The Third Book

CHAPTER 1 - Of the Substance and Authority of this Third Book
Since the first impression of this third book its content (substance) has been somewhat changed. The first part is concerned with the knowledge of ourselves, leading up to the second part, which is of the following of Christ. The first part, then, resembles the Purgative Way, and the second corresponds to the Illuminative Way; by which two ways it may be said that the soul rises to the Unitive Way. As this union or juncture of the soul with its God must be made with a bond of love, it seemed very fitting to alter this third book and to introduce into it teaching that has to do with love. The two earlier parts accord with the title "Ascent of Mount Sion", since therein, as has been said, the soul ascends by purification (purgation) and illumination of the spirit; but this third part signifies, not ascending, but having already ascended, and being already on the heights of quiet contemplation, by means of the juncture of love, which is called the Unitive Way.
Wherefore this third part might well be entitled the 'Summit of Mount Sion', and the first and second parts 'Ascent'. And it is to be noted that, as this third book is beyond the author's powers and capabilities, it is taken and compiled from the sentiments and judgements of the contemplative Doctors and explained with the help of figures from Holy Scripture. But for the sake of the great glory of God, and the confusion of our relaxed ways of living, and the encouragement of those that would arouse themselves and walk in the way of progress, I declare the I propose to write not a single line on these matters without being sure, through the Divine clemency, that all I shall write is altogether true. So I proceed with my work in the name of Jesus.
Since this third book, as I have said, has been almost wholly changed, it is well to make known that it has been very specially examined and approved by the very reverend Senor Licentiate Tremino, Provisor, Prior and Canon of this holy Church of Seville, and by the very reverend Senor Licentiate del Corro, Canon and Inquisitor in this Arch-diocese and division thereof.
As the contemplation denoted by this name of Sion is greater than all other operations, as is witnessed by that true saying of Christ, in which He gave preference to the Magdalen, declaring that she had chosen the better part, so the excellence (sublimity) of Mount Sion is greater than that of any other mount, for of it Isaiah said in his second chapter that it would be prepared by God above the height of all the mountains and that it would be exalted above all the hills. God, then, chose this mountain whereon to work the high mysteries which He worked on the earth, and for a remembrance of all His wonders and to make it more excellent (sublime) than all the rest of the earth which He created.
It must be known, then, that it was upon this mount that Melchizedek offered as a sacrifice bread and wine, and Abraham built an altar of his obedience, to sacrifice Isaac, his most dearly beloved son. In that same place Jacob fell asleep and saw the ladder which reached to heaven, and angels ascending and descending upon it. There, beneath the species of bread and wine, that great High Priest after the order of Melchizedek offered living bread to Himself. There, under the figure of Isaac, our most gentle Christ built the altar of the Cross and offered Himself up of His own will. There, under the figure of Jacob, fell asleep the human nature of my God, the ladder signifying the Cross. There, within the precint (orbit) of the same mount, Christ Jesus performed all the highest (sublime) mysteries of His sacred Passion, and within its precints are visited all the holy places and sacred stations which can be enumerated better Christ's Supper and His resurrection. For it must be known that so vast is the orbit of this mount of Sion that not only does it include within itself the entire city of Jerusalem, wherein there now dwell four thousand persons, but even in the days of old, when that city had an hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, it encompassed it with ease. Thus it contains within itself the dignity wherein God established it with the blood of Christ, and with the tears of the Virgin, and with all those mysteries that transcend thought. And in order to understand what this mount of Sion is, with respect to its significance, it must be known before the time of Abraham it was called Mount Moriah, which means 'high land', because of the high dignity which was prepared for it; and after Abraham's day it was called 'In the mountain the Lord will see'.
And because on the one side of this mount there was afterwards built a very grand (sumptuous) and prominent tower, that side thereof was called, in the Hebrew tongue, 'Sion', which in our language signifies 'watch-tower'; and because of the grandeur (sumptousness) of the tower, and the melodiousness of the name, and the dignity of its significance, the name 'Mount Sion' was extended to cover the entire mount. And thus the city of Jerusalem itself is called Sion; so that, when the Scripture says,'Come out, daughters of Sion, and behold your King', it is as though it were to say, 'daughters of Jerusalem' ; and similarly 'the ways of Sion mourn' means 'the roads of Jerusalem'; or again, when the Hebrews say that they sat down and wept when they remembered Sion, it is as if they had said that they were weeping for the remembrance of their city, wherein they had been taken prisoners. So that the ascent of Mount Sion is the same as the ascent to Jerusalem.
And this temporal Jerusalem denotes for us the eternal and sovereign city for the which God created us and to the which we shall not go unless we ascend from the knowledge of ourselves to the following of Christ. This method of ascent has been described for us in the first and second parts of this book, which we have now read, so that we may understand that this third part represents us to ourselves as attaining, but the road of perfection, to the summit of this mount, in order that we may rest thereon, in the quiet of living love, through quiet contemplation. And if that which I have written, and am writing, is confusion to me, I trust in the goodness of God, Who can grant me help. May the angels give Him glory.

CHAPTER 2 - That Pure Contemplation is the Highest Perfection, and why it is called Mental Prayer, and what is mean by Sion
In the sixth chapter of the book of Leviticus it is written that our boundless God commanded living fire to be placed on the altar of His sacrifice; and such stress is laid on this that it is repeated three times in the same chapter, greater emphasis being placed on the command each time. The first time it says, 'The fire shall be on this altar, etc'. The second time, 'The fire on the altar always burns'. And the third time, 'Let this fire be perpetual and never go out'. Our God must hold this fire in very great esteem, since He lays such emphasis upon it by means of all this repetition; and therefore it behoves us to think profoundly and deeply upon the immensity of the goodness of One Who in His loving kindness delights to heap benefits upon us, giving us so many of these, and in such varied ways, that we go to Him although He has no need of us - for He needs neither the lowest of His creatures nor the highest seraphim, since it pertains to the infinite perfection of the Divine Essence to have no need of anyone. Who does not realize that this fire is that which the Holy Spirit causes to burn on the altar of the human heart, the flames whereof rise upward, through our affections, to their Everlasting Source, by the way of aspiration?
And it is to be noted that, as has been shown, this fire is thrice said to burn on its altar, and each time there is an increased degree of emphasis, so that we may clearly understand that there are three distinct and different kinds of contemplation. First, this fire must be in the hearts of beginners, yet it does not always burn there, since it is not always fed. Secondly, it burns in the hearts of progressives, and there the language used is more emphatic and it is said to burn always - that is, its is always being feed with the desires of love, as it is fed by the priest of God - namely, the soul's ready will, occupied as is always is with Him and with naught but His love. The third kind of contemplation concerns the most perfect, of whose fire it is said that it burns on the altar perpetually and never goes out. The first kind of contemplation corresponds to our attainment of self-knowledge, which is the surest and best method for beginners in love. The second variety of this fire of love belongs to those who contemplate the highest mysteries of our Saviour, and who are impelled, by the perfection which they recognize in the creatures, to a love of their infinite Creator. It is of these two kinds of contemplation that you have read in the first part of this book and in the second. The third kind of Divine fire kindled by Divine goodness upon its altar - namely the love which God's infinite clemency arouses in the inmost hearts of the souls who love Him - is the fire which never gone out, and never will go out, being perpetual.
We must realize that in this state, by means of quiet and perfect contemplation, which is the only way wherein the burning of this fire can continue, He Himself makes a path for the soul, by the which He leads it until He brings it to the eternal Centre whence the fire has issued. So we must know that the school of this love, and the brazier of this fire, is quiet contemplation, and the aim which determines this love is Love Eternal. So that this fire begins to kindle itself in this life through quiet contemplation, and ceases not to burn till it comes to eternal life, where, just as our author says, there is perpetual love. This is also what the prophet Isaiah says in the last words of his thirty-first chapter. In Sion, which is the Church militant, is the fire of the Lord, and His furnace is in Jerusalem, which is the Church triumphant. Which is as if he were to say very clearly: It is in perfect and quiet contemplation that the soul feeds upon love, with which, and by means of which, it never ceases to journey towards the city of Jerusalem - the heavenly country, love's everlasting goal.
Here we must observe that this word Sion has divers meanings - I mean that divers things can be understood by it, all of which, nevertheless, have to do with contemplation or speculation. Richard (of St. Victor), in the fifteenth chapter of the fifth book of De Arca mystica, writes as follows: 'Notwithstanding the fact that oftentimes little difference is made in writing between these two words - namely, speculation and contemplation - so that the one is used for the other, yet in the most correct and proper sense, speculation denotes seeing through a (speculum, or) mirror, which comes to pass when our meditation on the creatures shows us in them that which awakens us to love for Our Lord. We say at such a time that we 'speculate', or look in the speculum, because a creature becomes a mirror when we see our Creator in it. Contemplation, he says, understood in the pure sense, is the pure and complete raising up of themselves by these souls in the love of our God and Lord, without any covering, or cloud, or darkness, or the use of any kind of creature as a mirror, least of all of any creature inferior to the rational soul: purely, completely and instantaneously, the soul attains quietness in God through pure and naked love. As it is well that we should recognize this as being the more perfect of the two, we must realize that it is undoubtedly the more proper to be chosen, and the one that we should choose, because it is the better for us. And, if we cannot perfectly attain it save by complete and quiet contemplation coming by way of aspiration and the raising up of the affections, no one should, or can, deny that pure contemplation is the highest perfection that in this mortal life it is possible to attain. Now, says Isaiah, the fires of the Lord is in Sion - that is to say, in souls given to quiet contemplation, wherein the Holy Spirit enkindles them in living love.
And, since the purer is the contemplation, the more properly it is called Sion, you must understand that, the more the contemplative continues to feed upon quiet by the way of aspiration, the more the soul realizes that it is progressing in the burnings of the love that enkindles its heart from that fire which God wills should always burn, and never go out, but perpetually on the altar. So that, when the prophet says that the fire of the Lord is in Sion, and the author of Leviticus says that this fire on the altar is perpetual, it is as if he were to say that it is in the contemplative soul that flames of the living fire of the Divine love have their chief home. And it is to be noted that there is a great likeness between passages wherin the author of Leviticus says that the fire of the sacrifice will burn on the altar perpetually and that wherein Isaiah speaks of the furnace of the Lord being in Jerusalem, which is the heavenly city, so that it is made clear that there is no end to the fire which begins to be enkindled on the altars of God, which are these our souls; and in these our souls is preserved the fire of love for so long as they are in Sion, which is quiet contemplation, and which begins in this life and attains perfection in the life to come.
The fire of the Lord, then, is in Sion, since contemplative souls possess it in this life, and finally are perfected in Jerusalem, since such souls as these, who here begin to love, and persevere in love, grow in love continually as they proceed along the road of this exile, and then are led, by this same love, along the broad, level and most joyful road of quiet contemplation, into Jerusalem which is above, wherein that fire which had its beginning in this exile of ours burns without intermission. And since, throughout the ages, it will have no end, and we shall not begin to cease loving our true Love by so much as a jot or a tittle, for for this reason the author of Leviticus says that the fire which is to burn on the altar will be a perpetual one. And thus, according to those who are much practised in this living love - of whom, by Divine goodness, there are are number, though, for our sins, they are few by comparison with those of us who do not attain it - it is possible, and it may verily and indeed happen, that the fire kindled by the Holy Spirit on the altar of the human heart will be everlasting, and, after love has given it new life, will not diminish but will enkindle itself ever the more.
And more wondrous still is this: that, if the fire of love be enkindled after this living wise, the more numerous are the storms and the floods of adversity that fall upon it, the stronger does become, for it no more ceases to grow in tribulations than in prosperity, until within these same flames, in the fire of living love, the soul is borne aloft to heavenly glory.
Of this soaring aloft of souls to their God in love there is a figure, in the thirteenth chapter of the Book of Judges, both apt and graceful. We read that, after the angel of the Lord had twice appeared to the mother of Samson before he was conceived in her womb, it came to pass that Manoah, his father, offered a sacrifice to God by the counsel of an angel, and that, when it had been upon a rock, the fire of the sacrifice, which was acceptable to God, rose to heaven, and the angel entered the flames an ascended in the midst of them, so that, while still standing in the fire, he soared upwards to the presence of God. Do you see how graceful and how apt is this sacred figure? What are we to understand by the offering of the sacrifice by Samson's parents? The meaning of it is certainly the sacrifice of themselves to God made by righteous souls while they endure this mortal life, and all their eager desires through which they soar in love. With such desires in their hearts they can say with Saint Paul that they are crucified to the world, which they endure laboriously and love with right ready will, and this solely for the love of God. He says, too, that the world suffers him as one crucified, meaning that it bestows trials upon him and keeps him within itself, though desiring to cast him out. For such souls as these have put all their study into despising the world, and when the world is despised it always desires to cast out its despiser. What else is meant by the rising of the fire of the sacrifice from the rock save the riaing upward of the love which God creates in souls? This love rises up form the corner-stone, Christ Jesus, our most living flint, Who is never touched by spiritual steel without giving forth fire from Himself. Into Him, as into the most living flame, entered the angel of the Lord, and in it he ascended and soared to heaven, for in the fire of love which the living God creates in the soul that is in grace the spirit is raised up and presented to its God.
And it is to be noted that, when that soul wherein love is created and infused flies, like to an angel, through the flames and with the eagerness of that fire, to attain quiet in its God, its flight is called that of 'spirit'. And the same spirit, when it has flown, and reposes in quiet contemplation, is called 'mind'. It is for this reason that its very pure and reposeful and most quiet contemplation is called 'mental prayer' - that is, prayer made by the soul alone, in its pure essential substance, free from its lower powers. Whence it follows that mental prayer, in the pure and absolute sense, denotes only prayer in which the soul has withdrawn into its quiet and understands not that which it contemplates. And because it contemplates God alone, and God is Goodness incomprehensible, therefore, when it has retired into the confines of its quiet, it is occupied in love alone, and, having made this withdrawal of its essential substance, can understand naught save that it loves. And we must know that in this recollection of the contemplative soul lies the greatest satisfaction, and the greatest content, and the greatest happiness that any contemplative can have in this life.
And because one and the same soul, according to its divers operations, may be called by these three names, 'soul', 'spirit', and 'mind', our very great Lady, in her sweetest song Magnificat, reminds us of the distinction between these three words. In the first verse, she says: 'My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit is very joyful in my God, my Salvation.' Later she says: 'In the mind of their hearts He hath scattered the proud and those who are lifted up in the mind of their hearts.' So her divine soul that is magnified, and her most holy spirit that is raised aloft with gladness, and her most happy mind that spurns the proud - that is, receives them not into her calmness and quiet: all these three names denote one single soul. Isaiah, too, shows us three applications of that name Sion, standing for the contemplative soul; and we find the same thing in the author of Leviticus relating to the fire of the altar of sacrifice to God. And by this soul we understand the angelic figure which soared aloft in the flame of the fire. And the fire of the altar, and the fire of Isaiah, and the fire of sacrifice described by these authors - all reveal to us the love created and made to grow by our God and Lord, Who causes it to burn for ever in these our souls. May He, of His infinite goodness, be our protection for ever.

CHAPTER 3 - Of Spiritual Growth until the Age of Perfection
As during this life of ours each person in the process of time passes through four ages before the becomes a perfect man, so in the spiritual life which leads to perfection each of us has to pass through four separate periods, during wich we grow and make progress. The four stages comprising the period are infancy, lasting to the age of seven; childhood, lasting seven years more, to the age of forteen; adolescence, the third period, comprising another fourteen years and taking us to twenty-eight; after which begins young manhood, going on to, or beyond, the age of forty, which as regards age, is perfection. In the spiritual sense we shall describe a person as being in his infancy when he practises self-knowledge and self-humiliation and profits by it. It should be noted here that, as in material affairs, this first age is the beginning of all the others, and if it ends before its fulfilment none of the other ages can follow; just so, if spiritual life is not founded on self-knowledge and humiliation, it will be a building without foundations and will not endure. Just as the second age, that of childhood, has more grace and discernment and a more ordered way of thought, so the second age of the spirit which has already made progress will begin when one has attained self-knowledge occupies himself in the highest mysteries of Christ our Redeemer, as regards to both imitating Him and meditating upon Him. It is to be understood, however, that these two spiritual ages may take place concurrently - I mean that, without inconvenience or hindrance, a person can occupy himself on one and the same day, and in the course of a single period of time, in learning to know himself and in following the highest mysteries both in imitation and in meditation.
Then, again, just as in the age of adolescence a person bears some resemblance to a man, and is likely to profit more from whatsoever he does, so those who pass on to spiritual adolescence, the age of greater progress, extend and enlarge their powers so that in every kind of creature they discover the excellences of our God and Lord, using their reason and understanding with measure and discretion, until again and again their meditation is transformed into quiet contemplation. At times such persons attain by the way of the creatures to love of their Creator, while, at other times, from this same love they derive joy which they lavish on the creatures, since these are created by their God, so that one who has learned from creatures to know the Creator of them all next learns from faith in his Creator to know the creatures. With them he began, and by them he was inspired to lift up his spirit, and, now that he has made some progress, he suddenly rises through pure affection to love of the Maker of each and all of them; and since the beam of contemplation descends and lights up any such thing, he loves it, as being the handiwork of His love, and once more soars upward from the thing created to Him Whom he loves, and has little affection left for aught else. In this way he grows in adolescence, and approaches the age of perfection, but knows that he has not reached it.
Then, just as the fourth period of physical age is young manhood - the perfect and mature age of any man - so the fourth age of spiritual persons comprises the meekness of reposeful quiet in the quiet contemplation of the inaccessible and incomprehensible Divinity, at the naming of Whom the heavens must needs tremble. In this meekness and quiet consist the culmination and perfection of a person's spiritual age. One of venerable memory, author of the book entitled 'Way or road of the spirit' terms this age supernatural. This book contains a commentary on the twenty-ninth chapter of Genesis, wherein we read how for seven years Jacod served Laban, who, in payment thereof, gave him Leah to be his wife, who was not comely: the author likens these years to those of our spiritual infancy, which humbles itself through the knowledge of our impure life and of our weakness. And when in the same chapter we read how Jacob served seven years more, so as to marry Rachel, a very comely woman, we may interpret this as referring to the second period of seven years, made comely by the mysteries of Christ.
Again, in the thirty-first chapter of the same book of Genesis, we read that in his service and labours at times of heat, and in seasons of cold, and in watching with great solicitude, this patriarch Jacob spent as much as twenty years, seven for each of the two daughters and six more to gain his flocks. During this time, we are given to understand, he increased in virtues and in wealth, till by Divine inspiration he returned to his own country with his wives and children. In his serving for seven years, and then for seven more, before marrying Rachel, we may see figured true contemplation, or more properly speaking, perfect meditation, for perfect contemplation goes deeper thatn this, as will appear. The fourteen years during which Jacob served in order to gain that which his soul desired were few enough, and even the twenty years' faithful service which he completed in order to gain the abundance of sumptuous wealth was not a great deal.
Let us be clear, then, that the periods of our infancy and childhood, which are the two periods of seven years, are to be devoted to no more than self-knowledge and the imitation of Christ our Redeemer, to serve Whom is to reign. We now go on to remark that, in these fourteen years of Jacob's service - divided into two equal periods - must be understood the distinction between two periods of spiritual progress. The first, that of beginners, is the period of our annihilation, figured by Leah, Jacob's first wife, whom he won by his first seven years' service. The second is that of the progressives - that is to say, of those who make great progress in following our Redeemer by fervent imitation and by meditation with thought and care. By the six years which Jacob served over and above the fourteen to gain abundance of wealth is signified, as has already been said, the contemplative's third period, during which, through long practice, he approaches perfection; and this perfection is the fourth period, which consists in the taking of possession, in peace and quiet, of everything for which one has previously laboured. This fourth and perfect period of quiet contemplation is illustrated and denoted by Jacob's entering into possession or all that, as has been said, he had gained, after the many years of his labour and service, and by his complete dominion over it.
It should be noted that the patriarch Jacob was already at the fourth stage of his natural life, which is called young manhood, and may extend beyond forty years to as much as fifty. Particular attention should be paid here to a remark by Henry Herp, a most quiet contemplative, that as a rule until we reach the age of forty, our nature inclination, either in the main or most wholly, is to be avaricious and covetous for our own gain, and that we hardly know what it is to serve without thought of self-interest, although in contemplatives this trait is so little marked as hardly to be observable. This means that those of us who are not old should be most cautious that we serve not God from any other motive than pure love, for He is infinitely good, and must be served with such freedom (from self-interest) that the fire of love wherewith we serve may be like to that of the service of Jacob, who said that his love for Rachel made the time of his service seem short. Its should be noted that it was for Rachel that he served the first seven years, for which he received Leah, and he was given much less than he had coveted that it was almost as if he had been deceived. And yet he did not cease from persevering but served again loyally and fervently for a like period of years and gained that which he desired, and also that which was given him, and even things that he could not desire.
Since whatsoever things were written were written for our learning, we are clearly taught here that there are many who, hearing of the exceeding great blessings to be had from contemplation, have become enamoured of them and covet them, even as Jacob coveted Rachel. If, when they began, they knew that they would be deceived, and be given Leah - that is to say, that they would not quickly gain consolations and freedom of spirit, after only a few trials, which is the beginner's desire - even fewer would begin than actually do so. But it should be noted that Jacob gladly and willingly agreed to serve seven years more so as to gain what he desired. That is to say,  those who enter the service of our Lord through covetousness of gain grow in fervour as they serve, until they attain such knowledge of the perfection of goodness and of the great freedom of quiet contemplation that all they have suffered and have still to suffer seems to them restful and brief. But even after fourteen years, notwithstanding all his service and labour, the holy patriarch did not attain to possession of his fortune, but only of his wives and children; and in the period of adolescence the contemplative does not attain to the perfection of peaceful quiet, for which reason we are not told that Jacob acquired servants and cattle and an increase fortune until he had served for twenty years. Thus there is pictured in him the contemplative who perseveres his whole life long in the loyal service of his God out of pure love; by means of the matrimony of true quiet, he comes to take peace for a wife far comelier than Rachel in quiet contemplation, and for children he has all those that through his good example have acquired virtue, and for his fortune he has all the things in the world which he has despised because of the strength of love, which occupies all his affection.
For, in truth, there is none who so completely possesses the whole world as he who despises it all for love of God alone and who says with the apostle Saint Paul in the sixth chapter of the first epistle to Timothy: If we have wherewith to cover these bodies and to maintain them, with this we are content. If this is sufficient for us, it is certain that we have no need of aught else. Any contemplative should have discretion enough not to omit taking any of these necessaries in moderation; he will take them for pure love of God, Whose will it is that we take them, and for pure love likewise he will forsake everything beside. These are they of whom the same Saint Paul speaks in the sixth chapter of the second epistle to the Corinthians:'They are possessors of all things, as though they had none of them.'
This is a very great freedom, wherein wholly consists the highest perfection of the poorest in spirit. Provided they have such freedom, the blessings of this poverty of spirit can most certainly be possessed even by those who possess fortunes; still more are they enjoyed by those who become poor in spirit, solely for the love of God, and, in order that they may gain this evangelical blessing, forsake what they have and give it to the poor. Such as these earn high merit on account not only of what they have forsaken, but also of the things in this world which the might have desired. They, indeed, may say to our Redeemer, Christ Jesus, as did the apostle Saint Peter in the Gospel, with the greatest confidence, born of a living love:'Oh, our dear Lord, what wilt Thou give to those of us who for love of Thee, and to follow Thee freely, have left all things?' This Saint Matthew, in the nineteenth chapter of his Gospel, describes Saint Peter as saying. We know that he forsook very few things, because he had very few; but, because with great good will and living affection he despised all temporal inheritances of this world, he said that he had left all things in order to become poor in spirit and to receive the great reward which Christ promises to such as in His Gospel. And now we continue discussing the material in the author referred to - Glory be to God for all.

CHAPTER 4 - Continues to discuss the Ages of the Spiritual Life, and says what is meant by Praying in Spirit and by the Soul's being created in the Image of God As has been said, when Jacob had been given his exceeding great fortune with perfect good will, he went back to his own country with it all, by Divine inspiration. And when the soul that is proficient in contemplation has feasted freely upon love, that feast brings to an end this brief and troublous life, and the soul journeys to the presence of God, and to the life to come, which is our own land, our native country or city. So, as is explained in the foregoing chapter, a man passes through these four ages of our spiritual life and reaches the perfect age of quiet contemplation. The first stage, that of our self-knowledge, is the age of the beginner; and the second, which comprises the imitation of, and meditation upon, the loftiest mysteries of our most gracious (Lord and) Mirror, Christ Jesus, is the age of the proficient. And in the third stage, the soul rises freely from the least of the creatures to the love of his Creator, and, when it has grown in faith, comes to know and love the creature solely because of Him Who created them; and this third age is that of souls that are coming nearer to perfection but have not yet reached it. The last stage is the fourth, wherein the soul rises freely with ready affection by the way of aspiration, and, in order to serve God as often as it desires, has no need of creatures, or of anything but God, for love asks only to be united to the Beloved, from Whom it proceeds; and this science is learned, in the fourth age of the spiritual life, by means of mystical theology.
So the first of these four ages corresponds to the infancy of material life of our puny bodies; the second, to childhood; the third, to adolescence; and the fourth, to young manhood. The growth continues till the end of the fourth age, which is that of material perfection, and, when it is past, the body, instead of continuing to grow, shrinks and becomes smaller. So that after this perfection of growth comes old age, and in the end decrepitude, and the longer our life lasts, the more our bodies shrink, and (the greater), as David says in the eighty-ninth Psalm, (is) their labour and sorrow. But in this fourth and perfect spiritual age it is not so; far from declining in amy way, the soul comes ever nearer to perfection, until it has grown to its fullest stature and reaches the high perfection which is attained in glory, and growth beyond which is impossible.
This figured with aptness, delicacy and grace in the forty-seventh chapter of the book of the prophet Ezekiel. The prophet, being within sight of many waters, saw an angel with a line in his hand, wherewith he measured a thousand cubits - which would be about a thousand paces - and he brought him through the water, which he had measured, and the prophet says that the water came only up to the ankles. Then he measured a thousand more, and brought the prophet farther in the water, and he says there was so much more water that it came up to his knees. And he measured another thousand, and brought him still farther, and the water had now risen so high that it came up to his reins, or kidneys, or loins. Then he measured yet a thousand more, and the water had now risen so much that he could not ford it, so that he stayed on the bank and could not pass over. Now it has been explained in the foregoing chapter that the periods of years during which Jacob served Laban signify the four ages of those greatest of contemplatives who attain to perfection. The first years, which, as has been shown, are concerned with the knowledge of our annihilation, correspond precisely to those first thousand steps. For, just as the water came only up to the ankles, so this self-knowledge of ours raises us but little above the earth, since it is upon the earth that it is founded. We are created of clay, and we are going to be earth - so may God be our protection.
As it behoves not one who desires to make progress to remain at this stage of self-knowledge, the author then says that the angel measured a thousand cubits more, and brought the prophet through them. In the second stage, he says, the water came up to his knees, indicating that the soul is growing in years spiritually. The soul that in the first thousand cubits passed not beyond self-knowledge has grown in the imitation of Christ and in meditation upon Him and His high mysteries. Here it is to be noted that to these waters of Ezekiel which came up to the knees correspond the words of Saint Paul, who, in the second chapter of his epistle to the Philippians, says: 'In the name of Jesus, let every knee bow...' So the second water which comes up to the knees and the second seven years of the service which Jacob gave to Laban in order that he might wed Rachel signify and figure to us this second stage, in the which we rise above our humiliation to the imitation of Jesus Christ and to meditation upon His mysteries, in Whose name let every knee be bent, as has been said. But this second age is not perfection to the contemplative, and the author goes on to describe how the angel measured yet a thousand cubits more and brought the prophet through them. The water now reaches to the reins; and this denotes the approach to man's estate, which is characterized by the power to beget or generate; so we read in our author that Jacob had a wife and children, being of almost perfect manhood or approaching the estate of perfection very nearly.
And, as those who would make the greatest progress must pass farther, it hehoves them not to continue in meditation and imitation of the mysteries, for, great as is the merit of these, they contain not the perfection of love. This, as we read in the holy Gospel, the gentlest Jesus showed to His beloved disciples, putting before them the weakness of their love in these words from the fourteenth chapter of Saint John:'If ye loved Me, ye would indeed rejoice, because I go to the Eternal Father.' Which is as though He had said:'Perfection of love seeks not the convenience of the lover; and because ye rejoice in seeing this Divine Presence, ye should not wish to forgo the profit proper to your consolation. Wherefore ye must know that it suffices not the true lover that he should love and pray in truth; if ye are to perfect your love, ye must love in spirit - that is, both in spirit and in truth, Ye love only in truth when ye occupy yourselves in your meditations with bodily things - I mean, when you occupy your love only in the highest mysteries of the Divine Humanity, like persons who feed only on this Divine Presence, and when ye show yourselves sad because I am leaving you.
'But let your love grow, and let it pass from the perfect truth which ye have in the mysteries of the Sacred Humanity to the pefect goodness of Uncreated Divinity, and then shall ye love in spirit, with a peaceful and most quiet will, what now ye love, with unquiet understanding, in truth. So that true prayer and adoration consist in adoring in spirit and in truth, and perfection and strength of love consist in the employment of the whole will in spirit alone, for, as Saint John says in the fourth chapter of his Gospel:"The Father is spirit," and His will is that those who adore Him shall be spirit likewise - that is to say, He wills that ye should know Him in Me - for he who hath seen Me hath seen the Eternal Father - and possess Him and enjoy Him in uncreated and inaccessible spirit'
So we have learned here that love in perfection does not consist in meditation on the Sacred Humanity, but in quiet and perfected contemplation of the inaccessible Divinity. Therefore said our gentlest Saviour to His Apostles: 'Ye should surely rejoice, because I go to the Eternal Father' - because it is necessary for your perfection that ye should be deprived of My bodily presence so that your affections may be aroused and may rise higher.
There is a close correspondence between this and the words of Saint Jerome in his homily on the sixteenth chapter of Saint Matthew, concerning the reply made to the question of Christ Jesus, our Good, by the glorious Saint Peter: 'Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.' On this he says: 'Those who speak about the Virgin's Son are men; but those who contemplate Him in His Divinity should not be called men, but gods.' This passage from Saint Jerome corresponds with the words of the prophet David, in the eighty-first Psalm: 'I have said, ye are gods, and sons of our God Most High.' Concerning this, it must be understood that God created these souls in His image; which means that they are like Him in having their wills set upon His will alone. For this reason you must understand that the more alive and pure a soul is, and the greater is the simplicity with which it loves Him, the more like it is to Him: since, as He is infinite love, and infinitely to be loved, He loves Himself infinitely. So the soul that in this happiest of activities is most steadfast, and most active, and most pure will be most like to Him. And the Uncreated Love that created the soul in such wise that it could always love will always give it abundance of created love: I mean that He will infuse and create a living love in the soul's inmost being so that it will never fail to love if it be always prepared to receive love and itself does all that lies in its power.
Observe that if we should say we cannot fast or do other things of that kind, it is reasonable that we should be believed but if we say that we cannot love to the uttermost we shall not be believed. That is a saying of Saint Augustine in a sermon about many martyrs. And he is perfectly right; for as God is infinitely to be loved, and the soul is created in the image of Love, it will certainly always be able to love if it always prepare itself to do so. And because the perfection of our spotless law is set before us in the first of the Ten Commandments, which properly belongs to the soul, and because in His love for us Christ laid down His life without making any condition, for all those reasons the strength of living love bids us be ready to die for Him Who so loved us, for, as the infallible Scripture tells us in the fifteenth chapter of Saint John's Gospel:'Greater charity hath no man that laying down his soul' - that is to say, his life, out of love for One Who has so truly loved us.
Again the Scripture says, in the sixteenth chapter of Sain Matthew, that, he who loses his life for love of Him shall find it in the Heavenly country. Those, then, who love after this manner have a true and living love and do all that is possible for those of their puny strength in order to hold it fast in the depths of their being, and to keep themselves in a state of love, as much as is possible to them, and with great perseverance and the most living affection, Him Who is an ocean of love and must be loved infinitely. From this we shall gather that those who in this manner, and without any condition, love our incomprehensible God are those to whom David refers in the passage quotedd above:'I have said to you, ye are gods.' This is as if he had said: Ye are created in the image and likeness of our God and Lord, ye employ yourselves in the love wherewith God loves you, and ye are of one and the same will with Him.

