The Hidden Life (Rewritten)

There is a form of religious experience that can rightly be called The Hidden Life. When someone first becomes aware of their sin and, however imperfectly, puts their faith in Christ as a Savior, they truly begin a new life. Even if that faith feels weak or uncertain, it marks a real turning point.

But that new life is only a beginning. It carries within it the seed of something far greater — a restored and renewed existence that will, over time, grow into deeper understanding and stronger spiritual feeling. At first, though, it is still fragile. It struggles constantly with the old, natural way of living and often seems like little more than the faint light of dawn before the full day arrives.

Hinderances to Correct Judgment: The Pride of Human Intellect

One of the favorable effects of faith on the exercise of the judgment is, that it is adverse to the pride of human intellect. When we speak of faith in God, we mean God as he is; not a God who is dwindled down to the compass of man’s imagination, but God as he is; God illimitable, God omnipotent, God who reveals himself in every thing that is made, but who in every thing that is made indicates also that there is something not revealed, and something which cannot be revealed. The pride of human intellect cannot stand in the light of such a presence. The man of true religious faith, the man who has faith, not in the idol of his own imagination, but in God as he is, reverting from the Infinite Mind to his own mind, begins at once to feel that he has no intellectual strength, no true wisdom, no purity of love, and no foundation of hope, except what he derives from a divine source. “The most enlightened of men,” says Robert Hall, “have always been the first to perceive and acknowledge the remaining obscurity, which hung around them; just as, in the night, the further a light extends, the wider the surrounding sphere of darkness appears. Hence it has always been observed, that the most profound inquirers into nature have been the most modest and humble.

Subjection of the Will by Faith

How is this great work, the subjection of the will, to be effected? 

And the answer must be repeated, which has already been so often given, that it can be done, so far as we can perceive, only by the operations and influence of FAITH. 

And in saying this, it can hardly be necessary to add, that we do not mean to exclude personal effort, in whatever form of resolve or of action it can properly be made; although it is true, and always will remain true, that personal effort here, as elsewhere in the things of religion, will be unavailing without faith. And this is so truly and emphatically the case, that we cannot hesitate to speak of faith as the cause, and as the one great and preeminent cause of a result so desirable and glorious.It is obvious, in the first place, that the man, who has no faith in God, can see no reason, and in the actual state of his views and feelings he has no reason, so far as he himself is concerned, why he should subject his will to God’s will. To subject our wills is to subject ourselves. If God has the control of the will, he has the control of the man. And no man, no rational being whatever, could be expected to subject his will, and thus to subject himself, to another being, however exalted he might be supposed to be, without faith in such being. It would obviously be against nature. That is to say, it is something, which in our apprehension is naturally impossible.

The Divine Life

Oh, sacred union with the Perfect Mind!

Transcendent bliss, which Thou alone canst give!

How blest are they, this pearl of price who find,

And dead to earth have learnt in Thee to live.

Thus, in thine arms of love, Oh God, I lie,

Lost, and forever lost, to all but Thee.

My happy soul, since it hath learnt to die,

Hath found new life in thine Infinity.

Oh, go and learn this lesson of the Cross;

And tread the way which saints and prophets trod,

Who, counting life, and self, and all things loss,

Have found in inward death the life of God.

— Religious Maxims (1846).

The Love of God as Example

It is obvious, that love can never exist in any higher degree than in the Divine Mind; but it is certain that it never exists there in such a degree as to perplex, even to the smallest extent, the action of God’s percipient or intellectual nature. God loves deeply and perfectly, for the very reason that he perceives clearly and perfectly. To love an object, without a clear perception of the nature of the object and of its claims to love, would involve the hazard of loving imperfectly or wrongly; a risk which can never, by any possibility, exist on the part of a perfect and holy being. Now it must be obvious, that love, in those who bear the divine image, will sustain the same relation to other acts and affections of the mind, as it does in God. To be born in the divine image always implies this, and implies it in the real and strict sense. If we love like God, our love will operate by the same law, which regulates God’s love; that is to say, we shall love both in such a manner and such degree as to leave the intellect unembarrassed and clear in the perception and estimate of the character of the object and of its claims to our love. When, therefore, in the exercise of our benevolent affections, the actual affection exists in such a degree as to perplex the perceptive and intellectual action, and to render our appreciation of the merits or demerits of the object confused and doubtful, we may be certain that we are wrong, that we are jostled out of the true centre, and that we have not God with us.

