spiritual canticle of the soul and the bridegroom christ
BY
ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS
TRANSLATED BY
DAVID LEWIS
WITH CORRECTIONS AND AN INTRODUCTION BY
BENEDICT ZIMMERMAN, O.C.D.
Prior of St. Lukes, Wincanton
June 28, 1909
This Electronic Text is in the Public Domain
INTRODUCTION
THE present volume of the works of St. John of the Cross contains the
explanation of the œSpiritual Canticle of the Soul and the Bridegroom
Christ. The two earlier works, the œAscent of Mount Carmel and the œDark
Night of the Soul, dealt with the cleansing of the soul, the unremittant
war against even the smallest imperfections standing in the way of union
with God; imperfections which must be removed, partly by strict
self-discipline, partly by the direct intervention of God, Who, searching
œthe reins and hearts by means of heavy interior and exterior trials,
purges away whatever is displeasing to Him. Although some stanzas refer to
this preliminary state, the chief object of the œSpiritual Canticle is to
picture under the Biblical simile of Espousals and Matrimony the blessedness
of a soul that has arrived at union with God.
The Canticle was composed during the long imprisonment St. John underwent at
Toledo from the beginning of December 1577 till the middle of August of the
following year. Being one of the principal supporters of the Reform of St.
Teresa, he was also one of the victims of the war waged against her work by
the Superiors of the old branch of the Order. St. Johns prison was a
narrow, stifling cell, with no window, but only a small loophole through
which a ray of light entered for a short time of the day, just long enough
to enable him to say his office, but affording little facility for reading
or writing. However, St. John stood in no need of books. Having for many
years meditated on every word of Holy Scripture, the Word of God was deeply
written in his heart, supplying abundant food for conversation with God
during the whole period of his imprisonment. From time to time he poured
forth his soul in poetry; afterwards he communicated his verses to friends.
One of these poetical works, the fruit of his imprisonment, was the
Spiritual Canticle, which, as the reader will notice, is an abridged
paraphrase of the Canticle of Canticles, the Song of Solomon, wherein under
the image of passionate love are described the mystical sufferings and
longings of a soul enamored with God.
From the earliest times the Fathers and Doctors of the Church had recognized
the mystical character of the Canticle, and the Church had largely utilized
it in her liturgy. But as there is nothing so holy but that it may be
abused, the Canticle almost more than any other portion of Holy Scripture,
had been misinterpreted by a false Mysticism, such as was rampant in the
middle of the sixteenth century. It had come to pass, said the learned and
saintly Augustinian, Fray Luis de Leon, that that which was given as a
medicine was turned into poison, [1] so that the Ecclesiastical authority,
by the Index of 1559, forbade the circulation of the Bible or parts of the
Bible in any but the original languages, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin; and no
one knew better than Luis de Leon himself how rigorously these rules were
enforced, for he had to expiate by nearly five years imprisonment the
audacity of having translated into Castilian the Canticle of Canticles. [2]
Again, one of the confessors of St. Teresa, commonly thought to have been
the Dominican, Fray Diego de Yanguas, on learning that the Saint had written
a book on the Canticle, ordered her to throw it into the fire, so that we
now only possess a few fragments of her work, which, unknown to St. Teresa,
had been copied by a nun.
It will now be understood that St. Johns poetical paraphrase of the
Canticle must have been welcome to many contemplative souls who desired to
kindle their devotion with the words of Solomon, but were unable to read
them in Latin. Yet the text alone, without explanation, would have helped
them little; and as no one was better qualified than the author to throw
light on the mysteries hidden under oriental imagery, the Venerable Ann of
Jesus, Prioress of the Carmelite convent at Granada, requested St. John to
write a commentary on his verses. [3] He at first excused himself, saying
that he was no longer in that state of spiritual exuberance in which he had
been when composing the Canticle, and that there only remained to him a
confused recollection of the wonderful operations of Divine grace during the
period of his imprisonment. Ann of Jesus was not satisfied with this answer;
she not only knew that St. John had lost nothing of his fervor, though he
might no longer experience the same feelings, but she remembered what had
happened to St. Teresa under similar circumstances, and believed the same
thing might happen to St. John. When St. Teresa was obliged to write on some
mystical phenomena, the nature of which she did not fully understand, or
whose effect she had forgotten, God granted her unexpectedly a repetition of
her former experiences so as to enable her to fully study the matter and
report on it. [4] Venerable Ann of Jesus felt sure that if St. John
undertook to write an explanation of the Canticle he would soon find himself
in the same mental attitude as when he composed it.
St. John at last consented, and wrote the work now before us. The following
letter, which has lately come to light, gives some valuable information of
its composition. The writer, Magdalen of the Holy Spirit, nun of Veas, where
she was professed on August 6, 1577, was intimately acquainted with the
Saint.
When the holy father escaped from prison, he took with him a book of poetry
he had written while there, containing the verses commencing ˜In the
beginning was the Word, and those others: ˜I know the fountain well which
flows and runs, though it is night, and the canticle, ˜Where have you
hidden yourself? as far as ˜O nymphs of Judea (stanza
XVIII.). The
remaining verses he composed later on while rector of the college of Baeza
(15791 “ 81), while some of the explanations were written at Veas at the
request of the nuns, and others at Granada. The Saint wrote this book in
prison and afterwards left it at Veas, where it was handed to me to make
some copies of it. Later on it was taken away from my cell, and I never knew
who took it. I was much struck with the vividness and the beauty and
subtlety of the words. One day I asked the Saint whether God had given him
these words which so admirably explain those mysteries, and He answered:
˜Child, sometimes God gave them to me, and at other times I sought them
myself. [5]
The autograph of St. Johns work which is preserved at Jaén bears the
following title:
Explanation of Stanzas treating of the exercise of love between the soul
and Jesus Christ its Spouse, dealing with and commenting on certain points
and effects of prayer; written at the request of Mother Ann of Jesus,
prioress of the Discalced Carmelite nuns of St. Josephs convent, Granada,
1584.
As might be expected, the author dedicated the book to Ann of Jesus, at
whose request he had written it. Thus, he began his Prologue with the
following words: Inasmuch as this canticle, Reverend Mother (Religiosa
Madre), seems to have been written, etc. A little further on he said: The
stanzas that follow, having been written under the influence of that love
which proceeds from the overflowing mystical intelligence, cannot be fully
explained. Indeed, I do not purpose any such thing, for my sole purpose is
to throw some general light over them, since Your Reverence has asked me to
do so, and since this, in my opinion too, is the better course. And again:
I shall, however, pass over the more ordinary (effects of prayer), and
treat briefly of the more extraordinary to which they are subject who, by
the mercy of God, have advanced beyond the state of beginners. This I do for
two reasons: the first is that much is already written concerning beginners;
and the second is that I am addressing myself to Your Reverence at your own
bidding; for you have received from Our Lord the grace of being led on from
the elementary state and led inwards to the bosom of His divine love. He
continues thus: I therefore trust, though I may discuss some points of
scholastic theology relating to the interior commerce of the soul with God,
that I am not using such language altogether in vain, and that it will be
found profitable for pure spirituality. For though Your Reverence is
ignorant of scholastic theology, you are by no means ignorant of mystical
theology, the science of love, etc.
From these passages it appears quite clearly that the Saint wrote the book
for Venerable Ann of Jesus and the nuns of her convent. With the exception
of an edition published at Brussels in 1627, these personal allusions have
disappeared from both the Spanish text and the translations, [6] nor are
they to be found in Mr. Lewiss version. There cannot be the least doubt
that they represent St. Johns own intention, for they are to be found in
his original manuscript. This, containing, in several parts, besides the
Explanation of the Spiritual Canticle, various poems by the Saint, was given
by him to Ann of Jesus, who in her turn committed it to the care of one of
her nuns, Isabelle of the Incarnation, who took it with her to Baeza, where
she remained eleven years, and afterwards to Jaén, where she founded a
convent of which she became the first prioress. She there caused the
precious manuscript to be bound in red velvet with silver clasps and gilt
edges. It still was there in 1876, and, for all we know, remains to the
present day in the keeping of the said convent. It is a pity that no
photographic edition of the writings of St. John (so far as the originals
are preserved) has yet been attempted, for there is need for a critical
edition of his works.
The following is the division of the work: Stanzas I. to IV. are
introductory; V. to XII. refer to the contemplative life in its earlier
stages; XIII. to XXI., dealing with what the Saint calls the Espousals,
appertain to the Unitive way, where the soul is frequently, but not
habitually, admitted to a transient union with God; and XXII. to the end
describe what he calls Matrimony, the highest perfection a soul can attain
this side of the grave. The reader will find an epitome of the whole system
of mystical theology in the explanation of Stanza XXVI.
