorting them to perseverance in that happy course which they had undertaken for the love of God, and the saving of their own souls. He then received upon his knees, with abundance of tears, the sacred Viaticum with singular devotion, and a little after, his infirmity increasing, he received also the sacrament of Extreme Unction. The Blessed Virgin and St. John, to whom all his life he was very much devout, appeared to him, and gave him assurance of his salvation; which ever-comfortable news he no sooner understood, but his heart was ravished with joy, and his mouth filled with gladness, and out of that abundance of content he breaketh out into these words of the prophet David,[1] " Laetatus sum in his quae dicta sunt mihi: in domum Domini ibimus:" "I have rejoiced in those things that are said unto me: we will go into the house of our Lord." In fine, the happy hour being come, he yielded his blessed soul into the hands of his maker, and by the passage of a temporal death, travelled to an eternal life, on the 18th of October, upon the feast of St. Luke, 1562, the 63d year of his age, and the 47th of his entrance into holy religion. His body after his death became more beautiful, shining with great clarity, and sending forth sweet odors. The people from all parts flocked to behold this sacred spectacle, and greedy after so rich a prey, clipped pieces of his habit, which they conserved as holy relics. His body was no sooner in the grave, but his sepulchre began to be renowned with many miracles, which for brevity's sake I omit to speak of, because I would not be too tedious to the devout reader.

His soul was no sooner out of his body, but presently he appeared to St. Theresa, to bring unto her the joyful tidings of his reception into heaven. Many times after he appeared to her, and once, amongst the rest, he said unto her, " O happy penance that deserved such a glorious recompense. "

Happy, indeed, was his penance that changed sorrows into pleasures, mourning into mirth, tears into joys, and a momentary cross into an eternal crown. The same blessed Theresa, as we have said before, affirmed, that she received more comfort and consolation from him after his death, than in the time of his life; and that his soul flew immediately to heaven, without any passage by purgatory. All these things being well examined, and verified by persons, without all exception, worthy of credit, his holiness, for the glory of God, honor of the saint, and benefit of the faithful, vouchsafed to pronounce him beatified, to the end that, as he had a perfect fruition of glory in the church triumphant, so he should want no praise or reverence in the church militant. He was beatified on the 18th of April, 1622, and his office is celebrated in the convents of his order on the 19th of October.


1. Psalm 112.

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CHAPTER I.

In this Chapter we will briefly set down the fruit of prayer and meditation, that men considering the benefit of them, may be incited with a prompt and more willing mind to frequent these holy exercises.

It is most certain, that the malice of our own hearts, is the principal cause that hindereth us from attaining to our beatitude and everlasting happiness, because it maketh us slow to godly actions, dull to virtuous exercises, and suggesteth a greater difficulty in them than there is, which if it were not, a man might walk without any molestation in the way of virtue, and at length without labor attain to his desired end. Hence, it is, that the Apostle saith: "I am delighted with the law of God according to the inward man: but I see another law in my members fighting against the law of my mind, and captivating me in the law of sin."[1]


The efficacy of devotion

This, therefore, is the prime root and cause of all our miseries, against which there is no remedy more convenient and efficacious than devotion, which, according to St. Thomas, is nothing else, but a certain promptitude and facility of the mind to do well. It doth exclude from our mind this tedious difficulty, and maketh us with alacrity apply ourselves to virtuous acts. Therefore, not without cause we may term it spiritual food, recreative and heavenly dew, a pleasant instinct and supernatural affection of the Holy Ghost, which doth so strengthen and transform the hearts of men, that it doth beget in them a new gust and feeling of spiritual things, and on the contrary, a tedious loathing of worldly vanities.

Daily experience manifesteth this particular unto us. For we see the souls of those who arise from profound and devout prayer, to be strengthened with admirable resolutions, adorned with new graces, and replenished with firm purposes of amendment of life, and frequenting pious exercises, they burn with an ardent desire of serving and loving him with their whole heart, whom in their prayer they found the God of all goodness and benignity, desiring to suffer any grievous and burdensome cross whatsoever it be, yea to shed their blood for his sake. To conclude, prayer is a bath, an open place, a bed of pleasure, wherein the soul recreateth and refresheth herself.