CHAPTER 5 - Of the High Dignity of the Contemplation which is Pure, Simple and Most Quiet
In the homily referred to, Saint Jerome says that those who contemplate the inaccessible Divinity should not be called men, but gods, because quiet contemplatives, perfected in the sublimity of the peace of pure contemplation, are unaware of created things, including even the seasons of true quiet which they enjoy. You much understand that, when I say they are unaware of them, I mean that, if they should be aware of them, they cannot say what it is of which they are aware; yet their souls are satisfied with this great sublimity. And quiet contemplation comprehends that which it touches, but penetrates not with the understanding, because the most perfect object of its holy activity is incomprehensible. For this reason the glorious Saint Jerome, who knew well what he was saying, declared that those who practise obsolute and pure contemplation of the incomprehensible Divinity are not men, but gods. Which is as if he had said: With regard to such perfect contemplatives, in whom neither understanding nor natural reason works, we must realize that God alone works in them, and, through this perfect work, He Who works most perfectly grants the most perfect contemplatives this ineffable favour.
If we return to the passage in Ezekiel from which we were quoting, we shall observe that for the water in the third stage to come up to the loins is for a spiritual person to pass the stage of mere progress and approach that of perfect contemplation. But, as has been said, any perfect man reaches the stage of greatest perfection in this fourth stage, so for the fourth time the angel measured a thousand cubits and brought the prophet that distance farther; and there were a stream there so broad and so high that it could not be forded. By this we are to understand that, when contemplative souls have reached the perfection of quiet, by means of which, and not otherwise, the contemplative soul attains the perfection of its age, it no longer has to labour, nor does it use argument or quickness of understanding, nor does it base itself upon natural reason. There are no more waters now for the prophet to pass through. Peacefully, without labour and by Divine inspiration, it reaches its own country, with all its possessions, as did the great patriarch Jacob, who, as has been said, endured great trials, and much cold and heat, in the service which he rendered for twenty years.
Here it should be particularly observed that he says:'Many times during these twenty years has sleep departed from my eyes. By this we are to understand that, in this matter of high contemplation, vigils (that is, periods without sleep), if practised willingly, are very highly to be esteemed; provided they be discreetly moderated, for, while these poor bodies of ours must not be given more than they need and for the love of God must be denied all superfluity, still, for the sake of this love, we must not deprive them of that which they need, or they will be unable to lead us along the road of love. So Ezekiel says the waters of the stream could not be forded, for, as Saint Gregory remarks in his moral exposition on the thirty-first chapter of Job:'The very wisdom which raises the soul to knowledge of itself denies comprehension to the understanding, so that it may taste wisdom when it touches it, and yet, though passing through it, may not penetrate it.' We must realize, then, that our unsearchable God is incomprehensible and incogitable and inaccessible; for which reason the highest point of perfection attained by the greatest contemplatives may touch that point of eternal wisdom which God, of His good pleasure, may deign to allow such souls to taste, and that even then, in the sublimest perfection of all, they find the waters rising so high that they cannot be forded. And may God protect all.

CHAPTER 6 - Of Two Different Manners of Growth in Perfect Contemplation
The growth of the patriarch's years of service proceeds by periods of seven years at a time, because seven is a perfect number. And the stages of the prophet's progress increase by a thousand at a time because any number that is multiplied may extend thus far. So we may understand by the increases of seven years the growth of the contemplative life; and, when it increases farther, the increase is represented by the number one thousand, and it increases four times according to the four stages of growth of any contemplative who attains perfection, as has been said. And it must be known that no contemplative attains the sublime state of peaceful quiet in perfect contemplation without passing through these ages in order, at due intervals of time, growing up as a child does and finding himself more fully grown withoug having been aware of the change, just as comes to pass in the growth of the body. We eat every day and our bodies increase in size; we cannot see the growth, but we see that it has taken place.
In the same way, if these souls are given continual sustenance, they grow in virtue more and more. Because of their humility they cannot see their own growth, but they find themselves more fully grown and pass from one stage to another, and, by following their path, attain perfection. I express it thus because such progress does not always go by measure, for it is very certain that the operations of our God and Lord are never confined to measures of time and any who would thus confine them are greatly to be blamed. This is strikingly pictured in the eighth chapter of Judith, where we read that the inhabitants of a city of Israel, who were attacked by Holofernes, agreed among themselves to surrender to him if five days passed without their receiving succour from God. Whereupon God aroused the eager spirit of Judith, a frail and delicate woman, but with a virile soul, who cried out to these bearded men and said to them:'Who are ye, that have dared to tempt the Lord? The agreement you have made is not such as to inspire mercy but rather stir up wrath.' And to show they how blameworthy was their manifest error, she said to them:'Ye have set a limit of time to the mercies of God, according to your own judgement, and ye have appointed Him a day by which to do your will, and this is shame and confusion. So for our purpose we shall say that by this holy woman Judith is denoted any soul that is fortified by faith; for the interpretation (of her name) signifies one that trusts and glorifies; and this name is even more applicable to the soul here portrayed, when it rebukes the people - that is to say, the motions of weakness and concupiscence that crowd together in our lower selves, our feeble inclinations and the pettiness of our nature, which can understand only that which is presented to it by the bodily senses, when these are besieged by our sensuality - namely this chieftain Holofernes - whom the devil incites to it - though in truth this Holofernes is the devil himself. From this it is to be understood that to describe it as absolute necessary for any proficient walking on the path of contemplation to spend any fixed period of time on such matters during the season of this growth would be to prescribe a time and to set a fixed day for the most potent operations of our God and Lord, Who does what He wills, and as He wills, and when He wills, that He may be glorified.
Now this that has been said refers to the most ordinary road, and to the path most commonly taken, that of scholastic theology, which is the science that we men can communicate to one another in the course of our contemplation. In does not, however, refere to the delectable science or wisdom, or mystical theology, which God teaches within the soul in as short a space of time as He wills, raising it up on an instant by the path of aspiration. And with respect to this operation of God I will say here two or three things to His glory. One is that I know a soul, still in this life, in whom, when she was in the delicate age of tenderest childhood, our God worked several wonders which cannot be set down on paper. Before she was five years old she had a great love for God, without understanding what she was loving. She was accustomed to say three Avemarias, and to offer them to a picture (of Our Lady) with her little Child in her arms, which hung on a wall, and she could not grasp that there was any other Saint Mary than this, nor any other God that this Child. She was wont, on her knees to say this simple prayer: 'Take these Avemarias, Lady, and give them to your Son, so that I may be a good woman when I grow up.' And this comprised the whole of her devotions.
When still a young child she was enraptured in spirit and learned the meaning of this truth and of many other truths as well. Since then more than fifty years have passed over this soul, during which God has worked in her very many mysteries, to the glory of His goodness. No periods of growth such as we have described were necessary for this soul to attain perfection : she grew by the great goodness of God, Who is far above nature.
Again, I know another nun who was the daughter of a labourer, and abounded only in poverty, who, when a poor, insignificant little girl, desired to serve God, without knowing Who He was. Every Friday, impelled by a fervour rare in childhood, she would go from her house into the country, which, as she lived in a village, was close at hand, pluck buds of yellow broom and extract the juice from them as best as she could, and drink it before she ate anything. She would also go into hiding and beat herself, and all for love of God, of Whom she knew so little. As she grew to womanhood, so many virtues grew in her, and to such abundance of devotion was she brought by God's goodness, that, now she is old, she has such riches that only God knows how rich she is, and how He is glorified in her, In these women we can contemplate two different ways in the which our God works. The first woman He brought to perfection in her childhood. To the second He showed Himself as her sole Master and impelled her to those acts of tender love, and by the path of gradual growth brought her to perfection ; and so sublime in her perfection is she that, though I realize its extent, I cannot describe it. You see how diverse are the operations of our God and Lord: in neither case is there any limitation of time to that which He is pleased to do, for He hath done all things whatsoever He would, and nothing is impossible to His Divine will, which worketh as He wills and when He wills, in season and out of season, and by stages or no, as seemeth Him good. May the angels give Him glory. Amen

CHAPTER 7 - How Perfection is sought by the despising of False Consolations and by the Soul's Withdrawal
There is a passage in Saint Ambrose wherein he is speaking to proficients in contemplation, and, in order to inspire them to loftier progress and to a higher state of perfection, says to them : 'Let us embrace a holy ambition - that is to say, let us not be content with the kind of gain that we have had down to the present, but, estimable as the past may be, endeavour to achieve a greater.' This blessed contemplative desires to teach us here that, as Our Lord made us capable of a greater perfection, we should strive to attain it. 'Let us not be content with low things', says the author, meaning, 'Let us abandon all the things which are attainable by our understanding, and all that we can achieve by human diligence and industry'. 'Let us go forward thirstily', he continues, meaning, 'Let us quicken our affective nature and our hunger for love'. And, he adds, 'by yearning' - that is, by giving employment to the desires that are enkindled in love of the highest good. And he concludes with these words: 'Until we reach the final and sovereign things' ; by which he means : 'Until we reach the touches of love which are of supreme worth, which it is impossible to attain by any industry or human solicitude.' For which cause in this perfect manner of contemplation the work of the understanding alone suffices not, neither does the aid of the memory, nor natural reason, nor, in short, any of the things that a man habitually does, or is able to do, for himself in order to give himself to prayer.
When we have passed along the Purgative Way, which is described in the first book, and have given time to the Illuminative Way, according to the second book; when we have practised ourselves herein for a space and learned to know what we are worth and to recognise our utter powerlessness; when we have gazed fixedly into the brightest of mirrors - namely, that of the mysteries of Christ Jesus, and of His life - and have likewise gazed at our God and Lord in the dark mirrors of all visible creatures : then let us, with Saint Ambrose, embrace this holy ambition, to which he calls and invites us. This we shall do by renouncing all the said exterior operations and remaining alone within ourselves in the silence of love, inspired only by our loving will without understanding how that will works. Learn thou, however, that in this most quiet manner of working there is only One Who works, and that One is Divine Condescension.
Learn thou, too, that in this work there is only one who is worked upon - namely the soul that contemplates without natural aid, without putting into the operation more of itself than a desire for God alone, and helped by His grace. And this desire is a most living one; and the soul desire nothing more that it can be given, even of Divine gifts, save only God. For as to aught else, not only is it well for the soul not to desire it, but it must even reject it with vehemence and of its own free will. And it should be noted that at the time of quiet this rejection must extend to all created things, and there must be not the slightest movement of the understanding or of the natural reason, and in the other intervals or spaces of time which pass without the serenity of this hidden quiet the counsel of the Psalmist must be taken, where, in the seventy-sixth Psalm, he tells us that he despised all created things, and would console his spirit with none of them, saying : 'I remembered my God, and delighted in Him, and exercised myself in His love, and my spirit swooned away.' Here, by the swooning away of his spirit, the loving Psalmist is seen to be seeking to indicate the silent and most secret withdrawal of his soul within itself. It was because of this delight of his that his spirit swooned away, and the delight was caused by the memory of his God. And it is shown that it was because of this silent and intimate sweetness of the memory that he despised all human consolation. It is to be understood, therefore, that in the swooning away of his spirit he shows us the most quiet operation of the most sublime perfection of his sweet will.
It is clear from this that much of the contemplative's perfection lies in the straitest withdrawal of the soul within itself. And such a complete withdrawal demands a previous and continuous despising of human consolations without which the soul can exist, and during the season of its quiet it must despise every movement of the intellectual faculty and of natural operation, for that which is given to it by Divine condescension transcends natural reason and all that it can comprehend. This the Psalmist shows us in the verse just quoted. His spirit swooned away while he exercised himself, for, after the preparation which he had undergone in despising human consolation, he received what his spirit could not apprehend without swooning. And may God protect all men.

CHAPTER 8 - How Great are the Blessings which come from the Soul's State of Repose after the silencing of the Faculties
It is to be understood that this third book is concerned with the Unitive Way, which, by the force of gentle love, unites the soul with God. It must be realized that the discursive operation of the faculties of the soul signifies imperfection. I do not mean to imply that the work of the understanding in meditation is totally devoid of good and has no high merit; but I should wish it to be clear that between this and the quiet of the soul in its hidden peace there is as much difference as between that which has little perfection and that which has the highest degree thereof. And thus, in the ascent of the mount - that is, in the first and second books, which you have already read - is described the path of discursive reasoning. In this third part it is understood that the summit or height of the mount has already been reached, and the soul is now quiet in its hidden silence, and can keep silent vigil and enjoy that which God, of His clemency, is wont to give to a soul in its strait solitude and in secret silence. Concerning this the glorious Saint Augustine says that the man is blessed who remains alone and in silence, for he keeps a careful guard over himself by night and by day. Though he be still living in the brittle vessel of this weak body, he is able to taste the sweetness received from his God as a pledge, or sign, or token, of the eternal sweetness which He has laid up for souls that exercise such care.
It should be noted that there are points in this passage which give no small help to the recollected soul. The use of the word 'man' signifies that this solitude and silence of the soul are to be attained by manly effort, together with the vigilance and watchfulness over itself that the soul must have in order to be able to reject the feelings of sense and to pay no heed to natural reason and to the discursive operations of the understanding, which is as great a hindrance to the way of perfection and peaceful silence as it is a help to beginners and to progressives. And it should be noted that this blessedness consists in solitude and silence, for the passage continues: 'Blessed is the man who is alone and keeps silence.' Who is unaware that a man who talks when he is alone gives cause that others may judge him as weak-minded and of little ability? He who considers this will think that silence in one who is withdrawn apart in the straitest solitude is over-praised, for it is certain that he will not speak; wherefore it should be noted that this solitude signifies the rejection of all that is not God and the peace of the soul that is alone in Him, just as though there were no created thing save that soul which is contemplating God alone and has naught but Him wherewith to occupy itself. For this occupation of the soul will be so silent and peaceful, so hidden and so solitary, that in this seaon of quiet it will not desire the company of its own faculties, or be aware of them. It will be understood, then, that it is this solitude of the peaceful soul which brings the blessedness whereof we have spoken. Who, then, will realize the nature of this solitude and will not see what kind of silence it is that accompanies it? As our author says, the contemplative soul whom he describes must be alone and keep silence.
It is certain, and very evident, that it is not silence from words which is spoken of, but a silence of the understanding, a serenity of the memory and a quietness of the will. At such a time there must be not a shadow of thought concerning aught soever, nor must aught else be done, nor other operation be performed, save only the affective, whereby the soul is occupied in love, for if anything were to excite the soul the silence would not be one of perfect solitude. Denuded of its faculties, the soul must be wrapped round in love, and must have no other separate occupation. It must be noted that in this matter of pure contemplation the faculty of our free will ceases not for a moment to occupy itself in love, but in this its occupation there must be no consciousness or feeling of the least excitment, nor is there any way therein the soul can be aware of the perfection of that which it is doing, save in its own satisfaction, when it is transformed into its Beloved through the bond of love. Certainly and of a truth it can be affirmed that the intensity of love increases as the lover withdraws himself farther from everything that incites him not to love. Now this passage from Saint Augustine tells us that this man - that is, the manly soul that is able to withdraw within itself and remain there alone, and not only be silent as regards all excitment from without, but keep the straitest silence as regards every interior movement of the faculties - this soul, I say, even while still living in this our dunghill of a body, will be enabled to have some taste of Divine fellowship.
It is to be carefully noted that this blessed fellowship of this soul with its God cannot possibly be attained unless, as Saint Dionysius says, one knows by mystical theology what is meant by hidden wisdom, whereby the soul is made wise. This is a most secret science, and the Master Who teaches it to souls is Wisdom Uncreated. He proclaims not this lesson of His in public, nor does He teach it to a soul that disperses itself abroad, instead of being withdrawn within itself and immersed in the quiet of interior words, and occupies itself in natural reasoning and in operations of the understanding. For this hidden science which God infuses in the soul that is withdrawn into its quiet transcends every material operation, for which cause all the help that we can give ourselves at this season by our own efforts becomes naught but an impediment.
We conclude, then, that, since solitude is the soul's hiding place and the guardian of its quiet silence, it is also the school of this blessed wisdom, by means whereof the happy soul may be drawn near to its inaccessible God by the bond of most peaceful love, without the intermediacy, in such union, of any thought, it being presupposed that the Purgative and Illuminative Ways, described in the first and second parts of this book, have been traversed, and that the soul has purity of conscience. And it is because of the pre-eminent importance of silence and solitude that the blessed Augustine says that the soul is blessed that keeps a manly watch and guard over its interior quiet, since such a soul can taste the sweetness wherewith we are visited by our inaccessible God. May He, through His infinite goodness, be the Protector of all. Amen.

CHAPTER 9 - That the Practice of Quiet causes the Soul to rise up on the Wings of Love
Whenever in this third book mention is made of infused science, or hidden wisdom, or secret or mystical theology, or the practice of aspiration, it is to be understood as signifying a sudden and momentary uplifting of the mind, wherein, by Divine instruction, the soul is raised up suddenly, through pure love, by the affective way alone, to union with its most loving God, without the intervention of any thought, or operation of the intellect, or understanding, or natural reasoning. It should be noted, as has been remarked elsewhere, that this operation transcends reason and human understanding, just as we very truthfully say of the mysteries of our spotless Catholic Faith - such as the most high mystery of the Incarnation of the Divine Word and of the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar, and many more - that they are not founded on natural reasoning neither do they admit of comprehension. Even so must we understand that reason and understanding are transcended by this Divine operation, whereby in a moment the soul is raised up on the wings of love and united with its God, without the mediacy of thought of any created thing, whensoever the Divine Condescension is so pleased. On our side, this sovereign operation presents considerable difficulty at the first, but, if we persevere with determination in this raising up of the affective nature, it becomes so easy that, according to high contemplatives, the well-schooled soul can soar momentarily to its God, and unite itself with Him in love, almost whenever it pleases. With respect to this, Saint Dionysius says, and the high contemplatives Herp and Henry de Balma confirm it, that this comes to pass in the practised and whensoever it is so pleased, and with such facility that they cannot say when it comes.
It most be observed that the soul puts nothing of its own into this union and this soaring aloft to its God save its free will, for He Who works is our God. After the soul has frequently exercised this free will, and raised its affective nature, quickened by the love wherewith God quickens it, it attains this felicity - and even in these days there are those, by Divine permission, who can affirm and show by means of witnesses how great is this truth. We shall perceive with an intimate joy that facility in this blessed act of soaring aloft is due, not to the frequency and solicitude wherewith the soul practises it, but to the number of times at which it is visited by its most loving God, having prepared itself for such visits by purity of intent. For, the more the soul is visited by Him Who quickens it, the more grace is given to it, and thus it can oftener ask for, and receive, love. So that, as often as our Lord and loving Physician visits the soul that is faint with love of Him, He brings it into a state wherein it neither can escape the arrows of love, nor desires to do so. It is not without a Physician, for He heals it perfectly with a single glance, and, whensoever it suddenly complains of its infirmity, even so often, promptly and rapidly, comes the visitation of its Beloved Physician to heal it. Though it never ceases to feel itself stricken by love, it is already healed before ever it is stricken.
It is clear, then, that there never was, nor can there ever be, a king so powerful that, however heavy his batteries or vast his munitions, he could conquer any other king or lord with such facility as that wherewith the enamoured soul can vanquish, take and hold its loving Lord by means of love only. And the reason thereof is this. It is His own clemency that has conquered Him, and hard upon this conquest comes the combat with the enamoured soul, wherein the blows are of love. Thus he who combats must needs be taken prisoner and in his imprisonment he takes his opponent prisoner also. And may He ever be our protection.

CHAPTER 10 - In what Blessed Wise Love prevails in Perfect Contemplation Saint Dionysius, in the Divine Names, says that God is called love; whence it is to be noted that, as Love Uncreated is in combat with the love that It creates in souls, these two loves, when the meet, must needs be united in one. And the love that seeks must ever find, and He Who is found must be apprehended by the love that has found Him, and, as they apprehend each other, both loves must be taken captive, and, as they take each other captive, they must hold each other, and love created must not loose its hold on Love Uncreated. Nor will Love Uncreated loose love created, or allow Himself to be loosed, for this combat with the enamoured soul has come hard upon the conquest of Himself by His own clemency. Thus it is represented by our Mother, Holy Church, taking the words of us who offend Him. 'O Lord our God,' she says to him, 'Thou didst suffer cruel death to free us from death eternal.' So in the end the Divine clemency and the combat of love, with its many blows - I mean by this the touches exchanged by our loving Lord and the soul that is sick with love for Him - arouse much fervour, so often as the soul is pleased to soar in love to God, of a sudden awakens the affections; and then, as the soul rises, it is taken captive, and in its turn takes Him Who took it. So the two captives - to wit, Love Uncreated and the soul wherein He creates love - will be united with one single bond, and bound in a union or juncture of love. Let it be known that love never seeks without finding, never finds without taking captive, never takes captive without possessing, never possesses without enjoying. Oh, Sweetness of souls that are sick with love for Thee, who will grant me to feel if the living desire of the affection that has soared upward and the strength of love wherewith Thou art sought by the soul will bear the soul to Thee, or if Thou, Love Uncreated, dost come to the enamoured soul to heal the infirmity of its inmost parts that are sick with love for Thee?
Certain it is that the love which rises from the enamoured soul goes not to Thee by withdrawing itself from the said soul to which Thou givest love. Nay, it bears it whithersoever it goes, and remains with it, for the soul is more truly where it dwells through love, than in this mortal body which it animates. Well do we know, oh, love of those that love Thee deeply, that Thou hast promised us to come to the souls that love Thee deeply, that Thou hast promised us to come to the souls that love Thee, and said that Thou and Thy Eternal Father, with Whom Thou art one only and essential Substance, will be with them.
Then, as God is love, whensoever He visits the soul that is wounded with His love, and whose wounds are so keen that they are felt in its inmost, tenderest depths, it cannot but be that, as often as this enamoured soul is sensible of the visitation of the love that wounded it, even so often must this feeling arise in its will and in its affective nature, bringing about the union of love which was the cause of these wounds and is its remedy.
The high contemplative Henry de Balma says that, in the close and most secret union of the soul with its God by the bond of love, it is made more capable of receiving more, and becomes clearer and more transcendental in its understanding, and is the better able to soar momentarily on the wings of love alone, without the aid of any kind of thought, and without any preparation. Being well practiced by continual custom, it needs naught but desire; for, as has been said, the Divine visitation, which is made through condescension of God, gives it ever greater capacity. And it is to be noted that, because this science is a secret one, it cannot be attained by temporal learning, nor can it be understood by the senses of those that are given to temporal things. It is for this reason that Saint Dionysius, writing to Timothy on this hidden science, warns him straitly, as follows: 'See well to it that thou say naught concerning these things to any of those who are not instructed.' Furthermore, at the end of the first chapter of his Mystical Theology, Saint Dionysius says: 'At each touch wherewith Love Uncreated strikes the soul, the understanding is so marvellously illumined that it can comprehend and penetrate very secret things and the true sense of passages of Scripture; for. as it is love that raises the soul, and that same love unites it to Love Uncreated, the soul is illumined and enlightened, by means of that union, and so greatly quickened that it can realize that the love which touched it, and the love which enlightens its vision, and the love which holds it in itself are all one Love Uncreated.
It realizes furthermore that that same Uncreated Love infuses love into it, and that it is on the wings of that love that it flies whensoever it desires to soar in an instant to its loving God. It realizes, too, that the same love which raises it is also a bond or a viscid thing wherewith, at the moment when it is raised aloft, it becomes joined or united with Love Uncreated, which has created in it the love whereby it flies. So that its love, and its wings, and the bond, and the determination - all these are one and the same love infused or created within it, and the love which wounded it, and which raises it, and receives it, and gives it satisfaction, and enlightens its vision, and explains to it what it could never learn with its understanding, is that same Love Uncreated, and it is this Love which teaches that hidden science or wisdom and celestial theology. In this sudden upraising of the affective nature, in this secret wisdom or celestial theology, which can bear souls away and unite them in an instant with their God, those that are practised therein have clearly proved that, even as in this exercise of aspiration the spirit is most quickly and most surely lifted up, so too is this the most quick and certain manner of gathering together the dispersed of Israel. I mean that in this way we become suddenly recollected and the wanderings of our incautious thoughts are dispersed, together with all the fantasies and imaginings which hinder interior recollection. Here it must be observed that, the more the soul's will is uplifted, so much the more are the virtues linked up and united together, and the senses are curbed, and the natural corruption of these our bodies is weakened; by means of which bodies the angel of Satan dares to sully the purity of earnest souls and make them to suffer from unrighteous and bestial feelings.
So let it be concluded from this that, the more numerous and frequent are the occasions whereon the affective nature soars upwards, and the spirit flies to God, the more do the bestial inclinations of these miserable bodies wither, waste away and become consumed. From these may God bring us forth in peace, and may all the souls that He has created praise Him.

CHAPTER 11 - That there can be no Pure Contemplation save if One forsakes the Creatures and all Bodily Things
Concerning this celestial and hidden wisdom Saint Dionysius, in the seventh chapter of the book of the Divine Names, says as follows : 'The wisdom whereof we speak is a most lofty knowledge of God, Who is known by a manner of unknowing, according to the union of the will; and it is withdrawn from all created things, and draws near to the resplendent rays in a manner most profound and incomprehensible.' Now this hidden wisdom lifts up the will to God, without any intervention of the understanding, or reason, or of any thought, as has been said. It must therefore be understood that, in this exercise of aspiration, wherein the affective nature, which is the soul's desire, suddenly soars to God, there must never be the least thought of any created thing; and the meaning of this statement could be described in much greater detail if there were many who, by means of teaching or experience, could understand it.
It should be observed that, when Saint Dionysius says in this passage that God is known, through this secret wisdom, by a manner of unknowing, the phrase can be understood in two ways. First, it may mean that, during that period wherein the soul is withdrawn into its quietness, it can understand naught whatsoever that is not God. As to the second mode of this understanding, in the secrecy of this wisdom, the soul knows that it is united with the Divine fellowship, through Divine condescension, by a bond of love; yet, notwithstanding, its knowledge is such that is understands not how it understands that which it understands. It knows it has a knowledge of God, but, because He Whom it knows is incomprehensible, it know not how to know through understanding. And in this not understanding it has complete satisfaction, since it can desire naught (nothing) else save to love.' It must be observed, then, that this manner of procedure is not understood by many, since few are prepared, in their contemplation, to reject all that they are capable of receiving, especially everything corporeal. It is for this reason that it is said to be hidden wisdom - that is, wisdom not found by them that seek God otherwise than in the truth of pure spirit.
Contemplatives who are unable to forsake corporeal things should know that they will not fail to gain very great merit, although they will not reach the worthy estate of men who are purely and absolutely spiritual. With respect to this, Henry Herp, a theologian excellent and enlightened as regards pure contemplation, says that contemplation is of two kinds. One of these is practised by means of created things, through the operation of the understanding, and this demands much labour of the faculties and a long period of time : it may bring great profit, but, if it goes no farther, it never attains perfection. The second kind, he says, entails no labour at all ; it costs little time, and wins great merit, and always tends to perfection. It must be added, however, as this theologian says, that this is a hidden way, found by few. When he says 'few', he means by comparison with the many who are content not to leave corporeal things. This hidden way is the path of aspiration, or mystical theology, whereof something has been said already and much more will be said if it be Christ Jesus' will. May He be ever our protection.

CHAPTER 12 - Of the Two Eyes of the Soul, and how the Sight of the One differs from the Sight of the Other, and what is meant by the Affective Nature
Saint Dionysius, writing to Timothy on the practice of this celestial science, warns him that with great contrition - that is to say, by making great efforts and breaking his natural inclinations - he should strive to withdraw himself from all outpourings of the understanding, all that pertains to sense, all things that are and are not, all operations that can be understood or are founded upon reason. And the same Saint Dionysius adds: 'After this, raise thyself subtly to the knowledge of Him Who is above all subtance.' Concerning this it is to be oberved that this raising-up by means of the affection is naught else the moving of our free will, without movement, in the order of love alone. But it must be understood that the eyes of our soul are the will and the understanding. With the understanding the soul looks as it were into a mirror and sees in the creatures the Creator of them all. In this gazing into a mirror, and seeing the (reflection of the) creatures, this  eye must be completely closed. The second eye, wherewith the soul gazes upon God without seeing aught created, is the noble strength of the soul - that is to say, the will. And this eye never gazes fixedly at the Beloved without the penetrating of the heart by the ray of love which proceeds from its interior splendour.
And it must be know and felt, with gladness of soul, that when in the Canticles the Spouse of loving souls says to the soul which He woos, 'Thou hast wounded my heart, my spouse, with one of thine eyes', this must always be taken as referring to the loving eye of the will of the enamoured soul, the pupil of which resplendent eye is the affective nature or disposition of the highest and chiefest part of the soul. This vivacity of the affective nature, which demands ever to be carried upward to its God, is a most living spark, called by theologians synderesis, or synteresis - a word meaning a quick and complete attentiveness which soars aloft, through long habit, to the Sovereign Good. All quiet and practised contemplatives recognize this in themselves, and they realize and know when they possess it.
It must also be observed that we who are weak and unpractised often need to open the eye of the understanding and look with it upon created things, and direct our gaze upward to the Creator of them all, using that which the understanding has shown us. We shall not do this, however, save when our affective nature finds itself impeded. Concerning this, the high contemplative Henry Herp says in his Golden Directory that the faculties of the soul are to it what bees are to the hive. The bees leave the hive when they need to do so, fly about from flower to flower, touch each, load themselves with the purest part of it, and, enriched with their load, re-enter their hive and set to work to turn the load which they have brought into wax and honey. Even so must the soul do when it finds itself unready to rise on the wings of love. It must send out its (memory and) understanding to gather from the creatures, as it were from flowers, with measure and discretion, the power and wisdom and goodness of their Creator; and, as soon as they find some satisfaction therein, the bees - that is, the memory and the understanding - must re-enter the substance of the soul by the way of complete quiet and turn what they have found into the clarity of wax and the sweetness of honey, by means of a skill like that of the bees - that is to say, by means of the will, following the path of pure love. And then that which the bees have brought will become as precious as the honeycomb.
Those who make progress in contemplation by meditating on the creatures come to know their Creator, but herein there is little perfection; far greater perfection is it to know the creatures through the Creator of all things. A robust faith has a knowledge of the wisdom and goodness and power of its God, and would have such a knowledge even had He created nothing; when it sees the creatures, it cries out with joy: 'All this was created by my God, and yet I have no need to see them in order to know Him.' The understanding may also rise from the creatures to their God, and know Him through them, but in this there is little nobility, for after this manner even infidel philosophers knew Him, yet in such knowledge they had none of the loving inclination which Our Lord gives to faithful souls, wherein they receive from the creatures a delight and sweetness which bears them lovingly upward to Him. In the second kind of knowledge the soul descends from the Creator to the creatures, learning first to know Him through the gaze of living faith, and through love, and loving them because of Him and learning to know them through Him, which is a manner of knowledge much nearer to perfection. Nevertheless, though this is true meditation, it is not pure contemplation. It is not the rest enjoyed by the Magdelen, but the business of Martha.
We see, then, that there are two ways wherein our souls may learn to known God when they soar by way of the understanding converted into pure intelligence: this beomes contemplation with the will alone, which, as has been said, is uplifted through the mediacy of the understanding. This manner of contemplation is compared by Richard (of Saint Victor), in his Book of Twelve Patriarchs, to Rachel, whose name means 'gracious vision'. And, as the Holy Scripture says, in the twenty-ninth and thirty first chapters of Genesis, in order to marry this gracious vision Jacob served twice seven years; from which it may be inferred and known that those that seek God, Who is Ineffable Vision, must think it no great thing if in seeking Him and serving Him they spend twice seven years, which number seven signifies perfection. In this passage the contemplative soul of any beginner is admonished to persevere in His service, so that he may marry this Rachel, for as many years as her father, the true Laban, may demand of him. By Rachel, as has been said, is to be understood gracious vision - that is to say, living contemplation - but not, as we shall shortly see, perfect contemplation. And may God protect all men.

CHAPTER 13 - Of the Manner wherein High Contemplation may be attained through the Mysteries of Christ and through Our Great Lady
The second manner wherein the will may soar upward, through affection alone, in quiet contemplation, without intervention of the understanding, or of thought, or of any other occasion, comes to pass when it rises suddenly by the path of burning love to unite itself with its God, and draw greater love from the fount and source whence sprang the love whereby it raised itself. This manner of pure contemplation is a quiet one, and, if it be distinguished by the signs to be set down hereafterm the contemplation is perfect.
This contemplation is compared by Henry de Balma, in his book entitled Sun of contemplatives, to the Magdelen: he even says that there is as great a difference between this loving contemplation and that which has been described above as there is between the cheubim, who are enkindled in light, and the seraphim, who are on fire with a fire of love which is both greater and far more exceeding nobility. Just a Jacob - as we read in the twenty-ninth and thirty-first chapters of Genesis - served Laban for fourteen years in order to marry his daughter Rachel - whose name, as has been said signifies 'gracious vision' - so contemplatives must recognize that it is a small thing to serve for that number of years in order to approach perfection. It will be remembered that the Magdalen, in whom is figured perfect contemplation, served our God for thirty years - not including the first years of her service - in a most desert place, abandoning, scorning and despising every temporal source of consolation in order to enjoy quiet contemplation in its highest perfection. Her example is a reminder to all those who are progressing and advancing toward perfection of how needful it is to withdraw themselves from all things that are an impediment to them and from all that aids them not to attain that most quiet withdrawal of quiet contemplation, where God is the most readily found. From this it can be seen that thirty years is no long time to occupy oneself in love, since those who persevere faithfully and enter into fellowship with God will not leave it for ever and ever.
They that are perfect must not forget the mysteries of Christ Jesus, our Lord and Redeemer, but they must remember, when they meditate upon them, to remain in the state of quiet. For this reason they must not think upon aught that is corporeal, or admit it into the plan of their meditations. The soul must infuse itself only in that furnace of love, that living charity, that fire which enkindled His Divine Heart in the love of souls. To such an extend was He thus enkindled that if, to save the soul of a single one of those who crucified Him, He had had need to remain nailed so cruelly upon the Cross until the very end of the world, we cannot doubt that, in His infinite charity, He would have done so.
In this same way we may contemplate the living love wherewith, in His boundless goodness, wisdom and power, He willed to remain with man in the Holy Sacrament until the end of the world, so as to have them within Himself world without end. Likewise, when our understanding turns to the Fount of mercy through Who God redeemed us - namely, to the universal Lady of all that is not God, we must not think of her in any material way, but concentrate our understanding upon an abyss of graces, an empire of virtues, an ocean of goodness. And with respect to all this let us think upon a union of love which came to pass in the Divine Mind before the beginning of the ages, as is said of our great Lady in the twenty-fourth chapter of that book of wisdom, Ecclesiasticus : 'Before the ages I am in the Divine Mind, created by my Eternal God.'
From this we may gather how we must act when, on the path of perfect contemplation, our understanding returns of necessity to created things, to revert presently to its state of pure intelligence and convert itself into love, without which no contemplation is of any value. And it must be known that, when our understanding ceases from discursive meditation on any holy and righteous thought, and stays still and enjoys in quietude that whereon it was meditating, it is called 'intelligence'; and when in that quietude there is no intermingling or stirring of created things it is called pure 'pure intelligence'; and it behoves it to have some intellectual comprehension far removed from things corporeal so that it approaches pure contemplation. And may God protect us all.