This work differs in many respects from the Ascent and the Dark Night.
Whereas these are strictly systematic, preceding on the line of relentless
logic, the Spiritual Canticle, as a poetical work ought to do, soars high
above the divisions and distinctions of the scholastic method. With a
boldness akin to that of his Patron Saint, the Evangelist, St. John rises to
the highest heights, touching on a subject that should only be handled by a
Saint, and which the reader, were he a Saint himself, will do well to treat
cautiously: the partaking by the human soul of the Divine Nature, or, as St.
John calls it, the Deification of the soul (Stanza XXVI. sqq.), These are
regions where the ordinary mind threatens to turn; but St. John, with the
knowledge of what he himself had experienced, not once but many times, what
he had observed in others, and what, above all, he had read of in Holy
Scripture, does not shrink from lifting the veil more completely than
probably any Catholic writer on mystical theology has done. To pass in
silence the last wonders of Gods love for fear of being misunderstood,
would have been tantamount to ignoring the very end for which souls are led
along the way of perfection; to reveal these mysteries in human language,
and say all that can be said with not a word too much, not an uncertain or
misleading line in the picture: this could only have been accomplished by
one whom the Church has already declared to have been taught by God Himself
(divinitus instructus), and whose books She tells us are filled with
heavenly wisdom (coelesti sapientia refertos). It is hoped that sooner or
later She will proclaim him (what many grave authorities think him to be) a
Doctor of the Church, namely, the Doctor of Mystical theology. [7]
As has already been noticed in the Introduction to the Ascent, the whole
of the teaching of St. John is directly derived from Holy Scripture and from
the psychological principles of St. Thomas Aquinas. There is no trace to be
found of an influence of the Mystics of the Middle Age, with whose writings
St. John does not appear to have been acquainted. But throughout this
treatise there are many obvious allusions to the writings of St. Teresa, nor
will the reader fail to notice the encouraging remark about the publication
of her works (stanza xiii, sect. 8). The fact is that the same Venerable Ann
of Jesus who was responsible for the composition of St. Johns treatise was
at the same time making preparations for the edition of St. Teresas works
which a few years later appeared at Salamanca under the editorship of Fray
Luis de Leon, already mentioned.
Those of his readers who have been struck with, not to say frightened by,
the exactions of St. John in the Ascent and the Dark Night, where he
demands complete renunciation of every kind of satisfaction and pleasure,
however legitimate in themselves, and an entire mortification of the senses
as well as the faculties and powers of the soul, and who have been wondering
at his self-abnegation which caused him not only to accept, but even to
court contempt, will find here the clue to this almost inhuman attitude. In
his response to the question of Our Lord, What shall I give you for all you
have done and suffered for Me? Lord, to suffer and be despised for
You
” he was not animated by grim misanthropy or stoic indifference, but he had
learned that in proportion as the human heart is emptied of Self, after
having been emptied of all created things, it is open to the influx of
Divine grace. This he fully proves in the Spiritual Canticle. To be made
partaker of the Divine Nature, as St. Peter says, human nature must
undergo a radical transformation. Those who earnestly study the teaching of
St. John in his earlier treatises and endeavor to put his recommendations
into practice, will see in this and the next volume an unexpected
perspective opening before their eyes, and they will begin to understand how
it is that the sufferings of this time ” whether voluntary or involuntary
” are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come that shall be
revealed in us.
Mr. Lewiss masterly translation of the works of St. John of the Cross
appeared in 1864 under the auspices of Cardinal Wiseman. In the second
edition, of 1889, he made numerous changes, without, however, leaving a
record of the principles that guided him. Sometimes, indeed, the revised
edition is terser than the first, but just as often the old one seems
clearer. It is more difficult to understand the reasons that led him to
alter very extensively the text of quotations from Holy Scripture. In the
first edition he had nearly always strictly adhered to the Douay version,
which is the one in official use in the Catholic Church in English-speaking
countries. It may not always be as perfect as one would wish it to be, but
it must be acknowledged that the wholesale alteration in Mr. Lewiss second
edition is, to say the least, puzzling. Even the Stanzas have undergone many
changes in the second edition, and it will be noticed that there are some
variants in their text as set forth at the beginning of the book, and as
repeated at the heading of each chapter.
The present edition, allowing for some slight corrections, is a reprint of
that of 1889.
Benedict Zimmerman, Prior, O.C.D.
St. Lukes, Wincanton, Somerset,
Feast of St. Simon Stock,
May 16, 1909.
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[1] ˜Los nombres de Cristo. Introduction.
[2] This exceptionally severe legislation, justified by the dangers of the
time, only held good for Spain and the Spanish colonies, and has long since
been revised. It did not include the Epistles and Gospels, Psalms, Passion,
and other parts of the daily service.
[3] Ann de Lobera, born at Medina del Campo, November 25, 1545, was a
deaf-mute until her eighth year. When she applied for admission to the
Carmelite convent at Avila St. Teresa promised to receive her not so much as
a novice, but as her companion and future successor; she took the habit
August 1, 1570, and made her profession at Salamanca, October 21, 1571. She
became the first prioress of Veas, and was entrusted by St. Teresa with the
foundation of Granada (January 1582), where she found St. John of the Cross,
who was prior of the convent of The Martyrs (well known to visitors of the
Alhambra although no longer a convent). St. John not only became the
director and confessor of the convent of nuns, but remained the most
faithful helper and the staunchest friend of Mother Ann throughout the heavy
trials which marred many years of her life. In 1604 she went to Paris, to
found the first convent of her Order in France, and in 1607 she proceeded to
Brussels, where she remained until her death, March 4, 1621, The heroic
nature of her virtues having been acknowledged, she was declared
˜Venerable in 1878, and it is hoped that she will soon be beatified.
[4] See ˜Life of St. Teresa: ed. Baker (London, I904), ch. xiv. 12, xvi. 2,
xviii. 10.
[5] ˜Manuel Serrano y Sanz, Apuntos para una Biblioteca de Escritores
españoles. (1903, p. 399).
[6] Cf. Berthold-Ignace de Sainte Anne, ˜Vie de la Mère Anne de
Jésui
(Malines, 1876), I. 343 ff.
[7] On this subject see Fray Eulogio de San José, ˜Doctorado de Santa Teresa
de Jesús y de San Juan de la Cruz. Córdoba, 1896.
_________________________________________________________________
A SPIRITUAL CANTICLE OF THE SOUL AND THE BRIDEGROOM CHRIST [8]
PROLOGUE
INASMUCH as this canticle seems to have been written with some fervor of
love of God, whose wisdom and love are, as is said in the book of Wisdom,
[9] so vast that they reach from end to end, and as the soul, taught and
moved by Him, manifests the same abundance and strength in the words it
uses, I do not purpose here to set forth all that greatness and fullness the
spirit of love, which is fruitful, embodies in it. Yes, rather it would be
foolishness to think that the language of love and the mystical intelligence
” and that is what these stanzas are ” can be at all explained in words of
any kind, for the Spirit of our Lord who helps our weakness ” as St. Paul
says [10] ” dwelling in us makes petitions for us with groaning unutterable
for that which we cannot well understand or grasp so as to be able to make
it known. The Spirit helps our infirmity . . . the Spirit Himself requests
for us with groanings unspeakable. For who can describe that which He shows
to loving souls in whom He dwells? Who can set forth in words that which He
makes them feel? and, lastly, who can explain that for which they long?
2. Assuredly no one can do it; not even they themselves who experience it.
That is the reason why they use figures of special comparisons and
similitudes; they hide somewhat of that which they feel and in the abundance
of the Spirit utter secret mysteries rather than express themselves in clear
words.
3. And if these similitudes are not received in the simplicity of a loving
mind, and in the sense in which they are uttered, they will seem to be
effusions of folly rather than the language of reason; as anyone may see in
the divine Canticle of Solomon, and in others of the sacred books, wherein
the Holy Spirit, because ordinary and common speech could not convey His
meaning, uttered His mysteries in strange terms and similitudes. It follows
from this, that after all that the holy doctors have said, and may say, no
words of theirs can explain it; nor can words do it; and so, in general, all
that is said falls far short of the meaning.
