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-
-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Spiritual Torrents, by
-Jeanne Marie Bouvières de la Mot Guyon
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: Spiritual Torrents
-
-Author: Jeanne Marie Bouvières de la Mot Guyon
-
-Translator: A. W. Marston
-
-Release Date: April 22, 2008 [EBook #25133]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPIRITUAL TORRENTS ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Free Elf, David Wilson and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
-book was produced from scanned images of public domain
-material from the Google Print project.)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-
-
-
-<hr class="pg" />
-
-<div class="tnote">
-<h3>Transcriber's note:</h3>
-<p>This eBook contains the front matter from a combined edition of <cite>A Short Method of Prayer</cite>
-and <cite>Spiritual Torrents</cite>, but only contains the text of <cite>Spiritual Torrents</cite>.</p>
-</div>
-<div class="frontmatter">
-
-<h1><a name="png.001" id="png.001"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">i</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span><small>A</small><br
- />Short Method of Prayer<br
- /><small><span>AND</span></small><br
- />Spiritual Torrents.</h1>
-
-<p class="auth"><small>BY</small><br
- />J. M. B. DE LA MOTHE GUYON.</p>
-
-<p class="transl"><strong>Translated from the Paris Edition of 1790</strong><br
- /><small>BY</small><br
- />A. W. MARSTON.</p>
-
-<p class="publ"><big>LONDON:</big><br
- />SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, LOW, &amp; SEARLE,<br
- /><small>CROWN BUILDINGS, 188 FLEET STREET.<br
- />1875.<br
- />[<em>All rights reserved.</em>]</small></p>
-
-<p class="printer"><a name="png.002" id="png.002"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">ii</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY<br
- />EDINBURGH AND LONDON</p>
-
-</div>
-<div class="preface">
-
-<h2><a name="png.003" id="png.003"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">iii</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span><i>PREFACE TO THE<br
- />ENGLISH PROTESTANT EDITION.</i></h2>
-
-<hr class="tiny" />
-
-<p class="first"><span class="smc">Some</span> apology is perhaps needed when a Protestant
-thus brings before Protestant readers the works of
-a consistent Roman Catholic author. The plea must
-be, that the doctrine and experience described are
-essentially Protestant; and so far from their receiving
-the assent of the Roman Catholic Church, their
-author was persecuted for holding and disseminating
-them.</p>
-
-<p>Of the experience of Madame Guyon, it should be
-borne in mind, that though the glorious heights of
-communion with God to which she attained may be
-scaled by the feeblest of God&#8217;s chosen ones, yet it is
-by no means necessary that they should be reached
-by the same apparently arduous and protracted path
-along which she was led.</p>
-
-<p>The &ldquo;Torrents&rdquo; especially needs to be regarded
-rather as an account of the personal experience of
-the author, than as the plan which God invariably,
-or even usually, adopts in bringing the soul into a
-state of union with Himself. It is true that, in order
-that we may &ldquo;live unto righteousness,&rdquo; we must be
-<a name="png.004" id="png.004"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">iv</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>&ldquo;dead indeed unto sin;&rdquo; and that there must be a
-crucifixion of self before the life of Christ can be
-made manifest in us. It is only when we can say, &ldquo;I
-am crucified with Christ,&rdquo; that we are able to add,
-&ldquo;Nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in
-me.&rdquo; But it does not follow that this inward death
-must always be as lingering as in the case of Madame
-Guyon. She tells us herself that the reason was,
-that she was not wholly resigned to the Divine will,
-and willing to be deprived of the gifts of God, that
-she might enjoy the possession of the Giver. This
-resistance to the will of God implies suffering on
-the part of the creature, and chastisement on the
-part of God, in order that He may subdue to Himself
-what is not voluntarily yielded to Him.</p>
-
-<p>Of the joy of a complete surrender to God, it is
-not necessary to speak here: thousands of God&#8217;s
-children are realising its blessedness for themselves,
-and proving that it is no hardship, but a joy unspeakable,
-to present themselves a living sacrifice to God,
-to live no longer to themselves, but to Him that died
