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   Title: Song of Songs of Solomon / Explanations and Reflections having
   Reference to the Interior Life
   Creator(s): Guyon, Madame
   Print Basis: New York: A. W. Dennett, 1879
   Rights: Public Domain
   CCEL Subjects: All; Bibles; Mysticism; Proofed
   LC Call no: BS1485
   LC Subjects:

   The Bible

   Old Testament

   Special parts of the Old Testament
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The

Song of Songs

of

Solomon.



With Explanations and Reflections having Reference to
the Interior Life



by



Madame Guyon


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Translated from the French by

James W. Metcalf, M.D.
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New York:

Published by A. W. Dennett,

No. 12 Ann Street.
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1879.

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   Entered according to Act of Congress by Mrs. Maria C. Metcalf.
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  TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE.
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   In the Providence of God, Madame Guyon, of whose general history and
   character the reader is, doubtless, already sufficiently well informed, [1]
   was an inmate, during the years 1682 and 1683, of a Convent at Thonon, a
   small town of Savoy, on the southern shore of the Lake of Geneva. Here, in
   the midst of varied crosses and persecutions, multiplied labors and never
   ceasing bodily suffering, she composed the greater part of the works, which
   have endeared her memory to interior souls, and have been the means of
   leading multitudes into a pure and higher knowledge of the way of Jesus
   Christ.

   Of these by far the most extensive was her Commentaries on the Holy
   Scriptures, which, as afterwards collected and published by the zealous
   Poiret, fill twenty duodecimo volumes. Her own account of the origin of this
   extensive series of spiritual interpretations and reflections is as follows.
   [2] [3]

   “Thou wert not contented, O Lord, with causing me to speak; I must also read
   the Holy Scriptures. There were times when I could read no longer, for I
   found no void within to fill, but rather an overflowing abundance. As soon
   as I began to read the Bible, it was given me to write down the passage
   which I was reading, and immediately afterwards its meaning was set before
   me. While writing the text, I had not the slightest hint of the explanation;
   but the moment it was committed to paper, the latter followed with
   inconceivable rapidity. Before writing, I knew nothing of what I was about
   to write; while writing, I became conscious that I was writing things to
   which I had previously been a perfect stranger, and that there were hidden
   in me unknown treasures of wisdom and knowledge; after writing, I remembered
   nothing of what I had penned, neither word nor idea. I could not have made
   use of it for the help of souls; but our Lord gave me at the moment, without
   any labor on my part, whatever was necessary for their edification.

   “It was in this way that He caused me to write an explanation of the whole
   Bible. I had no book but that, nor did I ever make use of any other, or
   search after anything. [4] Where I have introduced passages from the New
   Testament, in commenting upon the Old, they were not sought after, but
   accompanied the explanation itself; and the same was the case with
   quotations from the Old Testament when engaged upon the New.

   “I had scarce any time for writing except at night, for I was obliged to
   converse all day, with the same absence of thought for self and an equal
   unconcern as to life or health. I slept but an hour or two, and had,
   besides, almost every day the intermittent fever; but, notwithstanding, I
   continued to write without inconvenience and without a thought as to life or
   death. He, to whom I belonged without reserve, did with me whatsoever He
   pleased without my interfering with His work.

   “Thou didst cause me to write so purely under Thine own direction, that I
   was obliged to cease and resume according to Thy will. Thou didst exercise
   me in every way; suddenly I must write, as suddenly cease and immediately
   resume my labor. When I was writing by day, I was suddenly interrupted and
   frequently obliged to leave words half expressed, and Thou didst afterwards
   add what seemed good to Thee.

   “All the faults in my writings have this source, that, being unaccustomed to
   the operation of God, I was often unfaithful, continuing to write after the
   inward impulse had ceased, because I had time at my command and because I
   had been required to finish the work. Thus it is easy to discover passages
   which are beautiful and elevated, and others which have neither relish nor
   unction; but I have left them as they are, that they may be a standing
   testimony to the difference between the Spirit of God and that of the
   natural man.

   * * * * “I wrote the Canticle of Canticles in a day and a half, besides
   receiving several visits. The rapidity with which. I wrote was so great that
   my arm became swollen and very stiff. * * * I will add one other
   circumstance in relation to these matters, that a very considerable part of
   the book of Judges was lost. I was requested to supply it, and wrote anew
   the required portions. A long time after having moved away, the missing
   sheets came to light in a place where no one had ever dreamed of looking for
   them, and on comparing the two copies they were found perfectly to
   correspond, much to the admiration of many well-informed and upright persons
   who took the pains to examine them side by side.”

   After circulating somewhat extensively in manuscript, the explanation of the
   Canticle was published separately at Lyons in 1688. Upon this edition all
   subsequent ones have been founded. It was principally by citations from
   these two works, the Method of Prayer and the Explanation of the Canticle,
   that the accusers of Madame Guyon subsequently attempted to sustain their
   charges of heresy and novel opinions. To meet these allegations, when
   afterwards submitting her writings for judgment to an assembly of
   Ecclesiastics high in authority, she prepared for their assistance a digest
   of extracts from the writings of saints and authors for years unqualifiedly
   approved by the Church, which seemed to her not only to sustain whatever she
   had written, but to show that she would have been justified in even stronger
   expressions than she had anywhere used. This compilation was a work of
   immense labor, and was completed in fifty days; it occupies three duodecimo
   volumes of some four hundred pages each, under the title of The
   Justifications. Whatever in this collection has been thought likely to
   explain any obscurity, or to add fresh or vivid illustration to the deep
   truths contained in the text, has been added in the notes.

   The Bible used by Madame Guyon was the French translation from the Latin
   Vulgate. As it differs in some points from that commonly in use among us,
   both versions of the Canticle have been placed in parallel columns, so that
   the two may be easily compared.

   A few words of preface from the author herself, and the reader is free. [5]
   “The more firm the reader’s faith in the omnipotence of God and in his
   infinite love to man, the more comprehensive will be his abandonment and the
   purer his love, while he will be more and more enlightened as to the truths
   contained in the mystical sense of the Scriptures. He will then discover
   with indescribable delight, that every experience is therein detailed in the
   simplest and clearest manner; he will rejoice to have met with a guide to
   lead him across the Red Sea and the weary desert that succeeds, but he will
   only recognize the full measure of his happiness when he shall have safely
   arrived in the promised land. Transported with joy, his past labors will
   seem like a dream, and had his sufferings been far greater, he will account
   that it would have been an easy purchase.

   “But, my beloved friend, did you ever reflect that of the great multitude
   that left the land of Egypt, but two ever set foot upon that blessed ground?
   Do you ask why this was? Devoid of courage, they incessantly gave themselves
   up to selfish regrets for what they had left behind. Had they been faithful
   and courageous, a few months would have brought them there; but forty years
   in the wilderness was the penalty of their murmurs and dissatisfaction. So
   those whom God desires to lead to the interior land of promise, look back
   with longing, not for the material onions of Egypt, but for those sensible
   delights which are no longer appropriate to a pure and naked way of faith;
   they reject that light bread, manna; they require something grosser; they
   rebel against their conductor, and far from being grateful for the goodness
   of God, they excite his anger and arouse his wrath. Thus they doom
   themselves to a long and weary march about the mountain, making one step in
   advance and four backward, and at last die in the wilderness from their own
   obstinacy.

   “My brethren! let us take courage; let us make up our minds to attain our
   end, and set at nought the difficulties that hedge up the way. We have an
   unerring Guide; that cloud by day that prevents our being misled by the
   dazzling brightness of the sun, and that pillar of fire by night that leads
   us unfailingly through the darkest night of faith. Ah! Holy Love! the
   gloomier the obscurity about us, the more glowing is thy pillar of fire! Why
   can we not be content with the hidden manna of the interior which will feed
   the true life within, which grosser viands could never do? If we must die,
   let us choose the death of self rather than that of the soul.

   “But we are not now restricted to the beautiful types which the old
   Dispensation presented of the interior road; we have now a clearer and more
   assured path which Jesus Christ himself has pointed out by treading in it.
   We no longer labor among admirable but mysterious shadows of the good things
   to come, but we have a living model, the Word of Truth. Jesus Christ is the
   way in which we must walk, the truth by which we are taught, and the life by
   which we live, in Him we have the substance of which the ancient Fathers had
   but the shadow. And if they entered upon the interior life, how much more
   incumbent is it upon Christians to do so, who are permitted to handle, as it
   were, the body and blood of the Lord Jesus!”
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   [1] See Life of Lady Guyon various editions, Amer. and English Life etc., of
   Mad. De La Mothe Guyon etc. by Thomas C. Upham New York, Harper and
   Brothers, 2 vols. 12mo. 1849

   [2] Vie ii. 221, ch. 21.

   [3] Note: Her autobiography is very indistinct in the matter of dates, but
   the above is probably as near an approximation to the truth as can be made.
   The Torrents was written at Thonon (Vie ii. 118, 119), and from internal and
   other evidence it is probable that The Method of Prayer had been previously
   composed—(Opusc. i. p. 33, chap. xii. § 1)—That the Commentaries on the
   Scriptures were written during these years we have her own direct assertion
   in two different passages (Œuvres xiii. 10—xx. 412.)

   [4] A similar statement is repeated in several places, as for instance at
   the end of the commentary on Revelations (Œuvres xx. 409) “Mystical Theology
   makes use of expressions and terms which must not be interpreted according
   to the artificial rigor of the Doctrinal Schools. Let no one wonder at the
   description of such sublime interior states; God has so ordered it, that
   everyone may perceive that there is no spiritual experience which is not set
   out in the Holy Scriptures. I here assert, that I have referred to no book
   whatever, except the simple Word of God, never in my life having read any of
   the Fathers of the Church. I simply took the Scriptures and wrote, as fast,
   in faith and abandonment, as my pen would go, whatever entered my mind,
   without a single thought as to whether it were well or ill said. I have
   never re-read it for the purposes of correction, but have left it just as it
   was in the hands of my Director, to whom it is submitted, that He may make
   such disposition of it as may seem good to Him, and as may be inspired in
   Him by God.”

   [5] Œuvres, i. pref. p. 68.
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                             THE SONG OF SOLOMON.
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  CHAPTER I

   Anglican version. Vulgate, catholic.
   1. The Song of Songs, which is Solomon’s.
   2. Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for thy love is better than
   wine. 1. Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth; for thy breasts are
   better than wine,
   3. Because of the savor of thy good ointments, thy name is as ointment
   poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee. 2. And more fragrant than
   the choicest ointments. Thy name is as oil poured forth; therefore have the
   virgins loved thee.
   4. Draw me, we will run after thee, the King hath brought me into his
   chambers; we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love
   more than wine; the upright love thee. 3. Draw me, we will run after thee to
   the odor of thine ointments. The King hath brought me into his
   storechambers; we will exult and be glad in thee, remembering thy breasts
   are better than wine, the upright love thee.
   5. I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of
   Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon. 4. I am black, but comely, O ye daughters
   of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.
   6. Look not upon me because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me;
   my mother’s children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the
   vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept. 5. Look not upon me
   because I am dark-colored, because the sun hath tanned me; my mother’s
   children strove against me; they made me keeper in the vineyards; mine own
   vineyard have I not kept.
   7. Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou
   makest thy flock to rest at noon; for why should I be as one that is turned
   aside by the flocks of thy companions? 6. Tell me, O thou whom my soul
   loveth, where thou feedest, where thou reposest at mid-day, lest I should
   begin to wander after the flocks of thy companions.
   8. If thou knowest not, O thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the
   footsteps of the flock, and feed thy kids beside the shepherds’ tents. 7. If
   thou know not, O thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the footsteps
   of the flock, and feed thy kids beside the shepherds’ tents.
   9. I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh’s
   chariots. 8. I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horsemen in
   Pharaoh’s chariots.
   10. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold.
   9. Thy cheeks are comely as a turtledove’s; thy neck as jewels.
   11. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver. 10. We will make
   thee chains of gold inlaid with silver.
   12. While the King sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the
   smell thereof. 11. While the King was reclining upon his couch, my spikenard
   sent forth the smell thereof.
   13. A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night
   betwixt my breasts. 12. A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he
   shall abide between my breasts.
   14. My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire, in the vineyards of
   Engedi. 13. My beloved is unto me as a cluster of cypress, in the vineyards
   of Engaddi.
   15. Behold, thou art fair, my love, behold, thou art fair; thou hast
   doves’ eyes. 14. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou
   hast doves’ eyes.
   16. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant; also our bed is green.
   15. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, and comely; our bed is adorned with
   flowers.
   17. The beams of our house are cedar and our rafters of fir. 16. The beams
   of our houses are of cedar and our carved ceilings are of cypress.
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  CHAPTER II.

