To whom tell I this? not to Thee, my God; but before Thee to mine
own kind, even to that small portion of mankind as may light upon
these writings of mine. And to what purpose? that whosoever reads
this, may think out of what depths we are to cry unto Thee. For what
is nearer to Thine ears than a confessing heart, and a life of
faith? Who did not extol my father, for that beyond the ability of his
means, he would furnish his son with all necessaries for a far journey
for his studies' sake? For many far abler citizens did no such thing
for their children. But yet this same father had no concern how I grew
towards Thee, or how chaste I were; so that I were but copious in
speech, however barren I were to Thy culture, O God, who art the
only true and good Lord of Thy field, my heart.
But while in that my sixteenth year I lived with my parents, leaving
all school for a while (a season of idleness being interposed
through the narrowness of my parents' fortunes), the briers of unclean
desires grew rank over my head, and there was no hand to root them
out.
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