If you ask me what be the chiefest means to attain unto this heroical virtue of devotion, I answer with the same Doctor, that it is gotten by serious meditation, and contemplation of heavenly things. For the ruminating of these in the soul, with a more attentive and profound consideration, doth beget in the will that disposition which we call devotion, which effectually rouseth and pricketh a man forward to every good work. For this cause, the exercise of prayer and meditation was frequent and familiar to men of sanctity, as judging it the easiest means to compass devotion, which, although it be but one only simple virtue, yet it disposeth, and maketh us fit for all others, and as it were with spurs pricketh us forward to the performance of every good work.

I call St. Bonaventure to witness what I say: his words are these.[2] The inestimable virtue of prayer is able to obtain all good, and remove all hurtful things. If thou wilt patiently endure adversity, be a man of prayer. If thou wilt overcome tribulation and temptations, be a man of prayer. If thou wilt trample upon thy perverse inclinations, be a man of prayer. If thou wilt know the deceits of Satan, and avoid them, be a man of prayer. If thou wilt live joyfully in the work of God, and trace the way of labor and affliction, be a man of prayer. If thou wilt exercise thyself in a spiritual course, and not walk according to the desires of the flesh, be a man of prayer. If thou wilt put to flight thy vain and trifling fancies, be a man of prayer. If thou wilt feast thy soul with holy thoughts, good desires, fervor, and devotion, be a man of prayer. If thou wilt establish thy heart with a manly spirit, and constant purpose in the service of God, be a man of prayer. To conclude, if thou wilt root out vice, and be endued with virtues, be a man of prayer. In it is received the unction of the Holy Ghost, which teacheth all things. Also, if thou wilt climb up to the top of contemplation, and enjoy the sweet embracings of thy beloved spouse, be a man of prayer. For by the exercise of prayer, we come to that contemplation and taste of heavenly things. Thou seest of what great power and virtue prayer is. For the confirmation of all which, omitting the testimony of holy Scriptures, let this be an evident proof unto thee, that by daily experience, we hear and see illiterate and simple persons, to have attained the aforesaid, and greater things by the virtue of prayer. Thus St. Bonaventure.

I beseech you, can there be found a richer treasure, or a more fertile field desired? Hear another Doctor no less for religion and sanctity, who upon the same matter saith: by prayer the soul is cleansed from sin, replenished with charity, confirmed in faith, strengthened, and refreshed in spirit. Prayer establisheth the inward man, pacifieth the heart, knoweth the truth, conquereth temptations, expelleth sorrow, reneweth the senses, stirreth up languishing virtue, putteth to flight tepidity, and scoureth the rust of vices. In prayer, the quick sparkles of celestial desires are incessantly sent forth, from the burning coals of divine love. The privileges of prayer are rare, the prerogatives admirable. Prayer unlocketh the gates of heaven, manifesteth divine secrets, and always findeth free access to the ears of God. I will add no more, for those things which have already been said, abundantly express the fruits of this holy exercise.


1. Rom vii. 22
2. Bonaventure in the Meditation of the life of Christ, cap. 73.

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CHAPTER II. OF THE MATTER OF PRAYER

Having taken notice of the utility of prayer and meditation, we will now declare the matter about which meditation is to be conversant; for seeing it is ordained to this end, that the soul of him that meditateth, may be excited to the fear and love of God, and the keeping of His commandments; the matter of meditation ought to be such, as doth next dispose to this end, and scope. And, although every creature, and the whole Scripture itself be able to minister this matter unto us, yet speaking generally, the mysteries of our holy faith, contained in the Creed, are most efficacious and profitable to attain unto this end. For these on the one side, contain Almighty God's benefits, the latter judgment, the pains of hell, and the glory of paradise; all which, like sharp pricks, do spur us on to the love and fear of God. On the other side, they comprehend the life and passion of our Lord and Saviour, which is the spring and fountain of all our good. These two things contained in the Apostolical Creed, for the most part yield matter of meditation; and, therefore, I think, prayer and meditation ought chiefly to be conversant about them, although every one in particular may have certain points, which may more specially inflame and excite the soul to the love and fear of God.