   Anglican version. Vulgate.
   1. I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys. 1. I am the flower
   of the field, and the lily of the valleys.
   2. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. 2. As the
   lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
   3. As the appletree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the
   sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was
   sweet to my taste. 3. As the appletree among the trees of the wood, so is my
   beloved among the sons. I sat down under the shadow of him whom I desired,
   and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
   4. He brought me into the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.
   4. He brought me into the wine cellars and set love in order within me.
   5. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples; for I am sick of love. 5.
   Stay me with flowers, strew me with apples; for I am sick of love.
   6. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me. 6.
   His left hand is under my head and his right hand shall embrace me.
   7. I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and by the hinds
   of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love till she please. 7. I
   charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and by the hinds of the
   field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love till she please.
   8. The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh, leaping upon the mountains,
   skipping upon the hills. 8. The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh,
   leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
   9. My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold he standeth behind our
   wall; he looketh forth at the windows, showing himself through the lattice.
   10. My beloved spake and said unto me: Rise up, my love, my fair one, and
   come away. 10. Behold, my beloved speaketh to me and saith: Rise up my love,
   my dove, my fair one, and come.
   11. For lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
   12. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is
   come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; 12. The flowers have
   appeared on the earth; the pruning time is come, and the voice of the turtle
   is heard in our land;
   13. The figtree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender
   grapes give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, come away. 13. The
   figtree hath put forth her green figs, and the flowering vines give a good
   smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, come.
   14. O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, in the secret of the stairs, Let
   me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and
   thy countenance is comely. 14. My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the
   hollow of the wall, shew me thy countenance and let thy voice sound in mine
   ears; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
   15. Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines; for our vines
   have tender grapes. 15. Take us the little foxes that spoil the vines; for
   our vine is in blossom.
   16. My beloved is mine and I am his; he feedeth among the lilies.
   17. Until the day break and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be
   thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.
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  CHAPTER III.

   Anglican version. Vulgate.
   1. By night on my bed, I sought him whom my soul loveth; I sought him, but I
   found him not.
   2. I will arise now and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad
   ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.
   3. The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw ye him
   whom my soul loveth?
   4. It was but a little that I passed from them but I found him whom my soul
   loveth: I held him and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my
   mother’s house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me. 4. It was but
   a little that I passed by them when I found him whom my soul loveth. I held
   him: neither will I let him go until I bring him into my mother’s house, and
   into the chamber of her that conceived me.
   5. I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and by the hinds
   of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love till he please. 5. I
   charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and the hinds of the
   fields, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till she please.
   6. Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke,
   perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all the powders of the merchant?
   6. Who is she that goeth up by the wilderness, like a pillar of smoke from
   the incense of myrrh and frankincense and all powders of the perfumer?
   7. Behold his bed, which is Solomon’s; threescore valiant men are about it,
   of the valiant of Israel.
   8. They all hold swords, being expert in war; every man hath his sword upon
   his thigh because of fear in the night.
   9. King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon.
   10. He made the pillars thereof of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, the
   covering of it of purple, the midst thereof being paved with love for the
   daughters of Jerusalem. 10. He made the pillars thereof of silver, the couch
   of gold, the ascent thereto of purple; and the midst thereof he strewed with
   love for the daughters of Jerusalem.
   11. Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and behold King Solomon with the crown
   wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in the day
   of the gladness of his heart.
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  CHAPTER IV.

   Anglican version. Vulgate.
   1. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold thou art fair; thou hast doves’
   eyes within thy locks; thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from
   mount Gilead. 1. How beautiful thou art, my love; how beautiful thou art!
   Thou hast doves’ eyes, besides what is hid within; thy hair is as a flock of
   goats that appear from mount Gilead.
   2. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up
   from the washing, whereof every one bears twins, and none is barren among
   them.
   3. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely; thy
   temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks. 3. Thy lips are
   as a scarlet fillet; and thy speech is sweet Thy cheeks are like a piece of
   pomegranate, besides that which is hidden within.
   4. Thy neck is like the tower of David, builded for an armory, whereon there
   hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men. 4. Thy neck is like the
   tower of David, builded with bulwarks; a thousand shields hang upon it, all
   the armor of mighty men.
   5. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among
   the lilies.
   6. Until the day break and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the
   mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
   7. Thou art all fair, my love, there is no spot in thee.
   8. Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me from Lebanon; look from the
   top of Amana, from the top of Shenir and Hermon, from the lions dens, from
   the mountains of the leopards. 8. Come from Lebanon, my spouse, come from
   Lebanon, come; thou shalt be crowned from the top of Amana, from the peak of
   Shenir and Hermon, from the dens of the lions, from the mountains of the
   leopards.
   9. Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse, thou hast ravished my
   heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck. 9. Thou hast
   wounded my heart, my sister spouse; thou hast wounded my heart with one of
   thine eyes and with one tress of thy neck.
   10. How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love
   than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices! 10. How fair
   are thy breasts, my sister spouse! thy breasts are fairer than wine, and the
   smell of thine ointments than all spices.
   11. Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under
   thy tongue, and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
   12. A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain
   sealed. 12. A garden enclosed is my sister spouse; a garden enclosed, a
   fountain sealed.
   13. Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphor
   with spikenard; 13. Thy plants are a paradise of pomegranates with the
   fruits of the orchard. Cypress with spikenard.
   14. Spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon with all trees of
   frankincense; myrrh and aloes with all the chief spices. 14. Spikenard and
   saffron; calamus and cinnamon with all the trees of Lebanon; myrrh, and
   aloes with all the chief ointments.
   15. A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters and streams from Lebanon.
   15. A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams flowing
   strongly from Lebanon.
   16. Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden that the
   spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden and eat his
   pleasant fruits. 16. Arise, O north wind, and come, thou south, blow through
   my garden and let its spices flow out.
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  CHAPTER V.

   Anglican version. Vulgate.
   1. I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse; I have gathered my myrrh
   with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine
   with my milk; eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved. 1.
   Let my beloved come into his garden and eat the fruit of his appletrees. I
   am come into my garden, my sister spouse; I have gathered my myrrhs with my
   spices; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with
   my milk; eat, O friends, drink and be drunken, O dearly beloved.
   2. I sleep, but my heart waketh; it is the voice of my beloved that
   knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for
   my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
   3. I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how
   shall I defile them?
   4. My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were
   moved for him. 4. My beloved put in his hand through the opening, and my
   bowels thrilled at his touch.
   5. I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my
   fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock. 5. I rose
   up to open to my beloved; my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers were
   bathed with the choicest myrrh.
   6. I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself and was
   gone; my soul failed when he spake; I sought him, but I could not find him;
   I called him, but he gave me no answer. 6. I withdrew the bolt of my door
   for my beloved; but he had turned aside and was gone. My soul melted when he
   spake; I sought him, and found him not; I called him, but he gave me no
   answer.
   7. The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they
   wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
   8. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye
   tell him that I am sick of love.
   9. What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among
   women! what is thy beloved, more than another beloved, that thou dost so
   charge us?
   10. My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.
   11. His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy and black as a
   raven. 11. His head is as the most fine gold, his locks as the clusters of
   the palm, black as a raven.
   12. His eyes are as the eyes of doves, by the rivers of waters, washed with
   milk, and fitly set. 12. His eyes are like a dove’s by the rivers of waters,
   washed with milk, and sitting beside overflowing streams.
   13. His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers; his lips like
   lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh. 13. His cheeks are as a bed of
   spices, prepared by the perfumers; his lips like lilies, dropping choice
   myrrh.
   14. His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl, his belly is as bright
   ivory overlaid with sapphires. 14. His hands are turned as of gold, set with
   hyacinths; his belly is ivory set with sapphires.
   15. His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold; his
   countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. 15.
   16. His mouth is most sweet, yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my
   beloved and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem. 16. His throat is
   most sweet, etc.
     _________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VI.

   Anglican version. Vulgate.
   1. Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? Whither is thy
   beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee.
   2. My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed
   in the gardens and to gather lilies. 1.
   3. I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine: he feedeth among the lilies.
   2.
   4. Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible
   as an army with banners. 3. Thou art beautiful, O my love, sweet and comely
   as Jerusalem, terrible as an army set in array.
   5. Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me; thy hair is as a
   flock of goats that appear from Gilead. 4. Turn away thine eyes from me,
   because they have made me to flee away; thy hair is as a flock of goats that
   appear from Gilead.
   6. Thy teeth are as a flock of sheep which go up from the washing, whereof
   every one beareth twins, and there is not one barren among them. 5.
   7. As a piece of pomegranate are thy temples within thy locks. 6. As the
   rind of a pomegranate are thy cheeks, besides that which is hidden within.
   8. There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, and virgins
   without number. 7.
   9. My dove, my undefiled, is but one, she is the only one of her mother, she
   is the choice one of her that bare her. The daughters saw her and blessed
   her, yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her. 8.
   10. Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as
   the sun, and terrible as an army with banners? 9. Who is she that cometh
   forth as the rising morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and
   terrible as an army in battle array?
   11. I went down into the garden of nuts to see the fruits of the valley and
   to see whether the vine flourished and the pomegranates budded. 10.
   12. Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Aminadib. 11.
   I know nothing, my soul troubled me on account of the chariots of Aminadab.
   13. Return, return, O Shulamite! return, return, that we may look upon thee.
   12. Return, return, O Shulamite! return, return that we may look upon thee.
   What will ye see in the Shulamite? As it were the company of two armies.
     _________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VII

   Anglican version. Vulgate.
   1. What will ye see in the Shulamite, but the companies of camps?
   1. How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince’s daughter! the joints of
   thy thighs are like jewels the work of the hands of a cunning workman. How
   beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince’s daughter! the joints of thy
   thighs are like jewels the work of the hands of a cunning workman.
   2. Thy navel is like a round goblet which wanteth not liquor, thy belly is
   like a heap of wheat set about with lilies. 2.
   3. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins. 3.
   4. Thy neck is as a tower of ivory, thine eyes like the fish-pools in
   Heshbon, by the gate of Bathrabbim; thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon
   which looked toward Damascus. 4. Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; thine eyes
   like the fish-pools in Heshbon, which are in the gate of the daughter of the
   multitude, thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward
   Damascus.
   5. Thine head upon thee is like Carmel; and the hair of thine head like
   purple, the King is held in the galleries. 5. Thine head upon thee is like
   Carmel, and the hair of thy head like the King’s purple, bound by the
   channels.
   6. How fair and how pleasant art thou, O Love, for delights! 6.
   7. This thy stature is like to a palm tree and thy breasts to clusters of
   grapes. 7.
   8. I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the boughs
   thereof; now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, and the
   smell of thy nose like apples; 8. I said, I will go up to the palm-tree, and
   I will take hold of the fruit thereof; and thy breasts shall be as clusters
   of the vine, and the smell of thy mouth like that of apples.
   9. And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth
   down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak. 9. Thy
   throat is like the best wine fit for my beloved to drink, and to be dwelt
   upon with delight by his lips and teeth.
   10. I am my beloved’s, and his desire is towards me. 10.
   11. Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the
   villages. 11.
   12. Let us get up early to the vineyard; let us see if the vine flourish,
   whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud forth; there will
   I give thee my loves. 12. Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see
   if the vine flourish, if the flowers bring forth fruit, and the pomegranate
   has blossomed; there will I give thee my breasts.
   13. The mandrakes give a smell, and at our gates are all manner of pleasant
   fruits, new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved. 13.
     _________________________________________________________________

  CHAPTER VIII.