4. The stanzas that follow having been written under influence of that love
which proceeds from the overflowing mystical intelligence, cannot be fully
explained. Indeed I do not purpose any such thing, for my sole object is to
throw some general light over them, which in my opinion is the better
course. It is better to leave the outpourings of love in their own fullness,
that everyone may apply them according to the measure of his spirit and
power, than to pare them down to one particular sense which is not suited to
the taste of everyone. And though I do put forth a particular explanation,
still others are not to be bound by it. The mystical wisdom ” that is, the
love, of which these stanzas speak ” does not require to be distinctly
understood in order to produce the effect of love and tenderness in the
soul, for it is in this respect like faith, by which we love God without a
clear comprehension of Him.
5. I shall therefore be very concise, though now and then unable to avoid
some prolixity where the subject requires it, and when the opportunity is
offered of discussing and explaining certain points and effects of prayer:
many of which being referred to in these stanzas, I must discuss some of
them. I shall, however, pass over the more ordinary ones, and treat briefly
of the more extraordinary to which they are subject who, by the mercy of
God, have advanced beyond the state of beginners. This I do for two reasons:
the first is, that much is already written concerning beginners; and the
second is, that I am addressing those who have received from our Lord the
grace of being led on from the elementary state and are led inwards to the
bosom of His divine love.
6. I therefore trust, though I may discuss some points of scholastic
theology relating to the interior commerce of the soul with God, that I am
not using such language altogether in vain, and that it will be found
profitable for pure spirituality. For though some may be altogether ignorant
of scholastic theology by which the divine verities are explained, yet they
are not ignorant of mystical theology, the science of love, by which those
verities are not only learned, but at the same time are relished also.
7. And in order that what I am going to say may be the better received, I
submit myself to higher judgments, and unreservedly to that of our holy
mother the Church, intending to say nothing in reliance on my own personal
experience, or on what I have observed in other spiritual persons, nor on
what I have heard them say ” though I intend to profit by all this ” unless
I can confirm it with the sanction of the divine writings, at least on those
points which are most difficult of comprehension.
8. The method I propose to follow in the matter is this: first of all, to
cite the words of the text and then to give that explanation of them which
belongs to the subject before me. I shall now transcribe all the stanzas and
place them at the beginning of this treatise. In the next place, I shall
take each of them separately, and explain them line by line, each line in
its proper place before the explanation.
_________________________________________________________________
[8] [This canticle was made by the Saint when he was in the prison of the
Mitigation, in Toledo. It came into the hands of the Venerable Anne of
Jesus, at whose request he wrote the following commentary on it, and
addressed it to her.]
[9] Wisdom 8:1
[10] Rom. 8:26
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SONG OF THE SOUL AND THE BRIDEGROOM
I
THE BRIDE
Where have You hidden Yourself,
And abandoned me in my groaning, O my Beloved?
You have fled like the hart,
Having wounded me.
I ran after You, crying; but You were gone.
II
O shepherds, you who go
Through the sheepcots up the hill,
If you shall see Him
Whom I love the most,
Tell Him I languish, suffer, and die.
III
In search of my Love
I will go over mountains and strands;
I will gather no flowers,
I will fear no wild beasts;
And pass by the mighty and the frontiers.
IV
O groves and thickets
Planted by the hand of the Beloved;
O verdant meads
Enameled with flowers,
Tell me, has He passed by you?
V
ANSWER OF THE CREATURES
A thousand graces diffusing
He passed through the groves in haste,
And merely regarding them
As He passed
Clothed them with His beauty.
VI
THE BRIDE
Oh! who can heal me?
Give me at once Yourself,
Send me no more
A messenger
Who cannot tell me what I wish.
VII
All they who serve are telling me
Of Your unnumbered graces;
And all wound me more and more,
And something leaves me dying,
I know not what, of which they are darkly speaking.
VIII
But how you persevere, O life,
Not living where you live;
The arrows bring death
Which you receive
From your conceptions of the Beloved.
IX
Why, after wounding
This heart, have You not healed it?
And why, after stealing it,
Have You thus abandoned it,
And not carried away the stolen prey?
X
Quench my troubles,
For no one else can soothe them;
And let my eyes behold You,
For You are their light,
And I will keep them for You alone.
XI
Reveal Your presence,
And let the vision and Your beauty kill me,
Behold the malady
Of love is incurable
Except in Your presence and before Your face.
XII
O crystal well!
Oh that on Your silvered surface
You would mirror forth at once
Those eyes desired
Which are outlined in my heart!
XIII
Turn them away, O my Beloved!
I am on the wing:
THE BRIDEGROOM
Return, My Dove!
The wounded hart
Looms on the hill
In the air of your flight and is refreshed.
XIV
My Beloved is the mountains,
The solitary wooded valleys,
The strange islands,
The roaring torrents,
The whisper of the amorous gales;
XV
The tranquil night
At the approaches of the dawn,
The silent music,
The murmuring solitude,
The supper which revives, and enkindles love.
XVI
Catch us the foxes,
For our vineyard has flourished;
While of roses
We make a nosegay,
And let no one appear on the hill.
XVII
O killing north wind, cease!
Come, south wind, that awakens love!
Blow through my garden,
And let its odors flow,
And the Beloved shall feed among the flowers.
XVIII
O nymphs of Judea!
While amid the flowers and the rose-trees
The amber sends forth its perfume,
Tarry in the suburbs,
And touch not our thresholds.
XIX
Hide yourself, O my Beloved!
Turn Your face to the mountains,
Do not speak,
But regard the companions
Of her who is traveling amidst strange islands.
XX
THE BRIDEGROOM
Light-winged birds,
Lions, fawns, bounding does,
Mountains, valleys, strands,
Waters, winds, heat,
And the terrors that keep watch by night;
XXI
By the soft lyres
And the siren strains, I adjure you,
Let your fury cease,
And touch not the wall,
That the bride may sleep in greater security.
XXII
The bride has entered
The pleasant and desirable garden,
And there reposes to her hearts content;
Her neck reclining
On the sweet arms of the Beloved.
XXIII
Beneath the apple-tree
There were you betrothed;
There I gave you My hand,
And you were redeemed
Where your mother was corrupted.
XXIV
THE BRIDE
Our bed is of flowers
By dens of lions encompassed,
Hung with purple,
Made in peace,
And crowned with a thousand shields of gold.
XXV
In Your footsteps
The young ones run Your way;
At the touch of the fire
And by the spiced wine,
The divine balsam flows.
XXVI
In the inner cellar
Of my Beloved have I drunk; and when I went forth
Over all the plain
I knew nothing,
And lost the flock I followed before.
XXVII
There He gave me His breasts,
There He taught me the science full of sweetness.
And there I gave to Him
Myself without reserve;
There I promised to be His bride.
XXVIII
My soul is occupied,
And all my substance in His service;
Now I guard no flock,
Nor have I any other employment:
My sole occupation is love.
XXIX
If, then, on the common land
I am no longer seen or found,
You will say that I am lost;
That, being enamored,
I lost myself; and yet was found.
XXX
Of emeralds, and of flowers
In the early morning gathered,
We will make the garlands,
Flowering in Your love,
And bound together with one hair of my head.
XXXI
By that one hair
You have observed fluttering on my neck,
And on my neck regarded,
You were captivated;
And wounded by one of my eyes.
XXXII
When You regarded me,
Your eyes imprinted in me Your grace:
For this You loved me again,
And thereby my eyes merited
To adore what in You they saw
XXXIII
Despise me not,
For if I was swarthy once
You can regard me now;
Since You have regarded me,
Grace and beauty have You given me.
XXXIV
THE BRIDEGROOM
The little white dove
Has returned to the ark with the bough;
And now the turtle-dove
Its desired mate
On the green banks has found.
XXXV
In solitude she lived,
And in solitude built her nest;
And in solitude, alone
Has the Beloved guided her,
In solitude also wounded with love.
XXXVI
THE BRIDE
Let us rejoice, O my Beloved!
Let us go forth to see ourselves in Your beauty,
To the mountain and the hill,
Where the pure water flows:
Let us enter into the heart of the thicket.
XXXVII
We shall go at once
To the deep caverns of the rock
Which are all secret,
There we shall enter in
And taste of the new wine of the pomegranate.
XXXVIII
There you will show me
That which my soul desired;
And there You will give at once,
O You, my life!
That which You gave me the other day.
XXXIX
The breathing of the air,
The song of the sweet nightingale,
The grove and its beauty
In the serene night,
With the flame that consumes, and gives no pains.
XL
None saw it;
Neither did Aminadab appear
The siege was intermitted,
And the cavalry dismounted
At the sight of the waters.
