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ℹ️ The Chinese and English alongside are this site's own translation, made directly from the original text on this page (not the CUV or the WEB, which follow the Masoretic Text and a different textual tradition).
To his most beloved daughter Abra, Hilary sends greeting in the Lord. I have received your letter. I understand that you long for me, and I certainly hold it so; for I feel how desirable is the presence of those who are loved. And because I knew that my absence was grievous to you, lest perhaps you should judge me unkind toward you, since I have been away from you so long, I have wished to excuse to you both my journey and my delays, that you might understand that I am absent from you not out of unkindness, but for your benefit.
For since I hold you, daughter, as my only child, and, so far as lies in me, also as one of one mind with me, and since I would wish you to live most beautiful and most healthy of all, (2) it was reported to me that there is a certain young man possessing a pearl and a garment of inestimable price, which, if anyone could earn it from him, he would become both rich and safe beyond human riches and safety. To him therefore, on hearing these things, I set out. And when I had come to him by many long and difficult roads, seeing him I at once fell prostrate; for so beautiful a young man is present that no one dares to stand before his face. When he saw that I had fallen down, he bade me be asked what I wished and what I begged.
And I answered that I had heard of his garment and pearl, and had come, and that, if he would deign to grant it to me, I had a daughter whom I loved exceedingly, for whom I was seeking this garment and pearl. And amid these words I lay prostrate on my face, weeping much, and groaning night and day I begged that he would deign to hear my prayer. After this, since he is a good young man and there is nothing better than he, he said to me: 'Do you know this garment and this pearl, which weeping you ask of me, that I should grant it to your daughter?' And I answered him: 'Lord, by hearing I have come to know of them, and by faith I have believed, and I know that they are most excellent, and that it is true salvation to be clothed with this garment and adorned with this pearl.'
And at once he commanded his servants to show me both this garment and the pearl, and immediately it was so done. This garment I saw first; I saw, daughter, I saw what I cannot utter. Was not silk, compared with its fineness, but coarse hemp? Would not the snows, compared with its whiteness, turn dark? Would not gold, beside its brightness, grow dull? For it was itself of many colours, and nothing at all could be found to equal it. After this I saw the pearl, and at the sight of it I at once fell down; for my eyes could not endure so great a splendour of it. For neither the appearance of the sky, nor of light, nor of the sea, nor of the earth could be compared with its beauty. And as I lay prostrate, one of those standing by said to me:
'I see that you are a solicitous and good father, and that you desire this garment and this pearl for your daughter; but, that you may desire them the more, I show you what further good this garment and pearl possess. This garment is never eaten by moths, is not worn out by use, is not stained by dirt, is not torn by force, is not lost by any harm, but always remains such as it is. And this pearl has such power that, if anyone be clothed with it, he does not fall sick, does not grow old, does not die. It has in itself nothing whatever that is subject to the body, but to him who uses it nothing happens that either brings death, or alters his age, or impairs his health.'
When I heard this, daughter, I began to be all the more faint with desire for that pearl and garment; and, as I lay prostrate, with unceasing weeping and intent prayer I began to beseech the young man, saying: 'Holy Lord, have mercy on my prayer and have mercy on the anxiety of my life; for if you do not grant me this garment and pearl, I shall be wretched: I shall lose my daughter while she yet lives. For the sake of this pearl and garment I am willing to go into exile. You know, Lord, that I do not lie to you.' After he had heard my voice, he bids me rise and says to me: 'Your prayers and tears have moved me, and it is well that you have believed this.
And because you have said that for the sake of this pearl you are willing to spend your very life, I cannot deny it to you; but you must know my purpose and my will. The garment which I shall give is of such a kind that, if anyone should wish to use another garment, coloured and silken and gilded, he cannot receive this garment of mine. But I will give it to her who is content to be clothed in plain attire, in native colours, and in unexpensive weave, so that, for custom's sake, the garment may have a very narrow strip of purple, but the purple itself may not be spread abroad over the garment.
But the pearl which you ask of me is of such a nature that no one can possess it who has possessed another pearl; for other pearls are either of the earth or of the sea, but mine, as you yourself see, is beautiful and precious, incomparable and heavenly, and does not deign to be there where others are. For my things do not agree with the things of man, because he who uses my garment and pearl is forever whole — he does not burn with fever, is not open to wounding, is not altered by the years, is not dissolved by death — but equal and eternal. Yet I will give this garment and this pearl of mine to you who ask, that you may bring it to your daughter. But first you must know what your daughter wills.
'If she makes herself worthy of this garment and this pearl of mine — that is, if she is unwilling to possess silken robes, or gilded ones, or ones dyed in colours, and if she hates every other pearl — then I shall grant you these things which you ask of me.' After that word, my daughter, I rose up rejoicing, and holding it in secret I composed this letter to you, imploring you through my many tears to keep yourself for this garment and this pearl, and not to make a wretched old man suffer such loss by your fault, should you fail to obtain this garment and this pearl. I call to witness for you, my daughter, the God of heaven and earth, that nothing is more precious than this pearl and this garment, and that it is within your right to possess it. Only you, whenever another garment is offered to you, whether dyed or silken or gilded, say to the one who offers it to you:
'I am waiting for another garment, for whose sake my father has journeyed so long away from me, which he seeks for me, and which I cannot have if I have this one. The wool of my own sheep is enough for me; the colour that nature has bestowed is enough for me; a plain, unlavish weave is enough for me. But I long for that garment which is said never to be consumed, never to wear thin, never to be torn.' And truly, if a pearl be offered to you, whether to hang about your neck or to be fitted to your finger, you shall say thus: 'Let not these useless and sordid pearls be a hindrance to me; I await that most beautiful and most precious and most useful one — I trust my father, since he too has trusted him who made the pledge to him — for whose sake he has signified to me that he is even willing to die.
