How sweet all at once it was for me to be rid of those fruitless joys which I had once feared to lose! You drove them from me, you who are the true, the sovereign joy. You drove them from me and took their place, you who are sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood.
O to behold the glory of Christ . . . Herein would I live; herein would I die; herein would I dwell in my thoughts and affections . . . until all things below become unto me a dead and deformed thing, no way suitable for affectionate embraces.