AN EPISTLE IN THE PERSON OF CHRIST TO THE FAITHFUL soul, written first by that learned LANSPERGIUS, and after translated into English by one of no small fame, whose good example of sufferance & living, hath and willbe a memorial unto his country and posterity for ever.  
Imprinted at An●erpe. ●▪ 5 9 ● Cum Privilegio▪   

TO THE FAITHFUL soule-loving Readers.  
Do here present to thy charitable regard (most courteous and Christian reader.) A spiritual Love-letter, written to the faith●●ll soul, in the person of Christ himself; ●●ich letter being first penned in Latin by 〈◊〉 learned Lanspergius, (who for his ver●es, justly deserved to be called justus) was ●●●erwards translated into our vulgar tongue ●●some one, as it seemeth of no vulgar sort; ●●ose style showeth him to be of so good mind 〈◊〉 judgement, (as his labours might rightly ●●e challenged better grace & fortune,) then ●●e published (as once they have been) without ●●face, (but not without blemish of a multiple of the Printers escapes,) & that which is ●●der them either of the other, to be in such sort ●●ressed, as very few and almost none of the ●●le press came to their designed view. ●y ●●nes whereof I can rightly resemble this more blessed then fortunate Epistle to Abra●ham going from the Chaldeans to joseph, 
●n. 12. 14 ●dem. 36  leaguing his cloak & flinging away from his master's wife, or to David barefooted and bareheaded flying from the face of his Son Absa●lon. 
Reg. 15.  And on the other side, I can no les●● fitly compare the wanton lovewrit toys (wit●● which the amorous of this humorous age a●● so much assotted) to the Idolatrous Chald●●ans, to joseph's unchaste and wanton mistr●● and to the unruly and wicked Absalon, 〈◊〉 (notwithstanding all their vanities) follow●● for a soon vading time, with all worldly fervours, having plenty of patrons to protect Favourites to receive and read them, and t● many by a great many (God knows) do m●● too too much reckoning of them. For cer●● if it be truly said that in the sacred scriptu●● and in all other good and Godly writers, G●● talketh and speaketh unto the readers. Th●● is no doubt but the devil in like manner speaks or talketh with such indiscreet wa●● timers, as do spend the precious accompter time, allotted them in this life to win h●● 〈◊〉, in reading profane and pernicious bab●●ments, which do draw (the more is the ●●tie) an infinite company to the bottomless 〈◊〉 of hell. Take therefore upon thee I be●●ch thee (friendly Reader) for thine own ●●e, to patronize this poor pamphlet, being as ●●ere but a handful of good and healthful ●tructions; Read them often and retain thē●●aies in thy remembrance, and (which shall afore thy greater avail.) Put them duly by all 〈◊〉 means thou mayest in perfect execution: ●●hall vice be loathed, and virtue beloved, 〈◊〉 self benefited, the writers and translators ●●uailes well recompensed, God glorified, & ●our labours most happily employed.   

A caveat to the Reader.  
HEnce Venus idle imps, hence, hence in haste,  
Here is no place for Cupid's fancies blind:  
All wanton eyes and ears which are unchaste,  
Are here unlike their base content to find:  
For only such as virtue have embraced:  
May here learn how to love, to live, to die,  
And after death to scale the lofty sky.   

Another to the same effect.  

WHo so in quiet calm of conscience clear,  
Have viewed with sound advise worlds wauer●● ioi●●  
And seen the snares, the cares, the sorry cheer,  
The hopes, the haps, the fears the great annoys:  
Which daily do to worldly minds befall,  
And fortune glad, and sad would daunt withal▪   

Let them draw near this Pamphlet to peruse,  
And they shall see the laws of perfect love:  
How sin to shun, and Godly life to choose,  
Which done: If they the weeds of vice remove,  
And ●ow the seeds of virtue here in grace,  
They may well hope in heaven to have a place.    

A DIALOGUE BETWIXT A Chrtstian, and Christ hanging on the Crosse.  Written into Latin by Marcus Marulus, & Translated into English. 
 CHRISTIAN. 
●Weet sovereign God, why mortal limbs,  
Upon thee didst thou take:  
●nd sliding down from top of sky,  
●in earth thy dwelling make.  CHRIST. 
That earthly man, whom error foul,  
had fond led a stray:  
By me might learn how be to heaven,  
might take the ready way.  CHRISTIAN. 
What forced thee, who always wert,  
from every sin so pure:  
Such grievous pains, and death with all,  
so gladly to endure.  CHRIST. 
The love I bore to man that him,  
whom sin had clogged so:  
Our blood (by clearing well) might make,  
above the stars to go.  CHRISTIAN. 
Why be thy arms so spread abroad,  
and s●trched out so far?  
And what's the cause (sweet Christ) thy feet,  
so close conjoined are.  CHRIST. 
'Cause every where from every coast,  
I divers nations call:  
And in one faith, with steadfast league,  
I do conjoin them all.  CHRISTIAN. 
But why with bended ne●ke dost thou,  
so bend thy sel●e likewise:  
And so on earth Fast fixed cast,  
thy countenance and eyes.  CHRIST. 
I monish men, that they may shun,  
with peevish pride to swell:  
And humbled necks, with sacred yoke,  
to daunt and govern well.  CHRISTIAN. 
Why is thy body naked so?  
and wherefore is thy hue:  
So dry and lean? and all thy limbs  
so stiff and stark to view?  CHRIST. 
I would that riot of the world,  
should hateful seem to thee:  
And that thou wouldst feel hunger, thirst,  
and poor estate with me.  CHRISTIAN. 
But whitish veil thy slender loins,  
doth compass round about:  
Doth hidden part admonish aught,  
resolve I pray this doubt.  CHRIST. 
Learn thou hereby that bodies chaste,  
do greatly me delight:  
And that I loathe that lawless love  
disclose foul things to sight.  CHRISTIAN. 
What do thy blows, bespittings, taunter,  
and cruel scourge tell:  
With Crown of thorns, and (of the Cross)  
the other torments fel.  CHRIST. 

That he must suffer each offence,  
and offer no annoy:  
Which quiet peace above the stars,  
desireth to enjoy.   

Life is but short, the labour light,  
most wished is the pay:  
The benefit is infinite,  
which never shall decay.   

But now if great rewards do not,  
at all with some prevail:  
Yet let them fear the banishment,  
of ever during Jail.   

The quenchless ●ire, the ugly dark,  
which never shall abate:  
The gnawing worm for aye, for aye,  
the bitter wretched state.   

The grisly groans, the sorrows sharp,  
the woeful weal-aday:  
The endless plaints, the cursed ill,  
which never will away.   

For such pains rest, for those whom now,  
lewd lust (which lasts small while)  
Enjoy, and with false flattering snares,  
deceitfully beguile.   

To greedy wretches vaunting wealth,  
to slothful sluggards case▪  
And cursed Venus' chamber work,  
the wanton crew to please.   

Sweet wine and dainty cates to such,  
as in their paunch delight:  
Pomp to the proud, and spoils to such,  
as hardy are in fight.   

The hapless rout enticed thus,  
with these decaitfull trains:  
Mindless of saving health do fall,  
to utter wrack and pains.   

And neither hear my counsel good,  
nor seek to follow me:  
And to conclude fear not my doom,  
how sharp so ere it be.   

That dreadful doom, when ere at last,  
that dismal day befall:  
That day of wrath, that day of wreck,  
and huge storm with all.   

When of the shaken firmament,  
the hideous clashing sound:  
Shall trouble stars with tumblings swift,  
and dash their globes on ground.   

When as the moon with blood-red lamp,  
the people shall affright:  
And globe of Sun draw in his beams  
depriving men of light.   

When all shall dread, and all the world,  
at once shall shaken be  
So as the quires Angelical,  
men may amazed see.   

Fire shall consume the world with noise,  
and crackling flash of flame:  
And earth and sea, and burning lamp,  
of fiery lump shall frame.   

Strait ways with dreadful majesty,  
with power and virtue great.  
Come I, and on a glistering cloud,  
will sit in indgment seat:   

There many thousand shall of Saint●,  
roundly environ me:  
Yea there of glorious Angels bright,  
shall many thousands be.   

Forthwith the Trumpet from above,  
shall ghastly noise sound out:  
Renting the earth, and raising up,  
the low infernal rout.   

The by and by shall all the dead,  
all up together rise:  
Whom earth so great, in womb so wide,  
did heretofore comprise.   

The multitude revived shall,  
before my throne be priest:  
Expecting there, with trembling fear,  
my dreadful doom and hest.   

For nothing shall be undiscust,  
nor hid: nor secret aught:  
No not the thing which any have,  
committed in their thought.   

There shall desert receive reward,  
the life which lives for aye:  
Or else the death which never more,  
shall have a dying day.   

Go too then wretches whom as yet,  
lewd error fettereth close  
Whilst that you may of fettered feet,  
the gives and chains unloose.   

Watch well that deadly sleep do not,  
your waking eyes oppress:  
Lest endless day of latest time,  
you slumbering do possess.   

Behold with how swift course the times,  
do slip and slide away:  
And how the flying hour admits,  
no manner let or stay.   

Happy is he who still his life,  
doth well and Godly spend:  
And thinks withal it shall forthwith,  
and in a moment end.   Conuertanter qui oderunt Zion.  

❀ THE TABLE OF THE Principal titles in this Epistle of our Saviour jesus, containing the chief and speciallest matters thereof.  

1 AN Epistle or exhortation of jesus Christ to the soul that is devoutly affected. Folio. 1  
2 A rule of spiritual life. fol. 23  
3 How we must mortify all unlawful desires and wicked inclinations, fol. 28  
4 How a man ought to govern his tongue. fol. 32  
5 Of the contemplative life, which is wholly withdrawn from the cares and affairs of this this present world. fol. 35  
6 How we ought to judge no man. fol. 38  
7 How we ought to fight against vice. fol. 43  
8 How we must fly the occasion of temptation. fol. 67  
9 When the spiritual temptations are to be conquered. fol. 70  
10 How we ought to take heed of envy. fol. 77  
11 How we must fly singularity. fol. ibid.  
12 Of the honour, reverence & worship which we ought to exhibit to the mother of God fol. 79.  
13. Of sensible devotion. fol. 84  
14. How we must prepare ourselves when we come to receive the blessed Sacrament. fol. 88  
15 Of discretion. fol. 94.  
16 How we ought in all things to conform ourselves unto Christ. fol. 100  
17 Of poverty. fol. 102  
18 Of humility. fol. 107  
19 How humility is to be obtained. fol. 109  
20 How we ought not to care for men's judgements. fol. 121  
21 Of obedience. fol. 129  
22 How we must mortify our own will and desire. fol. 137  
23 Of the consideration of God providence. fol. 148  
24 How we must bear adversity. fol. 156  
25 Of wanting of consolation. fol. 169  
26 Of inward quietness & meekness of heart. fol. 172  
27 Of the love which we should bear toward our neighbour. fol. 174  
28 Of the purity of the heart. fol. 178  
29 How we ought to refer all the good things we receive, to the goodness of God. fol. 185  
30 How divine inspirations ought to be observed, & the grace of God not neglected. fol. 192,  
31 How we must employ the gifts of God which we receive, to the benefit of others. fol. 199  
32 Of poverty in spirit. fol. 204  
33 Of the love of God. fol. 207  
34 Of the praise of God. fol. 222  
35 Of the exercise of the love and praise of God. fol. 233  
36 Of the transformation of a man. fol. 242  
37 The conclusion of the Epistle. fol. 252  
1 Two rules of direction for man's life. fol. 256  
2 An instruction or rule for such as be weak and imperfect, & but new beginners in God's service. fol. 264  
3 An other instruction or rule for such as with a more fervent zeal and spirit do earnestly labour to attain to perfection. fol. 268  
4 Verses for helping a man's memory, wherein are expressed the principal and speciallest points of those good lessons which are comprehended in these rules fol. 280  
● A very short exercise of love to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, the most blessed Trinity, and one true God. fol. 286  
● An Hymn of the life and passion of our Saviour Christ, made after the manner of the Alphabet. fol. 29  
7 A Hymn wherein the praise of all crea●ture, are offered up unto the Creator. fol. 30   
FINIS.   

AN EPISTLE OR EXhortation of jesus Christ to the soul, that is devoutly affected toward him, wherein are only contained certain divine inspirations, which will teach a man how to know himself, and instruct him in the perfection of true Piety.  
JESUS CHRIST THE Saviour of the world, and King of heaven and earth, being ready to embrace those that earnestly and truly desire his grace, with his merciful & fatherly arms, wisheth to his Spouse, that is, to the soul which loveth him (for whose sake he willingly suffered death that he might unite her to himself) all perfect and true felicity.  
O My dearly beloved Daughter I have spoken to thy heart by secret inspirations, but thou wouldst never give ear unto my motions, wherefore since thou didst care little to answer me, much less to obey me, I am enforced by the great love I bear thee, to write unto thee, that at the least thou mayest be content to read what thou didst neglect to hear, & by reading both better bear away my exhortation, and more deeply imprint it in thy mind. For that cha●ity which moved me to offer myself, not only to all danger, but even to death itself, for thy sake, will not suffer me to leave any thing undone that may tend to the furtherance of thy salvation: And although thou dost not in any sort requite my love, because thy heart is inclined to outward vain, and transitory things, and so by that means too much affected and addicted to my creatures: Yet cannot I withdraw that charity, wherewith I am always ready to embrace thee, which exceedeth the love of any father or mother towards their children, or of any earthly Parent whatsoever: For I am not only willing to grant thee my grace and favour, but desirous to accept thee for my spouse, and will daily enrich thee with greater and better blessings, than any that this world can yield thee, if thou wilt follow my counsel. But for that thou hast contemned me when I came to visit thee, and hast not hearkened to my inspirations, thou art become by this evil custom of thine so much distracted in thy soul, and so far beside thyself, as thou art neither able to conceive what thou hast lost, nor yet the misery wherein thou art. And the less that thou dost bewail and lament thine own misery, the more doth thy case deserve to be pitied and lamented. What shall I say O my daughter? thou shouldest be an example to others, and thy life an instruction to those that go astray: the sweet savour of thy good conversation, aught to be a wholesome medicine for the curing of such as are weakened with infection of sin, and thy words as a consuming fire, to inflame the hearts of those that hear them: But now thou art thyself so corrupted with the desire of chidish vanities, so busied with a multitude of unprofitable matters, and so subject to many hurtful passions, as thou art distracted in thy soul, and hast it so much polluted with filthiness, as it is possessed with wandering thoughts and vain imaginations; Self love doth as yet reign in thee, and till thou mortify that, thou canst never enter into my bed, or be partaker of my delights: So as thou which oughtest to teach others, standest now in need of being taught thyself. I writ not this to the end, that I mean to reject thee, but because I would let thee know how far thou hast erred, & am desirous that thou shouldest understand thy own loss and danger; & I do not only allure thee, but I do also prick thee forward to return from thence, home again unto me.  
Wheresoever thou art, whatsoever thou dost, or whether so ever thou goest, my eye is never off on thee, looking and searching into all thy acts, all thy motions, and all the secret intentions of thy heart.  
And if at any time I spy in any of these the least unfaithfulness to me, who am most faithful, I am justly offended and angry; for I did suffer not only with all patience, but even with all willingness, many despites, reproaches, griefs, and torments for thy sake, O my most dear daughter, to pass over in silence all the pains and torments which I did endure, tell me I pray thee, what man would have suffered so many and so great disgraces for his friend, as I did for thee? And yet I endured them when thou wert mine enemy, when thou dadst done no good at all, when thou didst neither love nor know me, yea before thou wert borne did I love thee, and suffer these grievous and innumerable torments for thee. Why then wilt thou turn away thyself from me? why dost thou seek quietness without me? thou art sickly, and yet wilt wander abroad: If I forsake thee, who will receive thee? who can cure thee? Alas my daughter how far art thou deceived? whether soever thou turnest thine eyes, or upon whatsoever thou dost fix thy mind; yet shalt thou find no peace, no joy, nor any rest, but in me only. Thy senses deceive thee, & they which seem to love thee do abuse thee; and thou also dost deceive thyself, when thou refusest a sovereign medicine that would help thee, and receivest rank poison, which will kill thee. Alas my daughter, alas my spouse; I know how often, beautiful and goodly things in show, but vain things in deed, (which when they profess most love & faith unto thee, are most ready to beguile thee) do allure thy senses, and draw thy affection, and how often also they deceive thee with their snares, & lead thee from me with their guiles. O dear daughter, remember that thou art a spouse, and let not the love of any other thing but only thy husband enter into thy heart. Desire nothing but his favour, that thou mayest be beautiful in his eyes, and please him, and be for ever beloved of him. I stand desiring thee, and waiting for thee, I with that thou wouldst return unto me with all thy heart, and forsaking all these vanities, apply thyself wholly to devotion, and give thyself daily to humility, that I might then vouchsafe to talk with thee in more familiar sort and rejoice thy mind, with far better and purer delights, than those wherein thou hast lain drowned.  
I require no multitude of works at thy hands, wherewith to trouble thee, but a chaste, faithful & pure heart, which may seek to please me, & not delight itself. I desire a sincere love, and a fervent devotion, that is a ready and forward will to honour and obey me, and a sincere & pure intention in performing of all those things that I command. I with that thy heart should be clear and free from any other love whatsoever, and if thou wouldst present it to me in this ●orte, I wou●de endue thee with greater consolations and far more excellent blessings, than either thou darest presume to desire, or art able to conceive. I am a husband that is bashful, and therefore will never come unto thee, when I see thee busied with other matters altogether vain and unprofitable. When I come I must find thee alone, for I stand knocking at thy door, being very weak, and quaking for cold, even in the same form that I carried when I was unloosed from the Pillar, where being bound, I was whipped and wounded for thy sake, and this I do, that I may make an impression of myself in thy mind, wounded as I was, & that thou embracing me with the arms of thy love, I may unite thee unto me, and inflame thee with my wounds, that do yet boil with the fervent heat of that charity which I carry towards thee. Oh if thou wouldst acknowledge me for thy husband, & love me as thou ought to do, wouldst thou not both quickly draw me into thy heart, and also before I came, with a most desirous will, attend and long for my coming, and wouldst thou nor then clothe the naked, and give fire to warm him that is a cold, that thou mightest be made worthy to receive again the chaste embrace of my love, and to enjoy the sweet taste of my spirit?  
How much would it please me that thou hadst a certain & firm trust in me, and were as willing to be with me, as I am desirous to be with thee, seeing all my delight consisteth in being with the Children of men. So should the fortitude of thy mind, be daily augmented, and the true sweetness of thy soul continually increased. But this trust in me can never be without a distrust in thyself, & both these graces, are only obtained by poverty of spirit, which is a most precious jewel. But I know well enough what doth withhold thee from attaining to this virtue, thy stomach is overlaid with the love of this world, and by that means infected with such an extreme coldness, as it maketh thee to loath and abhor the word of God, which is the food of thy soul. But if thou desire to increase in virtue, & to strengthen thy mind with the following of that course, thou must receive the word of God greedily, digest it perfectly, and still retain the nourishment of that within thee. The reason therefore that thou canst not thirst after my justice, is because thou art already filled with the cold meat of worldly conversation and vanity, and that is the cause also why these things do delight thee, which savour neither of piety nor devotion. Simplicity of heart is loathsome unto thee, and the exercise of holy meditations, thou accountest as time lost. Thy mind being loaden with the cares of this world, cannot ascend up unto me. For although thou raisest it by force for a while: yet it presently falleth down again into her earthly cogitations: so as thy soul being distracted, thy heart inconstant, thy mind wavering, and thy desires ensnared with the love of worldly pleasure: thou art troubled when thou art awake, and not quiet when thou art a sleep.  
And when thou liest in this misery, O unwise daughter, than thou complainest that thou art dry and barren, without my consolation. If this did happen unto thee, by the means of my providence (as it hath to many other of my friends,) and not by thine own negligence: there were no reason why the wanting of this sensible grace of mine should molest thy soul. But seeing thy own sloth and negligence is the cause that thou liest languishing in this barren dryness: If thou desire my consolation, if thou wish for my coming, if thou do long to be united unto me, thou must forsake all those vanities, that do please thee without me, & only study to serve me, endeavouring continually to perform those things, which agree best with my liking, and are most pleasing unto me, and making this thy chiefest care, thou must labour with all thy force & might, to see my will as near as thou canst, in all creatures fulfilled. Moreover in doing hereof, let thy whole study be to content me, and to rely only upon me. So shalt thou find my presence more often with thee, & by it, thy spirit shall be as it were made drunk with joy, thy conscience shallbe comforted, thy heart quieted, & thou shalt then possess the perfect rest of most sweet contemplation. Oh if thou hadst once come into that wine Cellar, out of doubt thou wouldst even with a certain thirstiness, more earnestly desire to be there, and more often. But no man can enter into it, saving such as desire me above all things, love me above all things, esteem me above all things, & make account of me as all in all. For he that findeth no other consolation but in me, he that thinketh himself unworthy to receive any consolation from me, nay he that desireth affliction so much in this world as he taketh himself to be wronged, when I send him any consolation at all, and doth as willingly accept it at my hands, when I leave his soul barren without any comfort, as when I replenish it with my consolation, to whom all joy without me is a torment, having his mind wholly fixed upon me, & his desire only bend to serve me. Such men as these be, I say are my special friends, at whose door I do freely knock, & willingly enter: these are the men to whom I gladly offer myself, & impart my secrets. These men am I wont to visit in sundry sorts, as seemeth fittest in my indgment, by stirring them up in such sort as is meet & agreeable for the devotion and love which they bear me.  
Sometime I present myself to the eyes of their souls, wounded, naked, and tormented in all my members, & that they may find greater comfort in the love they bear me, I show them my wounds, to the end that they may touch them, bathe them, cleanse them, kiss them, & embrace them: and although their devotion in this behalf may seem to worldly men ridiculous because they know not what it meaneth, yet is it most acceptable unto me & profitable to them. For than I begin to forget all the pains which I have suffered, and also all the faults which such a spouse of mine hath committed against me, & do wholly bend myself to comfort her with my spirit, and to lighten her with my grace.  
And although I stand not in need of any thing, yet I make account I have gained much, when I find so great fidelive in my spouse, as she loveth me better than either herself, or all the world beside. But unthankfulness doth offend me 〈◊〉 much as fidelity doth content me, and is of all things most grievous unto me, because by it they seek to renew (as much as lieth in them) the griefs of my Passion, and vexations of my mind, seeing I perceive that all is lost, which I did of an unspeake by charity endure for them. Therefore, whether outward affliction of thy body, or inward affliction of thy mind happen unto thee, seek not for external comforts, which are nothing worth, but in all thy distress fly unto me, and make no complaint of thy grief unto any man but to me only. For what greater help can men yield thee, than in giving thee fair words? If thou hast a Ghostly Father or Confessor, I forbidden thee not to disclose it unto him, but I exhort thee to lay open before him the secrets of thy heart, and to direct thyself in all respects, according to his counsel, without yielding any way to satisfy the fury of thy Passion, or labouring for some eternal comfort, or boasting before others, of those vexations which thou dost suffer. Declare to me in secret, that which thou wouldst complain of before men, committing thyself and all things to my providence being quiet without any care or perturbation of thy mind. Thou shalt find (believe me) a happy peace in thy soul, and great consolation by this course at my hands, although not such peradventure at all times as thou dost imagine or wish for, yet such as may most of all conform thee to my will and pleasure.  
Oh if thou wert taught and accustomed by thine own experience in all worldly things which trouble thee, to have thine eye only fixed upon me, to fly unto me for refuge, to hope in my mercy with a patiented expecting of the same, to rely upon me, and withal to conceive with how fatherly & loving a mind, I send thee adversity for thy benefit: there should be no tribulation so great, that thou wouldst not with all gladness and willingness accept, yea and prefer it before all joy or consolation whatsoever. For albeit thou shouldest receive no other commodity by it, yet this were sufficient to comfort and rejoice thy mind, that it is a fulfilling of my will. If my will be done, it doth always please the faithful soul, more than the receiving of any other benefit, although in truth my will be never but to do that which may be most for her commodity.  
It will also help thee very much for retaining a quiet mind in all adversity, to lay before thy eyes the acts and miseries of my life, and evermore to carry within thee, a lively representation thereof. For if thou do imprint this in thy mind, it will make thee think all bitter things sweet. Meditate therefore at all times upon my torments, and desire at my hands continually with sighs and tears, that I may vouchsafe to make a strong and an effectual impression in thy heart of my wounds and passion, that thou mayest see me crucified at all times, & in all places, with a heart that doth even suffer with me, and let the lively representation hereof, banish from thy soul all other imaginations whatsoever. If thou return in this sort from all outward to inward things, & shalt dwell within thine own self, if thou behold in thy heart my grievous torments, and myself crucified, if thou hear me cry when I was replenished with all sorrow and bitterness, and not relieved with any consolation from my father: My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me: thou shalt (being inflamed with the virtue of my passion) have a desire to imitate me, to suffer for me, and to serve me without any comfort at all, in contempt & resignation of thyself. They that serve me with this mind, and are united unto me for mere love only, & continue faithful unto me without any other respect but to please me, and to have my will wholly fulfilled in them, these men I say, are my faithfullest & most special friends. And in what dryness or desolation so ever they may seem to be, and with what temptations so ever they may seem to be overwhelmed, and as it were cast off and forsaken of me, yet in truth they are still mine, because they fight manfully at their own charge, for my cause against the whole army of wicked temptations, which do continually assault men in the welfare of this present world, and will not revolt from my Camp although I sometime strike & punish them.  
But I do not altogether leave them, for seeing they have conquered all their passions, and renounced all their own appetites to please me, and for my sake: yea and have even altogether forsaken themselves, and given themselves only to me, in being subject wholly to my will: I cannot hold, but I must also power myself into them, & both fill, nourish and possess their souls with my comfort, which is a hundred times better, purer & sweeter, than that worldly pleasure which they have forsaken. They cannot receive this (as I have often told thee, and will not cease to beat into thy mind) which do seek or accept of any foreign comfort, that proceedeth not from me, or is not in me. For my consolation is wonderful sweet, & bestowed only upon such as will admit me no other. It is also most pure and therefore cannot be mixed with any consolation that is derived from my creatures. But why do I so often repeat these things unto thee? Truly I do it to make thee more wise, watchful & circumspect, and to the end that thou shouldest not be snared with these corrupt and earthly delights, nor yet be brought by them to forget me, seeing I can never forget thee, although that thy salvation only dependeth upon my providence, & not mine upon thee in any sort. I wish also that thou shouldest be always with me, & by being with me, enjoy all perfect felicity. But why do not I fulfil this? marry even for thy good, that thou mayst increase in virtue, to the great profit of thy soul, & thy greater glory. For thou mayest by my grace daily increase in goodness, & be made every moment more rich in merit. Wherhfore seeing this is so, how foolish dost thou think them to be, & how much to be lamented, which do spend the most precious time of grace that I have allotted unto them, not only, not to my honour and their own profit, but to the heavier aggravating of their damnation by wicked life? Oh that thou knewest, how much thou mightest increase in the virtues of thy soul, and in merit by my grace every hour, and also how dear a evil time is, and how damnable the loss thereof: For thou wouldst then out of doubt take care with more diligence that the smallest moment should not pass thee vainly, nor yet slip away without reaping some benefit to thy soul. With the Sun rising every day, there shall then arise a new joy into thy mind, that I had granted thee the commodity of that day, & by it so much longer space to honour and serve me.  
Think therefore, and say every hour unto thyself, our Lord which loveth me hath vouchsafed to give me this hour, this moment, and hath prolonged the course of my life hitherto, that I should even now begin to turn unto him, and endeavour myself to please him.  
O my Daughter, ever above all things carry this opinion, that the present moment wherein thou livest is the first time, wherein thou beginnest to do well, and contemn all that thou haste done before as nothing worth, What occasion soever, what business soever, what idle time soever, or what other things soever, either may or shall happen unto thee, use them in such sort as thou employ them to my glory, and convert them to some benefit of thy own soul. But this in this behalf, is sufficient. For I have hitherto stirred thee up, & excited thee to departed from all vanities, with shutting the gates of thy senses against them, and to return unto me with a recollected and quiet mind. It remaineth now that I add unto this, as it were a rule to teach thee how to live godly, which I have heard thee, by the inspiration of my grace, desire often at my hands. For there remaineth as yet bashfulness in thee (which I like well) and which maketh thee ashamed in the opening of thy infirmities, faults, errors, & negligences: & also grieved that thou hast this long time heretofore, and dost even at this present, so unworthily usurp the name of my spouse. But seeing thou desirest to return into my grace, there is nothing that I likewise do more affect or desire. For what other joy have I in being among you, then to receive every sinner into my favour: how much more than do I desire or rather long (as may in reason be justly thought) to bring my spouse home unto me, when she goeth astray, amongst the berries and thorns of worldly vanities. Nay I am so desirous to recall thee, as I will prescribe thee a plain path, wherein (if thou walkest) thou shalt be sure to follow my steps, & never wander again out of thy way.  
Come therefore unto me, and by thy return, procure me a new joy, such as delight in most, and desire ever to possess.  

A rule for spiritual life.  
Mark well (my daughter) for since I see thee give better ear, & apply thy mind with more diligence to carry away my speeches: I will proceed in declaring these things unto thee, which I require at thy hands: continue therefore attentive, & return now wholly unto me, being ready in all things to obey me. Put on a new mind, and hear what I expect that thou shouldest do, and what thou art not able of thyself to do, let prayer assist thee to fulfil. Seek to obtain by prayer whatsoever is necessary for thee, saying: Deliver me from my enemies, O Lord, I fly unto thee for succour, teach me to do thy will, because thou art my God: leave me not O Lord my God, & depart not from me, neither yet despise me, which art the God of my salvation.  
Incline thyself to help me O Lord, the God of my safety. Behold I desire to return unto thee, draw me after thee, and never suffer me again to be separated or withdrawn from thee. O my daughter, hearken now to that which I gave in commandment to one of my servants long ago, and endeavour thou also to fulfil it. I said unto him.  
Use ever silence in thy tongue,  
And have compunction in thy mind:  
Be humble, courteous, meek & mild,  
If thou in me wilt comfort find.  
The same words in the same form do I speak unto thee, having made it in the true measure of a verse (although thou shalt have less need of a measure to direct thee when thou art come to this perfection. But I do not now deliver it unto thee, as framed in measure to please thine ears, but as a foveraigne medicine to cure thy soul. I have comprehended all those things, which are necessary for thee briefly in this verse, that thou mayest more easily retain them in thy memory, and more often meditate upon them in thy mind. For my will is, that thou shouldest altogether apply thy endeavour, to have a holy compunction for thy sins, and that leaving all other business aside, thou shouldest only attend to a continual and eternal conversation, and remaining weaned from all other pleasures, to be recollected into thine own self, and so to continue always free from any distraction or perturbation whatsoever. Be silent in thy tongue, & pure from all filthiness in thy heart. Be humble and meek, and remember to show thyself both courteous and gentle in all thy behaviour towards all sorts of men. First of all, diligently examine thyself, and look most nearly and narrowly into thyself, that thou mayest know what is in thee, which is an impediment to thee, for the receiving of my grace, that is to say, what is in thee which doth displease me, that thou mayest correct & amend it. Consider to what things, & by what means thou art tempted, and where thou seest thyself most sharply and oftenest tempted, there seek to resist them with greatest diligence, and most earnest endeavour. Where thou findest thyself weaker, there appile more forcible remedies quickly to vanquish them. Where thou perceivest any occasion which moveth thee to sin, or not to profit in this spiritual course, there cut off that scandal and impediment from thee.  
Have special care to present unto me, a pure heart: free from all uncleanness, and never infected with any inordinate love to my creatures, nor occupied with any unnecessary business in this world, and labour evermore withal that thou art able, wholly to cleave unto me, and still to rely upon me. The cause why I do exhort thee, to a continual exercise of compunction, is that by it thou mayest keep thyself free from foreign or wandering thoughts, which thou canst never attain unto, except thou be recollected in thy mind. Neither canst thou come to be thus recollected, except thou lead an internal and solitary life, private to thyself & withdrawn from all worldly affairs. Wherhfore mark with a watchful eye those vices, concupiscences and wicked inclinationes which reign in thee, that thou mayest never cease with all thy might to persecute them, & willingly to mortify in thyself all inordinate affections.  
Many complain that they are unapt for contemplation & spiritual life, but their own negligence and sloth is the cause: for that they will strain themselves no whit to conquer their old man, that they may mortify all lusts and concupiscences, but do nourish, cherish, & favour them which they ought to persecute, & root out of their minds. Therefore they carry always about them a heavy burden of unquiet thoughts, filled with labour & vexation. but if thou desire to enjoy me, have no peace at all with any vice.  
Banish from thee all unprofitable discourses, cares, and businesses which yield no benefit at all to thy soul. And never apply thy mind to the thinking of any other matter, nor trouble thyself with any other affairs, but such as tend to my honour, the salvation of thy own soul, or the commodity of thy neighbour, that thou being thus alone and in this sort retired within thyself, mayest be possessed with me, who will never be matched with any other companion.   

How we must mortify all unlawful desires and wicked inclinations.  
VOuchsafe not to hear, much less to read any news, tidings, or pleasant Histories, which serve not to procure a compunction in thy heart, but to delight a curious mind, and afterward do leave thy soul corrupted and infected with sundry imaginations and vain desires. Fly any special familiarity, liking or conversation with worldly men, that is to say, with those that love these earthly pleasures, yea enter not into any league of familiarity, good will, and special conversation with any such man, whose words & deeds do not edify thee in this virtuous course, but avoid his company, and mortify all sensual love in thyself, towards any of my creatures. Have such a commandment over thy belly, as that thou allow it only necessary things, and that also not for the pleasing of thy taste, but for the sustaining of nature, and for my sake, that by this mean thou mayest not decay, but increase in ability to serve me. Moreover, never receive any thing to delight thy taste which is not necessary and profitable for thy body, and especially when thou mayest observe this without the breach of brotherly charity. Root out also from thy mind after this sort, and fail not both to fly and abhor all pleasant things, all voluptuous things, and all such things as seem sweet to thy carnal appetite, as (far as discretion will permit thee, which doth quallefie all extremity ever having a respect to charity, to infirmity, to the necessity of nature, and to every other thing that is convenient) and evermore take a special care that in this government of thyself, thou dost persecute concupiscence, but not destroy nature. And as touching those things which are necessary, and yet cannot be received without some delight. It is sufficient for thee if thou dost not seek that delight but in respect of me, that is to obey me, who have committed the care of thy body to thyself to refresh the infirmity of thy nature, so as thou takest this delight not as a thing which thou wishest for, but as a thing that can not be separated from that which is necessary for man's use, admitting it only for necessity, and not desiring it for pleasure. Therefore to be short, have such a care and watch over all thy senses, as they may not move or turn themselves to any vain or unprofitable things. See nothing, touch nothing, know nothing, but that which may be profitable for thy soul and my glory.  
Wherein soever a man doth follow his own appetite, seeking to satisfy it of a proper and self will, that is to say because he will have it so, or because he hath a desire thereunto, he must needs offend, for he that desireth any thing in this sort, whether it be in meat, drink, or any other thing to refresh nature, or else in seeking the delight of some spiritual consolation, it cannot be done without sin, because there is in it a particular care to please his own fancy, which doth divide & separate him clean from me. Suffer nothing therefore to grow in thee, or to be nourished by thee, which carrieth any respect to satisfy thy own liking, or to content thy own will, although it may seem to have an appearance of goodness: But thou must die to all love of thyself, & all desire of following thy own appetite, that a naked, a simple and a pure charity without mixture of any other thing whatsoever, and a chaste intention to please me, may stir, move and procure thee to all the thoughts thou thinkest, to all the words thou speakest, and to all the works thou dost.   

How a man ought to govern his tongue.  
Have as watchful a care as thou mayest over thy tongue, and restrain it from all liberty, suffer it to utter nothing, but that which is necessary, and well thought of before, and in as few words as it is possible for thee to comprehend the same, with all modesty and meekness, and without any great noise or loud speaking, flying, and cutting off by all the means thou art able, any thing that may either occasion or procure thee to speak.  
Abstain from all words, that be any way hurtful, backbiting, grudging, unclean or contentious, as from a mortal sin. Having a special regard to keep thyself from all jesting, lightness, immoderate laughing, and idle words, and be so careful in this behalf, as neither thou usest them thyself, nor yet hear them of any other, as far as it lieth in thy power to avoid it.  
And to the end thou mayest be free from that great vice of backbiting, resolve thou in thine own heart, never to speak any thing of those which are absent, but such things as thou art sure do tend to the edifying of men's souls. Ever have some mean ready at hand to break off that talk (if there be any speech offered of those that be absent) by bringing aptly in a discourse of some other matter, before there be any word uttered either in the backbiting or dispraising of them.  
Take a most diligent and heedful care that thou speakest not thyself, nor sufferest any other, to speak of those which have offended thee, or to ward whom thou findest in thy heart no perfect charity, because men may easily fall by that mean, into the vice of backbiting, while they speak to please thy humour by flattering of thee and reproaching of those that thou dost mislike. Therefore never hearken to any accusation that is made of them which are thine enemies, or such as thou dost not love.  
Endeavour as much as thou canst to remain always in silence (I mean not only the silence of thy tongue, but especially the silence of thy heart) so as there may not be heard within thy soul, any sound of unlawful concupiscence, any noise of unquiet passions, or any troublesome stir of wicked affections, and inordinate inclinations: Neither suffer thou unprofitable discourses to arise in thine own heart, with any vain fancies, fond imaginations, or the deceitful forms of such things as thou shalt have there represented unto thee: but even as if thou hadst forgotten all other things whatsoever, & wert out of this world: in quietness and silence speak to me only, and hearken unto me wholly.  
Never strive with any man in words, neither seek stiffly to maintain thy own mind or opinion, suffer every man to have his saying, if thou canst not dissuade him by gentle words, or do him good by some mild exhortation. And to conclude, resolve thy self neither to dispute in words, neither yet reason in thine own thoughts against him, but refer all things unto me, and live thou in all silence of thy tongue, & in all quietness of thy heart.   

Of the contemplative life which is wholly withdrawn from the cares and affairs of this present world.  
FLy the society and familiarity of men, & when thou art not otherwise enforced by necessity for my honour, or for thy neighbour's salvation, be always alone, for when thou art alone, then will I reveal myself unto thee. Solitariness, silence, purity and simplicity of heart, do prepare a place for me to dwell in. Keep thyself therefore withdrawn from all creatures, in silence & quietness of heart. Neither vouchsafing to consent, nor yet to hearken to the unlawful appetits of thy will, the wandering cogitations of thy mind, or the vain desires of thy heart. For thy nature (I know) is ever inclined to delight in consolation, & is always occupied, sometime with out labour in thy body, & sometime with inward care in thy mind seeking consolation in my creatures, whereby thou comest to be many and sundry ways distracted. Remember thou therefore to strive with all thy force against all thy sensual and carnal inclinations, & keep thyself alone, being withdrawn from all creatures, and remaining ever both in outward solitariness of thy body, and inward contemplation of thy mind, as far as discretion which must be thy guide, obedience to thy superiors, and charity to thy neighbours will permit thee. Take care also as much as conveniently thou mayest, not to give others by thy example, any occasion of often meetings, or common familiarity, because it doth very much hinder the spiritual course of life, which is never so free from any impediment, nor so apt to profit itself, as when it is separated from all sorts of men, and all kind of business: yet howsoever thou shalt chance to be, either living amongst men, or sequestered from the society of men, remain with me always alone, recollected within thy own soul, and withdrawn not only from all other creatures, but even from thine own self, that is from all liking to procure thine own pleasure, from all care, to seek thine own commodity, and from all desire to serve thine own appetite. Persuade thyself that thou art left alone in this world, and haste nothing to ●are for but me, and therefore think of no other matter, and deal with no other creature, but with me only.  
Examine not other men's actions, & trouble not thyself with other men's affairs, if thou seest that which is good embrace it, and let it edify thee: if thou seest that which is evil, leave it, but give no judgement of it.  
Beware of observing, marking, examining, or judging of such men's speeches, actions and manners, as cannot by their holy and good example edify thee: Nay be so far from doing this, as desire never to hear or understand them, but rather seek by all means not to know them at all. And if thou shalt happen by any chance to hear them, root them out of thy heart, and endeavour to forget them as soon as thou canst: especially if thou standest in danger by that means to offend in the breach of charity, or to conceive a wo●se opinion of those parties.   

How we ought to judge no man.  
Think ill of no man, & although he seemeth to thee to be wicked, yet believe that he hath been suffered to fall by some secret and hidden providence of mine, for the attaining of greater humility in himself, & procuring of greater profit to his soul. And thou oughtest neither to judge, nor yet despise him, but lament rather thy own ingratitude towards me, because my grace only doth uphold thee, as it were violently against thy will, & think that without it thou shouldest fall into greater, and more heinous sins than any other, therefore say unto thyself: if this man had received so much grace as I have done, he would have served God a great deal more devoutly, & been more thankful unto him, than I have been. Believe also, that as soon as I look upon him with the eyes of my mercy, he will presently repent and amend; or else, that he is already reform and made more holy than those that despise him. Wherhfore ascribe thy ill conceait of him, to thine own fault & rash judgement, and reprehend thyself sharply, because thou haste thought amiss of thy neighbour, and done him wrong. Rancour, hatred, bitterness & envy, do many times hide themselves under the colour of zeal, which do make men think, not only every defect and light fault of their neighbour to be grievous, but also to judge their virtues to be vices, their sights being dimmed with the soggy mist of malice and envy.  
Take special heed therefore that thou neither reprehend nor accuse any man, nor yet either speak or hear of any man's faults when thou art angry. Beware also that thou dost not at that time seek to gall him, gainsay him, or grieve him with any word or show of thine, neither yet by chiding to procure humility and shamefastness in him: or to declare that thou hast taken him in a fault worthy reprehension, & meet to be spoken of, & chiefly abstain from doing of this, as long as displeasure, bitterness, or any troubled and unquiet passion doth remain in thy heart against him, and as long as thou dost desire to make others note him for his faults and offences, because thou haste neither zeal of charity, nor a sincere intention in thee at that time. For if thou hadst, thou wouldst rather be sorrowful, & lament with him for his sins, and seek as much as thou couldst, to excuse and cover before others thy Brothers or Sister's offence, & if they had made a great fault, thou wouldst then rebuke them in secret not without grief in thy own soul, and wouldst pray earnestly unto me for them with a heart that did even suffer with them for their offences, and were most lovingly & humbly affected towards them.  
O my daughter be diligent to know what thou wantest, and what is fit for my spouse, & as for other men's faults be deaf to hear them, dumb to utter them, and blind to see them. Tell me (my daughter) how great regard would a bashful Virgin have of her behaviour, if she stood in a King's presence, and saw his eyes continually fixed upon her? After the same sort think how that I am in all places present with thee, and that thou standest always in my sight. Consider how great modesty there ought ever to be in thee, how great innocency of life, and to be short how great reverence thou oughtest to carry towards me, which do always behold, and look with my piercing eyes into the depth of all thy acts, thoughts, passions, words, motions, intentions and even the very secrets of thy heart. Presume not therefore to do any thing in my sight, which thou darest not offer to do in the sight of one of my servants, that were a very devout man, and so generally accounted, and of all men greatly esteemed; for thou oughtest ever to fear the dreadful presence of my almighty power, and infinite Majesty, & to have it at all times, both laid before thy eyes, and imprinted in thy heart, that by it thou mayest be stirred up to love and reverence me, and be careful in all things to please me, since thou art continually in my sight.  
Thou shouldest not have the peace of thy soul, which thou dost in all places desire to depend upon men's mouths, that is, to be quiet when no man doth gainsay thee, but to rest upon me and a good conscience.  
Moreover, thou oughtest to mortify that appetite in thyself, which doth provoke thee with an earnest desire and delight to be beloved, and commended of men. Suffer men to be men still, and apply thyself only to love me, that thou mayest be worthy to stand highly in my favour.  
Live uprightly with thy neighbour▪ and love him for my sake, neither care thou whether he love thee again or not, but leave it to me, and fly the familiarity, both of men and women, but especially of those that be not of thine own sex.  
If thou hadst as great a care, or at the least, no less respect to please me then thou haste, not to displease men, thou shouldest obtain by it, greater consolation in thy soul, then if all the world did seek for thy favour.   

How we ought to fight against vice.  
be stout and circumspect to vanquish and purge thy soul of any imperfection, although it be never so little, for the least sin that offendeth me, ought not to seem small in thy eyes, if thou dost perfectly love me.  
Call to mind the love that thou didst carry towards me heretofore, which made thee to contemn and forsake for the love of me, thy Parents, thy Brethren, thy Sisters, thy riches, thy honour, & whatsoever else that seemeth delightful in this present world, and to conclude; even thyself, that is: thy flourishing youth, and pleasantest years; how cometh it then now to pass, that thou art vanquished with a most light temptation, and a vile motion of concupiscence? Thou knowest best thyself, how weak and negligent thou art for the most part, and how hardly thou art drawn to overcome vice, to beware of those snares which may endanger thy soul, to fly the occasions and provocations of sin, to renounce thy own will, and to amend the imperfections of thy heart. Renew therefore thy constant and former determination, resolving to persecute all vice in thyself, and not to suffer any thing to remain within thee, that is contrary to my will, for any worldly gain whatsoever.  
Neglect not to do all those things which please me, and follow that course of life which I require at thy hands, and is fit for thy vocation, with all care and diligence. Use not to delay: neither leave those things undone, which is thy duty to perform, and my right to receive, but do them with courage stoutly, willingly, carefully, faaithfullie, and devoutly.  
Whensoever thou findest in thyself, the motions of anger, concupiscence, wantonness, pride, & such like motions of vices, beware that thou dost not suffer them violently to break out of thee, by any word or show: but seek by bridling & resisting them, to suppress and extinguish them. The best and presentest remedy against all kind of vice, is to cast thyself when thou art tempted, prostrate at my feet with all humility, to consider how thou wert made of nothing, and art nothing but by my grace; to return unto me wholly, to repose all thy confidence in me, to call upon me by continual prayer, & perfectly to know that thou canst receive no succour not remedy in this thy distress, but from me only▪  
Seek to strengthen thine own infirmity in this sort every hour, and renew thy good purpose, ever persuading thyself, that the present instant wherein thou livest, is the first time of thy beginning to do well.  
When it shall seem loathsome to thy nature, or go against thy sensual appetite, to take these labours, to enter into these combats and conflicts, and to do many other things, which may seem contrary and grievous to thy mind in this exercise of virtue: ever the more that thine own slothful humour shall repine at them, the more earnestly endeavour thou to overcome and mortify these passions.  
Be not wearied with so holy a labour, neither cease thou to proceed in so good a course, lest it move me also to stay from pouring the influence of my grace into thee. Be afraid lest that if thou yield thyself vanquished, or seemest tired by reason of thy sloth: my grace shall forsake thee, and that I will leave thee to follow thy own inventions, and with a dangerous kind of security to satisfy thy own desires; for it is a manifest argument, that I have then for thy own deserts, both justly and clearly rejected thee; When thou feelest no worm of conscience gnawing within thee, no remorse for thy sins, nor any fear of my dreadful judgement. Such as be in this state, are in a most perilous case, for when they think peace nearest unto them, than cometh destruction sudden liest upon them.  
Wherhfore ●ight thou manfully, and violently repress thine affections. Wish in this small conflict or affliction, how little so ever it be, to yield me some recompense, as far as lieth in thy power, for those pains and torments, which both living and dying, I endured for thy sake.  
Be never wearied therefore, with fight against many temptations, give not place, wax not faint, neither suffer thou thyself to be overcome with weakness in thy heart, nor desperation in thy mind, but persecute all vice with a continual and mortal hatred, and as often as thou beginnest to faint, or to decline from thy former determination, so often rise again, and make a new resolution.  
One thing I must needs warn thee of, which hurteth thyself, and offendeth me, which is, that thou art become sometimes so faint hearted, with thy faults and oversights, as they move thee to waver, in following of the good course that thou hast begun, and almost induce thee to despair.  
This is the cause that doth make thee sit solitary, pining & consuming for very grief, and not to return unto me that thou mayest rise again, but even with a kind of despair to imagine, that all thou haste done before is utterly lost and forgotten. And thou showest thyself by this kind of dealing, to be proud, because when thou didst seem to stand, thou didst trust too much in thy own force and ability, & that maketh thee now to be so greatly troubled and perplexed in thy mind: because thy hope did fail thee, & it fell out otherwise then thou didst expect or look for. My will is, that thou shouldest not use the help of thy own force and endeavour, but utterly to distrust both in them & thyself, and to trust in me only, for as long as thou thinkest otherwise, thou art like every hour to come to ruin, until thou learnest this lesson, that when thou reliest upon thyself, thine own strength is no greater help unto thee to make thee stand upright, then if thou wert underpropped with a broken reed. But despair not in me, reposing a most firm hope, & assured confidence in my mercy. And touching thyself, I would have thee to despair after this sort: not to refuse thy own counsel, thy own industry, thy own travail, and other things of such like kind which proceed from thyself, but I would have thee continually to use them, and yet not to rely upon them, confidently to trust or delight in them, neither yet would I have thee attribute any good thou receivest to thyself, or to thine own diligence for both thyself, and all these abilities which thou haste, have not power to make thee withstand the smallest sin, except thou be assisted with my grace and mercy. Neither think thou that I will presently power into thee, for one earnest prayer, a few tears, or one only conflict against the temptation of sin, all graces, all virtue, and all good gifts, or that I will for this, send thee any sudden or extraordinary profit in thy spiritual course of life, or that thou shalt immediately come to attain to all piety and holiness.  
I require at thy hands daily pains, unfeigned humbling of thyself, and a continual fidelity towards me, in fight against vice. I look for, also a firm hope, and an assured trust in my mercy, and a constancy in thee, that will neither be overcome with any assault, nor yet wearied with any travail. And when thou shalt find in thyself all these things which I have named, let there not want a most profound humility, whereby thou mayest be brought perfectly to know thyself, and to confess that as thou wert made of nothing by my mercy, so thou art nothing but by my grace, attributing nothing to thine own labour and travail, and acknowledging that thou haste deserved nothing, but ascribing thy thirst after justice, and all other good things which thou dost to me only.  
Except thou knowest these things thou canst not but err, and must of necessity fall often, until thou come to learn what thou art of thyself, & what thou art by my grace. I forbidden thee not, but exhort thee to labour as much as thou canst, and to strive for virtue as much as thou art able; & when thou hast done all, trust not in any remedy, nor in any industry of thy own, that is without me, but hope of this, pray for this, & believe this certainly, that I will never fail to assist thee in all thy diligent & virtuous labours, not in respect of thine own deserts, but in respect of the love and charity which I bear thee. For seeing that I have given thee, a will, a desire, & an inclination to fight, I will also grant thee for thy labour in fight (if thou perseverest to the end) a Crown of glory, a triumph of victory, & a most happy end of thy combat.  
Wherhfore, whether thou be'st in war or at peace with thyself, whatsoever thou dost determine, whatsoever thou beginnest, or whatsoever thou dost enterprise, crave without ceasing my assistance by prayer, and wait before the gates of my mercy. Thy prayers shall never return from me void, and fruitless, although thou think thou haste received nothing; for it is often more profitable for thee, to pray humbly and earnestly, then to receive and obtain benefits. It is often more gainful for thee to trust in me, & expect my leisure, then sensibly to feel, or possess my consolation. Wherhfore be thou patiented, & long suffering: & increase in all good exercises, & in the love of all that is good, between falling and rising, ever expect thou my grace & protection: neither seek to fly or to run away from the battle, until all the fight be fully ended, & the time be come for thee to receive a glorious reward for thy painful travail. And because thou mayest be the rather encouraged to proceed in this labour, assure thyself that even in this life, thy enemies shall be daily diminished, and their force that assault thee continually weakened, & thyself by my grace, and use of sighting, wonderfully strengthened, in so much as that which at the first thou couldst scarcely scrape out with a file of iron, thou shalt come in time to drive away with a blast of wind.  
Moreover, whensoever thou chancest to fall, take this for a general rule, though thou fallest never so often, & offendest never so greatly, yet presently without any delay come unto me, lamenting thy fault and bewail it with me, lying prostrate at my feet, and rise again with me, leaning thyself upon me, that is, repose thy confidence in my power, resolving firmly to amend, and never to offend in it again. I know man's weakness in general, I know also thine in particular, and how apt man is of his of his own frailty to fall, & how it proceedeth from the malice of the devil for a man to be unwilling to stand, or unwilling to rise again after he is fallen. Which thing cannot only be by no means excused, but also receiveth without my mercy, a heavier damnation. I require nothing of thee but a good will, and nothing is in my eyes more precious than the same.  
Wherhfore if thou wantest force, ability, or time to do good works, be not dismayed, for thy good will doth fully content me.  
Retain ever within thyself a good will, for by it thou mayest satisfy for all thy defects, & repair all thy faults, although thou be'st able to do nothing beside. When thou thinkest me farthest from thee, then am I nearest unto thee.  
Therefore (my Daughter) as soon as thou shalt find that thou haste offended, condemn thyself, and presently running unto me, confess thyself guilty, and make complaint against thyself unto me. Thou canst not no sooner be repentant; then I have granted thee my pardon, neither canst thou sooner ask forgiveness, than I have quite remitted and forgiven all.  
Wherhfore then (O my Spouse) dost thou stay from returning unto me? Thy safety is not procured in flying from me, but in flying unto me.  
I whatsoever thou seest that thou haste most offended: where thou findest that thou haste oftenest fallen: to conclude, where thou perceivest that thou haste most declined from virtue: there cry oftenest unto me, there sigh unto me with more often groans, and desire with all fervency at my hands, both pardon for thy sins, and the protection of my grace.  
Be not wearied with temptations, but always resist them as much as thou canst, neither yield thyself as vanquished by them, or as a Prisoner unto them. As long as thou resistest, thou art never overcome. For whatsoever thou feelest, and art enforced to suffer (as long as thou sufferest it against thy will, and resisting it is I told thee before) I will never impute it to thee as a fault, because I require not an account at thy hands of that thou feelest, but of that to which thou consentest. To feel motions of sin, is engrafted as it were in thy flesh, but to consent unto it, resteth in thy own choice. There may be a certain kind of violence offered, to the flesh and senses, but the will can never be compelled.  
There are two things in temptation: one the matter whereunto thou art tempted, and that is a sin, and imperfections, these thou must never consent unto, neither yet yield thyself in any sort unto them, but resist them with all thy might. The other is, that labour and distress which thou dost endure in resisting them: and this thou must patiently abide and yield unto, as long as it is my pleasure that thou shalt be tempted. For thou oughtest not to resist me, but to subject thyself wholly unto my will, and to resist those motions which thou art stirred unto by the mean of temptation: that thou mayest continue still in my favour, receive my grace, and be partaker of my consolation.  
But I know what thou wilt say, for I am not ignorant of those things which thou dost suffer, and wherewith thy heart is afflicted. I will tell thee them therefore, since thou art ashamed to tell them thyself, that by it thou mayst be the better assured to receive remedy, and consolation for them at my hands. The temptation of thy flesh doth assault thee, not only every day, but every moment. To resist this continually is troublesome and grievous, and to escape it without fight, is impossible. To fight long and not to be wounded, is in thy judgement not only hard, but miraculous He that is thy enemy, is very familiar with thee, thou carriest him about with thee in every place, thou art not permitted to destroy him, but thou art enforced to nourish him. His weapons are many, his manner of fight divers, and his assaults very violent, as the fiery heats, the fervent motions, the delightful allurements, the terrible perturbations, the cruel onsets, the sweet pleasures of all kind of lust and concupiscence, & many such other which some men do feel raging in their flesh like certain furies of hell. Now the strong impressions and delectations of them being in a manner violent and joined with these fancies, are almost sufficient to vanquish all thy senses.  
Moreover the instability, and inconstancy of some men's heart is so great, that even in the very moment, wherein they prepare themselves to resist these temptations, they are presently as it were fallen beside themselves, and clean forgetting that which they had determined, they begin to think of that which they did refuse to think of before. Now who amongst these dangers (sayest thou) can escape safe? who can flee away from sin unwounded? marry a good and an humble will, for to it there can no violence be offered. For whatsoever thou thinkest, chastity is not polluted with it, but with the consent of thy mind, that is, whatsoever thou feelest in thy flesh, shall not be imputed to thee for sin, if thy mind consent not thereunto: for whatsoever is sin must be voluntary, and as long as it is not voluntary it is not sin. Therefore with how great temptations soever thou art oppressed, nay though thy flesh do seem to be overwhelmed with them, and thy senses as prisoners unto them, yet whatsoever thou feelest delightful to thy flesh, keep thy mind free, (that is, thy reasonable will) and then nothing can hurt thee▪ Cry out with the detestation of thy soul against them, and with a voice that doth abhor them, fie, fie, I will not, I will not.  
Turn unto me with all the force thou art able, and repeat often this short sentence. O my God help me; O merciful jesus I will not yield unto them, help me.  
Moreover, though most loathsome and horrible temptations do creep into thy mind, yet for all that be not thou dismayed; as they creeped in, so let them creep out, and by that gate wherein they did enter, let them departed, and let not them only out themselves, but carry out with them any thing that is nought, and unclean within thee, that they may leave thy house swept and cleansed. And this thou mayest easily do, if thou wilt enter into a deep consideration to know thyself, and call upon me only with a firm confidence, and with a great humility, neither seeking to spare thyself, nor ceasing to persecute thine enemies. For it is a most present remedy against all inclinations, to remember as soon as ever thou shalt find an evil inclination in thy mind, how thou art nothing, and hast nothing of thyself but by my grace only, and how unpossible it is for thee, with any ability of thine own, to resist these motions, and therefore presently to fly unto me with all thy heart, and to seek aid and protection from my wounds which I suffered for thy sake, and at the sight whereof, the ancient enemy of mankind doth yet quake & tremble. Believe me (my daughter) although thou be haunted as much as is possible for thee with carnal thoughts, sensual motions, violent cogitations & imaginations, and although thou feel in this behalf as much as may be devised, yet as long as reason hath the upper hand, and doth gainsay them, and as long as thy reasonable and deliberate will doth not make choice of them, thou hast neither lost charity nor my grace. This distress which thou dost sustain, and these straits, whereinto my heart is driven by the mean of this conflict, may be a plain argument unto thee, that thou haste not consented unto them, and so consequently a great comfort to thy mind. For if thou had dost consented unto them, that is, if thou hadst willingly felt those things which thou didst feel, if thou hadst willingly retained, those cogitations which did enter into thy mind, thou shouldest not then have felt this distress, this combat, and sharp conflict, but rather all peace and tranquillity in thy soul. Receive a similitude (O my Daughter) at my hands for thy comfort: If any man in fight hand to hand be overcome, vanquished, bound, yea and beaten, and although he be so straightly holden, as he hath not ability to use his own limbs: yet if he yield not himself as a prisoner, and vanquished, but resisteth with as much force as he is able, and consenteth not to this his captivity, he can never be said to be conquered or overcome. In like manner thou shalt never be judged of me to be overcome, whether thou be tempted of the flesh or the devil, except thou consent with thy mind, and ceasest to resist them. Thou must feel many things, which thou oughtest not to consent unto, that is, which thou oughtest not to feel with thy good will, and with a certain delight.  
But thou wilt say, it is very painful ●o be in continual fight, it is painful to ●enounce those things which thou covetest, it is painful not to think of ●hose things wherein thou delightest, 〈◊〉 is painful to persecute those things ●hich thou lovest. O my Daughter, ●hou dost consist of two parts, that is, ●f the flesh, and of the spirit, and there●re thy desires be divers: and those ●ings which delight the flesh are painful to the spirit. If it seem painful 〈◊〉 the flesh to offer violence to itself, it cannot hate itself; let the spirit ●igne, let the spirit have the royal ●ueraignetie and imperial authority thee, and she will not think it a● pain to bring her enemy, that is, ●e flesh under her yoke and subie●ion.  
That which seemeth at the first ●●auy, and almost intolerable, by ●ntinuall use of fight cometh to be light, and may well be endured: For the oftener that thou resistest thy enemy, thou art the stronger, and he the weaker.  
for dost thou not know that the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and that the violent bear it away? Fight therefore manfully the oftener, and the more stoutly that thou dost do it, the more easy shalt thou ever find it. Remember also, that as the temptation shall end, so the fight shall not always continue, and that an eternal crown of glory which is due to the conqueror doth remain for thee. The sharper thy fight is, the more glorious thy crown of victory shall be. And therefore if thou overcomest being tempted, thou shalt have a double reward, whereas if thou hadst never been tempted, thou shouldest have received but a single.  
Moreover the sharplier that thou are assaulted with the temptation of sin, the c●e●rer shalt thou be purged from thy s●●nes, if thou dost not consent unto it. And although in this conflict, especially when a heavy temptation doth furiously rage in thy flesh, there are many venial sins wont to be committed, (which are given as light wounds to those that fight) yet notwithstanding, that pain which is endured by continuing still in fight, & by resisting of mortal sins, doth on the contrary part take away all that pain which the venial sins do deserve. Beside, that charity wherewith thou fight for my sake dost avoid mortal wounds, and takest great pain in striving for virtue, doth not only heal thy lesser wounds, but also doth turn them to thy greater glory and reward, if thou shalt perfectly overcome these temptations as the scars of a soldiers wounds, which he received by fight manfully in a most fierce battle, are showed, after the victory to his great honour, & the sharper the battle was, the greater is his glory. Fear not therefore my daughter if thou art to fight long, or if thy temptation do continue forcible, if thou canst not prevail so far over thy sensuality, as to make it in all things subject to thy reason, yet always resist it, never give it place, never grant it peace nor quietness. Thy battle against it, the conflict which thou didst endure in resisting of it, I will esteem as a victory and conquest over it: For it is not only good to overcome evil, but with all thy might to resist evil, yea it is sometime more honourable and profitable for thee, by continuing in fight to sustain longer the assaults of thine enemy, and the labour of the conflict, then quickly to have vanquished him, espeacially when it is done by my providence (which disposeth of all, ever for the best towards those that love me) and not by thy own sloth or negligence: For I who am a most upright and wise judge, do mark the travail and force of every one of my Soldiers, and do more esteem in them, their will, than their ability: because to be able to conquer, proceedeth of my gift, but to be willing to conquer resisteth in their own choice, and yet not that neither without my grace.  
Wherefore although my grace must of necessity assist you in both, yet it resisteth more in your own choice to be willing to do well, then to be able to do well, which I considering (O my Daughter) do better allow in thee a will to do much, than ability to perform much. It is also both meet and agreeth with justice, that the longer thou fightest, and the more pain thou takest, thou shouldest receive the larger reward, and not only a reward in the life to come, but even here grace for grace, that is, for every good work which you do by my grace, you shall receive a reward, and some benefit or other by my gracious favour in this present world.   