 — from The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 7.

God Alone is the Proper Center of Human Love

God alone is the proper centre of love. God alone, in consequence of the exalted nature of his perfections, is the object, to which our highest affections can properly attach themselves. If God is not loved supremely, something else is, because the nature of love is such as to require some highest object. And if God is the centre, (an expression, which implies, that our love is essentially, if not absolutely proportioned to its object,) then he is so in such a degree and manner, that all other beings are regarded and loved in their relation to him. Being not only the highest or supreme object, but being so beyond any and all comparison with other objects, he is properly the centre of centres. Consequently, receiving all our springs of action from him, as the great object of our affections, we shall regard objects, so far as we are capable of understanding their nature, just as he regards them; we shall love what he loves; hate what he hates; rejoice in what he rejoices in.

The moment we get into this great and true Centre, every thing else falls into the right position. We love ourselves, and we love other beings just as God would have us; for we can neither approve nor disapprove, neither love nor hate, except as we receive the spring of movement from the great source. In any other position of mind, the influence of self will be felt. But in this, as the mind operates in perfect coincidence with the will of God, a will which never deviates from perfect rectitude, it can give no countenance to selfishness, which is always at variance with rectitude. 

The life of God in the soul and the life of self in the soul are entirely inconsistent with each other. Where God exists, as the supreme object, self is, and must be cast out. Sensuality ceases. All our appetites, and all our propensities and affections of whatever degree will, in that case, be properly regulated. And the grace of sanctification or holiness will pervade the whole inner man.

—The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 4.

 

We Do Not Need to Escape the World

It is not necessary that we should retire from the world, as if we were unequal to the contest which presents itself. It is not necessary, after the manner of some devout persons of other ages, to shut ourselves up in cloisters or to seek some solitary cave of the desert, in order to gain the victory: Mingling in the world, in the midst of our families, in the discharge of the ordinary duties of life, it will be with us according to our faith. 

We may have God with us, if we have faith to have him with us. And having God with us, who is ready to bear the banner and fight the battles of those who trust in him, we are enabled here, and are enabled every where, in the market and the forum as well as in the solitary place, in our workshops, amid our farms and our merchandize, in seasons of joy and of sorrow, to keep our hitherto rebellious tendencies in subjection. The injunction of the Apostle becomes a practical reality. “Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.”

 — The Life of Faith, Part 2, Chapter 3.

Unity and Duality in God

Of... the Unity of the divine Nature, we shall have but little comparatively to say, because it is a subject on which much has been ably written, and is one which to thinking and philosophic minds is but little short of self-evident. The argument on the subject is commonly and very justly drawn from the evidences of oneness of design in the multiplied objects of creation.

There is a foundation for the argument from creation, because creation implies the fact of a creator, and because, looking at these objects in the light of their logical relation, creation does not contain anything which did not antecedently exist in the ideas of the creating Mind, so that creation, existing in the universe of objects around us, may justly be regarded as the out-going, the reflex, or if it be preferred, the shadows of the Infinite. And accordingly what God is in the eternal principles of his nature, including his Unity, is written not merely in the messages of Prophets and Apostles, but in his out-goings, in the emanations of Himself which exist in the things that are made, in the great robe of created forms and life which hangs as a garment around the brightness of his essential being. And there, as we read in accordance with the laws of our mental beings the multiplied facts of emanated or created existence, which are expressions of the oneness of thought and plan that lie hidden in the Source or Centre from which they come, our convictions become harmonized and consolidated in a particular direction; and at last it is impossible for us to doubt the Unity of that great Creative Centre. We cannot dwell, nor do we feel it to be necessary, upon the specific processes of thought by which this is done. Nevertheless, UNITY is the first word in the divine alphabet; and Nature, speaking in her silent voices, and writing her record in the book of the Absolute Religion, harmonizes with the Scriptures in saying, God is ONE God.

