De Contritione Cordis

A single book on the contrition of the heart. Chapter One. That compunction arises from consideration. Consideration of the benefits of God. On the calling to the Christian faith. Nothing is more certain than death, nothing more uncertain than the hour of death. Let us therefore think how brief our life is, how slippery the path, how certain death is and how uncertain the hour of death. Let us think with how many bitternesses is mixed whatever sweet or pleasant thing in the journey of this life allures us by its encounter; how deceitful and suspect, how unstable and transitory is whatever the love of this world brings forth, whatever beauty or temporal loveliness promises. Let us also consider what is the sweetness or delight of the heavenly fatherland; and let us attend and weigh from what we have fallen, and where we lie, what we have lost, and what we have found: so that from both we may understand how much we ought to mourn in this exile. For thus Solomon says, "He who adds knowledge adds also sorrow" (Ecclesiastes 1:18): because the more a man understands his own evils, the more he sighs and groans. For meditation begets knowledge, knowledge begets compunction, compunction begets devotion, devotion commends prayer. By assiduous meditation a man is illuminated to the knowledge of himself; in compunction, from consideration of his own evils, the heart is touched with inner grief.

Wretched me, how much ought I to love my God, who made me when I was not, and redeemed me when I had perished? I was not, and from nothing He made me—not a tree, not a bird, not any of the animals; but He willed me to be a human being, gave me to live, to feel, to discern. I had perished, and the immortal descended to the mortal; He underwent passion, He underwent death and conquered, and thus He restored me: thus His grace and His mercy have always gone before me. From many dangers also my liberator has often delivered me. When I was wandering, He led me back; when I was ignorant, He taught me; when I was sinning, He reproved me; when I was sad, He consoled me; when I was despairing, He strengthened me; when I fell, He raised me up; when I stood, He held me; when I went, He guided me; when I came, He received me. These and many other things my God has done for me, of which it will be sweet for me always to speak, always to think, always to give thanks: so that for all His benefits I may be able to praise and love Him. For all these things I have nothing to repay Him, except only to love: for nothing better nor more fitting can be repaid, through love, than what was given through love.

Consider, O man, what you were, and what has been made of you; and think how worthy of love is the one who did these things for you. Look upon your need and his goodness; and see what thanks you render, and how much you owe to his honor. In darkness, on slippery ground, in descent over the irretrievable chaos of hell, an immense and almost leaden weight hanging from your neck was dragging you downward, and an unbearable burden was pressing you from above. Invisible enemies were driving you with all their might. Thus you were without any help; and you did not know that you had been conceived and born in this way. I was in darkness, because I knew nothing, not even myself; on slippery ground, because I was weak for the fall into sin. I was in descent, because over the chaos of hell the weight of original sin was pressing me downward, and my enemies the demons, to make me more damnable by other sins, were vehemently pressing on. Thus, when I was destitute of all help, you shone upon me, my God; you showed the lead dragging and the burden weighing down, and you repelled the enemies driving me: because you removed the sin in which I was born and conceived, and the damnation; and you forbade the evil spirits to do violence to my soul. You caused me to be called a Christian from your name, through which I both confess, and you recognize me among your redeemed. You raised and lifted me to your knowledge and love; you made me trust in the salvation of my soul, for which you gave your soul, and you promised me your glory if I would follow you.

have repaid, and how much you still owe. And behold, though I have not yet followed you as you advised, but on the contrary have committed many sins which you forbade, you still wait for me to follow, and you give what you promised. Chapter II. That we owe God everything and more. A petition of love. Consider, my soul, attend, all my inmost parts, how much my whole substance owes him. Certainly, Lord, because you made me, I owe you my whole self; indeed, I owe your love more than myself, as much as you are greater than I, for whom you gave yourself, promised yourself. Make me, I pray you, Lord, taste through love what I taste through knowledge; let me feel through affection what I feel through intellect. I owe you more than my whole self; I have nothing more, nor can I render this very thing that I have, through myself entirely. Draw me, Lord, into your love; and this whole that I am is yours by condition, by the work of love. Behold, Lord, before you is my heart; it strives to approach you, but by itself it cannot; do you what it itself cannot. Admit me into the chamber of your love, I ask, I seek, I knock. You who make me ask, make me receive; you give me to seek, give me to find; you teach me to knock, open to the one who knocks. To whom do you give, if you deny the one who asks? Who finds, if the seeker is frustrated? To whom do you open, if you close to the one who knocks? What do you give to the one who does not pray, if you deny your love to the one who prays? From you I must obtain, I wish to cling my soul to you.

