Book X
What I Am Now
Let me know You, O Lord, who know me; let me know You, as I am known. Power of my soul, enter into it and fit it for Yourself, that You may have and hold it without spot or wrinkle. This is my hope; therefore I speak; and in this hope I rejoice, when I rejoice in what is wholesome. But do You, my inmost Physician, make clear to me what fruit I may gather by doing this.
For the confessions of my past sins, which You have forgiven and covered, that You might bless me in Yourself — when read and heard, they stir up the heart, so that it does not sleep in despair and say, "I cannot"; but awakens in the love of Your mercy and the sweetness of Your grace, by which whoever is weak becomes strong, when through it he becomes conscious of his own weakness. And good people delight to hear of the past evils of those who are now freed from them — not because they are evils, but because they were and are no more.
With what fruit, then, O Lord my God, do I confess to others in Your presence not what I have been, but what I now am? These are Your servants, my brothers, whom You will to be Your sons; my masters, whom You command me to serve. I am a little one, but my Father lives forever, and my Guardian is sufficient for me. For He is the same who fathered me and defends me; and You Yourself are all my good — You, Almighty, who are with me even before I am with You.
The Vast Palace of Memory
What then do I love, when I love my God? I will pass beyond that power by which I am united to my body and fill its frame with life. I will pass beyond the power of sensation, which the horse and mule also have. I will pass then beyond these, rising by steps toward Him who made me.
And I come to the fields and spacious palaces of my memory, where lie the treasures of countless images, brought in from things of every kind perceived by the senses. There is stored up whatever we think — either by enlarging or shrinking or in any other way varying those things which the senses have encountered; and whatever else has been entrusted to it and laid away, which forgetfulness has not yet swallowed up and buried.
When I enter there, I summon whatever I wish to appear, and some things come at once; others must be sought longer, fetched as it were from some more remote storage; others rush out in troops, and while one thing is asked for, they leap forward as if to say, "Is it perhaps me?" These I brush away with the hand of my heart, from the face of my remembrance, until what I want is found and comes into view from its hiding place.
Great is this power of memory — exceedingly great, O my God! A vast and boundless chamber! Who has ever sounded its depths? Yet it is a power of mine, and belongs to my nature; and I do not myself comprehend all that I am. Therefore the mind is too narrow to contain itself. But where can that part of it be which it does not contain? A wonderful amazement seizes me; astonishment takes hold of me.
And people go out to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty waves of the sea, the broad currents of rivers, the vastness of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars — and they pass themselves by.1
Where Do I Find You?
I will pass even beyond this power of mine called memory — yes, I will pass beyond it, that I may approach You, O sweet Light. Where shall I find You? If I find You outside my memory, then I do not remember You. And how shall I find You, if I do not remember You?
How then do I seek You, O Lord? For when I seek You, my God, I seek a blessed life. I will seek You, that my soul may live. For my body lives by my soul; and my soul lives by You. How then do I seek a blessed life? For all desire it — all desire to be happy. Where have they known it, that they want it so? We hear the name, and we all confess that we desire the thing. A blessed life is joy in the truth: for this is a rejoicing in You, who are the Truth, O God, my light, health of my countenance, my God. This blessed life which all desire — to rejoice in the truth — all desire it.
I have met many who would deceive; but who would be deceived, no one. Where then did they know this blessed life, unless where they know the truth also? For they love it too, since they would not be deceived. And when they love a blessed life — which is nothing other than rejoicing in the truth — then they love the truth also. They love truth when she shines light upon them; they hate her when she shines light upon them. For since they would not be deceived, and yet would deceive, they love truth when she reveals herself to them, and hate her when she reveals them.
For there is yet a little light in people. Let them walk, let them walk, that the darkness may not overtake them.
See what a space I have traversed in my memory, seeking You, O Lord; and I have not found You outside of it. Nor have I found anything concerning You except what I have held in memory ever since I learned You. For since I first learned You, I have not forgotten You. Where I found Truth, there I found my God, the Truth itself; which since I learned, I have not forgotten. Since then I learned You, You dwell in my memory; and there I find You when I call You to remembrance, and delight in You.
Too Late Have I Loved You
Too late have I loved You, O Beauty so ancient and so new — too late have I loved You! And behold, You were within, and I was outside, and there I searched for You. Deformed, I plunged amid those fair forms which You had made. You were with me, but I was not with You. Things held me far from You — things which, unless they were in You, would not exist at all.2
You called, and shouted, and burst through my deafness. You flashed, You shone, and You scattered my blindness. You breathed fragrance, and I drew in breath — and now I pant for You. I tasted, and now I hunger and thirst. You touched me, and I burned for Your peace.
