CHAPTER XXYTL

On that happy Magdalene’s day my soul was per¬
fectly delivered from all its pains. It had already begun
since the receipt of the first letter from Father La
Combe, to recover a new life. It was then indeed only
like that of a dead person raised, though not yet
unbound from his grave-clothes. But on this day I
was, as it were, in perfect life, and set wholly at liberty.
I then found myself as much raised above nature, as
before I had been depressed under its burden. I was
inexpressibly overjoyed to find him, whom I thought I
had lost forever, returned to me again with unspeak¬
able magnificence and purity. It was then, O my God,
that I found again in thee with new advantages, in an
ineffable manner, all I had been deprived of; and the
peace I now possessed was all holy, heavenly and inex¬
pressible; all I had enjoyed before was only a peace,
a gift of God, but now I received and possessed the
God of peace. Yet the remembrance of my past mis¬
eries still brought a fear upon me, lest nature should
find means to take to itself any pail therein. As soon
as it wanted to see or taste anything, the Spirit ever
watchful crossed and repelled it. I was far from eleva¬
ting myself then, or attributing to myself anything of
this new state; for my experience made me sensible of
what I was.

I hoped I should enjoy this happy state for some
time, but little did I think my happiness so great and

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immutable as it was. If one may judge of a good by
the trouble which precedes it, I leave mine to be
judged of by the sorrows I had undergone before my
attaining it. The Apostle Paul tells us, that “ the suf¬
ferings of this life are not to be compared with the glory
that is prepared for us/’ How true is that even of this
life ? One day of this happiness was worth more than
years of suffering. It was, indeed, at that time well
worth all I had undergone, though it was then only
dawning. An alacrity for doing good was restored to
me, greater than ever. It seemed to me all quiet, free
and natural to me. At the beginning, this liberty was
less extensive; but as I advanced it grew still greater.
I had occasion to see Mon. Bertot for a few moments,
and told him, I thought my state much changed, hav¬
ing scarcely time to tell him any more. He, seemingly
attentive to something else, answered, “No.” I be¬
lieved him; for grace taught me to prefer the judg¬
ment of others, and rather believe them than my own
opinions or experience. This did not give me any
kind of trouble; for every state seemed equally indif¬
ferent if I only had the favor of God. I felt a kind of
beatitude every day increasing in me. I did all sorts
of good, without selfishness or premeditation. When¬
ever a self-reflective thought was presented to my
mind, it was instantly rejected, and as it were a curtain
in the soul drawn before it. My imagination was kept
so fixed, that I had now very little trouble on that
head. I wondered at the clearness of my mind and
the purity of my whole heart.

I received a letter from Father La Combe, wherein
he wrote that God had discovered to him that he had
great designs in regard to me. “Let them be,” then

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said I to myself, “either of justice or mercy, all is
equal to me.” I still had Geneva deeply at heart; but
said nothing of it to anybody, waiting for God to make
known to me his all powerful will, and fearing lest any
stratagem of the devil should be concealed therein,
that might tend to draw me out of my proper place, or
steal me out of my condition. The more I saw my
own misery, incapacity and nothingness, the plainer it
appeared that they rendered me fitter for the designs
of God, whatever they might be. “Oh, my Lord,”
said I, “take the weak and the wretched to do thy
works, that thou mayest have all the glory of them,
and that man may attribute nothing of them to him¬
self. If thou shouldst take a person of eminence and
great talents, one might attribute to him something
thereof; but if thou takest me, it will be manifest that
thou alone art the author of whatever good shall be
done.” I continued quiet in my spirit, leaving the
whole affair to God, being satisfied, if he should re¬
quire anything of me, that he would furnish me with
the means of performing it. I held myself in readiness
with a full resolution to execute his orders, whenever
he should make them known, though it were to the
laying down of my life. I was released from all crosses.
I resumed my care of the sick, and dressing of wounds,
and God gave me to cure the most desperate. When
surgeons could do no more, or were going to cut off
limbs, it was then that God made me cure them.