   Anglican version. Vulgate.
   1. O that thou wert as my brother, that sucked the breasts of my mother!
   when I should find thee without, I would kiss thee, yet I should not be
   despised. 1. Who will give thee to me for a brother, sucking the breasts of
   my mother? that I might find thee without and kiss thee, and yet not be
   despised?
   2. I would lead thee and bring thee into my mother’s house, who would
   instruct me; I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my
   pomegranates. 2. I will lay hold upon thee and bring thee into my mother’s
   house; there thou shalt teach me, and I will give thee a bowl of spiced
   wine, and new wine of my pomegranates.
   3. His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace
   me. 3.
   4. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake my
   love, until he please. 4. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye
   stir not up, nor awake my love, until she please.
   5. Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?
   I raised thee up under the appletree; there thy mother brought thee forth;
   there she brought thee forth that bare thee. 5. Who is this that cometh up
   from the wilderness, replete with delights, leaning upon the arm of her
   beloved?
   I raised thee up under the appletree; there thy mother was corrupted, there
   was she deflowered, that brought thee forth.
   6. Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love is
   strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave; the coals thereof are coals
   of fire which hath a most vehement flame. 6. Set me as a seal upon thy
   heart, as a seal upon thine arm; for love is strong as death, jealousy is
   cruel as hell; the lights thereof are lights of fire and flames.
   7. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it; if a man
   would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be
   contemned. 7.
   8. We have a little sister and she hath no breasts; what shall we do for our
   sister in the day when she shall be spoken for? 8.
   9. If she be a wall, we will build upon her a palace of silver; and if she
   be a door, we will enclose her with boards of cedar. 9. If she be a wall, we
   will build upon it bulwarks of silver; if she be a door, we will frame it
   with boards of cedar.
   10. I am a wall, and my breasts like towers; then was I in his eyes as one
   that found favor. 10.
   11. Solomon had a vineyard at Baalhamoh; he let out the vineyard unto
   keepers; every one for the fruit thereof was to bring a thousand pieces of
   silver. 11. The peaceable had a vineyard in that which hath people; he
   delivered it to keepers, each one brings for the fruit thereof a thousand
   pieces of silver.
   12. My vineyard which is mine is before me; thou, O Solomon, must have a
   thousand, and those that keep the fruit thereof two hundred. 12. My vineyard
   is before me. Thou, O peaceable, must have a thousand, and those that keep
   the fruit thereof two hundred.
   13. Thou that dwellest in the gardens, the companions hearken to thy voice;
   cause me to hear it. 13.
   14. Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like to a roe or to a young hart
   upon the mountains of spices. 14. Flee away, my beloved, and be thou like to
   a roe or to a young hart upon the mountains of spices.
     _________________________________________________________________

                                  COMMENTARY.
     _________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER I.

   VERSE 1. Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.

   THIS kiss, which the soul desires of its God, is essential union, or a real,
   permanent and lasting possession of its divine object. It is the spiritual
   marriage.

   That this may be understood, it is necessary to explain the difference
   between a union of the powers and essential union. Either of them may be
   transitory, and for a few moments only, or permanent and lasting.

   The union of the powers is that by which God unites the soul to Himself, but
   very superficially; it is more properly a contact than a union.

   It is nevertheless united to the personal Trinity according to the different
   effects peculiar to each member of it; but always as if to distinct persons,
   and by an intermediate operation. This operation serves both as a means and
   an end, the soul resting in the union thus experienced, without supposing
   that there is anything beyond.

   This union is accomplished in order, in all the powers of the soul, and is
   sometimes perceived in one or two of them according to the designs of God,
   and at others in all three together. This constitutes the application of the
   soul to the Holy Trinity as to distinct persons.

   When the union is in the understanding alone, it is a union of pure
   intellect, and is attributed to the Word as a distinct person.

   When the union is in the memory, which is effected by an absorption of the
   soul into God, and a profound forgetfulness of the creature, it is
   attributed to the Father, as a distinct person.

   And when it takes place in the will alone, by a loving joy without sight or
   knowledge of anything distinct, it is a union of love, and is attributed to
   the Holy Spirit, as a distinct person. And this latter is the most perfect
   of all, because it approaches nearer than any other to essential union, and
   is generally the road by which the soul arrives at it.

   All these unions are divine embraces—but they are not the Kiss of His mouth.

   These unions are of two sorts, the one transitory and very short lived, the
   other permanent and sustained by the perpetual presence of God, and a sweet
   and tranquil love, which continues in the midst of everything.

   Such, in a few words, is the union of the powers, which is a union of
   betrothal; it implies the affection of the heart, caresses and mutual
   presents, as is the case with the betrothed, but not the full enjoyment of
   its object.

   Essential union and the kiss of His mouth is the spiritual marriage, where
   there is a union of essence with essence, and a communication of
   substance—where God takes the soul for a spouse and unites Himself to it, no
   longer by persons nor by any act or means, but immediately, reducing all
   into unity and possessing it in His own unity. [6]

   Then it is the kiss of His mouth, and real and perfect possession. It is an
   enjoyment which is neither barren nor unfruitful, since it extends to
   nothing less than the communication of the Word of God to the soul.

   We must remember that God is all mouth, as He is all word, and that the
   application of this divine mouth to the soul is the perfect enjoyment and
   consummation of the marriage by which the communication of God Himself, and
   of His word, is made to the soul.

   This is what may be called the apostolic state, in which the soul is not
   only espoused but fruitful, for God, as mouth, is some time united to the
   soul before rendering it fruitful of His own fecundity.

   There are some who maintain that this union cannot take place until the next
   life, but I am confident that it may be attained in this, with this
   reservation, that here we possess without seeing, there we shall behold what
   we possess.

   Now I say, that while the view of God is in addition to our glory, without
   which it would be incomplete, it does not, nevertheless, constitute
   essential beatitude; for we are happy from the moment we receive the supreme
   Good, and can receive and enjoy it without seeing it. We enjoy it here in
   the night of faith, where we have the pleasure of enjoyment without the
   satisfaction of sight; there, we shall have the clear vision of God in
   addition to the happiness of possessing Him. But this blindness hinders
   neither the true possession nor the veritable enjoyment of the object, nor
   the consummation of the divine marriage, any more than it does the real
   communication of the Word to the soul.

   This is far from imaginary, as will be attested by every person of
   experience. [7]

   The present is a proper opportunity to resolve the difficulty of some
   spiritual persons who think that when the soul is united with God in an
   essential union, it can no longer speak of Jesus Christ and his interior
   states, the soul having passed through and left that state. I agree with
   them entirely, that union to Jesus Christ has preceded for a long time the
   essential union, since union with Him as a person, took place during the
   union of the powers; and further, that the union with the God-man Christ
   Jesus is the first of all, and occurs at the very beginning of the
   illuminated life. But as regards the communication of the Word to the soul,
   I say that the soul must first have arrived in God alone, [8] and been there
   established in essential union, and by the spiritual marriage, before the
   divine communication can be made to it; as the fruits and products of
   marriage can only appear after its consummation.

   All this is more real than can be expressed; and in the fact that God here
   possesses the soul without interruption, we may trace the difference between
   essential union and every other kind. When united with the creature, we can
   only enjoy it by intervals, because the creature is without; but the
   enjoyment of God is permanent and lasting, because it is within, and God
   being our final end, the soul can incessantly pour itself into Him as into
   its goal and centre, to be there mingled and transformed without ever again
   coming out. [9] Just as a river, which is composed of water derived from the
   sea, and quite distinct from it, finding itself away from its original,
   endeavors in various ways to reach the ocean; which, having done, it loses
   and mixes itself with it, just as it was before it left there, and can no
   longer be distinguished from it.

   It is further to be observed, that God, in creating us, made us participants
   of His being and fit to be reunited to Him; at the same time bestowing upon
   us a tendency towards such a reunion. [10] He has imparted a similar trait
   to the human body in respect to man in a state of innocence, drawing it from
   man himself, that He might give it this inclination to union, as to its
   origin. But as this takes place between gross, material substances, the
   union can only be material and very restricted, because it occurs between
   solid and impenetrable bodies. This may be illustrated by the attempt to
   unite two metals of very different qualities by fusing them together; they
   never can be perfectly united on account of their dissimilitude; but the
   nearer alike the two metals are, the more readily they mix. On the other
   hand, mix two glasses of water, and the two immediately become so mingled as
   to be undistinguishable. Thus, the soul, being perfectly spiritual in its
   character, is altogether fitted to be united, mingled and transformed in its
   God.

   This may be illustrated by the union of salt and water: when a lump of rock
   salt is thrown into water, there is union between the two, because they are
   on all sides united; but when the salt is liquefied, dissolved and vanished,
   then there is union and admixture.

   There may be a union without any intermixture; such is the union of the
   powers. But the intermingling is the essential union; and this union is
   absolute, being of all in the all.

   It is only to God that the soul can be thus united, because such is its
   nature by creation. This is what Saint Paul calls being changed into the
   same image (2 Cor. iii. 18), and the Savior, oneness (John. xvii. 11, 21).

   Now this takes place when the soul loses its proper subsistence to exist
   only in God; by which is meant mystically, the loss of all
   self-appropriation, and a loving and perfect sinking of the soul into Him,
   and not that essential despoiling of its intimate existence implied in the
   hypostatic union. It is as when a drop of water is let fall into a cup of
   wine; it loses its own appropriate form and character, and is apparently
   changed into wine; but its being and substance always remains entirely
   distinct; so that, if it were the will of God, an Angel could, at any time,
   separate the identical drop. In the same way, the soul may always be
   separated from God, though with great difficulty.

   This, then, is the lofty and intimate union that the Spouse so pressingly
   demands at the hand of the Bridegroom. She asks it of Him as though she was
   addressing another; an impetuous sally of love, giving vent to her passion
   without particular thought as to whom she was speaking. Let Him kiss me,
   says she, since He can do it, but let it be with the kisses of His mouth; no
   other union can content me; that alone can satisfy all my desires, and that
   is what I demand.
     _________________________________________________________________

   1, 2. For thy breasts are better than wine, and more fragrant than the
   choicest ointments.

   Thy breasts, O God, from which Thou nourishest souls in their beginnings,
   are so sweet and pleasant, that they render Thy children, and even those who
   have yet need of the breast, stronger than the stoutest men who are drinkers
   of wine. They are so fragrant that, by their charming perfume, they attract
   those souls that are happy enough to perceive it; they are also like a
   precious ointment that heals every interior wound. Ah! if this be so, even
   at the outset, what delights will there not be in the nuptial kiss, the kiss
   of His mouth!

   This Song of Songs starts in the beginning with, an announcement of what is
   to be its end, and, as it were, the recompense and perfection of the Spouse;
   for it is altogether natural that the prospect and desire of the end should
   precede the choice of the means. These latter are then described in order,
   beginning with spiritual infancy.

   It was a view of this end, that induced the Spouse to ask, in the first
   instance, the kiss of his mouth; though it is the last thing she will
   receive, and that only after having undergone many a trial and many a toil.
     _________________________________________________________________

   2. Thy name is as oil poured forth; therefore have the virgins loved thee.

   Sensible grace, which is here signified by the name of the Bridegroom,
   penetrates the whole soul so powerfully with the sweetness which God sends
   to the souls He intends to fill with His love, that it is truly like a balm
   poured forth, which extends and insensibly increases, in proportion as it is
   more and more poured out, and with so excellent an odor that the young soul
   finds itself wholly penetrated by its power and sweetness. This takes place
   without violence, and with so much pleasure that the soul, still young and
   feeble, suffers itself to be carried away by these innocent charms. This is
   the way God causes Himself to be loved by young hearts, who are not as yet
   capable of loving except on account of the pleasure they experience in
   loving. It was by a stream of this oil of gladness, that the Father anointed
   the Son above his fellows, who shall share His glory with Him.—(Psalm xlv.
   7.)
     _________________________________________________________________

   3. Draw me, we will run after thee to the odor of thine ointments.

   This young lover prays the Bridegroom to draw her by the centre of her soul,
   as if she were not satisfied with the sweetness of the balsam poured forth
   among her powers; for she already comprehends, through the grace of the
   Bridegroom, who continually draws her with more and more force, that there
   is an enjoyment of Himself more noble and more intimate than that which she
   at present shares. This is what gives rise to her present request. Draw me,
   says she, into the most interior chambers of my soul, that my powers and
   senses may all run to Thee by this deeper though less perceptible course.
   Draw me, O divine Lover! and we will run after Thee by recollection which
   causes us to perceive the divine force by which Thou drawest us towards
   Thee. In running, we will be guided by a certain odor, perceived by virtue
   of Thine attraction which is the smell of the ointment Thou hast already
   poured forth to heal the evil that sin has caused in our powers, and to
   purify our senses from the corruption that has there entered. We will even
   outrun this odor to reach Thee, the centre of our bliss.