Good Lord, my soul languishes with hunger for love of you; refresh it. Let your love heal it, let your affection nourish it, let your love fill it, let it occupy me wholly and possess me entirely. I know, Lord, I know and confess, that I am not worthy that you should love me; but certainly you are not unworthy of the service of your creature. Therefore give me, Lord, that by which you are worthy; and I shall be worthy of that by which I am unworthy. Make me cease from sins, in whatever way you will, so that, as I ought, I may be able to serve you. Grant me so to keep, to guide, and to anoint my life, that I may sleep in peace and rest in you. Grant me in the end that sleep may receive me with rest, rest with security, security with eternity. Amen. CHAPTER III. Desire for God. Lord Jesus Christ, my redeemer, my mercy, my salvation, I praise you, I give thanks to you. Your goodness, Lord, created me; your mercy cleansed me from original sin; your patience, after that cleansing, has until now tolerated, nourished, and waited for me, rolled in the filth of other sins. Lord my God, my creator, my helper, I thirst for you, I hunger for you, I desire you, I sigh for you, I long for you. Most kind, most sweet, most serene one, I want you, I seek you, I hope for you.

My soul refuses to be comforted except by you, my sweetness. Come now, Lord, appear to me, and I shall be comforted; show me your face, and I shall be saved; present your presence, and my desire shall be fulfilled; reveal your glory, and my joy shall be perfected. My soul has thirsted for you—how manifoldly my flesh [thirsts] for you (Ps. 62:2). When will you come, my comforter, whom I await? When shall I see my joy, which I long for? When shall I be sated when his glory appears (Ps. 16:15), which I hunger for? When shall I be inebriated from the abundance of your house, for which I sigh? When shall you water me from the torrent of your delight (Ps. 35:9), which I thirst for? Give me, Lord, in this exile the bread of sorrow and tears, which I hunger for above all abundance of delights. Let my tears be, Lord, in the meantime my bread day and night, until it is said to me, "Behold your God" (Ps. 41:4); until I hear, "Behold your bridegroom." Feed me, Lord, in the meantime with my sobs, revive me with my sorrows.

CHAPTER IV. The Misery of a Wicked Conscience. Humble Confession. The Foulness and Fruit of Sin. My God, what have I made of myself? What was I? God, what did you make me, and what have I made of myself again? For I was conceived and born in sins, and you cleansed me; you sanctified me, and I have defiled myself with worse sins. I was then in necessary things born; now I am wallowing in voluntary ones. Woe is me, wretched and all too wretched! For wretched is he whom his own conscience torments, which he cannot flee! For all too wretched is he whom his own damnation awaits, which he cannot avoid! Too unhappy is he who is horrible to himself; too much more unhappy is he to whom eternal death will be perceptible. Too miserable is he whom continual horror of his own unhappiness terrifies; too much more miserable is he whom eternal pains for his iniquity will torment. This evil, and this evil; but this too much, and this too much. How bitter and evil a thing is sin! Sins, how easy an entrance, how difficult an exit you have! While you persuade, you anoint; after you have persuaded, you sting unto the death of the soul: sinners whom you lead in, into what do you enclose them as if into wineskins? Understand, because it is evil and bitter to leave God, who returns to sins, and do not wish to sin; do not, I say, do not. Truly it is evil and bitter: I have experienced it, I am in this very thing. For either continual pains will torment my penitent life, or eternal torments will vex my soul to be punished.

It is certainly evil and bitter, both of them; free me from each. My soul, before all things and as a mother of virtues I warn you, beware lest in the recollections of your evils you fall into some snares of the devil, which many incautious people fall into, who, when they recall their evils as if weeping for them before the mind's eye, through those same recollections unwisely fall into the delights of those evils. More often also, when I begin to speak with someone without any cause of usefulness, I immediately fall into detraction, or I swear imprudently about something, or I succumb to the vice of idle curiosity, or I endure the foulness of evil thoughts, illicit and impure motions in my very inmost self. Alas for such unhappiness, such ruin! For when, forgetting what is behind me, I wish to extend myself to what is before me, I see myself suddenly cast back by some unknown misery to empty and harmful things: and like a sudden death intervening, or like a rabid dog which, even when struck, does not restrain itself from tearing a man, carnal delight pierces my mind: and instead of the sweet fragrance of virtues, I perceive the intolerable and most foul stench of my inner vices. I confess, most sweet Lord Jesus, and I lay open before you all my iniquities which I endure within my soul; these my evils are eleven, namely, anger, impatience.

