moment.  She had been starving in the midst of fulness; God was near and not far off; the kingdom of heaven was within her.  The love of God from that hour took possession of her soul with an inexpressible happiness.  Prayer, which had before been so difficult, was now delightful and indispensable; hours passed away like moments: she could scarcely cease from praying.  Her domestic trials seemed great to her no longer; her inward joy consumed like a fire the reluctance, the murmur, and the sorrow, which all had their birth in herself.  A spirit of comforting peace, a sense of rejoicing possession, pervaded all her days.  God was continually with her, and she seemed continually yielded up to God.  ‘Madame,’ said the solitary, ‘you seek without for what you have within.’  Where do you seek for God when you pray, my brethren?  To what place do you direct your eyes?  Is it to the roof of your closet?  Is it to the east end of your consecrated chapel?  Is it to that wooden table in the east end of your chapel?  Or, passing out of all houses made with hands and consecrated with holy oil, do you lift up your eyes to the skies where the sun and the moon and the stars dwell alone?  ‘What a folly!’ exclaims Theophilus, in the golden dialogue, ‘for no way is the true way to God but by the way of our own heart.  God is nowhere else to be found.  And the heart itself cannot find Him but by its own love of Him, faith in Him, dependence upon Him, resignation to Him, and expectation of all from Him.’  ‘You have quite carried your point with me,’ answered Theogenes after he had heard all that Theophilus had to say.  ‘The God of meekness, of patience, and of love is henceforth the one God of my heart.  It is now the one bent and desire of my soul to seek for all my salvation in and through the merits and mediation of the meek, humble, patient, resigned, suffering Lamb of God, who alone has power to bring forth the blessed birth of those heavenly virtues in my soul.  What a comfort it is to think that this Lamb of God, Son of the Father, Light of the World; this Glory of heaven and this Joy of angels is as near to us, is as truly in the midst of us, as He is in the midst of heaven.  And that not a thought, look, or desire of our heart that presses toward Him, longing to catch one small spark of His heavenly nature, but is as sure a way of finding Him, as the woman’s way was who was healed of her deadly disease by longing to touch but the border of His garment.’