When I shall with my whole self cling to You, I shall nowhere have sorrow or labor; and my life shall wholly live, as wholly full of You. But now, since whomever You fill, You lift up, and because I am not yet full of You, I am a burden to myself. Sorrowful joys struggle with joyful sorrows; and on which side the victory lies, I do not know. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me. I do not hide my wounds; You are the Physician, I the sick; You are merciful, I am miserable.
Is not the life of man upon earth all trial?
Give What You Command
And all my hope is nowhere but in Your exceedingly great mercy. Give what You command, and command what You will. You command us to be continent. And when I knew, says one, "that no one can be continent unless God gives it, this also was a part of wisdom, to know whose gift it is" (Wisdom 8:21). By continence we are gathered together and brought back into the One, from whom we were scattered into the many. For too little does he love You, who loves anything together with You, which he does not love for Your sake.
The Threefold Temptation
Placed amid the temptations of daily life, I struggle against desire in eating and drinking. For this is not something I can cut off once for all, as I could with sexual sin. The bridle of the throat must be held balanced between too loose and too tight. And who is there, O Lord, who is not sometimes carried a little beyond the limits of necessity?
The delights of the ear had more firmly entangled me; but You loosened and freed me. Now, in those melodies through which Your words breathe life, when sung with a sweet and skilled voice, I do find a little rest. Yet not so as to be held fast — I can free myself when I wish. But I confess that at times I am more moved by the singing than by the thing that is sung; and then I feel that I have sinned. At other times, guarding too anxiously against this very deception, I err in the other direction — sometimes wishing that all the melodies of the sweet music used in the Psalms were banished from my ears. Yet when I remember the tears I shed at the singing of Your church in the early days of my recovered faith, and how even now I am moved — not by the singing but by the things sung, when they are sung with a clear voice and fitting melody — I recognize the great benefit of this practice.
There remains the pleasure of the eyes. The eyes love beautiful and varied forms, and bright and soft colors. Let these things not possess my soul; let God possess it, who made these things — very good indeed, yet He is my good, not they. And there is another form of temptation, more complex in its danger — a certain vain curiosity, dignified with the names of knowledge and learning, which consists in the desire not to delight in the flesh, but to gain new experiences through the flesh. And there is the temptation of pride — the love of being feared and loved by people, for no other reason than the joy derived from it, which is no true joy.
In all these and similar dangers and labors, You see the trembling of my heart; and I feel my wounds being healed by You rather than not being inflicted by me.
The True Mediator
How have You loved us, good Father, who did not spare Your only Son, but delivered Him up for us who are ungodly! How have You loved us, for whom He who thought it not robbery to be equal with You was made subject even to the death of the cross! He alone, free among the dead, having power to lay down His life and power to take it again. For us He was to You both Victor and Victim — and therefore Victor, because Victim. For us, to You, both Priest and Sacrifice — and therefore Priest, because Sacrifice — making us, from servants, sons, by being born of You and serving us.3
Well then is my hope strong in Him, that You will heal all my weaknesses — through Him who sits at Your right hand and makes intercession for us. Otherwise I would despair. For many and great are my weaknesses — many they are, and great. But Your medicine is greater.
See, Lord, I cast my care upon You, that I may live, and consider wondrous things out of Your law. You know my lack of skill and my weakness; teach me, and heal me. He, Your only Son, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, has redeemed me with His blood. Let not the proud speak evil of me, because I meditate on my ransom — and eat and drink and share it — and, poor as I am, desire to be satisfied from Him, among those who eat and are satisfied; "and they shall praise the LORD who seek Him" (Psalm 22:26).
Footnotes
1 "And people go out to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty waves of the sea, the broad currents of rivers, the vastness of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars — and they pass themselves by." One of the most quoted observations in the Confessions. We marvel at creation but do not marvel at the mind that can contain it all. The palace of memory is more astonishing than the Alps.
2 "Too late have I loved You, O Beauty so ancient and so new — too late have I loved You!" The most famous passage in the Confessions, and perhaps the most beautiful paragraph Augustine ever wrote. Five senses — hearing, sight, smell, taste, touch — each one a way God broke through. "You called and burst through my deafness. You flashed and scattered my blindness. You breathed and I pant for You. I tasted and I hunger. You touched me and I burned." The whole history of a conversion in six sentences.
3 "For us He was to You both Victor and Victim — and therefore Victor, because Victim. For us, both Priest and Sacrifice — and therefore Priest, because Sacrifice." Christ conquers by being conquered. He offers by being offered. The paradox is the heart of the Gospel: the victory is the cross. The power is the weakness. This is why Augustine can say, "Your medicine is greater" — because the Physician healed by being wounded Himself.