Ep. VI.
(Written about the same time, in a more serious
vein.)
What I wrote before about our stay in Pontus was
in joke, not in earnest; what I write now is very much in
earnest. O that one would place me as in the month of those
former days,
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in which I
luxuriated with you in hard living; since voluntary pain is more
valuable than involuntary delight. O that one would give me back
those psalmodies
and
vigils and those sojournings with God in prayer, and that immaterial,
so to speak, and unbodied life. O for the intimacy and
one-souledness of the brethren who were by you divinized and
exalted: O for the contest and incitement of virtue which we
secured by written Rules and Canons; O for the loving labour in the
Divine Oracles, and the light we found in them by the guidance of the
Holy Ghost. Or, if I may speak of lesser and slighter matters, O
for the daily courses and experiences; O for the gatherings of wood,
and the cutting of stone; O for the golden plane-tree, more precious
than that of Xerxes, under which sat, not a King enfeebled by luxury,
but a Monk worn out by hard life, which I planted and Apollos (I mean
your honourable self) watered;
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but God gave the
increase to our honour, that a memorial might remain among you of my
diligence, as in the Ark we read and believe, did Aaron’s rod
that budded.
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To long for
all this is very easy, but it is not easy to attain it. But do
you come to me, and conspire with me in virtue, and co-operate with me,
and aid me by your prayers to keep the profit which we used to get
together, that I may not perish by little and little, like a shadow as
the day draws to its close. I would rather breathe you than the
air, and only live while I am with you, either actually in your
presence, or virtually by your likeness in your
absence.
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Job xxix. 2
.
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1 Cor. iii. 6
.
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Num. xvii. 8, 10
.