How we must fly the occasion of temptation.  
TAke a special care, that thou be'st not an occasion of thine own tation, or destruction, in giving thine enemy by thine own fault, opportunity to assault thee, and ability to overthrow thee. For avoiding whereof, fly provocations of temptation, restrain thy senses from wandering, shun the familiarity & private friendship both of men and women, whereby sometime the devil doth find an opportunity to tempt thee, under the colour of devotion or spiritual love. For these things for the most part, do leave behind them grievous temptations, of doubtful suspicions, perturbations, distractions, or else some scandals of violent love and affection. If thy enemy which sought to take thy life stood at thy door, wouldst thou suffer him to come in? How quickly and carefully wouldst thou shut and bar the gates against him? Now these carnal and vicious imaginations, cogitations, and affections, do seek by all means to enter into thy heart, and to destroy the life of thy soul, writ thou then let him come in? Do not suffer them to enter: drive not me away, but keep them out of thy house by force, and with a horrible detestation of them. Turn thy heart unto me, and if thou feel any thing in thy flesh, turn thy heart away from it. Punish thy flesh when it waxeth proud, or wanton, with abstinence: & temperance both in meat and drink. Cut off all access of persons, all haunting of places, and all taking of any occasions whereby thou perceivest thyself to be tempted. And beware above all things, that thou yield not thine own members so far to iniquity, as that the devil do make them instruments of iniquity, and so by thy negligence take opportunity to wound thee with thine own weapons. And therefore correct the pride of thy flesh with such strait discipline, and bridle it with so great modesty, and bashfulness, that even for very fervent love of shame fastness, and chastity, thou mayest scarce presume to see or touch any naked part of thy hands or feet. And for all unclean cogitations, which shall chance to be still importunate upon thee, drive them out as it were one nail with an other, by some Godly meditation, and imprinting in thy mind some holy impression of my life and passion. For to think of my wounds, and passion, doth ever yield without all doubt, a continual and wonderful increase of virtue. For if I have infused into herbs, stones, and roots, rare virtues to expel many diseases of the body, how unspeakable, and how effectual virtue have I given to my wounds and passion (as thou thinkest) for expelling of spiritual diseases, and both curing and Sanctifying of the soul.   

When spiritual temptations are to be conquered.  
IF filthy and unclean thoughts as it often happeneth do at sometime enter into thy mind against me and my Saints, or else that thou be tempted with blasphemy, & rebellious cogitations, let it never henceforth trouble thee, nor yet make thee faint haterd, neither be thou perplexed in thy mind with thinking how to make thy confession of any such matter, as long as thou dost not with advised and deliberate consent yield unto them. For they carry with them more grief than delight, and thou rather sufferest, than dost those things being for that time altogether in passion & nothing in action. Wherefore he that carrieth a pure mind need not either to fear them or confess them, for although a Godly mind may seem to be by this mean a little polluted, yet is it not defiled by her own fault and negligence. And therefore such things as these which procure great heaviness to a devout heart, and my Spouse (because she is enforced to feel within herself, and to be turmoiled with such filthy and abominable imagination's and cogitations against me, as those which be the greatest sinners do abhor) are rather an affliction and purgation unto her, than any defiling or pollution of her. For the Devil whilst he seethe thee withdrawn from all other things whatsoever, and only to thirst after me, doth endeavour to trouble this quiet peace of thine, and to hinder and to keep thee from being united unto me, by these fancies which seem both odious and horrible. Wherhfore the more holy that the day is, the more earnestly thou dost bend thyself to the exercise of divine actions, the more thou dost seek to lift up thy heart, and the more vehemently that thou dost strive t●●●ite thyself wholly unto me, the more violently, wickedly & importunately do these imaginations assault thee, being stirred up either by the Devil, or by some timorous fearfulness of thy own, because as soon as thy soul doth begin to abhor and fear a thing, she doth presently feel and find the same which she feareth, or for which she is afraid. For fear and faintheartedness doth quickliest thrust into a man's mind that imagination which is feared. And the Devil also doth raise these perturbations and motions within thy soul, that whilst thou art busied in seeking to resist them, thou mayest be withholden from feeling the sweet taste of my charity, or else, being too much dismayed with them, thou mayest be afraid, and not presume to approach unto me.  
The Devil doth this, because he delighteth to entangle thy mind with scruples, and perturbations, and by them to hinder the Saboth of thy quiet rest. But do not regard them, do not fear them, do not answer them, do not resist them, do not observe them, but go forward in thy Godly devotion, and Holy exercise, as though thou felt nothing, and as though thy mind were troubled with nothing, and pass over all these filthy cogitations, as the barking of a Cur, or the hissing of a Goose, to which a man will disdain to make an answer, and will not stay either to contend or strive with them, but only pass by them, and laugh at them. In doing thus, thou shalt easily avoid & quickly forget them. But if thou seek to resist them, to dispute with them, to fear them, to regard them, to hearken unto them, and to remove them, thou shalt still the more deeply imprint them in thy mind, and the more dangerously entangle thyself with great perturbation. For these temptations are not vanquished by fight with them, but by contemning of them.  
Take heed also that no temptation on overcome thee by importunity, & by making thee weary to resist it, for this is an usual practice of the Devil to vex some with so long and troublesome a temptation that he overcometh those by tiring them with that wicked devise of his, whom he could neither deceive by subtlety, nor entice by pleasure. Wherefore thou hast need to be long suffering, constant, and patiented, & as thou oughtest to detest those wicked cogitations, which are thrown into thy mind by the craft of the Devil against my honour, and are brought in of purpose to seduce thee; so thou mayest in no sort either mislike or seek to shun that affliction which I send unto thee nor those heavy & troublesome burdens which thou feelest by my will and providence laid upon thee, nor yet that pain which thou takest in any conflict, when thou strivest to resist vice and iniquity, but thou oughtest for my sake to bear them patiently, and without any grudging.  
Of this also I am to warn thee, that if thou be tempted with any carnal vices, as gluttony and concupiscence, thou mayest more easily vanquish the by flying them, then by fight with them; but on the contrary part, all spiritual vices are ever overcome, not by slightly passing over them, but by staying with good consideration upon them, and doing the contrary of that to which they allure thee. For the temptation of pride is neither any whit diminished nor yet vanquished, by flying all occasions that may any way move thee to humble thyself, that is, by flying all the means that may procure humility in thee, in hope by that course to abate the force, and avoid the motions of that temptation. But if thou wilt overcome it, stay advisedly upon it, & enforce thyself to do those things that may humble thee. Thou shalt after the same sort overcome envy, if presently and violently, as it were in spite of her, thou dost those things from which she dissuadeth thee; that is, if thou speakest to thy brother, if thou seekest to do him service, if thou doest humble thyself unto him. In like manner also, thou shalt never conquer slothfulness by flying all travail, or by neglecting the divine honouring and serving of me, and by seeking to withdraw thyself, that thou mightest not be commanded to labour and take pains, but by enforcing thyself with all thy might, and by applying wholly of thy mind to practise and perform devout and virtuous exercises.   

How we ought to take head of Envy.  
BEware of envy as much as possibly thou canst, that by it thou be not brought to mislike with any man, to speak in derogation of him, to prefer thyself before him, to molest and vex him, and to be also thyself vexed, (if he be preferred before thee) with his virtue, with his honour, with his commendation, or with his spiritual profit. To overcome his temptation, be more courteous and lowly unto him (my daughter) then to another, speak nothing of him thyself, nor hear him spoken of in his absence, neither yet let any thing proceed from thee in word deed, or show, that may seem to savour of envy, or to spring from that venomous root.   

How we must fly singularity.  
Show not in thy conversation with others, any sad or unquiet countenance, but a courteous kind of behaviour, lest thy conversation seem troublesome or unpleasant unto them.  
Beware of being singular, and using any particular fashion by thyself, different from the rest in any unnecessary ceremony, act, or show of devotion, when thou art in other men's company, & as for those points which are profitable for thy soul, which thy calling and christian profession requireth at thy hands, and which are necessary, either for obtaining of virtue or avoiding of sins. Fear not to be singular in them, conform not thyself in those to other men's fancies, if they be careless of their own salvation: but rather resolve for the benefit of thine own soul, the obtaining of virtue, and the fulfilling of my good pleasure, constantly, humbly, and patiently, to bear all their derisions, and persecutions for the same.   

Of the honour, reverence, and worship which we ought to exhibit unto the Mother of God.  
SAlute my Mother often and zealously, with thy fervent prayers, and honour her ever with all reverence, & a principal devotion by seeking diligently to imitate both her life and her virtue. For I gave her to this world as a perfect example of sanctity, innocency, and purity, as a singular Patroness, and most safe refuge for all my servants, and as a Sanctuary of so great freedom to all those which are in misery and tribulation; as no man might have cause to mislike it, no man might fear to take it, nor yet be in doubt to approach unto it, and to that end I made her so meek, so virtuous, so merciful, so gentle, and so gracious as she might despise no man, deny her aid to no man, but ever lay open her bosom of pity before all men, & not to suffer any man to departed from her sad, nor without consolation.  
I made her also gracious, amiable, worthy to be beloved, and after a wonderful sort most sweet and delightful, to those which otherwise were desperate and obstinate sinners, that she might be a meet bait for my hook to catch all souls, but specially such as could by no other mean be taken, For those heinous sinners which break out of all other nets, & for whom I cannot find an apt course by any other way to draw them unto me: I use to catch by her mean, that is, by the veneration of her, & their devotion towards her, whom I make 〈◊〉 taste most sweet in their hearts, and excite those which are hard hearted toward me, to perform good works unto her, that is, acts of veneration, devotion, confidence, and invocation, and by this mean, I make them vessels fitter and worthier to receive my grace, and greater illumination from me, until they attain to a more reform, & for the most part, a most holy course of life. Recommend thyself daily therefore unto her protection, that by her help thou mayst rece●ue greater grace and favour at my hands. For I committed unto her custody the whole treasure of my grace and mercy, to be distributed and bestowed, when I recommended unto her all my sons in the person of john as her sons, but specially sinners, for whom I did at that present suffer. This she knoweth very well, and therefore is so careful and diligent to discharge the office she received from me, as she suffereth none of those (as far as lieth in her power) which were committed unto her, and principally such as call upon her to perish, but preferreth them unto me both with her earnest prayers, and by all the other means she is able, that they may be reconciled unto me, and percived again into my favour? dost thou think (than my daughter) that I could have chosen any more fit, and more meet for this business? Can I have found any that had been so apt and able every way to have discharged this office? Dost thou think that such as be sorrowful, desolate, and overwhelmed with their sins, will desire any other mediator for them unto me, which may sue more faithfully in their behalf, and be more graciously inclined to receive them, and more ready to bring them unto me, than this woman, this most humble, most pitiful, most meek, and most loving virgin, abounding with all sweetness & mercy, being most mighty of herself to relieve sinners, and most acceptable unto me because she is my mother, yea, even his mother whose wrath is to be pacified and appeased towards them?  
Alas, how far do they err? how great a burden of wilful obstinacy, and perdition do they heap upon their own backs, which do mutter and murmur against this holy Virgin, which hath the custody and bestowing of my graces, and will not acknowledge her for an advocate unto me as I am to my father? Dost thou think that they can by any means throw themselves more headlong into the bottomless pit of hell, then by making her their enemy (for whose sake I have so often spared the world, and so often forborn to power my wrath upon men) that when there is none to be a mediator for them, or to withhold my hand which is ready bend to punish them, I may without any let or impediment strike them as often and as much as I will? But what greater pain or punishment can I lay upon these men, than not to chasten them temporally here as children, but to deliver them over as my enemies into a reprobate sense, that they being blind may not see into what danger they run, until they find themselves drowned in perpetual darkness, and overwhelmed with eternal destruction.  
I do use these exhortations unto thee, as unto my spouse of mere love and good will, that being instructed by my spirit, thou mayst not decline either in this or in any other matter whatsoever, be it never so small, from the decrees and resolution of doctrine, which my holy Catholic Church hath determined and resolved upon, nor yet suffer thyself to be deceived by that wicked and malignant spirit of theirs, which pretend in show to be followers of the Gospel, and are in truth nothing less.   

Of sensible devotion.  
IF thou findest not sensible devotion, be not therefore grieved nor dejected in thy soul, but do with a stout and constant mind (although thou feelest it dry and barren) whatsoever thou knowest to be for my honour, and as much as thou art able to perform in that behalf. There are many which shedding tears do seem to have some spiritual devotion, and sweet taste in their soul, and yet their life is never a whit the holier, nor themselves at that time free from mortal sin, but it proceedeth from a certain tenderness of their heart, as is often seen in women, and also in men, that be by nature passionate and full of compassion. Have no confidence therefore in that devotion which doth not better & amend thy life▪ Thou shalt see some weep often, and be sorrowful for the death of a valiant Captain, whose worthy and famous acts, they have only read, though he were a Gentile or a Pagan. They will weep also sometime if they read a heaume parting, or a pitiful death of two constant lovers. What wonder is it then if they weep at my most holy and devout service, by seeing many pathetical things done in the worshipping of me, or by taking compassion of those things which I did suffer for them, or by rejoicing at that honour which is done unto me, and yet these tears proceed from a natural passion of their heart, without any virtuous intention or profitable fruit to their soul, as long as they do not my will, and fulfil my commandment? If therefore thou findest my heart hardened and barren, without such devotion, endeavour thou to have another kind of devotion, which is a true, perfect, and ready will, with a determined resolution to do all those things which may honour and please me.  
Moreover, for the want of the other, that is, sensible devotion, seek out the true cause and reason, lest perhaps thou hast lost that sweet taste in thy soul, by some dissolute motion, by lightness, by inordinate love, or unmeasurable joy, or lest thou hast been too much busied with earthly cogitations, or else, lest thou hast polluted thy soul with the spots of pride, or hast sought to please thine own fancy, or for some such other vice and offence. In which case thou oughtest to be rather grieved for the cause of this barrenness of thy soul, that is, thou oughtest to be more sorry for the fault which thou hast committed, then for the devotion which thou hast lost.  
Endeavour to cleave unto me, with a good and pure will, severed from earthly affections, and with a naked and simple understanding, far from conceiving of needles or unprofitable matters, and omit to do no good thing, that either thou wert accustomed to use before, or that may tend to my honour, but remain patiented with renouncing of thine own appetite, and expect my pleasure, with resigning of thyself wholly unto the same.  
And although somewhat at sometime do suddenly break out of thy sensual disposition and outward man, or remain boiling in thy mind, which is not convenient for thy profession, or else, if there arise any perturbations in thee, if thou sufferest any distress, if thou be oppressed with th● temptations of heaviness in thy soul, resisting or murmuring, take special care, that at the least thy inward and reasonable man, being subject unto me, continue settled in all tranquillity, in loving of my commandments, and in labouring to fulfil them.   

How we must prepare ourselves when we come to receive the blessed Sacrament.  
TO speak somewhat by the way of that preparation, which thou oughtest to make, when thou comest to receive the blessed Sacrament of my precious body, I am first to advertise thee, that thou shouldest not be discouraged, although thou dost not sensibly feel devotion in thee, yea, although thou findest thyself troubled with horrible temptations, and assaulted with some tedious imaginations, which do invade thy mind. For this sensible devotion of thy soul is not so necessary, but rather that reasonable devotion of thy will, whereby thou dost believe well of my Sacrament, and whereby (notwithstanding these blasphemous thoughts which do assail, and almost overwhelm thee) thou mayest be moved to do all honour and reverence to my Sacrament, although it be against thine appetite, contrary to thy liking, and repugnant to the sense or opinion of thine own heart: and lastly, that thou mayest by this enforcing of thyself, against thy carnal desire, find thy will ready & prepared with all obedience to honour me, to give me thanks, to resign thyself wholly unto me, and to subject thy mind so far to my liking, as that it may be best contented with that which agreeth most with my pleasure.  
If thou haste this devotion (my Daughter) which thy reasonable will may easily command and procure in thee, that is, if thou be sorry that thou haste ever offended me, and determined never to offend me again, but to endeavour as much as possibly thou canst in all things to obey my will, thou mayest come boldly unto this Sacrament, thou mayest enter securely into my presence, for neither reasonable; nor sensible devotion, neither virtue, nor yet my grace is obtained by flying from me, but by approaching near unto me. Therefore the more sadder, and the more desolate that thou findest thyself (yea, although it be at that time, when thou art going to confession, or to receive my blessed body, the more earnestly & vehemently excite and enforce thyself to proceed in thy good purpose, that thou mayest be made stronger in grace, more constant in goodness, & more fervent in love towards me. Provide always that thou carriest with thee a pure intention, & a good will, as I said before. Neither let it trouble thee, if even in coming to receive this blessed Sacrament, there doth enter some horror, & terror into thy soul, or if thou be scarce able presently to take and swallow the blessed host, or if thou find some gawlish kind of bitterness in thy taste, for these are not certain signs, that thou camest unworthily to it, but thou haste rather cause to mistrust that fear, fainthartednes, and continual custom of trembling, have procured this imagination in thee, which is strongest of all in women, & maketh thee to think that thou feelest those things indeed, which either thou dreadest to feel hereafter, or thou dost imagine that thou feelest at that present. But if thou couldst clean remove this fainthartednes, & fearful imaginations of thine, thou shouldest with it also clean expel this difficulty & distress which thou findest in thy mind. For albeit I could deliver thee from all these perturbations, yet do I permit, some such distress as these, to assault thee, and other of my servants, because I know it is the best mean either to keep all of you humble, or by humbling of you, to deliver you from the sin of pride, which is in women most usual. Be therefore stout, and carry a resolute mind, that shaking off all womanish fear, or fainthattednesse, and purging it from those filthy cogitations which do enter into thee by contemning of them and their persuasions, thou mayest with a quiet mind, and a pure conscience, wholly dedicated to my service, desire me, seek me, and receive me in the blessed Sacrament, which am and will always remain unto thee (if the fault be not in thy self) a most gracious lover, a most gentle protector, a most merciful redeemer, a most loving preserver, and a most faithful Saviour. But because thou mayest be inflamed with a greater reverence, love, and desire, toward this blessed Sacrament: I assure thee that without all doubt, my body is there sacramentally, delivered unto thee, to be received under the form of bread. Wherefore seeing it is the same body, which I now carry glorified in heaven, seeing it is no other, nor any like unto it, but even the very same, and seeing I carry not a body which is dead nor without blood, it followeth of necessity that together in the same body, there must be also contained my soul, my blood, my graces, and my virtues: to all which since the world is united, that is one person in Trinity, from the two other persons cannot be divided, but are inseparably united, it must also follow, that the whole Trinity is present in this Sacrament, as truly & as verily as they are in heaven, though in an other kind, that is, under a sacramental form. The same opinion thou must in like sort have of the Chalice, the new Testament in my blood, consider therefore now with thyself, with how great willingness and desire, thou oughtest to come unto this Sacrament, seeing that thou haste in it true salvation, and that thou hast me really, and perfectly there, which am the author of all thy happiness. And because I would not have thee drawn from it, with too much timorousness of thy conscience, or with too great a fear of the reverence and Majesty thereof; I have commanded thee to come unto it, and to receive it for a commemoration of me, assuring thee, that my delight is to be with the Children of men, and that I do much rejoice when I may do any of you good, & to knock at the gate of your hearts, that being entered in●, I may sup with you, and both feed and refresh your hungry spirit within myself. And to what other end do I all these things, but only to procure you to have a hope and confidence in me, with a love and desire to come unto me, and not to withdraw yourselves from so profitable and necessary a Sacrament, or to deprive your souls of that infinite and inestimable fruit, which you shall receive thereby, for fear of being made unworthy by these temptations which you feel against your will, and therefore are not by them polluted with any sin.   

Of discretion.  
AS humility must be the guide of ●●all thy exercises, so let discretion rule and moderate them, lest they hurt thee, or make thee unable to do thy duty, or lest the greater benefits and better exercises of thy soul be hindered by the outward exercises of thy body, which are not so good, nor so profitable: and to conclude, least by exercising of any virtuous act, thou dost somewhat offend in breach of charity.  
Have consideration also of the infirmity of thy body, and take care that thou consume not thy strength, if thou be weak, and govern all thy intents, studies and exercises by the direction of such as fear me, or are thy superiors, leaving or lessening them, increasing or moderating them according to their will and counsel.  
Wherefore, if thy superior which hath the charge of thy soul, as being my deputy, and discharging of that office in my steed toward thee, forbid thee to fast, or any other thing that is not in itself sin, obey him, believing that he knowing thy ability every way, doth advise and command thee, to that which may be fittest and most necessary for thy salvation.  
And therefore (my Daughter) if thou be bidden to eat eight times in a day, thou shalt not in obeying it, offend me: Nevertheless, retain still a will to fast, when thou haste liberty to use thine own discretion, But if for obedience sake, thou eat, thou shalt by eating receive of me a double reward whereas otherwise by fasting, thou shouldest have had but ●●e he a single. For thy good will to fast, and the fruit of thy good will is not lost, if thou eatest to show only thy obedience, but being done for obedience sake, it is together with obedience crowned, and rewarded in thee. In like sort it is in all other things, which thou desirest of thine own will to do, and art enforced to omit only to show thy obedience.  
Seek daily, desire earnestly, stu●●●e continually to set forth and advance my glory, as much as thou art able, and wheresoever thou canst, & to fulfil my will, both in thyself and in all other. Neglect to do no good work that thou hast▪ ability to perform, but go forward in goodness ecurie day, and strive alway to increase in virtue, but neither glory norre●●oyce in thyself for all the travail, study, and exercise which thou usest in doing of good works, neither be thou comforted with it, as though thou hadst any thing, wert any thing, or able to do any thing of thyself, but fix thine eyes ever upon thine own baseness, and imbecility, remembering that thou art merely nothing, but of my grace, and therefore ascribe all the good thou dost to me only.  
There be some which are not contented with that correction of their flesh which I do lay upon them, but do torment their bodies with undiscrete abstinence, and immoderate afflictions, and make themselves by that mean not only unapt, and unable to obey me, to follow my steps, & to endure the conflicts of this spiritual battle: but also being tired and consumed in their natural strength by this undiscrete dealing, are enforced to leave those exercises which they were wont to use before; and to take more care of their flesh, then is requisite or convenient, for repairing of that which was decayed by their own folly. Wherefore moderate thou thy exercises and labours according to the proportion of thy force and ability, lest thou dost surcharge and overthrow thyself, and fail not by good means to nourish thy body, it is my will, that thou shouldest comfort nature, and repair from time to time, thine infirmity, not with an extraordinary care or delight, but for the refreshing of nature, as I said before. And for the better inhabting of thy body to do me service, to yield thyself a fit instrument of my grace, to fulfil my will, to follow my commandment, & to do those works which are most acceptable in my sight, being always as ready if it be my pleasure, to suffer poverty, as to enjoy riches, and as willing to be sick as to be whole. But when thou shalt not be compelled by discretion to nourish thy body for infirmity of nature, take heed least by impatiency or want of devotion, or of an insatiable desire to please thine own appetite, thou seekest evasions to escape, and deliver thyself from those adversities or troubles which I send thee. But remember to receive such crosses, as are of my sending gladly, sustain them patiently, complain of them to no body, bear them with long suffering, and stay with all meekness expecting of my pleasure. Suffer me to deal with thee, as I think fit, that by that tribulation that falleth upon thee, my grace may work some good effect in thee. This is much better and more profitable for thee, then that which of thine own head thou layest upon thyself. For I would have thee to be fully persuaded (my Daughter) that I never permit thee to suffer any tribulation, but that it is for thy good, & for the purging and repairing of thy soul, which is weakened or impaired by sin, if thou wouldst believe me, and refer thyself wholly unto me, by bearing it with silence, & wait my leisure by patiented suffering thereof, for I will come at the last, who am never absent from thee, but am always ready in all places to assist thee.  
Beware therefore that thou dost not despise those afflictions which I do send and lay upon thee, for I will guide thee in them; rely upon me, trusting in my providence, and love towards thee, and not in thine own will or ability. Be content that I & other men do afflict thee: in the mean time, do not thou persecute thy flesh, but thy faults, and endure with patience whatsoever shall happen unto thee.   

How we ought in all things to conform ourselves unto Christ.  
A Faithful spouse ought to be so loving to her husband, as she should desire with all her heart ever to be with him, never without him, and at no time from him, she should wish to conform herself in all things unto her husbands mind, and be glad when she were in any thing like unto him. After the same manner thou must be have thyself. Consider my life, my actions, & my virtues, whereby thou mayest learn what I love, & what doth please me in thee. Now if thou wilt be a faithful spouse, (O soul) thou oughtest to desire nothing so much as to please me, and to frame thyself in all things agreeable to my will. Wheresoever therefore that I go, desire to accompany me, whatsoever I do, study to imitate me, whatsoever I suffer, be ready to suffer with me, and if by any occasion thou feelest tribulation, rejoice in it, because by it, thou art made like unto me. Consider and recount with thyself every one of my virtues, or at the least the principal, whereby thou mayest stir up a desire in thy mind to imitate and follow me. It shall be an easier labour for thee then, to cut off, mortify, and raze out all those things, which are contrary and unlike to my course of life, that is, thy vices, thy wicked inclinations, and corrupt affections. And as I said before, thou shalt attain to such a habit of well doing in time by a studious will, a watchful care, and continual travail, that thou mayest come hereafter to drive away that, (as it were) with one blast of wind, which thou canst now scarce scrape away with a file of iron.   

Of Poverty.  
BEhold therefore first my poverty, who when I was rich made myself poor for thy sake: how I came to mine own, and mine did not receive me: how I was very poor, and as a stranger & sojourner in a foreign land: how my mother being lodged in an Inn as a guest in a strange place, I was borne in a stable before the mouths of beasts, which by the heat of their breath might defend me from the bitter cold, being laid upon hay in a manger: how I was redeemed with the Sacrifice of poor innocents: how being an infant I was driven into banishment, brought up by the labour of my Mother, and fed by alms at other folks cost, having neither house nor lodging of mine own: how I watched often in the mountains: how I was spoiled of all my garments at the time of my passion, & died naked upon the Cross: being in so great want of all things, as I could not have a drop of water in my most extreme thirst, to refresh my dried tongue: Lastly, how after my death I was buried in the grave that was made for another. Moreover how often dost thou think that I suffered in the whole course of my life, hunger, cold, thirst, and other vexations of my body? and as for corporal consolation (which most men do think very necessary) I refused, and utterly rejected is, patiently enduring penury and poverty in all things. But thou when thou hast every thing ready at hand, that thou canst desire, thou dost flatter thyself, & thinkest that thou livest in poverty, and dost repine if thou canst not have every other thing that thou wantest, although it be merrily superfluous, and more to please thy curious mind, then to serve thy necessary use.  
Look therefore upon my poverty, and leave to be sad, and cease to be offended, if thou seest any man preferred before thee, or endued with greater abundance than thyself: why art thou not rather grieved like a good emulatresse? if thou see any man poorer than thyself, as (Saint Francis was,) if thou perceivest any man (which opinion thou oughtest to carry of all men) more agreeable to my life and poverty than thyself: this should be a good kind of emulation, not to be grieved with other men's happiness, or for that they are better than thou art, but to be heartily sorry because thou art not good thyself, & that it proceedeth of thine own fault and negligence.  
Rejoice therefore & receive it, for a special token of thy grace, for an exceeding benefit, if I make thee more agreeable to myself, than other men, by sending thee some grievous sickness, some extreme poverty, misery, misfortune, or contempt in this world. And if thou wantest necessary things rejoice, if they be taken away, be glad, and complain of it to no man, but embrace with me the cross of poverty, being quiet and contented in thy mind, using silence and utterly renouncing of thine own self.  
What doth it profit thee (my Daughter) if thou haste for my sake forsaken the world, her riches, her glory, and the comfort of thy friends, & art now troubled about a thing not worth a straw, or haste not yet abandoned all love from such vanities as are of no value, but are ready to fight to be vexed, and to contend either for desire to attain them, or for fear to lose them, and are not afraid in this be half, to break peace and charity with thy neighbour? Determine therefore now, and make a firm resolution from the bottom of thy heart, to contemn all things for the love of me, and be unwilling to possess any thing, but even such as of necessity thou art enforced to use, delighting in all poverty, contempt, and penury, that thou mayest be worthy to enjoy me, who as I am better and more profitable for thee then a thousand worlds; so ought I to be more esteemed, and more dearly beloved of thee, than all earthly things whatsoever, Why stayest thou my daughter? be encouraged with my example, be inflamed with my love, & seek earnestly in every thing that appertaineth to thyself, to live in all want and poverty. Moreover think other men worthy of my consolation, because they be my faithful servants, being far better than thyself, and not so unthankful as thou art. And therefore being moved with charity, and as it were enforced with compassion, suffer no man to want any thing, that thou may est supply, but help all men with thy travail, thy service, thy friendship, and by all the other means that are within the compass of thine ability. Whatsoever thou haste, think it to be other men's, that neither thou mayest love it when thou possessest it, nor be grieved when thou losest it; Whatsoever thou doest enjoy, think it is given thee for other men's use, and to serve their necessity.   

Of Humility.  
DEtest and abhor with all thy heart, the honour, glory, and favour of men, with all other flatteries, and enticements of this decaitfull world. Think no otherwise of thyself, but as a proud man, unthankful to me, spiteful against me, & therefore (if I should reward thee according to thy deserts) worthy to be hated above all creatures, as one unworthy to be borne by the earth, to receive breath by the air, or to be nourished & served by any of my creatures. Wherefore ask always at my hands mercy and grace, not relying upon any work or merit of thine own, but trusting altogether in that only work of redemption which I finished for thee, and that unspeakable mercy which I showed towards thee.  
Desire of me with tears, & sighs perfect humility, that by it thou mayest delight to lie hidden & unknown, to be contemned and had in estimation.  
Endeavour as much as thou canst to love those things which are most vile, and show greatest humility. Choose likewise both to do and to have those things which are most abject, and which other men do most despise, thinking thyself more base and less worthy, than those things that are most vile. Seek not to set forth in thyself any thing that may savour of estimation, or glory, or that may show as it were any singular gift in thee, except thou be enforced to it by necessity, or of mere charity for the glory of God. Glory in nothing, neither yet boast thyself of any thing that is in thee. And if any man do offend or contemn thee, take heed thou be not angry with him for it, neither use him with worse countenance in show, nor bear him less good will in thy heart. But rather marvel that every creature doth not persecute thee to be revenged of the iviurie thou dost to me, that am creator both of thee and all them, and whom notwithstanding thou art nothing at all afraid to offend.   

