2. Meditation and Prayer

There are two ways of introducing souls to prayer, which they may and ought to employ, for a certain time. One is Meditation, the other is Meditative Reading.

Meditative reading is nothing other than to take some weighty truths, which afford matter both for thought and practice—especially the latter—and to proceed in this manner: first, take such truth as you are pleased to choose, and read two or three lines of it in order that you may taste and digest them, endeavoring to draw out the juice or substance; and keep fixed to the place you are reading as long as you find any relish in it, not passing further so long as there be any taste left.

Then you must take as much again, and do just the same, not reading more than half a page at a time, for it is not so much the quantity of reading that is profitable, as it is the manner of reading. Those who read hurriedly cannot improve by what they read, any more than the bees can draw out the nectar of the flowers by flying over them without resting upon them. To read much is more appropriate for school-learning than for spiritual knowledge, but to really profit by the Scriptures and by spiritual books, they must be read in the manner described above. I am sure that any who do so will, by reading, gradually accustom themselves to prayer and become very much disposed to it.

The other help to prayer is Meditation, which is performed in a season set apart for it, and not in the time of reading. I think it would be good to enter upon it in this manner: after placing yourself in the presence of God by an act of loving faith, you must read something that is substantial and dwell upon it—not in order to reason, but only to settle your mind, remembering that the principal exercise ought to be the practice of the presence of God, and that the subject should serve more to stay your mind than to employ your reason. A living faith that God is present in the depths of our hearts compels us to sink down into ourselves, gathering all our senses and hindering them from being scattered abroad. This is a powerful means of ridding us of a multitude of distractions, and of removing us far from outward objects, that we may come unto God, who cannot be found except in the inward depths of our hearts and in our inner being, which is the Holy of Holies, where He dwells. Yes, He promises that if any man will do His will, He will come unto him and make His abode in him. John 14:21, 23. St. Augustine blames himself for the time he lost by not having first sought God after this manner.

When one has thus become introspective, thoroughly permeated by a living sense of the Divine presence in his inward being, when all his senses are gathered up and drawn from the circumference to the center (which indeed is somewhat painful in the beginning, but afterwards becomes most easy, as I shall show you later); when I say, the soul is thus drawn into itself, and when it is employed sweetly and gently by the truth it has read, not in reasoning upon it but in savoring and tasting it, and in exciting the will by affection rather than in applying the understanding by consideration—the affection being thus stirred up, we must leave it to rest sweetly and in peace, that it may swallow what it has tasted.

One could chew an excellent morsel, and indeed relish it; yet if he did not forbear a little of this motion, so as to swallow it down, he could not be nourished by it. So, in like manner, when the affection is stirred up, if we go on to stir it up yet more, we should extinguish its fire and thereby deprive the soul of its food; and therefore it must necessarily swallow what it has chewed and tasted, by a little repose full of respect and confidence. This method is most necessary, and will advance a soul more, in a short while, than any other is capable of doing in several years.

But, as I have stated, the principal exercise ought always to be to come into the Divine. This we ought to do with the utmost fidelity, recalling our senses whenever they begin to wander. This is a short and effectual way to combat all distractions. Opposing them directly only serves to irritate and increase them, whereas by sinking into oneself in the sight of God—who is ever present to faith—and simply withdrawing ourselves, we combat them indirectly—yet most effectively—without even thinking of them.

I likewise admonish all beginners not to run from one truth to another, or from one subject to another, but to keep to the same one as long as they find any relish in it. This is the way to penetrate the divine truths quickly, to have them impressed upon us and to enter into them.

It is difficult in the beginning to become introspective, due to the ingrown habit of dwelling wholly upon externals; but as the soul gradually becomes accustomed to withdrawing itself, through the violence it has done to itself, this becomes very easy—not only through acquired habit, but also because God, who seeks to communicate Himself to His creature, sends it such abundant grace and such a perceptible taste of His presence that it makes the habit easy and delightful.