Being, therefore, persuaded with this reason, that I might the better conduct young beginners, and untrained soldiers into this way of mental prayer, and that I might give unto them altogether prepared, and (as it were to little children) foreshowed matter of meditation; I have selected two kinds of meditations, almost taken out of the mysteries of our faith; the one serving for the morning, the other for the evening; that as the body is commonly fed with two meals, so the soul may be strengthened and nourished with two spiritual refections, by the meditation and consideration of heavenly things. Some of these are of the passion and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, others of the mysteries of our faith, as I said before. But those who cannot have the opportunity, to meditate twice-a-day, after this manner, they may use them, to wit, they may take to their consideration the seven former meditations in the one week, and the latter in another week; or they may chiefly insist upon those of the life and passion of our Saviour; although the other be not to be neglected, especially in the beginning of a soul's conversion, to whom they are proper, when the fear of God, contrition and horror of sin, is chiefly to be regarded and sought after.

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HERE FOLLOW THE SEVEN FORMER MEDITATIONS


A MEDITATION FOR MONDAY

This day thou shalt call to memory thy sins, and shalt exercise thyself in the knowledge of thyself, that on the one side thou mayest truly ponder the greatness of thy offences, and on the other side, thou mayest look into thy baseness, and thy own nothing, and acknowledge that all the good which thou hast, is from God. This consideration will get thee submission of mind, and true humility, the mother of all virtues.

First, therefore, weigh with thyself, the multitude of the sins of thy former life, and namely, those sins which thou hast committed, when as yet thou wert not illuminated with the divine splendor to know Almighty God rightly. These if thou dost examine with exquisite diligence, thou wilt find to be so many in number, that they will exceed the hairs of thy head; for in this time thou leadest the life of a heathen, ignorant of the divine power, and as it were without any knowledge of his sacred Deity.

Then consider how thou hast behaved thyself about the ten commandments, and the seven deadly sins, and thou wilt find, that there is no precept of Almighty God, which thou hast not violated, nor any mortal sin, into which thou hast not fallen, either in thought, word, or deed. After that, call to mind Almighty God's benefits, which he hath bestowed upon thee in the whole course of thy former life, and see whether thou canst give a good account of them or no.

Tell me, I pray thee, how thou hast consumed the days of thy infancy, thy youth, and the flower of thy manly age? how hast thou employed thy five exterior senses, and inward faculties of thy soul, given unto thee by God, only to be busied about his holy service, and the contemplation of heavenly things; what hast thou turned thine eyes unto, but to behold vanities? what have thine ears listened after, but lies and tales! what hath thy tongue uttered, but murmurings and blasphemous speeches? what hath thy taste and feeling been delighted in, but wanton pleasures? how hast thou used the remedy of the holy Sacraments, given unto thee as a singular gift? what thanksgiving hast thou restored for so many benefits which he hath heaped upon thee? what alacrity hast thou used to satisfy his holy inspirations? how hast thou spent thy health of body and natural forces? how hast thou dispensed thy goods of fortune? what good use hast thou made of the commodity, and proffered occasions to live well? what care hast thou had of thy neighbor's welfare? what works of mercy, or of bounty, hast thou done unto them? what wilt thou answer in that terrible day of judgment, when thou must render a severe account of all these things! O withered tree, destinated to eternal flames, except thou dost penance! what excuse wilt thou then frame, when thou must give an account of every year, of every month, of every week, of every day, of every moment!

Thirdly, consider, those sins, which thou hast every day committed, after Almighty God hath illuminated and opened the eyes of thy soul to meditate upon heavenly things; and thou shalt find that the old Adam hath yet borne a great sway in thy actions, and that sinful root to have procreated in thee, many and perverse habits.

Diligently ponder, how ungrateful thou hast been to Almighty God, how unmindful of his benefits, how contrary thou hast behaved thyself against his holy inspirations, how slothful and remiss in his divine service; in which thou scarce hast ever used due alacrity and diligence, or such purity of intention as is requisite, nay, hast thou not served God for worldly respects and commodity?

