One day I hope to get round to reading Augustine’s Confessions (the story of his journey to faith in Christ). Until then, I’ll be content with snippets like this:
Augustine Confessions X.27
Late have I loved you,
Beauty so ancient and so new,
late have I loved you!
Lo, you were within,
but I outside, seeking there for you,
and upon the shapely things you have made
I rushed headlong,
You were with me, but I was not with you.
They held me back far from you,
those things which would have no being
Were they not in you.
You called, shouted, broke through my deafness;
you flared, blazed, banished my blindness;
you lavished your fragrance, I gasped, and now I pant for you;
I tasted you, and I hunger and thirst;
you touched me, and I burned for your peace.
Isn’t that last paragraph an evocatively beautiful picture of the new birth?