Unbelief Seeks the Manifestation of God

Unbelief attaches itself to that, which is seen. Faith attaches itself to that, which is not seen. Accordingly those, who do not live by faith, must live by sight; that is to say, must live, not merely by what God is, but by what he manifests himself to be; not merely by the reality of God, which is one thing, but by the manifestation of God, so far as he can be comprehended by our limited faculties, which is another and a very different thing. And hence it is, that just in proportion as our faith is strong, we rest upon the reality of God, though clouds and darkness may be upon it. And just in proportion as our faith is weak, we desire a manifestation; something which we can see, something which we can touch. 

The Dangers of Requiring Specific Answers to Prayer

In connection with the doctrine which has been laid down, viz., that answers to prayers are to be received by faith, we proceed to make a few remarks which are naturally related to it.

And one is, that this doctrine is favorable to self-renunciation. The desire of definite and specific answers naturally reacts upon the inward nature and tends to keep alive the selfish or egotistical principle. On the contrary, the disposition to know only what God would have us know, and to leave the dearest objects of our hearts in the sublime keeping of the general and unspecific belief that God is now answering our prayers in his own time and way, and in the best manner, involves a present process of inward crucifixion, which is obviously unfavorable to the growth and even existence of the life of self.

God and Nothing

We conquer ill and all distress,
By sinking into Nothingness;
For in our Nothing we are such,
That nothing can our Nothing touch.

Our enemies their arms prepare;
They smite, but find us empty air;
For when we see the lifted rod,
We leave ourselves, and hide in God.

We always know which way to run,
And thus all threatening dangers shun;
In vain they seek; they cannot find
Our hiding place in God's great Mind.

And when they undertake to smite,
They find that God is in the fight;
And God and Nothing make them know
A great and sudden overthrow.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) LXXX.

The Ruler of the Nations

"The nations shall rush like the rushing of many waters; but God shall rebuke them, and they shall flee far off and shall be chased as the chaff of the mountains before the wind, and like a rolling thing before the whirlwind." — Is. 17.13.

There is a God, whose searching eye doth look
Into the hearts of private men and kings;
Who turns the nations, as the running brook,
And mighty empires to subjection brings.
If nations to his will and ways are given,
He binds them fast to his eternal throne,
But scatters, as the chaff by winds is driven,
Such as forget his laws, and such alone.
See Rome, with flags unfurled and eagles spread!
'Twas virtue made her powerful at first;
When virtue failed, and honor bowed its head,
An angry God did smite her to the dust,
Sheer from her seat of pride and empire hurl'd,
And made her thence the scorn and hissing of the world.

— The Religious Offering (1835) Scripture Sonnets XXIV.

Opposition in Her Family

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Reflections on her conversion — and the opposition that arose.

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Happy would it have been, if she had been exposed only to the ridicule and the opposition of those who were without. Among the members and relatives of her own family still less than ever, with the exception of her father, did she find any heart that corresponded fully to her own. It seems to have been the great object of her step-mother, who was exceedingly desirous to retain the influence over her son which she had exercised previous to his marriage, to weaken and destroy his affections for his wife. Her object was cruel as it was wicked, although she probably justified herself in it, from the fear that the benevolent disposition of Madame Guyon, both before and after experienc­ing religion, might result in a waste of the property of the family, if she should possess all that influence with her hus­band, to which such a wife was entitled. "My mother-in-law," she says, "persuaded my husband that I let everything go to wreck, and that, if she did not take care, he would be ruined." The step-mother's plan of alienating her son's affections from his wife, was seconded by the maid-servant, who has been mentioned,— a laborious and artful woman, who had rendered herself almost absolutely necessary to her master in those seasons of sickness and physical suffering of which he had a large share. The result of their combined efforts was, that he became unsettled and vacillating in his affections, — not constant in his love; sometimes and perhaps we may say, always, when separated from their influence. truly and even passionately affectionate; at other times, and more frequently, he was distrustful and cruel.