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ARGUMENT
THESE stanzas describe the career of a soul from its first entrance on the
service of God till it comes to the final state of perfection ” the
spiritual marriage. They refer accordingly to the three states or ways of
the spiritual training ” the purgative, illuminative, and unitive ways, some
properties and effects of which they explain.
The first stanzas relate to beginners ” to the purgative way. The second to
the advanced ” to the state of spiritual betrothal; that is, the
illuminative way. The next to the unitive way ” that of the perfect, the
spiritual Marriage. The unitive way, that of the perfect, follows the
illuminative, which is that of the advanced.
The last stanzas treat of the beatific state, which only the already perfect
soul aims at.
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EXPLANATION OF THE STANZAS
NOTE
THE soul, considering the obligations of its state, seeing that the days of
man are short; [11] that the way of eternal life is straight; [12] that
the just man shall scarcely be saved; [13] that the things of this world
are empty and deceitful; that all die and perish like water poured on the
ground; [14] that time is uncertain, the last account strict, perdition most
easy, and salvation most difficult; and recognizing also, on the other hand,
the great debt that is owing to God, Who has created it solely for Himself,
for which the service of its whole life is due, Who has redeemed it for
Himself alone, for which it owes Him all else, and the correspondence of its
will to His love; and remembering other innumerable blessings for which it
acknowledges itself indebted to God even before it was born: and also that a
great part of its life has been wasted, and that it will have to render an
account of it all from beginning to the end, to the payment of the last
farthing, [15] when God shall search Jerusalem with lamps; [16]
that it
is already late, and perhaps the end of the day: [17] in order to remedy so
great an evil, especially when it is conscious that God is grievously
offended, and that He has hidden His face from it, because it would forget
Him for the creature,-the soul, now touched with sorrow and inward sinking
of the heart at the sight of its imminent risks and ruin, renouncing
everything and casting them aside without delaying for a day, or even an
hour, with fear and groanings uttered from the heart, and wounded with the
love of God, begins to invoke the Beloved and says:
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[11] Job 14:5
[12] Matt. 7:14
[13] 1 Pet. 4:18
[14] 2 Kings 14:14
[15] Matt. 5:26
[16] Sophon, 1. 12.
[17] Matt. 20:6
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STANZA I
THE BRIDE
Where have You hidden Yourself,
And abandoned me to my sorrow, O my Beloved!
You have fled like the hart,
Having wounded me.
I ran after You, crying; but You were gone.
IN this first stanza the soul, enamored of the Word, the Son of God, the
Bridegroom, desiring to be united to Him in the clear and substantial
vision, sets before Him the anxieties of its love, complaining of His
absence. And this the more so because, now pierced and wounded with love,
for which it had abandoned all things, even itself, it has still to endure
the absence of the Beloved, Who has not released it from its mortal flesh,
that it might have the fruition of Him in the glory of eternity. Hence it
cries out,
Where have You hidden Yourself?
2. It is as if the soul said, Show me, O You the Word, my Bridegroom, the
place where You are hidden. It asks for the revelation of the divine
Essence; for the place where the Son of God is hidden is, according to St.
John, the bosom of the Father, [18] which is the divine Essence,
transcending all mortal vision, and hidden from all human understanding, as
Isaiah says, speaking to God, Verily You are a hidden God. [19] From this
we learn that the communication and sense of His presence, however great
they may be, and the most sublime and profound knowledge of God which the
soul may have in this life, are not God essentially, neither have they any
affinity with Him, for in very truth He is still hidden from the soul; and
it is therefore expedient for it, amid all these grandeurs, always to
consider Him as hidden, and to seek Him in His hiding place, saying,
Where have You hidden Yourself?
3. Neither sublime communications nor sensible presence furnish any certain
proof of His gracious presence; nor is the absence thereof, and aridity, any
proof of His absence from the soul. If He come to me, I shall not see Him;
if He depart, I shall not understand. [20] That is, if the soul have any
great communication, or impression, or spiritual knowledge, it must not on
that account persuade itself that what it then feels is to enjoy or see God
clearly and in His Essence, or that it brings it nearer to Him, or Him to
it, however deep such feelings may be. On the other hand, when all these
sensible and spiritual communications fail it, and it is itself in dryness,
darkness, and desolation, it must not on that account suppose that God is
far from it; for in truth the former state is no sign of its being in a
state of grace, nor is the latter a sign that it is not; for man knows not
whether he is worthy of love or hatred [21] in the sight of God.
4. The chief object of the soul in these words is not to ask only for that
affective and sensible devotion, wherein there is no certainty or evidence
of the possession of the Bridegroom in this life; but principally for that
clear presence and vision of His Essence, of which it longs to be assured
and satisfied in the next. This, too, was the object of the bride who, in
the divine song desiring to be united to the Divinity of the Bridegroom
Word, prayed to the Father, saying, Show me where You feed, where You lie
in the midday. [22] For to ask to be shown the place where He fed was to
ask to be shown the Essence of the Divine Word, the Son; because the Father
feeds nowhere else but in His only begotten Son, Who is the glory of the
Father. In asking to be shown the place where He lies in the midday, was to
ask for the same thing, because the Son is the sole delight of the Father,
Who lies in no other place, and is comprehended by no other thing, but in
and by His beloved Son, in Whom He reposes wholly, communicating to Him His
whole Essence, in the midday, which is eternity, where the Father is ever
begetting and the Son ever begotten.
5. This pasture, then, is the Bridegroom Word, where the Father feeds in
infinite glory. He is also the bed of flowers whereupon He reposes with
infinite delight of love, profoundly hidden from all mortal vision and every
created thing. This is the meaning of the bride-soul when she says,
Where have You hidden Yourself?
6. That the thirsty soul may find the Bridegroom, and be one with Him in the
union of love in this life ” so far as that is possible ” and quench its
thirst with that drink which it is possible to drink of at His hands in this
life, it will be as well ” since that is what the Soul asks of Him ” that we
should answer for Him, and point out the special spot where He is hidden,
that He may be found there in that perfection and sweetness of which this
life is capable, and that the soul may not begin to loiter uselessly in the
footsteps of its companions.
7. We must remember that the Word, the Son of God, together with the Father
and the Holy Spirit, is hidden in essence and in presence, in the inmost
being of the soul. That soul, therefore, that will find Him, must go out
from all things in will and affection, and enter into the profoundest
self-recollection, and all things must be to it as if they existed not.
Hence, St. Augustine says: I found You not without, O Lord; I sought You
without in vain, for You are within, [23] God is therefore hidden within
the soul, and the true contemplative will seek Him there in love, saying,
Where have You hidden Yourself?
8. O you soul, then, most beautiful of creatures, who so long to know the
place where your Beloved is, that you may seek Him, and be united to Him,
you know now that you are yourself that very tabernacle where He dwells, the
secret chamber of His retreat where He is hidden. Rejoice, therefore, and
exult, because all your good and all your hope is so near you as to be
within you; or, to speak more accurately, that you can not be without it,
for lo, the kingdom of God is within you. [24] So says the Bridegroom
Himself, and His servant, St. Paul, adds: You are the temple of the living
God. [25] What joy for the soul to learn that God never abandons it, even
in mortal sin; how much less in a state of grace! [26]
9. What more can you desire, what more can you seek without, seeing that
within you have your riches, your delight, your satisfaction, your fullness
and your kingdom; that is, your Beloved, Whom you desire and seek? Rejoice,
then, and be glad in Him with interior recollection, seeing that you have
Him so near. Then love Him, then desire Him, then adore Him, and go not to
seek Him out of yourself, for that will be but distraction and weariness,
and you shall not find Him; because there is no fruition of Him more
certain, more ready, or more intimate than that which is within.
10. One difficulty alone remains: though He is within, yet He is hidden. But
it is a great matter to know the place of His secret rest, that He may be
sought there with certainty. The knowledge of this is that which you ask for
here, O soul, when with loving affection you cry,
Where have You hidden Yourself?
11. You will still urge and say, How is it, then, that I find Him not, nor
feel Him, if He is within my soul? It is because He is hidden, and because
you hide not yourself also that you may find Him and feel Him; for he that
will seek that which is hidden must enter secretly into the secret place
where it is hidden, and when he finds it, he is himself hidden like the
object of his search. Seeing, then, that the Bridegroom whom you love is
the treasure hidden in the field [27] of your soul, for which the wise
merchant gave all that he had, so you, if you will find Him, must forget all
that is yours, withdraw from all created things, and hide yourself in the
secret retreat of the spirit, shutting the door upon yourself ” that is,
denying your will in all things ” and praying to your Father in secret. [28]
Then you, being hidden with Him, will be conscious of His presence in
secret, and will love Him, possess Him in secret, and delight in Him in
secret, in a way that no tongue or language can express.
12. Courage, then, O soul most beautiful, you know now that your Beloved,
Whom you desire, dwells hidden within your breast; strive, therefore, to be
truly hidden with Him, and then you shall embrace Him, and be conscious of
His presence with loving affection. Consider also that He bids you, by the
mouth of Isaiah, to come to His secret hiding-place, saying, Go, . . .
enter into your chambers, shut your doors upon you; that is, all your
faculties, so that no created thing shall enter: be hid a little for a
moment, [29] that is, for the moment of this mortal life; for if now during
this life which is short, you will with all watchfulness keep your
heart, [30] as the wise man says, God will most assuredly give you, as He
has promised by the prophet Isaiah, hidden treasures and mysteries of
secrets. [31] The substance of these secrets is God Himself, for He is the
substance of the faith, and the object of it, and the faith is the secret
and the mystery. And when that which the faith conceals shall be revealed
and made manifest, that is the perfection of God, as St. Paul says, When
that which is perfect is come, [32] then shall be revealed to the soul the
substance and mysteries of these secrets.
13. Though in this mortal life the soul will never reach to the interior
secrets as it will in the next, however much it may hide itself, still, if
it will hide itself with Moses, in the
hole of the rock ” which is a real
imitation of the perfect life of the Bridegroom, the Son of God ” protected
by the right hand of God, it will merit the vision of the back parts; [33]
that is, it will reach to such perfection here, as to be united, and
transformed by love, in the Son of God, its Bridegroom. So effectually will
this be wrought that the soul will feel itself so united to Him, so learned
and so instructed in His secrets, that, so far as the knowledge of Him in
this life is concerned, it will be no longer necessary for it to say: Where
have You hidden Yourself?
14. You know then, O soul, how you are to demean yourself if you will find
the Bridegroom in His secret place. But if you will hear it again, hear this
one word full of substance and unapproachable truth: Seek Him in faith and
love, without seeking to satisfy yourself in anything, or to understand more
than is expedient for you to know; for faith and love are the two guides of
the blind; they will lead you, by a way you know not, to the secret chamber
of God. Faith, the secret of which I am speaking, is the foot that journeys
onwards to God, and love is the guide that directs its steps. And while the
soul meditates on the mysterious secrets of the faith, it will merit the
revelation, on the part of love, of that which the faith involves, namely,
the Bridegroom Whom it longs for, in this life by spiritual grace, and the
divine union, as we said before, [34] and in the next in essential glory,
face to face, hidden now.
15. But meanwhile, though the soul attains to union, the highest state
possible in this life, yet inasmuch as He is still hidden from it in the
bosom of the Father, as I have said, the soul longing for the fruition of
Him in the life to come, ever cries, Where have You hidden Yourself?
16. You do well, then, O soul, in seeking Him always in His secret place;
for you greatly magnify God, and draw near to Him, esteeming Him as far
beyond and above all you can reach. Rest, therefore, neither wholly nor in
part, on what your faculties can embrace; never seek to satisfy yourself
with what you comprehend of God, but rather with what you comprehend not;
and never rest on the love of, and delight in, that which you can understand
and feel, but rather on that which is beyond your understanding and feeling:
this is, as I have said, to seek Him by faith.
17. God is, as I said before, [35] inaccessible and hidden, and though it
may seem that you have found Him, felt Him, and comprehended Him, yet you
must ever regard Him as hidden, serve Him as hidden, in secret. Do not be
like many unwise, who, with low views of God, think that when they cannot
comprehend Him, or be conscious of His presence, that He is then farther
away and more hidden, when the contrary is true, namely, that He is nearer
to them when they are least aware of it; as the prophet David says, He put
darkness His covert, [36] Thus, when you are near to Him, the very
infirmity of your vision makes the darkness palpable; you do well,
therefore, at all times, in prosperity as well as in adversity, spiritual or
temporal, to look upon God as hidden, and to say to Him, Where have You
hidden Yourself?
And left me to my sorrow, O my Beloved?
18. The soul calls Him my Beloved, the more to move Him to listen to its
cry, for God, when loved, most readily listens to the prayer of him who
loves Him. Thus He speaks Himself: If you abide in Me . . . you shall ask
whatever thing you will, and it shall be done to you. [37] The soul may
then with truth call Him Beloved, when it is wholly His, when the heart has
no attachments but Him, and when all the thoughts are continually directed
to Him. It was the absence of this that made Delilah say to Samson, How do
you say you love me when your mind is not with me? [38] The mind comprises
the thoughts and the feelings. Some there are who call the Bridegroom their
Beloved, but He is not really beloved, because their heart is not wholly
with Him. Their prayers are, therefore, not so effectual before God, and
they shall not obtain their petitions until, persevering in prayer, they fix
their minds more constantly upon God and their hearts more wholly in loving
affection upon Him, for nothing can be obtained from God but by love.
19. The words, And left me to my sorrow, tell us that the absence of the
Beloved is the cause of continual sadness in him who loves; for as such a
one loves none else, so, in the absence of the object beloved, nothing can
console or relieve him. This is, therefore, a test to discern the true lover
of God. Is he satisfied with anything less than God? Do I say satisfied?
Yes, if a man possess all things, he cannot be satisfied; the greater his
possessions the less will be his satisfaction, for the satisfaction of the
heart is not found in possessions, but in detachment from all things and in
poverty of spirit. This being so, the perfection of love in which we possess
God, by a grace most intimate and special, lives in the soul in this life
when it has reached it, with a certain satisfaction, which however is not
full, for David, notwithstanding all his perfection, hoped for that in
heaven saying, I shall be satisfied when Your glory shall appear. [39]
20. Thus, then, the peace and tranquillity and satisfaction of heart to
which the soul may attain in this life are not sufficient to relieve it from
its groaning, peaceful and painless though it be, while it hopes for that
which is still wanting. Groaning belongs to hope, as the Apostle says of
himself and others, though perfect, Ourselves also, who have the first
fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for
the adoption of the sons of God. [40] The soul groans when the heart is
enamored, for where love wounds there is heard the groaning of the wounded
one, complaining feelingly of the absence of the Beloved, especially when,
after tasting of the sweet conversation of the Bridegroom, it finds itself
suddenly alone, and in aridity, because He has gone away. That is why it
cries,
You have fled like the hart.
21. Here it is to be observed that in the Canticle of Canticles the bride
compares the Bridegroom to the roe and the hart on the mountains ” My
Beloved is like a roe and to a fawn of harts [41] ” not only because He is
shy, solitary, and avoids companions as the hart, but also for his sudden
appearance and disappearance. That is His way in His visits to devout souls
in order to comfort and encourage them, and in the withdrawing and absence
which He makes them feel after those visits in order to try, humble, and
teach them. For that purpose He makes them feel the pain of His absence most
keenly, as the following words show:
Having wounded me.
22. It is as if it had said, It was not enough that I should feel the pain
and grief which Your absence causes, and from which I am continually
suffering, but You must, after wounding me with the arrow of Your love, and
increasing my longing and desire to see You, run away from me with the
swiftness of the hart, and not permit me to lay hold of You, even for a
moment.
23. For the clearer understanding of this we are to keep in mind that,
beside the many kinds of Gods visits to the soul, in which He wounds it
with love, there are commonly certain secret touches of love, which, like a
fiery arrow, pierce and penetrate the soul, and burn it with the fire of
love. These are properly called the wounds of love, and it is of these the
soul is here speaking. These wounds so inflame the will, that the soul
becomes so enveloped with the fire of love as to appear consumed thereby.
They make it go forth out of itself, and be renewed, and enter on another
life, as the phoenix from the fire.
24. David, speaking of this, says, My heart has been inflamed, and my reins
have been changed; and I am brought to nothing, and I knew not. [42] The
desires and affections, called the reins by the prophet, are all stirred and
divinely changed in this burning of the heart, and the soul, through love,
melted into nothing, knowing nothing but love. At this time the changing of
the reins is a great pain, and longing for the vision of God; it seems to
the soul that God treats it with intolerable severity, so much so that the
severity with which love treats it seems to the soul unendurable, not
because it is wounded ” for it considers such wounds to be its salvation ”
but because it is thus suffering from its love, and because He has not
wounded it more deeply so as to cause death, that it may be united to Him in
the life of perfect love. The soul, therefore, magnifying its sorrows, or
revealing them, says,
Having wounded me.