How Humility is to be obtained.  
TO obtain humility, consider & behold my Majesty, my omnipotency, my wisdom, & my goodness, who only am immortal, only infinite, passing all measure, without all limitation, or circumscription, inspeakable, incomprehensible, from whom all creatures receive their being, & who am able with a beck, both to bring all creatures and the whole world unto nothing, and again presently to restore all things to their former course and order. Therefore seeing I am every way of so great power, you may easily perceive that I created you, which are reasonable creatures, according to mine own Image, not for necessity, or for any need that I had of you, but of my charity and goodness towards you, as persons upon whom I meant to bestow my benefits, and with whom I would impart my felicity. From which grace, since you fell by sin, whereby you made yourselves, not only unworthy of eternal life, but justly deserved eternal fire: I being incarnate for your sakes, suffered three and thirty years hunger, thirst, cold, heat, miseries, labours persecutions, contempts, reproaches, stripes, blows, wounds, griefs, torments, and lastly the Cross, and death itself, that I might deliver you from eternal death, which you had incurred by your own deserts. I lived (my Daughter) in the world not as God, not as a mighty person, nor in a glorious show, but as the poorest, vilest, basest, & most contemptible of all others, being subject to many torments and sundry reproaches, until at the last I was slain, with a most shameful and ignominious death, which the world did think I had justly deserved, for they judged both my life and Doctrine to be detestable, as they thought it fit to root them, both out of all men's memory, & to make them end with my death, whereat a great multitude of people being present, did triumph and rejoice. Yet went I as gladly to suffer it, as the heart doth to the Fountains of water, nay being made drunk with my love towards thee, I ran unto it, and was never well until I had endured it. I spared not myself, neither fled I any labour, grief, pain or torment whatsoever. I refused to do nothing that might be for thy profit, thou wert so dear and precious in my sight, that I did even long with a desire to deliver myself for thy sake, to be wounded in all parts, with sundry kinds of torments, and for thy sake also at the last to end my life with a shameful death.  
Moreover, because I did vehemently thirst after thy salvation, I desired to shed all my blood for thee, which I did in such plentiful sort, as I left no one drop thereof remaining within my body.  
But how dost thou (O my Daughter) requite me now for all this? what dost thou render again unto me in recompense of so great charity? Is it not even thou which being unthankful to me so many years, didst despise myself, didst not regard my words, didst loath my service, and didst transgress my commandments? and yet showing all reproach towards me being most unclean & vile in my sight, being altogether polluted, with so many filthy abominations, thou dost banish me from thee, thou dost reject my inspirations, thou committest fornication with my creatures, thou abusest my gift. What? why dost thou still contemn and forsake me, notwithstanding that I delivered thee, out of most heinous sins, and from eternal damnation itself (wherein thou hadst justly lain burning many years since, if my mercy had not prevented thee.) To be short, why wilt thou despise me, seeing I have so often preserved thee, from committing of many offences, and also raised thee out of the bottomless gulf of sin and wickedness? What? dost thou not yet at length consider, that thou art vile, miserable, and merely nothing, but by my grace? and how then darest thou lift up thy up thy face, to behold me, whom thou hast so often offended, so long time despised, so sundry ways contemned? I speak these things (my Daughter) to the end that thou shouldest know thyself.  
Consider how vile and filthy, thou art in thy body, how much polluted in thy soul, and how impure in thy heart. And lastly remember, how unclean thou haste altogether made thyself with wicked works, with filthy cogitations, with corrupt & unpure affections, and yet nevertheless how still I forbear to punish thee, nay notwithstanding all this, how I declare my love towards thee, with pouring my benefits daily upon thee, but how long must I do this? till what time must I forbear thee? when wilt thou come to know thyself? how long wilt thou stay to return unto me? why dost thou not humble thyself vn● my yoke? dost thou not see, that I am not longer able to withhold my mercies from thee? dost thou not perceive how I have called thee? in what place I have planted thee? where are thy fruits? dost thou not know how I wink at all thine iniquities, all thine abominations, all thy unthankfulness? Yet speak I not these things (O my Daughter to upbraid thee with those benefits which I have heaped upon thee, but as it were languishing with love of thee, and as it were, seeming to stand in need of thee, (though in deed I stand in need of nothing) yea, being as it were not able to live without thee, I do invite thee to love me again, for that unspeakable goodness and charity which I have showed towards thee, that by loving me, thou mayest perfectly see, what I am, and what thou art: how much I have done for thee, & how injurious on the contrary part, thou haste showed thyself unto me for the same.  
Moreover consider, how many and innumerable souls are in hell at this day, and how thou hast been far more wicked than they, and more justly deserved that room, if thou hadst not been withholden from it by my grace: imagine likewise, that if they had received as much grace from me, as thou haste done, they would have showed themselves much more thankful unto me than thou haste been, If thou considerest all these things, that is, my Majesty, and thine own baseness, how proud thou art in thy baseness, and how humble I was in my Majesty: how far for thy sake I abased myself to all poverty and contempt, it would not seem so great a matter to thee, to humble thyself. If I say, thou wouldst rightly ponder with thyself, in how much poverty, in how abject estate, and in how great contempt, I being so mighty, so rich, of so high dignity, that is exceeding all measure in majesty, and infinite in goodness, and incomprehensible in them both: was content to serve thee so base, and so vile a creature, scarce worthy the name of man; yea, and did it with so great charity, fidelity, and desire: there would by the impression of these thoughts be bred in thy heart, so great an obedience towards me, so great a reverence of me, and so great a desire to serve & adore my majesty, as can neither be expressed in words, nor conceived in thought. It would procure moreover in thee, an insatiable desire, and most burning thirst, to honour me, to worship me, to exalt me, & to contemn, humble, and despise thyself, and for the love of me, to throw thyself under the feet of all my creatures, and beside, patiently to endure reproaches, contempt and injury, at all their hands. For though thou dost humble thyself never so far, though thou bearest never so much, yet thou shouldest think that thou hadst endured nothing in respect of the thirst and desire thou feelest in thine own mind, to abase thyself, and exalt me, in so much that thou shouldest most love those which did seek most to oppress and despise thee, because they did serve in this behalf, to satisfy thine earnest desire, and thy humility, when they sought so much to humble and abase thee. If thou feelest not (my Daughter) these things as yet in thyself, acknowledge how unthankful thou art, and how far from true humility, which is a sincere and lowly submission of thy heart in the sight of my divine majesty. After which followeth ever a contempt of thine own self; and a will likewise not only to be despised of others, but even by them to be acknowledged most vile.  
I exhort thee once again (my Daughter,) to look into my humility, and to take example by it, how thou shouldest humble thyself. See how the world despised my life, and doctrine, how they did falsely accuse, & utterly reject me, how they backbited me in all their speeches, how great reproaches scorn, contempts, and derisions I suffered, even as a reprobate of most vile persons, and for most vile & unthankful creatures. Yet being thus mocked, and made most abject as a scorn of all men, yet I despised no man, neither did I excuse myself, nor any way sought in speech to resist or reprove them.  
Recount also with thyself (O unthankful creature, which art worthy to be despised) thine own obstinacy, negligence, sins, ingratitude, inconstancy, vileness, & lastly, how thou art nothing of thyself, but by my grace only. Bewail, lament, and excuse thyself of all these before me with continual tears. Whatsoever shall happen unto thee, turn it to thine own benefit, and use it as a mean to make thee humble. Take heed that thou takest not pleasure in thyself, but rather wonder how thou canst please or delight any other, if they did rightly know thee. Ever fix the eyes of thy heart upon the consideration of thine own weakness, and disability in all respects.  
Consider how thou art nothing, & what thou oughtest to be and art not. Likewise what thou haste not, & how unable thou art to do any good: how many things thou wantest; and to be short, how far thou art from true & perfect charity: & from the perfection of a holy man's life.  
Call to mind also how unlike, and how liittle agreeable thou art unto me, and remember that merely, thou haste no good thing at all of thyself, but receivest all good things from me only, without any other mean whatsoever.  
Moreover make account that thou haste of thyself these things, and no other at all; that is, an apt inclination to sin, to offend to rebel, to stand in need of all good things, to be in necessity and misery, and by thine own fault both to lose & overthrow all those blessings & graces which I bestowed upon thee. For it is most certain, that if I should leave the nature of man, to her own liberty, & to do that whereunto she is most inclined: she would do no good at all, but decline every day from worse to worse, seeing she runneth so vehemently headlong now to commit wickedness: notwithstanding, that I do so earnestly forbidden her, and in a manner violently withhold her. For the nature of man is nothing, and hath nothing of herself, and laboureth after that which is nothing. If thou didst continually meditate upon this, it would help thee very much for procuring of humility. There must be a so notwithstanding joined unto this, an other kind of humiliation, for thy hidden and unknown imperfections, which for the most part are very grievous, although thou being purblind dost not perceive them. Fall therefore prostrate for these before the feet of my mercy, & bewail from thy heart, thy incurable aptness, and infirmity to commit sin neither think ever otherwise of thyself, then of one that is guilty of many faults, blind ●n many things, and most unthankful of all creatures.   

How we ought not to care for men's judgements.  
TRouble not thy mind with imagining what men think of thee, nor what censure they give of thee, neither yet fear their judgement, so long as thou dost not wittingly (as far as lieth in thy power) give them any scandal or occasion justly to reprehend or backbite thee. For thou art neither the better if they commend thee, nor the worse if they dispraise thee. But thou art in truth as I account thee, and as thou showest to be in my sight. Therefore let not the commendation of any other rejoice thee, nor yet their dispraises grieve thee. For what dost thou gain by the commendation of others? nothing truly: But it doth rather many times greatly hurt thee, because it deceiveth thee, and puffeth thee up with pride and vanity: And on the contrary part, what can the contempts, reprehension, abasing, backbiting, condemnation, and persecution of men hurt thee? Truly nothing at all, but rather they prositte thee much, for they bring thee to know thyself, and help thee not a little, to obtain humility of life, and amendment of thy manners. For by it thou shalt be made more wary and wise, in thy conversation with men, & not to trust in them, but to put all thy confidence in me.  
The judgement of men therefore is not much to be cared for, whether they speak good or evil of thee: Let them think what they will, in the mean time lift thou up thy heart unto me, and if by searching every secret corner of thy heart, thou findest nothing in it that may offend me, fear nothing, but if by this examination thou findest somewhat, wherein thou hast offended me, bewail thy fault, not because men do despise thee, (for thou oughtest then justly both to suffer and desire that) but because thou haste offended me, and also given other men by thine example occasion to sin. But if any thing be commended or dispraised in thee, which is not sin, be not otherwise or more moved therewith, then if some other man were commended or dispraised.  
If men praise thee, ascribe it to their error and good will towards thee: if they reprove thee, or condemn thee, marvel not at it. For what marvel is it, if men reprove, despise, and condemn thy life, seeing they also reproved my life, and condemned all my Doctrine, which was most innocent, void of all spot, and which could by no means be justly reprehended.  
Rejoice rather, that thou art come to walk in those steps, which I had trodden before, that is, if being humbled and accounted as a cast away of all men, and be glad that thou sufferest these persecutions of men. Let others imagine mischief against thee, I will return their mischiefs to thy benefit: only endure thou all patiently, and be silent.  
Study in all things to please me, and not men: and yet if thou chancest to please men, think that they are deeeived in their opinion of thee: because they know thee not as well as I do, but do judge thee through their own simplicity, according to that appearance of goodness which they see in thy outward show. But if thou dost displease them, impute it to thine own deserts, & let it make thee more humble, for if they do despise thee for so little faults, as they are able to see in thee, what would they do, if they saw as perfectly as I, all thy sins and offences? Delight therefore to be accounted vile & contemptible, & though thou be despised never so much, yet think that thou deservest to be a great deal more despised than thou art.  
Thou oughtest to account thyself most miserable, most unworthy, most unthankful, and most needing my grace and mercy, of all other creatures, remembering always that of thyself thou art merely nothing, and that all thy works which are without me, neither savour any thing of virtue, nor yet are any thing worth. Whosoever is most wicked, think him better, and more worthy of heaven than thyself. Believe that other men do merit, & think that thou art tolerated here by my mercy only. Presume not therefore in these respects, to compare thyself with any man, but imagine that thou hast offended me more than all men, and that thou art more vile and unthankful to me, than any creature that liveth: because whatsoever is of thyself, either is nothing at all, or else is sin. Wherefore to extol or magnify thyself, by the mean of those gifts, which thou hast wholly received from me is intolerable, and a point of most arrogant pride, For the preventing whereof, and for thy greater profit, I do often withdraw from thee my sensible blessings, because thou knowest not how to use them, but abuse them, in turning them only to the magnifying of thyself, whereas in truth thou oughtest to challenge or ascribe nothing to thyself, but wholly attribute all unto me. Take heed therefore that in the petitions which thou makest unto me, thou hast no respect to thyself, but to me only, lest thou show thyself unthankful towards me by pride, or detestable in my sight by thine own negligence. Remember how thou art nothing of thyself, how quick lie thou art vanquished, when I do not protect thee: and consider how thou art not able to endure the smallest adversity, or overcome the weakest temptation, when I fight not for thee. For of thine own ability thou haste no other power in the world, but only to corrupt and pollute what good thing so ever I bestow upon thee.  
Thou art too apt (my Daughter) to dispraise other men, which is a token without doubt of great arrogancy, as though thou wert worthy to be preferred before those which, thou so discommendest, because thou perhaps wantest that vice, whereof thou accusest them, and yet are subject to many other.  
If thou wert not blind, thou mightest perceive that thou deservest not by this kind of dealing, in any sort to be preferred before them: but rather thine own tongue maketh thee more detestable than they, because it discovereth openly, thine arrogancy or envy. My friends are wont to reprove, & accuse themselves of their own vices, and not to find fault with others: for they suspect both their works, & themselves, neither will they trust themselves in any thing, because they have been by that mean so often deceived. For they ●eare always that they seek not me with such sincerity as they ought, Beside they wonder at, and commend other men's works, for they will not be brought to suspect any evil of their neighbours.  
Therefore do thou always either praise or excuse others, or else say nothing at all, having ever before thine eyes, only thine own vileness, and unthankfulness, and wondering that all men do not reprove and detest thee.  
Thou canst not (my Daughter) obtain humility, except thou love to be humbled, for it is of necessity that a mind disposed to be humbled, must ever go before humility. Receive therefore all things which I send unto thee, as means to humble thee. Delight also to be humbled and contemned of others: Suffer thy good name to be slandered. Hold thou thy peace, and refer thy cause unto me. I know better than thou dost how to defend thy good name. But if thou fightest for thyself, thou needest not my protection. If thou dost with humility and patience, bear all, and be silent: I will choose a time wherein I will answer for thee. Do not thou by defending of thyself, prevent my gracious determination towards thee. I will fight for thee, and will have thee to be patiented and silent.   

Of Obedience.  
OBedience, is a most excellent virtue, and most acceptable unto me, that work which in itself is vilest, & least of all others (if it be done merrily for obedience only) it is better accepted of me, and more profitable & meritorious unto him that doth it: then infinite others, which men do voluntary, and to please their own appetite. Neither canst thou offer unto me (believe me my Daughter) a more Noble and worthy Sacrifice, then to present me with an humble heart, obedient and ready, to do all things that I shall command. For it may so fall out, as a man by obedience only, may cleave, leave, and forsake himself for my sake, and so profit more, by denying of his own will, and be monre inwardly united unto me, then if he had bestowed much time, in other most noble exercises. Wherefore thou oughtest (my Daughter) to be always as obedient unto me, as if I were ever present with thee in a corporal form, and that thou didst as continually enjoy my presence, as a wife doth her husband, with whom she dwelleth.  
When any man shall call thee from me, to do some act of obedience, thou oughtest to leave me, & obey him. For this is not a forsaking of me, but a forsaking of thyself: because thou preferrest my honour and my will, before thine own commodity and consolation, in that thou dost according to my commandment deny thyself, and seekest not thine own commodity, but the benefit of others. In this sort shouldest thou relinquish thyself, and all care to please thyself, or to seek thine own commodity. For so shouldest thou not leave me, but find that which is a hundred times more worthy and profitable for thee then those things which thou forsakest.  
Learn therefore to leave thyself for my sake, that is, by denying of thine own will, to want that fruit, that consolation, and that profit which thou desirest to reap, for by doing thy duty in this sort, both thou honour'st me, and not only losest nothing in thy profit: but also obtainest things (though it be by an other mean) that are an hundred timies better. Wherefore esteem nothing so precious, neither account thou any thing so profitable, as that thou wilt not be drawn from it willingly, for obedience sake, with a mind wholly resigned to my pleasure. For whatsoever the thing be that for the love of it, either thou refusest to perform thine obedience, or comest to do it grudgingly, or unwillingly, it is the Idol of thine own appetite: more pernicious to thee, than can be expressed. If thou be in a place where thou haste no superior, or where thyself is superior; make all men thy superiors, obeying their will, and forsaking thine own. Marry do it not of slothfulness, but wheresoever thou mayest even of thine own desire, and of purpose to renounce thyself for my sake.  
love the virtue of obedience from the bottom of thy heart, and leave it not as long as thou livest, not only to thy superiors but also yield, obey, and subject thyself, (whensoever thou art not restrained by my will) in all things, and to all men for my sake, and that without being grieved with it, repining at it, and disputing about it. And because thou mayest do this the more frankly, respect not the man, who by my ordinance is thy superior, whether he be learned or meet for the office; neither seek to mark or consider, whether he be learned or unlearned, an excellent man, or a base person. But have regard to this only, that he is by my providence made thy superior, by whom I will govern thee, and in whom thou oughtest to hear me. Ask counsel of me, and obey me. Therefore resist not but yield to this my providence, seeing if I appoint such a man, I have as much care to rule thee, and to make thee subject unto me by the mean of so simple a person, as by him that is learned: Yea, I have the like regard of thy well doing, by any whomsoever it shall be my pleasure to appoint over thee. Wherefore I would have thee subject thyself unto him, without any servile fear, or scruple of thy conscience, and despising thine own counsel, and wisdom. Submit thyself to be governed by his judgement and opinion. Whatsoever he shall determine or appoint thee, accept it from his mouth as from mine own. For I place such superiors over my servants sometime, as have small learning, & are little practised in those execises, to the end that they should not regard man's wisdom, or respect in the man himself: but rather me in the man, that am their God, and as well able to answer them by a simple man (if they can have faith and confidence in me) as by a learned. And therefore, whatsoever they shall be answered, or howsoever they shall be counseled at his hand, let them receive it, not as from a man, but as from myself, attributing all to me and my direction: and ascribing nothing to the man, whether he be wise or simple.  
If thou wouldst not therefore go astray, walk in the path of obedience, and do nothing at all without the counsel of thy Pastor or Ghostly Father, or superior.  
Live always in simplicity and poverty of spirit, renouncing quite thine own judgement, thine own counsel, thine own sense, and thine own opinion, neither take any occasion at any time to complain or murmur, esteeming that always best which thy superior, or (if thou haste none) what other shall think fittest, as long as it is not manifest and apparent sin. And therefore fully to mortify and kill in thyself thine own will, thou shouldest not only be obedient unto men, but also subject thyself unto all my creatures for my sake.  
For thou oughtest so much to hate thine own will, and thou shouldest so much desire to extinguish it, that thou shouldest live amongst men wheresoeve thou be'st, even as if thou wert clean without any will of thine own; that is, as if thou madest no election or choice of any one thing more than an other, but accepted of all things indifferently, that chanced unto thee, excepting this only, that an other man's will (if thou knowest it) must ever please thee better than thine own, so that it be without sin. and that honesty and discretion be observed in it.  
Yield therefore unto all men in those things which do properly and only belong unto thyself, in such sort as if thou hadst professed obedience to them all.  
Nay, whensoever thou shalt be alone, do not thine own will, but dispose of thyself so, as thy whole course of life, and all thy exercises may tend to the renouncing of thyself. For this shall be better and more profitable unto thee than the joys of Paradise. And whensoever that my will shallbe made known unto thee, whether it be by inward inspiration, or by the Scripture, or by thy superior, or by some other creature of mine, or by any other means what soever: Whensoever also that thou shalt be inwardly admonished by me, strait despise all that thou haste of thyself, as thine own counsel, thine own judgement, thine own appetite, thine own opinion, thine own liking, or thine own inclination, and follow my will. But thou must have a special care wisely to learn what my will is, lest thou may est think that thou art governed by my spirit; when in truth thou art directed by thine own, or else by the spirit of error or deceit. To avoid this therefore, do all things according to the counsel of thy superior, and submit thyself wholly to his will and direction.   

How we must mortify our own will and desire.  
NOthing can do thee mischief (O Daughter) but thine own will, which if thou hast once mortified, no other creature can hurt thee, if thou be'st dead to thyself, and hast mortified thine own desire. That is, if these words, or rather the affection of these words, be mortified in thee, to wit, I, and me, and to me, and mine, which is as much to say, as if there be no respect in the world in thee, to please thyself, or to serve thine own appetite: who could hurt thee when I live in thee, and thou in me, whom no creature can resist, but is enforced to serve? Marry if thou wilt follow or retain still within thee thine own will: all things will resist thee, all things will fight against thee, and in despite of thy teeth, whether thou wilt or no, thou must yield in the end, and canst no way escape my providence, although it will be then as a cross to torment thee, and not as a consolation to rejoice thee.  
But if thou renouncest quite thine own will, thou shalt taste an inward peace and joy, which that sensual appetite of thine, neither knoweth nor is able to conceive: for nothing troubleth the world, but every bodies seeking to please their own appetite. Therefore I said to my Disciples: in the world, that is, in those things which are of the world, to wit, your own desires, which the world seeketh to satisfy: you shall have distress, but have confidence, for I have overcome the world, that both you may overcome in me, and have peace in me also. Begin therefore thou also and taking out this lesson, both mortify and pluck up by the very roots all the desires of the world, and all self love out of thy heart. Otherwise how canst thou overcome the world or the Devil, if they have their army within thee; that is, if they have vices lodged within thy soul? Throw out quickly whatsoever is in thee, contrary to my will: and whatsoever fighteth against thee: in thy spiritual warfare. For neither the world nor the Devil can ever come to vanquish thee, or in a manner to resist thee, but by the help of those things which they possess in thee. Wherefore they which do persecute thy vices, which do oppress thee, which show unto thee, and lay before thine eyes, thine own weakness: to be short, which offend thee, that is, which offend thine own will in thee, and consequently thyself, because thine own will and self love reigneth in thee. (For otherwise they could not offend thee, for that these things, to wit, thyself will, and thyself love, are only hurt and offended:) they therefore (as I said) which do thus offend thine own will in thee, which show thee how thou haste not mortified thine own appetite, are thy special friends and benefactors. These thou oughtest to love, and with all to be glad, because they do persecute thine own appetitie, which is thy worst adversary, and only dangerous enemy. Therefore if thou wilt wisely use, and take the benefit of this occasion, the more stronger thou shalt grow, & the greater force thou shalt have.  
The less rule that thine own appetite hath over thee, the more interest have I still in thee, and the further that it is banished from thee, the more fully do I possess thee, because following of thine own will, if it do thee no other hurt, yet it doth ever certainly bring this mischief upon thee, that it suffereth not me to have operation & possession in thee. Wherefore it depriveth thee of me which am infinite goodness itself. For though thou labournever so much, and devise never so many means, thou shalt never find any other way to come unto me then this, which I have taught my Disciples, saying: He that will come after me, let him deny himself, that is, let him leave, mortify, and quite forsake his own will, take up his cross and follow me. Begin therefore with this, for this of necessity thou must do, whatsoever thou forsakest, if thou forsakest not thyself, thou hast forsaken nothing. And contrariwise, if thou possessest not thyself, but leavest thyself to be possessed by me, thou hast forsaken all things for my sake, although thou livest in all abundance of wealth & honour. The more that thou goest out of thyself, the farther do I enter into thee, and as much as thou dost die unto thyself, so much do I live in thee. If thou displeasest thyself, I will be the sweeter unto thee.  
Forsake therefore all things, that thou mayest find all things, that is, forsake thyself, that thou mayest find me. How long wilt thou stay (my Daughter) how long wilt thou stand still amazed? All thy distress proceedeth only of that extreme self love which possesseth thy heart, and of the small confidence which thou hast in me. Forsake therefore thyself, and believe me, dost thou think that I can deceive thee? why dost thou not commit thyself to me? Why dost thou not trust in my goodness? What art thou able to profit thyself, or what canst thou do to thyself? What art thou without me? art thou in any danger? if committing thyself to in●e, thou renouncest thine own will? See to whom thou committest thyself? To me verily, without whom thou shouldest have no being at all, or be any ways able to stand, much less than to be safe and well. Wilt thou then commit thyself unto me, with whom thou canst never be ill? Wilt thou then commit thyself unto me, who cannot reject thee, who cannot forsake thee, who cannot deceive thee, who cannot but love thee? Throw thyself into my arms I pray thee, and rely thyself wholly upon me, with confidence, and without delay I will receive thee, I will preserve thee. without me thou art, as though thou wert not at all, therefore if thou lovest thyself, reject thyself and embrace me, that I may also embrace thee, and unite thee so close unto me, as no man shall be able to hurt or touch thee, but that he must first of necessity, hurt and touch me. Wherefore leave thyself with a glad and willing mind, that thou mayest neither seek, wish or choose this or that, of any respect, love or inclination which thou carriest to thyself, but let all things be indifferent to thee, only thou shouldest for my sake, esteem that dearest, and desire that most, which thou knowest is most acceptable unto me. For thou oughtest to meditate of that prayer always in thy heart, which I offered unto my Father in the Garden, when I was going to my passion, saying.  
O Lord thy will be done: Likewise: not mine, but thy will be done. And this also. Teach me to do thy will, because thou art my God. Or else this: Let it be done unto me according to thy good pleasure.  
But wilt thou know how much thou haste forsaken thyself, or how much thou hast mortified thine own will? see, when loss of any thing, when reproaches, when injuries do happen unto thee, whether thou be'st troubled with them, and whether thou be'st more troubled when they happen to thee, then when they happen to other men. By this thou shalt find the love which thou bearest to creatures: yea, thou shalt perceive the affection which thou carriest to thyself. For thou dost therefore love temporal goods, thou dost therefore love honour, thou dost therefore love quiet, and thou dost therefore love such miserable, and transitory things, because thou lovest thyself. For thou wishest to enjoy these things, whereas if thou didst love me, thou shouldest rather banish all these things quite from thy heart for my sake, and take all adversity as willingly as thou wouldst possess happiness; to be short, thou shouldest not be more, but rather much less troubled when adversity happeneth to thyself, then when it happeneth to others. For thou shouldest never be grieved with any accident in this world, but only when thou showedst thyself unreverent or contemptuous towards me.  
Therefore, he that will forsake himself (my Daughter) his only labour, exercise, and the whole scope of his desire, must tend not partly, but altogether to mortify his own appetite, to renounce his own will, to be transformed into a new shape, and to be in all sorts free, & delivered from any impediment whatsoever, which lieth in the way, and maketh a division betwxit him and me. The least impediments are cogitations & forms of creatures which men frame in their mind; the greatest is a man's own will, which the stronger it is, and the more large place that it occupieth and possesseth in a man: the less a● I present there, and so consequently the less do I possess in his soul. As long therefore as thou findest an inclination or natural desire, to one thing more than another, thou art not yet perfectly mortified, but thou haste somewhat remaining in thee, which thou must mortify and extinguish.  
What motion soever thou feelest in thyself, that proceedeth not from me, what thing soever goeth about to busy, altar, or possess thy mind, what likeness soever of any thing, doth labour to imprint itself within thy heart, whatsoever seeketh to draw thy liking to it, or to grieve or overwhelm thee: Endeavour thou with a recollected mind, close shut within itself, and lifted up to me, lightly to pass over and carelessly to despise all hope and fear, gain and loss, quiet and labour, joy and grief, mirth and sadness, and all such things as may seek to possess thy heart with all affection that thou mayest carry towards them. For if thou fix thy mind upon me, thou shalt easily tread all these things under thy feet. But if thou lovest thyself, if thou haste not wholly renounced thine own self, thou shalt always feel by following of thine own appetite, joy and grief, anger and fear, care and infinite other passions. Wherefore thou canst never be quiet, except thou haste clean mortified thyself and forgotten thine own self wholly. Thou must quite abandon thyself, that thou mayest live in me only, & bend thyself to be wise in me only, & be sensible to feel nothing but me only. Thou shalt want nothing if thou be content in this sort to want thyself. Thou shalt want nothing as long as thou art with me, I will have care of thee, I will protect thee, thou canst lose nothing in losing of thyself after this sort, for thou shalt find in me, that which is a hundred times better, than the things which thou hast lost for my sake. Cast therefore all thy care, all thy trouble, all thy fear, and even thyself also upon me and commit thyself to me. Hope and trust in me, thy hope cannot deceive thee, neither can it possibly be to great, if thou lead est a good & penitent life: whatsoever thou complainest of to a man that is thy friend, reveal the same unto me. I will take care of thee, I will maintain thee, I will defend thee. Wherefore see that thou regard me only, being quite banished from thyself within thee: that thou mayest mortify and extinguish thyself, that is by rooting out thy desires, thyself love, thy sensual appetites, and by renouncing all those delights of thine, which thou didst desire before, and for which unlawful desires I was not thy GOD, nor thou my servant. (O my Daughter) thou oughtest to labour with all thy force, that thou mayest attain to this obedience, this forsaking of thine own will for my sake, & thou oughtest to resign thyself so wholly unto me, & so far to subject thyself to my will, as thou shouldest have no other will at all in thyself, but only that which is my will and pleasure.   

Of the considerations of God's providence.  
AS long as there remaineth any choice, election, or inclination in thee, that moveth thee to take more pleasure, to be better contented, and to receive greater consolation by one thing then by an other: there resisteth some thing of thine own in thee, & thou haste not yet fully renounced thyself. For thou oughtest to take all things indifferently, and equally, without either more joy, or more grief, at one time then an other and only to depend and rely upon my providence. For this course would procure thee greatest liberty, the greatest peace, and the greatest quietness to thy soul. Stand not therefore upon thyself, believe not thine own wit or thine own force, trust not in thine own ability, promise thyself nothing upon thine own warrant, build nothing upon thine own imagination, and do nothing of thine own head, neither have confidence in thine own profiting, or in thine own will, although it be indeed good: but forsaking in all sorts thine own self: go out of thyself, and renouncing quite all the property which thou hast in thyself, rest and repose thyself in me only, trust in my goodness, rely upon my grace, and upon my providence, be ready at all times without any choice, without any difference & without any murmuring in thy heart, to receive for the fulfilling of my pleasure, adversity, as willingly as prosperity, both temporally, and eternally, desiring always this only thing, that thou mayest ever be in all respects according to my will.  
And therefore regard not how much or how little thou profitest, how near or how far thou art from me, how great or how small gifts thou haste of me, nor whether thou shalt be in Purgatory or no, how long or when thou shalt suffer those pains, but refer thyself wholly to my providence, and desire nothing, but that thou mayest ever be found best contented with that which agreeth most with my pleasure, and wish not for any greater good, neither think that greater can possibly happen unto thee, then that my first, last, and most laudable will be fulfilled in thee. Wherefore seek to please me in all such sort as is most agreeable to my will, let my will be both thy perfection, and the measure of thy perfection▪ Trouble not thy heart with any question or imagination of future things, take no care for those things that be uncertain, and may happen, but leave all these things to me which governeth all, for it may so fall out, as that evil which is expected or feared, may not happen: of if it do happen, when it is present, sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. For howsoever, & whatsoever doth by my permission chance unto thee, my providence ought to please thee above all things, and thou oughtest to praise me for it, and to hold this as an undoubted truth, that, that is ever best for thee, which doth so happen unto thee, and that it was foreseen, & appointed by my gracious hand, to fall upon thee for thy commodity: as thou dost with a full confidence wholly depend upon my goodness. To conceive well of me, to trust firmly in me, to commit themselves altogether unto me, these things I say, be as it were trumpets, whereby men do sound out my goodness. And therefore when I find these things in any man, they please me so much, as I can never forsake him, nor suffer any evil or dangerous thing to happen unto him, which hath thus settled his hope in me. The greater hope and trust therefore that thou hast in me, the more fully & perfectly thou shalt obtain thy desire. And whatsoever shall happen unto thee, if thou believest that I am so good and gracious as I will turn all thy adversities, and all things that persecute thee, or are thine enemies to thy good, that is, to thy befit, I will not deceive thee, but do it indeed. And if at the least thou canst but frame thyself to accept all things in this sort, it shall so come to pass out of all doubt as I have said. Yet my devout friends are wont to pray, that I may deliver them from Purgatory, & it is no ill petition. But when thou art come to perfection, and prayest, lying prostrate at the feet of my Majesty, thou shalt desire to satisfy my justice with that small ability which resteth in thee, and shalt offer thyself for my glory unto Purgatory, and to suffer for the fulfilling of my will, whatsoever it shall be my will to lay upon thee & the fulfilling of my will shall please thee more than the escaping of Purgatory. Therefore if thou shalt overcome by my grace, that inordinate love and zeal which thou carriest toward thyself, & for thyself, to please thy senses and thine own will, & perfectly with a full confidence wouldst commit thyself unto me, and rely upon me only: thou shouldest find that my grace would work wonders in thee. Study therefore to please me, (my Daughter) and with thinking of me, clean forget thyself, and I will so continually think of thee, and be always such an assistant unto thee, as I will never forsake thee.  
Once again I say unto thee, accept all things which happen unto thee, as sent purely, simply, and immediately from my hand, and not from any creature, admiring, praising, and accepting in all things of my providence, with joy and gladness, and with love & thanksgiving to me for my goodness. For in all those things which happen unto thee, I do intend and work thy salvation, and with a singular affection being mindful of thee, I send and appoint these things for thee, to the end that thou maiiest either do or suffer such things as may move me to have mercy upon thee. Endeavour thou therefore to draw out of things which thou seest & feelest, and out of all things which do happen unto thee, an occasion to praise and honour me, that thou mayest be worthy to understand the true cause why I permitted them, that is, with how great charity I sent them unto thee, and how thou oughtest to refer all these things unto my pleasure, to trust in me, and withal to offer thyself for my glory, even unto the fountain from whence they flowed, that is, unto my goodness. If thou wert perfectly acquainted with this exercise, whereby thou shouldest as willingly accept sorrow, as comfort at my hand, & shouldest also know how to find me in every one of my creatures: nothing could then seem so contrary and overthwart unto thee, that thou wouldst not contemn and despise: yea, nothing could be so contrary unto my nature & Majesty, but that it would put thee in mind to offer sacrifice unto me, for I am in every creature, & without me, no creature can have any being. Wherefore no creature is so near to himself, as I who am most near, and inward with themall. Wherefore thou oughtest to be so poor in spirit, as there should be nothing, that thou didst either love or mislike, seek or fly, ●eare or desire for any respect to thyself: but only for the fulfilling of my will, which at all times & in all places thou shalt come wonderfully to understand, by those things which I ordain, and permit, if thou seekest me with a pure mind and hast regard to consider of my providence.   

How we must bear adversity.  
Receive all adversity and tribulation as a messenger and token of my grace, which approacheth towards thee, and therefore whensoever thou findest thyself oppressed with any trouble or adversity, rejoice, knowing that thou haste deserved it, & impute not that which thou sufferest to any body, but to thine own sins, and withal give me thanks, that looking upon thee with the eyes of my mercy, I have vouchsafed to bestow so much favour on thee, as to visit, reprove, & correct thee here with a rod like my child, and have not utterly rejected thee, as thou didst deserve. For as long as I chasten thee, as long as I scourge thee, it is a sign that I desire thou shouldest amend. But if I withdraw my correction, leaving thee wholly to thyself, thou shalt seem then to have rest & be quiet, but thou art most unhappy, when I have withdrawn from thee that care and regard which I had of thee, & that thou art no long ●in my custody. Whatsoever therefore that thou sufferest, say unto thyself, I have deserved more grievous punishment, but although thou hadst deserved none, yet thou shouldest bear all those adversities which I lay upon thee, for the love of me, and for my sake (lest that otherwise my good pleasure should not be fulfilled) even gladly with a most patiented and loving mind towards me, considering that I suffered so many grievous torments for thy salvation. And yet although I had suffered nothing do not I deserve that thou shouldest suffer somewhat for my sake, in respect of those infinite benefits which I daily power upon thee, seeing all that thou haste, thou receivest from me only? lastly, suppose that there were none of these reasons to move thee, yet oughtest thou to remember, that thou art mine, created and made by me, and no less in my power to be framed every way accorto my will, than earth is, when it is in the hand of the Porter. And that it is therefore in my power, and a part of my justice to do with thee whatsoever I will, and it is no more lawful for thee to gainsay me, then for the earth to gainsay the Potter. For what hast thou to say against me, who am thy creator, whether I send thee comfort or sorrow? But knowing thou hast committed so much wickedness as thou hast done, why dost thou not rather desire that that contempt, wherewith thou hast despised my goodness should be punished in thee, and thy proud and arrogant mind humbled? But there is yet another reason to move thee the rather hereunto, that is, because I am one, which do love thee most faithfully, and do provide all things that are best and most wholesome for thee.  
And seeing it was my will before I created thee, that thou shouldest suffer at this hour, and at this moment those same things which thou dost suffer: thou oughtest to desire above all things, that this my most loving will, being full of all fidelity and charity towards thee, may be fulfilled in thee, so as thou shouldest endure all those things which thou dost suffer, with gladness, with a sweet kind of patience, with thanksgiving, with meekness, and with devotion in thy heart, having no choleric, nor bitter thought against those which seek to lay those adversities and vexations upon thee: but rather thou shouldest take them as my ministers in this behalf, appointed and commanded by me to this purpose, and thou shouldest consider having thine eyes fixed upon me only, with how loving, how kind, and how faithful a heart towards thee, I have sent thee these troubles for thy benefit.  
Receive therefore all affliction whatsoever falleth upon thee, as sent from my hand only without any other mean, and take it as sent by me of love towards thee for thy commodity, accept it as gladly as I do send it lovingly. And when thou sufferest no adversity, think that my good will is alienated from thee, & that I am offended with thee, because I withdraw afflictions & tribulations from thee, which is the notablest gift and ornament wherewith I am wont to honour and beautify my friends.  
Recount with thyself how great vexations, how great pesecutions, how great contradictions, how great torments, how great & wearisome toils I suffered: how great my most dear mother endured: and to be short, how great all my friends walking in my steps have stained. Remember also that no man attaineth to eternal glory, but by the Cross, and Cup of affliction and that there is no other way but this high way to the heavenly country, which way of necessity thou must pass through, if thou desirest to enjoy our company in eternal happiness. lastly consider that there is nothing so small or so little worth, which either thou dost or sufferest for my sake, but that thou shalt receive a very great and glorious reward of me for it. And yet notwithstanding I will not have thee to serve me, or to suffer these things in hope of reward, but only of mere love towards me. I know what reward I will give thee, I say I will, because I do not owe it thee in any other sort, then for that it is my will to bestow it upon thee. For all my gifts are of free grace. Think not thou therefore of any reward, be not so base minded, but think of me, with a more noble, loving, and faithful heart, and submit thyself unto me, even of mere love for mine own sake, to endure whatsoever my will is to lay upon thee. If thou knewest (my Daughter) how great fruit is reaped by tribulations, thou wouldst esteem it as a great happiness to glory in crosses & afflictions. The greater adversities therefore that do happen unto thee, and the more contrary that they are to thy desires, yea, although they repugn such desires of thine as are to please me) the more earnestly thou shouldest endeavour patiently to suffer them, & the more wholly thou shouldest resign thyself unto me. For it is done by my will and providence, that thy will sometime be hindered: yea, even when it is good, that by this mean for one virtue thou mayest obtain two, and withal mayest receive the reward of a good work for thy good will (although thou be not permitted to put it in execution) & for the adversity which did hinder thy will, thou shalt receive a crown of patience. Thou mayest add to all these, for thy farther encouragement this one reason also, that the more thy good will is tempted by adversity, and the faithfuller it is found, and the more patiented it is in bearing of crosses, and such things as resist it: the more glorious the crown is which I have laid up to reward it. Therefore because I love thee, I will have thee to be wholly and purely a faithful Spouse unto me. I will have thee to serve me with renouncing all interest in thyself, and to go, not whether thou wilt, but whether I send or lead thee. Neither must thou seek withal to serve thine own appetite, when thou labourest in these things to please me: but rather as a faithful, devout, and obedient handmaid, which hath no will to do any thing, but that which is agreeable to the will of her Mistress. Thou must seek in nothing to please thyself, but me only, with all sincerity and purity in thy intention, and that must be always most acceptable unto thee which I lay upon thee to suffer, whether it be by the hands of men, or any other mean whatsoever.  
Respect not therefore men, neither impute it to men, if thou sustainest any adversity. What blame doth the rod deserve, if the father seeking to correct his son doth use it? why then art thou angry with men, which being my instruments serve as a scourge to correct thee? Seek not therefore to resist them, or to argue against them, but have a special care that thine own impatiency do not hurt thyself, & lest thou lose that benefit by repining, which thou shouldest have gained by patiented suffering.  
Be therefore courteous and gentle towards all men, in taking patiently whatsoever shall happen. Carry a mild countenance, and use an humble behaviour, that no choler, nor exclaiming, no dejection of thy mind, nor sorrow appear in thee, nor yet that any thing be found in thee, which may make men to think, that thou endurest some affliction, or art oppressed with some trouble.  
If any man reprove or reproach thee, show him a mild and gentle countenance holding thy peace, and smile with a certain kind of bashfulness and modesty, in token of thy charity which accepteth it in good part, and which taketh all things well, without either thinking of revenge, or remembering of an injury. Beware that thou speakest not at that time above two or three words, and that with great temperance. And by this mean thou shalt show thyself so humble and meek, as every man may presume to reprove thee, and no man be afraid to displease thee, or to use any reproach towards thee. Learn in all adversity whensoever any man doth chide thee, reproach thee, or injury thee, to use silence, to bear it patiently, and to be quiet, and thou shalt assuredly find my grace, which thou canst never attain unto by any other mean, then by being quiet, and suffering patiently whatsoever I shall lay upon thee, being as willing if it stand with my pleasure, to receive adversity, as to enjoy prosperity.  
Thou hast (my Daughter & Spouse also) my life as perfect example of patience and meekness, neither did I speak it without great reason, when I said: Learn of me because I am meek and humble of heart, seeing that my life was a lively pattern of patience, humility, & meekness. For in the middle of all my pains and torments, of all the derisions & blasphemies, which mine enemies used towards me, of all their cruel threatenings, of their most wicked and despiteful countenances against me, what complaint or show of repining at this dealing of theirs proceeded from me? which of mine enemies did I curse? to which of them did I speak sharply? which of them did I answer? to which of them did I wish any harm? Nay rather, was I not sorry for them, when I did pray for them all? Follow thou therefore my example, and have patience still joined with quietness and tranquillity of thy soul, & be meek without murmuring or complaining. Fight not for thyself, defend not, neither yet excuse thou thyself, hold thou thy peace, and commit both thyself and thy cause to my protection: I will fight for thee. Cleave therefore in the mean time whole unto me, in all quietness without any perturbation, or motion in thy soul, being ready with all gladness, rather to suffer any confusion for my sake, then either inwardly in thy mind, or outwardly in thy show to use the least murmuring in the world against me. As long as thou thinkest that thou art wronged: as long as thou believest my (Daughter) that thou sufferest unjustly; or hast not deserved those things which thou sufferest: thou art neither come to true patience, nor yet to a perfect knowledge of thyself. Wherefore I would wish thee to be always ready with a joyful and devout heart to run and meet any adversity, that shall light upon thee: and offer thyself unto me, as one that is willing to suffer tribulations, to want all things that thou desirest, and both to take any travail, and to bear any misery in what sort soever it shall be my pleasure to appoint. Think that day lost wherein thou hast not received some notable cross. If thou knewest what great commodity is reaped by patience, thou wouldst do great honour, and show great thankfulness to those that afflict thee. Consider how I, as an innocent Lamb, did carry a most meek and quiet mind, void of all bitterness towards those which did spette upon me, scourge me, and crucify me, and how I excused them, and prayed for them,  
In like sort must thou do, and not account any thing injury that is done unto thee, nor yet believe that injuries can be offered thee, but regard me only, respect me wholly, and thou shalt come to learn that I, and no other have done all these things merely of love towards thee. By doing thus (my Daughter) there is nothing in any creature which will not be a mean and occasion, for thee to obtain my grace more abundantly, because thou shalt find me in every one of them, so that thou dost contemplate upon the creature, not as a creature, but upon me in the creature, as thou oughtest to do. And if thou dost in this behalf as thou oughtest, thou shalt receive me, thou shalt hear me, thou shalt feel me in every one of my creatures. F●● I do speak unto thee in them all: hearken therefore unto me, & learn by every thing that happeneth unto thee, what I would have thee do, and when thou knowest my will, be ever most ready to perform it.  
If thou didst give ear unto me after this manner, the world and all things contained therein, should be a book of instructions for thee to direct thee in that course, which agreeth most with my pleasure.   

Of wanting of consolation.  
THE high way, and also that most excellent way, wherein all my perfect friends have walked, & wherein thou must also walk: is, to want all kind of consolation, when thou art compassed in on every side with adversity and distress, and to be so poor as there may be nothing left, to which thou mayst turn thyself for succour, to which thou mayst fly unto for refuge, or in which thou mayst trust: nor yet, that there be any man whom thou mayst seek counsel of, or in whom thou mayst have confidence but in me only, that by this mean thou mayst have no other thing to remain for thee to do, but only that all thy care & cogitations may tend to devise how thou mayest profit and set forth my glory, in sustaining of these afflictions both inwardly in thy mind, by having a desire to offer thyself unto them, and outwardly in thy behaviour by serving of all creatures, & subjecting thyself unto them all, in such sort as if it were lawful for them without committing any offence, or doing thee any injury to afflict thee, and tread thee under their feet: yea, as if they did in this no more than I charged and commanded them. In doing thus, thou shouldest be free, from all complaining, from all disputing, from all grudging, and from all malice against thy neighbour. And by this account thou shouldest love those best which did oppress thee most. Because they did open the way unto thee, whereby thou mayest come to renounce thyself, and gave thee an opportunity both to please me, and show thyself thankful towards me.  
Moreover thou shouldest rejoice, that they offered thee a good occasion to exercise virtue, and to try thy love towards me, and thou wouldst desire this above all things, if thou didst indeed perfectly love me.  
There is yet an other perfection greater than this, and in a higher degree, that is, to be destitute both of all earthly and heavenly consolation, being loaden with temptations, distresses, vexations, doubts, fears, perplexities, and adversities, & to be as it were utterly rejected from me and quite forgotten by me, and yet notwithstanding all this, not to fly from me, and go to my creatures, not to departed from me, and seek worldly help, nor yet to desire, that consolations and revelations should be imparted unto them. But still to trust in me, to expect patiently my pleasure, to cleave unto me with a pure faith, and perfect charity, and to be ready to continue in this state, as long as it shall be my will to permit it. Nay which is more, to refer themselves wholly unto me, & to offer themselves to suffer these, & any thing whatsoever, for the fulfilling of my and setting forth of my glory, and to praise me in all these distresses, in such sort as they are able, although it be but with a dry and barren heart.   

Of inward peace and meekness of heart.  
THou hast understood sufficiently (my Spouse) how thou oughtest to be patiented, and in patience meek, that is, how thou oughtest to bear all things with so indifferent, peaceable and quiet a mind (for meekness is no other thing, then perfect tranquillity in true patience) as nothing should be able to make thee sad, or to vex or trouble thee, whatsoever did happen unto thee, that proceeded not from me in my wrath and displeasure, whether it were for a time or for eternity, excepting this only, which thou must always carry for a firm resolution, that thou wilt never be excluded from my grace and charity, nor yet in thine own will be withdrawn or divided from me: For this thou must not neglect, but take care of above all things that thou mayest always be united unto me in perfect charity: Thou must also remember, in what place soever thou be'st, what pain or consolation soever thou feelest (if the same be for the setting forth of my glory, and by my special pleasure) that thou rejoice in it, because by it thou obaiest my will being ready in every sort to be according as it shall best agree with my will, either comforted or afflicted. And when thou art settled in this resolution no loss of any external thing that happeneth unto thee, in this world can grieve thee: For nothing can chance that is contrary to thy liking, as long as my will is always thy will, and that thou hast no other will in thee, but that which is my pleasure: Therefore then (as I said) let my will be always fulfilled in all things. And it should be the greatest joy that thou couldst have, when my will is performed in thee. For thou art then fully settled in thine inward man, in all peace & tranquillity, although thou findest in thine own outward man, distress and desolation, which notwithstanding thou dost patiently take without any perturbation, because thy will is in all things agreeable to mine. Be quiet in this manner (my Daughter) providing so, as all fury, and all kind of repining be altogether extinguished in thee, and that thine irascible power or faculty be even so fully mortified in thee, as it be unmovable, and not to be stirred by any accident. Let thy concupiscible power also be so established in virtue, as it may be wholly lifted up unto me, And let thy reasonable power taking part of their joys, accord with them, so as thy conscience enjoying peace and quietness within itself, thy whole soul may be in perfect tranquillity.   

Of the love which we should bear towards our neighbour.  
LEt thy heart towards thy neighbour (my Daughter) be full of compassion, and a chaste kind of love. I call that a chaste love which defileth not the heart with carnal concupiscence, nor doth busy it with too much familiarity, nor too often keeping of company, nor doth stain it with any inordinate affection, nor doth disquiet it with thoughts that procure distraction in thy soul, nor doth trouble it with importunity of vain desires, nor doth occupy thy imagination with multitude of fancies, or impressions of divers things: but without choice of persons, or regard of sex doth embrace all sorts of men & women for my sake, with abundance of charity, and for it only without any other respect at all. Therefore being full of a devout kind of good will & pure charity, rejoice with every one in all the benefits and commodities which they receive, whether it be touching their soul or body, & even flowing with a kind of compassion, which can never cease running. Lament with every one in their necessities and tribulations, pouring out the streams of thy courtesy, affabillitie, mercy and pity to all men.  
And see that thou be'st inflamed with a ready desire and willing mind to comfort them, to serve them to secure them, and to help them, to bear the burden of their troubles, esteeming their corporal or spiritual afflictions thine own, & carrying the unspeakable affection of a most tender Mother towards all men whatsoever. Endeavour therefore to excuse every man, and to do them good by thy prayers, benefits, and all the pleasures that lieth in thy power. And upon such as thou canst bestow no other benefit, seek to mitigate their sorrow, with thy courteous behaviour, thy sweet speech, or any other means that thou art able.  
Take special heed that thou neither judgest, nor despisest any man, because it both harmeth thy soul and beside displeaseth me wonderfully. And therefore exclude by all the means thou mayest suspicions, and ill conceits of other men, from thee: Excuse also all those which fall & offend. When thou seest one to sin, say within thyself: that he was permitted to fall for his greater amendment, that he had a good intention, and was deceived either by ignorance or error, that his infirmity being too strongly assaulted with tentation, was enforced to yield. Say and speak it unfeignedly from thy heart, that thou hadst fallen much more heinously than he did if this tentation had assaulted thee. Thou oughtest not with one and the self same, but with a divers eye to look upon thine own and thy neighbour's acts. For thou shouldest judge of thine own with a severe eye, aggravating thine imperfections, and not esteeming or seeking to lessen thy virtues. And on the contrary part, thou shouldest make reckoning of thy neighbours imperfections as very small and of this virtues as very great.  
Wherefore take care always neither to speak nor hear ill of others. Never reprove thy neighbour in anger though he deserve to be blamed. For what doth it profit thee if thou curest him, and woundest thyself? Or what doth the medicine avail, if by it thou goest about to heal one wound, and in the mean time makest ten others? expect thou a time wherein thou mayest have fit opportunity to reprove him, and then reprove him with the spirit of lenity & sweetness, rather by entreating him, and exhorting him, then by handling him sharply or roughly, making thy hearty prayers unto me, with sorrowful groans, that this reproving of thine may be effectual and work his salvation. Take heed that thou be'st not the cause of breeding dissension, discord, or hatred amongst men, but let all thy speech in all places tend to peace, being mindful that I said: Blessed are the peace makers, for they shall be called the children of God.  
If any man offend thee, if any man persecute thee with malice, requite his wrongs with benefits, his hard & sour countenance, with a sweet and meek behaviour, his sharp and reproachful words, with mild & gentle answers, and by this mean thou shalt more easily bring him to the knowledge of his own fault.  
Let all the labours, miseries, poverty, contempt and sorrows, which thou seest men endure, put thee in mind of those labours, afflictions, contempts, pains and many other sharp and grievous miseries, which I suffered for thy sake, that thou mayest by this mean behold me, find me, perceive me, perfectly love me, daily suffer with me, and continually be transformed into me, by every thing which thou seest in every man.   

Of the purity of the heart.  
Endeavour to have such purity in thy heart, as being withdrawn from all earthly cogitations, thou mayest not addict thyself to any delight, nay that thou mayest seek no delight, or take delight in any thing, or content thyself with the desire of any delight whatsoever: cut off also not only unlawful thoughts, but all such as be idle, and unprofitable, suffering none of them wittingly to enter into thee. Let thy firm resolution be to think nothing but either of me, or for my sake. Receive not into thy heart as near as thou canst, the similitude and forms of earthly things, but thrust out all such impressions and fancies, as soon as ever they begin to appear. Cast all thy cares and troubles upon me, be not disquieted with any thing whatsoever shall happen. Keep ever a watchful guard over thy heart, that no inordinate affection to man, woman, or any other creature, no sensual desire, no vicious passion, no concupiscence, no ill inclination, or wicked intention may rest in thee.  
Never give thy consent that any separation, although it be never so little, remain between me and thee, and see that thou dost in nothing either seek or respect thyself, but me only, purely, simply, and wholly.  
Lift up thy heart in every place unto me, and keep it still raised from all earthly cogitations, that whatsoever thou haste to speak, to deal in, or to think of, thou do first deal with me in it by prayer, and by the internal discourse of thy spirit. Let every action and external business, give thee matter and occasion to pray, yea, let the very occupation and business of thy heart be no other thing but a continual and daily prayer. See nothing though it be never so far from the nature of prayer, so deformed or so contrary to all goodness, but draw thou presently out of it, some occasion to pray unto me, and to praise my name. Let all things be means for thee to lift up thy heart, and to raise thy affection unto me.  
What fair thing soever thou seest, what pleasant or delightful thing soever thou feelest, acknowledge it to proceed from me, and let it put thee in mind of my beauty and glory, that I only may be thy whole delight and consolation. Let all things edify thee, and whatsoever happeneth unto thee, take opportunity by it, to meditate upon some thing that may be profitable for the soul.   

How we ought to refer all the good things we receive to the goodness of God.  
CHallenge nothing to thyself by any of my works, or by the mean of those gifts which I bestow upon thee. Thou oughtest to acknowledge my gifts to my honour, and to wonder at my liberality and charity bestowed upon thee, without any desert of thine own, and my most gracious bounty. And withal thou must ever have presented before thine eyes thine own baseness, and how thou art of thyself merely nothing, that by this consideration thou mayest not ascribe or challenge any thing to thyself out of those gifts which I bestowed upon thee, neither yet be rejoiced or delighted with any thing that thou receivest from me, or for that I have wrought any good thing in thee. Thou oughtest not I say for any of these to rejoice in thyself, or be glad for thine own sake, that is, because thou haste attained to some goodness, for that should be a rejoicing altogether in thyself, But thou shouldest rejoice in me, and for my gracious bounty that I have been so good, so liberal, so gentle, and so merciful to a most unworthy & unthankful creature. Which goodness of mine, the viler that thou art, doth the more manifestly appear in thee.  
Rejoice therefore in my gifts, not attributing any praise thereby to thyself, but ascribing thy whole glory unto me. And behave thyself so discretely in receiving any of my gifts (excepting thankfulness, and humility, which must ever increase in thee) as if nothing had been given thee, nothing had been wrought in thee, and that thou didst feel no good at all, directing thine eyes to thine own unworthiness, which art of thyself merely nothing, & to thine own disability. which art able to do nothing, and to thine own imperfection, which cannot attain to the smallest goodness without any grace, that by this means thou mayst not be extolled in thine own conceit, or rejoice in thine own ability, or flatter thyself with thine own power, but all unto me only.  
If thou feelest therefore any sweet inspiration, or any lightning of my grace within thee, or that by my mercy, thou be'st enabled to do an other man a benefit, or good turn, thou mayest rejoice in the good, which I did by thee as my instrument, but in no sort to rejoice in thyself, that is, not to flatter or please thine own appetite (for in it lieth hidden self love) nor to think that it was done by thine own power, but rather turn away thy heart, from that which was done, and from thyself also, that thou mayest never join together these two cogitations, which is thyself, and my benefit, except it be (as I said) when thou comparest my infinite goodness with thy unspeakable baseness.  
Suffer it to pass over for that time, as though it had not been done at all, and as though thou understood no such matter: and fix all thy cogitations in the mean season upon me, and not upon the gift which thou haste received from me. Look never therefore into the gift itself, neither settle thy mind in that consideration, nor rejoice in it, nor yet be contented to rest there, neither stay, if thou feelest any motion in examining and searching curiously, within thyself, what thou feelest, or what thou dost, or whether the motion proceed from me, or from some other cause, (for this doth ever make a division between thee & me, and doth stay thee longer from coming unto me) but rather pass quickly through all these cogitations, & remove them clean from thee, and endeavour to unite thyself more nearly and firmly unto me. Choose rather not to know the things which after this sort do busy the mind, then with a curious seach to hinder my grace, and to procure thereby danger to thyself, either of being puffed up with pride, or of pleasing thyself, or of rejoicing by the provocation of self love in thine own ability, or for thine own glory. But refer these as all other things unto me, only hold this with a resolute and assured mind, for an infallible principle, that if I do grant thee any good gift, it is given merely without desert, to an unthankful and unworthy creature.  
This kind of humility doth wonderfully please me, that thou shouldest be afraid and troubled in respect of thine own baseness, unworthiness and unthankfulness, and be timorous with the consideration of these things, and feel a shamefastness and disquiet thereby, and rather think that thou feelest no good thing at all, or that the motion proceedeth not from me, than to stay upon the consideration thereof, and rejoice therein. Remember also that I forbade my Apostles to rejoice in those miracles which they wrought, or to take any glory because unclean spirits did submit themselves unto them, and obeyed them, although they were not ignorant, but did assuredly known that this gift proceeded from me.  
In like sort therefore (my Daughter) glory not thou in thyself, neither rejoice without me, for any consolation or gift which thou receivest, that is, rejoice no otherwise in it then may tend to the magnifying of my name, neither stay in consideration of the thing itself (for therein doth ever some self-love lie lurking, which doth easily beguile those that be not heedful) but rejoice in me only, that is, rejoice, because I have showed my glory, and fulfilled my will in thee. Seek no glory to thyself by my gifts, neither cover to usurp or challenge to thyself any praise thereby, neither yet ascribe any thing to thine own ability.  
Ascribe nothing at all I say to thyself, or thine own power, neither suffer any other man to attribute any thing to thine own worthiness, nor rejoice in it, as if it were thine own act, but refer all unto me, and keep thyself from all manner of propriety in thyself, from attributing any thing to thine own worthiness, from desiring any thing for thine own pleasure, or rejoicing in any thing for thine own delight. Live without following thine own counsel, thine own judgement, thine own opinion.  
If thou desirest (my Daughter) to be my spouse, keep thy heart chaste & pure, free and quite alienated from any other love but mine only, & from being possessed by any of my creatures, that it may be left whole for me to dwell in, which am thy ceator. As often as thou findest any sensual or natural love in thy mind to man, woman, or any other creature whatsoever: so often remember with sorrowful groans to lift up thy soul unto me, earnestly desiring my grace, and my favour only, which is a most safe refuge, a most happy haven for thee, and that not for a time, but endless and eternal.  
Whatsoever therefore doth busy thy senses with any cogitations towards any of my creatures, is, neither pure, nor without danger in thy soul. Whensoever all thy natural appetite receiveth any recreation, comfort or delight, (if thou seekest to attain to a perfect purity) thou must of necessity renounce that pleasure whether it be in words or any other earthly thing. Thou must pass over all things with a free mind, in no sort subject or in bondage unto them, nor adhering to any but me only. Take this also with thee for a certain rule, that nothing maketh a man so free from the love of himself or any other creature and so far from being entangled with any earthly cogitation, as to despise himself and all creatures, and to account of me in his heart, as his only precious jewel, esteeming all other things (as they are indeed) as filthy dung.  
Make a diligent search in all thy actions, studies, and desires, what moveth thee unto them, & whether thou speakest or holdest thy peace, whether thou dost somewhat, or be'st at rest, look narrowly into the innermost corners of thy soul, that is into the very marrow of thy cogitations and intentions, and thou shalt often find that the original root & seed whereof this groweth, and from whence this doth spring, which thou thinkest divine, is merely human, impure, and a lewd seeking to please thine own appetite.  
Take heed therefore that no vicious thought enter into thee, nor any inordinate lust remain in thee. Oh if thou hadst thy heart clearly delivered from the love of every creature. Oh if being wholly converted unto me, thou didst desire me only, I would with as great a desire run to meet thee, and enter of mine own accord with as great affection into thy heart, as if I could not live without thee, or that without being with thee I could not enjoy perfect happiness & contentation.  
This course I know will seem grievous unto thee at the beginning, and it cannot be without some trouble thus straightly to note and observe in all things what thou seekest, what thoughts possess thy heart, and whensoever thou findest any cogitation that is not of me, or for my sake, presently to root it out of thy mind. This I say, will procure thee great labour, and affliction of thy spirit. For thou shalt find both thyself, and thine own appetite lie lurking in many things wherein thou must of necessity forsake both, and presently mortify any desire that is unlawful, and inordinate in thee. For if thou seekest to overcome thine own nature, it followeth of necessity that thou must do it by violence and forcible means. And therefore thou shalt find as many crosses, as thou hast wicked or impure inclinations, which must be mortified in thee. But by this mean (my Daughter) thou shalt first come to know thyself, for by seeing thine own disabillitie and weakness in that thou canst not overcome thyself, thou shalt be humbled.  
And whereas before thou thoughtest thyself to be somewhat, thou shalt then plainly find that thou art nothing: And if thou persistest in this course with continual and incessant labour, that which at the first was painful, thou shalt quickly find to be very easy. For this diligent and daily looking into thyself, and examining of all thy thoughts, doth work many things in thee, very profitable for thy salvation. It will show thee thine infirmity, and imperfections, it will breed in thee sorrow, for those sins which thou findest in thyself, and an earnest desire to be delivered of them. It will also make thee very careful to beware of many offences, & to avoid many dangers, into which otherwise thou wouldst have fallen. To conclude, the labour & distress which thou sustainest, and the toil which thou takest to be clearly rid of these imperfectious, and the tears which thou shedst (because thou canst not overcome thyself, & clean be without those things which thou wouldst altogether forsake (shall be a baptism unto thee for the purging of thy soul, and for the expiation of thine offences. Faint not therefore in thy courage, for thou shalt overcome all things by settling thy whole trust in my mercy. Have confidence in me, & thou shalt find that I will make these crosses light for thee, & help thee myself to bear part of the burden.   

