The Method of Continual Prayer

So, then, we will follow the method that you so well compared to the teaching of children. Children can take in only the first lessons of the alphabet. They learn to recognize the shapes of the letters, and to trace them out with a steady hand, only after they have grown used to forming them by looking constantly at models and shapes carefully pressed into wax and copying them every day. In the same way we must give you the pattern of this spiritual contemplation. You may always fix your gaze on it with the greatest steadiness. You may learn to dwell on it to your profit without a break, and by practicing it and meditating on it you may also manage to climb to a still loftier insight. This, then, is the formula set before you for the method you are asking about, and for prayer. Every monk who is making progress toward the continual remembrance of God is used to pondering it, turning it over in his heart without ceasing, after he has driven out every other kind of thought. For he cannot possibly keep his hold on it unless he has freed himself from all bodily cares and worries. Just as it was handed down to us by a few of the oldest fathers who were still left, so we pass it on only to a very few, and to those who are truly eager. So, for keeping up the continual remembrance of God, this devout formula is always to be set before you: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” [a]

Not without reason has this verse been picked out of the whole of Scripture for this purpose. For it takes in every feeling that can be found in human nature, and it can be fitted aptly and well to every condition and to every attack. It contains a call on God against every danger. It contains humble and devout confession. It contains the watchfulness of anxiety and constant fear. It contains the thought of one’s own weakness, confidence of being heard, and the assurance of a help that is present and always ready. For whoever is constantly calling on his protector is sure that he is always at hand. It contains the glow of love and affection. It contains a sight of the enemy’s plots and a dread of the enemies themselves. The one who sees himself hemmed in by them day and night confesses that he cannot be set free without the help of his defender. This verse is an unbreakable wall for all who are struggling under the attacks of demons, as well as a coat of armor that cannot be pierced and a strong shield. It does not let those who are sunk in gloom and anxiety of mind, or weighed down by sadness or by thoughts of every kind, despair of the remedies that save. It shows them that the one they call on is always watching our struggles and is not far from those who pray to him. It warns those of us who are enjoying spiritual success and gladness of heart that we ought not to be at all elated or puffed up by our happy state. It assures us that this state cannot last without God as our protector, since it begs him to help us not only always but quickly. This verse, I say, will be found helpful and useful to every one of us, whatever our condition may be. For whoever wants to be helped always and in all things shows that he needs God’s help not only in sorrowful or hard times, but just as much in prosperous and happy ones. He needs to be rescued from the one and kept in the other, since he knows that in both of them human weakness cannot hold out without God’s help.

I am troubled by the passion of gluttony. I ask for food the desert knows nothing of, and in the squalid desert the smells of royal delicacies drift to me, and I find that I am drawn to long for them even against my will. At once I must say: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” I am tempted to eat before the hour fixed for supper, or I am struggling with great sorrow of heart to keep to the limits of our right and regular scanty fare. I must cry out with groans: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” When I want stricter fasts because of the attacks of the flesh, weakness of the stomach stands in my way, or dryness of the bowels and constipation frightens me. So that my wishes may be carried out, or else so that the fire of fleshly lust may be put out without the remedy of a stricter fast, I must pray: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” When I come to supper at the call of the proper hour, I loathe taking food and am kept from eating anything to meet the needs of nature. I must cry with a sigh: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” When I want to apply myself to reading, for the sake of steadiness of heart, a headache gets in the way and stops me. At the third hour sleep glues my head to the sacred page, and I am forced either to go beyond the time set for rest or to take it before its time. Finally, an overpowering desire for sleep forces me to cut short the canonical rule of psalms at the service. In the same way I must cry out: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” Sleep is taken from my eyes. For many nights I find myself worn out by sleeplessness that the devil brings on, and all rest and repose by night is kept from my eyelids. I must sigh and pray: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.”

