Epistle XV.
To Moyses and Maximus, and the Rest of
the Confessors.
Argument.—The Burden of This Letter is Given in Epistle XXXI. Below, Where the Roman Clergy Say: “On Which Subject We Owe You, and Give You Our Deepest and Abundant Thanks, that You Threw Light into the Gloom of Their Prison by Your Letters.”
1. Cyprian to Moyses and Maximus, the
presbyters and the other confessors, his brethren, greeting. Celerinus, a companion both of your faith and virtue, and God’s soldier in glorious engagements, has come to me, beloved brethren, and represented all of you, as well as each individual, forcibly to my affection. I beheld in him, when he came, the whole of you; and when he spoke sweetly and often of your love to me, in his words I heard you. I rejoice very greatly when such things are brought to me from you by such men as he. In a certain manner I am also there with you in prison. I think that I who am thus bound to your hearts, enjoy with you the delights of the divine approval. Your individual love associates me with your honour; the Spirit does not allow our love to be separated. Confession shuts you up in prison; affection shuts me up there. And I indeed, remembering you day and night, both when in the sacrifices I offer prayer with many, and when in retirement I pray with private petition, beseech of the Lord a full acknowledgment to your crowns and your praises. But my poor ability is too weak to recompense you; you give more when you remember me in prayer, since, already breathing only celestial things, and meditating only divine things, you ascend to loftier heights, even by the delay of your suffering; and by the long lapse of time, are not wasting, but increasing your glory. A first and single confession makes blessed; you confess as often as, when asked to retire from prison, you prefer the prison with faith and virtue; your praises are as numerous as the days; as the months roll onward, ever your merits increase. He conquers once who suffers at once; but he who continues always battling with punishments, and is not overcome with suffering, is daily crowned.
2. Now, therefore, let magistrates and consuls or
proconsuls go by; let them glory in the ensigns of their yearly
dignity, and in their twelve fasces. Behold, the heavenly dignity
in you is sealed by the brightness of a year’s honour, and
already, in the continuance of its victorious glory, has passed over
the rolling circle of the returning year. The rising sun and the
waning moon enlightened the world; but to you, He who made the sun and
moon was a greater light in your dungeon, and the brightness of Christ
glowing in your hearts and minds, irradiated with that eternal and
brilliant light the gloom of the place of punishment, which to others
was so horrible and deadly. The winter has passed through the
vicissitudes of the months; but you, shut up in prison, were
undergoing, instead of the inclemencies of winter, the winter of
persecution. To the winter succeeded the mildness of spring, rejoicing with roses and crowned with flowers; but to you were present roses and flowers from the delights of paradise, and celestial garlands wreathed your brows. Behold, the summer is fruitful with the fertility of the harvest, and the threshing-floor is filled with grain; but you who have sown glory, reap the fruit of glory, and, placed in the Lord’s threshing-floor, behold the chaff burnt up with unquenchable fire; you yourselves as grains of wheat, winnowed and precious corn, now purged and garnered, regard the dwelling-place of a prison as your granary. Nor is there wanting to the autumn spiritual grace for discharging the duties of the season. The vintage is pressed out of doors, and the grape which shall hereafter flow into the cups is trodden in the presses. You, rich bunches out of the Lord’s vineyard, and branches with fruit already ripe, trodden by the tribulation of worldly pressure, fill your wine-press in the torturing prison, and shed your blood instead of wine; brave to bear suffering, you willingly drink the cup of martyrdom. Thus the year rolls on with the Lord’s servants,—thus is celebrated the vicissitude of the seasons with spiritual deserts, and with celestial rewards.