   This excellent perfume gives rise to the prayer of recollection, because the
   senses as well as the powers all run after its odor, which causes them to
   taste with delight that the Lord is good. (Psalm xxxiv. 8.)
     _________________________________________________________________

   3. The King hath brought me into his store-chambers; we will exult and be
   glad in thee, remembering thy breasts better than wine; the upright love
   thee.

   The soul has no sooner manifested her desire to pass by all creatures that
   it may run to Him, than, to recompense her for a love already somewhat
   purified, He causes her to enter into his divine store-chambers. This is a
   greater grace than any she has hitherto received, for it is a transient
   union in the powers.

   When the heart of a man displays sufficient fidelity to be willing to
   dispense with all the gifts of God that it may reach God himself, He takes
   pleasure in showering upon it a profusion of the very gifts it did not seek;
   but He removes them with indignation from those who prefer them to seeking
   Himself alone.

   It was a knowledge of this, that caused the royal prophet to urge all men to
   seek the Lord and His strength; to seek His face evermore (Psalm cv. 4); as
   though he would have said, do not stop at the graces or gifts of God, which
   are only as the rays that issue from His face, but which are not Himself;
   mount up to His very throne and there seek Him; seek His face evermore until
   you are so blessed as to find it.

   Then, says the Spouse, transported with joy at the ineffable secret revealed
   to her, then, when we are in thee, O God, we shall exult and be glad in
   Thee; we will remember thy breasts more than wine; that is, the remembrance
   of having preferred the Bridegroom over everything else, will be the height
   of her joy and pleasure. She had already chosen the sweetness of his milk
   before the wine of the pleasures of this world; wherefore, she says, we will
   remember thy breasts more than wine. Here she chooses God in preference to
   His spiritual consolations; and the transports of grace, which she
   experienced while drawing the milk of His breasts.

   She adds, the upright love Thee, to signify that the true uprightness which
   leads the soul to dispense with all the pleasures of earth and the
   enjoyments of heaven, to be lost in God, is what constitutes pure and
   perfect love. In truth, O my God, none but those who are upright in the way,
   can love Thee as Thou deservest to be loved!
     _________________________________________________________________

   4. I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of
   Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.

   As the greatest graces of God tend always to produce in us a deeper
   knowledge of what we are, and as they would not come from Him, if they did
   not give, in their degree, a certain taste of the misery of the creature, so
   it is with this soul; scarcely has she emerged from the store chambers of
   the King before she discovers that she is black. What is this thy blackness,
   O thou incomparable maiden? (we say to her;) tell us, we pray thee. I am
   black, she says, because I perceive by the light of my divine Sun, hosts of
   defects, of which I was never aware until now; I am black, because I am not
   yet cleansed of self.

   But, nevertheless, I am comely as the tents of Kedar; for this experimental
   knowledge of what I am, is extremely pleasing to my Bridegroom, and induces
   Him to visit me as a place of rest. I am comely, because, having no
   voluntary [11] stain, my Spouse renders me fair with His own beauty. The
   blacker I am in my own eyes, the fairer I am in His.

   I am comely, too, as the curtains of Solomon, The curtains of the divine
   Solomon are the holy Humanity, which conceals the Word of God made flesh. I
   am comely, she says, as His curtains, for He has made me a partaker of His
   beauty in this, that as the holy Humanity concealed the Divinity, so my
   apparent blackness hides the greatness of God’s workings in my soul.

   I am black also from the crosses and persecutions which attack me from
   without; but I am comely as the curtains of Solomon, because blackness and
   the cross make me like Him.

   I am black because outward weaknesses [12] appear in me, but I am comely,
   because my intention is pure within.
     _________________________________________________________________

   5. Look not upon me because I am dark-colored, because the sun hath tanned
   me; my mother’s children strove against me; they made me keeper in the
   vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.

   Why is it that the betrothed asks that they will not look upon her in her
   blackness? Because the soul, entering now into the state of faith, and
   spoliation of sensible grace, loses by degrees the sweet vigor that led her
   so easily to the practice of virtue, and made her externally so beautiful.
   [13] And not being able any longer to perform, her previous acts, because
   God requires something else of her, she seems to have fallen back into a
   state of nature.

   This seems so to those who are not enlightened, and it is for this reason
   that she exclaims: I beseech you, my friends and companions, who have not
   yet arrived at so interior a point, you, who are yet in the first
   experiences of the spiritual life, judge me not because I am dark colored
   externally, nor because of my outward defects, real or apparent; for they do
   not happen from want of love and courage, as is the case with souls in the
   beginning, but because my divine Sun has looked upon me with his constant,
   burning beams, and changed my color. He has taken away my natural complexion
   that I might have only such a one as his fiery fervor would give me. It is
   the violence of love that dries up and tans my skin, and not its departure.
   [14] This blackness is an advance, not a relapse; but a progress not for
   your imitation at your tender age, for the blackness which you would give
   yourselves would be a defect; to be right it must only proceed from the Sun
   of Righteousness, who, for His own glory and the highest good of the soul,
   burns up and destroys that dazzling outward complexion which was a source of
   blindness to the soul, though a cause of great admiration to those about, to
   the great prejudice of the Bridegroom’s glory.

   My mother’s children beholding me thus black, sought to compel me to resume
   my active life, and direct my attention to the exterior, instead of devoting
   myself to the destruction of my interior passions; they strove against me
   for a long while, and in the end, not being able to resist them, I yielded
   to their desires; but in attending to these outward and foreign things, I
   have not kept mine own vineyard, which is my interior, where my God dwells.
   That is my whole care, and the only vineyard I ought to keep; and since I
   have not kept mine own; since I have been inattentive to the voice of my
   God, I have been still less faithful in guarding those of others. This is
   the persecution that souls are ordinarily subjected to, when it is once
   perceived that their constant introversion causes neglect of some external
   thing, the soul being entirely turned inward, and hence not being able to
   apply herself to the correction of certain trifling defects that the
   Bridegroom will Himself remedy in due time.
     _________________________________________________________________

   6. Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou
   reposest at midday, lest I should begin to wander after the flocks of thy
   companions.

   O Thou whom my soul loveth! exclaims this poor affianced one, thus obliged
   to leave the sweet employment within, to be engaged about external matters
   of the lowest description; O Thou, whom I love so much the more as I find my
   love more thwarted; ah, show me where Thou feedest Thy flocks, and with what
   food Thou satisfiest the souls that are so blessed as to be under Thy care!
   We know that when Thou wert upon earth, Thy meat and drink was to do the
   will of Thy Father (John iv. 34), and now Thy meat is that Thy friends do
   Thy will. Thou still feedest Thy followers upon Thyself, revealing to them
   Thine infinite perfection, to the end that they may love Thee more
   fervently; and the more Thou art revealed, the more they seek to know, that
   they may be able ever to love Thee more and more.

   Tell me also, pursues she, where Thou reposest at noon! By this figure she
   intends to convey the vehemence of pure love desiring to learn from its
   author and master, in what it consists; lest perchance, wandering into some
   human path, though under the semblance of spirituality, she may be misled,
   and may be ministering to self-love, at the very moment when she was
   persuaded she had nothing in view, but pure love and the glory of God alone.

   She is right in fearing a mistake which involves such important
   consequences, and which is too common among the flocks of the church. It
   happens whenever persons are guided by spiritual advisers whom Jesus Christ
   has truly rendered His companions, associating them with Himself in the
   direction of souls, but who, not being dead to themselves nor crucified to
   the world with Him, do not teach their pupils to deny themselves; to be
   crucified and dead in everything, in order to live to God only, and that
   Christ may live in them. Whence it happens, that both being in an extremely
   natural and unmortified life, their path is also exceedingly human, and
   consequently liable to turn aside hither and thither, frequently changing
   their devotions and their guides, without ever arriving at anything solid.
   And because this wandering arises from the failure to consult with care the
   maxims and example of Jesus Christ, and to apply to Him by prayer to obtain
   from Him what He alone can grant us, therefore it is that this beloved soul,
   being well instructed, implores with so much earnestness the knowledge of
   His Word with which He feeds souls, and faithfulness to follow his example.
   For she knows that these alone, with the help of grace, can prevent her from
   going astray.

   We are too often arrested at created means, however religious. God alone can
   teach us to do His will, for He alone is our God. [15] —(Psalm cxliii. 10.)

   She asks also of the Word that He would conduct her to his Father, since He
   is the way that leads there. The bosom of the Father being the place where
   He rests in the noontide of His glory, and in the full light of eternity,
   she desires to be lost in God with Jesus His Son; to be there hidden and
   there to rest forever. And though she does not say so explicitly, she gives
   us to understand it distinctly enough by what she says afterwards,—lest I
   should begin to wander as I have done. There I shall be perfectly secure; I
   shall never more be deceived; and what is far better, I shall sin no more.
     _________________________________________________________________

   7. If thou know not, O thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the
   footsteps of the flock, and feed thy kids beside the shepherds’ tents.

   The Bridegroom replies to His Bride, and to prepare her for the grace which
   He would bestow, as well as to instruct her in the use of what she has
   already received, He gives her a most important direction—If thou know not,
   says He, go forth. He means to say that she cannot know the divine object of
   her love, however passionately she may desire it, except she first know
   herself; for the nothingness of the creature helps our conception of the all
   of God. But as the light necessary for discovering the creature’s abyss of
   nothingness exists only in the all of God, He directs her to go forth.
   Whence? From herself. How? By abandonment and fidelity in applying it to
   everything, permitting herself no natural satisfaction and no life in self
   or any creature. [16] And whither? To enter into God by an absolute
   self-abandonment, where she will find that He is all and in all (Coloss. i.
   17; iii. 2); and that she herself, consequently, and every creature, are
   merely nothingness.

   Now, nothingness deserves no esteem, because it has no good; neither does it
   merit love, for it is nothing; it is only worthy, on the contrary, of
   contempt and hatred on account of the self-esteem and self-love entirely
   opposed to God, that have been implanted in it by sin. If the creature,
   then, aspire to Divine Union, it must be well persuaded of the all of God
   and its own nothingness, and must go forth of itself, feeling nothing but
   contempt and hatred for itself, that it may reserve all its esteem and love
   for God; and by this means, it may attain to union.

   This going forth from self by a perpetual abandonment of every selfish
   interest, is the interior work which the Heavenly Bridegroom prescribes to
   those who are sighing after the kiss of His mouth. He thus signifies it to
   this soul by the single expression, go forth, which is sufficient to guide
   her inward course.

   As regards the outward, it is His will that she should neglect no part of
   her duty in the station in which He has placed her, a direction which
   comprehends infinitely more than the most minute detail could do, and while
   she must follow the attraction of the Holy Spirit in all liberty as to the
   inward life, He would have her also conform to the external usages of
   religion and be obedient to those in authority, as to the exterior, and this
   He expresses by going forth in the footsteps of the flock, that is to say,
   in the ordinary, common way, externally, and by feeding the kids,—that is,
   the senses—by the shepherds’ tents.
     _________________________________________________________________

   8. I have compared thee, O my love, to my company of horsemen in Pharaoh’s
   chariots.

   The Bridegroom knowing perfectly well that all the commendations which He
   lavishes on His beloved, far from rendering her vain, only further her
   annihilation, praises her in magnificent strains, that her love may be fed.
   I have compared thee, he says, to My company of horsemen; that is, I desire
   of thee a course so swift and sure in Me that I can only liken thy single
   soul to a whole company running toward Me with extreme rapidity; I have
   compared thee to My angels, and I will for thee the same bliss that they
   enjoy, always to behold My face.—(Matt. xviii. 10.)

