In narrating the various providential dispensations and instrumentalities, which resulted in the spiritual renovation of Madame Guyon, we cannot well avoid noticing how much it costs to bring a soul to the knowledge of God.
This recital of instrumentalities and influences does not; as I suppose, present anything peculiarly new; — anything which does not occur in many other cases. The human mind is so wedded to its natural perverseness, that, generally speaking, it is not brought into harmony with God at once. Even those conversions, which appear to be especially prompt and sudden, have in many cases been preceded by a long preparatory training, which is not the less real, because it has been unseen and unknown. Generally speaking, we see efforts frequently renewed, resolves made and resolves broken, alternations of penitential tears and of worldly joys, advice and warning received to-day and rejected to-morrow, and very frequently a long series of disappointments and sorrows, before the mind is so humbled and instructed, as to renounce its earthly hopes, and to possess all things in God by becoming nothing in itself. But this state of things, which so frequently happens, and which is really so afflicting, teaches us the lesson of patience and of hope. Tears may have been wiped away, and resolutions may have been broken; and yet those tears, which seemed to have been in vain, and those resolutions which seemed to have been worse than in vain, may have been important and even indispensable links in the chain of providential occurrences. We repeat, therefore, that conversions long delayed, although they are calculated to try and purify our patience, ought not to extinguish our hope. "In due season we shall reap, if we faint not."
— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 6.