esence, wherein I keep myself by a simple attention, and
a general fond regard to GOD, which I may call an _actual presence of_
GOD; or, to speak better, an habitual, silent and secret conversation
of the soul with GOD, which often causes me joys and raptures
inwardly, and sometimes also outwardly, so great, that I am forced to
use means to moderate them and prevent their appearance to others.

In short, I am assured beyond all doubt that my soul has been with GOD
above these thirty years. I pass over many things that I may not be
tedious to you, yet I think it proper to inform you after what manner
I consider myself before GOD, whom I behold as my King.

I consider myself as the most wretched of men, full of sores and
corruption, and who has committed all sorts of crimes against his
King; touched with a sensible regret, I confess to him all my
wickedness, I ask His forgiveness, I abandon myself in His hands that
He may do what he pleases with me. The King, full of mercy and
goodness, very far from chastising me, embraces me with love, makes me
eat at His table, serves me with His own hands, gives me the key of
His treasures; He converses and delights Himself with me incessantly,
in a thousand and a thousand ways, and treats me in all respects as
His favorite. It is thus I consider myself from time to time in His
holy presence.

My most useful method is this simple attention, and such a general
passionate regard to GOD; to whom I find myself often attached with
greater sweetness and delight than that of an infant at the mother's
breast; so that, if I dare use the expression, I should choose to call
this state the bosom, of GOD, for the inexpressible sweetness which I
taste and experience there.

If sometimes my thoughts wander from it by necessity or infirmity, I
am presently recalled by inward motions so charming and delicious that
I am ashamed to mention them. I desire your reverence to reflect
rather upon my great wretchedness, of which you are fully informed,
than upon the great favors which GOD does me, all unworthy and
ungrateful as I am.

As for my set hours of prayer, they are only a continuation of the
same exercise. Sometimes I consider myself there as a stone before a
carver, whereof he is to make a statue; presenting myself thus before
GOD, I desire Him to form His perfect image in my soul, and make me
entirely like Himself.

At other times, when I apply myself to prayer, I feel all my spirit
and all