A trial so long, so continuous, and so uniform, should certainly convince us
of our inability to reach the good by our own efforts. But example teaches
us little. No resemblance is ever so perfect that there is not some slight
difference; and hence we expect that our hope will not be deceived on this
occasion as before. And thus, while the present never satisfies us,
experience dupes us and, from misfortune to misfortune, leads us to death,
their eternal crown.
What is it, then, that this desire and this inability proclaim to us, but
that there was once in man a true happiness of which there now remain to him
only the mark and empty trace, which he in vain tries to fill from all his
surroundings, seeking from things absent the help he does not obtain in
things present? But these are all inadequate, because the infinite abyss can
only be filled by an infinite and immutable object, that is to say, only by
God Himself. He only is our true good, and since we have forsaken him, it