25. The soul says in effect, You have abandoned me after wounding me, and
You have left me dying of love; and then You have hidden Yourself as a hart
swiftly running away. This impression is most profound in the soul; for by
the wound of love, made in the soul by God, the affections of the will lead
most rapidly to the possession of the Beloved, whose touch it felt, and as
rapidly also, His absence, and its inability to have the fruition of Him
here as it desires. Thereupon succeed the groaning because of His absence;
for these visitations of God are not like those which recreate and satisfy
the soul, because they are rather for wounding than for healing ” more for
afflicting than for satisfying it, seeing that they tend rather to quicken
the knowledge, and increase the longing, and consequently pain with the
longing for the vision of God. They are called the spiritual wounds of love,
most sweet to the soul and desirable; and, therefore, when it is thus
wounded the soul would willingly die a thousand deaths, because these wounds
make it go forth out of itself, and enter into God, which is the meaning of
the words that follow:
I ran after You, crying; but You were gone.
26. There can be no remedy for the wounds of love but from Him who inflicted
them. And so the wounded soul, urged by the vehemence of that burning which
the wounds of love occasion, runs after the Beloved, crying to Him for
relief. This spiritual running after God has a two-fold meaning. The first
is a going forth from all created things, which is effected by hating and
despising them; the second, a going forth out of oneself, by forgetting
self, which is brought about by the love of God. For when the love of God
touches the soul with that vividness of which we are here speaking, it so
elevates it, that it goes forth not only out of itself by
self-forgetfulness, but it is also drawn away from its own judgment, natural
ways and inclinations, crying after God, O my Bridegroom, as if saying,
By this touch of Yours and wound of love have You drawn me away not only
from all created things, but also from myself ” for, in truth, soul and body
seem now to part ” and raised me up to Yourself, crying after You in
detachment from all things that I might be attached to You:
You were gone.
27. As if saying, When I sought Your presence, I found You not; and I was
detached from all things without being able to cling to You ” borne
painfully by the gales of love without help in You or in myself. This going
forth of the soul in search of the Beloved is the rising of the bride in the
Canticle: I will rise and go about the city; in the streets and the high
ways I will seek Him Whom my soul loves. I have sought Him and have not
found . . . they wounded me. [43] The rising of the bride ” speaking
spiritually ” is from that which is mean to that which is noble; and is the
same with the going forth of the soul out of its own ways and inferior love
to the ennobling love of God. The bride says that she was wounded because
she found him not; [44] so the soul also says of itself that it is wounded
with love and forsaken; that is, the loving soul is ever in pain during the
absence of the Beloved, because it has given itself up wholly to Him hoping
for the reward of its self-surrender, the Possession of the Beloved. Still
the Beloved withholds Himself while the soul has lost all things, and even
itself, for Him; it obtains no compensation for its loss, seeing that it is
deprived of Him whom it loves.
28. This pain and sense of the absence of God is wont to be so oppressive in
those who are going onwards to the state of perfection, that they would die
if God did not interpose when the divine wounds are inflicted upon them. As
they have the palate of the will wholesome, and the mind pure and disposed
for God, and as they taste in some degree of the sweetness of divine love,
which they supremely desire, so they also suffer supremely; for, having but
a glimpse of an infinite good which they are not permitted to enjoy, that is
to them an ineffable pain and torment.
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[18] John 1:18
[19] Isa. 45:15
[20] Job 9:11
[21] Eccles. 9:1
[22] Cant. 1:6
[23] ˜Soliloq., c. 31. Opp. Ed. Ben. tom. vi. app. p. 98.
[24] Luke 17:21
[25] 2 Cor. 6:16
[26] ˜Mt. Carmel, Bk. 2, c. 5. sect. 3.
[27] Matt. 13:44
[28] Matt. 6:6
[29] Isa. 26:20
[30] Prov. 4:23
[31] Isa. 45:3
[32] 1 Cor. 13:10
[33] Exod. 33:22, 23
[34] Sect. 4.
[35] Sect. 2.
[36] Ps. 17:12
[37] John 15:7
[38] Judg. 16:15
[39] Ps. 16:15
[40] Rom. 8:23
[41] Cant. 2:9
[42] Ps. 72:21, 22
[43] Cant. 3:2, 5:7
[44] Cant. 5:6, 7
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STANZA II
O shepherds, you who go
Through the sheepcots up the hill,
If you shall see
Him Whom I love,
Tell Him I languish, suffer, and die.
THE soul would now employ intercessors and mediators between itself and the
Beloved, praying them to make its sufferings and afflictions known. One in
love, when he cannot converse personally with the object of his love, will
do so in the best way he can. Thus the soul employs its affections, desires,
and groanings as messengers well able to manifest the secret of its heart to
the Beloved. Accordingly, it calls upon them to do this, saying:
O shepherds, you who go.
2. The shepherds are the affections, and desires, and groanings of the soul,
for they feed it with spiritual good things. A shepherd is one who feeds:
and by means of such God communicates Himself to the soul and feeds it in
the divine pastures; for without these groans and desires He communicates
but slightly with it.
You who go.
You who go forth in pure love; for all desires and affections do not reach
God, but only those which proceed from sincere love.
Through the sheepcots up the hill.
3. The sheepcots are the heavenly hierarchies, the angelic choirs, by whose
ministry, from choir to choir, our prayers and sighs ascend to God; that is,
to the hill, for He is the highest eminence, and because in Him, as on a
hill, we observe and behold all things, the higher and the lower
sheepcots. To Him our prayers ascend, offered by angels, as I have said; so
the angel said to Tobit When you prayed with tears, and buried the dead
. . . I offered your prayer to the Lord. [45]
4. The shepherds also are the angels themselves, who not only carry our
petitions to God, but also bring down the graces of God to our souls,
feeding them like good shepherds, with the sweet communications and
inspirations of God, Who employs them in that ministry. They also protect us
and defend us against the wolves, which are the evil spirits. And thus,
whether we understand the affections or the angels by the shepherds, the
soul calls upon both to be its messengers to the Beloved, and thus addresses
them all:
If you shall see Him,
That is to say:
5. If, to my great happiness you shall come into His presence, so that He
shall see you and hear your words. God, indeed, knows all things, even the
very thoughts of the soul, as He said to Moses, [46] but it is then He
beholds our necessities when He relieves them, and hears our prayers when he
grants them. God does not see all necessities and hear all petitions until
the time appointed shall have come; it is then that He is said to hear and
see, as we learn in the book of Exodus. When the children of Israel had been
afflicted for four hundred years as serfs in Egypt, God said to Moses, I
have seen the affliction of my people in Egypt, and I have heard their cry,
and . . . I am come down to deliver them. [47] And yet He had seen it
always. So also St. Gabriel bade Zachariah not to fear, because God had
heard his prayer, and would grant him the son, for whom he had been praying
for many years; [48] yet God had always heard him. Every soul ought to
consider that God, though He does not at once help us and grant our
petitions, will still succor us in His own time, for He is, as David says,
a helper in due time in tribulation, [49] if we do not become
faint-hearted and cease to pray. This is what the soul means by saying, If
you shall see Him; that is to say, if the time is come when it shall be His
good pleasure to grant my petitions.
6. Whom I love the most: that is, whom I love more than all creatures.
This is true of the soul when nothing can make it afraid to do and suffer
all things in His service. And when the soul can also truly say that which
follows, it is a sign that it loves Him above all things:
Tell Him I languish, suffer, and die.
7. Here the soul speaks of three things that distress it: namely, languor,
suffering, and death; for the soul that truly loves God with a love in some
degree perfect, suffers in three ways in His absence, in its three powers
ordinarily ” the understanding, the will, and the memory. In the
understanding it languishes because it does not see God, Who is the
salvation of it, as the Psalmist says: I am your salvation. [50] In the
will it suffers, because it possesses not God, Who is its comfort and
delight, as David also says: You shall make them drink of the torrent of
Your pleasure. [51] In the memory it dies, because it remembers its
privation of all the blessings of the understanding, which are the vision of
God, and of the delights of the will, which are the fruition of Him, and
that it is very possible also that it may lose Him for ever, because of the
dangers and chances of this life. In the memory, therefore, the soul labors
under a sensation like that of death, because it sees itself without the
certain and perfect fruition of God, Who is the life of the soul, as Moses
says: He is your life. [52]
8. Jeremiah also, in the Lamentations, speaks of these three things, praying
to God, and saying: Remember my poverty . . . the wormwood and the gall.
