St. Augustine

Thou must be emptied of that wherewith thou art full, that thou mayest be filled with that whereof thou art read more

Thou must be emptied of that wherewith thou art full, that thou mayest be filled with that whereof thou art empty.

Commemoration of Pandita Mary Ramabai, Translator of the Scriptures, 1922 The truth is neither mine nor his nor another's; read more

Commemoration of Pandita Mary Ramabai, Translator of the Scriptures, 1922 The truth is neither mine nor his nor another's; but belongs to us all whom Thou callest to partake of it, warning us terribly, not to account it private to ourselves, lest we be deprived of it.

What is Christ's joy in us, but that He deigns to rejoice on our account? And what is our Joy, read more

What is Christ's joy in us, but that He deigns to rejoice on our account? And what is our Joy, which He says shall be full, but to have fellowship with Him? He had perfect joy on our account, when He rejoiced in foreknowing and predestinating us; but that joy was not in us, because we did not then exist; it began to be in us, when He called us. And this joy we rightly call our own, this joy wherewith we shall be blessed; which is begun in the faith of them who are born again, and shall be fulfilled in the reward of them who rise again.

Whoever has Christ in his heart, so that no earthly or temporal things -- not even those that are legitimate read more

Whoever has Christ in his heart, so that no earthly or temporal things -- not even those that are legitimate and allowed -- are preferred to Him, has Christ as a foundation. But if these things be preferred, then even though a man seem to have faith in Christ, yet Christ is not the foundation to that man.

Feast of Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, Teacher, 430 Too late came I to love thee, O thou Beauty so read more

Feast of Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, Teacher, 430 Too late came I to love thee, O thou Beauty so ancient and so fresh, yea too late came I to love thee. And behold, thou wert within me, and I out of myself, where I made search for thee: I ugly rushed headlong upon those beautiful things thou hast made. Thou indeed wert with me; but I was not with thee: these beauties kept me far enough from thee: even those, which unless they were in thee, should not be at all.