r of the heart is to give a strong
faith. Mine was without limits, as was also my resignation to God, and
my confidence in Him--my love of His will, and of the order of His
providence over me. I was very timorous before, but now feared nothing.
It is in such a case that one feels the efficacy of these words, "My
yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matt. 11:30).

CHAPTER 13

I had a secret desire given me from that time to be wholly devoted to
the disposal of my God, let that be what it would. I said, "What
couldst Thou demand of me, that I would not willingly offer Thee? Oh,
spare me not." The cross and humiliations were represented to my mind
in the most frightful colors, but this deterred me not. I yielded
myself up as willing and indeed our Lord seemed to accept of my
sacrifice, for His divine providence furnished me incessantly with
occasions and opportunities for putting it to the test.

I had difficulty to say vocal prayers I had been used to repeat. As
soon as I opened my lips to pronounce them, the love of God seized me
strongly. I was swallowed up in a profound silence and an inexpressible
peace. I made fresh attempts but still in vain. I began again and
again, but could not go on. I had never before heard of such a state, I
knew not what to do. My inability increased because my love to the Lord
was growing more strong, more violent and more overpowering. There was
made in me, without the sound of words, a continual prayer. It seemed
to me to be the prayer of our Lord Jesus Christ Himself; a prayer of
the Word, which is made by the Spirit. According to St. Paul it "asketh
for us that which is good, perfect, and conformable to the will of God"
(Rom. 8:26-27).

My domestic crosses continued. I was prevented from seeing or even
writing to Mrs. Granger. My very going to divine service or the
sacrament, were a source of woeful offences. The only amusement I had
left me, was the visiting and attending the sick poor, and performing
the lowest offices for them.

My prayer-time began to be exceedingly distressing. I compelled myself
to continue at it, though deprived of all comfort and consolation. When
I was not employed therein, I felt an ardent desire and longing for it.
I suffered inexpressible anguish in my mind, and endeavored with the
severest inflictions of corporeal austerities to mitigate and divert
it--but in vain. I found no more that enlivening vigor which had
hitherto carried me on with gr