Letters

^1. If all the members of my body were to be converted into tongues, and if each of my limbs were to be gifted with a human voice, I could still do no justice to the virtues of the holy and venerable Paula. Noble in family, she was nobler still in holiness; rich formerly in this world's goods, she is now more distinguished by the poverty that she has embraced for Christ. Of the stock of the Gracchi and descended from the Scipios, the heir and representative of that Paulus whose name she bore, the true and legitimate daughter of that Martia Papyria who was mother to Africanus, she yet preferred Bethlehem to Rome, and left her palace glittering with gold to dwell in a mud cabin. We do not grieve that we have lost this perfect woman; rather we thank God that we have had her, nay that we have her still. For “all live unto” God, and they who return unto the Lord are still to be reckoned members of his family. We have lost her, it is true, but the heavenly mansions have gained her; for as long as she was in the body she was absent from the Lord and would constantly complain with tears:— “Woe is me that I sojourn in Mesech, that I dwell in the tents of Kedar; my soul has been this long time a pilgrim.” It was no wonder that she sobbed out that even she was in darkness (for this is the meaning of the word Kedar) seeing that, according to the apostle, “the world lies in the evil one;” and that, “as its darkness is, so is its light;” and that “the light shines in darkness and the darkness comprehended it not.” She would frequently exclaim: “I am a stranger with you and a sojourner as all my fathers were,” and again, I desire “to depart and to be with Christ.” As often too as she was troubled with bodily weakness (brought on by incredible abstinence and by redoubled fastings), she would be heard to say: “I keep under my body and bring it into subjection; lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway;” and “It is good neither to eat flesh nor to drink wine;” and “I humbled my soul with fasting;” and “you will make all” my “bed in” my “sickness;” and “Your hand was heavy upon me: my moisture is turned into the drought of summer.” And when the pain which she bore with such wonderful patience darted through her, as if she saw the heavens opened she would say “Oh that I had wings like a dove! For then would I fly away and be at rest.”