CHAPTER 14 - How Inestimable are Wisdom of the Spirit and Living Desires for God
As was said in the ninth chapter, when I speak of mystical theology, or the practice of aspiration, or infused science, or hidden or secret wisdom, I am referring to that which Wisdom Uncreated works secretly in the inmost depths of the soul. This science is often called by Saint Dionysius 'spiritual wisdom', either because it teaches the spirit to unite itself with its God or because this wisdom comes down from the Father of lights, as a perfect gift, even as Saint James says in the first chapter of his Epistle. In another place the same Saint Dionysius says that this wisdom is above reason and sense, since it transcends all sense and reason, wherefore he says again: 'This wisdom which we said was unconnected with sense we also declare to be the beginning of all prudence and of all discretion.' Similarly the second chapter of the book of Wisdom purts these words into the mouth of any righteous soul: 'I had desires, and understanding was given to me, and, because I asked for it, the goodness of God gave me the spirit of wisdom.' - which is as much as to say spiritual wisdom or wisdom of the spirit. God gave me wisdom, which is a gift of the Holy Spirit, and this taught me to despise all the honours and riches of the world and to esteem its gold and silver as sand and mud, and to understand that all precious stones are nothing, for mystical theology, which this living wisdom teaches in the secret place of the soul, causes all that brings it not near to God to be counted as naught.
Now since the transitory riches and illusory pleasures and miserable delights which this world can give are all outward things, are all gilded trimmings, external array, and a hindrance to the most quiet silence that belongs to perfection, it is necessary that the soul which receives this wisdom should completely despise all that brings it not near to God. And therefore this passage tells us to what extent all gold and other things should be esteemed, for the soul that once tastes interior wisdom learns to reject all satisfaction that comes from without, in such a way that - as the same passage says - the soul that desires and embraces this gentle wisdom will forfeit, if it be necessary, health and grace and strength of body, in order that it may be able to wait upon God. And since the charity which is received by the soul together with this blessed wisdom teaches it to know its God better than the understanding can do and in a way that transcends all reason, the grateful soul, in this passage, goes on to say : 'I am resolved to have this wisdom ever for a light, for I have learned that its charity cannot be extinguished', knowing that it is impossible to have it without also having blessings inconceivable.
So the same soul says: 'Together with this wisdom was given me every good thing: formerly I knew not that this wisdom was the mother of all blessings or guardian or reliquary of a great treasury of virtues', which the soul inwardly knows to have come with her; for, as has been said, this wisdom is a perfect gift and comes down from the Father of lights. Wherefore it must be observed that vigilant souls receive these Divine instructions from God in answer to numerously expressed desires; for proof of this we may recall the ninth chapter of the book of Daniel, where it is written that the angel said to him : 'The Lord sendeth me to teach thee because thou art a man of desires.' That is to say, 'Because thou art a man that perseverest in manly desires to know the manner of fulfilling the Divine will, for that reason am I sent to teach thee.' From this we should learn how necessary it is that the heart should be pure and ever abounding in lively desires for God, and how it should know that these desires can never have enough of teaching by God's great goodness.
Let it be understood, then, that the soul that is in grace says in this passage that it was given the spirit of wisdom because it desired it and with its desires asked for it. In this way, and only in this way, can the soul experience the savour of Divine fellowship, whereby it attains quiet and perfect and most simple contemplation, and entirely despises all that is not God. And may He ever be our protection.

CHAPTER 15 - Shows with what Facility Souls that have fed freely upon Love can rise upward to God, and describes the Dignity of Mystical Theology
Saint Dionysius, writing to Timothy, says to him, by way of warning : 'Let thy soarings aloft transcend every impediment, so that thou mayest be raised up in purity even to the ray of Divine things, which transcends all substance.' This is as if he were to say : 'It is necessary that thy contemplation be peaceful and hidden and quiet in loving that Good, Who, being infinitely good, is infinitely to be loved.' With respect to the 'soarings aloft', Saint Dionysius means that the operation the loving will should transcend every other operation. The operation of the will when it loves in the most quiet peacefulness should be such that not only does it annihilate the work of the understanding and natural reason in that which they cannot of themselves obtain, but it even transcends and acquires the mastery over all that is not God, so that, as the same Saint says, it may soar aloft purely and without hindrance, leaving behind all that can be seized and meditated upon - which, as with Him, there is nothing that has being. This is his meaning when he says that we must rise up 'without knowledge' - that is, not knowing how to understand anything communicable even of things which we contemplate, having no awareness of aught save love. And the less anything that has relation to the intellect intervenes in the operation of loving, the more freely will the enamoured will unite itself with its most loving Love.
And in order that in this state of purity the soul may freely and often attain quiet in contemplation, transcending all that can be understood, it is needful for it to have spent a period of time and labour, in rejecting, restraining and breaking down any thoughts and operations of the understanding whatsoever. This labour, and this continuous resistance, and this operation of the soul in forsaking the understanding is that which Saint Dionysius called 'great contrition'. It should be noted that Henry de Balma, a most experienced writer - and those who to-day put any effort into their exercises and have for some years enjoyed the help of God know that he speaks the truth - says that such souls come - or, rather, are led by the Divine will - to know and understand by experience that, just as, in order to breathe, there is no need of a great store of thoughts, or reasoned principles, or any operation of the understanding, neither does exhalation necessitate an act of the will, nor has inhalation to be pondered over, just so long the long-practised soul is led by Divine goodness to a state wherein it has no need of preparation ere (before) it rises to its quiet ; for its very custom of so doing gives it such freedom that it finds sufficient preparation in the custom which it has developed from frequency of practice. And just as in this earthly life it is natural to breathe without thought or premeditation, just so it must be realized that in the spiritual life a soul that is vigilant concerning its attainment to perfection may uplift its spirit as often as it will. And when the soarings aloft of such a soul are founded on the deepest peace and quiet this is more possible still. Wherefore says Henry Herp : 'It is thus as natural to the well-schooled soul that is in quiet to draw near to its God as it is for the fire to send its flame upward.
In order that this may be understood without difficulty, I will speak of an old friar whom I know, not a lay brother like myself, who, after spending a great many years in this practice of aspiration, hsa been led by Divine Goodness into such a state that he has to make great efforts and study carefully how to recollect himself less. For his constitution is too weak to bear this continual quiet, and in particular he has a great love for celebrating and desires not to neglect the pulpit, since he is a notable preacher and outstanding in mystical theology - a science which our God teaches secretly to souls that are enkindled in His love. So sublime is the science that, though this or that servant of His can speak of it, as it were stammeringly, only His boundless Majesty can cause it to be understood inwardly, make it to be felt within the soul and implant it in the heart, to do this being reserved by Him for Himself alone. But it should be observed that, by the great goodness of God, even the poorest and weakest creature can learn it, whether man or woman, if such a one desires to be His diciple. May He ever be our protection.

CHAPTER 16 - That it is the Love most frequently practised which most purifies the Soul and brings it to Perfection
In the foregoing observations I do not mean to imply that it is possible, in this mortal life, even for the most perfect, never to experience periods of unquiet, for it is not usual, on earth, to find complete continuity. I am aware, however, that there are many souls, some of whom I know, who feed freely upon love, and who, at times when they cannot attain to quiet on account of such accidents as beset our daily life, are not altogether without some degree of it. I know certain souls whom all the storms of the world and wiles of the devil cannot dislodge from peaceful silence at the times when through Divine goodness they are immersed in it. But it should be said that among these souls there are some whom I could name here who have been practising contemplation for more than thirty years and a few for more than forty - some for less, others for more - and God, in His goodness, has brought them so frequently to perform such acts - I mean, to be so frequently employed in contemplation - that they have become habituated to raising the spirit by the road of pure affection, and thus, whensoever the desire, and wheresoever they are, whether reading or writing, they can soar upwards freely in this Divine union.
That this is the case with some of these souls I know with such complete certainty that I should not, and cannot, doubt it, nor will I dare to do so. I have said this for two reasons : first, because those of us who are newcomers to this practice, and desire perfection but have it not, must know that perfection lies in perseverance, by means of which there is no doubt that we shall attain the same blessings that others have attained who, by the great goodness of God, have persevered. And we shall be confirmed in our confidence that this is so when we know that the more those who are gradually climbing, or progressing, in this stage of quiet contemplation enjoy that experience, the more they sense and glimpse and become aware of the real possibility of attaining what these others have attained. Thus just as corporeal, earth-born things and all things that savour of sensual inclination are a serious impediment to the affective nature, because they hinder its free flight, just so, and much more, do the frequency of flights, and its preservation of itself in grace, and its continual desires, and its many approaches to God, by the cleansing and purging and purifying of its loving intentions, bring it to the perfection which has been attained by those whom God has led by this same road when they have first begun following the fragrance of the oilments of His favour and love.
It should very carefully be noticed that, just as in this mode of operation a man cannot be raised up by industry or custom without Divine condescension, so it is impossible that Divine favour will be withheld from him who perseveres ; for, even as our understanding is able to understand that which it attains, even so is our will able to love that which it finds worthy thereof. And since there is naught good but God, He alone must be loved ; and, in loving Him, the soul is employing itself in the most natural way. And it is certain that the more purely and the more frequently the soul employs itself in loving, the more it is burned up in the flames of love, wherein is consumed all that impedes it from loving. And because the deeper is the soul's love, and the more frequently it employs itself in loving, the more it becomes purified, it must be understood that, the more the soul becomes purified, the more nearly perfect becomes its knowledge of the lovableness of theat love which enkindles it in the love of itself. From this it may be deduced by a process of simple reasoning that it is the prayer which is the quietest and the most frequently practised that most purifies the soul ; and the most thorough purification and the deepest purity leads to the most complete knowledge of our infinite Love, which Love is such that all who know It must needs most love It, and he who most loves It will rise to the highest perfection.
So as gradually, like stammering children, we begin to know and to love and to experience the benefits of loving, we shall most surely learn that those who love much more than we and have spent many years busying themselves in love have attained, and possess, the pre-eminence referred to in rising aloft in quiet, not only whensoever it pleases them so to rise, but even without premeditation, impelled by the love that God sets within all the souls that He has created. And may He be ever our protection.

CHAPTER 17 - That it is the Soul which has the Most Hope and perseveres the Most in Loving that is nurtured in the Most Favourable Kind of Love
In the fortieth chapter of the book of the prophet Isaiah we read : 'They that hope in God renew their strength, and receive wings of eagles and fly without growing weary.' To make this clearer we may paraphrase as follows : Those souls who in quiet fellowship grow in knowledge of the great goodness of God must needs grow likewise in love, and will then grow in favour; and the more of this favour they have, the more do they grow in confidence and hope of Him through knowledge of Whom they know they are raised aloft. Now Now this confidence, as it grows in the soul, begins to renew it, and this renewal carries it to new effort and to new virtue; and this is the strength wherein the passage says that they who are the closest friends of God are renewed. It says likewise that they take wings of eagles, this word 'eagle' denoting the quick eagerness of their lives and of their flight, a figure well applicable to the sudden uplifting of the spirit to its God. And the more suddenly and quietly our spirits soar upward, the more freely do they fly, and, not only are they unwearied by their flight, but the higher and the more frequently they fly, the more do they renew their strength and the more numerous are the flights which they make. It should be added here that the thirty-second chapter of the book of Deuteronomy makes reference to our most mighty Love - namely, our gracious God. After having described the exceeding great benefits which He bestows on the souls that love Him, the passage continues as follows : 'He is like an eagle which, to entice its young to fly, hovers around over them, spread its wings, lifts them up, sustains them and carries them on its shoulders.'
Oh, most precious love, dwelling in our inmost parts, which love Thee, my God, with the love that Thou dost set within them! Who is he that sees not the eagerness of the flight wherewith Thou didst descend to feed Thy poor creatures with love as Thy clemency impelled Thee? Who has not seen Thy wings stretched over Thy children in love, in the form of a cross, whereon Thou sufferedst for them? And what heart feels not the enticement wherewith Thou drawest upward to Thyself the flight of those of us whose flight is weak, and who, were we not upheld by Thy own wings, could not rise so high as to reach Thee? Who perceives not that this enticement to fly raises them up in ecstatic flight, most sudden and most quiet, whereof the eagle's flight is a gracious similitude?
It is certain that, if the eagle had not been a most appropriate figure for contemplative souls in peaceful quiet and the highest perfection, Ezekiel, in his first chapter, would not have said that, among the four beasts, the glorious evangelist Saint John had the likeness of an eagle. And if this similitude had not expressed the highest state of perfection in the most quiet, most rapidly soaring and most perfect contemplation, the author would not have gone on to say so explicitly that the most loving soul of the same glorious evangelist, represented by the face of the eagle, was not only raised higher than those of the other three beasts, which denote the other three evangelists, but was raised, in sublime contemplation, even above itself. 'The face of the eagle,' says the passage, 'was the highest of the four, and was the first of the four.' By this he means that Saint John had risen to the highest perfection to which nature can attain by reason and understanding and all human skill. So that by the eagle's opening its wings in order to encourage the flight of its young is meant naugtht else than the action of our most loving God in extending or bestowing grace and touches of love upon favoured souls, figured in the eagle's young. And what else is meant by our being supported, raised up and borne away on the wings of the eagle save that the grace and the virtues which Divine condescension increases in such souls raise them up and bestow quiet upon them as on a sudden they contemplate the Divine Majesty? And from this we are to gather that in this science of mystical theology, or delectable wisdom, whereby the enamoured soul attains to quiet in its God, there is no place either for reason, or for understanding, or for any other human skill, but that all these must needs be forsaken for this most quiet mode of pure contemplation whensoever, by the great goodness of God, the soul is raised up by way of aspiration and sudden affection, on the wings of love.
Here it may be observed that the commentary on the passage in the book of Deuteronomy reads as follows : 'The eagle turns the eyes of its young towards the sun's rays, and the eaglet which it considers most like to itself, most truly and properly its own, and on which it lavishes the greatest care is that one which most purely, readily and perseveringly, and without blinking its eyes, rests its gaze upon the brightness of the sun.' From this we may understand that, if by the eagle's young are meant contemplative souls and Christ Jesus is the eagle that entices them, sets them before the rays of the living sun so that they may gaze upon the most dazzling brightness of infinite substance, for, without being enlightened by such brightness, it is impossible in any human way to gaze steadily at the sun with a unitive and most quiet gaze. And what else is meant by the steady gaze directed towards the sun by the eagle's young but the quiet, peaceful and motionless contemplation by the soul of the inaccessible Divinity? And what is meant by not moving the eyes, and neither blinking nor growing weary, save keeping the gaze of the eager will and of affectioned love withdrawn from all that is not God - not looking even at the choir of angels? The eagle, then, considers the eaglet that he sees looking as keenly and steadily towards the sun as most truly his own and lavishes on him the greatest care. And even so do these souls receive most sustenance from Christ when they look most at the sun and keep their gaze fixed on the love of their God through quiet contemplation.
It is such souls as these, who feed most on quiet contemplation, who are most eager and ready to attain quiet again and again wheresoever and whensoever they may be when they lack such quiet. Any one of these souls is that portion of the inheritance of the Lord which in that passage of Deuteronomy already quoted is described as funiculus hereditatis ejus (the lot of His inheritance). In the hundred and twenty-sixth Psalm our Mother the Church is described as the inheritance of the Lord and the passage quoted (from Deuteronomy) says of any righteous soul that it is a funiculus, which means a partaker, of the inheritance of the Lord. And, to show us how great is the love of this our Lord and in what esteem He holds His inheritance, this author tells us that He keeps it like the pupil or the apple of His eye - that is, that He esteems it in the highest possible degree.
In must be understood, then, that He keeps the soul by sustaining it in grace and giving it such grace that it can rise, by Divine clemency, on the wings of love, to quiet contemplation, whensoever and wheresoever it desires. It can do this with the greater facility through being purer and readier and for longer practised in pure contemplation, to attain which, by our own perseverance, it is necessary, as has been said, to deny our understanding, and pay no heed to the senses, and base nothing on natural reason, and bases itself wholly upon Divine condescension, which proceeds from God's goodness. May He ever be our protection.

CHAPTER 18 - That the Growth of Intellectual Comprehension is figured in the Brightness of Dawn
The soul which, in the words that have been quoted from the prophet Isaiah, has renewed its strength, and passed from a great blessing to a yet greater, and taken the wings of an eagle, and flown without growing weary, will say with the Psalmist, when this its ecstatic flight fails it, 'If I should take my wings in the morning, I should fly until I passed the extremes of the sea of this tempestous life, or of this tedious death.' Concerning this, Richard (of Saint Victor), in his book De Arca mystica, says : 'The extremes, or the extreme, of the sea here referred to are the end of this mortality, or the termination of the life of these bodies, which the contemplative soul desires as Saint Paul desired it when he said, in the first chapter of this epistle to the Philipians : 'I have a desire to end this life, or to leave this body, or to set my soul free to be with Jesus Christ in perfect contemplation.' Understanding this extremity, or extreme, to mean the most delicate mode of quiet  contemplation, the author says : 'If I take wings in the morning, ...'
By flights of these souls, as we know, are meant the desires and the fire of love, and the flights are made in the early morning, when souls that are greatly skilled in quiet contemplation are so trained by God that, on their desiring to soar by way of aspiration, they are raised in a moment on the wings of love and are united with their God, and in a moment pass beyond all the extremes of imagination and understanding and natural reason. And those souls know that it is Divine condescension, through the goodness of God, which raises them up for this ecstatic flight. And thus any one of these souls says : 'If I take these my wings in the morning, or at down, or in the diluculum, I shall fly to the extreme part of the sea.'
Concerning the aurora, or diluculum, the lofty and quiet contemplative Herp, in the Golden Directory, writes, though not in relation to this passage, as follows. The diluculum, he says, is the beginning of the peep of dawn, and it is of three different kinds, all of which are germane to skilled contemplation. At the very beginning of the dawn the light comes, brightly yet serenely, from the east, where the sun rises ; as the morning goes on, it becomes brighter ; but, when the sun shines forth fully, the light grows so strong that the first and second period would seem to have been nothing, and both are transformed into the perfection of day. Just so is it in skilled contemplation. The soul begins to receive light, whereby it experiences satisfaction in the clear understanding of things that it had not previously grasped ; but, as it grows in tranquillity, it arrives at such comprehension as it cannot attain alone. And since the works of our Most High God, from Whom proceed all these changes, are perfect, He grants the soul a greater increase of grace, leads it from a blessing that is great to another that is greater, and sets it in the pure quiet of perfect contemplation.
The peace and quiet of this pure contemplation is the true extreme of this stormy sea, beyond which the Psalmist desired to pass. The changes in the light of the dawn which have been described - namely, from brightness to greater brightness and perfect splendour - correspond to those other changes, produced by our Most High God, Who increases grace in quiet and melliflous souls as they practise contemplation. This is the strength which, in Isaiah's words, will be renewed like that of eagles by those who trust in God and seek quiet in Him alone and feed solely on His love, for which cause they despise and desire not anything which leads them not to God. May He ever be our protection.

CHAPTER 19 - That the Sleep of the Soul's Faculties awakens the Spirit to the Flight of Living Love
In the second chapter of the book of the Canticles Christ Jesus our Love, the Spouse of the Church, says these mellifluous words, namely : 'My dove is one only, etc.' Elsewhere He terms her 'my dove' and calls upon her to open to Him. As we said in the seventeenth chapter, the Church is the inheritance of Jesus Christ, and every righteous soul is part of this inheritance, and our God calls this His Church 'dove' ; so it now remains to be said that, as the soul knows Holy Church - whereof it is a part - it desires to receive the wings of this wondrous dove, which are the living desires awakened by its perfect doctrine, so that on these wings it may rise in loving flight to its most loving God, in Whom is its true consolation. For this reason the Psalmist quoted says, in the person of the enamoured soul, 'Who will give me the wings of a dove?' That is to say : 'Who will be able to set in me the desires and the affection of Holy Church so that I may seek my God in perfect contemplation?' And because, while it continues in this mortal flesh, the soul cannot have true rest without much interruption, the Psalmist, in the sixty-seventh Psalm, gives a counsel to all righteous souls, under the figure of Holy Mother Church, the inheritance of our God. The Bride of Jesus Christ, our dove without gall, desiring that those who are her children, and also God's, should have her wings, speaks to them thus : 'If ye should sleep among the midst of two boundaries, or places, or inheritances - or, as the commentary puts it, in the authority of two Testaments - ye shall be as a dove that has wings of silver, or, if the dove is of silver, so shall its wings be, and the back of this dove shall be like gold of a pale hue.' She says, therefore : 'If ye should sleep, etc.'
Sleep, as regards temporal things, signifies having little concern for them. From the lack of concern, then, which the righteous soul has for all that is not God, proceeds the spiritual sleep wherein the faculties of the soul slumber, and are infused and transformed in the love of their God in purity of substance, in such a way that the soul, in this manner of sleeping in its interior quiet, receives no operation from any of its faculties nor in its comprehension touches aught created, but all is spiritual. This restful slumber, this sleep of the faculties, this repose of the soul, this flight of the spirit in quiet contemplation, this way of aspiration is the sleep to which the Prophet invites ; and, in order that souls may be able to fly in this aspiration, he desires them to have wings. And he says they are to be the wings of a dove, because the dove is a loving bird, and, as it represents the Church, the reference is to the same love in the Most Holy Spirit. So the author says : 'If ye should sleep, etc.' From this we see that David had enjoyed this peaceful slumber, this blessed sleep which unites the soul to God, since in the fourth Psalm he said as follows : 'In the tranquil peace of the secret hiding place, where God is found within the inmost part of the soul, I will sleep and take my rest in the peace of the Lord.'
The passage continues : 'Between two boundaries or between two allotments.' Here it is to be noted that the soul which is skilled in quiet contemplation sleeps as to temporal things, and neglects them so that she may come nearer to God; for love of Him, however, she cannot neglect the things to which she is bound by charity and obedience, or the necessity of satisfying the bare minimum of her genuine needs.
Her neglect of these transient things withdraws her, so far as her affections are concerned, from all that is transitory, and her burning desires for everlasting blessings raise her to the level of the world that will endure forever. And this neglect of the present and desire for the future make her, as it were, mortified, as though she were asleep and suspended between two allotments - that is to say, this present death and the life that is to come. Sleep, then, here means this suspension and tacit silence. And the 'two boundaries' are this transitory world and the world that is everlasting.
The passage continues : 'Wings of a dove of silver.' By silver, in Holy Scripture,  is meant sacred words, the doctrine of God whereby our souls are sustained ; as where the prophet David says, in the eleventh Psalm, 'The words of the Lord are of fine silver.' So that by the dove is meant the Church; and every enamoured soul is a dove, its wings desires and lively affection for its God.
Now, when any righteous soul embraces the Divine words, and the doctrine of Christ, and from them derives impulse or incitement to fly with desires of love, and by means fo hidden wisdom, which is mystical theology, it attains, by Divine condescension, to union with its God; and such a soul will be a dove, in the sense that it is enamoured and that it flies directly and impetuously on wings of desire, which bear it upwards by means of pure love. And this dove, will be a silver dove, since it is ever in the embrace of the Divine will and of the doctrine of Christ, as has been said.
The passage continues : 'The back of this dove is of the colour of gold that is not refined, but is of a pale hue.' This is a colour like gold that has lost its lustre which degenerates into a kind of tarnished red. There is a reference to such colour in the fourteenth chapter of Leviticus, where Moses is told that he must be informed concerning things that are contaminated with leprosy, in these words : 'When thou seest on the walls any discoloured stains, yellow and tarnished as though by putrefaction, etc.' Here the commentary says that these dull stains are a sign of corruption, so that it is to be understood that the dull colour is a tarnished yellow - almost green, indeed - which denotes putrefaction, as is wont to occur in bodies, or members, that are about to decay. If the soul, then, is a dove, this body is its back and all that is created for it upon the earth.
No the contemplative takes no more care of his body than he is obliqed to do, and this he does for love of God, because He loves it, and he desires to please Him. And he turns his back, too, upon this world, with its transitory concerns and its ephemeral pleasures, and pays little heed to it, save when compelled to do so by pure necessity, and charity to his neighbour, and obedience to his superior: in other respects, if he looks at the world at all, it is to scorn it, but he endures it patiently until he shall be succoured by God. So that the world and the body are, as it were, the back of the soul that has a living love for God and soars to quiet contemplation and fellowship with Him on the wings of love. Now it is certain that all the works of the righteous are converted for them into good by Him Who is perfect goodness. And all the good works performed by such a soul, both in sustaining its body and in other respects, are performed wholly for the love of God, for Whom it endures the world and this life with patience, occupying itself wholly in the love of its neighbours for the love of its God.
It follows that all the works performed by such a soul, and all that it says, and its whole way of life - all this is of the colour of gold and is of far greater worth than gold. But, since the affliction of this mortal life contaminates and tarnishes and impedes the perfection of the colour of this gold and detracts from its resplendence - for all our works do not attain perfection but continually go awry - for that reason it is said that the colour of this gold is dull and devoid of resplendence. We may therefore take it that all the good works of devout souls, which works are exterior, must be put behind the back of the silver dove, which is the soul that follows the teaching of Christ and occupies itself in love. And the Psalmist says that this colour, though dull, is nevertheless of gold, for which reason, even though the colour be lustreless or tarnished, it is nevertheless of great price, and has hidden within it a concealed and veiled resplendence. For, so far as its own repute is concerned, the righteous soul pays little heed to all the exterior works that it performs : they are of a dull hue and fall far below the perfection of its intention, for it continually desires to perform more and better works than it is able. So that the soul itself reputes these works as things dull in hue, yet because of the fervent charity which inspires them they are more precious than gold ; and it is charity, which impels the soul to perform the for its neighbours, for the love of God alone, that makes them precious.
This may be the sense or interpretation which can be given to this passage, though we must humbly respect the commentaries which have been written upon it by holy Doctors. And may God protect all.

CHAPTER 20 - In what Manner the Faculties must work when Quiet fails, and wherein I can know how Fervent is my Love It has already been observed that in this way of quiet contemplation, in this mystical theology, wherein the soul's entire disposition rises lovingly and of a sudden to God, it behoves that the work of the understanding should cease ; but it must be understood that, in the interpretation of certain authors, there are often places where both teachers and students need to make use of discursive reasoning, which is a direct impediment to quiet. In the twelfth chapter it was said that the faculties of the soul have at times to leave it, just as bees leave the hive, only to return and withdraw into it again, laden with (their treasure from) the flowers. This the soul must do when it is unprepared to soar in flight, for the least practised of us, being men, are not always ready to raise the affective nature to perfect quiet. But, in souls that are highly practised in quiet contemplation, the faculties are so clear after they have been exercised in quiet that, when they need to employ them again, they find them as it were schooled and ready for the work that they have to do.
So it may be said that a soul without scholastic learning but versed in mystical theology can more readily understand certain difficulties in Holy Scripture, and more profitably expound them, than a scholastic theologian, however notable he be, if he lack spiritual wisdom : if anyone should have both the one and the other, his expositions will be of very great value. Now, when the contemplative soul does not at once enter into his hidden quiet, he must work with the faculties, which will sally forth like bees that play around the flowers - that is, he must reason out the sense of the author whom his soul desires to understand; and, when the understanding has found the truth, it immediately returns to its hive - in order, that is, to recollect itself in the substance of the soul. In this its recollection reaches a peaceful understanding of that which the mind has seized, and, when the understanding comprehends it, the will takes it, and sets it and seals it, as it were, in a honeycomb, and keeps it in the memory. And when that quiet ceases wherewith the soul has been working within its own substance, like a bee within its hive, then the understanding returns and dismantles the honeycomb which previously it has been guarding. That is to say, it studies its author piecemeal, and thus from the honeycomb of memory, wherein it guarded the truth which it had learned to understand, it draws wax - that is, it clarifies and explains that which it understands ; and since the will works by loving. it also draws forth honey - that is, it finds sweetness in that which it understands.
Hence, if a writer takes pleasure in that which he has written, his explanation will give greater pleasure to the reader, provided that both writer and reader are at one in purity of conscience and also in despising all temporal things which are not of obligation - for to prize such things as these makes the will grow cold and dulls the understanding. Note that, if the writer has sucked honey out of the rock and oil out of the hardest flint - as it is written in the thirty-second chapter of the book of Deuteronomy - that is, has separated the marrow of love from the rind of the letter and extracted its inward sweetness so that it may enjoy the love thus extracted - then, amid the trials caused by any adversity and the bitterness of every kind of strife, he will find himself as well prepared for them, and as ready (to bear them), and as content as though he were in the very midst of prosperity, and, even at times when he has no devotion, as fervent as though he abounded in it. This, in the words of the passage, is to such oil from flint, which is the hardest of substances. Now if a writer has been in such a state, and you who read are in a like state, you will understand the intent with which he has written. And if you are in such a state, and yet take no pleasure in that which you read, you may know that the writer has made greater use of a lively understanding than of lively affection. And thus any practised contemplative has little difficulty in recognizing the spiritual state of a writer whose work he is reading.
Here it may be observed that, when two contemplatives are in communication with each other, it oftentimes comes to pass that, as the one begins to speak, the other has understood him before he explains himself.
We may conclude, then, by saying that, as the quiet contemplative needs to sally forth, with discretion and understanding, from the quiet which he is wont to enjoy, but for a time cannot, it is well that he should sometimes have resort to Holy Scripture, which is a table more abundantly set out with meats than frequented by diners, and that he should tarry there and then rise and enjoy what has been given him at that table. That is to say, as well as attaining to a discursive understanding of Holy Scripture - which is figured in the meats of this table - he must soar upward, by way of affective nature, to his quiet, to enjoy that which he has understood, which, having enjoyed it, he will be able to explain. It must be noted that there is no contradiction between this discursive understanding and operation of memory and the quiet drawing of profit by the way of aspiration, since one who finds himself unable to soar upward with affective impetuosity will often, after exercising the understanding, do so with ease. If at such times he were not to sally forth with the understanding, he would often tarry long before achieving recollection and upward flight.
We must see to it, however, that from that which we comprehend with the understanding we draw quiet, and we must also realize that we never pass from quiet to the understanding and see to it that from both these we awaken love, without which no contemplation is of much worth. And let the soul, for its satisfaction, clearly understand (a truth) which may be accepted and held as very certain : when from your contemplation and the operation of you faculties, as has already been noted, you draw a solicitous fervour, such as, with no less eagerness than before, would seek a thousand ways of pleasing God; when you feel undevout and devoid of spiritual consolation; or when you feel that you are making progress in devotion; or when you are either esteemed or very much despised; the less ready you feel in these ways, the readier you must be in love. And may God protect all. Amen.