hatred, enemy of God and odious to all the saints, discord, indignation, rancor of the soul, weariness of mind, gluttony, murmuring, desire for pleasure, delight of the flesh, tempest of lust; and many other such things, by which my unhappy soul is vexed and afflicted, lacerated and torn apart. O how much more tolerably a putrid dog stinks to men than a sinful soul stinks to God! How much more wretched is that soul to God than the dog is to men! My soul, unfruitful tree, where are your fruits? Such a tree is worthy of the axe and fire, worthy to be cut down and burned (Matthew 3:10). What are your fruits? Surely, sharp thorns and bitter sins: would that they might pierce you in your repentance so as to wound you; would that they might become so bitter as to vanish. Perhaps you think some sin is a small thing. But alas! does not every sin dishonor God through transgression? Therefore, what dishonors God, how wicked is it? Will the sinner then dare to consider any sin small? Good Lord Jesus, why did you come from heaven? What did you do for the world? For what purpose did you give yourself to death? Except to save sinners, of whom I am the greatest.

Chapter V. The Imploration of Divine Mercy. The Enemy of Man. Therefore, breathe, sinner, breathe, do not despair: hope in the one whom you fear, flee to the one from whom you fled, invoke importunately the one whom you proudly provoked. Jesus, on account of your name, do for me according to your name. Jesus, forget the proud provocateur, look upon the wretched one invoking the sweet name, the delightful name, the name that comforts the sinner, and the name of blessed hope. For what is Jesus, if not Savior? Therefore, for your own sake, be Jesus to me, be a kind savior to me. Do not, Lord, do not so regard my evil that you forget your goodness, good Lord: and if I have committed that for which you can condemn me, have you then lost that by which you are accustomed to save? For if I have lost my chastity, have I then destroyed your mercy? It is true, my conscience deserves condemnation, and my penance is not sufficient for satisfaction; but it is certain that your mercy surpasses every offense. Therefore, spare me, Lord, who are salvation; and you who do not desire the death of the sinner, have mercy on my sinful soul, loose its bonds, heal its wounds.

Behold, merciful Lord, I lay before you my soul, loosened from the sinews of virtues, bound by the chains of vices, weighed down by the burden of sins, befouled by the filth of offenses, torn by the wounds of demons, rotten and stinking with the ulcers of crimes: overwhelmed, oppressed, surrounded, enveloped by these and other grave evils, which you see better than I, destitute of the relief of all good things. Behold how great a misery constrains me: come to my aid, succor me, O universal mercy! Alas, wretch, alas wretch, always and everywhere a wretch. How great is the captivity of wretched man! If a man lives wickedly, damnation is open; if he seems to live discreetly, but guarding himself incautiously he boasts of it, it is true for the wretch: certain death and eternal damnation. These are the inner enemies of man: pride, envy, vainglory, which contaminate and infest the unhappy one; and unless God's mercy protects him, he is wounded again and again even unto death. Free me, Lord, from these my enemies, from whom I am unable to free myself. For my heart is perverse and most evil: for bewailing my perpetrated sins it is stony and dry, for resisting present temptations it is soft and pliable, for dealing with useless and harmful things it is swift and indefatigable, for contemplating salutary things it is disdainful and immobile. My soul, distorted and depraved, is all too easy and ready for precipitating and wallowing in vices; for recalling salvation it is all too difficult and sluggish.

It is a long task to enumerate each one: gluttony, drowsiness, levity, impatience, vainglory, detraction, disobedience, and the other base things by which my unhappy soul is made a daily mockery, by which it is distracted, trampled, and destroyed. Free it, Lord, rescue me overwhelmed by the mass of sins; loose me bound by the ropes of offenses, extricate me entangled in crimes, raise me up lying prostrate, support me tottering, equip me with spiritual arms, me unarmed in virtues, cover and protect me fighting, overcome the one attacking me. Jesus, see my humility and my labor, and forgive all my offenses. Be my helper, do not abandon me, nor despise me; but teach me to do your will. Let my soul bear witness to what my mouth willingly confesses. Help me, Lord, pious, kind, and clement beyond what I can think: that I may feel this no less than I presume to hope. CHAPTER VI. The Dangers of the Sinner. My sins, you are too great, you are too many! Judge, terribly strict, unequally severe, immoderately offended, vehemently angry, of immutable sentence, an inescapable prison, torments without intermission, without respite, horrible torturers who never grow weary, never take pity; fear confounds the accused, conscience confuses, thoughts rebuke: it is not permitted to flee. Behold in what danger I incessantly stand: except that I do not always think of this; but I am the more wretched and miserable because I can forget.

