"Cease, And I Will Do All"

Antonia Bourignon... speaking of some forms of prayer which she had been accustomed to go through, says, at a certain time, that they became burdensome to her, and difficult to be repeated. Her mind, fixing upon no particular object of want or desire, was greatly drawn to inward silence.

In her alarm she hardly knew what to think; but was inclined to adopt the trying conclusion, either that she had become indifferent to religion, or that God had abandoned her. She laid the case before God. The answer, which she speaks of having received, or perhaps more properly the conclusion to which her spirit was promptly led by a divine operation, was embodied in the concise but significant inward expression, "Cease, and I will do all."

The import of this divine response was this: Cease from the useless multitude of petitions with which you now weary me; leave, in the exercise of faith, all your cares and sorrows and wants in my hands, and I will take care of you.

In other words, it was the transition point from a life of desire to a life of faith;  and, instead of being a state of indifference or declension in religion, was really one of great advancement.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 2, Chapter 4.

The Life of Desire Contrasted With the Life of Faith

In order satisfactorily to understand the nature of the life of faith, it is necessary to distinguish it in some particulars from the life of desire. It is by these last expressions that the state of Christians, in the more common forms of experience, may well be described. Undoubtedly the description will apply with still more truth and emphasis to those whose hearts have never been brought in any degree under a truly religious influence. Of Christians, however, as well as of those who are not so, it can be said, with too much reason, that their life, which ought to be more fully sustained by a higher principle, is a life of desire. If they will examine carefully, they will be surprised to find the great disproportion which there is between their desires and their faith.

They desire, for instance, those temporal things which are convenient for them, without exercising a correspondent degree of faith, and without looking, as they ought to do, to the great and only Giver of all good. They desire, with feelings partly natural and partly, the progress of God's work in the world; but they have but little faith, certainly far less than they ought to have, that his work will be carried on. They have desires, perhaps earnest desires, that individuals, with whom they are acquainted, should become the devout followers of God; — but they have not faith in proportion to their desires. It is oftentimes the case that their desires are various, multiplied, and perhaps violent, when they are scarcely conscious of any degree of faith. Indeed, it seems sometimes to be the case that desires are strong and impetuous in proportion to want of faith. 

Casting Off the Broken Shield of Earth

It is, perhaps, a common idea, that humility implies weakness; and that lowliness of spirit is the same thing with spiritual imbecility. But this certainly is not a correct view. Christian humility, it is true, has nothing in itself; but it has much in God. In a word, it is the renunciation of our own wisdom, that we may receive wisdom from above; the negation and banishment of our own strength, that we may possess divine strength; the rejection of our own righteousness, that we may receive the righteousness of Christ. How, then, can it possibly be weak and imbecile, while it merely casts off the broken shield of earth, that it may put on the bright panoply of heaven?

— Religious Maxims (1846) XLII.

Walking in Humility

Where there is true Christian perfection, there is always great humility; a Christian grace which it is difficult to define, but which implies at least a quiet and subdued, a meek and forbearing spirit. Whatever may be our supposed gifts and graces, whatever may be our internal pleasures and raptures, they are far from furnishing evidence of completeness of Christian character without humility. It is this grace, which, perhaps more than any other, imparts a beauty and attractiveness to the religious life; and which, while  it  is blessed with the favor and approbation of God, has the additional efficacy of disarming, in a considerable degree, even the hostility of unholy men.  It has the appearance of a contradiction in terms, but is nevertheless true, that he who walks in humility walks in power.

— Religious Maxims (1846) XLI.

The Importance of Mental Tranquility

The divine life, which in every stage of its existence depends upon the presence of the Spirit of God, places a high estimate on mental tranquility. It is no new thing to remark that the Holy Spirit has no congeniality with, and no pleasure in the soul, where strife and clamor have taken possession. If, therefore, we would have the Holy Spirit with us always, we must avoid and flee, with all the intensity of our being, all inordinate coveting, all envying, malice, and evil speaking, all impatience, jealousy, and anger. Of such a heart, and such only, which is calm as well as pure, partaking something of the self-collected and sublime tranquility of the divine mind, can it be said, in the truest and highest sense that it is  a TEMPLE FITTED FOR THE INDWELLING  OF  THE HOLY GHOST.

— Religious Maxims (1846) XL.

Man's Spirit Hath an Upward Look

Man's spirit hath an upward look,
And robes itself with heavenly wings;
E'en when 'tis here compelled to brook
Confinement to terrestrial things.

Its eye is fastened on the skies;
Its wings for flight are opened wide;
Why doth it hesitate to rise?
And still upon the earth abide?

And would'st thou seek the cause to know,
And never more its course repress;
Then from those wings their burden throw,
And set them free from worldliness.

Shake off the earthly cares that stay
Their energy and upward flight;
And thou shalt see them make their way
To joy, and liberty, and light.

— American Cottage Life (1850).

Oh, Could I Rule My Erring Thought

Oh,  could I rule my erring thought,
Each wrong desire subdue;
And serve my maker as I ought,
And Thou would'st have me do.

Oh, could I discipline my mind,
To seek the heavenly goal;
Nor strive, in earthly things, to find
A treasure for the soul.

Then should my lips no more complain,
('Tis sin that makes my grief;)
But Thou, that givest ease for pain,
Would'st quickly bring relief.

Ascendant over time and sense,
My feet would upward move,
Protected by thy Providence,
Rejoicing in thy love.

— American Cottage Life (1850)