You are dwelling in a prison and are in chains, and are shut up with unclean and filthy men: who could be more blessed than you on this account? Who wears on his head so noble a golden crown as he whose right hand is fettered for God? What dwelling-place so vast and splendid as a prison full of gloom, and dirt, and ill smells, and tribulation for the same cause? Rejoice, therefore, exult, you are crowned, be glad that these sad occurrences are the means of procuring you immense riches. This is the seed full of unspeakable promise; this is the combat which is secure of victory and reward; this is the voyage productive of a rich return. With these things in your minds, my most honoured and religious lords, rejoice and be of good cheer, cease not to give praise to God in all circumstances. You are inflicting severe blows on the devil, and laying up to yourselves a great reward in heaven. _For the sufferings of this time are not worthy to be compared to the glory to come which shall be revealed in you._ Pray write to me often. I desire most earnestly to receive letters from men who are in chains for God’s sake, telling me of your sufferings, and even in a strange land I shall be greatly consoled by their perusal. To the Priests and Monks Theodotus, Nicholas, and Cherea. Written from his Exile at Kucusus, a.d. 405. (_Benedictine Edition_, cxlvi., t. iii., p. 685.) You allege the incursion of the Isaurians as the cause of your absence, but I look upon you as present and myself as with you, and see no obstacle in this against your arrival. For such are the wings of charity that they fly swiftly and with great alacrity in every direction, in spite of a thousand impediments. But if I am deprived of your bodily presence, cease not from prayer, and our merciful God will grant it us. Since I too, bearing you constantly in my mind, long for a sight of you in the flesh, and I know that I shall have this too, as you are earnestly beseeching Him Who can do all things to break up the winter and to establish peace everywhere. Now, to gladden you with news of myself, I am enjoying much quiet and leisure. And although many things disturb my health, as, for instance, the absence of physicians and the want of necessaries (for there are no shops here and no drugs), a bad climate (for the summer tries me no less than the winter, by its excessive heat as opposed to the cold), a siege severe and constant, with perpetual fears of incursions from the Isaurians,—in spite, I say, of all this and much more which is undermining my strength whilst recovering from that great danger and severe illness, I am fairly well. Do not fail to write to me often, and to tell me how you yourselves are. For I view your affection as a great consolation and encouragement, as a treasure producing a multitude of good things. And whenever I think about your own state, your steadfast heart, your strong and enduring love, I cannot put it out of my mind.