God always sees me and my sins, always the strict sentence is announced to me, always hell is open and torments prepared, always invisible ambushers are ready to snatch my wretched soul away there. Thus I am when I am awake, thus I am when I sleep, thus I am when I laugh, thus I am when I rejoice, thus I am when I am proud, thus I am when I detract, thus I am when I grow angry, thus I am when I am sad, thus I am when I embrace the miserable delights of the body! Finally, thus I am always and everywhere. Woe is me, wretched, and where am I, and where am I not, who know not where I am safe? CHAPTER VII. The bonds, prison, and darkness of sins. Woe is me, miserable, what shall I do? Alas, for how long my mind has languished, with what stupor my heart has been hardened, with what torpor my soul is blocked up! What is it that so hinders me? what is it that so weighs down my neck? My soul wishes, Lord, it wishes to raise its face to you, and it is burdened, weighed down by a leaden weight; it tries to free itself, and is bound by iron chains; it attempts to go out, and is shut in a bronze prison; it desires to direct its gaze toward you, and is darkened by murky shadows. What are these things, my God, that so darken and weigh down, shut in and bind my soul? Perhaps these are my sins; nay, truly these are my sins, certainly these they are.

The carnal affection has dulled in me the taste of spiritual things; the intention for lower things has bent my soul away from the sight of higher things; the love of earthly things has extinguished in me the delight of heavenly things; the practice of vices has emptied in me the sense of true gifts. From these gifts I am removed, in these evils I am entangled; shut off from those, shut in with these; fallen from those, wrapped up in these. Hence that prison and those chains, hence those shadows and those weights. Woe is me, because the day of wrath is near, it is near, I say! It comes unknown suddenly, and perhaps it will be today. CHAPTER VIII. That the sinner is a seeing blind man. My sins, were you then so harmless in the future, when you were soothing my soul with your sweetness, when you were anointing my heart with your sweetness? Why did you hide these things from me, and why did you betray me? Nay, you did not betray me; but I betrayed myself, who trusted you. You did not deceive me, but I deceived myself, who received you within me. Alas! why did I give credence to you? why did I trust you? Nay, I did not have faith nor did I trust you; but in some horrible way, a seeing blind man, I betrayed myself to you: seeing, indeed, because I knew you, and what evils follow you, I knew; blind, indeed, because I did not guard against you. Alas, sin, how horrible! how detestable! comparable to no evil! The blind man does not see the pit into which he falls, the madman thinks he ought to do what he does; he who willingly commits sin, seeing and knowing, betrays himself to the precipice.

Death and any torments whatsoever are only torments, and in themselves they do not possess ugliness, because they are ordered; sin has its ugliness in itself, and in itself it draws eternal unhappiness. For it was better to choose a torment which by itself does not attract eternal ugliness, than sin which joins its own ugliness with eternal pains. And certainly, O wretched man, the ugliness of sin alone is more to be condemned than any enormity of torments. Indeed, in sinning, with the foulest perversity you set yourself above your Creator, than which nothing is more unjust; in enduring the torments of sinners, with the most beautiful order creation submits itself to its maker, than which nothing is more just. O man, where has your humanity vanished? where has your reason gone? You had learned that he who commits sin is a slave of sin (John 8:34); and you committed sin. Unheard-of madness, to sin knowingly! You knew that you are a spirit going and not returning (Psalm 77:39); and you cast yourself into the bottomless abyss of sin from which there is no return.

CHAPTER IX. On the Threefold Abyss. Truly, my sins are an abyss; for they are incomprehensible in weight and depth, and inestimable in number and immensity. Abyss calls upon abyss! My sins, and also the torments by which you preserve me, are an abyss, because they are infinite and utterly incomprehensible. There is also a third abyss, and it is exceedingly terrible: the abyss of the judgments of God, which is many (Psalm 35:7); for it is hidden beyond human understanding. Woe upon woe, fear upon fear, sorrow upon sorrow. Abyss calls upon abyss in the voice of the cataracts of God (Psalm 41:8); for the abyss of sin merits the abyss of torments, which the judgments of God pronounce. The abyss of God’s judgments is above me, the abyss of hell is beneath me, the abyss of sins is within me. I fear that the one which overhangs me may rush upon me and overwhelm me together with my abyss into that which lies open beneath me: where torments will never blot out sins, but sins will hold torments over me. Wretch that I am, against whom have I sinned? Whither have I gone from your Spirit, and whither have I fled from your face? Surely, even if I wickedly fled from you and hid myself in my damnable abyss, even there you see me. For who but you moved my soul to repentance? Well done, Lord: you knocked and roused it in the abyss of its sins as if in a bed of sleep; you shook the sluggish, you stirred the negligent, you made penitent one who rejoiced, and sorrowful one who took delight. Good God, how great are these things you have done in the abyss.