   Still, for the better concealment of such great things while thou art upon
   the earth, I have made thee externally like to the chariots of Pharaoh.
   Those who behold thee running so swiftly and as it were disorderly, will
   believe that thou art in search of the pleasures, the vanities and the
   multiplicities of Egypt, or that thou art busy in self-seeking in such eager
   haste, but thou art running toward Me, and thy race shall end in Me alone,
   and nothing shall prevent thy safe arrival, because of the strength and
   fidelity with which I have supplied thee.
     _________________________________________________________________

   9. Thy cheeks are comely as a turtle dove’s; thy neck as jewels.

   The cheeks signify the interior and exterior; they are comely as a turtle
   dove’s. The dove is said to have this peculiarity, that when one of a pair
   dies, the other ever after remains single, without seeking another mate. So
   the soul, separated from its God, can take no pleasure in any creature,
   either within or without. Within, it is reduced to a solitude so much the
   more complete, in that, not finding the Bridegroom, it cannot be occupied
   with anything else. Without, everything is dead, so far as it is concerned;
   and it is this very separation of the soul from every creature and from
   everything that is not God, that constitutes its beauty in the eyes of the
   Well-beloved.

   Her neck represents pure love, which is the greatest stay left her. But
   though she appears in a state of the greatest nakedness, she is still
   enriched by the practice of numberless virtues, which, like jewels of great
   price, serve as an ornament. But without this adornment, love alone would
   render her perfectly beautiful, just as the neck of the bride, though
   stripped of jewels, is not deprived of beauty.
     _________________________________________________________________

   10. We will make thee chains of gold inlaid with silver.

   Although thou art already very beautiful in thy nakedness, the evidence of a
   pure heart and unfeigned charity; we will still add something farther to set
   off thy beauty, by giving thee precious ornaments. These shall be chains, in
   token of thy perfect submission to every will of the King of Glory. But they
   shall be of gold, to signify that, acting only from an exceedingly purified
   love, thou hast but a single and pure regard to the good pleasure and glory
   of God in everything thou doest or sufferest for Him. Nevertheless, they
   shall be inlaid with silver; because, however simple and pure charity may be
   in itself, it must appear and be made manifest externally, in the practice
   of good works and the most excellent virtues.

   It is to be noted, that the Divine Master takes special care in many
   passages to instruct His beloved pupil as to the supreme purity He requires
   in the love of the Spouse, and in her faithfulness to neglect nothing in the
   service of the Well-beloved, or the help of the neighbor.
     _________________________________________________________________

   11. While the King was reclining upon his couch, my spikenard sent forth the
   smell thereof.

   The Spouse is not yet so unclothed but that she receives from time to time
   visits from her Well-beloved. But why do I call it a visit? It is rather a
   manifestation of Himself, an experience of His deep and central presence.
   The holy Bridegroom is ever in the centre of the soul that is faithful to
   Him; but He often dwells there in such a hidden manner, that the Spouse is
   almost always ignorant of her happiness except at certain times, when He is
   pleased to reveal Himself to the loving soul, which then perceives Him
   deeply and intimately present. Such is His conduct toward this the purest of
   His followers, as is testified by her words when my King, He who reigns over
   and guides me as a Sovereign, was reclining upon His couch, which is the
   ground and centre of my soul, where He takes His rest; my spikenard, that
   is, my faithfulness, sent forth the smell thereof so sweetly and pleasantly,
   that He was obliged to discover Himself to me. Then I recognized that He was
   reposing within me as on His royal couch, which before I was ignorant of,
   for although He was there, yet I knew it not.
     _________________________________________________________________

   12. A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall abide between my
   breasts.

   When the Bride, or rather the lover (for she is not yet a bride), has found
   her Bridegroom, she is so transported with joy, that she is eager to be
   instantly united to Him. But the union of perpetual enjoyment is not yet
   arrived. He is mine, she says, I cannot doubt that He gives Himself to me
   this moment, since I feel it, but He is to me, as it were, a bundle of
   myrrh. He is not yet a Bridegroom whom I may embrace in the nuptial bed, but
   a bundle of crosses, pains and mortifications; a bloody husband ( Ex. iv.
   25), and crucified lover, who desires to test my faithfulness, by making me
   partaker of a good share of his sufferings. For this is the part of the soul
   at this period.

   As an evidence, however, of the progress of this already heroic soul, note
   that she does not say, my Well-beloved will give me the bundle of the cross,
   but that He Himself should be that bundle; for all my crosses shall be those
   of my Well-beloved. This bundle shall be betwixt my breasts as an evidence
   that He will be a Bridegroom of bitterness as well without as within.
   External crosses are a small matter, if unaccompanied by those which are
   internal, and the inward are rendered much more painful by the simultaneous
   presence of the outward. But though the soul perceives nothing but the cross
   on every side, it is nevertheless her Well-beloved in the shape of the
   cross, and He never is more present to her than in those seasons of
   bitterness, during which He dwells in the midst of her heart.
     _________________________________________________________________

   13. My beloved is unto me as a cluster of cypress, in the vineyards of
   Engaddi.

   My beloved, continues the lover, is unto me as a cluster of cypress. She
   only partially expresses herself; it is as though she said: He is only near
   to me, for I have not the blessedness of that intimate union by which He
   would dwell wholly in me, and I in Him. He is nevertheless near to me but as
   a cluster of cypress (a shrub producing a very fragrant balm), since it is
   He only who gives odor and value to everything that is done by those who
   love Him. This cluster grows in the vineyards of Engaddi, which are very
   beautiful, and the grapes of which are excellent. She compares her
   Well-beloved to the pleasant fragrance and excellent virtue of balsam, to
   the delight and strength of wine, to express by these images that he, who
   has learned from the interior enjoyment of God to put his pleasure in Him,
   can no longer find delight in anything else; and that we no sooner seek any
   other source of satisfaction than we lose that which is divine.
     _________________________________________________________________

   14. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast
   doves’ eyes.

   The Well-beloved beholding the readiness of the Spouse to be crucified and
   instructed by Him, is charmed with the lustre of the beauty He has bestowed
   upon her. He caresses and praises her, calling her His fair one and His
   well-beloved.—Behold, thou art fair, my love, He says, behold, thou art
   fair!— Sweet words! He refers to a double beauty, one external, the other
   internal; but He desires that she should perceive it, as though He would
   say: Behold, thou art fair already in the depths, though thou art not yet
   perfected; know, too, that in a little while thou shalt be perfectly
   beautiful without, when I shall have finished thee and drawn thee out of thy
   weaknesses.

   These praises are accompanied by the promise of a more exquisite beauty, in
   the hope of which the soul will take courage, while its humility is
   cherished by reflecting on its imperfections.

   But why does He say that in a little while she shall be endued with a double
   beauty? It is because she has already doves’ eyes; that is, she is simple
   within, not turning aside from the view of her God, and without, in all her
   words and actions, which are destitute of guile.

   This dove-like simplicity is the surest mark of the advancement of a soul;
   for no longer making use of indirect means or artifices, she is led by the
   Spirit of God. The Spouse understood from the beginning the necessity of
   simplicity and the perfect nature of uprightness when she said, the upright
   love Thee; (verse 3), where she places the perfection of love in its
   simplicity and uprightness.
     _________________________________________________________________

   15. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, and comely; our bed is adorned with
   flowers.

   The loving soul seeing that her Bridegroom has praised her for her double
   beauty, and unwilling to appropriate anything to herself, says in return,
   Behold, Thou art fair, my beloved, and comely. She returns Him all the
   praise she had received from Him, and adds more on her own part. Nothing
   belonging to us, no praise, no glory, and no pleasure, everything must be
   referred to Him who is the author and centre of every good. The loving soul
   teaches us this important point of practice throughout, everywhere giving
   glory to the Lord for everything He has bestowed upon her. If I am
   beautiful, she says to Him, it is with Thine own beauty; it is Thou who art
   beautiful in me with this double beauty, which Thou praisest in me.

   Our bed, she adds, that inner retreat in which Thou dwellest in me, and
   which I call ours, that Thou mayst thereby be induced to come and give me
   there the nuptial kiss which I first asked of Thee, and which is my final
   end—our bed is ready, and adorned with the flowers of a thousand virtues.
     _________________________________________________________________

   16. The beams of our houses are of cedar and our carved ceilings are of
   cypress.

   The Bridegroom, hidden in the ground and centre of the soul (as has been
   said), takes pleasure in sending from the sanctuary in which He dwells,
   certain effusions of His sensible graces, which produce, in the exterior of
   the Spouse, an abundance of different virtues, which are like flowers.
   Finding herself adorned with these she is so surprised and charmed, or
   perhaps has so little experience, that she believes her inward edifice is
   nearly completed. The roof is on, she says; the beams, which are the
   practice of exterior virtues, are laid of cedar; methinks I perceive their
   agreeable odor and that I can practice them with as much strength as ease.
   The regulation of the senses appears to me to be perfectly accomplished as
   the setting in order of the carved and beautiful ceiling of cypress.

   But, O Spouse! this only appears so to thee because thy bed is adorned with
   flowers, and because the sweet, grateful and pleasant state which thou
   experiencest within, makes thee believe that thou hast gained everything
   without; but remember, thy ceilings are of cypress, which is a tree of
   death, and all this beauty and adornment are but the preparation for a
   sacrifice.
     _________________________________________________________________

   [6] The infancy of the new man is passed in receiving nourishment from the
   milk of the good examples which history sets before us. He then enters upon
   the second stage, where no longer needing to be supported by human
   authority, and forgetting everything that has its origin in man, he advances
   towards the things of God, where his reason, illuminated by the light of the
   sovereign and immutable law, enables him to proceed with a firm step by the
   requirements of this primitive rule of all good. The third age succeeds, in
   which the superior part having become stronger and more authoritative,
   begins to hold the other in check by force of reason, as the wife is kept
   submissive to the husband. The new man here experiences, as it were, the
   blessedness of the conjugal union, under the veil of this spiritual modesty,
   by means whereof we no longer need to be forced to live uprightly; since, if
   we had the fullest permission to sin, we should have no desire to use it. In
   the fourth period, the strength constantly increasing, the practice of what
   was begun in the last stage becomes easier, more decided, and more constant;
   the maturity of the perfect man comes on by which he is enabled to sustain
   without yielding, all the tempests of this world and all the assaults of
   persecution. He then passes to the fifth, where, raised above everything
   that could cause him the slightest trouble, he enjoys, in profound peace,
   the abundance of the riches that are found in the tranquil and unfading
   kingdom of sovereign and unspeakable Wisdom. The fifth period is followed by
   the sixth, which carries the renewing of the interior man to its last
   perfection, and finishes him in the image and likeness of God; he then lives
   in the world as not in it, and leads upon the earth the life that the
   blessed enjoy in Heaven. The seventh stage is that eternal rest and perfect
   and undisturbed felicity in which all representations and states have ceased
   forever. For as death is the destruction of the old man, eternal life is the
   end of the new, for the first is then loaded with the damnation incurred
   through sin, and the other is clothed with the righteousness whose reward is
   glory—St. Augustine on True Religion, ch. 26.

   [7] The consummation of the interior life is referred by some to the next
   life. To me it seems that in the other world we shall experience the
   consummation of grace and glory, of all increase and merit, the fruit, the
   recompense and the unclouded enjoyment of the truth of the interior; but as
   to the interior in itself, it must be completed in all its perfected and
   finished proportions in the present state. Here it has its commencement, a
   perfect conversion in every sense required by a perfect recollection; its
   progress is here, the hunger and perpetual seeking after God, which avoids,
   flees and purifies everything contrary to Him; and its end, too, may be here
   the state of rest and satisfaction in the Sovereign Good which has been the
   object of the soul’s desire. But it is to be remembered that this repose is
   in the enjoyment of God as it may be had in this life, which is no
   impediment to a perpetual progress in Him. The state is thus perfected as
   far as the action of the creature is concerned, but not consummated nor
   finished as to the perfecting hand of God. The human body maybe used, it
   seems to me, as an illustration of this subject; for it is called a perfect
   body when it is complete in all its members. Now, although we find some that
   are lame, blind and maimed, we do not say that the body should be deprived
   of its limbs, but we draw for a perfect body, one that is in possession of
   all its members. Beyond this perfection there is another of form and beauty,
   when the body is not only complete in its members, but when the separate
   members themselves present that harmony of proportion and color that belong
   to a perfect man. This is our conception of a perfect body, and every one
   agrees that its beauty is a perfect beauty, although no one will deny that
   it is as nothing in comparison with its perfection when glorified. Now it is
   not necessary, in order to persuade us that the present perfection of the
   body is not that of one risen in glory, to deprive it of any of its members,
   however apparently insignificant. It is the same with the interior life.
   Admit that it will enjoy a totally different perfection in the world to come
   from that which it is here capable of receiving, let us not, for that
   reason, make it sadly imperfect by depriving it of any of its essential
   elements. It is even here a magnificent whole, the greatest achievement of
   the love and omnipotence of God, for, according to John of the Cross, the
   work of our regeneration and salvation is more stupendous than that of our
   creation.—Mad. Guyon, Justifications, iii. 124.