How divine inspiratitions ought to be observed, and the grace of God not neglected.  
Have care (my Daughter) to abound always with virtuous customs, and to spend thy time in good exercises, that thou mayest use the same as a mean to lift up thy heart unto me when, thou feelest no other great or sensible motions of my grace within thee. But thou shouldest never addict thyself so much to thy exercises, as to prefer thine own conceits before my inspirations. For whensover thou haste learned to know my will (whether it be by the manifestation of the will of thy superior, or by my providence, by which of doubtful events, I do sometime fet down a certain judgement) follow that strait way, and forsake thine own appetite. Whensoever also thou findest a sensible and plain motion of me within thee, presently leave thyself and obey me, by following of mine inspirations. For I hold not myself satisfied though thou dost serve me, seek me, and bend thyself to please me; but I will have thee to serve me in such sort, as my will is to be served, that is, I will have thee clean to forsake thine own will, yea, although it be in a thing which is virtuous and commendable, to follow my will in an other thing, which is not half so good, but seemeth to be vile and of no value. For the same thing in respect of my will, that is, because it is my pleasure, my ordinance, & my appointment to have it so, is not only not vile, & of no valu, but very good, yea and much better also then the other. Thou must therefore often omit and alter thine exercises in this sort, not of negligence, not of sloth, not of any inconstancy of thy heart, but of a pure, and mere renouncing of thyself, that thou mayest not in any place, or in any thing stand upon thyself, but rely wholly upon me, with a firm and full confidence in me. Oh if thou knewest what great danger, and what great loss of spiritual profit is incurred by not receiving of mine inspirations when I send them, & how damnable it is to resist my divine motions, thy heart would even consume for grief, and very fear of my justice. Wherefore (my Daughter) stand always in fear of thine own actions, and suspect thyself ever of unthankfulness towards me. Be ever in doubt that it may so hap unto thee for thy deserts as it hath happened to many other, that thou mayest for thy pride & ingratitude be justly forsaken of me, & deservedly fall from my grace.  
Be humble therefore always having no confidence in thyself but in me. Pray continually for my grace, & observe my inspirations with great heed, that thou mayest know what I require of thee, and it is not only sufficient for thee to know my will, but to do it whensoever thou shalt come to know it, & despising all other things whatsoever, to prefer it before any delight or contentation of thine own. And whereas I warned thee, that thou shouldest be afraid for losing of my grace, and for being forsaken of me by thine own negligence and ingratitude; thou must have a special care that this fear proceed not of desperation or of a weak faith, but of humility, which is ever a fear, full of hope and confidence in me.  
If thou be'st not able to imitate the exercises of other men, be not therefore discouraged, or dejected in thine own mind. For thou shouldest not so much respect other men's exercises, as their virtues, seeing that I do distribute my gifts to every man according to his constitution by nature, and that particular vocation whereunto I call him, and agreeable to that scope, and certain end whereunto I appoint him. I furnish him also with divers exercises, fit for him, which are unfit for many other, and not meet for every body, because the nature or vocation of particular men. (to the which my grace for the most part, is accommodated, and made agreeable) is different, and many times very contrary. If therefore thou canst not follow other men's exercises of virtue, yet thou mayest imitate their virtues, for they be not different, but one and the same in all. As for example, thou mayest be humble, thou mayest be merciful, thou mayest be patiented, and thou mayest resemble other men, in the very same virtues, though thou canst not imitate them in the very same exercises. For there is but one way to please me, which hath been to all my holy servants ever one uniform and the same. This is the way of charity which hath many and sundry exercise, of my holy servants, directed to one end, and which thou must walk, by whatsoever means I shall appoint unto thee. If thou walkest in this way of charity, that is, if thou follow me, by receiving of all things as from me, by committing of allthinges unto me, by humbling thyself under my mighty hand, by yielding thyself unto me, by respecting me only, and seeking my glory in all things, that either thou dost or speakest; I will not suffer thee to go astray, though thou walkest in never so great darkness or ignorance, though thou be'st vexed with never so great temptation or distress, and though thou thinkest thyself never so quite forsaken or rejected by me. Have thou therefore consideration always of thy vocation or calling, and use exercises agreeable to the same, being ever ready to leave them, change them, discontinue them, and resume them, according as thou shalt be directed by my inspirations, providence, and good pleasure. For thou shouldest not measure thy perfection by this or that man's account, nor by thine own estimation: but thou oughtest to measure it by my good pleasure, resigning thyself wholly thereunto, that thou mayest not seek to attain to this or that man's affection, or to such as thou desirest thyself, but to such as my will is to appoint thee. Let that perfection therefore which thou desirest consist, either in abundance, or scarcity, according to my will and good pleasure.  
Wish and pray that thou mayest be such a one in my sight, as my special will is to have thee. Observe diligently, and learn both to know and follow the inspiration of my grace. If thou neither seekest to please thy natural inclinations, nor in thy spiritual exercises, but respect me only with a pure intention, thou shalt quickfinde the way wherein I would have thee to walk, and the course which my desire is thou shouldest always hold.   

How we must employ the gifts of God which we receive to the benefit of others.  
I Will not have thee (my daughter) to neglect those graces, and gifts which I bestow upon thee. But take heed also that thou dost not seek thine own commendations in these graces, of mine, that thou dost not by them ascribe any thing to thine own worthiness, that thou be'st no puffed up with pride, that thou dost not boast of them, glory in them, or desire to please thine own self by them, but employ them all wholly to my glory: remembering ever specially above all things, that of thyself thou art nothing, haste nothing, and art able to do nothing. And that whatsoever thou haste, thou haste received from me only. And that I love not to have my gifts return unto me fruitless, and without doing of any good, but with gain and usury, as I forewarned all men in the parable of tallences which I spoke of in the Gospel. For as thine eye in thy body is not an eye only for itself, nor is placed there only for the use and benefit of itself but to the end that it may help all the rest of the members to see: so what talents or gifts soever I have bestowed upon thee, I have not given them for thine own self only, that thou shouldest reap the whole fruit and benefit of them, to thine own use, but I have placed these gifts or good things in thee, for the benefit of other members of my mystical body, that by them thou mayest serve others, help others, and both gain and draw thy neighbours to the knowledge of my will, and the doing of my commandements. For peradventure I gave not them those things which I gave thee, because in thee I provided, both for them and thyself also, as on the contrary part, I have to the same end withholden many graces from thee, which I bestowed upon them. For in these things which I bestowed upon others, I had respect upon others, I had respect unto thee, & gave them not for themselves only, but for thee in them, because I bestowed those graces upon them for thy benefit. I require therefore at thy hands, that thou employest my gifts to other men's commodity, & he pest other men most willingly by them as much as lieth in thy power. If thou canst do somewhat, which they cannot, that so by this mean one kind of charity remaining in you all, may make of many of you one body: and whatsoever this body hath in one member, let him employ it to the benefit of the rest. For every member ought to make one another partaker of the gifts which every one of them receiveth by reason of the union of the body and communion of charity which is amongst them.  
Let this consideration of my will make thee (my Daughter) cheerful to serve thy neighbours, glad to bear their burdens, meek to suffer with them, gentle to comfort them, ready to secure them, and willing to rejoice with them, that no envy at all, no contention, no emulation, no seeking to please thine own appetite, be found in thee, nor yet that any of these things may appear in thy fellows, but that there may remain between you perfect charity, and the communicating of my gifts one with another, as between the members of one body: For thou hast nothing that is thine own. For what hast thou that thou hast not received? Wherefore thou hast nothing, as I said, that is not mine, thou hast nothing that is given to thyself alone, that is, thou hast nothing that is given thee for thyself only, but all things whatsoever thou hast received, are committed to thy custody to be altogether employed for the benefit of the whole body of my Church, & look unto it, for I will require an account at thy hands, how thou hast bestowed the same. Take heed therefore that thou be never carried away with so profound a contemplation, or think thyself so well & so perfectly contented in being with me, but that (if neither the corporal, or spiritual necessity of thy neighbour do call thee away from it) thou be ready to forsake thine own consolation, the commodity of thine own devotion, yea, and the sweet exercise or matter wherewith the consolation itself is nourished, & neglecting wholly to please thyself, be willing to run in haste to help thy neighbour for my sake. For this is perfect charity, not to seek thine own, but thy neighbour's benefit. And this charity is more acceptable unto me, and more profitable for thyself, than all the contemplation or devotion that thou canst use of thine own. Moreover, remember always that in all thy actions, in all thy affections, & in all those things which either thou dost or makest choice of, or sufferest or seekest to avoid, I may be thy beginning, thy middle, and thy end, that whatsoever thou dost, or leavest undone, may be for my sake, and that in the following of this course, thou seekest no other thing, but only my glory, and the fulfilling of my pleasure. For the deed is not so acceptable to me, in respect of itself, when thou dost secure, or takest compassion upon thy neighbour: but thou art in doing hereof most acceptable in my sight, because thou doest for my sake, leave thyself, that is, because thou forsakest thine own commodity, and seekest to relieve thy neighbour's necessity. For if thou dost any thing for any other respect, whether it be for favour, friendship, or any special bond of kindred or familiarity, or for any commodity, or recompense which thou lookest to receive. I accept not of it, but reject it, although it be never so great and worthy an act. For I accept of no sacrifice that is offered unto me, if it be not offered for my sake, only and wholly.   

Of poverty in spirit.  
DO with all zeal and earnestness, as many good works as thou art able, hungering, and thirsting after justice. And let no man seem unto thee more weak and imperfect, more void of all virtues, and more unworthy of my grace then thyself. Fix thine eyes always upon thine own defects, bewailing & lamenting that thou hast so many imperfections, and wantest so many virtues. But remember withal that it is not thy duty, to think, and look into other men's manners, what virtues they have, what ways they walk, and how they behave themselves towards me.  
I know what I have given every body, I know also what account is fit for me to require at every body's hands. Imagine thyself in thine own eyes the basest, vilest, & wickedest of all men, and as it were merely nothing. Be ashamed in my presence, if thou hearest any man praise thee, or show a good conceit of thee, and be sorry for it, because by it they do me injury, in that they think well of thee which art so vile a soul, so unclean, so unthankful, & so full of offences against me. Think thyself so vile, as that every man may lawfully and with just cau●e contemn and despise thee, and that thou mayest not think thyself injured, or else wronged at any time whensoever any seek to lay reproaches or afflictions upon thee. For thou oughtest to receive commendations or reproaches with an equal contentment in thy mind, and without any difference, but only in accounting thyself altogether unworthy of commendation, and most worthy of reproach. For as long as thou thinkest thyself to be wronged, as long as thou complainest, and dost believe that thou haste received any injury, thou art not clearly purged of self love. For thou shouldest not in truth, take any thing for an injury, but that wrong which is done unto me. Submit thyself therefore so wholly to my will and pleasure, as thou mayest be as well content with evil as with good, with grief as with joy, which by any external accident doth happen unto thee in this world, remaining always poor internally in thy spirit, hungering and thirsting (as I said) after justice, and having a heart free from all earthly cogitations, and ready withal zeal and earnestness ever to do those things which agree best with my good pleasure.   

Of the love of God.  
O (My Daughter) even as the Hart desireth to come unto the Fountains of water, so let thy soul have a desire to come unto me, & thy mind be inflamed with the love and desire of me. He that is oppressed with a vehement thirst, can think of nothing but of drink only, for whatsoever he doth, his burning thirst never forsaketh him, but still provokes him with earnest cogitations and continual desires to have some drink. In like sort if thou didst love me perfectly, if thou didst long for me vehemently, thou couldst think of nothing else, but how thou mightest come unto me, how thou mightest be united unto me, there would always remain in thee such a hunger & thirst after justice, that thou wouldst never be satisfied or contented with that which thou haste done to mine honour, how great soever it were, but ever grieved and perplexed in thy mind, with thinking that the same which thou haste done already for my honour was nothing at all. Thou wouldst always endeavour thyself to do better, thou wouldst always thirst to be more perfect, thy heart would ever burn with desire to be more nearly united unto me, to honour me more, & more fully to fulfil my will & good pleasure. They which are inflamed with an exceeding & an unmeasurable love towards any man or woman, do loath meat, drink, and all other things, which seem either for delights to please them, or for necessary use to sustain their body, and pine away, & grow sickly, if they can not enjoy their desire, or if they find and perceive that they are not loved again. For they languish with mere love, & that maketh them, that they can neither take any joy, nor receive any comfort, nor find any rest, except they may obtain that which they love. (O my Daughter) thou oughtest to love me in this sort, that thou mightest find in me only joy and consolation, and without me in all places nothing but sorrow and affliction. If thou didst rightly love me as thou shouldest do, thou couldst not be in rest until thou didst possess me. For there would a continual thirst, hunger & desire burn within thy soul, not permitting thee to enjoy any quiet at all.  
O that thou didst languish with such a kind of love towards me, or that hating all other things thou didst desire me only. O that thou didst present thy heart unto me quite weaned, and clearly delivered from all other love whatsoever, that I may still draw it after me, and both pierce it through and wound it to the bottom with my love. Oh how happy shouldest thou be, if being made quite besides thyself, and drunk with extremity of love towards me, thou didst despise all things else, thou didst loathe all my creatures, and didst run only after me, crying unto me, I am wounded with thy charity. Thou oughtest my Daughter to be inflamed with so fervent an affection towards me, as whosoever did come near unto thee might perceive no other thing else, but only the heat of thine affection towards me, breathing out of thee, and whosoever did talk with thee might departed edified from thee, and warmed with the flames of that affection towards me, which he found kindled in thy soul, If therefore thou desirest to love me, thou must love me with thy whole heart. I will not allow that thou shouldest love me, and jointly with me any thing else besides me, that is, that thou shouldest not love any thing for any other respect but for my sake only. I look to be loved purely, and that thou canst never do but when thou lovest me, for my own self, that I only & no other respect, whatsoever be the cause why thou lovest me. I will also be beloved with an infinite love, and with an unmeasurable desire, for thou shouldest never find in thy soul any end or measure in loving me, but although thou didst love me never so much, thou shouldest always desire to love me more. For my love is not restrained within any limits▪ but it is infinite and without any bounds. It never thinketh itself satisfied, it can never be filled or contented with any quantity, though it be never so exceeding great, it will every day grow and increase to be more. For charity doth always increase, and what is charity but a good will. As therefore a good will cannot be restrained within any limit, and as it is without all end, so is charity likewise. I know that thou haste a will to love me with all thy heart, and that thou desirest to love me as much 〈◊〉 thyself alone, as all my holy servants do, joining all their love together. This desire is good, if it proceed not from an appetite of desiring, in respect that thou wouldst be more excellent than they, and singular above them all, as though thou only couldst love me as much as all they, when all their love were put together. It is a good desire I say, if it springeth from pure & perfect charity only, & that thou dost for mine own sake, without any other respect, desire me, love me, and wish still to increase in the love of me, and seek to love me as much alone, as it is possible for all other being joined together. Have care therefore that this desire of thine proceed not of any appetite to be preferred before others, but only because charity can never be satisfied or filled, & that the greatness thereof maketh thee think that how much soever thou lovest me, is much inferior in thine eyes to that affection which thou dost desire to carry towards me, and in no sort either answerable, or agreeable to thy desire.  
My love is no idle love, but it worketh great things where it is indeed. And where there is no desire but an unaptness and unwillingness to do good works, there is no love without all doubt. And yet notwithstanding this, if thou wantest ability to do good works, be not therefore discouraged (my Daughter) or dejected in thy mind, for thy good will pleaseth me as much as if the work were done, and is as acceptable in my sight. I will not require an account of thee for that I have not bestowed upon thee. For it is not the multitude of works, but the greatness of love which delighteth me. Many good works, if they be presented unto me without charity, do pacify me no whit at all. For what is chaff to me without wheat? to whomsoever thou dost offer wheat, which is love, offer him also chaff which is works. For although I regard not works without love, yet I will have good regard of thy love without works, so as thou be hindered by disability, necessity, obedience, or any other lawful impediment, in such sort as thou art not able to do good works. For then (as I have said) I accept of thy good will: But where power wanteth not, if love remain it doth extend itself, and exercise itself towards me, and for my sake towards her neighbour. For I have placed him as a companion with thee in my steed, that whatsoever thou wouldst bestow upon me, and cannot, thou mayest bestow upon him. And that thou mayest do it the more willingly, I have promised that I will accept as well at thy hands, and reward as largely any thing that thou dost towards thy neighbour, as if thou hadst done it to my self. For if thou haste charity, it worketh so in thee, as thou lovest him for my sake, thou beholdest me in him, thou servest me in him, thou doest me benefits in him, thou dost bear with me in him, thou dost suffer me in him, and if he offend thee, thou dost forgive me in him.  
And for this cause I gave him unto thee in my steed, that thou mayest bestow these good turns upon him, as time and place serveth, and as thou haste opportunity offered by me to do the same. For thou must not forget that which I repeated before, how charity is not to be measured or esteemed by the multitude of works, but by the greatness and sincerity of thy affection, that is, by the inward devotion of thy mind, joined with a pure, chaste, and internal disposition, inclination, & intention of thy will, which the more ready, prompt, fervent, and desirous it is, to obey me, honour me, and please me, and the more that she renounceth her own self, in seeking to please me purely, without any other respect, and to prefer me before all other creatures, the more she is drawn to love me, and the brighter she doth openly shine in all good works.  
O if the children of men did know how much it pleaseth me to dwell in such a soul, how gladly I do offer myself unto her, which desireth me only, how bountiful I do power my self into such a heart as doth seek me only, with a pure intention being withdrawn and free both from the love of herself, & of any other creature beside, desiring me fervently, respecting me wholly, staying for me patiently, and refusing to be comforted with any other thing but with me only. Nay, such a heart as I speak of, will not desire to be comforted by me, because she thinketh herself unworthy to receive any consolation from me, but desireth only to be satisfied with having my good will & pleasure fulfilled in her. For she only desireth to do, to suffer, and to be in no other sort than agreeth with my pleasure, & then although such a heart neither desireth comfort, nor any thing else, which is without me, yet I do reward and enrich her with all blessings and benefits. For there can be nothing wanting in any creature, neither can there be any thing forsaken for the love of me, that is so good, but that there shall be found in me things in steed of them, a hundred times better, purer, sweeter, pleasanter and more delightful than they were. For whether it be beauty, sweetness, pleasantness, delight, love, truth, consolation, the continual enjoying of such things as men do like, riches, glory, power, and innumerable other things of the same sort, which either may bring delights to them, or procure desire to them: all these things, are after an infinite manner more excellent, and more perfect in me, than in any creature whatsoever.  
O my Daughter, the smallest consolation which thou feelest by the presence of my goodness in thy soul, doth surmount all the delights of the world, and the pleasure that can be taken in any creature whatsoever. Yea all other delights being compared with it, doth seem bitter and unpleasant. Wherefore, if things were measured by a true and just account, it could not be, but that men would love me better than themselves, or any other creature. But now (it is a lamentable thing to be spoken) men do leave me which am their greatest good, they despise my goodness, nay which is more, they forsake their own true and only happiness, and fall to love themselves, to delight in the world, from whence all disquietness of mind, and all other mischiefs do proceed. Alas, why are miserable men so far deceived? If thou delight in love, why love they not me? whose love is chaste, pure, holy, and simple, which am an object always offered to their eyes of infinite amiableness being essentially good in myself, being a pure good, unmixed, being the chiefest and sovereign good, where the reward of love also is unspeakable delight, and most blessed eternity, whereas the love of the world on the contrary part, doth breed nothing in thy soul but unquietness, bitterness, destruction, repentance & heaviness. Leave thou therefore & contemn all worldly things and desire me only, being united unto me with all thy soul, with all thy heart, and with all thy will. For as long as thou dost addict thyself to the love of creatures, thou shalt find that which is in creatures, that is, thou shalt be defiled and disquieted, with corrupt and unclean delights, and yet besides that be never satisfied or contented. And thou shalt also be polluted with unpure imaginations, and be distracted with sundry cogitations, that be lewd and wicked. But I do collect that heart which seeketh to be joined with me, and I unite it fast unto me, procuring in it by my means all peace, quietness, and all tranquillity of conscience.  
Thou oughtest continually to entreat me, and without ceasing to pray unto me, that thou mayest after this sort forsake the world, renounce the love of all my creatures, and be wholly converted unto me, and inwardly dedicated in thy soul to my service. For no man can bestow this grace on thee, neither canst thou obtain it by any other mean but by me only. Wherefore thou must always with great regard observe the internal inspirations of my grace, thou must follow my counsel, obey my exhortations, and commit thyself altogether to my providence. My inspirations do never disagree from the holy Scripture, nor from the obedience which thou must carry to thy superiors. Therefore if thou submitest thyself unto them, and reliest in no respect upon thine own self: thou art sure to walk in all simplicity & purity of heart.  
Love is an incomprable treasure, & therefore I should be the storehouse of the same, and it should never be laid up, but in me only. O (my daughter) where thy treasure is there is thy heart also. If then thou wilt know what thou lovest, mark what thou dost oftenest think upon, what thou dost with greatest delight, & willingness hearken unto, what thou dost most fervently desire, what thou dost inwardly in thine own appetite most seek, and bend thyself unto: for that is, without all doubt thy treasure, and therein thou findest sweetest rest, most quiet, and greatest contentation. And both of them is thy treasure, both the thing which thou lovest, and the love wherewith thou lovest the same. But see into how great misery, how great unthankfulness, & how great infelicity men do fall by this means, for they do purchase to themselves hell fire, with the expense of incomparable treasure which is love. For if men contemning me, fall to love corrupt, unclean, and frail things, such as will quickly perish: they do with the same love, which they bestow upon them procure unto themselves eternal torment. Let all my friends therefore bewail and lament, this strange and unnatural kind of dealing, that I am clean thrust out of the heart of man, for whom I offered up myself in sacrifice, and whose salvation I did buy with my precious blood, & that an other which is mine enemy doth possess it only to this end, that he may draw them with him into eternal destruction, into endless misery, and into unquenchable fire.   

Of the praise of God.  
BE always inflamed (my Daughter) with a desire to praise me, to love me, to honour me, & to please me from the bottom of thy heart altogether, and by all the means that thou art able, and in such most perfect sort as I require at thy hands, Carry always in thy heart so great a reverence, so great a fear, so great a care, so great a love, and affection towards me, and for me, as thou mayest never do any thing to displease or offend me. And although it ought to be thy greatest care, thy chiefest fear, & thy speciallest labour, not to do any thing thyself, or to give any occasion by thine own negligence, that any thing should be done to offend me: Yet nevertheless, thou oughtest also to take as much care as lieth in thee for others, that I be not by them dishonoured, or offended, or that they do break my will and commandment. And thou oughtest to do this with a pure intention of mere charity for mine own sake without any other respect. For there should ever abound in thy heart, a most faithful, fervent & devout love of me, which should continually flow with forcible streams every day nearer and nearer towards me, and it should carry thee with so great violence, and run over in such exceeding abundance, as it should make thee most ready & desirous to do all things, that may be for my glory, & for the fulfilling of my pleasure, and it should possess thee in such sort, as thou shouldest desire nothing so much, as to be clearly delivered, quite discharged, and altogether weaned from all love, respect, desire, or inclination towards thyself, or any of my creatures, and to keep thyself in the same state, pure, clean, chaste, and unspotted to me only, desiring me with a pure intention, and no other thing but by this mean I may have my will, without any impediment freely, and wholly fulfilled in thee, & by thee, and that I only may possess thee, and that there may be no space or division between thee and me, but that thou mayest be close united unto me, having renounced, and forsaken all love, both of thyself or any other creature. Desire likewise that my will may be done in all things, and with all men, and that all men may know me, love me, honour me, worship me and serve. Thou wouldst rather choose to suffer ten deaths (if thou wert a faithful spouse unto me) then once to consent to any sin, although it were but vernal. For albeit it is not like that thou canst long stand in perfection without venial sin, yet thou must not in any wise willingly or of set purpose yield to any venial sin, but thou must ever be fully resolved in thine own will never to sin again. And thou must fix and settle this will of thine, in the hope of my grace, and not upon my confidence in thine own ability.  
I do ever please and delight him that loveth me, and all my works and judgements seem sweet & pleasant to to him, and he never ceaseth to praise me for them. He that loveth me need not study to find somewhat, for which he might praise me, for the love which he bareth me will show unto him what may or aught to be praised in me. And to praise me is no other thing but by loving me, to think upon me, and by thinking upon me, to honour me, and by honouring of me, to wonder at my works, and by wondering at my works, to desire that all men should extol, magnify, & love me. My praise doth lighten his heart which loveth me with a pure affection, it doth rejoice his spirit, it driveth away all heaviness from him, and withal it is a safe protection for him, both in prosperity and adversity. Whosoever spendeth his time in praising of me, it maketh him with all fortitude of mind to contemn all the mischief that the subtlety of man or the devil can practise against him.  
O how delightful a thing is it to my Angels, to hear the sweet songs of them which do continually praise me (although it be much more delightful unto them to assist their pure hearts, and to help them in setting forth of my praise) for they see men upon earth do imitate by this mean the order of the celestial companies in heaven, as though they had received here the earnest penny, or else some sensible feeling of eternal happiness, which is only a continual praising & magnifiing of my name. For there is nothing that doth so lively resemble the state of the blessed happiness in the world to come, as the cheerful & delightful voice of those which do praise my name. And touching myself, I am of so great Majesty and omnipotency, as I stand in need of no praise, and no praise can make me more glorious than I am already, neither is any creature able to praise and magnify me as I do deserve. Wherefore thou oughtest to think thyself most unworthy to praise me, nevertheless, desire yet to praise me, that thou mayest know, and it may appear manifest unto thee, how that all human praise is nothing in respect of my worthiness, & how I am far greater than all the praise that can be given me, & how all creatures when they have praised me as much as they are able, have done it much inferior to that I am worthy of, and therefore must yield that they are altogether insufficient to praise me. And although that I declare unto thee, how that every creature must give this praise to me, yet I would have thee especially to imprint this lesson in thy mind, that although thou dost endeavour never so much to praise me, (which thou oughtest at all times to do with all thy force) yet thou shouldest think that thou hadst done nothing at all.  
I will tell thee (my daughter) what kind of praise doth please me: vocal praise, (although I would have thee always to use it, & with thy voice to perform it, whensoever thou art commanded by the precept of my Church to say or sing any thing) yet I must needs tell thee, that it doth please me so much as that internal praise which consisteth in the spirit. A profound contemplation and perfect knowledge of thine own baseness, a consideration of thine own weakness, how thou art of thyself merely nothing, and a modest shame procured by the mean of thy unworthiness before my Majesty: It is a most sweet smelling sacrifice, and a most delightful praise unto me, because thou shalt be brought by it with a shamefast kind of modesty, continually to look into, and to despise in my glorious presence, thine own vileness, deformednes, unthankfulness, wretchedness and misery, and be also moved to acknowledge how thou art of thyself merely nothing, and therefore be desirous to humble and subject thyself before me, and every one of my creatures, and to be willing, or rather to wish to be in respect of thine own baseness, contemned, and trodden under of them all. Such a contrite and humbled heart I can never despise, yea the sorrowful groan of such a heart, is as much sweeter and worthier sacrifice unto me, than a huge heap of many words, & a tedious multitude of vocal prayers only. Moreover, thou dost then likewise truly and righty praise me, when I am as acceptable unto thee, for sending adversity as prosperity, and when thou givest me as many thanks, and remainest as devoutly, and zealously affected towards me in thine own will for the one as for the other. It is not also the least praise that thou mayest yield me to beware of sin, to take great pains in seeking after virtue, to thirst for the honouring and extolling of thy name, and to seek only for the fulfilling of my pleasure, and the setting forth of my glory. Besides this, it is a much purer kind of praise, and more acceptable unto me than any vocal praise, to keep thy heart undefiled, pure, and free from all vicious affections, from all slothful humours, from all heaviness, unwillingness, and frowardness in thy soul, & to cleave unto me only in all peace, tranquillity, and silence of thy spirit. What motion soever thou feelest within thee (my Daughter) what outward accident soever do happen unto thee, presently repair unto me with thy heart wholly converted and submitted unto my will, and wish that it may be turned by my grace to my greatest glory, and highest praise. by doing after this sort all things that happen unto thee shall be for the furtherance of thy salvation, and even nature itself by this virtuous custom shall be changed into grace. Wherefore if thou findest within thyself any mischievous, attempts of the devil, any filthy temptations or horrible blasphemies, or dost sensibly perceive in thy soul, the motion of any odious temptation whatsoever: endeavour thou to win some profit or benefit to thy soul by the same mean, whereby thine enemy seeketh to do thee a mischief, & account it a benefit for thy soul, if it may bring thee to praise, & glorify me. As soon therefore as thou feelest any of these temptations, come presently unto me, and say;  
O Lord my God, as often as I feel this temptation, as often as it cometh into my mind, so often do I glorify thee, with the praises of the whole court of heaven, and so often do I adore thee, to the confusion of this wicked spirit which assaulteth me, and to the honour and glory of thy name. And in this place I offer unto thee infinite praises which he is not able to do. If it be a grievous temptation which thou feelest, say: O most merciful God, although it be very troublesome which I suffer, yet I will willingly endure it for the love of thee only, and for thy honour, and if it may be to thy great honour that I should suffer greater and more grievous temptations than this is, behold I offer myself ready with all my heart to do it. Let nothing O merciful God, seem so troublesome unto me, but that I may desire above all things, to sustain any thing that may be for the glory of thy name. If thou feelest any cogitation in thy soul of beautiful, delightful, or precious things, say: O most sweet God, that proceedeth from thee which art most goodly, most beautiful, most sweet, most to be desired, and most worthy to be embraced, because thou art the greatest good, if it be thy pleasure. I will willingly want all thy creatures▪ I will willingly forsake all consolation, that thou only mayest remain in my heart, and mayest wholly possess me: which art most beautiful, and far more beautiful than all the fairest things beside thee, which art most sweet, & far more sweet than all the best & sweetest things besides thee, which art most to be desired, and above all to be beloved, because thou art far more amiable, and precious, than all the preciousest and amiablest things besides thee. Likewise if either thou hearest or seest any number assembled together, or as often as thou beholdest any exceeding beautiful thing or great multitude of people, say so often in the day to thyself. O most good and most amiable Lord, O Almighty & eternal God, let thousand thousands of the Armies of celestial spirits praise thee out of me, and let ten thousand hundred thousand of those that stand before thee, extol and magnify thy name out of me and for me, and let all the worthy supplications of thy blessed Saints make intercession unto thee for me, and let the beauty of every one of thy creatures, and the sweet harmony of them altogether glorify thee out of me for ever, and world without end.   