Hear, then, one crying from the abyss. From you, most kind one, I do not hide my sins; before you I do not defend them, but show them; I do not excuse them, but accuse them. I am the guilty one; I myself am my own accuser. Do not accuse me, who made me. I alone sufficed for sinning; I alone shall suffice for accusing, I alone for doing penance. CHAPTER X. The Penitent's Affection. But whence, my God, the correction of such great crimes, whence to you the satisfaction for such great wickednesses? Hurl, then, wretched little man, yourself into the depth of immoderate sadness, who have voluntarily hurled yourself into the abyss of horrible wickedness. Overwhelm, unhappy one, yourself with the mass of terrible grief, who willingly fell into the mire of infernal stench. Envelop, wretched one, yourself again willingly in the dreadful darkness of inconsolable mourning, who willingly rolled in the abyss of such foul filth. Wallow in the whirlpool of bitterness, who delighted in the wallow of turpitude. Horrible terror, terrible pain, inconsolable sorrow, gather yourselves upon me, rush in, overwhelm, disturb, envelop, possess. It is just, it is just, torture the guilty one, avenge God. Let him anticipate the torments of hell which he has merited, let him taste beforehand what he has prepared, let him drink what he has nourished, let him grow accustomed to what he will suffer. Consolation, health, joy, I do not want you, unless the pardon of sin brings you back. Be far off before death, unless indulgence recalls you to me before death.

It is impossible for a sinner not to weep, either here or in the future. Let there be, therefore, continuous penance, a bitter companion of my life, a ceaseless grief, an insatiable torturer of my life. Let sorrow and bitter mourning be the indefatigable tormentors of my youth and my old age. Would that it were so; I pray and desire that it be so. For if I am not worthy to lift my eyes to heaven in prayer before you, Lord God, certainly I am not unworthy to blind them with weeping. If my mind is confounded by the shame of conscience, it is right that it be confounded by the whirlwind of sorrowful grief and sadness. He who fears to appear before the sight of the Lord his God, it is just that he have before his own sight the torments of his crime. Breathe, O sinner, breathe at last, and flee to the God whom you have offended: flee, I say, from the angry to the appeased. CHAPTER XI. Imploration of the Mercy of God. Remember, just and benign God, remember that you are merciful and my creator. If you are a judge to judge your guilty one, you are also a Lord to protect your servant, you are also a creator to preserve your work, you are also God to save your believing and baptized one? Do not, therefore, remember, good Lord, your justice alone against your sinner; but be mindful of your benignity towards your creature. Do not remember your wrath against the guilty one; but be mindful of your compassion towards the wretched one.

I know and confess that it is true: my conscience deserves damnation, and my penance is not enough to make satisfaction. Therefore spare me, good Lord, who are salvation, who do not desire the death of the sinner (Ezek. 33:11); spare my sinful soul, O God. I place my hope in you, and I entrust my soul to you. Guard it while I sleep, keep it while I do other things, and watch over it; remember it while I forget. I am a sinner, I am wretched; but I grieve that I have sinned, and I acknowledge that I am wretched. Merciful God, have mercy on me, a wretch. To sin is to dishonor God, which man ought not to do, even if everything that is not God were to perish. Woe is me, woe is me! I have sinned, I have dishonored God, I have provoked the Almighty. What have I done, what evils have I done? Woe to the evildoer, woe to the one who neglects the good! Woe, woe! Anger of the omnipotent God, do not rush down upon me. Anger of the omnipotent, where can you be contained in me? There is nothing in my whole being that can endure you. God, whose goodness is not exhausted, whose mercy is not emptied, whose knowledge does not fail, whose power accomplishes what it wills, how shall I be able to breathe, I who am forced to despair because of my sins? For even if you grow angry with those who sin, you are nevertheless accustomed to give kindly counsel to those who ask. Teach me, Lord, from where I ought to hope, so that I may be able to pray. For I wish to, but I cannot because of my ignorance, nor am I able because of the hardness of my flesh; I am forced to despair because of my iniquity.

I know and confess that it is true: I suffer deservedly what I willingly underwent; and I am justly not heard, because I did not obey. Yet, good Lord, I have sinned, I have erred: nevertheless I neither hate you nor detest your goodness. Therefore deal with me according to your mercy, who are blessed for ever and ever.