When
Francis was praying in the woods or solitary places, he would fill the forest
with groans, water the places with tears, strike his breast with his hand, and,
as if finding a more secret hiding place, he often conversed out loud with his
Lord. There he replied to the Judge,
there he entreated the Father; there he
conversed with the Friend, there he played with the Bridegroom. Indeed, in order to make all the marrow of
his heart a holocaust in manifold ways, he would place before his eyes the One who is manifold and supremely simple. He would often ruminate inwardly with
unmoving lips, and, drawing outward things inward, he raised his spirit to the
heights. Thus he would direct all his
attention and affection toward the one
thing he asked of the Lord, not
so much praying, as becoming himself totally prayer.
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