The works of John Dryden, $c now first collected in eighteen volumes. $p Volume 16 by John Dryden
page 172 of 503 (34%)
page 172 of 503 (34%)
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in a man itself alone, or to try the patience of the saint. The most
rebellious to God's spirit were the Javares,--a rugged and inhuman people, who inhabit only in caves, and in the day-time roam about the forests. Not content with not following the instructions of the Father, they laid divers ambushes for him; and one day, while he was explaining the rules of morality to them out of the gospel, by a river side, provoked by the zeal wherewith he condemned their dissolute manners, they cast stones at him with design to kill him. The barbarians were on the one side of him, and the river on the other, which was broad and deep; insomuch, that it was in a manner impossible for Xavier to escape the fury of his enemies: but nothing is impossible to a man whom heaven protects. There was lying on the bank a great beam of wood; the saint pushed it without the least difficulty into the water, and placing himself upon it, was carried in an instant to the other side, where the stones which were thrown could no longer reach him. For what remains, he endured in this barren and inhospitable country all the miseries imaginable, of hunger, thirst, and nakedness. But the comforts which he received from heaven, infinitely sweetened all his labours; which may be judged by the letter he wrote to Father Ignatius. For, after he had made him a faithful description of the place, "I have," said he, "given you this account of it, that from thence you may conclude, what abundance of celestial consolations I have tasted in it. The dangers to which I am exposed, and the pains I take for the interest of God alone, are the inexhaustible springs of spiritual joys; insomuch, that these islands, bare of all worldly necessaries, are the places in the world, for a man to lose his sight with the excess of weeping; but they are tears of joy. For my own part, I remember not ever to have tasted such interior delights; and these consolations of the soul, are so pure, so exquisite, and so perpetual, that they take from me all sense of |
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