Enter into consideration how rigid thou art to thy neighbor, and how indulgent to thyself? how thou lovest thy own will, how thou adherest to thy sensuality, how chary of thy honor, and of every thing that belongeth unto thee. Weigh well with thyself, how every day thou growest more arrogant, more ambitious, more vain, more prone to anger, more desperately bent to malice, more prone to delights and pleasures, more mutable, more unconstant, more propense to carnal sins and a greater lover of earthly vanities. Consider thy inconstancy in good, thy indiscretion in words, imprudence in deeds, in high and difficult matters pusillanimity sometimes, and often audacious temerity.

In the fourth place, after thou hast taken notice of the number and order of thy sins, pause upon them a while in thy mind, and weigh every one in the balance of due consideration, that thou mayest perceive with what misery thou art on every side environed. Which, that thou mayest the better do; consider these three circumstances in the sins of thy former life. First, against whom thou hast sinned. Second, why thou hast sinned. Third, how thou hast sinned. Which, if thou dost diligently penetrate, thou wilt find that thou hast offended God, whose majesty and goodness is immense, who hath obliged man unto him with so many benefits, as there are sands in the sea, or drops of water in the ocean.

Why hast thou sinned, or what violent occasion hath enforced thee to any crime? a little momentary pride; a foul representation of pleasure; some small commodity placed in thy sight, and oftentimes no occasion at all, but evil custom, and mere contempt of God.

But alas, how hast thou sinned? with such facility, with such notable audacity, with so little fear and conscience, yea with such serenity and pleasure, as though thou hadst to do with no other than a wooden God, who regardeth not these sublunary things, neither understandeth nor seeth any thing what is done on the face of earth. Is this the honor due unto his supreme Majesty? is this a renumeration of his benefits? dost thou with such services requite his whippings, his buffetings, and precious blood shed upon the cross for thy sake? O wicked wretch, that hast offended so great a majesty, more miserable, that for so slight a cause, and most deplorable, that thou art not sensible of thy utter ruin: that after sin thou fearest not damnation, and so neglectest to do penance.

Moreover, it is very profitable, to insist a while upon this consideration, and that thou esteem thyself nothing, and certainly persuade thyself that thou hast nothing of thyself but sin; all other things to be the gifts of Almighty God's bounty. For it is most evident, that all our good, both of grace and nature doth flow from him; for he is the author of the grace of predestination (which is the fountain and original of all others) of the grace of our vocation, of concomitant and preserving grace, and of the grace of everlasting life. What hast thou then, that thou canst boast of, but sin? only this, nothing thou canst attribute to thyself, all other things belong to God: whence thou mayest clearly and manifestly perceive what he is, and what thou art, and hence conjecture, what diffidence thou oughtest to have in thyself, and what confidence in God, to love him, and to glorify thyself in him, and not in thyself, but so far as his grace doth freely operate in thee.

These things being digested with attentive meditation, as much as thou canst, urge thyself to a contempt of thyself: imagine that thou art like an empty reed, shaken with every blast of wind, without gravity, without virtue, without constancy, without stability, and, finally, without any thing. Think thyself to be a Lazarus four days dead, a stinking and abominable carcass, swarming with vermin, so filthy that passers by, are forced to stop their nostrils, lest they smell such a nasty savour. Believe me, thou art more abominable before God and his holy saints. Think thyself unworthy to lift up thine eyes to heaven; to tread upon the earth, or that the creatures should serve thee; yea, not worthy to eat bread or breathe in the air. Cast thyself, with the sinful women in the gospel, at our Blessed Saviour's feet; presenting thyself unto him with a confused and blushing countenance, no otherwise than the woman taken in adultery before her husband, and with inward sorrow and true compunction, beg pardon for thy sins: that, for his infinite mercy and goodness, he would vouchsafe to receive thee again into his favor, and that thou mayest dwell in his house for ever.

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A MEDITATION FOR TUESDAY

This day thou shalt meditate upon the miseries of the life of man, out of which consideration, thou wilt take notice of worldly vanities, and learn how much glory of them ought to be despised, seeing they are built upon so weak a foundation as our fading life, whose miseries, because they be innumerable, thou shalt take but seven of the principal for thy meditation.

