На болезни

You came to me again, treacherous one; and as far as is clear, he came in order to torment the depths of my heart within me. You want the sacred image in me to fall from the strong and repeated shocks of this life. You attacked strong flesh and relaxed me from head to toe, resolving the bonds of those juices with which God moistened the dry matter in me, just as, in His world-creating wisdom, He dissolved heat and cold, so that through balance the inextricable connection of the body was preserved, and from this I learned to escape discord in life. You came with murderous intentions and poured out all the poison of your bitter malice on poor me. It was not enough that I dragged through the burdensome old age and sorrow - this burden of the Thrinacre cliffs. I am further debilitated by a painful and devouring illness that, year after year, wears away my limbs. About this I cry and groan, like a mighty lion caught in the trapper’s net. I don’t like playful speeches, or pleasant conversations for everyone, even the most cheerful ones, or city markets, or groves, or baths, or all the flowers of this deceptive life. This was not attractive to me before, since I withdrew from earthly things and embraced Christ. I cry because the life-giving eye of the great Christ has turned away from me, Who once looked at me with care, destined me for glory even in the womb of an immaculate mother, and delivered me from the cold sea and from passions. I cry because I have overthrown the reins of the godly people; True, I didn’t reject them myself, but I don’t hold them in my hands. And this people first admired my speeches, when the Triple Radiance illuminated them from my lips. Just as a weaned baby, in the arms of the mother who gave birth, squeezes the dry nipple with greedy lips, and the mother does not satisfy his desire: so these people have now clung their ears to my lips, and thirst for the source that formerly flowed for many, but now does not give them even a small drop. Although others pour out sweet waters, yet the hearers mourn; because the word of their father was silent for them. Where are my all-night hymns, during which I, like an animated stone, unshakably planted my feet, either alone talking with Christ, or together with the people enjoying the sacred songs chanted alternately? Where is the pleasant weariness of kneeling, during which I shed hot tears and collected darkened thoughts? Where are the hands that fed the poor and served the sick? How exhausting the exhausted members are! I no longer raise my hands before pure sacrifices in order to partake of Christ’s great sufferings; I no longer compose images pleasing to the virtuous martyrs, and I do not honor their precious blood with words of praise. Mold lies on my books, my speeches are not finished; who will be so disposed towards me as to bring them to the end? Everything died while still alive; my life has become exhausted and has become weaker than a ship in which there are no connections. But however, no matter how much you pursue me, you annoying demon, I will never bow the knees of my heart to you. Not wounded, not deposed by you, I will go to my mother - the earth. Let the worm grind away the serpent's prey. Hit the skin, murderer, but the soul is not vulnerable. I will return to Christ the image of God that I received from Him. You once placed your bonds on the great Job: but you yourself were put to shame, and the great hero of heroism crowned him, made his victory glorious through His proclamation, and returned to him in double measure everything that you had stolen from him. This is the law of Christ's mercy! But command me, Christ, to finally become healthy! Your word is medicine for me. I am the new Lazarus among the dead; but say: rise up! and according to Your word the dead man will live. I am new, relaxed, motionless on my bed; but say: strengthen yourself! and I will go and carry the bed. I want to steal the healing power from Your shouts with my hands; stop the rapid flow of blood in the withered flesh! I, Your heritage, bow before You, like a Canaanite woman bowed in body; restore me, O King! The sea is agitated, but You rest in sweet sleep; but awaken immediately, and according to Your word the disturbance will subside. I lament; the disease will take hold of my members. For no one is completely excluded from the common fate of mortals, and I am just like everyone else. Thus God commands that none of us should raise our eyebrows high and consider ourselves celestial, but that everyone, looking at the help of the great God, should feel the need for a strong incentive to piety. However, I do not complain so much because of the illness: it also serves as some kind of cleansing for my spiritual part, and everyone has a need for cleansing, no matter how strong he is; because these very bonds convey to mortals a kind of blackness. But in my sorrows I am much more concerned about the faint-hearted; I am afraid that one of them will stumble, seeing my misfortunes. Not many people are strong-hearted, lovingly accept every visit from God, whether it is pleasant or sorrowful for them, and they know that there is a reason for everything, although it is hidden in the depths of God’s wisdom. On the contrary, many laugh at the pious when they are exhausted, and say that their service to God remains without any reward; or they even take root in the mind a completely unworthy thought, as if everything in the world worked out by chance, and it is not God, who reigns on high, who controls human affairs; otherwise, they say, a different order would prevail among us. Remember this, Great One, and help Your servant; don’t bring me to the shameful end of my life! I am Your servant, I lay my hands on Your Gifts and on the heads of those who themselves bow down and call me a helper in illness. Have mercy, Christ! If it does not please You to heal me; give me strength to endure great deeds! Do not deprive me of all honor, Word, but do not burden me either; do not leave him without a rein, but do not subject him to great suffering! Stab me with butts, O Blessed One, and not with a spear! Let my ship not be completely empty of cargo, but also not overly loaded, rushing along the sea of ​​life. Saturation makes you insolent, and sorrows plunge you into the darkness of the night. Balance punishment with safety! You stopped me from becoming proud; have pity on me who is exhausted! There is still time for mercy, O Just One! Exhausted by misfortunes sent from above, I respect my gray hair, and self-mortified members, and victims. But why excess? Can I prescribe laws to the Divine? Lead me, Your servant, Christ, wherever You please! You might be interested in: