Saint Ephraim the Syrian

Entangled in the net of evil habits, I rejoice that I am bound. I sink into the very abyss of evil, and it gladdens me. Every day the enemy adds to my fetters, for he sees how I rejoice in their variety.

All this deserves lamentation and weeping, and this is the shame and the disgrace — that I am bound by my own desires. More dreadful still is that I am bound by the same chains the enemy lays on me, and I kill myself with the very passions that delight him.

I know in what terrible snares I am caught, and I try diligently to cover it with an outward show of decency. To look at, I am adorned with the garment of piety, while my soul is troubled by foul desires. Before those who see me I am noble; within I am utterly worthless.

My conscience rebukes me for this, and I seem to want to be freed from my fetters; every day I sigh and grieve over it, yet I get entangled again in the same net.

Wretched am I, and poor and feeble is my daily repentance, for it has no firm foundation. Every day I lay the foundation of a house, and with my own hands I pull it down.

My repentance has not yet made a good beginning, and there is no end in sight to my evil negligence. I am enslaved to my ruinous passions, to the evil will of the enemy that kills me... I wait for repentance as for a hope, and until death I deceive myself with empty promises. I always say that I shall repent, and I never repent; in word I seem to repent fervently, but in deed I am far from repentance.

What awaits me on the day of judgement, when God reveals everything at His tribunal! Surely I shall be condemned to eternal torment, unless here and now I move my Judge to mercy with tears.

Since I came to know the truth I have become a murderer and one who wrongs others. I quarrel over trifles. I am envious and harsh toward those I live with, merciless to the poor, wrathful, quarrelsome, stubborn, lazy, irritable, evil-minded; I love fine clothes, and to this day there are still countless foul thoughts in me: self-love, hardness, gluttony, love of delicacies, vainglory, pride, malice, judging, secret eating, despondency, rancour, vengefulness.

I know nothing — and think highly of myself; I lie unceasingly — and am angry with liars; I have defiled my temple with unclean desires — and I sternly judge adulterers; I judge the fallen, while I myself fall unceasingly; I judge the evil-tongued, while I myself am a thief and evil-tongued; I walk about with a bright gaze, though I am wholly defiled.

In church and at table I want the first place; I see a beginner — and I grow haughty; before the monks I am vain; I try to seem pleasant to women, grand to strangers, wise and sensible to my own people, perfect to the intelligent, learned to the devout; the foolish I loathe as beasts.

I take revenge for an insult; if I am held in honour, I despise those who honour me; if I am asked for something, I argue as if in the right. One who speaks the truth I count harsh; when rebuked, I grow angry, but if I am flattered, I am not displeased.

I do not wish to honour the worthy, yet unworthy as I am I demand honour. I do not wish to trouble myself, but if another does not serve me I am angry with him; I do not want to work with others, but if they do not help me I speak evil of them.

I proudly refuse a brother in need, but when I myself need help I turn to him. I cannot bear the sick, but when I am ill myself I want everyone to love me. I do not acknowledge those above me; I despise those below.

If I have restrained myself from a foolish desire, I grow vain; if I have made progress in vigil, I get entangled in the net of disobedience and contradiction; if I have kept myself from idleness, I sink into conceit and haughtiness; if I pray unceasingly, irritation and anger overcome me; if I see virtue in someone, I pay no attention.

I have come to hate the pleasures of this world, but I have not been freed from the vain desire for them. If I see women, I grow merry; outwardly I am humble, but in my soul high-minded; at first sight I am no acquisitive man, but in reality I suffer from love of possessions. To look at, I have withdrawn from this world, yet I still think about it.

During the service I talk; my mind wanders and I think of vain things; at table I engage in idle talk, envy gifts, share in the falls of others, and am caught up in ruinous rivalry.

Such is my life — how much evil I set against my own salvation! Pride, haughtiness and vainglory do not let me look at my own wounds and heal them. These are my good deeds! With so many sins does the enemy assail me. And after all this I, accursed one, seek to be glorified for holiness; living in sins, I want to be counted among the righteous.

I justify myself with only one thing: the devil led me astray. But did that justify Adam? Certainly the devil taught Cain too, yet he did not escape judgement either. What shall I do when God calls me to account! There is no justification at all for my negligence.

Alas, sin has taken hold of me and found its dwelling in me; day by day it casts me down further and drags me into its abyss. And I, wretched one, do not cease to anger the Lord. I do not fear the unquenchable fire of Gehenna, and endless torment does not make me tremble.

Oh, how sinful passions rule over me! Oh, what power the evil and cunning serpent has: working upon nature, he bargains with me and gives me a pledge, so that I may sell my mind to sin. He persuades me to please the flesh on the pretext of putting it at the service of the soul. Overcome by love of pleasure, I give myself up to intemperate sleep and fall wholly short in the service of the soul; when I pray, he suggests to me the thought of some vain pleasure, and with this, as with an iron chain, he holds my weak mind and does not loosen its bonds, though the mind tries to flee.

So sin keeps watch over the mind and shuts the door of vision against me. The enemy keeps unceasing watch on my mind, lest it come into agreement with God and resist the selling of the flesh; to this end he sends me confused thoughts to persuade me that at the judgement such trifles will not even be asked about, that it is supposedly impossible even to know such desires, and that everything of the kind will be consigned to oblivion.

But I picture myself exposed. And I know that punishment awaits me. I look over my sins, O God, and seeing their multitude I say: oh, how has such a calamity come upon me! My tongue speaks beautifully, but my conduct is shameful and loathsome. Woe is me, wretched one, on that day when all secrets are made plain.

Very fine are my words for others, but my deeds are loathsome; I teach others good order in this world, while I myself, pitiful one, give myself over to the passions.

My days have run away and been spent in doing sins; not one day have I served righteousness. As soon as, having repented, I resolved to sin no more, the cunning devil at once seized me with his hatred.

When I walk abroad I show myself wise and righteous. When another sins, I laugh at him and mock him. Alas, my iniquities too will be made plain, and I shall be put to shame!

Would that I had never been born! This passing world would not have corrupted me; not seeing it, I would not be guilty; I would not have been defiled by sins, and would not fear judgement and torment.

As soon as I vow repentance, I at once turn back and fall into the same sins. The time spent in sins delights me, and I think I am doing something praiseworthy.

Woe is me! Until now I have not thought that Gehenna awaits me.

A seductive will leads me into sin; and when I sin, I blame Satan; but alas, he does not compel me — I myself am the cause of my sins; I sin of my own will.

Thy grace, coming to my heart and seeing in it the stench of foul desires, at once departs, because it finds no way in and no means to dwell in me as it would.

I am poor, stripped by the serpent; weak, bound by corruption; powerless, crushed by sin; I have lost the gift granted me by Thee, and so I have no perfect prudence. I have lost communion with Thee, and so I do not know where I am going. I have nothing; if I have anything, it is given only by Thy great mercy; I am utterly poor; if I become rich, it will be only by what Thou hast given, and it is Thine now and was Thine before.

I ask only for grace — I confess that by Thee alone I shall be saved! — if I am saved!