First, therefore, consider the shortness of the life of man, being restrained within the limits of threescore and ten, or fourscore years, whatsoever the overplus be, it is but labor and sorrow, as the Prophet speaketh: Out of this time, if thou dost subtract thy infancy, which time thou didst live rather the life of a beast than a man; the time thou spendest in sleep, for then thou art deprived of the use of reason, which only distinguisheth man from other creatures, and thou wilt find thy life to be far shorter than ever thou didst imagine. This time if thou dost compare with the eternity of the world to come, thou wilt find it to be less than a moment. Conjecture, then, the foolish madness of the lovers of this world, who, that they might enjoy one only momentary pleasure of this transitory life, do not fear to expose themselves to the loss of eternity.

Then take to thy consideration the uncertainty of this life, (which is a second misery) for not only it is most short, but the brevity itself is most uncertain and doubtful. For who is there, that attaineth to the age of three, or four score? how many are extinguished at their very entrance into the world? how many perish in the flower of their youth? You know it not, saith Christ, when your Lord is to come; whether in the first watch, or second, or third, or in the cock-crowing. Which, that thou mayest the better understand, call to mind especially thy domestic friends, and other men placed in dignity and authority, whom inexorable death have, at divers ages, (some younger, some older) suddenly taken out of this world, dissipating their vain and long-life promising hopes.

Ponder, fourthly, the inconstancy and mutability of this present life, never continuing in one state. The disposition of the body often changeth, not always enjoying health, but subject to frequent diseases; but if thou reflect upon the mind, thou shalt see, that, like the troubled ocean, it is tossed up and down with the boisterous winds of her untamed passions, inordinate appetites, fluctuating cogitations, which upon every occasion do disturb her quiet. Consider, lastly, the instability of the goods of fortune, as they term them, to how many chances they are obnoxious, never suffering the temporal substance to stand still in one stay, thereby to make men happy and prosperous; but, like a wheel, is turned upside down, without any intermission. Consider, also, the continual motion of our life, never resting night nor day, but goeth forward without ceasing, and every day more and more wasteth itself; so that it may not unfitly be compared to a candle, which, by little and little, consumeth itself, and when it giveth the clearest light, the sooner it approacheth unto its end; also to a flower, which springeth up in the morning, at noon fadeth, and at night wholly withereth away. Which Almighty God, speaking by the Prophet Isaiah of this mutation, excellently shadoweth in these words: "Omnis caro foenum, et omnis gloria ejus quasi flos agri:" " All flesh is hay, and all the glory of it is like the flower of the field."

Which words, St. Jerome expounding, saith:[1] If one doth rightly consider the frailty of the flesh, and that we grow and decrease according to the moments of hours; never remaining in one state, and that the very thing we now speak, do, or write, passeth away as part of our life, he will not doubt to confess that all flesh is hay, and the glory thereof as a flower, or the green meadows. He that is now an infant will, by and by, be a little child, then presently a young man, growing towards his decrepid age, through uncertain seasons, and before he hath contented himself in youth, feeleth old age to come upon him. The beautiful woman which did draw after her whole troops of gallants in her youth, her face is now furrowed with deformed wrinkles, and she that before was a pleasure, is now ugly to behold.

Consider fifthly, how deceitful this life is, (which is the worst condition of all, deluding the lovers of this world with a miserable blindness,) for we think it amiable, when in itself it is ugly: we think it sweet, when it is full of gall and bitterness: when it is circumscribed within the shortest limits, we think it long. When it is full of misery, we think it so happy, that there is no danger, no hazard, that men will not expose themselves unto, for the conservation of it: yea, with the loss of eternal glory, when they do not fear to commit those sins which make them unworthy of so great felicity.

Consider sixthly, that besides the brevity, and other fore-mentioned conditions, that small time wherein we live, is subject to innumerable miseries, both spiritual and corporal: that it may well be called a torrent of tears, and ocean of infinite molestations. St. Jerome reporteth how Xerxes, that potent king, who overturned mountains, and made bridges over the seas, when, from a high place, he beheld that infinite multitude of men, and his innumerable army, he wept, to think that not one of those men there present, should be alive after a hundred years. And presently adding, O that we could but ascend into such a turret, to behold the whole earth under our feet, then would I manifest unto thee, the ruins of the world; nation rising against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; some tormented, others slain, some drowned, others led into captivity. Here marrying, here mourning, some born, others dying, some abounding in wealth, others begging. And not only the mighty army of Xerxes, but all the men of the world, in a short space, to be turned to dust and ashes.

