Augustine of Hippo

You have made us for Yourself, O Lord,
and our heart is restless until it rests in You.

I carried about me a cut and bleeding soul,
that could not bear to be carried by me,
and where I could put it, I could not discover.

I became to myself a vast problem.

I was held fast not by another's irons,
but by my own iron will.

The enemy held my will,
and from it had made a chain
and bound me with it.

Grant me chastity and continence—
but not yet.

I was at strife with myself, and torn apart by myself.

There I was, going mad on the way to sanity,
dying on the way to life.

I heard from a nearby house
a voice like a boy or girl—
I do not know which—
chanting and repeating over and over:

"Take and read. Take and read."

I had no wish to read further;
there was no need.

At once, with the last words of this sentence,
it was as if a light of relief flooded into my heart.
All the shadows of doubt were dispelled.

Late have I loved You,
Beauty ever ancient, ever new,
late have I loved You!

You were within me,
but I was outside myself,
and there I searched for You.

You called and cried out loud
and shattered my deafness.

You were radiant and resplendent,
you put to flight my blindness.

You were fragrant,
and I drew in my breath
and now pant after You.

I tasted You,
and I feel hunger and thirst for You.

You touched me,
and I am set on fire to attain the peace which is Yours.