Of the exercise of the love and praise of God.  
IF thou dost desire to love and praise me with all thy heart, with all thy soul, with all thy force, and with all the ability that doth rest in thee, and desirest to persever in the loving of me, to the end, thou must of necessity have some exercises of love, whereby thou mayest nourish it, kindle it, increase, and maintain it. And for this cause keeps thy mind free, withdrawn, weaned, & clearly delivered from the love of my creatures, and from all internal occupation of thy mind, or business about them, and from all care and trouble of this present world, by lifting it up unto me with continual vehement, and scalding sighs, and inflamed prayers, burning with all zeal, and by aspiring, incessantly with most fervent desire to come unto me, that is to say: by desiring to love me most ardently, most perfectly, most vehemently, most faithfully, and withal continually, yea, and thirsting also to please me, in all respects, to praise me with all zeal, with all fidelity, and withal the sufficiency that is in thy power, and to fulfil my will absolutely & perfectly in all things. To conclude, thou must always have a desire to see me which am most beautiful, to possess me, who am most blessed, and to be with me who am only able to grant thee happiness, being the fountain from whom all felicity doth proceed, in whom all sweetness doth consist, and by whom all goodness must be granted. For I am of all things the sweetest, the best and the happiest, yea true happiness itself. Cleave therefore always unto me, and be never separated from me. Have ever somewhat in thy mind which thou mayest meditate upon, and which may inflame thee with the love of me, whereby thou mayest think of my sweetness and goodness, and by wondering at it, magnify and praise thy name. Or else on the contrary part, meditate upon somewhat, which may move thee to bewail, lament accuse, and reprehend thyself for thy vileness, baseness, weakness, infirmity, inconstancy, or unthankfulness, or else that may procure the suffering even with sorrow in thy soul from the bottom of thy heart with those that be afflicted and dead, to make supplications unto me for them, & for my universal Chnrch. Moreover whatsoever thou art to do, or what thing soever thou haste to think or consider of, think of them first with me, receive counsel, touching them first from me, and discourse of them first with me, that thou mayest be brought by this custom always, and at all times, (whether thou be'st alone, or in the company of others) to talk with me, and to keep thy heart still lifted up unto me, either by prayer, or else by praising of my name.  
Do whatsoever belongeth to my honour, whatsoever thou knowest will content me, or is my will that thou shouldest perform, with an unspeakable thirst to please me, and with an insatiable desire to honour me, & labour this by all the means thou mayest, and endeavour with thy help, with thy counsel, with thy travail, & by all the other means that do lie in thy power to advance my glory, that my name may be praised both by thyself and others, and that my will may be fullfiled in all my creatures. But in the mean time not withstanding, while thy outward man is thus occupied abroad, let thy inward man remain quietly with me, for thou must in no wise give thyself so much to external businesses, as that thy mind should be distracted, & rnnne wandering after sundry cogitations, and that thou shouldest draw by this mean into thy soul, many fond imaginations, and vain fancies. But rather whilst thy outward man is busied, be thou recollected in thy spirit, and gathered close together in thy soul, that it being united unto me, thou mayest ever eternally remain with me. And when thou hast learned this lesson, when thou hast accustomed thyself to this course, no external business shall hinder thee, no external act shall hurt or withhold thee, (especially if it be a good and modest one) from the mental exercise of the love of me. But thou shalt speak unto me, or rather be in thy soul peaceably united unto me, as well at that time, as at any other, so long as thou dost n● (as I have said) entangle thy mind with thinking of vain and transitory things, nor remainest drowned in the cogitations of those external businesses which thou practisest in this world. For as long as thou hast a will to keep thy heart free from the love of all creatures, there is no creature can win or withdraw thee from me, (although in thy outward man thou be troubled with never so many businesses, nor occupied with never so many actions) if thou imprintest not the forms, the representations, the love or delight of these things internally in thy mind. Wherefore never complain that external good works are an impediment unto thee in thy loving of me, or in the exercise of thy love towards me. For these things do not hinder thee (as thou dost imagine, & conceive in thy mind) but thy inordinate affection, thy want of discretion, thy infirmity, and thy evil inclination, are those things which do hinder thee, because thou haste not as yet fully mortified them all, for these do make thee not only, outwardly but also inwardly busied and occupied with thinking of my creatures.  
Moreover, thy mind being more and more distracted, divided, and made more wandering, by the multitude of these conceits: is far from being able to cleave unto me, nay it can not continue constant or quiet within itself. But be notwithstanding no whi● discouraged, if in respect of brotherly charity, or of showing thine obedience, thou be'st enforced sometime to be occupied, & disquieted in thyrie inward man for my sake. For I cannot quickly amend wherein soever thou baste saulted for my sake, and repair it again with such advantage and gain unto thee, that thou shalt be afterwards so much the nearer and with greater delight united unto me, as thou didst think thyself before farther estranged from me. But if thou find thy mind so much distracted and alienated from me, as thou canst neither recollect it again, not yet return and lift it up unto me, think not that it wandered thus in respect of that charity, which thou diddest show merely for my sake: but that thine own wicked inclination hath polluted thee, and that there was somewhat hidden within thee, which moved thee to this, whereof I was neither the Author, nor occasion, neither yet was it any way procured by my mean. Thou wert not belike circumspect and watchful enough, & therefore thou didst suffer some human infirmity. But remain not long estranged or alienated from me, for I am always ready to receive thee again into my favour. Let thy mind therefore be ever occupied in holy desires, that no moment may pass thee, wherein thou dost not wound me, & seek to pierce my heart, with the fiery darts of thy inflamed desires. Be assured (my Daughter) that thou canst desire nothing at my hands in vain: For if thou dost desire me, thou shalt find me, but if I do withdraw and hide myself from thee for a time, I do it for thy sake and thy benefit. For I cannot choose, but grant my presence to those that call upon me and desire me: I do stir up these desires in thee, I inspire thy heart with these motions, and therefore be sure that I will also hearken to thy petitions and hear thy prayers. For although it should so fall out by the mean of my providence, as thou shouldest remain unheard of me to the hour of thy death, yet it is unpossible that I should not at all hear a devout prayer, but I will even at that instant render thee an hundred fold for thy long forbearing. Thou shalt then perceive that I will give thee for one petition a thousand: Thou shalt then find that thou art heard at my hands, when thou canst never again lose the benefit thereof. But in all thy prayers, let this be thy chiefest petition, to desire at my hands, that thou mayest possess me: For what is more holy? what is more for my glory, than to desire me above all things, and before all things? Pray therefore always for a naked, and only a pure, a most chaste a most perfect, a most earnest, a most watchful, and a most faithful charity towards me, whereby both thyself and all other reasonable creatures may cleave unto me with a resolute mind and with such a firm intention, as no accident whatsoever shall be ever able to withdraw you from me.   

Of the transformation of a man.  
IF thou wilt obtain me wholly (O soul) thou must of necessity altogether forsake thyself, and altogether cast off thyself; thou must submit, and resign over thyself to extreme poverty, and the want of all temporal commodities and consolations, for obtaining of me, who am the chiefest and greatest good. Comfort thyself therefore, and be not dismayed though thou be deprived of all humane consolation, and though thou want all humane friendship, favour and secure whatsoever. Consider how a stout Soldier, not regarding his friends, his Country, his wife, his children, his quiet rest, & his commodity at home, doth forsake them all, and being a stranger in a foreign land, doth there daily offer his life to dangerous labours, to painful journeys, to continual watching, and to sundry miseries and perils, that he may obtain riches, and win honour. In this sort must thou forsaking all things, be spoiled and made poor, & deprived of all comfort, and of all my creatures whatsoever, that nothing may remain in thee, wherein thou mayest find any quiet, or that thou mayest possess but me only. Moreover, thou must exclude and banish from thyself the forms, impressions, and memory of all things, and thou must cleanse and purge thy mind of them all, and carry about with thee, the image of me only imprinted in thy heart, wheresoever thou becomest, and how so ever thou art, either alone by thyself, or in company of others: Thou must also whether thou eatest or drinkest, sleepest or wakest, speakest or be silent, always look into me, as a pure glass and most perfect pattern for thee to imitate, that thou mayest direct thy course of life & transform thyself according to the virtues and manner of my life: If thou eatest, dip every morsel in my wounds: If thou drinkest, take the warm blood out of my wounds, which will breathe charity into thee: If thou speakest, look upon me which heareth thy words, and beware that thou speakest nothing that is uncomely or may displease me: If thou holdest thy peace, hearken unto me which do speak to thee, and search out with all diligence and care what is my perfect will and good pleasure: If thou sleepest, lean and repose thyself upon my heart, applying thy mouth to the gaping wound of my sacred heart, and suck my grace thereby into thy spirit, and breath again into me, by sending a sweet smelling sacrifice out of it, the marrow and precious treasure of thy heart: To be short, wheresoever thou be, govern and direct thyself according to that most notable, most worthy, and most perfect pattern, which thou beholdest in the course of my life. Look into and desire earnestly, with all zeal and affection to imitate my most modest, and most lowly humility, my most courteous affability, my most sweet meekness my most stout patience, my most pure chastity, my most abundant piety, my most faithful providence, my most merciful compassion, and my most servant burning, exceeding and incomprehensible charity. Imprint the lively Image of these things in thy soul, fill thy mind wholly with it, & by the means thereof, banish altogether from thy mind all the forms and imaginations of all other things whatsoever: I will not have thee to be without the impression or the representation of some thing in thy heart, neither yet will I have thee seek before thy time to fly higher than this. Wherefore rest thou quietly in the mean space, in beholding the Image of my humanity and Passion, until I do raise thee up to a higher dignity, where thou shalt not feel these motions, but be wholly and clearly delivered from any impression or imagination, and be free from all exercise and action, and remain in all peace & quietness, having clean forsaken thyself, and thine own appetite: In the mean time therefore meditate how I am always present with thee, and how I do look and pierce into the close corners of thy soul, and into the deepest secrets of thy heart, and do not only meditate upon it, but learn also to have a sensible feeling of my presence, whereby I do always behold thee, always mark thee, always look into thee, and always both fully know thee, and perfectly understand thy greatest secrets. Learn to conceive how I am without all limitation, not possible to be circumscribed within any bounds, how I am an unchangeable an eternal, an unspeakable, and an incomprehensible light, how I am best worthy to be beloved, how I only deserve to be desired, and how I am wholly pure and sinsere, not stained with the least evil, or smallest imperfection: Likewise, how I am wholly good, in whom there is nothing but it is to be beloved, and able to delight all that seek me, how I am wholly most faithful, wholly most merciful, and always ready most abundantly to communicate myself with the children of men. To conclude, learn to know how I am a most constant & faithful lover, a most sweet comforter, a most mighty Protector, and a most rich and bountiful rewarder of all those that bear me good will, of all those that love me, and of all those that hope in me, and how I am able to bring more delight unto their soul, than all other things that can be desired. For I never procure loathsomeness in them, but I satisfy all their desire● and by satisfying them I daily more & more increase their desires in them. Let this perfect Image of me, wholly possess thy mind, and imprint it so deeply therein, that thou mayest not consent in thy will, to the meditation of any other fancies, but presently banish them from thee as soon as they begin to enter into thee. Take heed that thou do not receive them within thy soul, but being free from them remain united to me only, in all internal quietness, and in all internal peace and tranquillity, waiting for me continually most desirously, and without ceasing, that thou mayest repose thyself in all things upon me, that thou mayest follow me, and that thou mayest submit thyself unto any thing whatsoever, that I will have thee either to do or suffer, yea unto whatsoever I will have done in thee, or with thee. Thou oughtest so clearly to renounce thyself, that is, all love of thyself, and all proper inclination to follow thine own will, as that nothing may be able to move thy reasonable and intellectual soul, being now as it were) quite alienated and separated from thy body, and that it may seem all one unto her, whether her external and sensible man be praised or discommended, be afflicted or comforted, and that she may look upon him (as it were) a far off, being clean divided from him, and wholly united and joined unto me.  
To obtain this separation of thyself from the following of thine own appetite, and the love of any creature, thou must of necessity (as I warned thee before) have great watch over thyself, and straightly observe by what mean thou mayest soonest find out and discern what lieth hidden in thy secret thoughts, what moveth thee, what draweth thee, what enticeth thee, what possesseth thee, what reigneth in thee, to conclude what thou lovest, or inclinest thyself unto, whether it be thyself, or any other creature, or me. And thou must thrust presently out of thy mind whatsoever thou findest there, if it be not myself, or any thing whereof I am not the cause: for thou art then become subject to the thing which possesseth thee, when it hath gotten a full interest and propriety in thee. And I for mine own part will never consent to be beloved with a companion, but I look for my whole love, & I desire to remain alone peaceably in thee. Therefore except thou seekest me only, thou shalt never perfectly find me, & if thou wilt enjoy me, banish all creatures from thee, suffer no division, no impediment, no separation to ramaine between thee & me. Let all creatnres be banished from thee, but only such as are for thy mere & necessary use, let them have no interest or place in thee, let them not possess thy heart, that thou mayest keep thyself free and pure unto me from them all, and mayest wholly submit thyself unto me, and be ready to be disposed in all such sorts as it shall be my pleasure. Whatsoever shall happen it is enough for thee that thou knowest it, & findest that it hath happened. Trouble thyself no farther with thinking of it, neither suffer it to stay within thee, or to leave any memory or impression thereof in thy soul: But rely upon me, & commit all thy cares unto me, pass and fly over the multitude, the variety, and the mutability of these cogitations, and never fix or settle thy heart but in me only. Seek therefore me only, and no more but me in all things, which am one in all and all in all, and wait patiently with long suffering till thou findest me, yea, be content to stay & wait for me again, and again, and never be weary of waiting till thou findest me, reposing thyself upon my goodness, and upon my most wise providence, full of all love towards thee with a strong faith, and an assured trust therein. When I stay my coming, expect me patiently, for I will come at the last without doubt. Be free and altogether weaned in this sort (O soul) from all thine own desire, be separated wholly from all love and delights in creatures, be alienated from all fancies & imaginations, and cleave wholly unto me, in simplicity and nakedness of heart. Offer thyself to be possessed by me, and forsake clean thine own will, that thou mayest rejoice with me in all eternity, where there are neither things past, nor things to come, but all things present. Aspire always, and earnestly desire to obtain this even now, and forsake both thyself and all other things, that is thy body, and sensuality, and have thine eye so fixed upon eternity in this present world, as if thou wert quite separated from it, and clearly delivered out of it, beholding all the things in this world a far off, as those things which thou hast wholly forsaken, and from which thou hast clearly weaned thyself. Think that thou art alone with me, and that I am with thee, and as if there were no other creature present with thee.  
Whatsoever thou feelest besides me, make no account of it, because it is in truth nothing worth being without me, and no creature shall hurt thee as long as thou receive not within thy heart the fancies and imaginations of any thing, nor yet feel any cares or affections within thy soul.   

The Conclusion.  
I Deliver these exhortations unto thee, as to my Daughter & spouse (O soul) and as a rule to instruct thee how thou shouldest put off the old man, and walk hereafter in newness of spirit, and how thou shouldest daily bend and endeavour thyself with all thy force to grow to more perfection. Therefore as often as by reading over these things, thou findest that thou haste not observed all in such sort as I have commanded thee, or that thou haste faulted in some little part thereof, so often still renew thy good intention, by stirting up a new ●eruor of zeal in thee. And although I give thee these to read: yet I desire notwithstanding that the ears of my my heart should always be open to my inspirations, whereby thou mayest not only outwardly read them, but inwardly hear these ●essons from me.  
And the reason why I would have these inspirations laid before thine eyes, is because thou art for the most p●rte delighted with vain letters and messages from thy friends, which d●o procure in thy heart nothing but distraction, an unsavoury kind of disquiet, & a perilous kind of darkness. Therefore when thou hast contemned these vanities & forsaken them quite, I have given thee these wholesome instructions, that thou mightest have some good thing for me to read, & to occupy thy mind withal. And that thou mightest by the consideration of them, & for the love of me despise all other things which seek to pollute thy heart. And the more that I who am thy spouse, & gave thee these lessons (O soul) ought to be beloved, the more acceptable ought this instruction to be unto thee, which proceeded from me, that am not only worthy to be beloved, but most worthy of all things to be beloved, & deserve above all things most to be desired, yea and aught before all things most to please & delight thee. I would have thee also the more faithfully to observe these precepts, seeing all these things which I have delivered unto thee, are not to delight a carnal & worldly heart, but a spiritual, and such a one as is devout towards me, & seeing they do not please the ears with picked phrases, and trifling words, but they feed the loving soul with truth and wholesome counsel: It remaineth only now to warn thee, that thou be watchful & diligent.  
For I stand at the door of thy heart & knock.  
Open thy heart therefore unto me (O my sister, O my spouse) give me thy heart, and desire me only, seeing I do so much desire thee, but assure thyself of this one thing, thou canst never receive me as long as thou lovest any thing besides me: Thou canst never have me, as long as thou hast any thing of thyself without me, thou canst never enjoy me, as long as thou possessest thyself: Go therefore out of thyself, and forsake thyself, that I only may possess thee, & that thou only mayest possess me. This is a short time which is present, but that which followeth, is without all limi●●ion of time, and eternal without end.  
Be watchful therefore (my Daughter) I do once again exhort thee, receive me for thy husband, O soul, O daughter, O spouse, and show thyself in all purity without all hypocrisy, or dissimulation, a spouse worthy of me▪ Love me which am thy Lord and redeemer, think of me, take heed to thyself, have consideration of thine own estate: Cleave unto me, and persever with me to the end. Live happily henceforth in me, and so I bid thee heartily farewell.    

THE INSTRUCTIONS that follow are very fit and profitabie for all men: they are divided into two rules, and may either be called rules of direction for man's life, or else the fraternity of the Disciples of Christ, that is to say, of such as desire to imitate the life of Christ, and seek to live after the rule of the Gospel, and do study with all their endeavour to attain to the perfection of charity.  
JESUS CHRIST which was made man for your sakes, did preach unto the world in times past, and did deliver them one rule of life by my Gospel, for the salvation of them all, he that believeth it can never err, and he that observeth it, can never perish. For it only is sufficient alone for the salvation of man's soul, being well observed, and it instructeth a man fully in all virtue & perfection. Wherefore if men did live after that rule, there were no need of the rules of Monks, there were no need of any fratermities, or associations, and companies of men, that live under one rule and order, there were no need of any Cannons whatsoever, seeing that they which did live purely, and sincerely, after the rules of my Gospel, needed no other thing to instruct them in all perfection. But after men forsook the rule of my Gospel, and every man did only think upon his own proper commodity according to the nature of men, it came then to pass not without my counsel & the direction of my spirit, that many of my Saints did devise sundry means whereby they might root out of men's minds the love of the world, and of themselves, which made them quite forsake me, and grow cold in the zeal of my Gospel, and my honour, and beside that they might restore unto the world a perfect course of life how to observe my Gospel & commandments. Therefore many of them have set down certain rules, how to keep under and cut off those Passions whereby any occasion is taken to break the law of my Gospel, and have commanded that those things should be straightly observed, which do stir up, purify, & strengthen the spirit in all virtue and goodness. For they knew that the spirit could never be strong, and have the upper hand of the flesh, but by punishing it, and by flying all occasions of evil.  
For when the spirit is strengthened, there will always be in you a chaster, a ferventer, and a more constant love or devotion to keep my commandments.  
And it is evident that these holy servants of mine, for this cause had a will to appoint all things in such sort as might be for the furtherance of men in following the course of my Gospel, and would not permit the smallest tittle that might be against the rule thereof. It appeareth manifestly also that some which lived after them added new constitutions and many ceremonies to these rules, and do more severely and sharply punish men for their transgressions of these ceremonies then of my Gospel, which is a very preposterous course, and contrary to all good order: For a man is reprehended and punished if he speak out of time, if he sing out of tune, or if he offend in any of these ceremonies: But I had rather (although I allow of these) that there should not be smaller but much greater care had of evangelical precepts, then of these ceremonies, and that there should be a sharper censure against those that break my commandment, then against such as offend in these ceremonies. As for example, I would not have them go unpunished which swear by my name, which backbite any body, which hate their neighbours, or do any such thing as my Gospel doth forbid: For there must needs be appointed sharper discipline, and there must always be severer laws ordained and appointed to punish those which do break my commandments, and for the observation whereof, the ancient Fathers in times heretofore did prescribe sundry rules. But what shall I say? I see that you in these days do neither observe my Gospel, nor yet the rules of the ancient fathers: You boast of my words in your mouth, and of my Gospel in your common talk, but it appeareth manifestly, how far I am out of your heart, seeing you do not love me, nor my commandments. Return you therefore now (although it be late, which have walked so long in crooked paths with your hearts unto me, do penance, and believe in my Gospel, & do not only believe whatsoever my Gospel teacheth, but by believing it, and loving it, do whatsoever it commandeth. If you will be Christians, if you will be my Disciples, imitate me, learn of me, because I am meek and humble of heart, walk ye, as I have walked. Moreover, if you will be monks, if you will be Priests, or if you will be religious men, do those things which are of the spirit, and mortify by the spirit the works of the flesh. If you be (as you say) evangelical and followers of my Gospel, do those things which my Gospel doth command you, how long will you say unto me Lord, Lord, and will not do those things which I say? Do those things which I command you, and show yourselves to be my friends, not in words only, but in deed and in truth, for he that heareth my words, he that hath my commandments and doth them, this is he that loveth me. And for stirring up again of that fervent zeal which hath been heretofore in men's minds, & for renewing the observation of my gospel, which is almost worn out of use: I deliver now unto those which are my friends, and devoutly affected towards me, two very short rules: whereof of the one is very fit for such as be less perfect, and but new beginners in following of my service, and the other for such as are more perfect, and desire with all earnestness to attain to a most chaste love of me. Wherein there is taught no heap of ceremonies, or multitude of prayers, but a reformation of the conscience and inward man, and a devotion of the mind. There is nothing entreated of touching the colour or fashion of garments, but the desires and endeavours of men are stirred up to the honouring & following of evangelical obedience. And there is one kind of fraternity made and set down in this place, whereby the minds of many may be united in one, and the intents of all such agree in one, and do love and serve me. No man is here of necessity bound to vow the observations of those things, (although that a vow doth very much adorn, strengthen and enrich a good will) neither yet doth it make a man, if men offend therein farther guilty of a fault, than the transgression of my law doth pronounce him.  
But I do give a Law, to all those that desire to serve me, agreeable to every man's ability, and I do temper it in such sort, as every man being assisted by my grace, may keep and fulfil it. For my will is, that all men should be saved, and I have furthered them by my help unto it, so far as it was my good will and pleasure: And in this respect I do often forbear sinners, and wink at their infirmities that are weak, lest I should break asunder a broken reed, or should extinguish, or altogether put out smoking wood: And therefore being desirous to gather together unto me, all those that serve me, I have divided them into two kinds: In the first I place those that be weak and new beginners: and in the second those that be more perfect, and long practised in my service, and I have set down such precepts for them both as I have chosen out of my Gospel, and are most agreeable to their state and vocation,  

An instruction or rule for such as be weak and imperfect, and but new beginners in my service.  
Whosoever will vow himself to be one of my soldiers, and to fight in my warfare, and give me his promise in that behalf; if he cannot at the beginning beware of all sins, yet let him specially beware of mortal sins. If thou therefore desirest to be accounted in the number of my faithful servants, beware of sin, and cut off and fly all occasions of sinning. Eschew evil, and do good for I will never enter into a wicked & malicious soul, neither will I dwell in a body subject to sin: Never spare thy life or temporal goods, if it may either deliver or preserve thy neighbour's soul from mortal sin; for thou oughtest to esteem more any soul whatsoever, (for the salvation whereof I gave my life) than thy body or temporal goods, and I ought to be more precious in thine eyes, for whose honour thou dost it, than thy corporal or temporal life. Never give thy consent therefore to any sin, but specially to a mortal sin, whether it be in thyself or an other. Whatsoever thou wouldst not have done unto thyself, do not to an other. Use no fraud, practise no deceit, do no injury: And if these things be offered thee, bear them with silence for my sake, or at the least complain no otherwise of them but justly, and after a just and rightful manner. For I have commanded my servants to prosecute that justly which is just.  
Never requite evil with evil, nor reproach with reproach, never repay wrong with wrong, but suffer all for the love of me, who when I was railed on, did not rail again, when I suffered, did not threaten mine enemies, but did willingly submit myself to an unjust sentence. Do thou therefore in like sort, if thine enemy hunger, feed him, if he thirst give him drink. Thou oughtest to love thine enemy, and to do good to those that hate thee, that thou mayest be the son of the father that is in heaven, which doth not good only to those that are good, but to the evil also. Be merciful as thy Father in heaven is merciful, give alms to thy neighbour, if thou haste ability, or bestow daily at the least one benefit or other upon him, or some good turn, or some service, or some work of mercy, or some deed of charity. And thou oughtest faithfully to exercise thyself in this exercise, in taking of compassion, or succouring of thy neighbour. For whosoever is merciful towards another, shall obtain mercy at my hands, and whosoever shall do any thing to the least of my servants whether it be good or evil, I will account it as done unto myself. If thou livest according to the flesh, thou shalt die, but if thou dost mortify the works of the flesh with the spirit thou shalt live. Mortify therefore thy desires, thy senses, & thy members hereupon earth, that thou mayest not do whatsoever thy carnal appetite doth provoke thee unto.  
Thou shouldest every day at the lest no less than once withdraw, restrain, and deny thy consent for my sake, to something which thou desirest or wherein thou delightest: And if there happen nothing that day wherein thou mayest bridle thine affection in this sort, yet do it for the love of me as occasion is offered, in barring thyself from having, feeling, seeing, or hearing somewhat which thou much desirest, or to which thy concupiscence, and the curiosity of thy nature doth move thee. And although there is no other fruit to be reaped by it, yet deny thine own will in this point and kill this desire in thee, for the love of me. Thou must never swear, but being enforced by lawful authority for a matter of truth before a judge, thou must never speak of my name in vain, or unprofitably, or make a lie at any time.  
Either read, or hear Mass every day if thy state or office will permit thee, and do it in the memory and honour of my charity, and of all my benefits which I have heretofore most abundantly and willingly powered upon men, and do daily from time to time bestow upon them: But if thou canst not hear Mass, say with the same intention the prayer which I taught my Disciples, and the salutation of the Angel to my blessed Mother, and offer me up to my father in thy heart, and with me all those good works, which I and my servants either do or have done for thee, and the universal Church.  
Thou oughtest every month once at the least sacramentally to confess thy sins, and to receive the Sacrament of my blessed body, at the feast of my nativity, and resurrection, at Pentecost also, and at the Assumption of my Mother, and at the feast of all Saints, except living under some vow, or in some Monastery thou be restrained there, by the rule of thy life to do the same.  
Thou oughtest to adore me every day early in the morning, being one God in Trinity of persons, and to recommend thy self to my protection, and to pray that I would defend thee, and all the world from sin. He that is so simple as he can not perform this, let him read with a devout intention, a Pater noster, and an ave Maria.  
When thou haste no better mental exercises by internal meditation, and by somewhat that may kindle a more fervent zeal in thee, say every day in the honour of my passion and my wounds, five Pater nosters, and so many ave Maries,  
Moreover, say every week in the veneration and honour of my mother, a hundred and fifty ave Maries, that is, three Rosaries, every rosary containing in itself fifty.  
Make also every day in the veneration & honour of the Sacrament of my blessed body, two low curtsies, reverences or adorations. One to give me thanks for that charity & benefits which I showed towards thee in my incarnation, death & passion, & in the institution of this blessed Sacrament. An other to give me as much honour as lieth in thee, in recompense of that reproach which I suffered at their hands that receive my precious body unworthily, and do handle it impurely. Thou must every day make two other adorations or courtesies, one to obtain the fruit which I dying procured for all men by my passion, & by the efusion of my blood, and loss of my life, & which I have a will that all men should be partakers of. Thou must in this also pray that I may power my grace so into the heart of every man, as they may receive the same virtue, efficacy, and fruit of my Passion, which being upon the Cross and suffering there, I wrought for them, and in such abundant sort, as I by my death did offer it unto them.  
Thou must make an other kind of courtesy, or some kind of humiliation of thyself in my presence, to praise me and give me thanks for the efusion of my blood, and for all my mercies which I have at any time powered out both upon the good and bad, and thou must pray for their conversion, which are in damnable sins, and for the reformation of the Church; they that cannot conceive thus much, let them say with a devout intention, two Pater nosters, and two ave Maries.  
Thou must fast every Friday, if infirmity, weakness, labour, necessity, travail, age, or some other reasonable occasion do not let or hinder thee, or if it like thee better, thou mayest eat awise that day, so that it be temperately, and very sparingly, and that thou usest no sodden meat at supper, whereby thou mayest punish thy flesh at the least a little, and bring thyself to bewail the bitterness of my death and Passion.  
Learn diligently to know the commandments of my Gospel, and the precepts of my Church, & when thou hast learned them do not break them, for the love of any earthly thing whatsoever.   

