I have read both and I never heard either promote catholic doctrine
What I've read so far of Jeanne Guyon's own writing doesn't seem new age to me.
@Laurina,
@Episkopos,
@amigo de christo,
@Dan Clarkston. When we hear accusations of others we need to keep in mind that people (especially religious) often will criticize, apply labels, and falsely accuse and regard with suspicion what they have no first hand understanding of. As Jesus is our prime example. But keep in mind that she was also a product of her time, place and personal experience etc.......as we all are without necessarily being "false" witnesses.
Here are some poems she wrote while imprisoned as a heretic in the most miserable conditions of that time and basically left to rot in filth and disease. A middle aged woman, who had been raised in luxury when young. I think these speak for themselves....the proof in the pudding. To me these poems demonstrate a soul wholly submitted to the Lord and blessed by Him, in a state of overcoming. But everyone can discern for themselves:
Poems Written In Prison
Prison Walls
Strong are the walls around me,
That hold me all the day;
But they who thus have bound me,
Cannot keep God away:
My very dungeon walls are dear,
Because the God I love is here.
They know, who thus oppress me,
'Tis hard to be alone;
But know not one can bless me,
Who comes through bars and stone;
He makes my dungeon's darkness bright,
And fills my bosom with delight.
Thy love, O God, restores me
From sighs and tears to praise;
And deep my soul adores thee,
Nor thinks of time or place;
I ask no more, in good or ill,
But union with Thy holy will.
'Tis that which makes my treasure,
'Tis that which brings me gain;
Converting woe to pleasure,
And reaping joy from pain:
O 'tis enough, whate'er befall,
To know that God is All in All.
The Entire Surrender
Peace has unveiled her smiling face,
And woos thy soul to her embrace;
Enjoyed with ease, if thou refrain,
From selfish love, else sought in vain;
She dwells with all who truth prefer,
But seeks not them, who seek not her.
Yield to the Lord with simple heart,
All that thou hast, and all thou art;
Renounce all strength but strength Divine,
And peace shall be for ever thine;
Behold the path that Jesus trod...
My path till I go home to God.
Love Constitutes My Crime
Love constitutes my Crime,
For this they keep me here,
Imprisoned thus so long a time
For Him I hold so dear;
And yet I am, as when I came,
The subject of this holy flame.
How can I better grow,
How from my own heart fly?
Those who imprison me should know
True love can never die:
Yea, tread and crush it with disdain,
And it will live and burn again.
And am I then to blame?
He's always in my sight;
And having once inspired the flame,
He always keeps it bright:
For this they spite me and reprove,
Because I cannot cease to love.
What power shall dim its ray?
Dropped burning from above!
Eternal life shall ne'er decay;
God is the life of love;
And when its source of life is o'er,
And only then, twill shine no more.
The Light Above Us
There is a light in yonder skies,
A light unseen by outward eyes;
But bright and clear to inward sense,
It shines, the star of Providence.
The radiance of the central throne,
It comes from God and God alone;
The ray that never yet grew pale,
The star that "Shines within the veil."
And faith, unchecked by earthly fears,
Shall lift its eyes, though filled with tears,
And while around It is dark as night,
Untired, shall mark that heavenly light.
In vain they smite me, men but do
What God permits with different view;
To outward sight they wield the rod,
But faith proclaims it all of God.
Unmoved then, let me keep my way,
Supported by that cheering ray,
Which shining distant, renders clear
The clouds and darkness gathering near.
A Little Bird Am I
A little bird I am
Shut from the fields of air;
And in my cage I sit and sing
To Him who placed me there;
Well pleased a prisoner to be,
Because, my God it pleases Thee.
Nought have I else to do,
I sing the whole day long;
And He whom most I love to please,
Doth listen to my song;
He caught and bound my wandering wing,
But still He bends to hear me sing.
Thou hast an ear to hear,
A heart to love and bless;
And though my notes were e'er so crude,
Thou wouldst not hear the less;
Because Thou knowest as they fall,
That love, sweet love, inspires them all.
My cage confines me round,
Abroad I cannot flee;
But though my wing is closely bound,
My heart's at liberty.
My prison walls cannot control
The flight, the freedom of the soul.
Oh! it is good to soar
These bolts and bars above,
To Him whose purpose I adore,
Whose providence I love;
And in Thy mighty will to find
The joy, the freedom of the mind.