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- confessions
- text
- truth; I fear to deceive myself; lest mine iniquity lie unto itself.
Therefore I contend not in judgment with Thee; for if Thou, Lord,
shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall abide it?
Yet suffer me to speak unto Thy mercy, me, dust and ashes. Yet suffer me
to speak, since I speak to Thy mercy, and not to scornful man. Thou too,
perhaps, despisest me, yet wilt Thou return and have compassion upon me.
For what would I say, O Lord my God, but that I know not whence I
came into this dying life (shall I call it?) or living death. Then
immediately did the comforts of Thy compassion take me up, as I heard
(for I remember it not) from the parents of my flesh, out of whose
substance Thou didst sometime fashion me. Thus there received me the
comforts of woman's milk. For neither my mother nor my nurses stored
their own breasts for me; but Thou didst bestow the food of my infancy
through them, according to Thine ordinance, whereby Thou distributest
Thy riches through the hidden springs of all things. Thou also gavest me
to desire no more than Thou gavest; and to my nurses willingly to give
me what Thou gavest them. For they, with a heaven-taught affection,
willingly gave me what they abounded with from Thee. For this my good
from them, was good for them. Nor, indeed, from them was it, but through
them; for from Thee, O God, are all good things, and from my God is all
my health. This I since learned, Thou, through these Thy gifts, within
me and without, proclaiming Thyself unto me. For then I knew but to
suck; to repose in what pleased, and cry at what offended my flesh;
nothing more.
Afterwards I began to smile; first in sleep, then waking: for so it
was told me of myself, and I believed it; for we see the like in other
infants, though of myself I remember it not. Thus, little by little, I
became conscious where I was; and to have a wish to express my wishes
to those who could content them, and I could not; for the wishes were
within me, and they without; nor could they by any sense of theirs enter
within my spirit. So I flung about at random limbs and voice, making
the few signs I could, and such as I could, like, though in truth very
little like, what I wished. And when I was not presently obeyed (my
wishes being hurtful or unintelligible), then I was indignant with my
elders for not submitting to me, with those owing me no service, for
not serving me; and avenged myself on them by tears. Such have I learnt
infants to be from observing them; and that I was myself such, they, all
unconscious, have shown me better than my nurses who knew it.
And, lo! my infancy died long since, and I live. But Thou, Lord, who for
ever livest, and in whom nothing dies: for before the foundation of the
worlds, and before all that can be called "before," Thou art, and art
God and Lord of all which Thou hast created: in Thee abide, fixed
for ever, the first causes of all things unabiding; and of all things
changeable, the springs abide in Thee unchangeable: and in Thee live the
eternal reasons of all things unreasoning and temporal. Say, Lord, to
me, Thy suppliant; say, all-pitying, to me, Thy pitiable one; say, did
my infancy succeed another age of mine that died before it? was it
that which I spent within my mother's womb? for of that I have heard
somewhat, and have myself seen women with child? and what before that
life again, O God my joy, was I any where or any body? For this have I
none to tell me, neither father nor mother, nor experience of others,
nor mine own memory. Dost Thou mock me for asking this, and bid me
praise Thee and acknowledge Thee, for that I do know?
I acknowledge Thee, Lord of heaven and earth, and praise Thee for my
first rudiments of being, and my infancy, whereof I remember nothing;
for Thou hast appointed that man should from others guess much as to
himself; and believe much on the strength of weak females. Even then I
had being and life, and (at my infancy's close) I could seek for signs
whereby to make known to others my sensations. Whence could such a being
be, save from Thee, Lord? Shall any be his own artificer? or can there
elsewhere be derived any vein, which may stream essence and life into
us, save from thee, O Lord, in whom essence and life are one? for Thou
Thyself art supremely Essence and Life. For Thou art most high, and art
not changed, neither in Thee doth to-day come to a close; yet in Thee
doth it come to a close; because all such things also are in Thee. For
they had no way to pass away, unless Thou upheldest them. And since
Thy years fail not, Thy years are one to-day. How many of ours and
our fathers' years have flowed away through Thy "to-day," and from it
received the measure and the mould of such being as they had; and still
others shall flow away, and so receive the mould of their degree of
being. But Thou art still the same, and all things of tomorrow, and all
beyond, and all of yesterday, and all behind it, Thou hast done to-day.
What is it to me, though any comprehend not this? Let him also rejoice
and say, What thing is this? Let him rejoice even thus! and be content
rather by not discovering to discover Thee, than by discovering not to
discover Thee.
Hear, O God. Alas, for man's sin! So saith man, and Thou pitiest him;
for Thou madest him, but sin in him Thou madest not. Who remindeth me of
the sins of my infancy? for in Thy sight none is pure from sin, not even
the infant whose life is but a day upon the earth. Who remindeth me?
doth not each little infant, in whom I see what of myself I remember
not? What then was my sin? was it that I hung upon the breast and cried?
for should I now so do for food suitable to my age, justly should I be
laughed at and reproved. What I then did was worthy reproof; but since
I could not understand reproof, custom and reason forbade me to be
reproved. For those habits, when grown, we root out and cast away. Now
no man, though he prunes, wittingly casts away what is good. Or was
it then good, even for a while, to cry for what, if given, would hurt?
bitterly to resent, that persons free, and its own elders, yea, the very
authors of its birth, served it not? that many besides, wiser than it,
obeyed not the nod of its good pleasure? to do its best to strike and
hurt, because commands were not obeyed, which had been obeyed to its
hurt? The weakness then of infant limbs, not its will, is its innocence.
Myself have seen and known even a baby envious; it could not speak, yet
it turned pale and looked bitterly on its foster-brother. Who knows not
this? Mothers and nurses tell you that they allay these things by I know
not what remedies. Is that too innocence, when the fountain of milk
is flowing in rich abundance, not to endure one to share it, though
in extremest need, and whose very life as yet depends thereon? We bear
gently with all this, not as being no or slight evils, but because they
will disappear as years increase; for, though tolerated now, the very
same tempers are utterly intolerable when found in riper years.
Thou, then, O Lord my God, who gavest life to this my infancy,
furnishing thus with senses (as we see) the frame Thou gavest,
compacting its limbs, ornamenting its proportions, and, for its general
good and safety, implanting in it all vital functions, Thou commandest
me to praise Thee in these things, to confess unto Thee, and sing unto
Thy name, Thou most Highest. For Thou art God, Almighty and Good, even
hadst Thou done nought but only this, which none could do but Thou:
whose Unity is the mould of all things; who out of Thy own fairness
makest all things fair; and orderest all things by Thy law. This age
then, Lord, whereof I have no remembrance, which I take on others' word,
and guess from other infants that I have passed, true though the guess
be, I am yet loth to count in this life of mine which I live in this
world.