Yet suffer me to speak unto Thy mercy, me, dust and ashes. Yet
suffer me to speak, since I speak to Thy mercy, and not to scornful
man. Thou too, perhaps, despisest me, yet wilt Thou return and have
compassion upon me. For what would I say, O Lord my God, but that
I know not whence I came into this dying life (shall I call it?) or
living death. Then immediately did the comforts of Thy compassion
take me up, as I heard (for I remember it not) from the parents of
my flesh, out of whose substance Thou didst sometime fashion me. Thus
there received me the comforts of woman's milk. For neither my mother
nor my nurses stored their own breasts for me; but Thou didst bestow
the food of my infancy through them, according to Thine ordinance,
whereby Thou distributest Thy riches through the hidden springs of
all things. Thou also gavest me to desire no more than Thou gavest;
and to my nurses willingly to give me what Thou gavest them. For they,
with a heaven-taught affection, willingly gave me what they abounded
with from Thee. For this my good from them, was good for them. Nor,
indeed, from them was it, but through them; for from Thee, O God,
are all good things, and from my God is all my health. This I since
learned, Thou, through these Thy gifts, within me and without, proclaiming
Thyself unto me. For then I knew but to suck; to repose in what pleased,
and cry at what offended my flesh; nothing more.