While I am still in the middle of a struggle with sin, suddenly an irritation of the flesh comes over me and tries by a pleasant sensation to draw me into consenting while I sleep. So that a raging fire from outside may not burn up the fragrant blossoms of chastity, I must cry out: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” I feel that the goad of lust has been taken away, and that the heat of passion has died down in my members. So that this good condition I have gained, or rather this grace of God, may stay with me longer, or forever, I must earnestly say: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” I am troubled by the pangs of anger, greed, and gloom, and driven to break up the peaceful state I was in, which was dear to me. So that raging passion may not carry me away into the bitterness of gall, I must cry out with deep groans: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” I am tempted to be puffed up by acedia, empty glory, and pride, and my mind, with subtle thoughts, flatters itself a little because of the coldness and carelessness of others. So that this dangerous suggestion of the enemy may not get the mastery over me, I must pray with all the sorrow of a broken heart: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” I have gained the grace of humility and simplicity, and by continually putting my spirit to death I have got rid of the swellings of pride. So that the “foot of pride” may not again “come against me,” nor “the hand of the sinner disturb me,” and so that I may not be more seriously harmed by elation at my success, I must cry with all my might: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.”

I am burning with countless different wanderings of soul and restlessness of heart. I cannot gather my scattered thoughts. I cannot even pour out my prayer without interruptions and images of empty shapes, and the memory of conversations and actions. I feel myself tied down by such dryness and barrenness that I cannot give birth to any offspring in the form of spiritual ideas. So that I may be granted freedom from this wretched state of mind, from which I cannot free myself by any number of sighs and groans, I must surely cry out: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” Again, I feel that by the visitation of the Holy Spirit I have gained purpose of soul, steadiness of thought, and keenness of heart, together with a joy beyond words and a rapture of mind. In the overflowing of spiritual feelings, by a sudden light from the Lord, I have perceived an abundant revelation of most holy ideas that were once altogether hidden from me. So that I may be granted to linger in them longer, I must often and anxiously exclaim: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” Surrounded by the terrors of devils at night, I am shaken, and disturbed by the appearances of unclean spirits. My very hope of life and salvation is taken from me by the horror of fear. Fleeing to the safe refuge of this verse, I will cry out with all my might: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.” Again, I have been restored by the Lord’s comfort, and, cheered by his coming, I feel myself surrounded as if by countless thousands of angels. All of a sudden I dare to seek out the conflict and challenge to battle those whom a little while ago I dreaded worse than death, whose touch or even approach I felt with a shudder of both mind and body. So that this strength of courage may, by God’s grace, stay in me longer, I must cry out with all my powers: “O God, come quickly to save me; O Lord, hurry to help me.”

We must, then, pour out the prayer of this verse without ceasing and without a break: in adversity, that we may be delivered; in prosperity, that we may be kept safe and not be puffed up. Let the thought of this verse, I tell you, be turned over in your heart without ceasing. Whatever work you are doing, whatever office you hold, whatever journey you are on, do not stop chanting it. When you go to bed, when you eat, and when you attend to the last needs of nature, think on it. This thought in your heart may be a saving formula for you. It will not only keep you unharmed by all the attacks of devils, but will also cleanse you from all faults and earthly stains. It will lead you to that unseen and heavenly contemplation, and carry you on to that glow of prayer beyond words which so few have ever known. Let sleep come on you while you are still thinking on this verse, until, shaped by constant use of it, you grow used to repeating it even in your sleep. When you wake, let it be the first thing to come into your mind. Let it come before all your waking thoughts. When you rise from your bed, let it send you down on your knees, and from there send you out to all your work and business, and let it follow you all day long. You should think on it, as the Lawgiver commands, “at home and walking out on a journey,” sleeping and waking. You should write it on the threshold and door of your mouth. You should place it on the walls of your house and in the inner rooms of your heart. Then, when you fall on your knees in prayer, it will be your chant as you kneel, and when you rise from prayer to go out to all the necessary business of life, it will be your constant prayer as you stand.