Take notice, a little of the labors and infirmities of the body, the cogitations and passions of the mind; the diverse dangers in every state, and all seasons threatening the ruin of man; and thou wilt every day, more clearly understand the miseries of this life, that when thou seest what is to be hoped for in this world, thou mayest with a noble courage contemn it.

The last of all these miseries, is death, both in respect of soul or body, a thing most terrible, for in this moment the body is disrobed of all things in this world. And the soul in this point receiveth the joyful or fearful sentence of eternity.

These things well considered, thou wilt be instructed how short and miserable the glory of this world is, and how it ought to be hated and despised of thee.


1. Hieron. 1. ii. Com. in Isa. cap. 40.

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A MEDITATION FOR WEDNESDAY

This day thou shalt meditate on death: the consideration of which, is very profitable to attain unto true wisdom, to beat down sin, and to excite men timely to cast up their accounts, which they are to make in the latter day.

Consider, first, the uncertainty of that hour, wherein death is to seize upon thee, thou knowest not the day, nor the place, nor the state wherein it shall find thee; only thou believest that thou must die, for other things thou art wholly ignorant of, except that it sometimes setteth upon a man when he little dreameth of it, and thinketh it to be furthest of

Consider, secondly, that grievous separation, which shall be at the point of death, not only from every thing of this present life, wherein thou lookest content, but also betwixt the- soul and body, whose society was most ancient, most loving and dear. If a man taketh it grievously to be banished, to be thrust out of his native soil, and to be deprived of that air wherein he first breathed, although he should carry all others, his dearest things with him, how far more bitterly would he take that general exile, wherein he most weaned from all worldly things, his house, his means, his father, his mother, his children, his friends, uncertain whither he himself must go. Then, shall he be deprived of the light and the commerce of all human creatures?

If the ox when he is disjoined from his fellow, with whom he was wont in the same yoke to be coupled, with bellowing doth express his sorrow, what sobs, what sighs wilt thou fetch, when thou shalt perceive thyself to be violently pulled from these thy confederates.

Consider, also, that anxiety wherewith the mind of the dying is tormented, when abstracted from all corporal business, he only thinketh what shall become of his body, and what shall betide his soul, how his body must be cast seven foot into the earth, to be eaten of worms; and what will become of his soul, where it is to remain, he is altogether uncertain; which cogitation doth surely much trouble the mind of him that dieth, when he certainly knoweth there is heaven or hell to be expected, and he, at equal distance, from them both, neither can he tell which of these two contraries will fall to his share.

Another no less affliction followeth, that presently he must give a strict account of all his forepassed life, to the eternal judge, which men of great sanctity were wont to fear, when Arsenius in the last point of life, was seen of his disciples to weep and tremble, they asked him why he feared death, he answered: Revera filioli, metus hie quo me videtis affiei nunquam omnino a me recessil ex quo factus sum Monachtis. Indeed, my children, the fear wherewith ye see me now afflicted, hath quite left me from the time I was first made a monk.

Then all the sins of a man's former life come rushing into his memory, representing themselves unto him, as it were in battle array, to destroy him, but especially, his grievous sins wherein he took greatest delight, are continually present to his fancy, which do so torment him that they drive him into a dangerous despair of his salvation, and the remembrance of those pleasures, which before were grateful, are now most bitter unto him. That the wise man saith true:[1] "Ne intuaris vinum quando flavescit cum splenduerit in vitro color ejus ingreditur hlaiide, et novissimo mordehit ut coluber, et sicut regulus venema difftundet." "Behold not wine when it waxeth yellow, when the color thereof shall shine in the glass; it goeth in pleasantly, but in the end it will bite like a snake, and as a basilisk it spreads abroad his passions."

Such a poisoned cup the enemy of mankind presenteth to the lovers of the world to drink. Such is the liquor of the outward gilded cup of Babylon.

Wicked man seeing himself environed with so many accusers, beginneth then to fear the success of his latter judgment, and to bewail himself with bitter outcries, O miserable and unhappy man that have lived thus long in darkness, and walked in the footsteps of iniquity, what shall now become of me? if St. Paul saith[2] such as a man soweth, such he shall reap. T that have sowed nothing else but the works of the flesh, what should I expect but corruption?