another Instruction or Rule, for such as with a more fervent zeal and spirit do earnestly labour to attain to perfection.  
I Have placed those in this second division, which forgetting clean all things that are past, desire ever to come to a better and more perfect course, and therefore this rule shall be for such as seeking to attain to true perfection, do covet with a longing mind to be made one with me, and wholly united unto me.  
Wherefore whosoever thou be, that desirest to serve me with thy whole heart, and to please me in all things, thou must not, with thy certain knowledge and deliberate judgement offend in any sin, although it be but venial, and thou must desire instantly at my hands, with most humble and devout prayers, that I may keep and preserve thee from all kind of sin: Thou must be holy, as I am holy; thou must be perfect as I am perfect, thou must be holy I say in my sight, and when thou art so, thou must remember that it is not of thyself, but it proceedeth from me. Thou must not think otherwise of thyself, then of a most wicked sinner, that had infinite times deserved eternal damnation, if my most benevolent and ever most ready mercy had not been always at hand to preserve and deliver thee from it.  
Walk in that vocation whereunto thou art called, and live according to the state and rule of thy vocation. Observe diligently, and perform faithfully whatsoever my holy Scripture commandeth thee, and whatsoever thou promisest with thy mouth unto me. It is also thy duty, not only to inquire after my commandments, but to seek to know my pleasure in all things, and to ask my counsel, & even with a certain earnest desire to follow and fulfil them both▪ Led a solitary life, being separated from all unnecessary businesses, from familiarity, and discourses with men, and give thyself to silence, solitariness, and prayer, as much as thy state will permit thee. My Apostle sayeth, that the servant of God ought not to be contentious, contend thou not therefore in words. Abstain also from every idle word, but chiefly from all carnal● and backbiting▪ peeches, never speak any thing, nor yet hear any thing of those which be absent, but that which is good. And although that it may sometime be done with a good intention, to speak evil of him that is absent, yet never consent to speak or to hear evil of him, except the matter which is spoken of, be most certain and apparent. And yet if thou dost exceed in this, thou must not go away unpunished, but thou must enjoin some penance & punishment to thyself for thine offences. Observe sobriety, in meat and drink, & use all my creatures with temperance, that thou mayest be made poor in spirit with the love of me, delighting in no worldly thing whatsoever, but as a stranger & wayfaring man▪ look upon all things in this world with a pure and free heart, not subject any way unto them, but as it were passing lightly by them, and not having any desire to remain with them.  
Accustom thyself to show all humility, meekness, benignity, and piety, towards thy neighbours, remembering and beholding me in every man and frame thyself to deal so with them, as thou wouldst deal with me. For in truth I take any thing whatsoever thou dost to thy neighbour as done unto myself.  
Thou oughtest to judge no man, nor yet intrude thyself to dispute, or to give thy judgement of other men's matters and consciences whatsoever they be: except thou be'st appointed a judge by me, and so by the virtue of thine Office, art to give thy judgement therein. And yet notwithstanding, if thou shalt see any man offend, and dost hope to do him some good by thine admonition (or at the least hast no mistrust to make him commit more grievous sins by the reprehension) thou mayest courteously admonish him that doth sin, earnestly, and gently entreating him that he would be mindful of his own salvation and amend his fault: But if he seek to defend himself, and obstinately contend with thee in maintaining of his doing; do not thou dispute with him, except thou have hope by little and little to bring him to a better course, neither yet labour to defend thine own speeches when it is to no purpose, but give him place humbly without any anger and with all meekness and quietness. Likewise if thou be reprehended at any time without a cause, thou mayest if thou wilt gently and mildly give an account of thy dealing, but thou shalt do better (except any scandal might rise thereby) if thou dost humbly ask pardon, and without any excusing of thyself promise amendment (as far as thou mayest lawfully do without offending of me) and with all thou mayest give him thanks to show thee charity which did in this sort admonish thee. I have heretofore warned men in my Gospel, that if any man will come after me, he must deny h●mselfe. For as in the denying of a man's self, the whole perfection of a man's life consisteth, so by the love of a man's self, he cometh ever to ruin and destruction. Labour therefore by all the means that thou mayest, for the utter denying of thyself, and let it be thy principal study how to mortify thine own will in thee. Thou must so dispose of all thine own matters, as thou mayest be ready either to do or omit things in such sort as thou shalt be counseled and advised by some good man, or one that feareth God, if thou haste not a spiritual governor. Trust not thine own judgement in any thing. Do nothing of thine own head, chiefly in doubtful things, where there may be danger. And therefore thou must not procure for thyself any thing in seeking to please thine own appetite (except such things only as do manifestly appear without all doubt to be acceptable unto me) but thou must rather respect the profit of many, and thou must ever prefer before all things my honour, and commit thyself wholly to my providence. I will take care of thee, I will take the charge upon myself to provide for thee, and let this be thine only study, to behave thyself in such sort, as thou do nothing to the derogation of my honour, and the resisting of my good pleasure. But to the end that thy work may be more pleasing unto me, by the denying of thyself, (if thou livest not in the monastical course of life) thou mayest for the undertaking and performance of this course, promise thy obedience herein to a Priest or some other man that feareth me, neither aught the infelicity of this present age, nor the impiety of wicked men, which do slander and impugn vows and promises made unto God, yea even such as are most profitable for man's salvation, either move or discourage thee an● whit.  
But thou oughtest to be the rather induced by this to rely thyself upon my mercy, and firmly to believe that I which have given thee an aspiration to have a will to do well, and to make a holy vow, will also give thee power and ability to fulfil it: For neither of them proceed from thyself, but it cometh from my grace both to have a will to do well, and to do well indeed, and both to promise and perform those things which are profitable for thy salvation. Choose a place that is secret and desire to live hid and unknown, and disclose not thy counsels to every body, but to him only who is the director and guide of thy conscience. Be not careful or desirous to please men, seek not for their commendation, or to have a name amongst them, neither yet study to do any thing whereby thou mayest obtain a great opinion, praise, or admiration amongst them, seeing that all things are proper to me only, to which any praise or commendation is due; but endeavour rather so to bridle thine affections, as that thou mayest in all simplicity and purity of heart, think worse and more basely of thyself than of any other, and be desirous that other men should conceive the like opinion of thee; so as whatsoever thou dost, whether it be a thing worthy of commendation, or else such a thing as may make thee to be contemned, and reproached of others, be no more moved with it (if it be not sin) either inwardly in thy mind, or outwardly in thy show, by entering into any passion, than thou wouldst be if any other man had done the same; and boast nothing of thyself, glory nothing in thyself, challenge and ascribe nothing to thyself, by the mean of my gifts, attribute no more to thyself for any virtue that is in thee, or for any good works that are done by thy means, than thou wouldst do to a hatchet, or any other instrument, which is nothing at all in itself, and is able to do nothing by itself, but if any thing be done by it, it is by the will of the Artificer which worketh with it, and which could do the same by an other instrument if it pleased him: For in that it is come to be an instrument, & that it hath any thing in itself, whereby it may now be employed to some use, it hath not this ability of itself nor from any other, but from the Artificer, who did frame it in such sort, as it may work and do somewhat; but without an Artificer, or one to work with it, it lieth still unprofitable, and serveth to no purpose. In like sort must he think of himself which desireth to be my son, and to imitate my humility, and will undertake to follow this rule of life, he must consider of his own estate, how full he is of miseries, defects, sins, and infirmities. Moreover he ought to look into every man, & respect those things only in them, wherein I have adorned them with any grace and virtue, that he may be brought by this consideration to acknowledge himself always inferior unto them all: And let him not challenge or ascribe any thing▪ unto himself for those virtues, operations, and good g●●tes, which I bestow upon him; but let him make no other account of them, then if they were in another, and let him give the praise & glory of them all to me wholly without challenging of any thing to himself thereby. And therefore thou which desirest to be a follower of this rule, must have great care of thyself, and thou must so diligently look into thine own behaviour, and be so watchful in all thy actions, as thou neither mayst seek any thing, nor bend thyself to desire or follow any thing besides me: that is, thou must desire nothing but my glory, and the fulfilling of my pleasure only. Wherefore in what thing soever thou findest thyself to bear rule, that is, in what thing so ever thou seekest to please thyself, or findest self love to reign in thee, there thou must renounce thyself, & omit wholly the doing of that thing (if thou hast no lawful impediment to the contrary) seeing by it thou didst not seek to please me with a pure intention.  
Thou must complain to no man of those crosses which thou sufferest, except it be to have counsel at their hands; for thou oughtest to receive all things thankfully which I send thee, and to refer all things unto me.  
Therefore howsoever the storms of affliction shall violently assail thee, or in what sort soever adversity shall chance to overwhelm thee, have thou a mind ever ready to endure all patiently, being wholly subject to me, and for me to all creatures. Endeavour with violence to repress these motions which rise up against thee, & labour clean to forsake thyself, and be not moved with any passion against men, neither yet contend, dispute or resist them. Seek not moreover means to avoid affliction: nor to deliver thyself from them, but be content to receive all things with silence in peace and tranquillity, and with an indifferent mind, as willing to receive adversity as prosperity at my hands; And be content to bear them with all quietness in thy soul, as long as it shall be my pleasure.  
And when thou art in adversity, do not seek with a deliberate intention, that is, of set purpose, for any consolation, though it be never so little, but commit all things unto me, and patiently expect the event, and end of all things from my hands.  
Thou must confess thy sins sacramentally to a Priest every week no less than once, but thou must do it to me every day in prayer, and that very often, with the sorrow of thy heart, and with an humble accusation of thyself for thy manifold offences, and thou must offer thyself unto me, ready in all things to set forth my glory, and to fulfil my pleasure.  
Thou must receive also the Sacrament of my blessed body every month, once at the least, if thou canst not every week once or twice, and thou must not omit to make those courtesies which I set down in the former rule in the veneration of my glorious Sacrament, and in the memory of my death. If thou shalt fail in any of these things heretofore recited, thou shalt not thereby be guilty of a new fault by undertaking the performance of this rule, neither shalt thou offend more by the mean of it, than another which liveth without this rule and fraternity, but for every transgression which thou makest by being overcome with thine own inconstancy, do not cease altogether from following this good purpose of thine, but enjoin thyself for thy penance and punishment to say one ave Marie, or some greater penance as thou shalt think convenient: Thou must say every night notwithstanding three ave Maries before my most holy and glorious Mother: One for those negligences which thou hast ignorantly committed, and which thou dost not remember: An other to entreat me by her intercession for the amendment of thy life, perseverance in virtue and obtaining of my grace: The third▪ that the worshipping and honouring of me may be daily amplified, enlarged, augmented, & increased either by this rule by what other means so ever, that shall seem best to me.  
Use such spiritual exercises as are most agreeable to thy devotion, state, and nature, wherein thou mayest spend thy time profitably, and be lifted by them in thy heart unto me, increasing daily in goodness, and enforcing thyself from time to time to do better and better.  
He that will undertake to follow this fraternity or rule, and govern himself according to the prescript order thereof, let him kneel before the Image of me crucified, if he be alone, or had rather be secret by himself, & let him earnestly entreat me that I will vouchsafe to receive him for my disciple, that I will power my grace upon him, & both strengthen & confirm this good will in him so fully, as he may resolve constantly, & unremovably, to live according to these rules & directions: Let him also teach others, and gain souls unto me, and bring them unto my service.  
But if there be many that undertake to follow these rules, they may exhort one an other in me, and may be united in brotherly charity, by the mean of the likeness and unity they have in their course of life, in that they all do follow this fraternity. And let them not receive every man at all adventures into their society, specially such, as there is no hope of the constancy of their mind, & perseverance of devotion, lest that their lightness and instability, which do not endeavour to attain to the perfection of that course they have undertaken, may discourage others in their good purpose, and make them give over their holy intention.   

VERSES FOR HELPING a man's memory, wherein are expressed the principal and speciallest points, of those good lessons which are comprehended in these rules.  
Have special care to rule thy tongue,  
Forbear to please thy carnal will:  
Do good to all, while time thou hast, and what thou art remember still.  
Forsake thyself, it is not much, Christ took for thee much greater pain:  
Be meek in mind, that thou with him in endless glory mayst remain.  
By the rule of thy tongue is understood, that thou must refrain from all idle, backbiting, contentious and quarreling words, and from all complaining speeches. By forbearing to please thy will, is meant that thou must wean thyself from the desire of all vain pleasures, transitory things, and earthly delights, and that thou must mortify all thy senses. By doing good to every man, thou art exhorted to perform all the works of mercy, and charity towards thy neighbours. And in that thou art willed to remember what thou art, it is to make thee know thyself, and to humble thee, because if thou look into thine own ability, thou shalt plainly find, that thou art merely nothing of thyself, nor yet able by thyself to do any thing at all.  
By forsaking of thyself is meant, that thou must renounce thine own will, deny thine own self, and seek to please God only, and wholly with a pure intention. Lastly, thou art exhorted to be meek in mind, whereby is signified, that thou must use all meekness, courtesy, and benignity towards thy neighbours, and thou must ever retain all peace, quietness, and tranquillity in thy soul, patiently expecting the pleasure of almighty God and accepting always in the best part of his providence, whatsoever it shall be his will to send thee.  
¶ CHRISTO LAUDES, ET SANTAE MATRI EIUS HONOUR, Amen.  
FINIS.    

❀ A VERY SHORT EXercise of Love unto God the Father, God the Son, and God the holy Ghost, the most blessed Trinity, and one true, GOD, wherewith a man ought once every day to offer himself with his whole soul unto his divine Majesty, and to give him most humble thanks for all the benefits which he hath received at his most gracious hands.  
O Lord my God which art infinite goodness itself, and both unchangeable and unspotted, according to all the perfections which I can conceive of thee, always remaining the very same that thou wert from the beginning. Thou madest every creature for thy glory, thou doest preserve and govern them with such wisdom, that being so many, so great and so divers as they are, there is none which doth withdraw himself from being under thy subjection, and yet thou doest neither dig nor labour, but always remainest in most blessed quiet. Thou hast created me according to thine own Image and likeness, and dost preserve me in that being which I am. Thou hast redeemed me of most pure charity by the death of thy blessed Son, and in most painful and troublesome manner, that thou mightest show unto me the riches of thy grace, the bounty of thy mercy, and the exceedingnes of thy love towards me: Thou hast made me to come in a noble sort to the acknowledging of thy most holy name, thou hast brought me to that most holy Religion, and thou hast raised me to so high a dignity. Thou hast directed me always in thine own presence, and hast carried a single regard towards me, and thou hast made me to find favour in the eyes of thy servants, that they might take care of my salvation. Thou hast delivered me also from many dangers and tribulations both of body and soul, from infirmities, from sicknesses, from beggary, from fall headlong, from sundry perils, from wicked men, from drowning, and from infinite other mischiefs which might have happened to me as well as to others, if thy love & mercy had not delivered me from them. Thou hast also most often delivered me from sin, from falling into the gulf of sinners, from being devoured by them, and from eternal damnation. Thou hast moreover given me a firm confidence to believe that thou hast chosen me to eternal happiness, wherein thou will manifest thine own self unto me. Oh, I shall then plainly know and see thee my Lord and God, I shall love thee perfectly and most purely, I shall find most blessed peace in enjoying thee only, and I shall always most sincerely praise and glorify thee with all thy Saints: O merciful God confirm this, and perform this quickly in me. O Lord my God for all the benefits that thou haste wrought, and shalt work in me, and in every one of thy creatures, be all honour, glory, thanks, dutiful service, hearty affection, chaste fear, and sincere love to thy divine Majesty, world without end, Amen.  
O merciful God make me thankful, and pardon me I beseech thee most graciously, for all those abominable ingratitudes, intolerable negligences, & innumerable sins, which I have committed against thee: (And if thou hast communicated, thou mayest add to this and say) for thine own sake, and by the virtue of thy blessed Sacrament which I have received, root out of my heart all malice, grant me an humble confession, a hearty sorrow, a discreet abhorring, a zealous forsaking and a necessary detestation of all my sins, and both true repentance and a perfect amendment in this life. Grant also that I may never again offend thee, for thine unspeakable mercy, and infinite goodness, and make me to love with all the affection that it is possible for me, thy most sweet friendship, & thy most precious grace, excite me most earnestly to desire it, and quickly to find it, with perseverance, therein even to the end. O merciful God, grant that I may not neglect this goodness and long suffering of thine: Strengthen me always both in soul and body to do thee service, and grant me thy grace that I may soberly use thy creatures, to the glory and praise of thy name.  
I give thee thanks, O Lord jesus, & thee O holy Ghost, being equal with the eternal Either, which wert content for my salvation, to be conceived of the same holy Ghost, and to be borne of the most pure Virgin Marie, and to be made man. What do I own thee, and how much am I bound unto thee O Lord jesus? O GOD which wert man, O man which wert God, O Messiah, O Christ, the anointed of our Lord, O Emanuel, O God with us, O Lord of exceeding Majesty, and most constant lover of men, how wert thou made a mortal man, subject to a mortal life, to sheddings of thy blood, to persecutions, to sorrow, to pains, and chiefly to the torments of the Cross, when thou wert made poor and miserable, and most vile and contemptible in the sight of men.  
What shall I render unto thee, O sweet Lover, for that most bitter death which thou suffered'st for me, and for that unspeakable charity which thou showedst towards me? I beseech thee O Lord jesus, by thy incarnation, by thy remaining in the Virgin's womb, by the joy of thy soul, at the grace of thine v●ion, when thy divinity and humanity were joined in one, by thy Nativity in winter time, by the pain of thy circumcision, by the veneration wherewith the Sages did adore thee, by the presentation in the temple, by thy flight into Egypt, by thy banishment there, by thy fearful return again into thine own country, by thy subjection, obedience, & most virtuous life, by the penance which thou didst for our sins, by thy baptism, fasting, and temptation in the wilderness, by thy penury, poverty, & necessity which thou enduredst in this mortal life, by all the troubles which thou feltest, by thy most gracious, virtuous and glorious life, by that ingratitude whi●h thou didst endure at the jews hands, when they would have thrown thee down headlong from the top of the hill, when they sought traitorously to entrap thee in thy words and deeds, and when they did devise how to stone thee with their violent hands.  
I beseech thee also by thy modesty, humility, patience, meekness, & all the other virtues, by thy humiliation of thyself at thy disciples feet, when thou washedst them, by the institution of thy most blessed Sacrament of thy precious body, and by the most delightful taste, & unspeakable sweetness thereof, by thy sadness, agony, & bloody sweat which thou didst endure, when thou praiedst in the graden▪ by thy being forsaken of thy disciples & all men, by thy being betrayed by thy own servant, by the bands, reproaches, injuries, buffets, blows, spiting upon & blasphemies which thou didst suffer, by the false accusation, & unjust condemnation which thou receivedst, by thy grief for Saint Peter's denying thee, judas betraying thee, and the other Disciples forsaking thee, by thy being led unto divers judges, to receive the sentence of death, by the mockery, nakedness, scourging of thy body, crowning of thy head, and vexing of thy innocent soul: by thy being rejected when Barabas was excepted, by the unjust sentence of the judge, by thy being led with thieves, by the carrying of thy Cross, by the mockery of thy adversaries, & by the shamefulness of thy death, by the lamentation which devout persons, but chiefly thy Mother made for thee, by the toil and weariness which thou sustained, by the bitter drink which thou tasted, by the plucking of thy flesh, with the plucking of thy garments which thou endured, by thy being stretched out on the Cross, by thy nailing to the Cross, and the torments which thou there received, by those blessed tears which thou didst shed, by those intolerable injuries which thou didst patiently bear, by thy most holy prayer, by the commiseration which thou tookest of the thief that said. Lord remember me when thou comest into thy Kingdom.  
By the compassion of thy mother, by thy crying thou wert forsaken, by thy drinking of Vinegar & Gall, by thy saying all was finished, by thy most cruel death, by thy unspeakable charity wherewith thou suffered it, by the piercing of thy side, thy mother looking on, by thy holy burial, by the heaviness of thy friends, by thy resurrection, by thy appearing to them again, by thy ascension, by the sending of the holy Ghost, by the institution and foundation of thy Church, by the assumption of thy mother, by the glorification of thy Saints, by thy last judgement, and by the eternal salvation which thou wilt grant to thy servants souls and bodies. Thou didst rise again from death triumphantly, thou didst appear to thy Disciples gloriously, thou didst rejoice their hearts wonderfully, thou didst ascend up into heaven in their sight miraculously, thou didst send the holy Ghost to direct thy church, thou didst gather up thy servants unto thee, thou didst assume thy blessed mother to thy eternal kingdom, thou shalt come to judge the quick & the dead, thou shalt reign with all thy Saints world without end, and remain with thee, O sweet jesu. What shall I render unto thee, O gracious lover, for that most bitter death which thou suffered'st for me, & for that unspeakable charity which thou showedst towards me? O good jesus make me I beseech thee partaker of all thy merits and mercies, make me thankful for them, and in recompense of them to love thee again which loved me so much, and even to be ready to die for thy love.  
Pardon me for all mine unworthiness, all my vileness, all my undutifulness, and all my negligences, wherein I have offended thee. Teach me true wisdom, that thou only mayst be wisdom unto me, and all other things whatsoever foolishness. Grant that I may never use any kind of concupiscence. Grant me true knowledge, pure intentions, holy purposes, and perfect discretion in my conscience, and in thy holy service. Make me stout & forward, to show myself such a one in the sight of thy glorious Majesty, as becometh me. Encourage me & strengthen me against all faintness of heart, errors, scrupulosities, fancies, and such like. Open my understanding in judging truly of the Scriptures and conceiving rightly of thy good pleasure, that I may know what is acceptable in thy sight, and when I do know it, grant that I may both love and perform it,  
Deliver me from taking any care for other men's causes, orbusiing myself with other men's matters, that by this mean I may more wholly please thee, and more perfectly, safely and quickly come unto thee. And if it shall please thy most excellent Majesty, to work this in me, thy will be done, and help me I beseech thee, that I may be a profitable member in all Offices touching thy service, and neglect nothing that may express my duty towards thee: Make me like unto thee both in life and manners. Grant me modesty, humility, obedience, patience, and whatsoever else is necessary for my vocation.  
O most gracious and loving Lord, quicken me and revive me with thy grace, separate me wholly from all evil and convert me altogether unto thyself, and grant that I may hate that which thou hatest, & love that which thou lovest. Make me to increase continually, and abundantly in all virtues. Strengthen me and confirm me in thy Catholic faith truly understood. Increase faith in me, settle me and fortify me in an assured hope, grant me always to conceive rightly of thee, and to rely wholly upon thee, give me a firm confidence in thee, & that I may worship thee devoutly, honour thee chastened, and love thee perfectly with a simple heart, a pure soul, a quiet mind, and a safe conscience. Grant that thou only mayest content me, that thou only mayest delight me, and that thou only mayest possess me, and that I may desire thee only, love thee only, and study how to please thee only. Make me that I may never be separated from thee, that I may labour earnestly to come unto thee, find peace in thee alone, & quickly come unto thee. Let all inordinate love be clean mortified in me, and remove all other impediments from me, that may hinder me to come unto thee, which art only to be desired, and only to be beloved.  
I do confess thee, O Lord my God, three persons, the Father, the Son, and the holy Ghost, and I do adore and worship thee one true God 〈…〉 thyself, 〈…〉 wholly and 〈…〉 glorious Majesty, as 〈…〉 bound lying prostrate 〈…〉 yield themselves in every thing unto thee, read●● with all 〈◊〉 will, perfectly with all obedience, and truly with all sincerity.  
Forgive me (O most merciful God 〈◊〉 I have not carried that affection towards thee which I ought, and 〈…〉 grace, that I may worship thee, 〈…〉 in truth, and in such 〈◊〉 as I am bound.  
¶ CHRISTO LAUDES, ET SANTAE MATRI EIUS HONOUR, Amen.  
FINIS.   


¶ A HYMN OF THE LIFE and Passion of our Saviour Christ, made after the manner of an Alphabet, every verse beginning with every Letter, as they follow one another in order in the Christ cross row.  

Almighty Lord whose love to us,  
was greater than we can express:  
Which suffered'st death our souls to save,  
and ledst thy life in all distress.  
Grant that thy love wherewith for us,  
thou meekly didst these torments bear:  
May keep us from those dreadful pains,  
which for our sins we justly fear.   

bend down sweet Christ those gracious eyes  
which we from thee do still expect:  
Thou with thy blood hast us redeemed,  
thy servants suit do not reject:  
Extend to us thy mercy here,  
that on this earth in danger live:  
Remit those faults which we have made,  
and all our sins do thou forgive.   

COme down to us which for our sakes,  
vouchsafed to leave thy glorious seat,  
And taking here on thee our flesh,  
didst suffer oft both cold and heat.  
With hunger, thirst, and bitter scorns,  
with taunts, reproach and all disdain:  
The which of love to work our good,  
thou wert content for to sustain.   

Deliver us from pride O Lord,  
which humbly washed thy servants feet:  
And scorned it not to make them know,  
how humbleness for them was meet.  
And when as thou away had washed,  
the foulness of their inward skin:  
Thou gavest them thy body strait,  
to comfort then their souls within.   

EXcite our hearts to honour thee,  
by thinking of those dreadful fears:  
Which in the mount perplexed thy mind,  
where thou didst pray with floods of tears.  
Then unto thee an Angel came,  
ere that thou hadst thy prayer done:  
When as thy blood like drops of sweat,  
in streams from thee along did run.   

FAlse judas there did thee betray,  
than sought thy foes to take thee strait:  
And seeking thee to them thou went'st,  
which for thy life did lie in weight.  
But they like men clean void of grace,  
where meekness could no mercy find:  
First pulled and hauled thy sacred flesh,  
and after fast thy hands did bind.   

GOod jesus how art thou oppressed,  
thy servants fly and leave thee quite,  
Thy cruel foes on thee do run,  
like Wolves on Lambs with all despite.  
With whips they scourged thy tender skin.  
they spit upon thy glorious face:  
Thy cheeks they box, thy eyes they blind,  
and with reproach they thee disgrace.   

HOw meek wert thou then after this,  
thine actions it did still bewray:  
Before the judge they thee accuse,  
and thou no word at all didst say.  
And when thou spakest they blasphemed,  
thy holy speech they did deride:  
They pulled they hauled and thee condemned,  
none of thy words they could abide.   

IN white thou wert for mockery clad,  
at thee to jest each way they sought:  
And in that rob of greater scorn,  
thou after wert to Pilate brought.  
As judge he sat, the people there,  
with open throat did often cry:  
Lose Barabas the murderer,  
and on the Cross let jesus die.   

Keep us from care of men's reports,  
by seeing thee thus far abused:  
In that they chose a wicked wretch,  
when thou by them wert clean refused.  
And kill in us all carnal thoughts,  
by thinking of thy grievous pain:  
When as thy flesh with whips was torn,  
and streams of blood ran out amain.   

LOrd, Lord, what pains didst thou endure?  
one might thee now all bloody see:  
And swollen with prints of those same stripes,  
which these vile men had laid on thee.  
And not content thy head they crowned,  
with pricking thorns to make thee find:  
In every part most grievous pain,  
and to afflict thy patiented mind.   

Meek as a lamb these wrongs thou bare,  
and mildly all their taunts endured:  
Not once in speech reproving them,  
which had to thee such harms procured.  
Thou wert not moved when as thy foes,  
did thee salute inscornefull wise:  
Nor when they spat upon thy face,  
and with contempt did thee despise.   

NO pity did they take on thee,  
in suffering of this cruel pain:  
But more and more thee still revilde,  
with scornful spite and all disdain.  
Thy life (sweet Lord) to have thee lose,  
that was their suit and only cry:  
nought else could slake their bloody thirst,  
but needs they must have thee to die.   

OBedient strait to die thou wert,  
and with despite thee more to scorn:  
Upon thy back thy Cross they laid,  
which was with whips so foully torn.  
And when thou wert condemned to make,  
this sacrifice for all our sin:  
Thee with two thieves for spite they joined,  
which all their life had graceless been.   

Passed half the way thou wert not gone,  
when as this weight did vex thee sore:  
A man by blood the steps might find,  
which thou hadst passed along before.  
Her weeping eyes thy mother cast,  
on thee in this thy deep distress:  
Which look did both your hearts rejoice,  
and made thy pains to seem the less.   

QVite root sweet jesus out of us,  
●ll things that may displease thy mind:  
To make us thankful for thy love,  
which by these pains we plainly find.  
For they of thee a spoil to make,  
pulled off thy clothes by force at last:  
And pulling them pulled off the skin,  
which to thy clothes then cleaved fast.   

Reviling thee O King of Kings,  
they never left all void of shame:  
For when thou wert upon the Cross,  
they jested at thy holy name.  
Between two thieves yet hanging there,  
in suffering death to ransom us:  
Thou ceasedst not for those to pray,  
which did revile and use thee thus.   

Salvation there thou promised,  
unto the there that it did crave:  
And willed john whom thou didst love,  
of Marie still all care to have.  
Unto his charge thou her bequeathed,  
but she to see thy grievous pain:  
With bitter pangs of grief did feel,  
her woeful heart quite cut in twain.   

THou crydst my God in this distress,  
why dost thou clean me now forsake:  
And to increase thy pain the more,  
they gave thee gall thy thirst to slake.  
Yet yielding strait to him thy soul,  
thy trust in him thou plainly showed:  
And then a wretch thy side did pierce,  
from whence both blood and water flowed.   

Unhappy were thy friends O Lord,  
to see thee with this torment killed:  
But thou again the third day rose,  
whereby their hearts with joy were filled.  
And in their sight with triumph didst,  
ascend to make them know:  
That thou wilt there all those reward,  
which serve thee here on earth below.   

ZIn was the cause of every grief,  
which thou sweet jesus didst sustain:  
Keep us therefore from sin O Christ,  
that we may scape eternal pain.  
Lord wash us with thy precious blood,  
let us with sin not spotted be:  
That we in heaven with all thy Saints,  
for ever may sing praise to thee.   

Yield us no prey unto this world,  
but give us grace to praise thee still:  
Both with our mouths and in our hearts,  
to honour thee with all good will.  
Make with thy love our hearts inflamed,  
imprint it deep within our mind:  
And make us always thirst for thee,  
that we with thee all joy may find.   

zeal ever keep in us O Lord,  
of serving thee and doing well:  
That we may walk in virtues path,  
and from our thoughts all vice expel.  
Sweet jesus still inspire our hearts,  
with lightning of thy holy Ghost:  
And guide us in that happy course,  
which may content and please thee most.    

A Hymn wherein the praise of all creatures are offered up unto the Creator.  

O Christ the glorious Crown,  
of Virgins that are pure:  
Which dost a love for thee to thirst,  
within their minds procure.  
Which are the spouse of those,  
that chaste and humble be:  
The hope, the life, the only help  
of such as trust in thee.   

Which ever lovest best  
a chaste and spotless mind:  
And thee to love commandest those,  
in whom thou both dost find.  
To serve thee O sweet Lord,  
thy creatures all are priest:  
And for to sound thy praise withal,  
that in their might doth rest.   

All Angels with their troops,  
all Saints that are above:  
Do laud thee still and never cease,  
with songs of fervent love.  
The Sky, the Land, the Sea,  
and all on earth below:  
The glory of thy worthy name,  
do with their praises show.   

All Virgins purity,  
which made thy life their guide:  
All piety of humble hearts,  
abhorring filthy pride.  
All martyrs constancy,  
which did this world despise:  
All true remorse that they declare,  
which do from sin arise.   

All charity of those,  
whose souls thy love doth warm:  
All simple plainness of such minds,  
as think no kind of harm.  
All sweet delights wherewith,  
the patient hearts abound:  
Do blaze thy name, and with thy praise,  
they make the world resound.   

The thunder shows thy power,  
and lightning which we see,  
The snow and rain with wonder tells,  
that none is like to thee.  
The winter yields thee praise,  
and Summer doth the same:  
The Sun, the Moon, the stars and all,  
do magnify thy name.   

The beast, the fish, the depths,  
that in the Sea remain:  
With cheerful voice set forth thy praise,  
and show thy glory plain.  
The pearls the precious stones,  
the birds thy praise do sing:  
The woods the wells and all delights,  
which from this earth doth spring.   

The earth itself declares,  
thine honour and thy state:  
It doth bewray how thou for us,  
didst all these things create.  
The flowers fruits and trees,  
the men which thou didst frame:  
And women eke invite us still,  
to praise thy holy name.   

The roses that appear,  
so fair in outward sight:  
The violets which with their scent,  
do yield so great delight.  
The Lilies that bring forth,  
so pure and white a flower:  
With sweet Pomegranates do extol,  
and praise thy mighty power.   

What creature O sweet Lord,  
from praising thee can stay,  
What earthly thing but filled with joy,  
thine honour doth bewray.  
Let us therefore with praise,  
thy mighty works express:  
With heart and hand, with mind and all,  
which we from thee possess.   

O Christ whose glorious power,  
doth far and wide extend:  
All creatures praise thy holy name,  
and do thy works commend.  
So goodly to behold,  
so pleasant and so sweet:  
So fair thou art as all this praise,  
for thee of right is meet.   

Thou art that firm delight,  
which never will departed:  
The chaste, the true and only joy,  
of every faithful heart.  
The comforter of such,  
as sorrow doth torment.  
The raiser up of those by grace,  
which do their sins repent.   

O Lord our life and health,  
our whole and surest trust:  
Remit our faults for we have been,  
most wicked and unjust.  
Forgive us our misdeeds,  
remove them from thine eyes:  
Give us thy grace, that we by it,  
may earthly things despise.   

Grant that all worldly joys,  
to us may better seem:  
And that we may her vain delights,  
as filthy dung esteem.  
Transform us unto thee,  
and so our hearts inflame:  
As we our force and life may spend,  
in praising of thy name.   

Grant that in loving thee,  
we constant may abide:  
That thee alone we may desire,  
and all things hate beside.  
That all in all to us,  
thou mayst for ever be:  
And that forsaking clean ourselves,  
we still may cleave to thee.   

Flow thou into our souls,  
with streams of thy delight:  
Possess us whole and carnal thoughts,  
may be surpressed quite.  
Let nothing us content,  
that may thy mind offend:  
Let all our joy and whole delight,  
on thee alone depend.   

Make us in loving thee,  
to languish with desire:  
And burn as with the flaming heat,  
of that most sacred fire.  
That we for thee may thirst,  
and thou mayest us possess:  
And that we may alone of thee,  
in all our life express.   

To thee make us to run,  
with a desirous mind:  
And senseless else to every thing,  
that here on earth we find.  
Let us in thee whole drowned,  
rejoice with happy peace:  
And let us sleep in thee sweet Christ,  
whose joy doth never cease.   
¶ CHRISTO LAUDES, ET SANTAE MATRI EIUS HONOUR, Amen.  
FINIS.