In this perplexed and conflicting state of mind, it is not surprising that we find his language and his conduct equally conflicting, equally inconsistent. Sometimes he speaks to her in the language of violence and abuse, sometimes in a relenting spirit and with affection. He was not pleased with the religious change which appeared in his wife. "My husband," she says, "was out of humor with my devotion; it became insupportable to him.  'What!' says he, 'you love God so much that you love me no longer.' So little did he comprehend that the true conjugal love is that which is regulated by religious sentiment, and which God himself forms in the heart that loves him."  At  other times, when left to his better nature, he insisted much on her being present with him; and frankly recognizing what he saw was very evident, he said to her,  "One sees plainly, that you never lose the presence of God." 

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon (1877) Volume 1, Chapter 8.

Opposition to Her New Faith

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Reflections on her conversion.

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Religion is the same in the Catholic and in the Protestant. I speak now of the substance, and not of the form; of the  internal and not of the external. Religion, so far as it is religion, is always the same; the same in all lands and in all ages; the same in its nature, the same in its results; always allied to angels and God, and always meeting with the opposition of that which is not angelic and is not God. It is not surprising, therefore, that Madame Guyon's new heart should meet with opposition from the world's old one.

When the world saw that I had quitted it, it persecuted me, and turned me into ridicule. I became the subject of its conversation, of its fabulous stories, and of its amusement. Given up to its irreligion and pleasures, it could not bear that a woman who was little more than twenty years of age, should thus make war against it, and overcome it.

Her age was not the only circumstance that was remembered. That youth should quit the world was something, but that wealth, intelligence, and beauty, combined with youth, in the same person, should quit it, was much more. On merely human principles it could not well be explained. Some were offended; some spoke of her as a person under some species of mental delusion; some attributed her conduct to stupidity, inquiring very significantly, "What can all this mean? This lady has the reputation of knowledge and talent. But we see nothing of it."

But God was with her. She relates that, about this time, she and her husband went into the country on some business. She did not leave her religion on leaving her home. The river Seine flowed near the place where they staid. "On the banks  of the river,"  she says, "finding a dry and solitary place, I sought intercourse with my God." Her husband had gone with her into the country; but he did not accompany her there. There is something impressive in this little incident. She went alone to the banks of the Seine, to the waters of the beautiful river, and into the dry and solitary place. It was indeed a solitary place; but can we say that she who went there, went alone? God was with her. God, who made the woods and the waters, and who, in the beginning, walked with his holy ones amid the trees of the garden. "The communications of Divine Love," she adds, "were unutterably sweet to my soul in that retirement." And thus, with God for her portion, she was happy in the loss of that portion which was taken away from her.

"Let the world despise and leave me;

They have left my Savior too;

Human hearts and looks deceive me

Thou art not, like them, untrue.

"Man may trouble and distress me,

'Twill but drive me to Thy breast;

Life with trials hard may press me;

Heaven will bring me sweeter rest."

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon (1877) Volume 1, Chapter 8.

She Now Sees God in All Things

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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Reflections of her conversion.

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Sustaining the relations of a wife, a mother, and a daughter, and seeing now more clearly into the ways and requisitions of Providence, she endeavored, from higher motives and in a better manner than ever before, to discharge the duties which she owed to her father, her husband, and her children. I speak of her duties to her children, because, previously to the time of which we are now speaking, God had been pleased to give her another son. The birth of her first son, — whom she frequently names as being made, through the perverting influence of her step-mother, a son of trial and sorrow, — has already been mentioned. The second son, who gave better promise both for himself and others, was born in 1667. We shall have occasion to recur to him again, although we have scarcely anything recorded of him, except the few painful incidents of his early death. These new and expanding relations furnished opportunities of duty and occasions of trial, which ceased from this time, at least in a great degree, to be met in the strength of worldly motives or in the arts of worldly wisdom. God, in whom alone she felt she could trust, became her wisdom and strength, as well as her consolation.