If St. John saith, that no unclean thing shall enter into that heavenly city, which is paved with burnished gold, what part shall I have therein, that am defiled with all kind of luxury.

Then follow the sacraments of the church: confession, communion, extreme unction, which are the last helps of our holy mother the Catholic Church, to succor his dying soul.

From all these aforesaid circumstances, thou mayest gather with what anxiety a wicked man is oppressed at the hour of his departure. Then he will wish that he had led a better life, and what great austerity he would use if longer time might be permitted to him. Then would he vehemently implore the divine assistance, but the greatness of his infirmity, and the pangs of death approaching, will not suffer him, which will be so great that he shall scarce be able to turn his thoughts upon God.

Behold, after these, the symptoms of this last infirmity, forerunners of death, and harbingers of thy last end, which certainly in themselves are horrible, and to the beholders terrible. The stomach swelleth, the speech faileth, the feet begin to die, the knees wax cold, the nostrils fall, the eyes sink, the face waxeth pale, the tongue can no longer perform its office; finally, the striving of the soul going out of the body, disturbeth all the senses, and leaveth them wholly without vigor.

But who is able to express the anguish of the soul, which is far greater? for then it is in a mighty agony, both in regard of the doubtful event of her salvation, and of the strict account she is presently to make of the deeds of her whole life; as also, because she naturally loveth the body; she cannot be separated from it but with great affliction, especially, knowing not what shall become of her.

Having well contemplated the soul departing the body, thou must yet make two journies more: one in accompanying the body to the grave, the other in following the soul to the deciding of her cause. And thou shalt see the event of both. Mark, therefore, the dead carcass how they prepare a winding sheet for it. What expedition they use to carry it out of the house. Consider the solemnity and rites wherewith it is carried to the grave. How the bells ring, and every one inquire of the dead. The office of the church also, the prayers of the standers by, the doleful tune of the church, while the body is carried to the grave and buried. The tears of friends and kindred, and all those ceremonies which are wont to be performed about the dead.

Leaving the body under the earth, accompany the soul passing to a new and unknown region, where she expecteth the sentence of the eternal judge. Imagine with thyself that thou art present at this tribunal, and the whole court of heaven, waiting with deep silence, and great attention, the event and sentence of this judgment, here must be given a strict account of all receivings and disbursements. I say account, of thy life, of thy goods, of thy family, of the divine inspirations, of the means and occasions to live well, and finally, of the blood of Jesus Christ, and the use of his sacraments, and according as his account is, so the sentence shall be pronounced.


1. Proverbs, xxiii.
2.  Gal, vi.

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A MEDITATION FOR THURSDAY

This day thou shalt meditate upon the latter judgment, to the end, that thou mayest stir up in thy soul two principal effects, which every Christian soul ought to have, to wit, the fear of God and hatred of sin.

Place, therefore, first before thine eyes, how terrible that day will be, wherein all the litigious causes of the sons of Adam shall be decided, and a final end put to the processes of our whole life, and what shall be ordained of those for all eternity, shall be publicly pronounced to the view of the whole world.

This day comprehendeth in it, all the days of all ages, past, present, and to come; and exacteth a severe account of all the actions of all men, pouring out all the fury upon men, heaped up together from forepassed ages; because then the torrent of Almighty God's vengeance shall overflow beyond its limits, rushing with a greater violence, by how much more it was the longer detained, and at once shall overwhelm all iniquity from the creation of the world.

Consider, secondly, the dreadful signs which shall go before this day. For our Saviour saith: Erunt signa in sole, et luna, et stellis.[1] And all creatures of heaven and earth shall tremble, understanding their ruin to be at hand. Men also, as our Saviour saith, worn and withered away, perceiving the horrible raging of the sea; and they, themselves, scarce a hair's breadth distant from death. Seeing also, the mighty risings and inundations of the water; and by these conjecturing the calamities and misery these prodigious signs threaten to the world, will be amazed with such a horror, that they will be without life, without voice, without color, or human shape; they will be dead before they die, dreading their damnation before the sentence be pronounced, imagining the future pain, by their present distemper. Then every one out of exceeding fear, will be so solicitous of himself, that he will nothing regard others whosoever they be, parents, or husbands, or wives, or friends, or companions.