   [8] These words, God alone, indicate perfect union.—Just, i. 389.

   [9] That is, unless it should fall away and be rejected of
   God.—Justifications i. 143.

   [10] There is never a moment in which God does not shed His infinite love of
   benevolence upon every human soul, for being communicable in his nature, He
   must necessarily communicate Himself incessantly to every being disposed to
   receive His gifts, as the dew falls upon every object exposed to the sky.
   But man is created free, and has the power of shutting himself up, and of
   sheltering himself from the celestial dew; he turns his back upon God and
   heaps hindrance upon hindrance, lest he should be reached by His mercy. What
   effect, then, has the feeling arising from some good source? It affects the
   man somewhat, and removing some of the obstacles he had put in the way, he
   is induced to turn towards the source which unceasingly rains love upon
   every heart. No sooner is the heart turned and opened a little, than the dew
   of grace falls gently into it, and according as it is more or less abundant,
   so is the growth of love in the heart; the more widely the soul is opened to
   God, the more profuse is the fall of the dew. But it is to be remembered,
   that Love prepares His own way; no other can do it for Him; He prepares our
   heart and leads it from fullness to fullness; He enlarges, and as He
   enlarges, fills; for He abhors an empty heart, and though He seems, at
   times, to reduce souls to emptiness and nakedness, the desolation is only
   external and apparent. It is true that He thrusts out everything that is not
   God; for, as God is Love, He can only permit Himself in the soul; all else
   is offensive to Him. He, therefore, sets every engine in motion, that He may
   purify His creature, enlarge, extend and magnify it, in order that He may
   have room enough to dwell in. But O, holy Love! where, ah! where are the
   hearts that will submit to be thus purified, enlarged and extended by Thy
   hand? Thine operations only seem harsh because we are impure, for Thou art
   always gentle and tender-hearted! We must even esteem it a great matter, if
   some souls will give Thee a hesitating admission. Alas! how straitened art
   Thou in such hearts! what confined quarters and what a filthy residence for
   the infinite God of purity! O Love! hast Thou not the power of a God? Must
   we make no other use of our liberty but in resisting Thee? Sad gift! the
   only true employment of which is in sacrificing it wholly to Thee!—Mad.
   Guyon, Justifications, iii. 109.

   [11] Mark this, no voluntary stain.—Just i. 156.

   [12] Weaknesses, not sins.—Justifications ii. 273.

   [13] While the soul still feels the full power of the divine unction upon
   it, its imperfections appear to be destroyed; but as the work of
   purification goes on, the virtues sink deep into the soul, disappearing from
   the surface and leaving the natural defects in conspicuous prominence. The
   effects of winter upon the vegetable world seem to me to present a lively
   and truthful image of this operation of God. As the season of cold and
   storms approaches, the trees gradually lose their leaves, their vivid green
   is soon changed into a funereal brown, and they fall and die. The trees now
   look stripped and desolate; the loss of their summer garments brings to
   light all the irregularities and defects in their surfaces which had
   previously been hidden from view. Not that they have contracted any new
   deformity; not at all; everything was there before, but hidden by their
   abundant verdure. Thus the man in the time of his purification, appears
   stripped of his virtues, but as the tree, in the preservation of its sap,
   retains that which is the producing cause of leaves, so the soul is not
   deprived of the essence of virtue, nor of any solid advantage; but only of a
   certain external facility in the display of its possessions. The man thus
   spoiled and naked, appears in his own eyes and in those of others with all
   the defects of nature which were previously concealed by the verdure of
   sensible grace. During the whole of winter, the trees appear dead; they are
   not so in reality, but, on the contrary, are submitting to a process which
   preserves and strengthens them. For what is the effect of winter? It
   contracts their exterior, so that the sap is not uselessly expended abroad,
   and it concentrates their strength upon the root, so that new ones are
   pushed out and the old ones strengthened and nourished and forced deeper
   into the soil. We may say, then, that however dead the tree may appear in
   its accidents (if we may be allowed to apply this expression to its leaves),
   it was never more alive in its essentials, and it is even during winter that
   the source and principle of its life is more firmly established. During the
   other seasons it employs the whole force of its sap in adorning and
   beautifying itself at the expense of its roots. Just so in the economy of
   grace. God takes away that which is accidental in virtue, that He may
   strengthen the principle of the virtues. These are still practised by the
   soul, though in an exceedingly hidden way, and in humility, pure love,
   absolute abandonment, contempt of self and the others, the soul makes solid
   progress. It is thus that the operation of God seems to sully the soul
   exteriorly; in point of fact it implies no new defects in the soul, but only
   an uncovering of the old ones, so that by being openly exposed they may be
   better healed.—Mad. Guyon, Justifications, ii. 265.

   [14] Just as fire blackens wood before consuming it. It is the approach of
   the fire that blackens the wood, and not its removal. Wood may also be
   discolored by moisture; but it is then far less fit to be burned, and may
   even be made so wet that it will not burn at all. Such is the blackness of
   those who depart from Thee, O God, and go whoring from Thee. (Psalm lxxiii.
   27). They shall all perish; but not so our Spouse, who is rendered
   dark-complexioned by the excess of the love that intends to perfect her in
   Himself, by cleansing her of everything opposed His own
   purity.—Justifications, ii. 274.

   [15] A father has caused various dishes to be placed upon the table, some
   far more delicious than others. One of the children has taken a fancy to the
   dish that stands nearest to him, though it is far from the best, and
   requests to be helped from it because of his liking for it. The father
   perceives that if he were to give him a far better one he would reject it,
   his mind being set upon that which he sees before him; and so, lest he
   should remain hungry and discouraged, he reluctantly grants him his request.
   Thus God granted the prayer of the Israelites for a king; it was not what He
   would have chosen for them, nor what they needed, but it was what their
   hearts were set upon having.—John of the Cross, Ascent of Carmel, Book ii.
   ch. 21.

   [16] Let us note here, that our Spouse, far from falling into open sin, does
   not even indulge herself in innocent recreations. A soul that has enjoyed
   God in the unspeakable degree, has acquired too refined a taste to be
   pleased any longer with earthly things. Those who leave Him, and permit
   themselves to be guilty of offences against Him, are such, as sought Him
   only for his delights, not for Himself; when He takes these away, they seek
   their pleasure elsewhere. But God never abandons a soul that seeks Him for
   Himself alone; that fears rather than desires his favors, and that loves the
   cross without fearing it. As the souls that relapse and fall away, do so,
   because, in their first privations, they seek an indemnification for the
   suffering inflicted by God in the pleasures of the senses, which they at
   first esteem innocent; therefore I have always strenuously insisted, in
   everything which He has permitted me to write, that the soul must suffer
   itself to be consumed without seeking consolation, and to die without
   helping it to a single breath. This matter seems to me one of great
   consequence; for almost every soul, on arriving at this point, either turns
   back, seeking again its former activity in order to recover the enjoyment it
   has lost; or what is far worse, follows its sensual inclinations; and as the
   love it had for God was impure, sensual, and entirely selfish, when it no
   longer feels it, it indulges its senses in the delights of the creature. As
   these persons loved God solely for the gratification it gave them, as St.
   Francis of Sales testifies of them, and not for Himself, the moment their
   pleasure ceases, they turn to those which are unlawful; and, as their taste
   has been refined by their participation of spiritual enjoyments, they cannot
   now be satisfied without an infinity of pleasure—nor are they then—but seek
   to stifle their consciences and their constant remorse by a more unbridled
   license. Had they loved God with a pure affection, He never would have
   suffered them to have thus fallen. Let me also add here that, in the
   beginning, when the soul is immersed in delights and heavenly consolations,
   it appears strong, but is, in fact, so exceedingly weak, that the least
   occurrences distract it, and cause it to commit a thousand faults. After the
   first purgation or trial, called by John of the Cross the night of the
   senses, it is no longer subject to these frailties, so that as to every
   external thing in the order of God, it can walk abroad without being
   sullied, as formerly, by a thousand vain complacencies and self-seekings. I
   say things in the order of God and according to His will; for it would be a
   very different matter, if it were to amuse and divert itself; neither could
   a soul that has reached this state do it without great pain, and an
   infidelity so much the more horrible, as the soul had the greater power to
   avoid it. In truth, this is the most dangerous period of the whole spiritual
   life; for if, on the cessation of interior support the soul turns to
   external sources of pleasure, though it finds it difficult at first, yet the
   way grows more and more easy. It is a way of destruction to many a spiritual
   pilgrim, and I have, therefore, in all my writings constantly pointed it
   out. I speak of the beginning of the night of the senses, and not when it is
   fully set in; for then there is scarcely anything to fear. And so after
   total death, the soul becomes so confirmed in God that it can find nothing
   satisfying in the creature, nor can it fall, short of becoming like Lucifer.
   To leave God after reaching this state, would render a soul the most
   miserable in the universe; for as it has tasted the joy unspeakable of the
   Divine Union it can not with its utmost exertion derive any pleasure from
   exterior sources, for the now distant pleasures of sense would seem so
   insipid in comparison with celestial delights, that they would only redouble
   its torture. Such a soul must be, as it were, in hell. Having received in
   heaven a divine power, and being now cast out, it must either return to God,
   a very difficult thing, or must become worse than Satan himself. Such a
   person, of whom it is difficult to find one, would I think become the most
   abandoned of men, and his depravity would be measured by the extent to which
   he had experienced the Divine favor. We scarcely ever find, then, a soul
   thus fallen; but among those who are just entering upon the night of the
   senses, and who are not yet dead to self, nor established in God, we may see
   many who no longer experiencing the delights which they had sought rather
   than God, apply themselves to the creature for the enjoyment which they no
   longer find in Him; but the pleasures they derive thence are so blunted,
   that they must run to every excess to produce any emotion. It is a miracle
   when a soul in this case is converted and returns to God, for as they have
   tasted the good things of God, and have abandoned Him, every motive that can
   be brought to bear upon them to bring them back, is already familiar to
   them; they know it all and it affects them no longer. Such, it seems to me,
   is the meaning of what is declared in the word: For it is impossible, for
   those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and
   were made partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted the good word of God
   and the powers of the world to come, if they shall fall away to renew them
   again unto repentance.—Heb vi. 4-6). But if falling away is difficult for
   souls in this degree, it is far more so, I might rather say almost
   impossible, for those in the subsequent ones; for they become as it were
   settled in a fixed state, and so great is the difficulty of falling from
   that, that it requires the pride of the Devil himself and a maliciousness of
   purpose of which the soul here is far from capable. Still, it is, of course,
   possible, and I suppose there are some who, like the rebel angels, have been
   thrust headlong down from heaven into hell; but after such a fall, the
   difficulty of returning to God is greatly increased. It seems to me almost
   impossible, not from any opposition on the part of God, who always furnishes
   every one with all needful means of salvation, but on account of the
   wickedness of such a soul in which it is strengthening and confirming
   itself. If I may speak after the manner of men, the loss of such a soul is
   more painful to God than that of a million of others; and His former love to
   them is now the measure of His wrath.—Justifications, i. 417.
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CHAPTER II.

   VERSE 1. I am the flower of the field, and the lily of the valleys.

   This, O my God, is a gentle reproach of my Spouse for desiring so soon to
   repose upon a flowery couch, before having rested with Thee upon the painful
   bed of the cross. I am the flower of the field, He says, a flower you will
   not find in the repose of the couch, but which must be culled in the field
   of combat, labor and suffering. I am the lily of the valleys, which only
   grows in annihilated souls. If, then, you would have me uproot you from
   earth that I may take root in you, you must be in the extremest
   annihilation; if you would find me, you must engage in combat and endure
   hardship.
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   2. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.

