Proslogion, Chapter I

Up now, slight man! flee, for a little while, thy occupations;
hide thyself, for a time, from thy disturbing thoughts.
Cast aside, now, thy burdensome cares, and put away thy toilsome business.
Yield room for some little time to God; and rest for a little time in him.
Enter the inner chamber of thy mind;
shut out all thoughts save that of God, and such as can aid thee in seeking him;
close thy door and seek him.
Speak now, my whole heart! speak now to God, saying,
I seek thy face; thy face, Lord, will I seek.

Lord, if thou art not here, where shall I seek thee, being absent?
But if thou art everywhere, why do I not see thee present?
Truly thou dwellest in unapproachable light.
But where is unapproachable light, or how shall I come to it?
Or who shall lead me to that light and into it, that I may see thee in it?

Lord, thou art my God, and thou art my Lord, and never have I seen thee.
It is thou that hast made me, and hast made me anew,
and hast bestowed upon me all the blessing I enjoy;
and not yet do I know thee.
Finally, I was created to see thee, and not yet have I done that for which I was made.

Why did he not keep for us, when he could so easily,
that whose lack we should feel so heavily?
Why did he shut us away from the light, and cover us over with darkness?

And thou too, O Lord, how long?
How long, O Lord, dost thou forget us; how long dost thou turn thy face from us?
When wilt thou look upon us, and hear us?
When wilt thou enlighten our eyes, and show us thy face?
When wilt thou restore thyself to us?
Look upon us, Lord; hear us, enlighten us, reveal thyself to us.
Restore thyself to us, that it may be well with us—
thyself, without whom it is so ill with us.
Pity our toilings and strivings toward thee since we can do nothing without thee.
Thou dost invite us; do thou help us.

I beseech thee, O Lord, that I may not lose hope in sighs,
but may breathe anew in hope.
Lord, my heart is made bitter by its desolation;
sweeten thou it, I beseech thee, with thy consolation.
Lord, in hunger I began to seek thee;
I beseech thee that I may not cease to hunger for thee.
In hunger I have come to thee; let me not go unfed.
I have come in poverty to the Rich, in misery to the Compassionate;
let me not return empty and despised.

Be it mine to look up to thy light, even from afar, even from the depths.
Teach me to seek thee, and reveal thyself to me, when I seek thee,
for I cannot seek thee, except thou teach me,
nor find thee, except thou reveal thyself.
Let me seek thee in longing, let me long for thee in seeking;
let me find thee in love, and love thee in finding.

Lord, I acknowledge and I thank thee that thou hast created me in this thine image,
in order that I may be mindful of thee, may conceive of thee, and love thee;
but that image has been so consumed and wasted away by vices,
and obscured by the smoke of wrong-doing,
that it cannot achieve that for which it was made,
except thou renew it, and create it anew.
I do not endeavor, O Lord, to penetrate thy sublimity,
for in no wise do I compare my understanding with that;
but I long to understand in some degree thy truth,
which my heart believes and loves.
For I do not seek to understand that I may believe,
but I believe in order to understand.
For this also I believe—that unless I believed, I should not understand.




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        Saint Anselm of Canterbury, Proslogion (tr. Sidney Norton Deane, 1903)