[53] Poverty relates to the understanding, to which appertain the riches of
the knowledge of the Son of God, in whom all the treasures of wisdom and
knowledge are hid. [54] The wormwood, which is a most bitter herb, relates
to the will, to which appertains the sweetness of the fruition of God,
deprived of which it abides in bitterness. We learn in the Revelation that
bitterness appertains spiritually to the will, for the angel said to St.
John: Take the book and eat it up; and it shall make your belly bitter.
[55] Here the belly signifies the will. The gall relates not only to the
memory, but also to all the powers and faculties of the soul, for it
signifies the death thereof, as we learn from Moses speaking of the damned:
Their wine is the gall of dragons, and the venom of asps, which is
incurable. [56] This signifies the loss of God, which is the death of the
soul.
9. These three things which distress the soul are grounded on the three
theological virtues ” faith, charity, and hope, which relate, in the order
here assigned them, to the three faculties of the soul ” understanding,
will, and memory. Observe here that the soul does no more than represent its
miseries and pain to the Beloved: for he who loves wisely does not care to
ask for that which he wants and desires, being satisfied with hinting at his
necessities, so that the beloved one may do what shall to him seem good.
Thus the Blessed Virgin at the marriage feast of Cana asked not directly for
wine, but only said to her Beloved Son, They have no wine. [57] The
sisters of Lazarus sent to Him, not to ask Him to heal their brother, but
only to say that he whom He loved was sick: Lord, behold, he whom You love
is sick. [58]
10. There are three reasons for this. Our Lord knows what is expedient for
us better than we do ourselves. Secondly, the Beloved is more compassionate
towards us when He sees our necessities and our resignation. Thirdly, we are
more secured against self-love and self-seeking when we represent our
necessity, than when we ask for that which we think we need. It is in this
way that the soul represents its three necessities; as if it said: Tell my
Beloved, that as I languish, and as He only is my salvation, to save me;
that as I am suffering, and as He only is my joy, to give me joy; that as I
am dying, and as He only is my life, to give me life.
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[45] Tob. 12:12
[46] Deut. 31:21
[47] Exod. 3:7, 8
[48] Luke 1:13
[49] Ps. 9:10
[50] Ps. 34:3
[51] Ps. 35:9
[52] Deut. 30:20
[53] Lam. 3:19
[54] Col. 2:3
[55] Rev. 10:9
[56] Deut. 32:33
[57] John 2:3
[58] John 11:3
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STANZA III
In search of my Love
I will go over mountains and strands;
I will gather no flowers,
I will fear no wild beasts;
And pass by the mighty and the frontiers.
THE soul, observing that its sighs and prayers suffice not to find the
Beloved, and that it has not been helped by the messengers it invoked in the
first and second stanzas, will not, because its searching is real and its
love great, leave undone anything itself can do. The soul that really loves
God is not dilatory in its efforts to find the Son of God, its Beloved; and,
even when it has done all it could it is still not satisfied, thinking it
has done nothing. Accordingly, the soul is now, in this third stanza,
actively seeking the Beloved, and saying how He is to be found; namely, in
the practice of all virtue and in the spiritual exercises of the active and
contemplative life; for this end it rejects all delights and all comforts;
and all the power and wiles of its three enemies, the world, the devil, and
the flesh, are unable to delay it or hinder it on the road.
In search of my Love.
2. Here the soul makes it known that to find God it is not enough to pray
with the heart and the tongue, or to have recourse to the help of others; we
must also work ourselves, according to our power. God values one effort of
our own more than many of others on our behalf; the soul, therefore,
remembering the saying of the Beloved, Seek and you shall find, [59] is
resolved on going forth, as I said just now, to seek Him actively, and not
rest till it finds Him, as many do who will not that God should cost them
anything but words, and even those carelessly uttered, and for His sake will
do nothing that will cost them anything. Some, too, will not leave for His
sake a place which is to their taste and liking, expecting to receive all
the sweetness of God in their mouth and in their heart without moving a
step, without mortifying themselves by the abandonment of a single pleasure
or useless comfort.
3. But until they go forth out of themselves to seek Him, however loudly
they may cry they will not find Him; for the bride in the Canticle sought
Him in this way, but she found Him not until she went out to seek Him: In
my little bed in the nights I have sought Him Whom my soul loves: I have
sought Him and have not found Him. I will rise and will go about the city:
by the streets and highways I will seek Him Whom my soul loves. [60] She
afterwards adds that when she had endured certain trials she found Him.
[61]
4. He, therefore, who seeks God, consulting his own ease and comfort, seeks
Him by night, and therefore finds Him not. But he who seeks Him in the
practice of virtue and of good works, casting aside the comforts of his own
bed, seeks Him by day; such a one shall find Him, for that which is not seen
by night is visible by day. The Bridegroom Himself teaches us this, saying,
Wisdom is clear and never fades away, and is easily seen of them that love
her, and is found of them that seek her. She prevents them that covet her,
that she first may show herself to them. He that awakes early to seek her
shall not labor; for he shall find her sitting at his doors. [62] The soul
that will go out of the house of its own will, and abandon the bed of its
own satisfaction, will find the divine Wisdom, the Son of God, the
Bridegroom waiting at the door without, and so the soul says:
I will go over mountains and strands.
5. Mountains, which are lofty, signify virtues, partly on account of their
height and partly on account of the toil and labor of ascending them; the
soul says it will ascend to them in the practice of the contemplative life.
Strands, which are low, signify mortifications, penances, and the spiritual
exercises, and the soul will add to the active life that of contemplation;
for both are necessary in seeking after God and in acquiring virtue. The
soul says, in effect, In searching after my Beloved I will practice great
virtue, and abase myself by lowly mortifications and acts of humility, for
the way to seek God is to do good works in Him, and to mortify the evil in
ourselves, as it is said in the words that follow:
I will gather no flowers.
6. He that will seek after God must have his heart detached, resolute, and
free from all evils, and from all goods which are not simply God; that is
the meaning of these words. The words that follow describe the liberty and
courage which the soul must possess in searching after God. Here it declares
that it will gather no flowers by the way ” the flowers are all the
delights, satisfactions, and pleasures which this life offers, and which, if
the soul sought or accepted, would hinder it on the road.
7. These flowers are of three kinds ” temporal, sensual, and spiritual. All
of them occupy the heart, and stand in the way of the spiritual detachment
required in the way of Christ, if we regard them or rest in them. The soul,
therefore, says, that it will not stop to gather any of them, that it may
seek after God. It seems to say, I will not set my heart upon riches or the
goods of this world; I will not indulge in the satisfactions and ease of the
flesh, neither will I consult the taste and comforts of my spirit, in order
that nothing may detain me in my search after my Love on the toilsome
mountains of virtue. This means that it accepts the counsel of the prophet
David to those who travel on this road: If riches abound, set not your
heart upon them, [63] This is applicable to sensual satisfactions, as well
as to temporal goods and spiritual consolations.
8. From this we learn that not only temporal goods and bodily pleasures
hinder us on the road to God, but spiritual delight and consolations also,
if we attach ourselves to them or seek them; for these things are hindrances
on the way of the cross of Christ, the Bridegroom. He, therefore, that will
go onwards must not only not stop to gather flowers, but must also have the
courage and resolution to say as follows:
I will fear no wild beasts and I will go over the mighty and the
frontiers.
Here we have the three enemies of the soul which make war against it, and
make its way full of difficulties. The wild beasts are the world; the
mighty, the devil; and the frontiers are the flesh.
9. The world is the wild beasts, because in the beginning of the heavenly
journey the imagination pictures the world to the soul as wild beasts,
threatening and fierce, principally in three ways. The first is, we must
forfeit the worlds favor, lose friends, credit, reputation, and property;
the second is not less cruel: we must suffer the perpetual deprivation of
all the comforts and pleasures of the world; and the third is still worse:
evil tongues will rise against us, mock us, and speak of us with contempt.
This strikes some persons so vividly that it becomes most difficult for
them, I do not say to persevere, but even to enter on this road at all.
10. But there are generous souls who have to encounter wild beasts of a more
interior and spiritual nature ” trials, temptations, tribulations, and
afflictions of diverse kinds, through which they must pass. This is what God
sends to those whom He is raising upwards to high perfection, proving them
and trying them as gold in the fire; as David says: Many are the
tribulations of the just; and out of all these our Lord will deliver
them. [64] But the truly enamored soul, preferring the Beloved above all
things, and relying on His love and favor, finds no difficulty in saying:
I will fear no wild
beats and pass over the mighty and
the frontiers.
