To tell you further, dearest Mother, shortly after my last letter to you it pleased the divine Goodness somewhat to relieve me of the great oppression and desolation from which I was then suffering, by giving me a sensible feeling of the divine presence. I have already told you that I have never been altogether without some slight and almost imperceptible feeling of the presence of God, by which in the midst of a storm of troubles and temptations my spirit never wholly loses its tranquility, and as long as I maintain myself in that presence my soul is calm notwithstanding the piteous struggle. When it first pleased our Lord to give me some relief in the terrible temptations under which I laboured for so many years after I made my Vow,[B] I received the grace of a simple consciousness of His presence at prayer, and remaining in it I used to surrender myself up to Him and become absorbed and at rest in Him. This favour has not been withdrawn from me, notwithstanding that by my infidelities I have often hindered it; yielding to apprehensions that I should be useless in this state, and, wanting to do something on my own part, I used to spoil all. I am still often subject to this same fear, not, however, when at prayer, but at other exercises; I am always wanting to make acts, or to do something, and yet I feel that by so doing I am taking myself from my centre--that this looking straight at God alone is the only remedy for me, the sole relief in all the troubles, temptations, and accidents of life. If I followed my attraction, I should certainly never seek any other way than this, for when I think to fortify my soul by reflections and discourses, or by acts of resignation, for all of which I have to do violence to self, I only succeed in exposing myself to fresh troubles and temptations, and finding therein nought but dryness and dissatisfaction, I have perforce to return to this simple surrender to God. Apparently He wishes thus to show me that He desires on this subject a total cutting off of the activities and workings of my mind, so that His activity and not mine should undertake the care of all. Mayhap He requires this of me not only on the subject of Faith but on all others as well, for in every trouble and in every spiritual exercise to look at Him is all that He seems to want of me, and the more unwaveringly I do so the better I find myself, and the quicker my troubles pass. But the activity of my mind is such that I am always in need of comfort and encouragement. Alas! my dearest Father often spoke to me of this. Yet recalling the past, I see that my sufferings at that time were not the troubles I now endure. Then it was only my distracted prayers and such-like trifles that troubled and sometimes deceived me, for which I am not sorry, as there was no real danger; God was there, and I had only to keep myself steadfast to Him. But in my present trials I am as one always on the edge of a precipice.