CHAPTER VII.
His love of God.
1.THE sentiments M. De Renty had of the love of God, he thus exprest in a letter to his director; “In all I read in the scripture, I neither understand nor find any thing but this Love. The very end of the commandment is love, out of a sincere heart. And this is acquired by faith in Christ Jesus, as the apostle observes in the following words. Faith uniteth us to him, whereby we sacrifice our souls and bodies, thro’ his spirit; which conducteth us to the compleat end of the law, to deliver us up to God and bring him down to us in charity, and a gracious inexplicable union; to whom be praise for ever! Amen!”
2. Writing to another, he says, “I thank our Lord, who hath disposed you to a perfect self-denial. This is the way to love; and our love of God is shewn, not so much in receiving gifts and graces from him, as in forgetting ourselves, in renouncing all things, and suffering constantly and courageously for him.”
3. So inflamed was M. De Renty with this love, that all his thoughts, words and works, were the fruits of it. All his virtues drew their original from this: it was the beginning, and motive, and end of all. “I cannot conceal from you, said he to a friend, that I have a fire in my heart, which burns and consumes without ceasing.” And this divine fire was so ardent in his soul, that the flames thereof often burst forth into his exterior; and he hath owned, that whenever he pronounced the name of God, he tasted such a sweetness as could not be exprest.
4. One of his friends assures us, “he has often seen him so inflamed with love, that he appeared like one beside himself: and that he has told him, when these transports were upon him, he was ready to cast himself into the fire, to testify his love to God.” And one of his letters he concludes thus: “I must now hold my peace; yet when I cease to speak, the fire within that consumes me will not let me rest. Let us burn then, and burn wholly and in every part for God. Since we have no being but by him, why do we not live to him? I speak it aloud and it would be my crown of glory, to seal it with my blood.”
*5. To another he writes thus: “I know not what your intent was, in writing those words, ‘My God and my all!’ Only you incite me thereby to return the same to you and to all creatures, ‘My God and my all! My God and my all! My God and my all!’ Is your heart full of it, and think you it possible I should be silent on such an invitation! Be it known to you, that he is my God and my all; and if you doubt of it, I shall speak it a hundred times over. I shall add no more, for any thing else is superfluous to him that is truly penetrated with ‘My God and my all’.”
*6. This love of God wrought in him an incredible zeal for his honour, which he thus expresses to his director; “One day being transported with an earnest desire to be all devoted to God, and all consumed for him, I offered up to him all I could, yea, and all I could not. I would willingly, if they had been mine, have made a deed of gift to him of heaven and earth: and in another way, I would gladly have been the lowest of all mankind. Yea, and if supported by his grace, I could have been content, to advance his glory, to have suffered the pains of the damn’d. In this disposition of a calm zeal, there is no sort of martyrdom, no degree of greatness or littleness, honour or dishonour, that passed not through my soul, and that I would not readily have embraced for the advancement of his glory. It is impossible to express one circumstance of what I felt. All I could do was, to give up my liberty to God, writing the deed in paper and signing it with my blood.”
7. See here the zeal of a man all on fire with the love of God! And the surest proof of love, conformity to his will. This intimate union of his will with God’s, the object and end of all his actions, was indeed one of his singular graces, as it is the sum of all perfection. He writ thus to one concerning the Countess of Chatres, with whom he had the strictest friendship; “I must own, that during my absence from her, my heart was tenderly sensible of her pain. But my desire submits to the will of God, and when that is signified, he gives me grace to obey. I was not at Paris, but at Citry, when she departed; I was sent for post but came two hours too late. Entering the town, I soon heard the news of her death. Presently I fixt myself to the will of God; whereupon I found no more alteration in my soul, than if she had been alive. I see his order in this, that I assisted her not at her death, and doubt not but he permitted it for her advantage.”