CHAPTER 21 - Of the Conformity which Perfect Contemplation has with the Will of God in any Adversity and of the Divers Kinds of Merit which God permits to his Servants It is well to recall that this third book deals with perfection and presupposes practice in the first two parts, upon which this third part is founded. For this reason it must be noted that, on the way to perfection, quiet contemplatives must take the greatest care to renounce their desires and follow the will of our God and Lord. They must also subdue any desire for Divine inspirations, graces and influences, and for any kind of consolation, desiring God alone and willing that which He wills in all things. Note carefully that Henry Herp, a most quiet contemplative, writes in his Golden Directory that without this negation of the will (in favour) of the will of God it is impossible to attain complete perfection. Even though you suffer the pains of martyrs and perform the good works of al penitents, you will not be a perfect worker of these things until you know that the love for God which moves you to do them all is naked of all self-interest. So that, if He wills that you should have glory, that is your will likewise, and if He wills to deprive you of it eternally, you are glad to give it up in order to be in conformity with Him, provided that He holds you ever bound to His will. Note that, if it were possible for any of the damned to be in such conformity with His will that they were glad to suffer because He willed that they should do so, such conformity would free them from suffering. It will therefore be a great joy to you to suffer any trial that may come to you through God's will.
You must understand, then, that the perfect will receive with equanimity aridity in devotion or spiritual consolation, honour or scorn, great joy or severe affliction, health or sickness, life for a hundred years or life for a day. This is perfect love of God naked of all self-interest. Note that, if you have faith in the complete perfection judgements of God, you will know that it is of His goodness alone, and in order to increase the blessings of souls that love Him, that He allows them to suffer such great tribulations, and be scorned by the world, and be persecuted, through the machinations of the devil, in such a way that only they who suffer them know them and only He will and can succour them, as He is wont to do. Such things as these, it must be observed, happen in this way to persons who are perfect in righteousness, and they, being bent upon conformity with the will of God, receive and suffer them, and have no wish to lose them until He whose will it is that they shall have them shall be pleased to take them away. As the glorious Saint Paul says in the tenth chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians : 'The most faithful Lord, our God, does not suffer us to be tempted above that which we are able to bear' ; and He suffers us to be tried at a time when we can recognize from Whose hand the trial comes to us, and why He gives it to us, and what profit it will bring.
Concerning this, I heard a contemplative who was suffering a very great affliction say that he often thought to himself that if it had come upon him eight or ten years earlier, he would have been in danger of despairing. He also said that he never desired that it should be taken from him, or asked this of God in prayer; all he asked was to be sure that he would not offend God through it, for the thing was of so subtle a kind that, being a cautious soul, who would rather die a thousand times that offend God in aught, he was afraid. He told me that, if God were to take that affliction from him, he would count it a great favour and would be extremely glad ; but that, because he had such full confidence in God's great goodness, he believed that if he for his part exercised loving vigilance, our faithful Lord would not allow one who desired to serve Him to offend Him ; and thus he spent the years of his torment in complete content. From this we must conclude that Our Loard allows these bouts of affliction to come upon those who are so united and conformed with His will that they accept trials with a glad thanksgiving as consolations, for they know that every consolation comes from the Divine hand and every tribulation is permitted by the Divine will. And, as they see that everything flows from the fountain of love, they take it all in love, knowing that when He gives us consolations He is treating us like a father, and, when He chastises us, He is correcting us like sons : in everything He Who is perfect Goodness does for us that which is best.
And we may know from reliable and very ample experience that he who has a pure conscience and whom Our Lord permits to suffer more and greater trials is wont to receive fresh graces and increasingly clear knowledge on the road of contemplation, even at the present time, as an earnest of his reward to come. Since God, in His exceeding great goodness, desires to give to souls that love Him more and greater blessings than they are capable of receiving, He allows their capacity for such reception to be enlarged, so that He may give them more. Concerning this, Herp says that there never has been nor is, nor will be in this world any painter who has the vision, or can or would order line, compass and measure wherewith to perfect his work to the same degree as our most loving Lord, for He has seen from eternity all the trials and sufferings, and likewise all the merits through which He is pleased, of His great goodness, to lay up treasures of the greatest glory, for the souls that love Him. And since it is he who strives most lawfully that shall be the most perfectly crowned, as Saint Paul tells us in the second chapter of the second epistle to Timothy, the soul must needs have to meet active components ; wherefore wour most faithful Lord and loving Rewarder permits these same adversaries to be active in preparing a thousand kindsl of trial, such as assailed the most perfect Job and returned in force to strike the most glorious Saint Paul, and very many other great saints. Thes our most wise Lord ordained so that we who are weak should derive great strength from the example of that which they suffered. You see clearly what blessings there are in suffering for God's sake in close conformity with His Divine will. Know then that whoso suffers and has the closest conformity with that will is on the brink of receiving new favours from our great Giver of grace.
Note the words of Saint Gregory in the fifth chapter of the twentieth book of the Morals : 'Calves that are to be killed are always left in abundant pastures', which means that much pleasure, accompanied by mortal sin, will always be suspect ; wherefore he says : 'Calves that are to be left alive are subjected to the trials and servitude of the yoke.' Just so souls to whom our loving Lord wills to give an increase of blessings in the life to come are placed by Him under the yoke of great persecutions and even deprived of all spiritual consolations, and afflicted to the point of being despised by those who were wont to love them ; and to him whom He permits to be the most deeply embroiled in strife He shows the greatest favour, if he be perfect in grace.
'When Our Lord,' says Herp on this subject, 'permits a soul to be sorely afflicted, and that soul desires no temporal consolation, and our merciful Lord denies him the blessed unction that He is wont to give, such a soul has to suffer a endure hunger. And yet he is seated between two tables : that of mutable victuals, or false consolations, which he has no wish to approach, and that of Divine victuals, which he is not permitted to touch. Wherefore his sustenance consists in taking that which is given to him, though it be vinegar and gall, his will being wholly and completely resigned in that of his God.' If anyone should desire to know all about this Divine permission whereby the righteous suffer divers temptations and untoward affliction, let him read with great care in the twenty-fourth book of St. Gregory's Morals, from the beginning of the twelfth chapter down to the end of the fifteenth.
It must be known, in explanation of the sufferings of righteous men, that there is a concupiscible force in our soul, whereby it chooses that which seems to it good ; and there is likewise an irascible force, wherewith, in righteous wrath, it thrusts away from itself that which it desires not : it is of this irascible force and of its operation that the fourth Psalm says : 'Take wrath, and sin not.' You must now understand that, even if a man should become aware of things that beseem him not, he can be aware of them and yet not be consenting to them, by making use of this irascible force, whereby he thrusts away that which he desires not. Thus with his concupiscible force he desires rest and quiet and with his irascible force he thrusts from him and drives away that which displeases God. With his higher comprehension he can attain to God through love, even while his sensual nature is endeavouring to idolatrize and to offend God, in the enjoyment of unseemly living.
So that we may understand the fundamental principle of this with the greater facility (ability), let us call to mind a very apt figure from Holy Scripture. In the thirty-second chapter of Exodus, it is written that, when Moses came down from the mount, after being told by God that He would destroy His people whom he had brought out of Egypt, because of the idolatory which they had committed, he besought (pleaded) God to forgive the people and his prayer was granted. But, when he reached the place where the people were, he became angry that he put to the sword those for whom he had prayed in the presence of God, so that in that very day there perished by his hand and by the hands of his followers well-nigh (nearly) three and twenty thousand of those for whom he had prayed. So he prayed for the unworthy people with the concupiscible force of his soul, and with the greatest fervour, because it touched the honour of God, as the passage tells us. And with the irascible force of his soul he worked vengeance upon them, since their abominable wickedness could not be hidden. From this we learn how the concupiscible force and the irascible force in our souls can work together at one and the same time ; for all this is said in order to show us how the righteous soul of any one of God's servants can be at one and the same time suffer any kind of tribulation, or unseemly impulse, or any other temptation, and can feel or suffer these, either on one occasion or many times, without so desiring ; and at the very time when this failure to desire is produced by the operation of the irascible force, the concupiscible force may work in the love of God, and impel the desires so that the affective nature may soar by way of aspiration. You see, then, that the natural passions and the other temptations which our God allows are always profitable to us if we know how to treat them.
We must also know that, at the very time when we are making progress in quiet contemplation, without any loss of quiet, the overwrought body is sometimes overcome by weakness. As this will not be readily understood by the inexperienced, we shall grasp it better if we take another illustration from the same chapter of Exodus. We read that Moses was on the summit of the mount, receiving from our God and Lord the most ineffable favours in perfect contemplation, and yet that, while he was contemplating Him, His people were committing idolatory. Do you grasp the meaning of this? Moses here represents any soul that has fed freely upon contemplation, and his people, who where committing idolatory, stand for our sensual nature, the immoderateness of the flesh and of its inclinations, its lack of shame, its utter wretchedness, and the poor returns of our harvesting. The soul, in the power of its free will, goes straight to God, while the flesh hastens to its putrefaction ; wherefore Isaiah, in his fortieth chapter, says : 'All flesh is grass'. To this we may now add : All flesh is filth. Grass, because it soon withers and dries up. Filth, because even when it falls not, it well-neigh (nearly) always inclines to its miserable putrefaction.
Concerning this, Richard (of Saint Victor), in the seventeenth chapter of his De Arca mystica, says that in these our bodies there is a part which the power of the soul suffices not to temper, whereas all the rest of a man, both within and without, is dominated by reason. All who live in the death which is this life of ours can understand this. We may conclude, therefore, that to suffer temptations, even though they be grave or concern things that are very unseemly, in no wise lessens the hope which servants of God have of the heavenly country. And may Christ Jesus, our Love, preserve this hope in the souls which He purchased of His great goodness.

CHAPTER 22 - Of the Manner wherein the Faculties are to be recollected and the Soul is to be uplifted to God On divers occasions it has been said that in this most quiet manner of pure contemplation the affective nature is raised up, or that the spirit aspires, or that the desires fly and rise up to God. Since each of these phrases seems to imply movement, whereby the soul will go forth from itself to seek its God, this may be expressed as follows. In is very certain that our God is within your soul and that to seek Him it behoves you to enter within yourself ; and when by special knowledge you have drawn near to your God, while still within yourself, you are higher than the heavens, both by the dignity which you gain from being in His presence adn also because, wheresoever you are recollected in His presence or with Him, all height and all sublimity is not so high as He. So, in telling you to raise up you affective nature, I'm telling you to raise it above all that is not God. And the same holds good if you are told that your desires must rise aloft, or that your spirit must aspire, or that you must embark upon the study of mystical theology. You must understand that these are all calls to the inward part of our souls to enjoy God, Who, in very deed, is within them. So to raise up the affective nature is to uplift the inclination of the soul above all that is not God and to rise above it and to be recollected within oneself.
It must be noted, therefore, that in this recollection or gathering-in of our own souls it behoves us to make a reflexion of all thoughts and of the entire operation of our faculties. So that in quiet contemplation, or in mystical theology, nothing must be admitted other than the soul's essential substance, so that it alone may occupy itself in pure, naked and unitive love, not in operable love. You will soon understand these different kinds of love if you try to use them - they will be explained farther on, in the twenty-sixth Chapter. Now you will have gathered that, for the aspiration or soaring of the desires or the lifting up of the affective nature, as also for all else that is needful for quiet contemplation, there must be a re-flexion of all dispersed thoughts, and wandering fancies, and operations of the understanding, as you have already learned, and all your faculties must be drawn closely closely in and gathered together within your own soul. For the clearer understanding of this you must know that by re-flexion is meant returning to a place which one had left and withdrawing into it, so that a man may cease to work in a dispersed manner as he was doing while he was without, and may return to his secret place within.
This we shall the better understand if we remember how in the fortieth chapter of the book of Ezekiel we read that the faces, or the ends, or the thickness of certain tables there spoken of were to be re-flected within. This 're-flexion', says Saint Gregory, must be understood as follows : 'When a man, in preaching or teaching, expresses in words matters of great solemnity, and afterwards withdraws himself and applies to himself the words he had uttered so that he may himself practice them, this is true re-flexion. So that, if you open your eyes here, you will see the preacher or teacher working outwardly with his faculties ; but, when he became recollected, he made a re-flexion of those same faculties within himself, so that they might work in their secret and hidden place what he had taught outwardly to others.' This is very relevant to our recollection or our aspiration ; and Saint Gregory gives us to understand that the works of the quiet contemplative must always be such that they work in those who see his aspiration exemplified in him, and much more so within his own secret place in silent re-flexion on the work of those good things which he taught to others, or which they learned from him or gathered from his example. So it should be observed here that the quiet contemplative must be careful to set a good example and not to forget that his last words and his works must ever be such that whoso takes notes of them shall be moved to praise God and to seek to imitate them. Let him do that and forget all else, and God will open his eyes and cause men to profit by the works that they see in him.
Now we who are material beings shall better understand this process of 're-flexion' if we take a material illustration. At every high tide, the waters of the sea swell and are enlarged, and are heaped up like mountains with hollows inside, and then the tide recedes and the sea withdraws into itself the water that is had put forth. That return of the water to the place whence it came is a case of re-flexion. Even so is it in our souls, when our faculties reach out toward created things ; and there is a re-flexion of those same powers when, by way of aspiration, they are withdrawn into the interior of the soul. Here in the stillness of silence, and in meekness and quiet, they work in pure contemplation ; all that is recognised is the operation of the will alone, which is occupied wholly in love. Do you want more examples of re-flexion than these? A hedgehog, a turtle, when they are thus withdrawn, they live their lives in complete silence and quiet. None can see within them, nor, when they are thus withdrawn, can men see much of them from without. When they are constrained to sally forth, they put out head and feet, but if they meet any obstacle or if anyone touches them they gather themselves together and withdraw within themselves once again. This inward withdrawal, this turning back into themselves, is re-flexion. Do you see how these little animals teach our souls that they should be withdrawn within themselves and recollected?
It is certain that the operation of the recollected soul is contemplation, wherein there is a re-flexion of the faculties, is one of perfect quiet ; during the which quiet or secret inward withdrawal it looks at naught that is without, neither does it know aught of that which is within save love ; nor does any other soul observe or understand the manner of its operation save one like to itself. Do you see how the re-flexion is a cause of quiet, like to the quiet of perfect contemplation? You must know that a snail comes out of its shell and goes where it has need, when seem like tiny horns, wherewith it guides itself whithersoever it goes ;  but if it be touched, however lightly, there is produced a re-flexion and the horns are withdrawn into the head, and can no more be seen ; while, if it meet any obstacle, there is a re-flexion of the whole body and it withdraws into itself and from without is not seen. This is a clear, though a humble, example of re-flexion in the material world, and is even more to our purpose. For the house of the snail is like to this body of ours ; its substance represents our soul ; the horns signify the two faculties of will and understanding ; and the re-flexion denotes our recollection. The similitude teaches us that every contemplatvie has to bear his house upon his back, denuded of all that he needs not, so that, free from every impediment, he can raise himself wholly, by means of aspiration, till he unites himself with God by the bond of pure love, the which may Divine Clemency grant to all souls whom He created in His likeness, and who, by means of this re-flexion, still, and recollected, and mortify their faculties, gathering them in, recollecting them and restraining their operations, without which there can be no quiet contemplation. And may Christ Jesus be our protection.

CHAPTER 23 - Of the Distinction in Love between knowing God through His Creatures and possessing them in Him
It has been made clear that every intellectual operation must be mortified in quiet contemplation, but until the last chapter no explanation had been given of how this is to be done. It will be seen that in this way of quiet the re-flexion of the faculties - that is, their return to the centre which they had left - means their cessation from their operation with respect to exterior things and the working of the soul. For the exposition hereof, it is well for us to know that our three faculties - namely, will, memory and understanding - depend upon our soul and are in it by indivisible contiguity, just as the sun's rays depend by indivisible contiguity upon the substance of the sun. Now, when these faculties of ours, like rays of the sun, are dispersed over the earth - that is, over all the things that we desire to remember or understand, seeking in them the truth which we may contemplate and turning in love to Him Who created so many things - then our soul works by means of our faculties, and with great merit, for this is the method used by those contemplatives who, without knowing the quiet of perfect contemplation, seek the Creator in the creatures. But it is one thing to see the Creator in the creatures and another to possess the creatures and have dominion over them in the love of the Creator of them all. The first thing belongs to scholastic contemplation ; the second, to mystical contemplation. The former may be practised by man, using his natural skill, with the help of God. Of the latter, God alone is Master, by Divine condescension, as was shown in the fifteenth chapter, on the dignity of mystical theology. Note now, then, that the more these faculties disperse themselves, the more diffused is the work of the soul, but when they are recollected, and there is a re-flexion in the soul, then we can say that its substance, or essence, is quite pure, and as perfect as a precious stone ready to be placed in a perfectly made reliquary - that is to say, in the love of its God.
Let us now proceed to show that by the examples given in the preceding chapter to explain the meaning of the in-flexion of the faculties in the substance of the soul we have been trying to indicate the method of their cessation from working. So that the understanding will cease from discursive reasoning, and the memory will be serene, and thus the imagination will refrain from fantastic thoughts and from all imagining, even though it be good. And as these things are a very great impediment in quiet contemplation, you should note that, unless you utterly and completely reject them all, and all that is corporeal, and all thoughts, you will not have quiet contemplation, nor perfect contemplation, nor mystical theology, nor will your work be one of aspiration. You must note that, though all these things are convenient and very profitable for progressives, provided they be done with discretion and at regular times, they will, none the less, be a great impediment on the road to perfection. And, as the whole of our first and second books have been devoted to beginners and progressivesssss in scholastic contemplation, so this additional book is being devoted to those who are very proficient and describes the height or summit of that mount which they have been climbing. So you have now understood that we must cast off in our quiet contemplation all things which are corporeal and can be apprehended with the understanding.
You have now to learn, for your greater satisfaction, that the lofty and quiet contemplative Richard (of Saint Victor), in the first chapter of the first book of De Arca mystica, writes as follows : 'Whensoever in this manner that we are discussing we hear or read this phrase 'ark of sanctification', we must always take it as referring to these our souls, which have been set in the grace of contemplation.' And it is necessary that we should know that the mercy-seat of this mystical ark will be quiet contemplation. Wherefore, in the first chapter of the third book De Arca mystica, he says : 'Of a truth, the more perfectly we forget all phantasies and corporeal things, the more profoundly and freely shall we be able to practise quiet in perfect contemplation.' He says likewise in the same chapter : 'our mercy-seat must be made of the purest gold.' Which is as if he had said : 'Our contemplation, if it is to be perfect, must be refined and cleansed of all that is unquiet ; it must be made of pure gold - that is to say, of refined and enkindled charity, converted into pure love.' And to the understanding he says : 'And thou, what hast thou to do with work that is not thine? Take that which is thine and go thy way. So may our God, by His infinite goodness, give us protection in all quiet.'

CHAPTER 24 - How Great are the Gifts that the Soul receives in True Contemplation from God, to Whom they must be attributed
The more discreetly measured and regular the manner wherein the contemplative orders his contemplation, the more perfect will it be. Those who are making progress, but have not reached the summit of quiet contemplation, often need to give a limited freedom of movement to the understanding, so that they may find in the creatures, by meditation, that which they have found in the Creator of all things by means of the strength of faith. Indeed, I think that at the present time there are few of the loftiest contemplatives who will not do well occasionally to abandon their interior quiet and then return to it with greater freedom. The most skilled contemplatives can attain quiet frequently and with greater facility, sometimes without attempting to do so and almost without thinking of it, for they have an eager love, and freedom of desire, since they have no concern with all that is not God. If you cannot understand this, endeavour to learn to do so, for experience is the best teacher. Here we shall try to show that every contemplative must learn to order himself. He must be like a skilled worker who is expert in many crafts, one of which is so important, and so profitable, demanding so little labour yet producing such notable results, that he occupies himself with it for the greater part of his time, and yet, since on occasions he finds divers impediments to this work, arising from lack of material or from his own insufficient knowledge of his craft, he must needs busy himself with other less gainful occupations which are related to the principal one.

Take an illustration of this so that you may the better understand it. A certain silversmith is a great master of his art, and, as he sits at his work, he can make many splendid objects which are admired by all who see them : he can also enamel and set precious stones and other things of that kind. But, as he cannot always labour quietly in his workshop, not be always engaged upon his rare work without intermission of time, he has also to be able to do business. So on occasions he leaves his workshop and goes to the mart, where there is much gold and silver, and that which he acquires there encourages him to sit down again to his chief occupation. By the silversmith is to be understood the soul ; by his work, contemplation ; and by the occupation of enamelling, quiet. When he leaves the workshop, he is making use of his understanding ; he goes to the mart by meditating on created things, where in each and all of the creatures he finds such abundance of matters whereat to wonder that fresh aspiration comes to him from those very things for which he left his quiet ; so he leaves them all with the greatest freedom of spirit. You should note here that no man will ever be able to teach the silversmith his art if Divine Goodness open not his intelligence and enable him to understand it. Wherefore any perfect craftsman must refer to all the skill which he has in his special office to God. And the greater is the skill, or the more important his craft, wherewith you busy yourself, the more learning you have, or the more hidden wisdom, or whatsoever else it be, the more obliged you are to refer them to the great goodness of God, Who gives you the capacity for everything that you know.

We may find a more authoritative illustration of this truth if we have recourse to a figure in Holy Scripture which seems to teach us the same lesson. In the thirty-first chapter of Exodus, our Lord God says : 'I have called Bezeleel, and have given him fullness of spiritual gifts - wisdom, and understanding, and knowledge - so that he may be able to understand and devise whatsoever may be made of gold, and silver, and brass, of marble, and precious stones, and a great variety of every kind of wood.' The name Bezaleel may be interpreted as meaning 'shadow of God' and is a figure of the contemplative soul, which is drawn and gathered under the shadow of God - that is to say, under the protection of Christ. To such a soul, in the person of Our Lady, the archangel Saint Gabriel says, in the first chapter of Saint Luke : 'The power of the Most High shall overshallow thee.' So that Bezaleel is the shadow of God, and the soul whom the power of the Most High draws into the shadow or the protection of His great loving-kindness.

Now what is meant by Our Lord's calling Bezaleel by name, save that He attracts to Himself the contemplative soul, whom He calls whenever with His secret, intimate and Divine touches He inspires it to enter within itself? Then it is that this gentlest Lord shows the souls that give themselves to Him by love all that they need to know. What is meant by His giving him fulness of spiritual gifts save that He gives such a soul freedom, or instructs it, by means of mystical theology, to the end that it may be able to aspire to union with its God through the exercise of love? And what is meant by His giving him understanding, save that He opens his mind and gives him comprehension, removing the husk for himand enabling him to understand the secrets of the spirit which lies beneath the letter, and to convert all that he understands to pure love? What is the meaning in the passage of the giving to him of wisdom save that He has given him knowledge, through delectable consolation, whereby he may devote himself to quiet recollection and in quiet contemplation may experience touches of love? The passage also says that He has given him knowledge, whereby contemplative souls are able to enlighten others who, in the spirit of truth, are striving to experience these spiritual touches which may be given on the path of contemplation, and to explain certain secret matters which this knowledge enables them to understand. So it may happen that a contemplative is asked a question by one who has less experience that he, and at the first words that he utters the enquirer already understands the matter and has obtained the answer which he desired. This I know by experience on occasions when I have laid my problems before persons more experienced than I.

At the place where the passage says that God gave to Bezaleel the fulness of the spirit of God, the interlinear commentary has 'spiritual gifts'. This teaches us that all the gifts and graces which these souls receive are spiritual gifts ; and the commentator means that they are the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which, however numerous they be, can be classed in seven categories, seven being a number expressive of perfection. The passage, then, says that God has given to Bezaleel, the contemplative soul, three of these seven principal gifts - the spirit of understanding, and of wisdom, and of knowledge. May Our Lord, of His great clemency, give these to us all.

CHAPTER 25 - How Ordinary Contemplation differs from that which is Pure and Perfect
God, as has been said, gave Bezaleel fulness of spiritual gifts, as has been explained. And the prophet says that he gave them to him so that he might be able to devise the things that can and have to be made of gold and silver and brass and marble and precious stones. It may be observed that David, before his death, gave orders that Solomon, his son, should use these same things in building the temple of God. As appears from the twenty-ninth chapter of the first book of Chronicles, Solomon did indeed build the temple of God, making use of these materials sin the greatest abundance. This is also related in the second chapter of the second book of the Chronicles, where King Hiram, writing to Solomon, tells him that he is sending him a skilled craftsman, able to devise and work all things in gold and silver and brass and marble and precious stones, etc. In the chapter from which our earlier passage was taken, it is said that Bezaleel was skilled in this same operation and in these same metals. His skill, then, came from infused grace, as God, Who gave him fulness of intelligence, here says. The skill of the other came from acquired grace, because he learned from man. It has been explained, on very good groundsm that Bezaleel is a figure of the contemplative soul. We have now seen that Solomon used these materials, and many more, for building the temple of God. And the apostle Saint Paul says in the first epistle to the Corinthians : 'Every righteous soul is a living temple of God'. So that both the figures from Holy Scripture which are found in the two chapters quoted agree in that they are figures of the soul.
You must now know that every contemplative soul, especially at the beginning of his contemplation and as he makes progess in it, sets out and continues with acquired grace - I mean that he receives grace from God so as to be able to dispose and order himself and to gain the qualities that are required of the soul which is to attain quiet contemplation. This preparation which the soul makes, if its works are upright, is called acquisition, as though one were working to acquire worldly goods, and the virtues which it gains in that way are called acquired virtues : these are learned from men, by means of examples which are given us by persons who are good, and were left us by the saints. These contemplative souls are comparable to the craftsman said to be very skilful whom King Hiram sent to Solomon's temple.
Quiet contemplatives, who will have made much progress by means of that which they have acquired through the help of God, are figured in the other and much more able craftsman, Bezaleel, whose grace was not acquired in successive stages, but was infused by God. Now if each one, and both, of these craftmen, and the temple of Solomon, represent the contemplative soul, it may be understood that the souls who attain quiet in perfect contemplation, wherein they know naught save pure and unitive love, neither perform their work, nor preserve their quiet, nor melt in the fires of love by acquired grace - that is, grace acquired by human diligence - but by infused grace, as did Bezaleel, the 'soul placed underd the shadow of God,' to whom, as the passage says, God gave the fulness of His spirit.
We can now see in what way and manner Bezaleel will work the gold, silver, brass, marble, precious stones and wood to which the passage refers. Gold, of course, is so precious a metal that he who is given most of it will be working with the riches of materials and also will be free from apprehension as to whether his work is all the time proceeding well. Gold, in Holy Scripture, signifies strength, and the more strength a soul has the better it works, and the more perseveringly, and with the less apprehension. The recollected man knows all that gold will do if he perseveres with strenuous effort, and with great care, and with much fervour, as he draws near to his God amid numberless persecutions, and general disfavour, finding himself strong, and fervent, and strengthened in all prosperity. So that gold here signifies the strength which God infuses in souls that love Him, and which is one of the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. If by gold we had not to understand strength, we should not read, in the thirty-first chapter of the book of Job, these words wherein holy Job justifies the things he does for the praise of God : 'If I have thought gold my strength'. Silver is intended to signify for us eloquence or gracefulness in speech, according to the interlinear commnentary on the passage quoted from Deuteronomy. The same thing may be gathered from the eleventh Psalm. In the one place we read that the words of the Lord are 'refined silver' and in the other that 'silver is eloquence,' showing an agreement between the two authors. Wherefore, just as Bezaleel can work well in every kind of silver, even so does the contemplative soul order his words in such a way that they nuture both himself and all who hear them with the doctine of Christ, learned in the school of love.
These souls can also work in brass, which they do when they measure their words to such a degree that, save when they are addressed, or from some necessity, they are well-neigh always silent. Brass is of little value, but gives out a good sound, and thus signifies the sound of carefully measured words, which since they are good and have a good sound, you would wish to hear in any teacher. But if they conform not in worth with our works they make a tinkling or brassy sound. Were this not so, Saint Paul would not have said in the thirteenth chapter of his first epistle to the Corinthians : 'If anyone should do very great works and have not charity, he is like the stroke of a bell or sounding brass'. Marble, as we all know, is the basis or foundation whereon the strength of an edifice rests, and Bezaleel works in marble when the contemplative soul is founded upon quiet and the strength of the edifice is sustained by the perseverance wherewith he withdraws himself and remains still, without moving, by the help of God. Wherefore both Bezaleel and Solomon, in the passage quoted, use marble in their labours. Bezaleel, who is in the shadow of God, works upon a foundation of marble ; Solomon, erecting the temple of God, orders marble to be brought for the building.
It remains to be added that he is also skilled in working in many different kinds of wood. And here it must be observed that, if the wood which the skilled craftsmen are to use is to be good, it must be dry wood ; and most woods that we see are imperfect, for, if they are dry and twisted, they cannot be straightened, and sometimes they split, or become worm-eaten, and in time grow useless. So, when I say that Bezaleel received intelligence and was thus able to work in a great variety of woods, it is as though one were to say that the contemplative soul receives from Our Lord, in quiet contemplation, grace for the ordering of his life ; and there is nothing twisted about his way of living, so that he sets a very good example ; and his life is secure from the ravages of worms, his conscience is quiet and free from all indiscreet passions, so that nothing can disturb him ; and his life is not split in two in such a way as to prevent him from showing charity or rendering obedience. And since no contemplative who has not these qualities can attain to perfection, and failure to have them - that is to say, the faults in the wood - in any religious is very blameworthy, the prophet Isaiah says, in the nineteenth chapter, concerning such twisted, worm-eaten or otherwise faulty wood : 'Let the men who base their works on wood be confounded.'
The conclusion of this, is that it behoves any contemplative to be able to work according to a rule of discretion : in quiet, when he can, and to a limited extent with the understanding when there is necessity. May Christ Jesus be the protection of us all and show us how it behoves us to work.

CHAPTER 26 - Of Four Different Kinds of Love, and of its Meaning, and of its Transformation
Justice, in its essence, is one and no more, but as regards to particular manner of working it has different names - there are the ordinary courts, the tribunals, courts of the Inquisition, etc. The same is true of the love created by our God and Lord in souls that love. When this love makes us careful and assiduous about attaining virtue and about eradicating our vices and living an ordered life, it is called operative love, and, if it ceases to operate, it is not love at all. When this love grows and makes us diligent in the service of our God and in the attainment of quiet in Him, so that we put away from ourselves all things that minister not to this intention, and when we have no thought for our own profit and love God with the love given to a lover alone, this is called naked love, because it is stripped bare of all self-interest. And again, if this love grows until we go straight to God without the meditation of creatures or by way of the faculties, but by aspiration of the affective nature whereby the soul is of a sudden recollected in unity of substance, it is called essential love, for, during the times when the soul loves in this way, its entire occupation is in Eternal Substance or Divine Essence, and it feels that its love is like a drop of water falling into a boundless sea. And finally, when this love grows still more through being completely stripped of all that is not God and by the more complete preparation of the enamoured soul, Divine condescension receives it and creates and unites this our created love with His infinite love, it is called unitive love, since through Divine clemency it is united with God.
Here, as you see, are four different kinds of love. The first befits beginners, when they are first aroused to love. The second belongs to those who have made progress in contemplation. The third belongs to those to those who are approaching perfection. The fourth is that of the most perfect in quiet contemplation. It is of these last that Saint Paul speaks when he says, in the sixth chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians :'The souls that are joined to the Lord are one spirit with Him.' You must note here that until, by the help of God, this love of ours is presented to the Divine presence, our own skill can accomplish its work by means of Divine aspirationm together with a pure conscience, but in the union of our love with Infinite Love, the work is that of Divine condescension through Divine clemency.
It must be noted that, whenever we use the word 'love', we indicate unitive love, when unites lover and beloved, and, by means of the true bond of grace, makes both into one. But you should understand that this bond, or this union, is most properly and truly so when love has grown in the soul according to the four ways of love which have been discribed. Hence it must be observed that the soul which desires to be infused and transformed into the ocean of Infinite, Uncreated Love must needs be transmuted in love, and this love must go to the centre whence it came - that is, to its God. Let the soul be thought of as a precious stone, so perfectly cut that it has no rough edges, and let this stone be placed in a reliquary extremely lofty and as broad as it is high, and let no heed be paid to its size. The stone is our created love. The reliquary is Infinite Love. The stone loses nothing of its essence by being placed in the reliquary wherein it is placed ; it is only to the reliquary that people people pay any heed. These are inadequate comparisons, but they open our eyes somewhat so that the least practised of us can understand that which those who devote themselves to quiet contemplation have understood already.
To explain this infusing of the soul in love we may use an illustration which we took in speaking of essential love. The love of such a soul is a little drop which is absorbed by the ocean of the waters of our Infinite Love. Had this not been so, the Psalmist, in the name of Christ Jesus, would not have said in the twenty-first Psalm : 'They have poured me out like water.' Which is as though he had said : 'I was consenting to the pouring out of this temporal life of My Humanity, as if it were water, into the infinite love wherewith I worked the redemption of all humanity. So that I poured out all My blood like water with the infinite love that I have for my creatures.' So the most Sacred Humanity of our Redeemer is like a drop of water by comparison with His inaccessible Divinity, and because of the infusion of this drop of water in that Infinity is a true infusion of love, it is capable here of nuturing our souls on love. And, in order that our souls may the more clearly understand this method of infusing themselves or of approaching lovingly to God, and in order that they may know that the waters here referred to are a figure of love, this good thing, which is love, should be poured into Love as it were water - a little drop into an infinite sea. For this reason Jeremiah exhorts us, in the second chapter of Lamentations, in these words : 'Pour out thy heart in the love of thy God even as one who pours out water.'
Facility, then, in attaining quiet contemplation lies in unconditional love and in the pouring out of our love into Love Infinite : that is to say, the lover loses himself so completely that there remains nothing of him becuase of the infinity of the Love whereinto he pours himself. Wherefore says Herp : 'At such a time the spirit ceases to live to itself because it leaves wholly to God.' We may note, however, that it is possible to explain even more clearly the nature of this approach of ours to the love of our God by looking at some examples which indicate the manner wherein we are transformed in Him, just as those have done which have illustrated the process of infusion. Thus we may say that the love of our God infuses our souls into itself like the sun upon glass, which illumines it, and penetrates it, and is reflected within it ; but He transforms us in His love as iron is changed into fire. Again, His greatness reflects itself in our littleness as a huge mirror is reflected in a very small one. If you take a mirror so small as to be no larger than a real (small silver coin), and put it into a glass of water and turn it towards the sun, you will see the entire sphere of the sun, which is larger than the whole earth, enclosed and gathered up in that tiny speck of a mirror. By this you will understand that the living Sun of Righteousness, Christ our Lord, gathers Himself together and encloses Himself in the interior of the mirror of your soul, even while you are submerged in the waters of our restless life.
Let us here conclude, then, that, in order to be infused in Infinite Love, and transformed like iron in Infinite Fire, or in order that the brightest of Suns will infuse Himself into our glass, you need do no more than ever within yourself, since you know that in the tiny mirror of your recollected soul you will find your infinite God. So, if they tell you that your desires should rise high, understand that to mean high above everything created ; and if they tell you to raise your affective nature or uplift you aspiration, they are telling you to put below your feet all that is not God and to raise yourself above everything until you enter into yourself. And know that although, when you are within yourself, you may not be thinking of Heaven nor of the angelic host or choir, you are nevertheless far higher than Heaven, since you are the temple of God, and God is within you, and you are with Him and free from all His creatures. When Saint Paul said that our conversation is in the heavens, you may be sure that he was already in the presence of God through his complete recollection within his inward man, which is the true Heaven wherein you are always with God if you keep yourself within Him through the grace of His love. May the angels give Him thanks.