   By these words the Bridegroom signifies the progress of his beloved, since
   she is like a lily, very pure and pleasant, and of a sweet odor before Him;
   while the other daughters, instead of being docile and pliable, and
   suffering themselves to be fed by his Spirit, are like a thicket of thorns
   which is impenetrable, and wounds those who attempt to approach it. Such are
   souls self-possessed and immersed in their own wills, who refuse to be
   guided towards God. And this is a cause of suffering to an abandoned soul
   when placed among such; for they do all that lies in their power to draw her
   out of the way; but as the lily perfectly preserves both its purity and its
   perfume even when surrounded by thorns, so these souls are preserved by the
   Bridegroom, in the midst of the opposition which they experience from those
   who prefer to be their own guides and to dwell in the multiplicity of their
   own works, having no docility in following the movement of grace.
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   3. As the appletree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the
   sons. I sat down under the shadow of him whom I desired, and his fruit was
   sweet to my taste.

   How much simplicity is there in this comparison! The beloved beholding
   herself persecuted by such spiritual persons as do not understand her
   experience, addresses herself to them and to her Well-beloved at the same
   time. As the appletree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among
   the sons; that is, among those most pleasing in the sight of God, whether
   saints in heaven or the righteous upon the earth. Be not surprised, then, if
   I sit down under His shadow, and remain at rest under His protection. I am
   only under the shadow of the wings of Him by whom I have greatly desired to
   be possessed; and although I have not yet arrived at so desirable an
   attainment, yet I can say that His fruit—that is, crosses, pain and
   abasement—is sweet to my taste. It is not sweet to the taste of the flesh;
   for the inferior part finds it bitter and ill-flavored; but it is sweet to
   the mouth of the heart, after it is once swallowed, and by me, whose taste
   is that of my Well-beloved, it is more to be desired than all other
   delights.
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   4. He brought me into the wine cellars and set love in order within me.

   The beloved of the King, issuing from her delightful interviews with Him,
   appears to her companions to be intoxicated and beside herself. She is so in
   truth; for having tasted of the finest wine of the Bridegroom, she could not
   help being seized with the extremest ardor. Being quite sensible of it
   herself, she begs her companions not to be amazed at seeing her in so
   extraordinary a condition; my intoxication, she says, is excusable, for my
   King has brought me into his divine wine cellars, and there has set love in
   order within me. The first time He made me partaker of such singular grace,
   I was so feeble that I would rather have preferred the sweetness of the
   divine breasts to the strength of this excellent wine, and therefore He was
   content to show me its effects, suffering me to drink but little of it. But
   now that experience and His grace have rendered me wiser and stronger, I can
   no longer do so; I have drunk so abundantly of His strong and pure wine,
   that He has set love in order within me.

   What order is this that God ordains in love? O Love! O God of Charity! Thou
   alone canst reveal it! He causes this soul, who by a movement of charity
   desired for herself every possible good in reference to God, to forget
   herself wholly that she may only think upon her Well-beloved. She becomes
   divested of every selfish interest in her own salvation, perfection, joy, or
   consolation, that she may only think of the interests of God. She no longer
   thinks of enjoying His embrace, but of suffering for Him. She no longer asks
   anything for herself, but only that He may be glorified. She enters fully
   into the designs of the divine righteousness, consenting with all her heart
   to everything it decrees with respect to her and in her, whether for time or
   eternity. She can love nothing in herself or in any creature except in and
   for God, and not in and for self, however important and necessary it may
   appear.

   Such is the order of charity which God ordains in this soul; her love is
   become perfectly chaste. All creatures are nothing to her; she wills them
   only for her God, and none of them for herself. Ah! what strength does this
   well ordered charity impart for the terrible states that are to follow! But
   it can only be known and enjoyed of those who have experienced it; the
   others have not yet tasted of the Bridegroom’s wine.
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   5. Stay me with flowers, strew me with apples; for I am sick of love.

   The Bridegroom has no sooner thus ordered charity in the soul, than He
   bestows upon her peculiar grace to prepare her for the sufferings that are
   to succeed. He gives her His transitory union in the centre, which from
   there expands into the senses and powers. And as she is not yet very strong,
   there is, as it were, an absorption or suspension of the senses which forces
   her to cry out, Stay me with flowers, help me with some little external
   practices, or strew me with apples, some of the fruits of the exercise of
   charity, that I die not under these powerful charms. For, I perceive that I
   am sick of love.

   Poor child! what sayest thou? Why talk of being comforted by flowers and
   fruits, exterior consolations—trifles? Thou knowest not what thou askest;
   forgive my plainness. If thou faintest under this trial, thou fallest only
   into the arms of thy loved one! and happy wouldst thou be to expire there!
   But thou art not yet prepared for this.
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   6. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand shall embrace me.

   She begins to understand the mystery, and, repenting of the foreign support
   she had sought, she says, His left hand is under my head; He bears me up
   with singular care, since He has honored me with union with Himself in the
   powers of my soul. What business, then, have I with flowers and fruits, that
   is, with things sensible and human, since He favors me with those which are
   divine? He is even going on to do more for me, uniting me to Himself in
   essence, and I shall then be fruitful and produce for my Bridegroom fruits
   incomparably more beautiful than those I desired, for He will embrace me
   with His right hand, which is His omnipotence accompanied by His love, the
   chaste embraces of which produce in the soul the perfect enjoyment of Him,
   which is only another name for essential union.

   It is true that at first, this embrace of the right hand is the affiancing
   of the soul, but not its marriage. He will embrace me, she says; He will
   first bind me to Himself by the tie of betrothal, by which I have the hope
   of a future marriage, when He will so embrace me and so bind me to Himself
   that I shall fear no subsequent defection. For the peculiarity of essential
   union is to strengthen the soul so fully, that it no longer suffers those
   faintings which beset souls in their beginnings, who, grace being as yet
   feeble in them, experience eclipses and falls. In this state, the soul is
   confirmed in love, since it then dwells in God; and he who dwells in God,
   dwells in love; for God is love.—(1 John iv. 16.)
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   7. I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes and by the hinds
   of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love till she please.

   The soul is in a mystic slumber in this embrace of betrothal, in which she
   enjoys a sacred rest she had never before experienced. In her previous
   intervals of repose, she had indeed rested under His shadow by her
   confidence in Him, but she had never slept upon His bosom nor in His arms.
   It is strange how eager the creatures are, even those which are spiritual,
   to awake the soul from this gentle slumber. [17] The daughters of Jerusalem
   are loving and meddlesome souls, who are anxious to wake her, though under
   the most specious pretexts; but she is so soundly asleep that she cannot be
   aroused. Then the Bridegroom speaks for her, and clasping her in his arms,
   charges them by what they esteem the most highly, the practice of the most
   impetuous and active virtues, not to awake His love, nor disturb her repose,
   for she is more pleasing to Him in this rest, than she would be in all her
   external activity. Wake her not, He says, neither directly or indirectly,
   nor use any far-fetched ingenuity to accomplish your purpose; let her rest,
   until she please, for she will please, whenever I please.
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   8. The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh, leaping upon the mountains,
   skipping upon the hills.

   The soul, asleep to everything else, is only the more attentive to the voice
   of her Well-beloved; she hears and recognizes it at once.

   The voice of my Beloved! she says I know it, I hear it, and its effects upon
   me removes all my doubts. But what sayest thou, O beloved one? Thou wert
   perchance dreaming from love; asleep in the arms of thy Bridegroom, thou yet
   seest Him, leaping upon the mountains and skipping upon the hills! How then
   can this be? The Bridegroom embraces his beloved and dwells in her. He
   surrounds her without and penetrates her within; she feels that, in this
   mystic slumber, he enters more deeply and becomes united to her, not only as
   heretofore, in the powers which are the hills, but in a much superior
   degree; He comes upon the mountains, that is, the centre, and there He
   touches her truly with his immediate union. She at once perceives that this
   influence is far different from that in the powers, and that it is the cause
   of very great effects, though it is but a transitory touch and not a
   permanent and lasting union.
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   9. My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold he standeth behind our
   wall; he looketh forth at the windows, showing himself through the lattice.

   While the soul is thus receiving the sweet caresses of the Bridegroom, she
   thinks they will last forever; but if they are the pledges of His love, they
   are also the tokens of His departure. Scarcely has she begun to taste the
   pleasantness of union before He is wholly gone, [18] and she compares His
   rapid disappearance to the movements of a roe or a young hart. While she is
   fondly lamenting his strange abandonment of her and when she thought Him far
   distant, she suddenly perceives Him close at hand. He had only hid Himself
   to try her faith and confidence in Him; but he never removes His look from
   her, protecting her more carefully than ever, being more closely united to
   her than ever before by the new union that has just taken place. But
   although He always beholds her, she does not always see Him. She only
   perceives Him occasionally, that she may not be ignorant of his
   watchfulness, and that she may one day teach it to others. It is to be
   observed, that He standeth, since it is now no time to rest, nor even to be
   seated, but to run; He therefore stands, as if ready to depart.
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   10. Behold, my beloved speaketh to me and saith: Rise up, my love, my dove,
   my fair one, and come.

   God having wholly turned the soul within and brought it to its centre, after
   having caused it to enjoy His chaste embrace to dispose it for its spiritual
   marriage; He causes it to take a road to all appearance totally opposite, He
   brings it out of itself by the mystical death. The Well-beloved coming in
   person to address the soul, invites it to go forth of itself in haste; He no
   longer bids it take its rest, but commands it to rise up. This is very
   different from His former conduct, then He forbade anyone from waking her,
   now He would have her rise up at once. He calls her so sweetly and so
   forcibly, that if she were not as eagerly bent upon doing His will as she
   is, she could not resist. Rise up, my love, whom I have chosen for My bride,
   my fair one, for I find thee lovely, reflecting a thousand traits of My own
   beauty. Rise up, My dove, simple and faithful, and come forth, for thou hast
   all the necessary qualities for leaving thyself. Having led thee deeply
   within, I have come out of thee that I may oblige thee, in following Me, to
   come forth of thyself also.

   This coming forth is far other than the one before alluded to (chap. 1 verse
   7), and much farther advanced, for the first was but a leaving of natural
   gratifications, that she might please her Well-beloved, but this is a
   departure from the possession of self, that she may be possessed by God
   only, and that, perceiving herself no more in self, she may be found in Him
   alone.—It is a transportation of the creature into its original, as will be
   shown by and by.
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   11. For lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.

   There are two winters, one external, the other internal, and these two are
   reciprocally opposed. When it is winter without, it is summer within, by
   which the soul is induced to enter more deeply into itself, by an effect of
   grace operating a profound state of recollection. When it is winter within,
   it is summer without, thus obliging the soul to come forth from self by the
   enlargement produced by a more abundant grace of abandonment. The winter of
   which the Bridegroom here speaks, declaring that it is past, is the outward
   winter, during which the soul might have been frozen by the excessive cold,
   wet through by the rains, and overwhelmed by the tempests and snows of sins
   and imperfections, so easily contracted in commerce with the creature. The
   soul that has found its centre becomes so strong that it has nothing further
   to fear from without, the rains are dried up, and it would be impossible for
   it, without being guilty of the blackest infidelity, to take pleasure in
   anything external.

   This expression, the winter is past, signifies, too, that as winter brings
   death to everything, so in this soul death has passed upon all outward
   things, so that there is none among them that could now satisfy it. If
   anything should appear to give it pleasure, it is only a return to its state
   of innocence in which there is no venom as there was before.

   The winter rains are over and gone, also, she may go out without fear of the
   weather, and with this additional advantage, that the cold has destroyed
   what, to her, was formerly alive and would have destroyed her, as the rigor
   of winter delivers the earth from vermin.
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   12. The flowers have appeared on the earth; the pruning time is come, and
   the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.

   To compel her to come forth, He gives her to understand that He is about to
   lead her into His grounds; He calls them our land, because He has acquired
   them for her by His redemption, and they belong to Him for her, and to her
   through Him. He says that the flowers have appeared there, but they are
   flowers that never fade, and that fear the coming of winter no more.

   The time of pruning the vine has come; the Spouse, who has compared herself
   to a vine, must now be pruned, cut down, stripped and destroyed.

   The voice of the turtle, of My humanity, invites thee to lose and hide
   thyself with it, in the bosom of My Father, thou wilt hear that voice to
   more advantage than now, when thou shalt have come to the land, whither I
   call thee, which as yet thou knowest not. This voice of My simplicity and
   innocence with which I will satisfy thee, is very different from thine.
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   13. The figtree hath put forth her green figs, and the flowering vines give
   a good smell. Arise my love, my fair one, come.

