Tears We Cannot Call Up at Will

My own poor self is indeed not altogether a stranger to this feeling of a pierced heart. For often, when tears rise at the memory of my faults, the Lord’s visit has so refreshed me with this joy beyond words that you describe, that the greatness of the joy has assured me I ought not to despair of their forgiveness. I think there is no state of mind higher than this, if only it could be called back at our own will. For sometimes, when I want to stir myself up with all my strength to the same piercing of heart and the same tears, and I set all my faults and sins before my eyes, I cannot bring back that flood of tears. My eyes are as dry and hard as the hardest flint, so that not a single tear trickles from them. And so, as much as I rejoice in that flood of tears, just so much do I mourn that I cannot bring it back whenever I wish. [a]