CHAPTER 27 - What is Meant by Thinking of Nothing in Perfect Contemplation, and of the Authority and Utility of Mystical Theology
You have already learned that, in the secret pursuit of this business, no thoughts, however good, can be allowed to enter the way of quiet in perfect contemplation. Concerning this you must observe that Henry Carlaal, a most quiet contemplative, in soliloquizing upon this matter, says as follows : 'Oh, my soul, thou labourest much, since thou thinkest upon many things. Think upon one only, and thou wilt labour less, and with greater gain ; I would even tell thee, if thou canst, and knowest how, and art willing to do so, to think of nothing, and thou wilt gain more without any labour.' He that hath ears, let him hear, and let him know that in this thinking of nothing there is comprehended a great world, wherein perfect contemplation comprehends and holds within itself all that merits being desired ; and, as this 'all' is God alone, it follows that in His presence all else is nothing ; and being nothing, is no subject for thought.
Quiet contemplation occupies itself in God alone - and by this I mean in His love alone. The soul that contemplates Him thus is aware of naught within itself save the spark of love, which is most living within in. This spark, compared with the fire of love whereon the soul is intent, is, as we have observed, like a drop of water in the vast ocean. The soul, which is so small a thing in the presence of that Infinite Love, is occupied in Him : whereon, then, can it think? Of a surety God is incomprehensible. Is it possible, then, that the busiest thoughts, or the keenest understanding, or aught else that relates to comprehension, can be of the least avail for comprehending Him? If you consider the matter well, you will realize why quiet contemplatives, who are on the road of perfect contemplation, will count it as time lost to think on things concerning themselves ; for they know well that, provided the soul which has acquired the habit of love withdraws not its love from that Infinite Love, it has in Him all the knowledge that it needs. If a soul has, and is capable of possessing, all good things at once, who would say that it is doing wisely in thinking upon good things of its own, which are of less importance? Saint Augustine, realizing the significance of this, said as follows : 'When I have God alone, I have in Him all that there is to be had, and, when together with Him I have all the things that He created, I have no more than if I had Him alone.' Which means : 'In very truth, all created things, in the presence of our God and Lord, are nothing.' Wherefore, of the soul that, through unitive love, is occupied in its God in quiet contemplation, it may indeed be truly said that it should think nothing, since in this thinking nothing it has all that whereon there is to think.
It may be said here that this Henry Carlaal, whose are the above-quoted words - that is, 'Oh, my soul, etc.' - was a theologian of Paris and a Carthusian monk, and in the holy Order of the Carthusians they very frequently sing at Matin that verse from the Lamentations of Jeremiah : 'Pour out thy heart in the presence of God as one who pours out from a vessel containing water.' And the heart, by which is here to be understood the fire of love which must be alive in every contemplative soul, must of a sudden pour itself wholly forth into Infinite Love, like to a jug full of water when it is turned face downwards. This means that we must return the whole of the love which we have received from our loving God, keeping back nothing. You will know that you are giving the whole of it when in your contemplation you know that you are thinking of nothing which is not God. And in all the intervening periods, you will know if you are giving your whole love to God, Who has such love for you, when you understand the meaning of those words used by the quiet contemplative Richard of Saint Victor in the sixteenth chapter of the fourth book of De Arca mystica : 'Truly, when we are able to receive any consolation or pleasure  from aught that draws us not near to God, I would not dare to say that we have the signs of loving our most loving God with fervour and zeal.' Just before this, he quotes the prophet Jeremiah, in the Lamentations, where he says : 'Arise, soul, and give praise to thy God in the night, at the beginning of the watches.' Which is as though he were to say : 'Let the affections rise by the way of aspiration, let the soul be lifted up to God in an instant of time.' When he says, 'at the beginning of the watches', it is as though he should say, 'in the first stage of your contemplation'. For to keep vigil, or to watch in prayer, is naught else than for the soul to be ready to raise its affective nature so as to be quiet in its God. So the soul can be said to be keeping itself in vigil when it keeps watch over itself so as to be ready to attain to its God.
The passage, then, says 'at the beginning of the watches', as though it should say : 'Let the beginning of your contemplation always be the raising up of the desire of your soul above all that is not God, so that no thought, however good, may find a place in it.' He means to say that, if your contemplation  is to be quiet and perfect, it must occupy itself with naught else than love. If your love be the quiet love of perfect contemplation, you will be unable to think of anything during that time ; for the love of my God, in Whom the soul is occupied, is neither cogitable nor intelligible, nor can our understanding comprehend Him ; but He can be desired and loved. In no way can the understanding apprehend Him, but He can be apprehended by the affective nature, by the desires and by the will alone.
If, then, the perfection of every contemplative consists in the love of our Christ Jesus, which is impeded by thought, we must needs grasp the meaning of the author who said that in quiet contemplation it is best to think nothing. When the passage quoted says that our hearts must arise at night, it means that, just as night removes form our corporeal vision all that we can clearly see, just so the sudden raising up of our affections hides from our intellectual sight all that God created, and it remains alone in Him. So we may read the passages in these two chapters together, as follows : 'Arise and give praise to God in the night at the beginning of the watches and pour out thy heart wholly in the presence of the Lord, even as one that pours water. In his reference to arising in the night he is like to the Psalmist, who in the hundred and thirty-eighth Psalm says : 'The night' - that is to say, the hiding by quiet contemplation - 'illumines the contemplative soul even as does the most dazzling brightness of the day - that is to say, of any intellectual comprehension. For in the darkness - that is to say, in the most secret silence of quiet contemplation - the soul finds as clear satisfaction as in the light which gives most consolation to the spirit ; because in the one and in the other the soul has conformity with the will of its God.
In conclusion, we may say that in souls long practised in contemplation it is an imperfection to think of any good thing pertaining to the creatures in themselves, and to try to seek in them reasons for loving Him Who is an ocean of love and is to be loved infinitely. Let the soul soar above all created things and lift itself far above them all, and journey to God by a sudden and momentary lifting up of the spirit, tarrying no longer on that road that the eyelid tarries when it blinks. Let the soul resemble the sun's ray, which is born in the east, yet reaches even to the west in the twinkling of an eye. Even so should the soul be : the spirit must rise up in an instant by the way of aspiration, more swiftly and instantaneously than the sun's own ray. Among the great advantages which mystical theology by the way of aspiration has over any intellectual exercise, there is one very highly to be esteemed, namely this : that if once this practice takes root in the soul it will be unlikely to lose it ; whether eating, or walking, or labouring, or even reading and writing, it will not cease in its operations, being aided by God.
And if, since we are men shackled by impediments, we sometimes grow careless, this same exercise that has implanted deep within us aspirations or affective prayer thus serves as a knocker, giving the soul a gentle but reproving blow just as it is becoming neglectful. To this, in a moment, without any intermediary, you can respond, and your response will be to lift up your love in an act of aspiration whither your affective nature is directed, and this response will be of great worth. Hence you must note that it is possible, and indeed certain, that many readers, through lack of experience, will fail to understand numerous points which to the more practised are quiet intelligible ; but failure to understand is no reason for doubting the efficacy of this Divine exercise, which Saint Paul taught to his disciple Dionysius ; who in perfect and most quiet contemplation surpassed all that have come after him, learning great things concerning comprehension of the Divine secrets and setting them down in writing. To Timothy he wrote on many and very fine points concerning quiet contemplation.
In the writings of Richard (of Saint Victor), too, and in Henry de Balma and Henry Herp, and Saint Bruno and Saint Gregory, together with many other saints, and many who are still living, and in Gerson and others, is exemplified the truth of this hidden science of mystical theology. It was on this foundation that saints established religious Orders, and it is most certainly the case that, had they not learnt this perfect science in quiet prayer, they could not have set their disciples so happily upon the way of perfection. Which perfection may we all be granted, through the Divine clemency of our most loving God.

CHAPTER 28 - When it beseems the Quiet Contemplative to engage in Vocal Prayer and to work with the Understanding
Any work of virtue, and any meditation on aught that is created and corporeal, or on the life and mysteries of our Christ Jesus is of very great merit ; and anyone who wins such merit, and has a clean conscience, receives from our God many graces and favours, especially as regards high meditation upon the mysteries of the life and Passion of Our Lord ; the which merits, in the soul that possesses them as it ought, surpass any that can be gained in this life, since they lead to the perfection of quiet contemplation, which can be attained by their means - I mean, by means of these merits. For, in truth, there is no open road to the most quiet contemplation of the incogitable and inaccessible Divinity, nor is there any entrance so sure as meditation on the mysteries of our Christ Jesus, founded on lively sense of humility deriving from our own knowledge of our annihilation.
But there should be mentioned a saying of Henry Herp's, found in the Golden Directory, which teaches us to realize that every meditation on any corporeal thing and every work of virtue belongs to the active spiritual life. He calls it active because it refers to the unquiet working of the understanding upon corporeal things, by comparison with the perfect operation of the quiet will, which work is love alone. And he calls it 'active spiritual' to distinguish it from the active works which we perform with this body and its members. We shall understand, then, from this, that the mention of spiritual men, or quiet contemplatives, or perfect contemplation, does not refer to contemplatives who cannot rise above all that is corporeal, and above all creatures, and above all that is not God. Who is there that has any interior vision and does not see that all discursive meditation upon any of the creatures is going slowly and gradually in search of love, which is the end of all contemplation? And who, again, does not realize that, when our understanding meditates upon corporeal things, however good they be, the imagination becomes absorbed in those things, which is no small impediment to those who are alert in mind, and sometimes, if one is not forewarned, does no little harm?
And now, if it cannot be denied that this drawback attaches to any meditation upon creatures, who among the more recollected will not realize that, if the will works by the way of aspiration, not only does it go journeying towards its God, but of a sudden the affection rises, and soars aloft, and in one brief instant attains what by the other way cannot be attained in a long time?
In order that this may the more readily be understood, I shall here set down almost literally an example or illustration of this given by the quiet contemplative Herp, whose teaching as regards perfect contemplation is very greatly to be esteemed. He makes the following comparison. A man living the active spiritual life has a direct intention. Another man, living the quiet and perfect contemplative life, has a simple intention. The two pray for the whole Church, for the quick and the dead, for all their friends, and for every need. He who is living the active life makes his prayer by meditating through the operation of the understanding, which represents to itself the bodily form of that which he is commending to God, and at times, when repeating his petitions, he does likewise. But he cannot completely free himself from certain representations and images of those for whom he prays and of their needs ; and this is a very great impediment to anyone who desires to withdraw within himself and to contemplate in quiet, for it greatly distracts him. The second, who, as has been said, is on the contemplative road, and has a simple intention, quietly and lovingly calls to mind, by mental vision, his friends and relatives, and purgatory, and all the needs of Holy Mother Church, and the conversion of unbelievers. All this he comprehends with tranquil yet living faith, just as if with one glance he desired to take in many thousands of men. This man, when he is needed in the world, looks at everything without being distracted by a single thought. It is for this reason that he is said to have a simple intention - that is to say, because he allows his inmost gaze to rest on naught but God, in Whom he sees all that he could wish to see in all his needs. And with that quiet, and with a faith conscious of his needs, he represents them to God, and silently and secretly asks His help as regards them all.
This way of prayer is perfect, and is very fruitful, because the soul that follows it sets no intermediary between itself and its God, for its faith comprehends and sees very clearly the God in Whose presence it is, and all the necessities which at any time the soul could desire ; and just as this living faith reaches the soul that the Divine Wisdom knows all that it desires and has desired to ask, so it also understands that Infinite Goodness is pleased to grant it that part of all its desires which it is fitting that it should obtain. Thus, withdrawn into its quiet, having one single and simple intention, it achieves more in an instant than can the other direct intention, enclosed within the understanding, over long periods of time and by means of great labour. Never, by entering into discursive detail, will it be able to ask for so much as can be encompassed, without any wasting of time, by the soul that is withdrawn into its quiet. It is for this reason that Henry Herp says that the contemplative should practise discursive meditations, which are sometimes accompanied by vocal prayers that are not strictly necessary, only for so long as he finds himself unready for quiet and for simple contemplation. Such an exception will, of course, always be made by those who have an obligation to say vocal prayers, as in the Mass and in other Divine offices and the canonical Hours. But the quiet contemplative ought not to desire to use such prayers save in order to set a good example by confessing and praising in word the great goodness of God, and to arouse himself, at times when discretion so indicates, until his affections begin to be carried upward by the fire of love. Then the time will have come to leave vocal prayer and operations of the understanding, save in the case stated, when vocal prayer is of obligation, for they greatly impede the quiet of powerful tranquility, wherein, as also in the love which it contains, is found the perfection of true, ready and simple contemplation.
Concerning this, Herp remarks that the wheat, when it is threshed, is separated from its straw, the straw being given to the animals, but the wheat stored away and carefully preserved, and compares vocal prayers to the straw and the wheat to the withdrawal of quiet. For a certain period, he says, we must thresh the wheat, and we must be prepared to work with the understanding until the wheat of quiet is found among the straw, and is separated from it. When that time comes, we must put aside words, and vocal prayers, and all discursive operations, which, like the straw, will sustain our lower animal like powers - that is, the lower movements of concupiscence, which are always concerned with the good of the body and works that are of the earth. These Herp likens to the animals, comparing them with the higher powers of our souls, which see to rise to higher things by love alone. From this we may gather that the prayer which is most perfect, and most comprehensive, and most potent with God is that which is most quiet, since in this quiet the soul is most attentive to God and hereby is succeeds in attaining the things which it asks from our gracious God in all humility.
On this subject it is written in the thirty-third chapter of the second book of the Chronicles that King Manasseh, who greatly offended God, and worshipped idols, and had ever been prone to commit the greatest iniquity, was converted, through Divine clemency, to God our Lord ; and, recognizing the great abomination which he had committed, he besought mercy ; and Our Lord heard him and received his prayer, because he prayed earnestly. From this the conclusion is clear that the readiest attentiveness to God consists in the readiest quiet and in the simplest kind of prayer. Now the name Manasseh means 'forgotten' or 'neglected', and Manasseh is a figure of the souls who are immersed in the world and neglectful of God, who, whensoever they set their affections on miserable things that pass away, commit idolatory, forgetting their God and the keeping of His commandments. This Manasseh reigned for five-and-fifty years, during the greater part of which time he continued in his forgetfulness of our God and Lord, and in the offences which he committed against Him ; which shows that the neglectful souls of which he is a type continue in their forgetfulness of God for so long as the world is their friend and brings them prosperity. Further, in the course of this long period, King Manasseh, by divine permission, was deprived of his kingdom, and carried off to Babylon, and thrown into a prison cell and afflicted with great distress, during the which time he returned to himself and uttered the abovementioned prayer, and obtained mercy from our God and Lord, Who succoured his soul and allowed him to return, a free man, to his kingdom. This clearly teaches us that worldly prosperity in no good thing for neglectful souls and that Divine punishments make them return to God. As Saint Gregory says : 'The punishment which one who has offended receives  for his fault opens the eyes of his knowledge that he may understand that whereof while at fault he was ignorant.' And in another place he says : 'The very wrong which the sinner has committed is drawn like a veil across his interior sight so that the wretched and careless man who has deliberately hidden from himself the knowledge of all that he might gain may not see how much he is losing.'
So that, when a provable sinner - I mean, one known to be a sinner - continues in the wicked acts of his transgression and knows himself to be so doing, and when fortune prospers him, then, even though men know it not, it is a sign that he is receiving some small blessings because he will have no eternal blessings to hope for. So, returning to our author, let us realize that Manasseh, a king who for many years had lived in prosperity, was a miserable captive of Satan ; and then, taken captive, imprisoned, persecuted and despised of men, he returned to himself in the midst of so many afflictions and of such adverse fortune, besought God's forgiveness and was set free, both from his present adversity and from his previous captivity. It may be concluded that this was granted him because he turned to God, showed great contrition, did penance and prayed with all the earnestness that is to be found in the memorable and intimate words of his loving prayer : this, because of its great sublimity, is to be found in Holy Scripture, at the end of the second book of the Chronicles.
As we read his words, we can recognize in them the reasoning of his mind, wherewith he examined the difference in his mode of life, and form this drew contrition and tears of heart-felt grief, wherewith he laved his soul. We know, too, from the words of the text that he prayed with great earnestness, and such ready earnestness belongs much more to withdrawal into quiet and to the loving will than to the understanding. From this we learn that vocal prayers and words of love, coming by way of the understanding, serve greatly to awaken affection, but not to fix the attention. They inspire whith courage, but they do not quiet the soul, for which cause they are to be employed with discretion and only at times when they are necessary for such awakening. But, when the soul has found quiet, it can take its ease and abandon all discursive reasoning, and pray with the earnestness which the sacred writer here describes. And may God protect all.

CHAPTER 29 - The Readier and Purer is Quiet Contemplation, the more Transcendent is it Any contemplative who is raised to a high degree of quiet has, or should have, some special private devotion to Our Lady and to the sacred Cross and to the wounds of Christ ; the which special devotion he should present to Him daily by means of a brief and ordered vocal prayer, the time allotted to which may be less than half an hour. I say less than half an hour because he can enter into quiet several times during this period, and not only will he gain as much profit as by praying for longer, but he will achieve his intention in quite a short time., because he has been praying more than he could ever hope to do. It must be noted here that any quiet contemplative prays in a different way from those who are not contemplatives, because his very habit or custom of interior recollection prompts him, though he be not thinking of it, to pray in a low voice when he prays for himself alone, and above all if he is not saying some office - that is, some Divine office - which is of obligation. In such a way do those pray who are quiet that many and many times their speech is within their breast. They pray in their heart, and, although their lips move and they themselves are conscious of the loving words that they utter, you may listen to them attentively but you will not make out a single word.
This manner of prayer has great efficacy, for it is quickly turned into true quiet. In order that this may be made fundamentally clear, let us call to mind a passage from Holy Scripture, very relevant to this matter, which would literally seem to have been written in order to show us the blessings and the great advantage of this manner of prayer. In the first chapter of the first book of Samuel it is written that that honoured matron Hannah, the mother of Samuel, was praying in the Temple, and that she was praying in her heart, and her lips were seen to move, but in no wise was there heard any word or sound or movement of the voice ; for which cause the great priest Eli looked very attentively at her to find if he could hear any word of her prayer or if her lips would cease to move. Now the name Hannah means 'grace', and the name Samuel, being interpreted, is 'asked of God', so that, if we join these two names together, their meaning will be 'grace asked of God', and will stand for any soul that is in grace. It is well to know that the soul that is closest to the Divine fellowship will receive most grace from God, and that he who most reverences God, with the greatest humility, is he who has the closest fellowship with Him. And he who is humblest in His presence is he who attains to the greatest knowledge is possible in this our exile. There is no way on earth of realizing the possibility, or of being able to apprehend this delectable science, save in mental prayer, which is of the greater profit in this respect according as it is accompanied by the greater quiet and the more complete withdrawal.
Hannah, the mother of Samuel, then, prays in the Temple when the soul that is in grace, and is asking grace of God, withdraws within itself to pray. This soul speaks within its heart - that is, all its colloquies take place within itself silently. It moves its lips - that is, the affective nature rises by way of aspiration, and the will moves as it loves, yet is almost without movement, for it occupies itself in love alone. When we say that the will loves we are describing that which seems to signify a movement in the deepest quiet, corresponding to a movement of the lips, although, in very truth, when our will loves in pure quiet, it is more properly submitting to the working within it of our loving Lord ; wherefore it is incorrect to say that it works either by means of movement or in any other way. So that in quiet contemplation our amative power - that is, the eager will that attains in love - must be considered as passive, and not as active.
Yet, notwithstanding this point concerning passivity, we can understand here that this amative power and the affective nature may, in the passage quoted, be represented by the lips. It goes on to say : 'In no way was there any sound of her voice, whether little or much' : in this prayer there was no kind of word spoken. Here it is shown that, in the true quiet of perfect contemplation, the soul that contemplates neither hears, nor experiences within itself, any interior movement, nor speech of the understanding, nor unrest caused by any incapacity ; whereby it is to be understood that, whensoever and as often as our contemplation is pure and perfect, even so often does the soul that contemplates find itself endowed with such clearness of sight and transcendence of penetration that it can understand the secrets which were hidden from it first of all. For, the more it grows in perseverance of quiet, the clearer becomes its interior sight. And although its faculties, being enlightened, move, yet without movement, to understand that which they understood not before, no sound of any voice is heard therein, since none comprehends the interior operation of that soul save God alone. But the lips move solely in prayer in the sight of the great priest Eli, who is watching them, since the operation that is hidden within the quiet of the soul is always manifest to the eternal sight of God. And the lips move in the sight of those that look at them since men recognize the effects of virtue which souls practised in perfect prayer obtain in the secrecy of their withdrawal into quiet.
The passage continues : 'Eli looked attentively at her mouth. The text says no more than this, but the commentary says that he was watching to see if she would pronounce any words, or if the lips would cease to move, for, as has been said, Hannah moved her lips in her prayer, yet pronounced no word. It may be noted here that the name Eli means 'my Deity', or 'my God' ; and being High Priest in the Temple, the interpretation of his name denoted his office. The name Hannah, as has been said, means 'grace', so that we are to understand that she indicates the soul that in God's sight is gracious - or, as one may say, is 'in grace' - the which soul, in most quiet contemplation, occupies itself altogether in the love of the incomprehensible Deity. This soul speaks of itself within its heart only in the language of love, because it is speaking with its God alone, but it is seen to move its lips, because the effect of its quiet is recognized without ; none can understand a word that it says, because because none understands the fires of love which keep it wholly occupied within itself. But its lips move, because love itself permits it not to remain motionless, so that it may continually love more and move. Eli looked at Hannah ; and just so always are gracious souls, intent upon the service of their God, looked upon by Him with care and great affection, so that they sometimes feel almost as though the Lord were so closely guarding them that they need pay no need to the guardianship of others ; but they know full well that the Divine protection is forever over all the things He created, and by a singular privilege an increase of grace is granted to the gracious soul.
These words, then, which Eli said to this matron as she prayed are seen to strike a note of reproof, and, as we have observed, the name Eli means 'my God'. Now from these words of reproof which, as we say, Eli spoke to that soul in grace as she was occupied in devout prayer, we learn that at times our most loving God, for the greater merit of souls that love Him, permits them adversities and divers afflictions, and likewise the disfavour of men, and many things more. To those words of reproof spoken by Eli this woman who was at prayer replied with such meekness and such great humility that she shows us very clearly what reply is wont to be given, and should be given, by quiet contemplatives when by Divine dispensation they are beset with all kinds of tribulation. We may recall the answer made (to his wife) after each of his trials by the holy prophet in the second chapter of the book of Job : 'If we have received good things from the hand of the Lord gladly, why shall we not gladly bear any affliction for love of Him?' Upon receiving Eli's reproof, Hannah showed him the cause of the affliction concerning which she was praying, and with deep humility she begged him to receive her into his grace, saying, 'Would to God, my lord, that this thy handmaid might find grace in thy eyes!' For the more such souls are afflicted, by Divine dispensation, with any tribulation, the more do they humble themselves and the more continually vigilant are they to beg, with loving care, the succour of God.
She goes on to say : 'I have poured out my soul in the presence of the Lord.' For anything to be poured out wholly in one place two conditions are necessary : one, that that which is to be poured out must first be gathered together, and the second, that it must contain nothing hard, but must be liquid and freely flowing. For that reason, when in the second chapter of the Lamentations the prophet Jeremiah counsels any righteous soul to 'pour out his heart in the presence of our God and Lord', he instructs it clearly to pour it out 'like water', because water is liquid, and can be poured out all at once if there be any reason for it to be poured out at all.
While this holy matron, then, was speaking withing her heart, she was alone with her God in the tenderest and most intimate part of her inmost being ; and, as this interior colloquy was with her God alone, it made not itself heard in any outward sound or speech, From this let us understand that that soul praying in withdrawal and interior quiet was completely recollected, and had cast out all save God, and her love was so liquefied, and flowed so freely, that she could pour it all out at once before her Lord. So that, when any quiet contemplative says that he has poured out his soul in the presence of his God, that is as much as to say that in the love of his most loving Beloved he has flung his inmost being open wide. But no righteous soul can say this save at the times of his intimate quiet when he finds himself recollected and has cast out all that is not God. May He ever be our protection.

CHAPTER 30 - That our Own Efforts excite our Affective Nature and how Love grows with Knowledge
It has been made clear that our whole purpose here is to show, by authoritative precepts, the manner  wherein the soul can make attentive prayer, for in the most ready and continuous attentiveness consists of the closest conformity with the blessed, whose contemplation is in everlasting quiet. The more closely we conform to them, the nearer shall we be to perfection. Once this is understood, it will become perfectly clear how notable a difference there is between meditation by the way of understanding and by the order of reason founded on the mode of operation natural to the work of the quiet will, which transcends nature, being founded on love for the sake of love alone. I do not say that loving is not perfectly natural to souls in grace, for it was to this end that He who is Infinite Love created them ; but I piously assert that that which in the quiet of love the loving Lord works in souls that love Him is supernatural and in each and every way transcends all human power.
We shall now make it a little clearer how we must put forth earnest efforts, and must also have a clear conscience, a complete disregard for all that leads us not to God, and lively desires ever to draw near to Him ; how we must deny our sensual inclination, and subject our will to that of others, and serenely disregard others' shortcomings. It is not for us to remedy these, and yet it is certain that they keep our petty nature such continual company as hardly ever to leave it ; so common are these that I could well believe that those which others observe and endure in me are more numerous that those which I endure in them. With this preparation we, on our part, with the help of God, can excite our affective nature, and raise up our aspiration and order for ourselves our (practice of) sudden quiet.
But the perfecting of this work, in very truth, belongs to Divine condescension, whereon we can so surely count, if for our part we make all possible preparation, that, if our faith be alive, or only slightly aroused, it sees and realizes how God is pleased to work lovingly in the union of His infinite love and the love that He creates or infuses in such souls ; for He Who works perfectly is both pleased and able to bring the souls whom He created so that they should love Him, to love Him with great perfection ; and His loving kindness is well pleased if they are disposed ever to perfect themselves. But, O unfathomable love, O our God, O love of all that love Thee, when will Thy souls, wounded with the arrows of Thy love, realize how deeply the love Thee? Certain it is, our Lord God, that this knowledge consists not only in prosperity, or in spiritual sweetness, or in the pleasure of devotion, but in the conformity that there is between this created love and this Love that created it ; and this all righteous souls know in themselves if they find themselves happy and diligent (in God's service) when by Divine dispensation they are tried with afflictions as when they are consoled by the pleasures of devotion. For, in truth, our most sweet Lord God, to suffer that which Thou dost permit gives no less satisfaction to the soul that loves Thee than serenely to embrace the sweetness which Thou dost give in devotion. For souls that love Thee know that their happiness consists in loving that which Thou dost love.
According to Richard (of Saint Victor), not to enjoy Thee with sweetness of devotion is no sign that a soul loves Thee perfectly, or is entirely loved ; and I agree with him in this. For the soul that has set the strength of its happiness upon willing that which Thou willest, and in taking that which Thou givest it and being ever content never ceases to taste the sweetness of this gracious union. He will say with Henry de Balma, a most skilled contemplative : 'If God should take from me each and every thing that of His graciousness He has given me, I shall not leave Him.' Here he is in conformity with Saint Paul, who, in the eighth chapter of his epistle to the Romans, says : 'No tribulation, nor any famine, nor any peril, nor distress, nor any persecution that can present itself in this life shall be able to separate us from Christ,' Certainly, our Lord, this same thing will be said by the soul who loves Thee not for what Thou hast to give, and loves Thy gifts only because they are given to him by Thy gracious Self. Such a one will not fail Thee even though he fail to receive the graces that he had aforetime. Of such souls wrote Saint Paul, in the thirteenth chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians, that charity weakens not in them, nor the love which they have to our God, even though the graces which they had received from Him may fail them.
But what will it be, my Lord, if the weak, who know not Thy mellifluous and life-giving fellowship, make difficulties over keeping so many things and put such caution in the way of coming to Thee? Well do I know how such souls, with their habitual lukewarmness, are accustomed to say that it is safer to go at the ordinary rate and not to trouble about more. These, according to the judgement of the most wise Solomon, in the eighteenth chapter of the Proverbs, must be at all times rejected, reproved adn vituperated, since without occasion they seek occasions to withdraw themselves from the true fellowship of our most loving Love. But, O gentle sweetness of all that go to Thee! Oh that Thou mightest be pleased to awaken those that sleep and melt those that have no warmth, anointing their innermost parts with the gentlest ointment of Thy visitation, so that they may be able and desirous to run after the odour of such fragrance to attain to Thee,  the life of all that seek to have Thy enduring friendship! For those that smell the sweetness of the trace or feeling of the ointments of Thy love, even such will attain the joy of quiet. They will say that they love Thee even as virgins, because they have been brought into the interior of Thy cellar of wine - that is, to the most secret silence of pure contemplation, where souls become inebriated with the immensity of love. Such inebriation makes them beside themselves, or forgetful, or freed from all that bears them not to Thee, so that with the greatest simplicity or the most naked purity they may immerse themselves in quiet contemplation, where perseverance will bring them to a knowledge of what they cannot desire. Let not those who are without experience think that the most practised feel the care or alertness needed by the followers of Christ to be a burden to them, for that is a great mistake, and conduces to fear, and there is no cause for being afraid.
But let them know it is a great truth that the very act of recollection, which has provided the soul with a method of making progress, that that very method of making progress takes away all the labour that there might be in this, and many proficient contemplatives have been taught by experience that, without taking any particular care as to whether they behave circumspectly, they can apprehend whatever is needful for them. They know that not a single restless motion will impede them, either within or without, for each will be felt, recognized and resisted by the soul at its first onset. And that which to those without experience seems laborious and difficult will to the more practised be a great consolation. Nor is there aught which gives them greater satisfaction than to find that they are walking circumspectly and that this circumspction neither impedes their quiet, nor takes up their time, nor even for the shortest space.
Some, I know, will say that, before such a person achieves this preparation and attains this liberty, he will have spent on it much time and care and labour. I can assure you that this is very true ; there is no branch of knowledge or physical exercise which is not difficult at the beginning, so any learner must needs be watchful and labour and keep careful guard over himself, as boys do when they are learning by eart and applying the rules of grammar. It is certainly passing strange to see young boys working like men to learn their rules or other trifles and then to observe men behaving like children, fearful of being like others who once were as (weak as) themselves, and have now arrived with little pains at a point which they themselves can reach if they will make the effort. They should cease to feign security when they are in manifest peril ; for that is what is done by those who say it is safer to go at an ordinary pace than to live circumspect lives in order to be contemplatives.
I do not mean that those who are not recollected are leading a perilous life so far as their salvation is concerned : for that their faith suffices, if their works are in harmony with it, and for religious it suffices that they should keep their rule, through the high merits whereof they may hope for salvation. But frankly I must say that it is a pity, and a highly deplorable thing, that in the schools of Christ they do not study with the greatest vigilance how and in what ways to acquire a loving and individual knowledge of our God and Lord, such as no man can acquire unless Our Lord Himself teach it him by mystical theology, which is learnt in contemplation in such a way that it will ever remain fixed in the purest, most intimate and most delicate parts of our inmost being. From this the heart can draw feelings which will continually arouse it to walk eagerly in love ; and he who feeds most on love perseveres most in loving and in giving time to prayer, and he who loves most tenderly gives the clearest sign that he has the greateset knowledge of God and the deepest reverence for Him and will walk the most humbly in His Divine Presence. It is verily and indeed this that comprises the security of humble souls that are intent upon God, and, in divers ways, feed upon love. And mature men will find no security  in saying that it is safer to go at an ordinary pace. May God protect all. Amen.