11. Evil spirits, the second enemy of the soul, are called the mighty,
because they strive with all their might to seize on the passes of the
spiritual road; and because the temptations they suggest are harder to
overcome, and the craft they employ more difficult to detect, than all the
seductions of the world and the flesh; and because, also, they strengthen
their own position by the help of the world and the flesh in order to fight
vigorously against the soul. Hence the Psalmist calls them mighty, saying:
The mighty have sought after my soul. [65] The prophet Job also speaks of
their might: There is no power upon the earth that may be compared with him
who was made to fear no man. [66]
12. There is no human power that can be compared with the power of the
devil, and therefore the divine power alone can overcome him, and the divine
light alone can penetrate his devices. No soul therefore can overcome his
might without prayer, or detect his illusions without humility and
mortification. Hence the exhortation of St. Paul to the faithful: Put on
the armor of God, that you may stand against the deceits of the devil: for
our wrestling is not against flesh and blood. [67] Blood here is the world,
and the armor of God is prayer and the cross of Christ, wherein consist the
humility and mortification of which I have spoken.
13. The soul says also that it will cross the frontiers: these are the
natural resistance and rebellion of the flesh against the spirit, for, as
St. Paul says, the flesh lusts against the spirit, [68] and sets itself as
a frontier against the soul on its spiritual road. This frontier the soul
must cross, surmounting difficulties, and trampling underfoot all sensual
appetites and all natural affections with great courage and resolution of
spirit: for while they remain in the soul, the spirit will be by them
hindered from advancing to the true life and spiritual delight. This is set
clearly before us by St. Paul, saying: If by the spirit you mortify the
deeds of the flesh, you shall live. [69] This, then, is the process which
the soul in this stanza says it becomes it to observe on the way to seek the
Beloved: which briefly is a firm resolution not to stoop to gather flowers
by the way; courage not to fear the wild beasts, and strength to pass by the
mighty and the frontiers; intent solely on going over the mountains and the
strands of the virtues, in the way just explained.
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[59] Luke 11:9
[60] Cant. 3:1
[61] Cant. 3:4
[62] Wisd. 6:13
[63] Ps. 61:11
[64] Ps. 33:20
[65] Ps. 53:5
[66] Job 41:24
[67] Eph. 6:11
[68] Gal. 5:17
[69] Rom. 8:13
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STANZA IV
O groves and thickets
Planted by the hand of the Beloved;
O verdant meads
Enameled with flowers,
Tell me, has He passed by you?
THE disposition requisite for entering on the spiritual journey, abstinence
from joys and pleasure, being now described; and the courage also with which
to overcome temptations and trials, wherein consists the practice of
self-knowledge, which is the first step of the soul to the knowledge of God.
Now, in this stanza the soul begins to advance through consideration and
knowledge of creatures to the knowledge of the Beloved their Creator. For
the consideration of the creature, after the practice of self-knowledge, is
the first in order on the spiritual road to the knowledge of God, Whose
grandeur and magnificence they declare, as the Apostle says: For His
invisible things from the creation of the world are seen, being understood
by these things that are made. [70] It is as if he said, The invisible
things of God are made known to the soul by created things, visible and
invisible.
2. The soul, then, in this stanza addresses itself to creatures inquiring
after the Beloved. And we observe, as St. Augustine [71] says, that the
inquiry made of creatures is a meditation on the Creator, for which they
furnish the matter. Thus, in this stanza the soul meditates on the elements
and the rest of the lower creation; on the heavens, and on the rest of
created and material things which God has made therein; also on the heavenly
Spirits, saying:
O groves and thickets.
3. The groves are the elements, earth, water, air, and fire. As the most
pleasant groves are studded with plants and shrubs, so the elements are
thick with creatures, and here are called thickets because of the number and
variety of creatures in each. The earth contains innumerable varieties of
animals and plants, the water of fish, the air of birds, and fire concurs
with all in animating and sustaining them. Each kind of animal lives in its
proper element, placed and planted there, as in its own grove and soil where
it is born and nourished; and, in truth, God so ordered it when He made
them; He commanded the earth to bring forth herbs and animals; the waters
and the sea, fish; and the air He gave as a habitation to birds. The soul,
therefore, considering that this is the effect of His commandment, cries
out,
Planted by the hand of the Beloved.
4. That which the soul considers now is this: the hand of God the Beloved
only could have created and nurtured all these varieties and wonderful
things. The soul says deliberately, by the hand of the Beloved, because
God does many things by the hands of others, as of angels and men; but the
work of creation has never been, and never is, the work of any other hand
than His own. Thus the soul, considering the creation, is profoundly stirred
up to love God the Beloved for it beholds all things to be the work of His
hands, and goes on to say:
O verdant meads.
5. These are the heavens; for the things which He has created in the heavens
are of incorruptible freshness, which neither perish nor wither with time,
where the just are refreshed as in the green pastures. The present
consideration includes all the varieties of the stars in their beauty, and
the other works in the heavens.
6. The Church also applies the term verdure to heavenly things; for while
praying to God for the departing soul, it addresses it as follows: May
Christ, the Son of the living God, give you a place in the ever-pleasant
verdure of His paradise. [72] The soul also says that this verdant mead is
Enameled with flowers.
7. The flowers are the angels and the holy souls who adorn and beautify that
place, as costly and fine enamel on a vase of pure gold.
Tell me, has He passed by you?
8. This inquiry is the consideration of the creature just spoken of, and is
in effect: Tell me, what perfections has He created in you?
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[70] Rom. 1:20
[71] Conf. 10. 6.
[72] Ordo commendationis animae.
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STANZA V
ANSWER OF THE CREATURES
A thousand graces diffusing
He passed through the groves in haste,
And merely regarding them
As He passed,
Clothed them with His beauty.
THIS is the answer of the creatures to the soul which, according to St.
Augustine, in the same place, is the testimony which they furnish to the
majesty and perfections of God, for which it asked in its meditation on
created things. The meaning of this stanza is, in substance, as follows: God
created all things with great ease and rapidity, and left in them some
tokens of Himself, not only by creating them out of nothing, but also by
endowing them with innumerable graces and qualities, making them beautiful
in admirable order and unceasing mutual dependence. All this He wrought in
wisdom, by which He created them, which is the Word, His only begotten Son.
Then the soul says;
A thousand graces diffusing.
2. These graces are the innumerable multitude of His creatures. The term
thousand, which the soul makes use of, denotes not their number, but the
impossibility of numbering them. They are called grace because of the
qualities with which He has endowed them. He is said to diffuse them because
He fills the whole world with them.
He passed through the groves in haste.
3. To pass through the groves is to create the elements; here called groves,
through which He is said to pass, diffusing a thousand graces, because He
adorned them with creatures which are all beautiful. Moreover, He diffused
among them a thousand graces, giving the power of generation and
self-conservation. He is said to pass through, because the creatures are, as
it were, traces of the passage of God, revealing His majesty, power, and
wisdom, and His other divine attributes. He is said to pass in haste,
because the creatures are the least of the works of God: He made them, as it
were, in passing. His greatest works, wherein He is most visible and at
rest, are the incarnation of the Word and the mysteries of the Christian
faith, in comparison with which all His other works were works wrought in
passing and in haste.
And thereby regarding them As He passed, Clothed them with His beauty.
4. The son of God is, in the words of St. Paul, the brightness of His glory
and the figure of His substance. [73] God saw all things only in the face
of His Son. This was to give them their natural being, bestowing upon them
many graces and natural gifts, making them perfect, as it is written in the
book of Genesis: God saw all the things that He had made: and they were
very good. [74] To see all things very good was to make them very good in
the Word, His Son. He not only gave them their being and their natural
graces when He beheld them, but He also clothed them with beauty in the face
of His Son, communicating to them a supernatural being when He made man, and
exalted him to the beauty of God, and, by consequence, all creatures in him,
because He united Himself to the nature of them all in man. For this cause
the Son of God Himself said, And I, if I be lifted up from the earth will
draw all things to Myself. [75] And thus in this exaltation of the
incarnation of His Son, and the glory of His resurrection according to the
flesh, the Father not only made all things beautiful in part, but also, we
may well say, clothed them wholly with beauty and dignity.
NOTE
BUT beyond all this ” speaking now of contemplation as it affects the soul
and makes an impression on it ” in the vivid contemplation and knowledge of
created things the soul beholds such a multiplicity of graces, powers, and
beauty with which God has endowed them, that they seem to it to be clothed
with admirable beauty and supernatural virtue derived from the infinite
supernatural beauty of the face of God, whose beholding of them clothed the
heavens and the earth with beauty and joy; as it is written: You open Your
hand and fill with blessing every living creature. [76] Hence the soul
wounded with love of that beauty of the Beloved which i |