as we have A seen that, by the grace of God, it will soon come to pass. Rejoice, therefore, and be glad, and find comfort in your 589 accomplishments; and never despair, for we shall see one another again, and I shall remind you of these words.
To the same, Epistle VIII.
It was, therefore, not to be that even when I had departed from the city, I should be freed from those things that trouble our mind. For those who meet us on the way—some from the East, some from Armenia, and others from every part of the world—pour forth fountains of tears when they behold us, and utter groans, and accompany us with lamentations along the entire journey. I have mentioned these things B so that you may know that I have many who share in your grief; this brings no small measure of consolation. For since the prophet deplores the opposite as something heavy and intolerable, saying, *And I looked for one who would grieve with me, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none* (Ps. LXVIII, 21): it is evident that it brings great consolation, truly, to have the whole world as a companion in one’s sorrow. But if you are looking for another consolation, we who have suffered so many and such great evils, are enjoying good health and living in security, recounting our varied and continuous afflictions and calamities and plots in great quiet, and refreshing ourselves C with the constant memory of them. Therefore, you too, by reflecting on these things, cast aside the cloud of sorrow, and write to us as often as possible about your health. Since now that my most beloved lord Arabius has written to me, I was surprised that you have sent me no letter at all, especially since my lady, his wife, loves you very much. Consider also this, that all the joyful and pleasant things of this life, as well as the grave and troublesome, are passing away. For even if the gate is narrow and the way constricted, it is still a way (Matt. VII, 13, 14); for I shall recall to your memory that word of which I have often spoken to you. Even if the gate is wide and the way spacious, still it is a way.
The impunity of crimes is to be feared. Since these things are so, endeavor to withdraw yourself from the earth, indeed, from the very bonds D of the flesh, and rouse the wings of your philosophy, and do not allow them to be engulfed by shadows and smoke (for such are human affairs). Instead, even if you see those who have committed so many crimes against us enjoying their own cities, and being honored, and attended by guards, sing this word: *Wide is the gate and broad the way that leads to destruction* (Matt. VII, 13), and for this very reason lament and weep for them all the more. For he who commits some crime here, and because of this not only pays no penalty but also receives honor from men, will depart in such a way that this honor is the greatest source of punishment for him. For this reason, that rich man also was tormented in a cruel manner—not paying the penalty only for that cruelty which he had shown toward Lazarus, 608 A but also for his flourishing state, in which, enjoying such inhumanity throughout his whole life, he did not become any better even from that. By discussing these and other things of this kind with yourself (for we have never ceased to impress them upon you), my most religious lady, cast aside this heavy burden of sorrow, and make us certain of this: that—just as I have also written to you—when I perceive that your sorrow has been alleviated by our letters, I may more frequently apply this medicine.
To the same, Epistle IX.
When I see men and women in great throngs, pouring themselves out through the stations B and the cities, and shedding tears at the sight of us, I perceive the state in which you yourselves are. For since those who have seen us now for the first time are so broken by sorrow that they cannot easily recover, and yet, when we entreat and exhort and admonish them, they pour forth even hotter fountains of tears, there is certainly no doubt that the storm is more violent among you. But the more violent the storm is, the greater will be the rewards, if you continue to endure them with thanksgiving, as you are indeed doing. For even helmsmen, when a violent wind is blowing, if they stretch the sails beyond measure, capsize the ship; but if they direct them moderately and as is proper, they navigate most safely. Since you possess this knowledge, my most religious lady, do not surrender yourself bound to the tyranny of sorrow, but overcome the storm with reason; for you have the power to do this, C nor does the storm exceed your skill; and send us letters that signify this, so that we, even while living in a foreign land, may derive the greatest pleasure from understanding that you have borne this sorrow with that prudence and wisdom which becomes you. These things I have written to you when I was already not far from Caesarea.
To the same, Epistle X.
But I would also have you cast aside that fear which you have conceived from our journey. For, as I have already signified to you by letter, my body has received an accession of both health and strength. For the air has dealt kindly with us, and those by whom we are being conveyed into exile D are showing every care and zeal, even more than we desire, to refresh and restore us, and they are laboring to that end. But when I was about to depart from Nicaea, I sent this letter to you, on the third day of July. See to it, therefore, that you write to us about your health as often as possible. For my lord Pergamius, in whom I have great confidence, will labor for you in this matter. Nor do I wish that you only make us certain of your good health, but that you also signify that the cloud of sorrow has been dispelled from you. For if we learn this from your letters, we shall also send letters to you more frequently, so that we may achieve something by writing. Therefore, if you desire to receive frequent letters from us, clearly indicate to us that some benefit flows from our frequent letters: and you will see us bestow that favor most abundantly.