CHAPTER 31 - That Perfect Contemplation bears with it Piety and Charity and Love It is to be understood that, when the contemplative approaches perfection, he looks but little at his own profit, or devotion, or advantage, for all his study is to be purely, simply and entirely in conformity with the will of God. This conformity is highly meritorious ; and there is very great profit to be had from the simple desire to suffer whatsoever may befall, with deliberate determination, for the love of Jesus Christ, Whose most innocent life the contemplative has set in his soul as a mirror of all his interior and exterior movements. It should be noted, however, that the merit of a good desire never attains perfection until the desire be a living one. I mean that, if you set patience, or any other virtue, before you, that is very meritorious ; but when you come near to losing it and yet find that you still have it and persist in it, then you know well that it is a living desire which your soul conceived.
I do not say that you should no longer experience interior conflicts ; for when a virtue comes naturally to you and you are unconscious of any conflict it brings you little merit, and you need no advice concerning virtue for the necessary resistance. But when your neighbour or his affairs, justly or no, cause you inward grief and occasion you much searching of heart, and when you look in the mirror of your soul and find in it Christ your Example, Who is altogether humble and meek, and you conform yourself with Him for love of His love alone, receiving from His hand all that the world offers you both in prosperity and in adversity, this is indeed great progress in perfection. And to the end that this high perfection may be complete, a man's own advantage must be altogether cast aside, as has already been said. It is certain that the soul which desires to accept joyfully, and for love of Christ Jesus, any trial or trials whatsoever, has a very great advantage over the soul that desires the contrary in the shape of prosperity ; for the former will find what he desires whithersoever he goes, whereas the latter, who seeks prosperity, will have difficulty in finding it, will guard it uneasily and will enjoy it only for a short space of time.
This will explain the sentence in the last chapter which said : The circumspect life of the discreet contemplative will be a life that is most restful, and to suffer for the love of Jesus Christ whatsoever trials the world offers will be a consolation to him. And if at times, being human, we become neglectful, or feel some touch of dissapointment, or some urge of sensuality, that conformity which the soul has put on vanquishes it, so that the soul is itself again. In this way, nothing contrary can present itself to it which will sadden it for as much as half an hour, or indeed for the space of two credos, since God is its helper. The soul that tramples the world and all that it can offer firmly beneath its two feet - namely, reason and affection - has naught that it can fear ; for naught can be contrary to it, but all is according to its will, since it has no desire to choose, but receives all that comes as from the hand of God or by His permission. Only its ever-present humility leads it to be apprehensive of the faults that it may commit in the service and love of its most loving Good : this apprehension, however, is called the fear of sons, for the soul has cast out from itself and from its conduct all fear of slaves - that is, the fear felt by those who serve least they be punished. In such souls love destroys, annuls and annihilates the fear of death, of judgment, of purgatory and of hell, and of all contrary things imaginable. Naturally and reasonably, the righteous fear hell, but their fear is not of the penalties and the torments - nor do contemplatives fear these - but because those who suffer the torments are not in conformity with the will of God, but are obstinate in their wickedness. It is because of this obstinacy of those who are in hell, and their failure to conform with the will of my God, that the righteous fear it.
But, since the love which, by the great goodness of God, such souls possess, in Infinite Love, takes all fear from them and gives them security and true hope, in boundless charity, that they will never cease to will that which God wills, there is naught left for them to fear. For death and life, sickness and health, the comforts of prosperity - all these are in the hand of that Infinite Will and all will ever be well with us. So this fidelity which the enamoured sould has in its most loving Love and its true faith in the Lord's infinite goodness is the meet and opportune occasion for any hint of trial, in whatever circumstances it may occur, to be wholly converted into sweetness of love. We may be sure that if such a soul had any certainty that it would never offend its most loving God in this exile it would gladly accept as much as a hundred years of life ; but since Our Lord, in the judgment of His eternal wisdom and by the disposition of His infinite goodness, permits souls that are much practised in His love, to wonder, with great reason, if they will offend God by reason of these dunghills, our miserable bodies and this feeble flesh, they cannot, while they live in this tedious death, fail to say with the prophet David, in the hundred and nineteenth Psalm : 'Woe is me, that my exile is prolonged, and that I have to converse with them that offend God.'
Such souls, then, say with Saint Paul in the first chapter of the epistle to the Philippians : 'I have a desire to depart from this flesh, to be with Jesus Christ, so that I may have the certainty of never more being separated from Him, but it is fitting that I should remain with you for your own advantage, and because it is the will of my God.' This most holy apostle had indeed a desire to end this life, but, because a most ardent love was infused by the infinite fire into his inmost being, he set aside his own happiness so as to conform with the will of his God and for the happiness of his fellows, which consists in knowing, loving and reverencing God. And indeed, if piety is memory and reverence which these creatures offer to our God and Lord, it becomes very clear that the greatest service we can render Him, for His infinite goodness, is to win Him souls. If I divert my piety from my God to my fellows, it is well to understand that the greatest service that you can do to God, and equally the greatest of the good works that you can do to your fellows, is to endeavour to bring them to the knowledge and joy of that Infinite Love.
Piety, conceived in such terms as these, is one of the seven chief gifts of the Holy Spirit, Who implants in the soul an all but ceaseless yearning to soar upward to its God, and a desire to take with it all who are capable of doing the same ; and, since you have learned that piety is founded upon love, or is born of love in him who has fed upon love, you must now learn that this piety, which is born of this love, if it be true piety, never ceases to be enamoured. Then, in order that this love which the great goodness of God has increased in this soul may know that it has proceeded from that Infinite Love, it endeavours always to be, and remain, in its source, which is that Infinite Love. For it ever attempts to rise above all that is not God, so that it may attain to Him alone, and you must therefore understand that this piety which proceeds from this charity and love that the living God creates in the soul goes ever within it. The progress of this love to its God is ever-ready charity and the endeavour to see that all the souls created by God shall make similar progress is true piety.
Now as love which is purest and most perfect is acquired, or attained, or received, in the purest contemplation, which is a school wherein, by means of mystical theology, Christ reveals hidden wisdom to souls that love Him, we can clearly understand that the soul which most often and with the greatest solicitude practises quiet contemplation is the most eager in love and the most ready in piety. So that the more completely, the more readily and the more persistently the soul tramples the world and its pleasures beneath its feet, giving not the value of a pin for worldly prosperity, the more readily, and the more perfectly, and with the greater charity does this created love journey towards Love Uncreated, from Which it proceeds.
With respect to this contempt of the world, an anecdote may here be recounted concerning the philosopher Diogenes. Such was his wisdom and honesty of life that the Emperor paid him a personal visit. On his entering, the philosopher did not rise, wherefore the Emperor returned, speaking disparagingly of him. When it was remarked to Diogenes that he had not done well to behave with such lack of respect to the Imperial personage who had come to visit him in his poor and lowly home, the philosopher replied as follows : 'It beseems not my dignity to pay any reverence to one who is the servant of my servant ; for this world is certainly my servant, since I am so much its master that I would not give a farthing for it or for all that it contains : and the Emperor is a servant who serves this my servant continually, wherefore I did as I ought to have done in making no account of him, since neither of him nor of the world whose servant he is have I any need.' This he said solely out of zeal for virtue, and without charity, to indicate that the world and its delights are to be esteemed as naught ; and he teaches those who seek God by the way of exceeding great love and with a heart of charity how they are to repute the world and its toys.
The quiet contemplative, if he is to take no pleasure in these temporal things - I mean, in all the fleeting, miserable and deceptive shows of prosperity that the world has to give - must understand that, in so far as he lacks any of this determination, even so far is he from the perfection of love. Whatsoever miseries, labours, temptations and afflictions of any kind the world may offer him, he has not a farthing's worth of fear of them, because the love of his loving Lord and the true faith which he has in His infinite goodness teach him to desire eagerly to receive with equanimity all that God may give him, whether of prosperity or of adversity. And it is to be noted these two extremes, prosperity and adversity, are reversed in order on the road to perfection, since, when we refer to prosperity in speaking of contemplation, we understand only spiritual prosperity and the consolations of devotion.
The word adversity may be taken in two senses. In its more important sense it denotes any kind of worldly prosperity which takes no account of quiet in prayer, or impedes it. In its second sense it indicates any temptations, or the contempt of the worldly, or infirmities, or other such things, which, when they afflict and in any way impede quiet, are incorrectly called adversities upon the road to perfection ; but they are prosperity if they lead the soul to set its gaze upon the profit which they bring whenever they are received as from the hand of One Who does all things well. May God be glorified, and may He ever be our protection.
Since the whole aim of this third book is to unite the soul with its God by the way of unitive love, and the most perfect union that is possible or can be attained in his hard exile consists in communion through grace in the Most Holy Sacrament, for this cause and for the recreation of the souls that are most full of love, we intercalate the material which follows, in the name of Jesus.

CHAPTER 32 - Of the Love that God shows us in the Most High Sacrament, which the Souls most given to Contemplation most frequent
As from the highest mysteries of our Redeemer Christ there have come to us all the blessings which we have in the Church Militant, and all the glory which await us, and for which we hope, in the Church Triumphant, which is the life to come ; and as in this loving benefit of Holy Communion we have our God uncreated yet made human, with more marks of the fire of love which led Him to take our human nature than it is possible to contemplate ; and as in pure contemplation we receive mellifluous communication from Him, and in the living Host He Who is in every way infinitely to be loved communicates Himself to us ; and as furthermore in contemplation even the highest contemplatives enjoy Him at times and as they are able ; and in the Communion He gives Himself verily and indeed to those that are not contemplatives, and they receive Him as often as they will ; it is necessary that every contemplative who is practised in the Divine fellowship shall put forth every effort so as to receive Him whensoever he can, for the love that finds delight in quiet contemplation invites and impels him to desire to receive Him after the highest manner possible.
Souls practised in contemplation, who ever count it a very heavy burden to suffer the miseries of this tedious exile, may hear Christ Jesus, our loving Redeemer, inviting them to the feast of His ineffable bounty and saying, though Saint Matthew, in the eleventh chapter of his Gospel : 'Come unto Me, ye that labour and are burdened, for I will console you' - and strengthen you with My sweet refection. When these righteous souls taste this ineffable feast of infinite sweetness within their innermost being, and know not where or how to go to Him Who says 'Come unto Me', then, since they desire to reach Him by the surest road, whensoever and howsoever many times they feel within themselves the affliction of the intolerable burden of this miserable life, it behoves them to have recourse to that sublimest reception of the living Host, Who is God. It is for this cause that the souls most given to contemplation are the most frequent and the most constant in celebrating. At times they feel depressed in their most intimate and innermost being when, after celebrating, they contemplate with rays of love the length of time that must lapse ere with another day the return to this Holy Communion. Thus they live in the sweet and living fellowship of this Most High Sacrament.
And as these souls approach not this highest of mysteries for pleasure or for the spiritual savour of the sweetness which they experience at the moment of receiving it, but only for the love of God, and for the good of the Church, and for the glory of the great magnificence of Him Who calls and invites and draws them to Himself, they seldom lack a lively inspiration, an increase of love, a more ready reverence, and a deeper humility, because this Most High Sacrament in every way surpasses all human reason and every other sacrament, since it is the chief sign given to us by our sweetest Christ Jesus, to show us, as it ever does, the sweetness of His love, For this Most High Sacrament produces a marvellous effect upon the soul, even before it is received - when it is to be received - as though it were desirous to show us that all that we on our part can do to prepare for it is not sufficient. Wherefore God's limitless goodness performs that which, according to human possibility, is unattainable, and at the time of commuion His clemency grants the soul which has prepared itself as well as in it lies a new preparation which it cannot of itself attain. Into the tenderest, purest and most living part of its innermost being He infuses a new and living thing most meet for His indwelling. So, at least, I have heard, and he who told me knew it well, to the great glory of God.
Even if, on the vast majority of occasions, no experience is acutally felt of this sweet increase of new and living graces, it must not be supposed that it is possible to fail to receive it, even in the ordinary course of things, with each communion that is made in grace. For recollected souls, who are in a continuous state of preparation, employ all their time, and their whole lives, in such a way that they scarcely ever become neglectful or fail in anything because they feel nothing at some particular moment. Such souls as these know in some way, and are able to say, that they have no more need to prepare themselves on the day  whereon they are to celebrate than on any other day. 'They know by experience that whenever they say Mass they receive a habitual renewal ; and thus they know the meaning of that statement of the Apostle, who, in the eleventh chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians, says : 'They that receive the Most Holy Sacrament unworthily, receive judgment of damnation to themselves, not discerning - that is, not distinguishing, separating, dividing or making distinction - between the Body of the Lord and any physical food, and approaching (the Altar) to receive Him without making more preparation.'
It should be noted that this distinction belongs not only to the understanding, which it behoves to understand the truth of this mystery by considering the strength of charity and love, wherewith our sweetest Christ Jesus gives us Himself with all His immersity, the aim of this loving gift being to change us into Himself and give Himself to us as a pledge and first-fruits of glory, for the which He created us. But, while making this discernment or differentiation which we must needs make between this Divine reception and any other corporeal thing, we must also realize that, just as appetite or physical hunger disposes and prepares us to eat and drink, with the purpose and intent of keeping us in this temporal life, so reception of the Most Holy Sacrament must incite us to hunger for God and for knowledge of Him, so that we may reverence Him and that His will may be done. Thus we may dispose ourselves to be in a state to enter upon eternal life with the greatest perfection of the purest conscience, acquired and increased through the increase of the Divine fellowship of the Most High Sacrament of the Altar.
And, since this is the work of God's unbounded goodness, the greater the number of times is is worthily received, the more disposed becomes the recipient to receive it again. For the Divine condescension, through the clemency of that Most High Sacrament, disposes and teaches those who receive it to make the distinction mentioned, lovingly and eagerly, as regards to both the preparation of their mind and their outward mode of living. This discernment or distinction to which the Apsotle refers should also be made with respect to our habits and customs. Just as it is our nature which arouses in us the desire to sit down at an earthly table, so we must not go daily to that table which is the Altar because it is the custom of those who celebrate daily, or almost daily, to do so. Those of us who are not priests must be moved to go to Holy Communion on such days as we communicate, and those who are priests  must, unless prevented by some notable impediment, celebrate daily, solely because it is the desire and will of our Christ Jesus, Who of His goodness alone commands us to do this as a singular memorialof Himself. And, so that we might understand that this special memorial is to serve us as a lively preparation whensoever and as many times as we approach His table, He says to us expressly and in words that are notably clear : 'As often as you do this - that is, celebrate or communicate - do it in memory of me.' That is, with a tender remembrance of the lively charity wherewith I gave Myself to you, as a sign of the dearest love that it was possible to show you.
But brutish men partake of the sweetest Sacrament without purity of conscience, and such, on some future day, will receive the judgment spoken of by Saint Paul, namely : 'Those who celebrate or communicate unworthily take judgment upon themselves, not distinguishing - or discerning - the Body of our God and Lord from any other corporeal thing that they might wish to receive.' From the which may God guard us, of His infinite goodness. Amen.

CHAPTER 33 - That in order to approach the Holy Communion Each One must examine Himself in Love and in Humility and in the Memory of Christ
In the eleventh chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians, the Apostle warns us that everyone, before approaching the Most Holy Sacrament, must examine himself. But, O my God, what is there in myself that I can examine? Is any examination needed to reveal my constant lukewarmness, my tendencies to weakness and my careless life? What is there that an examination can reveal, O my God, in such a man as Thou knowest me to be, Thou Who in Thy mercy hast not condemned me? Let such a man examine himself before partaking of this Bread of angels ; let him examine himself well, to see if he knows who he is, so that the knowledge may bring him very ready humility, wherewith alone he will receive the sacred Bread. And since such examination cannot be perfectly accomplished save by the recollectedness of quiet contemplation, the more of quiet and withdrawal into himself any contemplative may achieve - putting aside commerce with men save when this is demanded by obedience and charity - the more signs will he show of loving humility. Concerning this, that fine contemplative Richard (of Saint Victor), in the fifteenth chapter of the fourth book of De Arca mystica, says : 'Since singular love likes to seek solitude, it is needful that one who has fed freely upon love should put form him all affections, and cast aside all cogitations, and withdraw himself from communication with others, so that with the greater freedom and gladness and happiness he may approach and embrace his true love. This is the true and ready and eager preparation which, in order to be able to receive the Most Holy Sacrament, the soul that is readiest in charity and love has to make all his life long, doing all that for his own part he can, by the help of God, in addition to making his confession.' It is as to this that we have to examine our soul, our conscience and our inmost being. And let those of us who find ourselves in this state - that is to say, with a pure heart, and living faith and no lack of hope and charity to our fellows, and living desires for God - keep the laws of whatever the way of life wherein we find ourselves. If you are a religious, learn to attain quiet in prayer ; if a married man, keep the laws of matrimony ; if a friar, practise withdrawal - I mean, within yourself. It is this that we must understand by the exhortation to self-examination given to us, in this passage, by Saint Paul. That is to say, we must examine the depths of our consciences, and the readier, purer and more eager we find ourselves, the greater will be the confidence and happiness wherewith we shall approach the Most Holy Sacrament.
Now we cannot perfectly achieve this ready preparation and this examination of ourselves unless, as has been said, we endeavour to realize what small esteem of ourselves we should have, and to pursue the imitation of Christ, and meditate upon Him, since it is in that way that you will enter into a clear knowledge of the inaccessible God. And true and perfect humility is not attained save by true and perfect contemplation. In your consideration you strive to know yourselves and begin to practise humility ; and, as you meditate on the mysteries of Christ and completely despise (the world), humility grows and becomes the more active in you ; but in quiet contemplation of the inaccessible Divinity, the more you persevere, the greater is the illumination which comes to your soul and the greater your growth in living knowledge, the which living knowledge of Immensity Uncreate causes you to esteem yourself as nothing until you come into His presence. And the more quickly you pass from the beginnings of your spiritual life to meditation on Christ our Redeemer, and imitation of Him, and the more readily and perseveringly you journey towards your goal, the more quickly and readily you will attain this perfect humility. In this way the man must examine himself who is eager for God, and yearns to serve Him, and love Him, and receive Him through the strength of love alone and without any thought of his own consolation. And after such examination, counsels the Apostle, any person may come to receive this Bread of angels. May God protect us all. Amen.

CHAPTER 34 - Describes a Passage of Scripture wherein is figured our Preparation In the twenty-ninth chapter of the first book of the Chronicles it is written that the glorious king David, making himself ready to perform a certain work for the service of his God and our Lord, pronounced these words : 'Certainly this work is admirable, since the mansion is being prepared for God alone, and not for man.' This work and its preparation correspond closely to the disposition or preparation of these hearts of ours to receive the sacred Communion, so that every righteous soul which is ready and prepared for it is made a temple of God, such as is represented by the house of the Lord which David was preparing, or the temple of our God made by King Solomon. When the holy David says there, with deepest humility, that in this work the mansion is being prepared for God and not for man, this should not fail to awaken in men the humility necessary to prepare the living temple of God - which temple is our souls - for the sacred Communion and to remind them how the Guest Who is to make His abode in this temple is God. But, so that on our own part we may do what we can, the passage continues : 'But I with all my might shall prepare all expenses that are necessary for the work of this house of my God and Lord.' These expenses which David says he will prepare with all his might we may understand as things that cost the inclinations of sense very dear, and these a man has to prepare all his life long, putting aside sensual concupiscence and every inclination contrary to reason and all things that will impede his work.
Note further that the passage goes on to describe how David, moved by the ardent charity which enkindled him inwardly, spoke to the people with deep fervour, saying : 'If any man desires of his own free will to offer anything to the Lord, let him fill his hand to-day and offer that which he pleaseth.' Which is as if he had said, more clearly and distinctly : 'He who is moved by the love of God, and, without considering his own interests, desires to offer himself as a peaceful sacrifice to our Most High God in sacred communion, let him fill his hands - that is, bring his works - to-day, and offer all that he will, knowing that the object of all preparation before celebrating or communicating is the pure and naked love of God.' The passage says 'to-day', so that we may understand that this day of sacred communion - that is to say, the occasions when you celebrate or communicate - is the time above all others for presenting to Our Lord all that whereof His people has need, and also because it is the time of love, the time most apt for attaining it. Further, in order to show us that with charity in our innermost souls we must desire and endeavour that all may seek God, the holy King and Prophet invites every one of us to come and offer all that he can and to come with full hands - that is, with works full of charity.
The passage continues : 'The heads of the families...' gave for the works of the house of the Lord so many thousand talents of gold and so many thousand of silver. And the writer says that that offer was made by the most powerful and important men of the people, by which we may understand that the faculties of the soul, and its concupiscence, and natural reason, are sacrificed to God with the gold of strength and of living and resplendent charity, and with the silver of living example and resplendent works and profitable words, and of pure chastity and of a clean heart. The passage also says that they offered a great quantity of brass and of iron, the brass signifiying to us the sound of the vain presumption of our lack of humility, and the iron, the coldness and hardness of our human heart. In saying that these metals were offered in a very great quantity, the writer shows how ready we must be to despise and reject all the hardness and vanity and esteem for worldly honour in these metals that the powerful men offered ; and, in truth, there are no men more powerful that those who despise all which leads them not to God so that they may quickly reach Him.
The passage then says : 'All the people rejoiced because of the offering which they had promised willingly to God, wherein they offered all that they were able.' This aims at showing us that the purer and readier and freer from all self-seeking is our conscience, offering and occupying itself in the service and love of its God, the happier and the more joyful it is, and the greater is its consolation. The passage goes on : 'King David rejoiced with great joy' to see that all his people, with one will, made such an offer to God. Here it likens to David the heart enkindled in charity, such a heart being like to a king in the free dominion which it has over all that God created. This heart experiences perfect joy when all the inward and outward parts of these rational men are employed in every time and place in doing the will of our God and Lord. May He ever be our protection. 

CHAPTER 35 - Of the Ineffable Blessings which we have in Our God in this Most High Sacrament, and of the Grace of the Soul that faithfully receive Him
Concerning this most lofty matter we may quote here, from the Horologe of Eternal Wisdom, a dialogue between Wisdom and the soul that receives the Most Holy Sacrament, which is most worthy of note.
SOUL : What is it, Lord, that Thou givest with Thine ineffable presence to the souls that devoutly receive Thee in the Sacrament of the Altar?
WISDOM : I pray thee, tell me whence proceeds this thy question. Art thou peradventure a true lover or a mercenary? Dost thou think this question of thine a seemly one? He that loves with a loving heart, and has what he loves, cares little for aught else. When one who truly desires to approach his Beloved possesses Him, then he passes lightly over all other blessings, how profitable soever they be. Tell Me: Dost thou seek thy Beloved because thou lovest Him or to the end that He may pay thee for thy love? What better or more profitable thing can He give thee than Himself? Tell me: What thing can he who has this gift need or desire? What can He deny to His lover Who gave Himself to him wholly? See, says Eternal Wisdom, how in this Sacrament I have given Myself to thee and how I convert thee into Myself. But, as thou art not perfect in love, thou contentest not thyself with the Beloved and therefore desirest other favours or rewards in the form of spiritual sweetness or sensible consolations. But tell Me : What is it that the sun's ray gives to the air when with all its power and with no cloud as an impediment it penetrates it and makes it shine in splendour at the hour of noonday? Or what is it that the resplendent stars or the bright star of the earth by the serene summer when the earth is dried up and shrunken with the frost of winter?
SOUL : There is no doubt but that each of these things will bear with it very much fruit and great beauty.
WISDOM : Great though these things seem to be, the spiritual gifts that are given in this Holy Sacrament are, without any comparison, far greater, for the least of the graces merited by him who devoutly receives the Most Holy Sacrament illumines the spirit in the world to come more than the sun's ray can illumine the pure air.
These things can be understood only in the inmost being of those who receive the Sacrament with true preparation, according to their ability, and only at those times when Divine condescension so wills. And of a certainty grace so received in this exile will be the beginning of greater illumination in the world to come than if all the brightest constellations in the heavens were brought near to the earth and illumined it with all their virtue and brightness. If it be faithfully kept, it will give the soul greater brightness and spiritual beauty in the world to come than ever rain or dew can give to the earth, and therewith it may engender all things that are wont to beautify it. And if you would understand these things more surely, consider the qualities of the Most Holy Sacrament, for without any doubt the ray of the Divinity hidden in the Holy Sacrament, but clear and manifest in the heavenly country, gives a more excellent brightness to the soul than can this visible sun to the entire sphere of the air. Oh, what the glory and the ineffable charity will be when the soul, raised high above itself, is transformed and united, through the strength of pure love, with its inaccessible God, where love itself recognises the Divinity in the Most Hight Sacrament and is wholly infused in Infinite Love like a drop of water in the sea!
Now the glorified Body received in the Most High Sacrament gives the soul that communicates readily and righteously more and greater beauty than the course of the stars and the variation of the seasons can produce in the earth. The most holy soul, truly united with the Divine Word in the Holy Sacrament, will have more beauty, enlightenment and happiness in the world to come, than all the stars, and the day-stars of the morning, give to the land of this our exile. And in the world to come all these things will be given to every faithful soul for each time that it has received the Divine Sacrament. So greatly, and in such a way, do these blessings increase, to say nothing of countless other virtues and graces, that it will be impossible for any created understanding to number them.
SOUL : Oh, my God, since Thou hast been pleased to adorn the Most Holy Sacrament with such innumerable marvels and such spiritual effects, not only in the world to come but also in this present world, I beg Thee, of Thine infinite goodness, to tell me why these Divine blessings are hidden from us so that they cannot be comprehended or attained. Well do I know, O our ineffable Lord, that the souls that love Thee and that receive Thee with fervour and due preparation embrace Thee and enjoy Thy presence in the strength of love alone, wherein Thou dost manifest that which is hidden from me. But why, our God, are not all these blessings made manifest to men?
WISDOM : Perchance thou hast forgotten that thou walkest by faith and not by experience. Knowest thou not that that which sense teaches and experience approves cannot possibly bring any merit to faith?
Were any place to be given experience it is certain that faith would fail, and therefore the merit of faith would be lost if the thing could be apprehended as thou sayest. Wherefore, if thou desirest to know by experience these sublimest mysteries, thou must renounce faith and forgo its merits, whereupon thou wouldst become unfit to be counted among those that receive the Most Holy Sacrament. Seest thou how Infinite Wisdom hath ordained this for thy far greater profit? When, therefore, thou hast no inward consciousness of these Divine effects, and thy understanding fails thee, let each elect soul know that faith alone suffices for the possession of all things. And may Christ Jesus ever be our protection.

CHAPTER 36 - With the Eyes of Faith the Soul sees my God in the Living Host and His Grace alone is Meet Preparation
SOUL : What will befall if against his will there come to any one of the elect unclean or unlawful thoughts, though he be not consenting to them?
WISDOM : Of a certainty if he strive lawfully he will be crowned. I ask thee to open the book of thy heart and see how by feelings of greater sweetness alone a knowledge of the highest mystery of this Holy Sacrament is granted to the hearts of certain of the elect, in whom, by grace and special privilege, the soul, after that most holy reception, is permitted to have a knowledge so clear, though hidden within itself, that no human science nor any sense can have a sure comprehension of aught created such as is given to this soul by the ineffable authority of grace received in Holy Communion. These things must ever be understood by no ordinary means of instruction, for this experimental knowledge hidden in the soul transcends all reason and human understanding, since this is a delectable science and mystical theology, revealed by the Holy Spirit within the innermost being of the purest heart ; and even to those hearts it is revealed but sometimes, and not always, which is a provision made by God through His infinite goodness, so that souls which have been enlarged by that dignity may humble themselves inwardly when they have it not, and so that this humility may make them the more disposed to receive once again that which they lacked. This being so, understand that this Holy Sacrament and its most sublime effects cannot be comprehended by any sense or human reason, for it is certain that the Divine Presence Which is in the Sacrament can be seen only with the eyes of faith, and the soul recognises it when, by Divine clemency, that Divine light removes the darkness of human understanding.
SOUL : Oh, how few there are in this world who with ready solicitude attain the precious benefit which is given to the righteous soul in Holy Communion - especially the priest, whose office is to stand always near his God! But, alas, O Sweetness of the inmost being that feeds on Thy love, that there should be some who go to celebrate only because of common custom, without meet and lively preparation, never thinking how much is gained by the pure conscience that receives Thee without being cleansed, according to the saying of Saint Paul, namely : 'He that communicateth unworthily receiveth judgement for hell everlasting' Who in this world has so pure a conscience that he can suitably or fittingly minister or receive by virtue of his purity so as to be able justly to partake this Most High Sacrament? Oh, our God, who will dare to be presumptuous concerning himself and his preparation where Saint Peter, Prince of the Apostles, said to my Christ Jesus : 'Lord depart from me, for I am a sinful man'?
WISDOM : Among those born of woman there has been more who by his virtue alone can prepare himself sufficiently for so high a dignity, for, even if a man could have the purity of angels, and he cleansed even as those who are already in glory, and have won the merits of those who live on the heights of all perfection, even all this would not suffice for them to receive Holy Communion by virtue of their works alone.
SOUL : Oh, our external and ineffable Lord, how terrible a thing is it for me and for those like me to hear Thee speak thus! O love of all that love Thee, how can a man such as I prepare himself if men perfect in their works do not merit receiving Thee! And if the heavens cannot stand in Thy eternal presence, what can be said of us, miserable lukewarm creatures, who are at once so impure and so ill prepared?
WISDOM : All ye who are sinners have one thing of very great sublimity, which should comfort you and take from you all doubt and affliction, and invite you to approach the Holy Communion times without number. And that is that this Most High Sacrament was instituted by Infinite Mercy for the help of all that are living, and that without it they could have no help at all. Therefore, whensoever a man does that which in him lies to obtain the grace that is received by a soul in grace, it suffices that such a one should desire to approach God. For God demands not the impossible of man ; rather does Divine Mercy supply that without which naught is possible. Therefore, when two men have consciences in the same state - that is, when both are in grace and have prepared themselves as well as they can - and one of them goes forward in the strength of Divine Goodness and trusting in His grace, that man will celebrate or communicate much more fitly that another who lives in withdrawal and retirement (from the Altar) and celebrates but seldom, or comes very rarely to communicate because of his natural weakness and scant preparation. Nevertheless, there are times when any man may be praised for his piety of intention. But I must exhort you again that ye who are sick, if ye rule your lives well, must go times without number to the Physician, and that ye who are poor should humbly approach the door of Him who is merciful and rich, knowing that by His presence your wounds will be healed, you sadness taken from you and your coldness of heart melted. If any man waits (to communicate) until the morrow, so that he may be the better prepared, and, though he have a good conscience, approaches not the Altar to-day, he will find on the morrow that for the most part he is weaker that he was before.
Who, then, will be so ill-advised as to dare to hinder one that is spiritually sick from approaching this our God, Who is an ocean of help and an abyss of love? In confirmation hereof consider that unclean woman who approached the Lord and was healed by touching Him ; and look upon the Magdalen, sitting at the feet of this gentlest Physician, cleansed by Him and made pure ; and likewise the woman of Canaan, who followed Him and was succoured ; and also the ten lepers, who approached Him and were made whole. All the monstrous preversions of Nature found a remedy in Him, The sacred Gospel says that such virtue went out of Him that He healed all. For He Who came to call sinners and wills that they shall be made righteous did not despise the invitation of Zacchaecus, nor of Simon the leper, nor of many more such. And, just as His wondrous incarnation was the salvation of sinners who would rejoice in Him, so this salvation-giving  Host is given to all the faithful for the healing of any infirmity which they desire to have cured. For, of a surety, the Wisdom of God in the instituting of this Holy Sacrament has said to you : 'This is My Body, Which will be brought to death for you.' Wherefore if a man, to prepare himself, does what in him lies, he can safely approach the Altar, doubting nothing, and have faith and charity ; which may God give to us all and may He ever be our protection. Amen.

CHAPTER 37 - That Frequent Communion in Grace is a Great Preparation, and what is meant by the Delectableness experienced by Souls in their Devotion SOUL : Oh, loving Sweetness of all who come to Thee, who could be sufficient to give thanks for so wondrous a blessing as this, that a sinner such as I, knowing full well my wrongdoing, should dare to approach and to receive within my heart the Lord of Eternal Majesty and to find in Him such graciousness that with infinite love He may set within me a created love wherewith He may change me into Himself!
WISDOM : This holy and ineffable Sacrament, which through Infinite Love has remained with men, is wholly for their succour. And, since it is the Divine will that whensoever the faithful servant receives it he shall be succoured, he knows that the reception thereof increases devotion and reverence in him whensoever he prepares himself to thank God for His great goodness in permitting Himself to be received for human advantage.
SOUL : Oh, my Lord, when I am conscious of aridity through lack of devotion or through circumstances which it is not in the power of man always to change, it is better that I abstain from celebrating or that I approach the Altar notwithstanding?
WISDOM : Whensoever he that desireth to receive the ineffable Sacrament finds that there is no sensible cause for such aridities, and does what in him lies to prepare himself for this highest of mysteries, and yet, by Divine permission, is conscious of this aridity, wherewith, in a thousand ways, the inaccessible God is wont to prove His elect, that they may be builded up in a deeper humility and may understand why they feel the loneliness which comes from lack of devotion, and may fly to God for succour, and fear lest He take His hand from them, and, when they preserve devotion, if it return to them, with more living charity and deeper humility, and grow in fervour, then, both in Holy Communion and in sure and perfect contemplation, Divine Goodness often permits devotion to be lacking ; and, provided the soul's fervour and solicitude fail not, its gain always increases. The reply, then, to that which thou hast asked is that such aridity or lack of devotion is no reason why one who has a clean conscience and is full of faith should abstain from celebrating, for faith is the true strength which with living charity certifies the soul of the favours which in the Holy Sacrament the soul that keeps itself in great purity receives from Infinite Goodness. There is one notable thing which should be heeded by all who draw near to celebrate and by all contemplatives in the Church of God ; and that is that this spiritual savour or pleasure in devotion which souls feel and recognize in themselves when they approach the Most Holy Sacrament, or do any good thing, is not an effect of faith, nor has it any relation to the present time, but is a kind of first-fruits which God of His great mercy gives to souls in this life to the end that they may strive ever more and more to attain happiness, wherein is wholly perfected their delectable consolation, which feeds the heart as delicately as the tiny beak of the sparrow-hawk feeds its young.
It must be observed here that, if the soul is well trained in the faith, it can easily support itself without eating of these delicate fruits which Divine Mercy gives as food to souls for their consolation. He is wont to give more food to tenderer souls, so that those which are more virile may realize that, when this fails them, they can do without it and yet profit, provided they have purity of conscience and are in active conformity with the will of God, as He wills. When, therefore, thou findest that thou has devotion, give hearty thanks to God and be content, and, when thou findest thyself without it, offer the same thanks and be content likewise. And, whether with devotion or without it, cease on from celebrating, if thy conscience is pure, doing what in thee lies, for thou must know that that infinite blessing is so fruitful that, the more it is received, the worthier is he that worthily receives it of receiving it further. May His Goodness receive us and may He be our protector.

