183. Our rust is wantonness, our rust is lust, our rust is luxury, which dim the keen vision of the mind with the filth of vices. Again, our moth is Arius, our moth is Photinus, who rend the holy vesture of the Church with their impiety, and desiring to separate the indivisible unity of the divine power, gnaw the precious veil of faith with sacrilegious tooth. The water is spilt if Arius has imprinted his tooth, it flows away if Photinus has planted his sting in any one’s vessel. We are but of common clay, we quickly feel vices. But no one says to the potter, “Why hast Thou made me thus?” For though our vessel be but common, yet one is in honour, another in dishonour. Do not then lay open thy pool, dig not with vices and crimes, lest any one say: “He hath opened a pool and digged it, and is fallen into the pit which he made.”