The poor soul is seized with trembling in the presence of so lofty a majesty; she is terrified at her own hideous deformity and numberless offences. Whatever good she has done is hidden from her; the divine graces given her stand out in strong contrast with her sins; a terrible anguish crushes her in the presence of God’s holiness and justice; she believes herself to be all mud and filth, devoid of every virtue; it seems to her impossible that God could love so horrible an object or endure such infection; besides, was she ever worth anything? Has she not lived under a perpetual delusion ? Is she not then justly abandoned, hopelessly lost? She wishes only for God, but God seems taken away from her for ever, she is drowned in an ocean of bitterness, horribly tempted against hope. This, however, is but the vivid thrill of adoration, it is regret, shame, desire and love, not a falling away, not a back-sliding down the slope of negligence; for this soul fears the least fault more than death; she so loves God that she would sacrifice a thousand lives for His sake; in this dreadful storm faith has not foundered; the despair is only apparent, and has its seat only in the sensitive nature; it is the love of God and the fear of losing Him which subjects the soul to such a torture, and this alone should be sufficient to reassure her.