Oh, the joy that accompanied me everywhere, find¬
ing still him who had united me to himself, in his own
immensity and boundless vastitude! Oh, how truly
did I experience what he said in the Gospel, by the
four Evangelists, and by one of them twice over, “Who-

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soever will lose liis life for my sake shall find it; and
whosoever will save his life shall lose it.”

When I had lost all created supports, and even
divine ones, I then found myself happily compelled to
fall into the pure divine, and to fall into it through all
those very things which seemed to remove me further
from it. In losing all the gifts, with all their supports,
I found the Giver. In losing the sense and perception
of thee in myself — I found thee, 0 my God, to lose
thee no more in thyself, in thy own immutability. Oh,
poor creatures, who pass all your time in feeding upon
the gifts of God, and think therein to be the most
favored and happy, how I pity you if you stop here*
short of the true rest, and cease to go forward to God
himself, through the loss of those cherished gifts
which you now delight in. How many pass all their
lives in this way, and think highly of themselves there¬
in ! There are others who being called of God to die
to themselves, yet pass all their time in a dying life,
and in inward agonies, without ever entering into God,
through death and a total loss of self, because they are
always willing to retain something under plausible
pretexts, and so never lose themselves to the whole
extent of the designs of God. Wherefore, they never
enjoy God in all his fulness; which is a loss that cannot
be perfectly known in this life.

Oh, my Lord, what happiness did I not largely
taste in my solitude, and with my little family, where
nothing interrupted my tranquillity ! As I was in the
country, and the slender age of my children did not
require my application too much, they being in good
hands, I retired a great part of the day into a wood,
where I passed as many days of happiness as I had

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had months of sorrow. Thou, O my God, dealt by me
as by thy servant Job, rendering me double for all
thou hadst taken from me, and delivering me from all
my crosses. Thou gavest me a marvellous facility to
satisfy everyone. What was surprising now, was that
my mother-in-law, who had ever been complaining of
me, without my doing anything more than usual to
please her, declared now that none could be better
satisfied with me than she was. Such as before had
cried me down the most, now testified their sorrow for
it, and became full of my praises. My reputation was
established with much more advantage, in proportion
as it had appeared to be lost. I remained in an entire
peace, as well without as within. It seemed to me that
my soul was become like that New Jerusalem, spoken
of in the Apocalypse, prepared as a bride for her hus¬
band, and where there is no more sorrow, or sighing.
I had a perfect indifference to everything that is here,
and an union so great with the good will of God, that
my own will seemed entirely lost. My soul could not
incline itself on one side or the other, since another
will had taken the place of its own, but only nourished
itself with the daily providences of God. It now found
a will all divine, which yet was so natural and easy to
it, that it found itself infinitely more free in this than
ever it had been in its own.

These dispositions have still subsisted, and still
grown stronger, and more perfect even to this hour.
I could neither desire one thing nor another, but was
content with whatever fell out, without making any
reflection thereupon, or giving any attention thereto,
except when any in the house asked me, “Will you
have this, or that?” And then I was surprised to

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find that there was nothing left in me which could
desire or choose. I was as if everything, of smaller
matters, quite disappeared, a higher power having
taken up and filled all their room. I even perceived
no more that soul which he had formerly conducted
by his crook and his staff, because now he alone
appeared to me, my soul having given up its place to
him. It seemed to me, as if it was wholly and alto¬
gether passed into its God, to make but one and the
same thing with him; even as a little drop of water,
cast into the sea, receives the qualities of the sea. Oh,
union of unity, demanded of God by Jesus Christ for
men, and merited by him ! How strong is this in a
soul that is become lost in its God ! After the con¬
summation of this divine unity, the soul remains hid
with Christ in God. This happy loss is not like those
transient ones which ecstacy operates, which are rather
an absorption than union, for the soul afterwards finds
itself again with all its own dispositions. But here she
feels that prayer fulfilled — John xvii. 21: “That they
all may be one as thou Father art in me, and I in thee;
that they also may be one in us.”

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THE UFE OF MADAME GUYON.