Oddparts Press

hear from Thee of themselves, but to know themselves? and who
knoweth and saith, "It is false," unless himself lieth? But because
charity believeth all things (that is, among those whom knitting
unto itself it maketh one), I also, O Lord, will in such wise
confess unto Thee, that men may hear, to whom I cannot demonstrate
whether I confess truly; yet they believe me, whose ears charity
openeth unto me.

But do Thou, my inmost Physician, make plain unto me what fruit I
may reap by doing it. For the confessions of my past sins, which
Thou hast forgiven and covered, that Thou mightest bless me in Thee,
changing my soul by Faith and Thy Sacrament, when read and heard, stir
up the heart, that it sleep not in despair and say "I cannot," but
awake in the love of Thy mercy and the sweetness of Thy grace, whereby
whoso is weak, is strong, when by it he became conscious of his own
weakness. And the good delight to hear of the past evils of such as
are now freed from them, not because they are evils, but because
they have been and are not. With what fruit then, O Lord my God, to
Whom my conscience daily confesseth, trusting more in the hope of
Thy mercy than in her own innocency, with what fruit, I pray, do I
by this book confess to men also in Thy presence what I now am, not
what I have been? For that other fruit I have seen and spoken of.
But what I now am, at the very time of making these confessions,
divers desire to know, who have or have not known me, who have heard
from me or of me; but their ear is not at my heart where I am,
whatever I am. They wish then to hear me confess what I am within;
whither neither their eye, nor ear, nor understanding can reach;
they wish it, as ready to believe- but will they know? For charity,
whereby they are good, telleth them that in my confessions I lie
not; and she in them, believeth me.

But for what fruit would they hear this? Do they desire to joy
with me, when they hear how near, by Thy gift, I approach unto Thee?
and to pray for me, when they shall hear how much I am held back by my
own weight? To such will I discover myself For it is no mean fruit,