Imagine, thirdly, the universal deluge of fire, which shall go before this judgment; that dreadful noise of the trumpet, which one of the archangels shall blow, wherewith all the people of the whole world shall be summoned together, in one place, making their appearance before the judgment seat; and last of all, that dreadful majesty, the supreme judge of the quick and dead, shall assume to himself upon this tribunal.

Fourthly, consider, what exact account shall be required of every one. Holy Job saith: "Vere scio quod ita sit: et quod non justificelur homo compositifs Deo. Si voluerit contendere cum eo, non potent ei respondere unum pro mille."[2] "Indeed, I know it is so, and that man cannot be justified, compared with God. If he will contend with him, he cannot answer him one for a thousand." What then shall become of man, when God shall begin to handle him according to the rigor of his justice, when he shall speak to his conscience inwardly?

O wicked and perverse man, what hast thou seen in me, that out of the height of impiety, despising me, thou shouldst join with my enemies! I have created thee according to mine own image and likeness: I have illuminated thee with the light of faith: I have seasoned thee in the Christian faith from thy infancy: I have redeemed thee with my own blood: for thy sake I have fasted, watched, prayed, undergone tedious journies, sweat blood, and endured many more miseries in the course of my life: for the love of thee, I have suffered persecutions, injuries, blasphemies, and the very cross itself. This cross is my witness, these nails my witnesses, which thou seest imprinted in my hands and feet: to conclude, heaven and earth that did behold my passion are my witnesses. How I have drawn thy soul. How I have redeemed thee with the ransom of my precious blood.

How hast thou esteemed this precious pearl? bought by me with an inestimable price. O generation of vipers, why hast thou chosen to serve my enemy with a great deal of pain, and neglected thy duty towards me, thy Creator, and Redeemer, which thou mightest have performed with a great deal of pleasure. I have called thee, and thou wouldst not answer to my vocation. I have knocked at the door of thy heart, and thou hast refused me entrance. I have stretched my arms upon the cross, and thou hast not regarded me, thou despiseth my counsels, promises, and threatenings. Pronounce, therefore, ye angels, the sentence, and be judges betwixt me and my vineyard. "Quid est quod debui uttra facere vineae meae ut non feci ei?" " What is there that I ought to do more to my vineyard, that I have not done to it."[3]

What will the reprobate and scoffers at divine mysteries answer? they that have hissed at virtue, derided simplicity, and observed better the laws of the world than of God; they that have stopped their ears at the voice of God; they who have contemned bis divine inspirations; they who have been rebellious against his commandments, and ungrateful for his benetits. What will those libertines say, who letting themselves loose to all vices, have lived as if there were no God at all, or that he did not regard the things that are done below. What will those say, who have followed their commodities, gust, and pleasure for a law, "Quid facietis in die visitaiionis et calamitatis de longe venientis, ad cujus confuegietis auxilium? et ubi derelinquetis gloriam vestram ut non incurvimiiii sub vinculo et cum interjectis cadatis?" What will ye do in the day of visitation and of calamity coming from afar? To whose help will ye flee, and where will ye leave your glory, that ye be not bowed under the bond, and fall with the slain?"

Fifthly, consider, that terrible sentence, which, after judgment, the supreme Judge pronounceth against the wicked; which he will thunder out with such a dreadful noise, that at the sound thereof, the ears of the standers by will ring, as the prophet Isaias saith:[4] "Labia ejus repleta sunt indignatione, et Ihigua ejus quasi ignis devorans." "His lips are filled with indignation, and his tongue as a devouring fire." For what flannes can be so ardent as those words: "Discedite a me maledicti in ignum esternum,qui paratiis est Diabolo et angelis ejus." " Go from me, O ye cursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the Devil and his angels." Every word of which sentence, is full of bitter torment. For who is able to comprehend what this separation is, what curse, what fire, what society, and, finally, what eternity, to which the wicked are adjudged by force of this sentence?


1. Luc. c. xxi. v. 25
2. Job c. ix. v. 23
3. Isa, v. 3,4
4. Isa. xxx 27