We may well and truly say, whatever allowance it may be necessary to make for human infirmity, that God was her portion. She could say with the Psalmist, "The Lord is my fortress and deliverer,— my strength in whom I will trust." The views, which she took of religious truth and duty, were of an elevated character, without being mixed and perverted, so far as we can perceive, with elements that are false and fanatical. It is true, that, even at this early period of her experience, the religious impulse, as if it had an instinctive conviction of the end to which it was tending, took a higher position than is ordinary, but without failing to be guided by the spirit of sound wisdom. If she was a woman, who both by nature and grace felt deeply, she was also a woman who thought dearly and strongly.

Among other things it is worthy of notice, that she distinctly recognized, not only intellectually, but, what is far more important, she recognized practically, that God orders and pervades our allotment in life; that God is in life, not in the mitigated and merely speculative sense of the term, but really and fully; not merely as a passive spectator, but as the inspiring impulse and soul of all that is not sin; in life, in all life, in all the situations and modifications of life, for joy or for sorrow, for good or for evil. The practical as well as speculative recognition of this principle, may be regarded as a sort of first  step towards a thorough walking with God. A heart, unsubdued, a heart in which worldly principles predominate, does not like to see God in all things, and tries unceasingly to shake off the yoke of divine providence. To the subdued heart, on the contrary,— to the heart, in which christian principles predominate, — that yoke always is, and of necessity always must be, just in proportion as such principles predominate, "the yoke which is easy and the burden which is light." Early did this Heaven-taught woman learn this. And she was willing to apply to her own situation, and to her own responsible relations, what she had thus learned.

It is one thing to have the charge of a family, and another to know and to feel, that this responsible position is the arrangement and the gift of Providence. Providence, whose eye is unerring, had placed her in that relation; and whatever cares or sorrows might attend her position, she felt that, as a woman and emphatically as a Christian woman, she must recognize it as the place which God had appointed, and as involving the sphere of duty which God had imposed.

— edited from The Life of Madame Guyon (1877) Volume 1, Chapter 8.

With What You Have, Obtain More

If we are so constituted, that we naturally and necessarily know something of God, it is still true, that we may know him more. If it is a conceded fact, that we know him in a small degree, it is equally true that we may also know him much. If we may know him as the God of nature, we may also know him as the God of the Bible, as the God of providence, as the God of the New Covenant, as the God of the promises. We may know him as our own God and Father, as ours in prosperity and adversity, as ours in life and death, as ours to-day, to-morrow, and forever.

But let us notice this in particular. The belief in God, which we have from nature, valuable as it undoubtedly is, has the effect merely to bring men under condemnation, unless it is followed by something further. And this is essentially true also of the incipient steps, the beginnings of a really gracious experience. On what principle, therefore, or in what way is it, that having but little light, whether it be the light of nature or the light of grace, we may reasonably expect to get more?

Faith Repels Contrary Suggestions

Faith implies the previous existence, in a greater or less degree, of perception and human reasoning. And such being the circumstances of its origin, it may properly be regarded as a principle or state of mind, entirely suitable to a reflecting and rational nature. But it ought to be remarked further, that, when faith, for its appropriate and adequate reasons, has attached itself to its appropriate objects, it does not allow itself to be driven from its position by any adverse suggestions, even when such suggestions are sustained by the imposing authority of thought and of deduction. This is particularly true of religious faith.

Faith Has Various Objects

Faith, in itself considered, is a very simple principle; but it possesses this peculiarity, a peculiarity which explains in part the great extent of its influence, that, on different occasions and under different circumstances, it may attach itself to any and every object; and consequently the sphere of its operations is very wide, perhaps we may say, as wide as the universe itself. And then there is this remark further to be made, that of all the various objects in this wide and unlimited sphere, it may make its selection, if we may so speak; that is to say, it may believe in many of them, or it may believe in a smaller number of them, or it may believe only in one of them; and it may also believe in that one, considered in one of its aspects and relations only, or as considered in many.