CHAPTER 38 - Of the Difference in Love between those who Communicate Verily and Indeed and those who do so only after a Spiritual Manner
SOUL : I desire to know if he who communicates in very deed, and receives the living Host within his breast, acquires more grace than he who receives it only spiritually, with living affection; for there are many who have lively desires to communicate often, but lack the opportunity, and of such it is written that they are communicating because they believe.
WISDOM : He who communicates in very deed receives the sublimest effects of the Most Holy Sacrament much more properly, and readily, and actively, and truly, because, as regards charity, hope and faith, he has all that the other has, and in addition to this he receives within himself, in very deed, that ineffable gift, and the Giver with it. But the other, who lacks not affection, yet cannot attain that which his soul desires, and is the equal of the first in goodness, and, as regards the faith, hope and living charity wherewith his soul is prepared, wins great merit for each spiritual Communion that he desires and attains not, because Divine Goodness looks upon his affection and fervour, and, if we can do no more, He supplies all that we lack.
SOUL : Oh, our God, what kind of thanks can a poor soul such as I worthily give to such Ineffable Greatnesss? And how can this poor soul prepare himself worthily to receive the ineffable Sacrament, who belongs to Thy infinite love? Of a truth, our Lord, that which I can do is to say with Solomon the wise, in the second chapter of the second book of the Chronicles : 'Truly great is the Lord our God above all gods. Who, then, will be able to build Him a worthy house? If the heavens of heavens cannot contain Him,' said that wise King, 'who am I, that I may build a house for so great a Lord?' But what comes next in this Scripture? 'To this end only is it my intent to build Him this house, that incense may be offered to Him therein.' Even so say I, my God; it is in order that this poor wretched soul may offer incense of sweet savour to Thy boundless goodness - that is to say, a sacrifice of praise : it is to this end, and for Thy glory, and because Thou wilt have it so that I will do what I may, always with Thine aid, to prepare this poor, miserable house for the worthy reception of the inffable Sacrament of infinite charity, in memory and reverence of Thy most sacred Passion, as Thou our God dost lovingly exhort. For this Most High Sacrament is a memorial in little of all the wonders which from that time Thou hast worked on these our souls, giving them sustenance which which will support them till they attain to everlasting life with Thyself, even as Thou, our most loving God, livest in the Eternal Father Who sent Thee and Who in Himself is Life eternal ; and, as Thou dost tell us in the sixth chapter of Saint John, he who faithfully receives Thee has life eternal in Thee. Of Thy goodness, be ever our protection.

CHAPTER 39 - Sets down a Prayer preparatory to Holy Communion, for more Abundant in Meaning than in Words
O ineffable Sacrament, Fount of pure goodness, Good in Thyself alone and the Good of all who love Thee, Succour of my orphaned state, Sustainer of the heavens, Ruler of the sea, Upholder of the earth, Brazier of living love, Eternal and substantive Word, no part of speech but Thyself Perfect Speech! O living Bread of angels, Upholder of the faithful, who without Thee would perish! O Wisdom of God, Who canst not be contained by the heavens and yet coverest and hidest Thyself with so slender a veil that only living faith can discern Thee by discerning itself in Thee! O Power, that canst give power to all who are capable of doing aught, and canst dissimulate Thyself so that all can come to Thee who reflect on the measureless goodness whereby Thou drivest none away but lovest all! O living, infinite Good! Thy fugitive slave desires to return to Thy Divine presence. May it please Thee to receive him, for, if Thou drive him away, he cannot fail to perish, for he can do naught without fellowship with Thee, Who art so full of truth. O most gracious love! O living Bread of angels! O Wisdom of God! Thy poor, wretched servant, so unworthy of Thee Who knowest him and canst succour him, would fain be melted. Now approaches the heat of the seraphic Brazier : may it please Thee to communicate to him some living spark, such as it is possible for so insignificant a creature to receive. May it enkindle his inmost parts and burn up his heart, that he may be able to know that which it is possible for a man to know, and employ it in love of Thee, without desiring any of Thy creatures, but only Thee, since all that is not Thyself leaves him still in want. May Thy clemency accept me without remembering who I am, and give me the knowledge that Thou art wont to give to Thine own. Then shall I know myself, and despise what is mine, and then shall men know that all that is good in me comes only from Thee, and give the honour to Thee alone, despising me without offending Thee. It is this that Thy servant would desire to attain, and for this he comes to Thee, for it is Thy will that he should come to eat at Thy table and of Thy living Bread, which is wholly Thine and yet in part for me : I cannot let go of Thy table, nor wilt Thou consent that I shall do so lest Thy servant perish. This I beg in Thy name and in the most gracious name of my sweetest Christ, the most clement Jesus ; and to this end I call in Thy presence upon the Universal Queen, alone and forever purest Virgin and Mother, and upon the Church militant, and upon the Court of heaven, that among many favours I may be granted that of losing servile fear and gaining filial love, possessed of a surety by those who hold converse secretly - I mean within themselves - with Thee. May Thy protection be with us, through the infinite goodness which has made Thee remain with us, living God, in the living Host, which is our sustenance and our good, our love, our protection and our God.

CHAPTER 40 - And Explanation of the Verses of Love set down in the Twenty-First Chapter of this Third Part in the First Impression of this Book, for which Explanation I have oftentimes been asked in the Name of Jesus

1. He who labours with love - gains profit by taking his ease.
2. If he would for ever take his ease - let him never cease striving to gain.
3. The taste of true love - finds savour in everything.
4. He who is indeed enamoured - never finds a river without a ford.
5. Whatever he meets, he plans - and thus nothing embarrasses him.
6. Love goes where it wills - and none prevents it.
7. Love, if we give ourselves up to it - puts an end to all evils.
8. If one cease to give oneself up to it - it has to take another name.
9. Love, if it lasts long - finds security in itself alone.
10. And it can find no security - save in a single place.
11. It is like a meek lamb - and its rest is in God alone.
12. In the boundless secret - alone is its true object.
13. He that is most enamoured - is most heedless of himself.
14. The most quiet meekness - is most perfect in love.
15. And it is a very great sign of love - to suffer fervently.
16. He who ceases not to desire - cannot cease loving.
17. Affection, with desire - gives indulgence and jubilation.
18. And a very great sign of love - is leanness and rigour.
19. The enamoured soul - is ever needy.
20. When we think most on a thing - it is a sign that we most love it.
21. Where the thought is squarely set - love is most surely founded.
22. And if memory is surely founded - it is a sign of the greatest victory.
23. And where it is most stable - there love is most lasting.
24. Never will love attain its goal - without the wings of cherubim.

VERSE I
He who labours with love
Gains profit by taking his ease.

Love has this property, that it takes away the name and the effect of labour, for that which gives the enamoured soul the greatest, most certain, real and ready satisfaction is to endure difficulties for love of its Beloved. So it is a very great help to the soul to begin today any exercise which is has to do tomorrow ; for when a part of it is done the soul can rest, and likewise take inspiration for that which it still has to do. And it is more profitable for the soul that it should rest and refresh itself by labouring than by ceasing to labour through being neglectful. Wherefore, the soul well says that he who labours lovingly, and for love's sake, takes his ease, to his greater profit, than he that has no love and neglects to practise virtue.

VERSE II
If he would for ever take his ease
Let him never cease striving to gain.

The most sublime gains in this our mortal life consist or reside in exercises of virtue performed lovingly and for the love of God alone. As has been said, love takes away from labour both its effect and its title ; and, when these have been taken away, what would else be labour - that is, without love - is so no longer. So let not the soul that is eager to grow continually and to acquire great merits cease in its solicitude to feed upon love as much as it may. In eating and sleeping, and in the other recreations of these miserable bodies, we should always have a loving intention of doing these things so that they may give the better service ; and if we do this we shall win more merit ( by those simple acts) that we could attain, without this loving impulsion, by very lengthy exercises, however much these may tend to goodness. And, since labour of love is a form of rest which is greatly to be esteemed, it is he who has most love and refrains least from acting virtuously till he attain love that will achieve the truest rest.

VERSE III
The taste of true love
Find savour in everything.

There is only one love which is true love in the sense of this verse, and of this Saint Dionysius says in the book of the Divine Names : 'ONe of the Divine names by which God is called is Love.' And, just as the savour of material things is apprehended by the physical sense of taste, so with the eagerness of its inmost being does the soul taste the sweetest of savours, which, once tasted, cause things that were bitter to have a sweet savour. Concerning this taste, our Father Saint Francis says that things once bitter were turned for him into sweetness of sol and body. So those of us who have little experience of this taste must learn to understand by means of words that which those who are practised understand by experience ; and these latter can verify that the soul which tastes the sweetness of love by means of mystical theology finds no lack of savour in any unpleasant thing whatsoever that the world can offer it. This taste is of such sweetness that no words can explain it. The loving David tells us that, in order to experience it, we must contrive to taste it so that we may see how gracious is the love of our God. This he exhorts us with the graciousness of words in the thirty-third Psalm, where we learn that this can be understood only by the soul who has tasted it. By true love, then, is meant the love of our God, and he who tastes this loses all distaste (which he might otherwise have) for any disappointment, loss of favour and adversity which the world can offer. So he finds savour in everything.

VERSE IV
He who is indeed enamoured
Never finds a river without a ford.

Love, if it be true love, finds naught difficult ; indeed, it can do things that without love would be impossible, passing without difficulty through the sea and through the waters, as though it were being guided by Him of Whom the seventy-sixth Psalm says : 'In the sea are Thy ways, and Thy paths among many waters,' Which is as though, speaking with Christ Jesus, he had said to Him more clearly : 'The whole course of the way of Thy sacred life, O our most loving Love, must be through the most tempestuous sea of adversities, and all Thy works must be a stone of offense and must pass through the waters of much tribulation.' But even as the ineffable love wich Christ Jesus had for us sent Him, without sparing Him aught (anything), through all these waters, as by a common ford, even so lovers who follow that true love never enter a place so narrow that they cannot pass through it quite freely. Nor do they meet with waters so deep that they cannot ford them, even though the waters be so numerous and so deep that they can say : 'The waters have come in eve to the innermost part of my soul.' For such souls beg help of God and make bold to pass through them. And thus any tempest is to them the easiest of fords, and they can pass very freely both in going out and in coming in, saying :

VERSE V
Whatever he meets, he plans,
And thus nothing embarrasses him.

There are two ways wherein we can plan a thing. We consider the manner wherein we do, or say, or think anything which we have in our mind, or along what lines, or with what intention, or towards what end. It is of great advantage to plan after this manner, and, if we do so, nothing will stand in the way of our profiting by it. The verse says 'Whatever he meets' - that is, whatever he thinks, or does, or says. And this that he meets 'he plans, and thus nothing embarrasses him'. For if, as he makes the plan, he sees any impediment, he refrains from doing as he had intended, since otherwise it might now or afterwards prove an inconvenience.

There is a second way wherein (which) we say we are planning a thing, and that is when we know that the thing suits not our purpose, and thereupon we root it out once and for all, and sever it from our intention, as we desire it to be severed from our action. And in that way the thing that we have planned, or rooted out, cannot embarrass our course, freed as it is for the purpose of our intention. And if we plan not our affairs after this manner, we shall necessarily often be hindered at the point where for this reason we stopped, because we did not plan it in time and with a vigorous resolve. It goes on to say :

VERSE VI
Love goes where it wills
And none prevents it.

Our inaccessible God is unfailing love, because His love is infinite ; and thus He is the proper object of the amative virtue of the rational soul, the which amative virtue resides in the will, for, to a greater exent than the other faculties - that is to say, than the memory and the understanding - it has freedom to draw after it, or to pass beyond, and transcend, all created things, and to leave them behind as though they were not. So, when the soul enters within itself, it employs itself in God alone, because He is the proper object of the soul,  as has been said. Now, since God our Lord is within all things, and all that He created is clear and open to His sight, my God knows me better that I know myself. And therefore, whensoever the enamoured soul enters within itself, it will find itself, immediately upon its entry, with its God, and there is no prosperity or adversity that can disturb it when it is employing itself in loving that Infinite Love Who to tis is infinitely loving. As He is Love Uncreated He is more completely within all that He created that the created things can be in themselves, and equally He is without all those same things within which He truly is. We can we understand that, if we wish to seek our most loving God within ourselves, we have great freedom which will enable us to do so, and if, being His creatures, we wish to love Him, we have complete freedom likewise to do that. And, if we wish to love Him in greater perfection, in Himself, by setting aside all that He created, forgetting our very selves, and occupying ourselves in Him alone, this is certainly a thing natural to us, assuming that we can endure ths outward proverty.

It is to be concluded that our will has such great liberty that, as regards created things, there is none who can prevent it from passing through them as often as it pleases, and not stopping until it reaches our boundless Uncreated Love. And, when created love goes to its Uncreated Love, so that the love which God creates in souls finds its true and natural satisfaction, He gives the soul everything that will satisfy it and that He holds to be for its good. And as the soul is borne whithersoever it goes by Infinite Love, which none can resist, you must deduce that created love goes whither Uncreated Love makes it go and wills that which He wills. And thus there is naught (none) that can be in conflict with the perfect fulfilment of Him Who lovingly wills all that God wills. So that love - that is to say, enamoured love - goes whither it wills, because its will is the will of Him in Whose will there has never been any conflict.

VERSE VII
Love, if we give ourselves up to it,
Puts an end to all evils.

We give ourselves up to a thing when we occupy ourselves in the execution of its work for so long as its worth requires. And as the worthiest and most meritorious of all the things that God created in pure creatures is the amative virtue of the ready will of the soul enamoured with true love of Him, it will be necessary, if we are to give ourselves up to it, as it merits, for all our time to be devoted to it, and for us to take every opportunity, wherever we be, to exercise ourselves in it well.

This love, the verse goes on, 'puts an end to all evils'. For, as the coming of light puts an end, or limit, or term, to darkness, even so all the difficulties of our lives and our temporal fears, and everything that can offer itself to the soul that has fed freely on love, all these, and all other things imaginable, cease to be called evils, for all convert themselves into good to the soul that can say with the most holy Job, in the second chapter of that book : 'If we take good gladly from the hand of the Lord, why can we not suffer evil?' This shows you that all afflictions that can be called evil by those who, for lack of love, know them not as good, must of necessity seem good to the enamoured soul ; for so well nutured are such souls in the consolations of love that they cannot feel any untoward circumstance which might be called evil to be in any way a grievance.

Let it be set down and understood, then, that, when the soul has fed freely upon love, the better the soul assimulates that food, the more it takes away the displeasure caused by any untoward circumstance, to such an extend that, if we give ourselves up to it - I mean, if we frequent and dwell upon this consolation of love for a long time and with fervent perseverence, it permits nothing to be difficult to him that loves in truth and is devoid of self-interest. And then all difficulties, and any trials soever that can be called evils, are ended and done away with, for the person to whom they happen accounts them not of the slightest worth ; indeed, he receives them with pleasure, since he hs for so long and so constantly  experienced the consolation of the most fervent love, which, because he has so well practised it, has put an end and term to all trials  and evils. So that, where love is, no trial is a trial at all. Concerning this we read in the forty-first chapter of Genesis that when Manasseh, the firstborn of the patriarch Joseph, was born to him, so greatly was love enkindled within Him, and so great was his joy in him, that he spake (spoke) as follows : 'My God hath (has) made me to forget all my trials.' This glorious patriarch had suffered very great difficulties with great perseverance and great enkindling of love, and he had learned to know love, and love has learned to know him likewise ; in such a way that his difficulties were all brought to an end, and he became a figure of love, and devout souls came to know that of a truth all his trials were ended, because of his love.

VERSE VIII
IF one ceases to give oneself up to it,
If has to take another name.

The profit of any skilled craftman depends entirely upon the intimate knowledge which he has of his office or trade. And the profit and happiness of any contemplative consists in the frequent pursuit of love and in the seeing to it that the soul's exercise in it, and converse with it, is continuous, for it is written of love that it works great things. For it is said that, if its operation ceases or if the soul insufficiently esteems the value of that operation, it is not love, for it lacks what love cannot possibly lack if it does not itself weaken in the soul. We conclude, then, that, whatsoever may befall, love ceases not its operation ; and, if aught (anything) occurs which impedes its operation, it cannot be called love. For, as the will of these souls is free at all times and in every place, there is naught that can impede it if it desires to go to its God. And since, if it be prevented, this can only be because it consents to such impediment, it is properly punished for this consent by losing its title to the sublimity of its proper function, which is to love continually. Nor is there any difficulty so great that, if there be love, it cannot overcome it without noticing or knowing any impediment which there may be in its passage. So love continues to be called love for so long as it continues in its operations.

VERSE IX
Love, if it last long,
Finds security in itself alone.

The loving and secure servant is one who has no irrational fear of aught (anything) that can present itself to him by way of adversity. It was with this most quiet tranquillity, and without adversity in the shape of any untoward fear, that that prophet desired to serve God when he prayed thus to Him : 'To the end that we may serve Thee, our Lord, in security and tranquil quietness, set us free from all occasions whatsoever of fear of our enemies' - that is to say, of the devil, the flesh, and the world. So that, to the end that our souls may have security - that is, be free from all unquiet - in contemplation, it is necessary that the love which is in them cast out fear and occupy all the room in the heart that fear was wont (usual) to occupy before it had fed so freely upon love. And in order that he lover may attain to love of the Beloved in perfection and security and quiet, it behoves such a love to be faithful and persevering and to last to the end of a person's life, and this is what is meant by the phrase 'Love, if it lasts long...' The verse continues : 'Finds security in itself alone.' It is of the continuance of love that there is born this habit of disregarding difficulties, and from this continuance is born a familiarity between lover and Beloved. Herein, as practised souls know, there is a two-fold security ; on the one hand, the lover loves with all quiet, and, on the other, he loves with such confidence that he is able to realize that that love which, by God's great goodness, has remained in his soul, has taken from him all servile fear - that is, the fear of a slave - and has made him so secure that he occupies himself in a love which is almost unassailed by adversity. So that his love, which has lasted long, has brough about security, because, if he who loves remains faithful, there is none of whom he can be afraid. If love, then, lasts long, it finds security in itself alone.

VERSE X
And it can find no security
Save in a single place.

There is only one Uncreated Love, in which all created love ends. In order that this may be the better understood, we may put it thus : God is Infinite Love and infinitely lovable is His infinite goodness, and we must love Him more than all the things that He has created. And because love is an act of the will, and the will cannot find satisfaction save in Infinite Goodness, the soul can never find quiet save in one single place, far removed from all created things. Love itself, it may be assumed, occupies no place, but the verse says that there is one single place wherein it finds security, (using the language of one) who for greater facility seeks to reveal the invisible world of the mind to material men by material ways and manners of speech. Love, then, can find contentment or security in naught save God ; and, if it be true love, attained by frequent and persevering quiet contemplation, it readily finds security and attains tranquility by uplifting itself to its most loving God, without Whom, as has been said, it can find no security at all.

VERSE XI
It is like a meek lamb
And its rest is in God alone.

In is not meant here that love is like a lamb in outward form, but that the meekness and the joyousness of the lamb to some extent represent the quality of love. If the meekness of the lamb had not typified love, the prophet Isaiah would not have said, in his fifty-third chapter, where he is speaking of our loving Christ, that like a lamb in the hands of its shearer He opened not His mouth to complain of His tormenters. Again, if the joyousness of the lamb had not symbolized for us the operation without stain, and without guile, and without sadness of love, whe should not read in the hundred and thirteenth Psalm, where the Psalmist refers to loving souls under the similitude of mountains, 'The mountains were joyous as rams and the hills rejoiced like the lambs (from the flocks) of sheep.' For the lambs, with all their meekness, rejoice and skip about on the ground and for brief moments seem to rise in the air ; and even so enamoured souls, in their meekness of love, rise in the air above the ground - that is, above all created things that are on earth ; and after some manner they are suspended in the air - that is, the Holy Spirit, with deep quietness and meekness, in the peacefulness of pure contemplation. Herein the enamoured soul is infused in love in such a way that it is appropriate to say that it has the meekness of a lamb.

'And its rest is in God alone.' For, as the Abyss and Centre of love, of Whom it comes that enamoured souls love Uncreated Love, is this same God Who creates love in souls, it is necessary that this love, wherewith these souls pray to that Abyss and Centre Who gives them love whereby the spirit is enamoured, should be purified in its intention in quiet and naked love ; so that, heedless of all that is not God, it rests not, save alone, when it has attained quiet in Him. Therefore says the verse that 'its rest is in God alone'.

VERSE XII
In the boundless secret
Alone is its true object.

By the object of any one of the bodily senses or of any faculty of the soul is meant that thing wherein it finds the fulfilment of its function and purpose. Thus we say that colour, or any other thing that we see, is an object of the sense of sight, because therein the operation of our eyes employs itself and finds its end. So, too, we shall say that that thing whereon we think with attention and concentration is the object of our understanding, and that in truth alone resides the perfection of its operation, since its perfect satisfaction is in truth alone. Thus we shall come to understand that the soul perfected in goodness is the object of amative virtue of the soul, which is the will. As God, then, is Infinite Good and infinitely to be loved, we shall say with great truth that God is the true and proper object of love.

And because God is boundless, incomprehensible and so secret that, since He is wholly and infinitely Centre, no creature knows Him as He is, we shall say that the perfection of the work of the enamoured will, which employs employs itself in pure and naked love, is occupied in complete perfection with God alone, Who is so boundless and so secret that He alone can suffice to understand Himself, and His creatures suffice to desire Him and love Him to the small extent that it is possible to achieve for such exceeding dignity. And, since perfect love never makes any conditions about loving, nor seeks out a time, nor choose its own place, the verse says that its object must be 'alone' - that is to say, that love, and naked love, alone, withdrawn from every operation, must employ itself in God alone, without making any condition. I mean that, as Saint Dionysius says in writing to Timothy, the operation of love must pay no respect either to created things or to uncreated things. By created things, he understands all that is not God, and by uncreated things he understands Uncreated Wisdom and Power and the distinction between the Divine Persons of the Most High Trinity. Not that other types of contemplation will fail to be very lofty and of exceeding great worth ; the verse means that there is greater perfection when love alone, and naked love, employs itself in the simplest manner in the Divine Substance, neither understanding nor knowing at the moment aught save loving in great solitude, satisfied that it loves without understanding love.

It may be said, then, that its object - that is to say, its operation - is purely and readily occupied in the boundless Secret which is the Divine Essence, without any condition, or distinction, or - for the time being - consideration of attributes or faculties. For this kind of pure contemplation cannot be understood by speech or writing, but only by experience ; and it is because this secret mode of loving is solely of the substance of the enamoured soul that Isaiah, in his twenty-fourth chapter, says : 'My secret is for myself.' Which is as though he were to say : I have no desire, nor ought I, to convey the height of the perfection in speech or in writing, but only to souls that understand these matters without the use of syllables or words, by very frequent experience, devoid of all human affection which can and should be excluded.

As we repeat the words of this verse, then, it may be understood that its meaning can be extended to a higher and more absolute perfection than any of these other verses, since the whole of its operation is devoted, in solitary detachment, to boundlessness and secrecy, withdrawn from all that is not God. And as the secret is said to be boundless, all that the previous verses can teach us of it are the conditions of love, according to the order wherein it grows in the soul until it attains the perfection of its growth, saying that in the boundlessness of this most secret Love Uncreated is rest for love created, etc. The next verses describe the signs whereby the lover may be known.

VERSE XIII

He that is most enamoured
Is most heedless of himself.

Speaking of puerile souls, who are terrified of shadows and dare not put forth their strength for fear lest they displease the outward man - that is to say, the pleasure loving senses - David says as follows : 'They had fear where there was no fear.' This means that fear of having to endure some controversy or deprivation or adversity makes us careful and solicitous to seek ways of complying with the demands of sense under colour of prudence. Thus, we seek not only that which can give us sustenance, but likewise ways wherein, together with such sustenance, we can find pleasure. Now, as love casts out fear from the enamoured soul, it follows that, the more some soul continues to grow in the love of its God, the more it casts out from itself not only fear of that which may fail to give it pleasure, but also anxiety about things without which nature cannot do. And this it has (so little) anxiety about its sustenance that it scarce thinks thereon, save at the times and hours when it needs to take it ; and even then it pays no heed to any special pleasure that this may bring it. As the Apostle says in the sixth chapter of the second epistle to Timothy : 'Having a modest sustenance and the wherewithal (means) to cover the body with complete decency, and that alone he is content', and pays no heed to aught beside. And this, as I have said, will be more and more so, in proportion as the soul feeds more upon love, so that it may know, and be able to say, that he who grows in love grows in heedlessness of himself and of his needs.

VERSE XIV
The most quiet meekness
Is most perfect in love.

From a phrase used in the infallible Gospel we know that the humblest and meekest souls are the most blessed, 'for of such is the kingdom of heaven.' For not only do these conquer evil with good but their humility reveals itself in all kinds of prosperity, for which they have no esteem, and their meekness shows itself more in adversities, which neither perturb (disturb) them nor change them. And, because the greatest perfection of love consists or resides in the most perfect contemplation, and this greatest perfection bring with it greater quiet and purer solitude in tranquil secrecy, it is to be understood that this most quiet and pure contemplation attains the greater perfection in love according as the meekness and quiet are more lasting. So that with the growth of these qualities - namely, quietness and meekness - love grows also, and, as love grows, these grow too. And thus it is a great truth that the most perfect love is that which is most quiet, and most ready, and most lasting in quiet contemplation. So that the most quiet contemplation is the most perfect in love, since it has most meekness, wherewith the soul puts forth its strength in love.

VERSE XV
And it is a very great sign of love
To suffer fervently.

We shall the better understand this verse and its meaning if we call to mind the fervour of the love of that woman who was so fervent a lover, who, seeking the most precious body of her Love, Christ Jesus, said : 'Sir, if thou hast taken Him, tell me where thou hast laid Him, and I will take Him away.' this blessed Magdalen suffered great grief and anguish when she found not the body that she so ardently loved, and she continued seeking that which she desired to find. And she brought to her task such great and ardent fervour that she considered not how difficult it would be for her to take the body and carry it in her arms, nor how heavy would be a body which she supposed to be dead, nor how feeble a woman's strength would be for carrying it, nor how the place was an uninhabitable one, nor what difficult hour (for her purpose) was that of daybreak. There was no impediment which could hinder the effects of the fervour wherewith she persevered finding great glory in that which she sought with exceeding great affection. So her affection and her fervour gave her energy and strength, and the effect produced by these manifestations of ardour revealed, with the greatest clarity, a love in her which so completely absorbed her that it transformed her wholly into itself.

We conclude, then, that naught is difficult to him who loves for love's sake alone. The greater the difficulties which the lover has to endure ; the greater the scorn which he meets, the loneliness, the reproofs ; the greater all his needs ; the more ceaseless his fervour and the more rigorous his life ; the more sternly he rejects consolations having naught to do with that which brings him near to God ; the more he raises his affective nature, which is the loving inclination of the enamoured soul ; the more patent in him become the signs of love. Without this love it is impossible for him to endure trials with a joyful and fervent will, and with love it is impossible not to endure them in this way if a man's love be true.

VERSE XVI
He who ceases not to desire
Cannot cease loving.

When souls have living desires to be united with their God by a bond of pure and naked love, the more they nuture themselves upon loving, the more they are impelled to continually desire. I said 'living desires' because many have dead desires which they are never able to exercise. If desires are living, the soul, with its affection, endeavours to put into execution the means necessary for its desired end, and souls which work by desiring, and desire by working as far as in them lies, are very certain of the help and the instruction of the Holy Spirit until they reach the height of perfection. How large a part of living desires frequently aroused play in the nuturing of love is indicated in the ninth chapter of the book of Daniel, where an angel appears to Daniel and says to him : 'Because thou art a man of desires, the Lord sends me to thee that thou mayest be instructed.'

We conclude, then, that continual desires lead the soul to God because they are the wings of the enamoured spirit. And the soul which by living desires holds fellowship with God grows continually in knowledge of Him ; and he who best knows God most loves Him, and he who most loves Him most desires Him. These are two correlatives, each of which is strengthened by the other. And thus it is proved that it is impossible for one who has a continual desire to be eager in love to cease loving.

VERSE XVII
Affection, with desire,
Gives indulgence and jubilation.

Affection is a loving, fervent and solicitous inclination of the soul which drives out from it desire for any created thing, in so far as to do this is lawful and right, so that the soul may the more readily travel to its God. There is this difference between (the functions of) affection and the affective instinct in the way of contemplation : affection accompanies the desires, and soars with them, and the flight lasts for sometime, but the uprising of the affective instinct to union with God must be thought of as sudden and momentary, without the mediation of any created thing, or of any thought, though I do not say without any desire which can terminate in the object desired, for, when the soul wishes to rise, it rises to that which it has previously desired, and at times possesses that which it desired before it realizes that it was desiring it.

As to the second line, by indulgence is meant pardon, and by jubilation plenary absolution which sets the soul free to rejoice, for 'jubilation' is derived form the word jubilo, which means 'heartfelt joy'. So the sense of this verse is : The soul that has eager desires to serve and love God, and sets all its affection on this and on pleasing Him, is forgiven for the past, cleansed from the present and protected against the future by this same love which occupies its affection. And this same affection gives it such confidence in the great goodness of God that with the testimony of the watch which it keeps on its conscience it experiences almost continuous joy or happy consolation, whereby it recognizes the benefit that has come to it from this pardon. And the love whereby it is pardoned so greatly increases its consolation that this produces in it heartfelt joy, and conscious of this pardon, it says that it causes it jubilation. There is naught that brings such pleasure to Uncreated Love as that love created should love Him purely and gladly and with eager affection, and to such a one Uncreated Love grants indulgence and jubilation. In this way daily venial faults are more quickly consumed with the fire of love than when we attempt to destroy them by our own efforts. So the love which consumes them bestows on the soul indulgence, and its gladness causes jubilation, and its purified conscience causes jubilation likewise.

VERSE XVIII
ANd a very great sign of love
Is leanness and rigour.

Richard (of Saint Victor), in the seventeenth chapter of the second book of De Arca mystica, commenting that verse of the fifty-fourth Psalm which says : 'Behold here the man who was my acqaintance and guide, who together with me ate sweet food,...,' uses these words : 'It is marvellous to see how the spirit and the body grieve or rejoice together concerning any harm or any good fortune that befalls either of them.' The yearning desires of the heart are never without affliction. And, since it is certain that the body grieves for that which the soul suffers, it is necessary to understand that, the more our insistent desires for a thing which we greatly esteem are prolonged, the more our fatigue increases. And since, as we have said, the desire cannot cease loving, the more it loves, the more it recognises how right it is to love more and more, and to have greater and greater yearning and less satisfaction ; for, the more the soul knows about the Supreme Good, the keener becomes its hunger to possess It ; nor is this hunger assuaged by eating - I mean by attaining to such love as only increases the yearning of him who has received it. This yearning ceases not to produce in the soul a blessed affliction, which, as the time of its exile is prolonged, grows within it more and more since during that exile it cannot perfectly achieve the goal of its desire.

Now, as the soul continues in this holy and delectable affliction, the yearning which increases within it as its knowledge grows causes it to forget the needs of the body. And as the body, of its nature, must needs grieve for the troubles of the soul, it is afflicted by its compassion, and, at the same time its capacity for taking nourishment diminishes, and it becomes weak, and it is this weakness of its members which is here called the 'leanness' whereby love is known. As to the rigour, the yearnings of the soul grow with the needs of the body, in such a way that, the more it lacks, the more conscious it is of its lack, through the strength which proceeds from the desires of love. In the forty-first Psalm the prophet says that the tears were his bread by day and by night ; and, as is said above, the body shares its bread with the soul ; it follows, therefore, that this bread wherewith souls that have fed upon love maintain their body in tears. The soul said that the body gladly partook of sweet food with it ; and those who have experience of this way say that there are no tears so sweet as those that proceed from yearnings of the love which is known to be the most worthy of being loved exceedingly. The loving tears, then, are sweet bread which give great nourishment to the soul, and at the same time leanness to the body. And so content is the soul that this leanness grows in rigour and, as the verse says, is the sign of increased love.

