But Thou, everywhere present, heardest her where she was, and,
where I was, hadst compassion upon me; that I should recover the
health of my body, though frenzied as yet in my sacrilegious heart.
For I did not in all that danger desire Thy baptism; and I was
better as a boy, when I begged it of my mother's piety, as I have
before recited and confessed. But I had grown up to my own shame,
and I madly scoffed at the prescripts of Thy medicine, who wouldest
not suffer me, being such, to die a double death. With which wound had
my mother's heart been pierced, it could never be healed. For I cannot
express the affection she bore to me, and with how much more
vehement anguish she was now in labour of me in the spirit, than at
her childbearing in the flesh.
I see not then how she should have been healed, had such a death
of mine stricken through the bowels of her love. And where would
have been those her so strong and unceasing prayers, unintermitting to
Thee alone? But wouldest Thou, God of mercies, despise the contrite
and humbled heart of that chaste and sober widow, so frequent in
almsdeeds, so full of duty and service to Thy saints, no day
intermitting the oblation at Thine altar, twice a day, morning and
evening, without any intermission, coming to Thy church, not for
idle tattlings and old wives' fables; but that she might hear Thee
in Thy discourses, and Thou her in her prayers.
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