In religion, faith attaches itself to God as the primary object of belief. A belief in God, such a belief as issues in the soul’s renovation and salvation, involves undoubtedly the fact of other objects and other exercises of belief. It involves a belief in the mission of Jesus Christ. It involves a belief in the mission and operations of the Holy Ghost. God, nevertheless, is the primary object; the object to which all other belief tends, and in which it ultimately centers. But men may believe in God, in accordance with the remark just now made, considered in a part of his attributes and relations, or in the whole. They may believe in him, for instance, as the God merely of the natural creation; or they may believe in him as the God of events, the God of providence as well as of nature; or they may believe in him as the God of the Bible also.

— The Life of Faith, (1852) Part 1, Chapter 13.

The Stroke of a Dart

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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It  may be interesting to hear Madame Guyon state the effect of this conversation in her own words.

Having said these words, the Franciscan left me. They were to me like the stroke of a dart, which pierced my heart asunder.  I  felt at this instant deeply wounded with the love of God; — a wound so delightful, that I desired it never might be healed. These words brought into my heart what I  had been seeking so many years; or rather they made me discover what was there, and which I did not enjoy for want of knowing it. Oh my Lord! thou wast in my heart, and demanded only the turning of my mind inward, to make me feel thy presence. Oh, infinite Goodness! Thou wast so near, and I ran hither and thither seeking thee, and yet found thee not. My life was a burden to me, and my happiness was within myself. I was poor in the midst of riches, and ready to perish with hunger near a table plentifully spread and a continual feast. Oh Beauty; ancient and new! Why have I known thee so late? Alas, I sought thee where thou wast not, and did not seek thee where thou wast! It was for want of understanding these words of thy Gospel: 'The kingdom of God cometh not with observation, neither shall they say, Lo! here, or  lo!  there; for, behold, the kingdom of  God is within you.' This I now experienced, since thou didst become my King, and my heart thy kingdom, where thou dost reign a Sovereign, and dost all thy will.

I told this good man, that I did not know what he had done to me; that my heart was quite changed; that God was there; for from that moment he had given me an experience of his presence in my soul, — not merely as an object intellectually perceived by any application of mind, but as a thing really possessed after the sweetest manner. I experienced those words in the Canticles:  'Thy name is as precious ointment poured forth; therefore do the virgins love thee.' For  I felt in my soul an unction, which, as a salutary perfume, healed in a moment all my wounds. I slept not all that night, because thy love, oh my God! flowed in me like delicious oil, and burned as a fire which was going to destroy all that was left of self in an instant. I was all on a sudden so altered, that I was hardly to be known either by myself or others. I found no more those troublesome faults, or that reluctance to duty, which formerly characterized me. They all disappeared, as being consumed like chaff in a great fire.

I now became desirous that the instrument hereof might become my Director,  in preference to any other. This good father, however, could not readily resolve to charge himself with my conduct, though he saw so surprising a change effected by the hand of God. Several reasons induced him to excuse himself: first, my person, then my youth, for I was only twenty years of age; and lastly, a promise he had made to God, from a distrust of himself, never to take upon himself the direction of any of our sex, unless God, by some particular providence, should charge him therewith. Upon my earnest and repeated request to him to become my Director, he said he would pray to God thereupon, and bade me do so too. As he was at prayer, it was said to him, 'Fear not that charge; she is my spouse.' This, when I heard it, affected me greatly. 'What! (said I to myself,) a frightful monster of iniquity, who have done so much to offend my God, in abusing his favors, and requiting them with ingratitude, — and now, thus to be declared his spouse!’ After this he consented to my request.

Nothing was more easy to me now than to practice prayer. Hours passed away like moments, while I could hardly do anything else but pray. The fervency of my love allowed me no intermission. It was a prayer of re­joicing and of possession, wherein the taste of God was so great, so pure, unblended and uninterrupted, that it drew and absorbed the powers of the soul into a profound recollection, a state of confiding and affectionate rest in God, existing without intellectual effort. For I had now no sight but of Jesus Christ alone. All else was excluded, in order to love with greater purity and energy, without any motives or reasons for loving which were of a selfish nature.