This I await, this I long for, which shall bestow on me salvation and eternity.' Master, my daughter, come to the aid of my anxiety, and read this my letter always, and keep yourself for this garment and this pearl. And do you yourself write back to me, questioning no one, in whatever letters you are able, whether you will keep yourself for this garment and this pearl, that I may know what to answer that young man, and that, if you long for her and await her, I may joyfully plan my return to you. And when you have written back to me, then I too shall make known to you who this young man is, and of what sort he is, and what he wills, and what he promises, and what he is able to do. Meanwhile I have sent you a morning and an evening hymn, that you might always be mindful of me.
But you, if perchance by reason of your age you understand the hymn and the letter but little, ask your mother, who desires that she may have borne you unto God by her own conduct. May God, who begot you, guard you here and unto eternity — this I pray, my most beloved daughter. Amen. I. O SPLENDID GIVER OF LIGHT. O splendid Giver of light, by the radiance of whose word, after the seasons of the fallen night have passed, the day is poured back and opened wide: Thou art the true Morning-star of the world, not that one which, as herald of the coming light of a small star, shines with a narrow gleam, but brighter than the whole sun, thyself wholly light and day, illumining the inmost recesses of our heart. Be present, O Founder of all things, glory of the paternal light, whose grace once withdrawn, our bodies grow pale with dread. And, full of thy Spirit, bearing God within themselves,
that they may not lie open to the dread deceits of the ravening deceiver, that amid the acts of this world which the use of life demands, being free of every crime, we may live by thy laws. Let the chastity of the mind conquer the shameful lusts of the flesh, and let the spirit keep the holy shrine of the pure body. This is the hope of the praying soul, these are its votive gifts: that the morning light may be for us a keeping-watch against the night. Glory be to thee, O Lord, glory to the Only-begotten, with the Spirit, the Paraclete, now and through every age. Amen. II. VERSES ON PENITENCE.
To the bright stars of heaven I am not worthy to lift up my unhappy eyes, weighed down by the heavy burden of my sins — spare me, O Redeemer! The good I neglected to do, which I ought to have done; shameful crimes I committed without end; I have wrought wickedness bounded by no limit — come to my aid, O Christ! All the sands that lie upon the salt sea-shore, mingled with purple shells, cannot be made equal to my vices, I confess, to my evils. I grieve, pierced through by the many darts of sins, by the bow which the Venus of lust, its barbs anointed, hurled, abounding in deadly gall. The demon poured flaming arrows from his quiver, heaped wound upon my wound; at once foul desire inflicted them, with wrinkled and shameless brow.
I have been made vile above all vile things; pride came stealthily with its sword and, with bloody hand, fixed its blade-point deep within my heart. The serpent's brood, envy, was at hand, bearing cups of pestilent poison; it gave me over to thirst; that filthy plague became the author of death. Discord, horrid of countenance, bearing a torch kindled with sulphurous fire, set it beneath my breast in its midst, and scorched it bitterly. Among these too, empty glory, bearing feathered wings, flew swiftly past, striving to make me perish suddenly by its windy deceit. Gluttony came with piping flute, urging the goods of the present time; it stretched my belly, rendered me drunken, mixed in laughter. Now permit me, O Lord, to mourn the evils which I, guilty, have committed from infancy; may thy grace grant me tears from the depths of my heart.
For my vices, as I think, the torments of Tartarus, many though they be, are not sufficient — unless thy mercy, O Christ, come to my aid, a wretch. No sin upon the face of the earth, nor any wickedness whatsoever, can be found by whose dregs I am not defiled — unhappy I! O rising and setting, north wind and north, heaven and earth, sea, springs and rivers, mountains and hills, plains, lilies mingled with little roses — weep! Lament with me, ye glittering stars; bellow with me, ye beasts of the woodland; say: 'Thou art wretched, who groanest under an impious crime.' Who can snatch me from the hand of flame-vomiting Cocytus, save the only Offspring of the Father, who by his precious blood, by right, redeemed the world?
O Redeemer of the world, sole hope of all, equal to the Father and the Holy Spirit, God threefold and one, invisible — come to my aid! If thou weigh me in a fine balance, no hope of confidence remains in me; but I pray, save me by thy power, O Son of God. Take away my sin, wash away my crimes, cleanse my filth, and by the gift of thy graces mercifully restore my poor little heart by thy bounty. I beg pardon, trusting not in my own merits, but assured of thy clemency, who freely bestowest good things on the guilty with thy wonted love. O Christ, thee have I always confessed with my lips in right faith, and believed with an orthodox heart; the doctrine of heretics, that impiety, I have spurned with a pure breast. Chanting a hymn with faithful throat, I reject Arius, barking Sabellius; never have I assented to grunting Simon with whispering mouth.
For Christ's name I have been zealous with zeal, for holy mother Church has nourished me through all time with catholic milk from her sacred breast. Glory to the sole holy Trinity: to God the Father, to the Begotten, to the Paraclete; may my praise ever resound in my mouth to the Lord through the ages.