The Autobiography of Madame GuyonGuyon, Jeanne Marie Bouvier de la Motte
Religion
The Autobiography of Madame Guyon
Guyon, Jeanne Marie Bouvier de la Motte
Catholics -- France -- Biography; Guyon, Jeanne Marie Bouvier de La Motte, 1648-1717
My father's nephew, of whom I have made mention before, was returned
from Cochin China, to take over some priests from Europe. I was
exceedingly glad to see him, and remembered what good he had done me.
The lady mentioned was no less rejoiced than I. They understood each
other immediately and conversed in a spiritual language. The virtue of
this excellent relation charmed me. I admired his continual prayer
without being able to comprehend it. I endeavored to meditate, and to
think on God without intermission, to utter prayers and ejaculations. I
could not acquire, by all my toil, what God at length gave me Himself,
and which is experienced only in simplicity. My cousin did all he could
to attach me more strongly to God. He conceived great affection for me.
The purity he observed in me from the corruptions of the age, the
abhorrence of sin at a time of life when others are beginning to relish
the pleasures of it, (I was not yet eighteen), gave him a great
tenderness for me. I complained to him of my faults ingenuously. These
I saw clearly. He cheered and exhorted me to support myself, and to
persevere in my good endeavors. He would fain have introduced me into a
more simple manner of prayer, but I was not yet ready for it. I believe
his prayers were more effectual than his words.
No sooner was he gone out of my father's house, than thou, O Divine
Love, manifested thy favor. The desire I had to please Thee, the tears
I shed, the manifold pains I underwent, the labors I sustained, and the
little fruit I reaped from them, moved Thee with compassion. This was
the state of my soul when Thy goodness, surpassing all my vileness and
infidelities, and abounding in proportion to my wretchedness, granted
me in a moment, what all my own efforts could never procure. Beholding
me rowing with laborious toil, the breath of Thy divine operations
turned in my favor, and carried me full sail over this sea of
affliction.
I had often spoken to my confessor about the great anxiety it gave me
to find I could not meditate, nor exert my imagination in order to
pray. Subjects of prayer which were too extensive were useless to me.
Those which were short and pithy suited me better.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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