It should be observed, however, that there are those who are stout and well-nourished by nature, and, in such as they, love declares not itself by these signs, however ardent their love may be, as it often is. When, therefore, you see anyone full of the yearnings of love and lean in body, understand that he is being overwhelmed by the consolations of friendship ; and if you see such a one that is well-nourished, take it that his pure conscience and his deep-rooted goodness produce in him a freedom and a contentment which give him strength.

VERSE XIX
The enamoured soul
Is ever needy.

It is very usual for love to make those who are deeply enamoured very needy, and, the more their love grows, the needier will they become ; for, as has been said, as love increases, the knowledge of the dignity of the thing that is loved grows, and contrariwise this knowledge which grows in the soul causes it to have ever greater love. This love that grows in the soul makes it ever needier, and produces in it such a sickness of love that it cannot hide its need. Thus the spouse in the fifth chapter of the Songs addresses her eager desires and her enkindled affection under the name 'Daughters of Jerusalem', saying to them, 'I adjure you, if you see my Beloved, to tell Him that I am sick of love.' She demands not to be cured of this sickness, for she knows that, the more completely she is cured, the more sick she becomes ; she only demands that He shall know of her sickness.

That is to say, they should tell Him from her that she is sick, so that He shall make her desires to grow, and they will feed her affection the more by telling Him of it ; for the need which grows with love is the need for for loving, and the more it grows in its effect - that is to say, in making her still more enamoured - the more it grows in love, and, as that need grows greater, the greater is the satisfaction and the happiness that it brings. So this soul desires to be not for a moment other than needy, and the verse is true.

VERSE XX
When we think most on a thing
It is a sign that we most love it.

So far as our present purpose is concerned, all our thoughts are of one of two kinds. We may think some evil thought against our will, though our own covetousness and diligence of our adversary : if with all our power we resist these thoughts, and do battle faithfully, they win us merit. But there are also thoughts meritorious in themselves, and these we encourage of our own will. In the first kind of thought there are feelings to which we consent not, and here we do battle and win merit : this is not to our present purpose. In the second kind we both feel and consent : we fight no battle and win very great merit ; we seek out these thoughts and retain them within ourselves and we must needs be watchful to preserve them. It is concerning this kind of thought that the verse says that the more we think it the more we love. In the hundred and nineteenth Psalm the prophet says to our loving God : 'As I loved Thy law, Lord, I occupied myself in it all the day.' Which is almost as though he had said : 'So worthy to be loved are the laws of love of our God, and so much is my whole soul captivated by His boundless goodness, that my thought is of them all the day long - that is, so continuously that, if I should think of aught (nothing) else, I cannot dwell upon it.

It should be observed, however, that a man cannot continue to think profitable thoughts if he have not first been very careful and persevering in rejecting thoughts which are harmful and unprofitable. Of these we read in the eighteenth Psalm : 'If my sins have not dominion over me, I shall be clean, and the words of my mouth will be acceptable to my God and in His presence will be the thought of my heart.' The Psalmist said that his thought was in the presence of God because he knew well that his whole love was set on Him on Whom he desired to think. And neither is it possible for thought on that which is not loved to have any stability nor can a thing which is loved be absent from the thought for long, since both love itself and the causes for loving impel one to think upon them.

The most precious treasure, then, of any man is that which he loves most with the greatest singleness of heart. So that, if I ask you where your heart is, you will tell me that it is where your eager thought has borne it. Saint Matthew, in his sixth chapter, tells us : 'Ye have your heart fixed on your treasure.' Your memory follows your thoughts and the same thoughts are incited by the memory, and both they and it occupy themselves with their treasure. So, where your treasure is, know that there your love is and there your affection will travel. The verse, then is true.

VERSE XXI
Where the thought is squarely set
Love is most surely founded.

Every building that is builded foursquare has greater firmness, for it is the same on each side and is the more durable because it is uniformly and equally based. So in the twenty-first chapter of the Apocalypse we read that the celestial city that was shown to Saint John had twelve gates. These were in groups of three, which shows us that the city was planned as a square, which the author expresses by saying : 'The city was measured and it was set foursquare.' Since the city is eternal, it follows that its squareness denotes everlasting perfection. From this it will be gathered that, when our thoughts is set square on meditation upon everlasting things in such a way that no more emphasis is laid on one side than on another, there is great profit. For this reason the Apostle desired that the Ephesians should be deeply rooted in love and charity, and in the third chapter of his epistle to them he admonishes them, saying : 'So that ye may comprehend with all the saints what is the height, and the depth, and the length, and the breadth.' Which is as if he had said more plainly : 'So that your intellectual comprehension may not incline to any one direction, since God is in all directions equally.' And when our understanding strays in divers directions an on divers occasions, though the goal at which it aims is the same, it is not quiet, nor squarely set, so that it reaches not perfection. But when our will has quiet, we shall say that the thought of the human heart is surely founded, because there is in it no ferment of the understanding ; and we shall say that its foundation is foursquare, because it is set equally on the higher level and on the lower and inclines not to any one direction.

'Love is most surely founded,' because love is the more perfect according to the quiet, and repose, and secluded stability which any contemplative has in his mental prayer. Contemplation never attains perfection till it is set foursquare in tranquillity and quiet, for let it be noted that equality in love, which varies not in any direction, causes it to be based on quiet and perfection, which is the most durable tranquillity. And so it is very true that love is most surely founded, or most persevering, if the lover disperses not his understanding ; and this is what the verse says.

VERSE XXII
And if memory is surely founded
It is a sign of the greatest victory.

Memory is said to be one of the three faculties of the soul, which in the life to come will have as its prize perpetuity in glory : that is to say, it will have a tranquil existence in the most quiet serenity. Wherefore memory will be perpetually founded upon such quiet that it will think of no more that one thing, being surely and firmly founded in the glory of its most loving God. Now the more we bring ourselves into conformity with happiness during this exile, the greater certainty we shall have of that everlasting life, where the victory is commensurate with the memory of those that partake of it. So that memory, in its everlasting foundation, will achieve (true) possession, and in proportion as it begins to have such foundation here, the nearer it approaches to that eternal victory. Observe that in the hundred and eleventh Psalm it is written that 'each of the righteous shall be had in everlasting memory. That eternal memory must correspond to the memory which here on earth had most quiet in its most loving God, so that it may be understood that quiet, or firm foundation, was a sign of the greatest victory.

VERSE XXIII
And where it is most stable
There love is most lasting.

This verse depends upon the last, affirming that the perseverance in love proceeds from continued tranquillity and stability of the soul, giving us to understand that, in order to acquire this tranquillity and stability, it is necessary to give as much time as possible to mental prayer. For, since the memory is more stable in its quiet, the longer this stability lasts in prayer, the longer will love last. We may remark how true is the saying that obedience to one's superior and love to one's fellow must come before the quiet of contemplation, but you must realize that there is one condition - while you are engaged on this outward business you must not forget the tranquillity of your soul. The more this is kept, the more stable your love will be, and, as the verse says, the longer will it last.

VERSE XXIV
Never will love attain its goal
Without the wings of cherubim.

God, Who is boundless, is Uncreated Love, and is love's true Goal, for it is He, in His measureless goodness, Who has implanted love in the soul that is in grace and is enkindled in charity. As all living beings proceed with their eye upon a goal, and the soul whose life is most perfect, following its path to perfection, rests not till it reaches its goal of Everlasting Love, it is necessary that, to attain that happy state, the soul must contrive to fly with the wings of cherubim, not resting till it is in the presence of that Love. Here it may be observed that Saint Dionysius, in the seventh chapter of the Book of the Angelic Hierarchy, says : 'The order of the cherubim is more ardent, more aware (of God), purer, simpler and more perfect than any of the other angelic orders, save only that of the seraphim. They contemplate the first operative virtue, which is God, and in them is wholly  and perfectly accomplished the illumination of Divine knowledge. Thus, with the light of Divine Wisdom, they contemplate Divine Wisdom in purity and simplicity, without any image or figure, but in themselves and through themselves.' It must not be understood by this that the angelic creatures are able to contemplate the Divine Essence wholly and perfectly  in so far as It can be known, because only God, Who is boundless, can know Himself, and comprehend Himself perfectly, (and this we have) on the surest authority of the ineffable Gospel.

When it is said that the cherubim have wings, the meaning is that they are free from all impediment. The soul, intellectually - that is, by way of the understanding - looks at our God and Lord by means of thoughts or images or figures of creatures. But in contemplation which is pure, and most quiet, and perfect, only essential love, only the essence of the soul, is occupied alone, in love alone, without any intervention of the understanding. It is for this reason that it desires seraphic wings, so that with wings of cherubim it may attain its true Goal. It may be said in explanation of this that in the twenty-fifth chapter of Exodus it is written how God our Lord commanded Moses that on the mercy-seat of the ark of the covenant he should set two cherubim and that they should have their wings outstretched, so that on either side they should embrace and cover the mercy-seat.

Concerning this it may be observed that Richard (of Saint Victor), in the fifth chapter of the fourth book of De Arca mystica, says that 'cherubim' means 'filling with grace', having previously said, in other chapters, 'By the mercy-seat we understand grace of contemplation.' The passagein Exodus says that the wings of the cherubim are to embrace and cover this mercy-seat, and Richard, in the tenth chapter of the fourth book of De Arca mystica, says as follows : 'For the cherubim to have their wings outspread means simply that the soul has attained to Divine contemplation throughout all time and space, and perseveres in this exercise with eager desires, which are ever ready to soar.' In this sense every soul in grace that continually desires to fly to the goal of love has seraph's wings ; for, as the same Richard says in this same chapter, birds stretch out their wings when they wish to fly. Even so is our soul, which is a bird and was born to fly : the more it endeavours to have seraph's wings, the higher will it fly, and these wings will cover the mercy-seat  and embrace the grace of its contemplation, for the flight of these seraph's wings - that is, of the cherubim - will raise it above all that is not God, so that it may remain alone with Him Who is its true end, so that this verse will be true. May God protect all and by His infinite goodness raise us up to His love.

HERE, IN HARMONY WITH THESE VERSES CONCERNING LOVE, FOLLOW SOME INTIMATE APHORISMS, WHICH I COMPOSED FOR MYSELF IN THE NAME OF JESUS.

Oh, that one would make me to know - all that I am powerless to do!
That one would make me forget - all that I can remember!
That one would take me from myself - oh, my God, and give me to Thee!
Oh, that I might lose all - by seeking God without rule!
That one would give me discretion - to follow reason!
That I had strength - and scorn (for the world) and poverty!
Oh, that one could feel - what he cannot say!
That one could avoid losing - that which one cannot have!
That one could be esteemed - by that which one has not seen!
That one could navigate - and be engulfed and not (have to) row!
Oh, that without faith - one could enjoy ave without ve!
That one could go about clothed - in the world of his forgetfulness!
That one could rest - without resting and without staying!
Who will say that it is not good - to be continually serene?
That one would give me skill - to be in my presence!
Oh, that one would give strength - to this shadow of death!
Oh, that one knew how to feel - all that it is fitting to suffer!
Oh, that one might leave all - to go wholly to the All in all!
That one might cease loving - this which only appears to be!
That one might follow without turning back - that which seems not to be, yet is!
That one might journey - without stopping to take breath!
That one might without vexation - neither open nor shut one's eyes!
Oh, that one had at one's hand - the fruit of winter and summer!
If there is no sound of a bell - he eats most who has the greatest hunger.
What is meant by hunger is satiety - let him who experience it realize.
That which gives hunger in satiety - they say is pure substance.
And that which is pure substance - requires great vigilance.
He who is to follow Christ - must not lay himself down to sleep.
He who is to follow Christ - must walk in righteousness and be ever alert.
He must go along narrow paths - and walk along a straight road.
He who is to find Christ - must seek Him with love.
If Christ is to be found - love is the way to seek Him.
This way of love - is the way of scorn (for the world) and of pain.
He who seeks Him not thus - must keep silence if he find Him not,
Since none has sought Him thus - who has not found Him.
He who cannot find Him - must complain of himself.
Of a surety he who finds Him not - is a slave to his own pettiness.
He who goes for protection to God alone - will be persecuted by none.
He who fears no adversary - has the world against him.
When any persecute him - they are giving him that for which he asks.
To persecution - he has manifest devotion.
For he never forgets - that Christ was persecuted.
No slave of sense will believe - that persecution is what he desires.
He will take for his protection - Christ, Who is his Judge and his Witness.
If Christ is in the memory - the victory is always won.
Human consolation - is like an empty nut-shell.
He who trusts in his own sight - soon loses his happiness.
The brief duration of the world - shows that it is all dust and ashes.
And as such it must be regarded - since there is naught to be lost in it.
To have life that ends in death - is a miserable lot.
And why it is called life - since it is of such short measure?
Death is far away - if a man lives prudently.
He who is prudent in life - finds consolation at his death.
This world and its happiness - are like a bird which flies quickly by.
For it is vanquished by the wind - it is quickly lost to view.
The world has its season - like (the opening of) a peacock's tail.
For just as it is giving most pleasure - it dissolves into the air.
The world is a bridge of wind - let those who live walk along it with care.
Those whom it most pleases - it quickly leaves with nothing.
Oh, how much hesitation - is contained in my actions!
Where is the perfection - that comes from a single action?
When there are desire and affection - there is never a lack of prayer.

CHAPTER 41 - Shows how the Soul comes to withdraw within Itself and to soar above Itself, and at the End touches upon Raptures

When the soul feeds upon the most fertile pastures of Holy Scripture, by reading some text or (thinking upon) some scene describing the boundless perfections of our boundless God, or other passages so inmumerable that they cannot be recounted, and when, after having thus pastured, it retires, in quiet, like some very cleanly beast, to digest and enjoy that which it has absorbed, to nuture, strengthen and fatten itself upon it, so that the soul's very marrow is sustained by prudent meditation and discreet and ordered understanding ; when it ruminates and mediates thus, it proceeds, little by little, to draw near to itself and enter within itself. And when during this prudent meditation its understanding fails and recedes form itself and is transformed into pure intelligence, the soul is wholly within itself; but it never withdraws within itself perfectly unless it shut behind it the dorr which leads to all that is not God. And when, being thus quiet and withdrawn, it neither knows, nor desires, nor is able to desire anything or ask anything of God after its own individual manner, since its faith is aware that its God, with Whom it is withdrawn, knows all that it needs and sees all its desires, and all the things that it was able to desire before it was withdrawn  with Him, God's will is to grant it freely and fully more than it could ever desire.

At such a time this soul has soared above itself; we say 'above itself' because it surpasses and transcends the natural limits which it can set for itself. All that it achieves in that state is wholly supernatural, and comes solely from the gracious condescension of the great Orderer of all nature. And all that the soul needs to know during this time is how to be foolish, and neither to understand nor to wish to know more. Let it rather receive everything that comes to it without looking at anything (to desire it), but be receptive, as has already been shown at the fifteenth chapter of the second part of this book. So that for the soul to draw near to itself is for it to withdraw from the hesitations and wanderings of the imagination, whose operations invariably consist in vague and unprofitable thoughts. For the soul to enter within itself is for it not to be content with being recollected, abstaining from vague thoughts and seeking to hush the understanding and prevent it from thinking of divers things, howsoever good they be, but to fix itself and remain intent upon Truth alone, and to convert itself into intelligence. If it do this, the soul will pass from good to better, and having recollected itself and drawn near to itself, it will enter within itself and be quiet with its God until it soar above itself. For the soul to soar above itself is for it to transcend and rise above every natural faculty, in such a way that it ascends into the heights and attains that which is sublimer than any created thing, and, leaving it all, becomes quiet in its Infinite and Uncreated God alone ; for in this quiet, and in it alone, can the soul achieve the end and perfection of contemplation, which can be the most sublime thing in this our exile.

The soul, then, is raised above itself when it understands that it understands naught concerning created things and this understanding brings it great satisfaction. But, if it be asked, it cannot succeed in explaining either by words or by signs in what manner it understands it, nor who it is that it understands ; all that it can say is that it is Divine condescension alone which is working in it, and that of its own self it does nothing, and that the Divine Essence, being Infinite, is incogitable, and that before It the soul and all its faculties fail. It knows, too, that it must do naught at this time except know how not to work, because its own faculties are below it, and it is itself raised above them, and replies : 'My secret is for myself alone, and of the works of God I can say naught else.' From this it follows that, when the soul soars above itself, it attains quiet in its God alone, and has no memory of aught but God, even though at such a time it have possession of all its senses and faculties. We understand here that, as it is one thing for the soul to draw near to itself and another for it to enter within itself, so the soul may be above itself without leaving itself. Let those who understand not this enquire of experience, for I have heard that by experience it can be learned effectively. It will be found that, in order to draw near itself and enter within itself, the soul, by the favour of its God, can aid itself by using the natural skill of its desires and affection and also its good conscience.

But if, while it is within itself, it is to soar above itself, God alone must work in it through His gracious goodness, while it will itself do naught. For just as, in the creation of these bodies, our God makes use of a secondary cause, such as the elements and nature, inspired by Him alone, Who is ever the First Cause, even so, in order that the soul may keep guard over its own heart, and may hide itself within it, and may succeed in soaring above it, and above itself, His great goodness permits souls to aid each other to enter within themselves by their natural skill. And, just as our God created the rational soul, so He alone, of His infinite goodness, permits no qualities, or accidents, or elements, or any such thing, either to raise the soul above the highest point of its own being or to unite it to Himself in supernatural wise, employing not the skill of such a soul but only Divine condescension. This seems to have been the meaning of the prophecy of Ezekiel when, describing the four Evangelists under the similitude of four beasts, he says that the faces of the three were on the right and the left of all four.

While I pay reverence, on my bended knees, to the commentaries of the Doctors of our Mother the Church, I venture to suggest that, in this case, the expression 'right and left' signifies the operation which is or may be possible to our natural skill. For, wishing to show how our God, of Himself, can work in most supernatural wise, the holy prophet says that the face of the eagle was not only on the right and on the left but above all four. And so he says : 'The face of the eagle was above all four', of which four he was one, for to say 'above all four of them' very clearly shows that his own soul was raised above itself. It is clear, and the Doctors show it, that the wings of these four signify the flight of their spirits, from which flight natural skill is not in this case excluded. But the faces of these four are meant to signify to us Divine comprehension, wherein no work of nature is admitted. If the three Evangelists, having set the faces of their lofty comprehension above the natural  way, are said to be on the left and the right of all four, this means that on each side they surrounded with their doctrine the four corners of Holy Mother Church. It is certain that we may fairly understand that one who, by Divine clemency, had set his comprehension above all four, would soar far above himself in comprehension by natural skill. Thus the 'left' indicates the approach to oneself and the 'right' the withdrawal within oneself, but not soaring above oneself. It is not given to learned men to understand this, however erudite they may be, nor is it denied to the experience of those who are practised in letters. In confirmation of this I will relate that which I have myself seen.

Feeling the need of satisfying myself about certain problems, I spoke of them to a skilled theologian who was greatly given to virtue, and in the duties entailed by his learning very fully occupied in charity and obedience, though his work excused him from quiet contemplation. And when I had entirely satisfied myself on certain points which could be cleared dup by recourse to learning, another question, concerning an interior motion, occurred to me which learning could not answer. With complete sincerity he said to me : 'This whereof you speak is a sweet unction which rises up near the heart and flow on till it reaches it, and it is this that causes this joyful motion. And another humour moves in the spleen and flows through the whole body  and causes this other motion in the contrary direction. I must tell you that I heard this in Paris from my teacher there : it seems very apt to me and I have never forgotten it. He is quite right about it, for this is natural anatomy.' On hearing this reply, I said nothing further, but kept silence and simulated agreement. A few days later, I chanced to be talking to a poor woman of my acquaintance who, I know, has often not so much as a sardine to eat with her bread. We spoke of various things, and in time came to the subject of these withdrawals of the soul, whereupon this woman, so poor and yet so rich, began to speak in language hidden from learned men. 'At a time like this,' she said, 'the soul finds it has knowledge of that which it understands not and understands that which it knows not.' And, she added, 'Sometimes, when I have gone through such hidden experiences, I have felt very sorry for people in almost all states of life, and it has seemed to me that to a great extend they are all very backward in the service of Our Lord. And then I have thought that, even though I am the sort of person I am, I could give learned men lessons in how to live, as well as simple people, widowed people, married people, and so on.' From this it will be gathered that learning combined with weak spirituality can do little towards conveying a clear understanding of interior learning, which can be effectively expounded by very simple and poor people if they have fed upon experience of mystical theology ; wherein is confirmed that passage in the Gospels which shows how Our Lord oftentimes hides from the wise that which He reveals to babes. At the same time, as I have said elsewhere, if with sound experience  can be combined learning in sacred theology, it will be a very great advantage.

It can be said with the greatest truth that in the withdrawal of the soul can be found such secrets as wisdom cannot know. I heard a man, of an extremely silent disposition, who entered the house of a great man to look at his rich tapestry, which was very remarkable. When he went into one of the rooms, he say a large glass case containing so many pieces of gold, and precious stones, and such fine work in enamel and embroidery in gold and silver, that he marvelled as he looked upon them, through he knew not at what he was looking. He was so busy admiring the appearance of the sideboard that he looked at none of the details, for his wonder so completely exceeded his comprehension that he tool in nothing at all. When anyone spoke to him he replied in an awed voice : 'I only want to look.' Then the people standing round said to him : 'Are you struck with this? Go upstairs to the room where the master of the house is and you will certainly find things there that eyes have not seen nor heart can conceive.'

From this comparision you will gather that the soul sometimes thinks of entering into itself to enjoy what is has found on previous occasions, and that it then finds so much more that it cannot take it all in ; so that, as it understands nothing, it finds there is very great freedom merely in knowing how to be foolish ; and from the gain to which it attains there it gathers that, if it goes any farther, it can do nothing more in any natural way. It will move us, then, to see that the soul to whom the Sovereign Lord communicates Himself by supernatural means comprehends as much of Him as His loving grace is pleased to communicate to it, the soul itself having no power to do anything but only exercising its will. And when such a soul reaches the last stage of its journey, which is the mount whereon it soars above itself - whre, as has neen said, it sees, as it were, in a glass case that which it had not expected to see, and could not desire, nor even wish - then it becomes almost alienated : not, however, by passing out from itself but by soaring above itself. If, as in our story, it pass on farther to another room in which there is more to see, and yet more again, only one thing can happen, namely, that it will lose all sense and movement, be entirely alienated from itself, and fall into an ecstasy - that is, it will go where its mind cannot follow, or, as one says, become enraptured. My God knows that I would not lie, or sell anything that is not my own, so I confess in His presence that I know I am speaking the truth ; but I confess further that I know it otherwise than from my own experience, and even without knowing what experience in this matter of alienation or raputre is. I know, however, that, when the soul passes beyond itself, there is no place where it can be save outside itself and deeply immersed in the love which has enamoured it ; and I know and can declare that, when in these direct and most righteous ways certain souls are enraptured in that same rapture, God inspires them with more grace and makes them to know more in brief spaces of time than is possible in any other way over long periods.

To make this the better understood, I will recall that I spoke of it at great length to one who knew much about it, and who, by Sovereign Grace, has had more, and longer, and more genuine experience of it than one would believe in these days of ours to exist anywhere on earth. Our boundless God has showed great miracles to this soul to whom I refer while he is still living. I once had a discussion with this soul which lasted for five days, on two or three of which we were occupied almost from sunrise to sunset. And it pleased the goodness of God that I should learn many things which I desired to know and which were very necessary to me ; and not only these, but very many more which I could not even have desired to know. I well remember that he talked to me on one occasion for long periods, without being able to help it, and two or three times, as he spoke, he fell into a rapture, whereupon I learned certain things that I had never thought to learn and cannot set down here on paper.

But to confirm what has been said above, I will add that he told me once that for fully five-and-twenty years there had not been as many as ten nights on which his soul had not been enraptured. And he said that true alienations brought such satisfaction to a single one of them was more than sufficient to compensate for all the tribulations which in a long life he had offered to God suffered for His sake. And, to the greater glory of God, he told me that in one of his raptures he had learned that a man who had been a friend and servant of God was at that time at a distant port, where he was awaiting the departure of a ship in which he was proposing to leave (Spain) to become a follower of Mahomet. The thoughts of that poor heart were revealed to him, and also the why wherein he was to win him back, for, although he was fleeing from God, His boundless loving-kindness was ever ready to help him. When this contemplative soul sent him a message telling him of his wrongdoing and describing what was in his mind - without reflecting that none could tell what he was thinking within himself - he knew that it was of God. But, as the man was bereft of reason and deceived by the devil, he replied thanking him, but would not come back, saying that he knew that he was destined for hell, and, as he would have no life save that of this world, he wanted to pass it as he liked. At this the contemplative was greatly afflicted, and earnestly importuned God to grant him that soul. And as the Eternal Father, full of loving-kindness, desired not that he should perish, He ordained that he should not set out, but be apprehended and brought into the presence of him who so much desired him, through whose efforts he was apprehended and brought back, without knowing how this was ordained : all this that contemplative told me at this time. And as he reproved him most sorrowfully and in many ways brought him to a knowledge of the loving-kindness of God, it pleased the Eternal Goodness so to change him that he submitted unconditionally, and, after spending four years in strict penance, passed to severeign Glory in such a way that none of those who knew him doubted his certain salvation.

I have said this for two reasons. One is that we may be captivated by the great goodness of God and consider how greatly He loves us. the other is to confirm what blessings are contained in estasies and certain raptures of well-schooled souls. I know there are some who, not understanding these raptures, insist that the souls who experience them are devoid not only of movement and sense but of comprehension, and that they gain nothing thereby. That this is a false opinion is proved by that which I have said in describing the aforementioned mystery (brought about) by the great goodness of God. Well do I know, and I knew it by experience even in my earliest years, that some souls experience pseudo-raptures, which, when their nature understood, prove to be laughable and ridiculous, for feeble souls, unversed in the delectable fellowship of quiet contemplation, think that, when some unaccustomed spark touches the fuel of some unaccustomed thought, the must kindle the fuel by blowing on it with all their poor strength. And thus they rack their brains, wondering, with their puny minds, if they are really experiencing alienation. Such cases of false rapture are like arrobas of wine which seem full and then suddenly become empty : not only do they get no more wine, but, through the foolish excitement produced by their imprudent procedure, they even lose what they had. I will give more particulars about this, which I know both by my own experience and from other sources of information. Let this be a warning to beginners.

I know, too, that things sometimes occur which cannot be explained in speech or in writing. There is felt in the innermost parts and in the breast a violence and force, which, distressing though it is - causing, as it does, a kind of exhausting sadness - the soul would like to last its whole life long. I saw a person to whom such things often happened. He made efforts not to be noticed ; and whenever this happened he suffered, either on that day or the next, fluxions of blood through the mouth, on as many as thirty or so occasions. The fluxions then ceased, and he would think no more of them till a similar thing happened again. I was present on one of these occasions and asked what it could be, and the very spiritual person to whom I had addressed the question said that he was quite familiar with the occurence and that often a person was afraid to venture to lose control of himself in contemplation because of fluxions of blood from which he suffered each time ; so serious were these that they weakened him and impeded him from quiet contemplation and sometimes even hindered him from celebrating.

I asked this same question to another person very far advanced in spiritual things and he told me that sometimes these motions were so violent that the very ribs seemed to be torn asunder, and that the person who experienced them believed that this was happening to him. For there are times when the whole of the heavens would be too narrow to contain the soul, so that it would try to enlarge the limits into which it had withdrawn. And if at that time he were in a desert, where he could heave a few cries or sighs, he would find a little relief in doing so : it is ont surprising if the effort he makes to conceal his state should cause these fluxions of blood in great abundance. I say this because at times even the saints could not dissemble but heaved sighs and cries in public. In this the found some relief, as sometimes happens to slow walkers, who at the pace at which they go cannot overtake those in front of them. Sometimes it happens, and I have myself experienced it, that, before a sound has properly left my throat, the person whom I am calling hears me ; just as I am in process of making the sound, he turns round and stops to wait for me. This often happens to slow walkers (on the spiritual road) who yearn to travel to their God : being unable to attain to Him, they sign for His presence, and, before the sigh has left their breasts, they are heard by the great goodness of the most gracious God, for Whom the soul sighs.

And very often it happens that, before the sigh leaves the yearning heart, the soul has become aware that God has heard the sound which it has scarcely uttered. It may be that the desire of the heart has heaved a sigh without noise or sound, which arises from its desire to communicate with its most loving God, Whose will it is that we call upon Him that He may be able to await and respond ; for a truth He is eager for our company, and says that His delight is to go in company with the children of men. But, in so far as it is possible, and at however great cost, such public motions should be concealed, the body mastering the spirit and giving it no opportunity of exhibiting the strength of its feelings in a public manner, when such prudence is within its power. For again and again it happens that a man has uttered a sigh or groan before knowing that he was going to do so ; if, however, he realizes it, he should cut it short and dissemble it with a sharp cough. For when for love of God a man restrains himself from stretching forth to God, thus closing one door, He is wont to enter by another and yet another. May He ever be our protection.

CHAPTER 42 - Shows how to recognize the Difference between True Spirit and its Contrary, and explains that Text from the Gospels: 'A fructibus eorum cognoscetis eos'

To affirm that the spirit which dictates as it speaks - that is to say, which puts into the understanding the ideas or aspirations of what which is to be said or written - is a wicked or lying spirit, or a good and true spirit, would be to risk a wrong judgment and a terrible fall unless one had the gift of discernment of spirits whereof the Apostle speaks, for which cause it is needful, lest one err, to prove or examine which of the two it be, as Saint John exhorts in his epistle, saying : 'Believe not every spirit, but try it, whether it be the spirit of God or no.' The possibility that there are two spirits is not difficult to demonstrate ; and both, the bad as well as the good, may speak good Catholic language. Examples of the good spirit are all the evangelists and prophets. That the bad can speak well may be seen from Caiaphas and Balaam. But it would be difficult for a bad spirit to speak well through a righteous and holy man, though Saint Gregory, in writing on Ezekiel, shows it to be possible. Such a spirit may utter falsehoods and lies - in such a way that the falseness is concealed and is not obvious evento persons of experience - and yet the person through whom it speaks may be committing no sin. Examples of this may be found in Saint Isabel of Hungary and Saint Bridget, both canonized saints who were visited by God in revelations and visions. We find the one saying that the Mother of the Lamb had revealed to her that she had been conceived in the womb of Saint Anne without original sin ; the other (that she said she had been conceived) in original sin. Diverse and contrary spirits were speaking in both these - the one, a wicked and lying spirit ; the other, a true and good spirit - and this without fault of either. Both things cannot possibly be true, since they are contradictory, and at that time it was not known which was the truth, for the Church had not decided, the matter therefore being an open one.

The difficulty in discerning spirits occurs, not when the falsehood is clear, for then it is evident that the spirit is a wicked and lying one, but when both speak the truth. Who, in such a case, can distinguish between them without the gift of discernment? When we consider the rule which the Master of truth gave us, the difficulty seems even greater. For He said : 'By the fruit of their works ye shall know them.' If both speak the truth, we should judge both to be good, taking their fruit to be the truth which both say. But, lest we should have an opportunity of erring in this respect, and thus of being deceived, we must note that speaking the truth is not here described here as fruit, nor is it the fruit : the fruit is that which the spirit that tells the truth draws from it at the time or afterwards. For example : the good spirit knows how to bring him through whose mouth it speaks, and also those to whom what has been spoken  is rightly and duely communicated, to greater advancement in virtues or to the more thorough destruction of certain vices ; and in both cases they experience an increase of knowledge and so magnify God. This is the fruit which the spirit of truth draws from the truth that it speaks, and by which, according to the above-mentioned rule of our Master, Jesus Christ, it is to be known.

Again, a wicked and lying spirit hopes and thinks it can persuade him through whose mouth it speaks that which is good, and those to whom this is communicated, to believe it an take it to be a spirit of truth, so that it may inject some error or falsehood in the faith or in habits of life into that which it says, inciting them, by some uncertain inspiration concerning the present or the future and thus inducing them to set up a reputation for themselves by means of some presumptuous interior motions, in such a way that he through whose mouth it speaks truth, or those who follow the truth which he has spoken, may hav a good esteem of himself ; the which is no small harm in tose who seek God by contemplation. This is the fruit which the wicked and lying spirit thinks to produce, and according to which, according to the rule prescribed, Christ shows us that we may know it.

But who, without the spirit of discernment, will be able to recognize a wicked spirit when it is speaking the truth, and persuading plausibly, and seeming to enkindle the human spirit in Divine love, and raising the understanding so high above created things to contemplate Divine secrets and loftiest mysteries with such sensible sweetness of spirit that the soul wherein it works seems to be tasting some such vestiges of glory as are so grievously longed for in this vale of woe? For in all this bad fruit which it thinks it can produce from things invented in this way there is no sign of the poison, or at least we cannot succeed in recognizing it openly. And since, by the permission of Our Lord, the wicked spirit can produce this and many other sublime things in the soul of the good, so as to cause some of the bad fruits aforementioned - whether lying, or falsehood, or any kind of presumption - we must observe that the Holy Spirit affirms that he alone navigates his boat safely among such subtle errors who ever fears that he may offend God by falling into error. From the which, by His infinite goodness, may Christ Jesus guard us.

~ completed 20.08.2011 ~