   There the spring is eternal, and is accompanied, at the same time, without
   incongruity, by the fruits of autumn and the heats of summer. The
   Bridegroom, by these flowers and fruits, points out three distinct seasons;
   but He no longer refers to winter, for, as has been already stated, when the
   soul arrives in this new land, she finds that not only the outward but the
   inward winter also is past.

   To the soul that has reached God, there is no longer any winter; but there
   is a season composed of the other three joined in one, which is, as it were,
   immortalized by the death of winter. For, before reaching the inner winter,
   the soul had passed through all the seasons of the spiritual life; but
   afterward, it re-enters upon a perpetual spring, summer and autumn. The
   mildness of spring does not prevent the fervor of summer nor the
   fruitfulness of autumn; the heats of summer do not interfere with the beauty
   of spring nor the abundance of autumn, and the fruits of autumn interpose no
   obstacle to the enjoyment of spring, nor to the ardor of summer.

   O blessed Land! happy they who are enabled to possess you! We are all
   entreated, with the Spouse, to come out of self that we may enter there. It
   is promised to all, and He who possesses it, and to whom it belongs by right
   of His eternal generation and of the purchase of His blood, earnestly
   invites us all to proceed thither. He furnishes us with all the means of
   doing so; He draws us by His urgent solicitations; why do we not make haste?
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   14. My dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hollow of the wall, show me
   thy countenance and let thy voice sound in mine ears; for sweet is thy
   voice, and thy countenance is comely.

   My dove, says the Bridegroom, my pure, chaste and harmless dove, who art
   ensconced in thyself as in the hollow of a wall, and who art there hidden in
   my wounds, which are the clefts of the living rock, show me thy countenance.
   But why sayest Thou so, O Bridegroom? is not Thy beloved wholly turned
   towards Thee? Why then dost Thou beg for a sight of her countenance? She is,
   as it were, wholly hidden in Thee, and dost Thou not behold her? Thou
   wouldst hear her voice, and she is dumb for every other but Thee!

   O admirable invention of Divine Wisdom! the poor soul, thinking that to
   correspond to her Bridegroom she must continue, as formerly, to recollect
   herself, and sink still deeper within, endeavors to do so with all her
   strength; but the contrary is what is required. He here calls her without,
   and desires that she should leave herself, and for this reason He says, show
   me thy countenance, let thy voice sound in Mine ears without; turn towards
   Me, for I have moved My place. He assures her that her voice is sweet, calm
   and tranquil; that in that respect she is like her beloved, whose voice is
   not one that is heard by reason of loud speaking; thy countenance, He adds,
   is comely; the superior part of thy soul is already fair and has all the
   advantages of beauty; there is but one thing wanting; come forth!

   If He did not thus sweetly and forcibly draw the soul without, she would
   never leave herself. It would seem that she now finds herself drawn outward
   with as much force as she formerly felt herself recollected and impelled
   inward, and even with greater; for it requires much more power to draw the
   soul out of self than to sink it within. [19] The sweetness she experiences
   in her savory recollection, is a sufficient inducement, but to leave this
   enjoyment within, to find nothing but bitterness without, is a very
   difficult matter. Besides, by recollection she lives and possesses herself;
   but by issuing forth from self, she perishes and dies.
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   15. Take us the little foxes that spoil the vines; for our vine is in
   blossom.

   The faithful soul prays her beloved that He will take away the little foxes,
   which are numerous little defects that begin to appear; for they spoil the
   interior vine, which, she says, is in blossom. It is for this reason very
   delightful to her, and the more so as she expects soon to enjoy the ripe
   fruit.

   How wilt thou be able, poor soul, to abandon this vine to which thou art so
   attached, without being aware of it? Ah! the Master himself will permit the
   little foxes to spoil it, destroy the flowers and make strange havoc with
   it! Were He not to do this, thou art so in love with thyself, that thou
   wouldst never come forth.
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   16. My beloved is mine and I am his; he feedeth among the lilies.

   O inconceivable happiness of a soul wholly and unreservedly devoted to her
   beloved, and to whom the Well-beloved is all! The Spouse is here so enamored
   of the goodness and caresses of the Bridegroom manifested for the purpose of
   obliging her to leave herself, that she thinks she has already arrived at
   the height of felicity and summit of perfection, and that her marriage is
   now to take place. She says that her Beloved is hers, to dispose of as
   pleases Him, and that she is His, for the whole extent of His will; that He
   feeds among the lilies of her purity. He feeds upon His own graces and
   virtues; He lives upon innocence and purity, that He may nourish us with the
   same. He invites us to eat with Him the meat He likes the best, as He gives
   us to understand by these words in another place: Eat, O friends; drink,
   yea, drink abundantly, O beloved! (Cant. v. 1.) Hearken diligently unto me
   and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.
   (Isa. lv. 2.)
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   17. Until the day break and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be
   thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

   The soul, beginning to be conscious that she no longer perceives the Word,
   believes that He is only hidden for a night, or rather, that He is sleeping
   in His place of rest. She says to Him, O my Beloved, since I am under the
   same roof with Thee and Thou art so near me, turn a little towards me, that
   I may perceive Thee! Let me enjoy the delights of Thy society until the day
   break, and I may have further evidence of Thy presence; until the shadows of
   faith flee away and yield to the soft light of vision and unclouded
   enjoyment! Then, remembering the transitory union which she formerly
   experienced, she cries: Run quickly, if it seem good to Thee, like a roe or
   a young hart that bounds, but let it be upon the mountains; let me once more
   enjoy that central union, that was so sweet and profitable when it was
   granted me before.
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   [17] Those who are beginning to serve God, are commonly persecuted by the
   unregenerate, because their withdrawal is a public condemnation of the
   disorders which reign in the world; but the more they are proscribed by
   such, the more they are esteemed by people of probity. Not so, however, with
   those who devote themselves to the interior life; not only do they suffer
   persecution at the hands of a godless world and from people of regular
   lives, but far more severely from such pious and spiritual minded persons as
   are not interior. These latter do it as a matter of duty, not being able to
   recognize any other way as right but that in which they themselves are
   walking. But their most violent assaults come from pretended saints and
   false devotees, whose foul characters, wickedness and hypocrisies they
   detect as they are enlightened by the truth of God, and this gives rise to
   an opposition between such persons and those who are truly spiritual, like
   that between the angels and the devils.—Justifications, iii. 55.

   [18] To comprehend this, let us remember, that between the last trials,
   which John of the Cross calls the night of the spirit, and the first
   purgation or night of the senses, God communicates Himself to the soul in a
   far more perfect manner than He had ever done before. The same thing is here
   indicated in the Canticles. The greater the purity and sublimity of this
   manifestation, the more terrible is the subsequent absence of the Bridegroom
   and the following purification; the measure of His revelation seems to be
   the measure of His hiding. These trials are rendered more agonizing,
   because, in addition to the absence of the Spouse, the soul is overwhelmed
   with a conviction of its own wretchedness, with frightful distress within
   and persecutions from men and devils without, so that no one can form an
   idea of its terrible tribulations except from actual experience. The hiding
   of the Spouse is well termed night and death, for it is He that is the light
   and life of the soul; and as the natural light renders frightful objects far
   more horrible and terrifying, so the darker night of the spirit and the less
   hope there is of beholding another dawn, the more distressing are the
   accompanying circumstances of the gloom.—Justifications, ii. 276.

   [19] Note here, that before the soul can come forth and abandon self, she
   must first be led into her own centre; having tasted the enjoyment to be
   found there, it is difficult to induce her to quit it. But, if she will only
   be faithful, she shall see how infinitely unworthy is the rest in the
   created centre, when compared with that enjoyed in the bosom of the
   Eternal!—Justifications, iii. 90.
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CHAPTER III.

   VERSE 1. By night on my bed, I sought him whom my soul loveth; I sought him
   but I found him not.

   The soul, finding that the Bridegroom does not grant her a favor which she
   surely counted on, as he had formerly bestowed it when she did not hope for
   it, is astonished at his prolonged absence. She seeks Him in her interior,
   which is her bed, and during the night of faith, but alas! she is sadly
   surprised not to find Him! She had some reason to seek Him there, since it
   was there that He discovered Himself to her, and gave her the liveliest
   conception which she had yet experienced of His character.

   But, O Spouse! thou canst not find Him there! Knowest thou not, that He bade
   thee seek Him no longer in thee but in Himself? Thou wilt not now find Him
   anywhere out of Himself. [20] Depart from self in all haste that thou mayest
   be no longer but in Him, and there thou wilt find Him! O wonderful stratagem
   of the Bridegroom! When he is most enamored of His Well-beloved, He flies
   from her with the greatest cruelty; but it is cruelty full of love, and
   without it the soul would never depart from self, and consequently would
   never be lost in God.
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   2. I will rise now and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad
   ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth: sought him, but I found him not.

   Behold a miracle performed by the absence of a God! How many times had He
   invited His beloved to rise from her repose, and she could not do it? He
   entreated her with the tenderest expressions, but she was so intoxicated
   with the peace and tranquillity which she enjoyed, that she could not be
   induced to leave them.

   O faithful soul! the repose enjoyed in thyself is but a shadow of that which
   thou wilt find in God! But it was impossible to arouse her; but now that she
   no longer finds her Well-beloved in her resting place, O, she exclaims, I
   will rise now; this couch, which was once paradise to me, is now a hell,
   since my beloved is gone; and with Him hell would be a paradise.

   The city, this world which I formerly hated, shall be the field of my
   seeking. The soul, not yet fully instructed, however enamored she may
   appear, and justly eager for the possession of the Bridegroom, her final
   end, yet here talks as a child. She is so weak, that she cannot at first
   seek God in Himself; although she does not find Him within herself, she must
   seek Him in every creature, in a thousand places where He is not, and being
   thus dispersed abroad, she is occupied with the creature under pretext of
   seeking the Creator. She seeks, nevertheless; for her heart loves and can
   find no rest but in the object of its love, but she finds nothing, because
   God has not departed from her to be sought in other creatures. He desires to
   be sought in Himself, and when she shall have arrived there she will
   discover another truth, the beauty of which will entrance her, that her
   Well-beloved is everywhere and in everything, and that everything is He, so
   that she can distinguish nothing from Him who is in all places without being
   enclosed in any.
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   3. The watchmen that go about the city found me, to whom I said, Saw ye Him
   whom my soul loveth?

   Since I have not found my Beloved in any mortal creature, I have sought Him
   among those happy spirits that go about the city to guard it; they found me
   because they are ever on the watch, These are the watchmen (Isa. lxii. 6)
   whom God has set upon the walls of Jerusalem, and who shall never hold their
   peace day nor night. I asked them news of my Well-beloved, of Him for whom I
   burn with love; but though they themselves possess Him, they could not give
   Him to me. Methinks I see Mary Magdalene (John xx. 12, 13,) who, not finding
   Christ in the sepulchre, seeks Him everywhere, asking angels and men, but
   none can give tidings of the Beloved but Himself.
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   4. It was but a little that I passed by them when I found Him whom my soul
   loveth. I held Him; neither will I let Him go until I bring Him into my
   mother’s house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.

   The soul having thus come forth from self and left all creatures behind,
   finds her Well-beloved, who manifests Himself to her with new charms; which
   causes her to believe that the blessed moment for the consummation of the
   divine marriage is at hand, and that she is about to enter into permanent
   union. She exclaims in a transport of joy, I have found Him whom my soul
   loveth, I embrace Him and will never let Him go. For she thinks she can
   retain Him, and that He only left her on account of some fault she had
   committed. I will embrace Him so closely, she continues, and will attach
   myself to Him with so much fidelity, that I will never let Him go until I
   have brought Him into my mother’s house; that is, unto the bosom of God,
   which is the chamber of her that conceived me, since He is my source and
   origin.

   But what language is this, O foolish soul? It is His part to take thee
   there, not thine to lead Him? But love believes everything possible, as Mary
   was persuaded that she could carry away the body of the Lord (John xx. 15).
   The intense desire which she feels to be there, causes her to forget that
   she must be there with Him and clothed with Him, and she says she will lead
   Him there.
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