— edited from The Life of Madam Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 6.

Accustom Yourself to Seek God in Your Heart

Reflections on
the Life of
Madame Jeanne de la Mothe Guyon.

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God was pleased to send one more messenger. 

"Oh, my Father!” says Madame Guyon, in connection with the incidents we are about to relate, "it seems to me sometimes, as if Thou didst forget every other being, in order to think only of my faithless and ungrateful heart." 

There was a devout man who belonged to the Religious Order of St. Francis. His name is not given, nor will it now probably ever be known on earth. This man, deeply impressed with religious sentiments, spent five years in solitude, for the express purpose of spiritual renovation, and of communion with God. With a heart subdued to the world's attractions, and yet inflamed for the world's good, he went out into the field of labor. He thought that God called him to labor for the conversion of a person of some distinction, who lived in the vicinity of M. De La Mothe. But his labors there proved fruitless, — or rather they resulted only in the trial of his own faith and patience. The humble Franciscan, resolving in his mind where be should next go and announce the divine message, was led by the inward monitor, speaking in connection with the indications of providence, to go to the house of M. De La Mothe, with whom he seems to have had some acquaintance in former times. 

M. De La Mothe, a man in whom the religious tendency was strong, was exceedingly glad to see him, and to receive his instructions, especially as he was then out of health, and had not much expectation of living long. His daughter Madame Guyon, who was desirous of rendering him every assistance in his increasing infirmities, was there at her father's house, although her own health was very infirm. Her father was not ignorant either of her outward or inward trials. She had conversed with him with entire frankness on her religious state. She related to him the exercises of her mind, her dissatisfaction with her present spiritual condition, and her earnest desire to avail herself of every favorable opportunity to receive religious instruction. Her father, influenced by the representations she made, as well as by his high sense of the piety and religious wisdom of the Franciscan who had visited him, not only advised but strongly urged her to consult with him.

Attended by a kinswoman, as seemed to be proper under the existing circumstances, she visited the room of the Franciscan, and stated to him her conviction of her need of religion, and the often-repeated and long-continued efforts she had made without effect. When she had done speaking, the Franciscan remained silent for some time, in inward meditation and prayer. He at length said: 

Your efforts have been unsuccessful, madame, because you have sought without, what you can only find within. Accustom yourself to seek God in your heart, and you will not fail to find him.

It is very probable, that she had heard a similar sentiment before; but if it were so, it came to her as religious truth always does come to those in their natural state, who are permitted to hear, before grace has enabled them to understand. But now the hour of God's providence and of special mercy had arrived. Clearly and strongly did the divine Spirit apply a truth which otherwise would have fallen useless to the ground. "Your efforts have been unsuccessful, Madame, because you have sought without what you can only find within. Accustom yourself to seek God in your heart, and you will not fail to find him." These few words, somewhat singular in the mode of expression as they are, obviously convey the great principle, that religion does not and cannot consist in outward working, — in a mere round of ceremonial duties, — in anything which comes exclusively under the denomination of an external action. But, on the contrary, it is inward in the sense of having its seat in the heart's affections, and in accordance with the great scriptural doctrine, that the "just shall live by faith." 

From the moment that Madame Guyon heard these words, she was enabled to see the error she had committed, — that of endeavoring to obtain God by a system of outward operations,— by the mercenary purchase of formal services, rather than by the natural and divine attraction of accordant sympathies. Speculatively, there may be a God objective, a God outward, a God recognized by the intellect as a great and majestic being living in the distance. And in certain respects this is a view of God which is not at variance with the truth. But still God can never be known to us as our God, He can never be brought into harmony with our nature, except as a God inward, a God received by faith and made one with us by love, and having his home in the sanctified temple of the heart. "Believe in the Lord your God; so shall ye be established."  “Believe his prophets; so shall ye prosper.”

 — edited from The Life of Madam Guyon Volume 1, Chapter 6.