-for them, and rose again.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">A simple trust in a living, personal Saviour; a
-putting away by His grace of all that is known to be
-in opposition to His will; and an entire self-abandonment
-to Him, that His designs may be worked out in
-and through us; such is the simple key to the hidden
-sanctuary of communion.</p>
-
-
-<h2><a name="png.005" id="png.005"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">v</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span><i>A SHORT METHOD OF PRAYER.</i></h2>
-
-<hr class="tiny" />
-
-<h2 class="chap nogap">CONTENTS.</h2>
-
-<div class="toc">
-<table summary="Table of Contents for first book">
-<tr><td class="chap"><small>CHAP.</small></td><td></td><td class="pg"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">I.</td><td>PRAYER POSSIBLE AT ALL TIMES, BY THE MOST SIMPLE</td><td class="pg">1</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">II.</td><td>FIRST DEGREE OF PRAYER</td><td class="pg">6</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">III.</td><td>SECOND DEGREE OF PRAYER, CALLED HERE THE PRAYER OF SIMPLICITY</td><td class="pg">13</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">IV.</td><td>SPIRITUAL DRYNESS</td><td class="pg">16</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">V.</td><td>ABANDONMENT TO GOD</td><td class="pg">18</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">VI.</td><td>SUFFERING</td><td class="pg">21</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">VII.</td><td>MYSTERIES</td><td class="pg">23</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">VIII.</td><td>VIRTUE</td><td class="pg">25</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">IX.</td><td>PERFECT CONVERSION</td><td class="pg">27</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">X.</td><td>HIGHER DEGREE OF PRAYER, THAT OF THE SIMPLE PRESENCE OF GOD</td><td class="pg">30</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">XI.</td><td>REST IN THE PRESENCE OF GOD&mdash;INWARD AND OUTWARD SILENCE</td><td class="pg">35</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">XII.</td><td>SELF-EXAMINATION AND CONFESSION</td><td class="pg">39</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap"><a name="png.006" id="png.006"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">vi</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>XIII.</td><td>READING AND VOCAL PRAYER</td><td class="pg">42</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">XIV.</td><td>THE FAULTS AND TEMPTATIONS OF THIS DEGREE</td><td class="pg">44</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">XV.</td><td>PRAYER AND SACRIFICE EXPLAINED BY THE SIMILITUDE OF A PERFUME</td><td class="pg">47</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">XVI.</td><td>THIS STATE NOT ONE OF IDLENESS, BUT OF ACTION</td><td class="pg">51</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">XVII.</td><td>DISTINCTION BETWEEN EXTERIOR AND INTERIOR ACTIONS</td><td class="pg">63</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">XVIII.</td><td>EXHORTATIONS TO PREACHERS</td><td class="pg">71</td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">XIX.</td><td>PREPARATION FOR DIVINE UNION</td><td class="pg">77</td></tr>
-
-</table>
-</div>
-
-<h2><a name="png.007" id="png.007"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">vii</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span><i>SPIRITUAL TORRENTS.</i></h2>
-
-<hr class="tiny" />
-
-<h2 class="chap nogap">CONTENTS.</h2>
-
-
-<div class="toc">
-<table summary="Table of Contents for this book">
-<tr><td colspan="3"><h2><i>PART I.</i></h2></td></tr>
-<tr><td class="chap"><small>CHAP.</small></td><td></td><td class="pg"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">I.</td><td>THE DIFFERENT WAYS IN WHICH SOULS ARE LED TO SEEK AFTER GOD</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.005">91</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">II.</td><td>OF THE FIRST WAY, WHICH IS ACTIVE AND MEDITATIVE</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.008">94</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">III.</td><td>OF THE SECOND WAY, WHICH IS THE PASSIVE WAY OF LIGHT</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.017">103</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">IV.</td><td>OF THE THIRD WAY, WHICH IS THE PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH, AND OF ITS FIRST DEGREE</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.025">111</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">V.</td><td>IMPERFECTIONS OF THIS FIRST DEGREE</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.039">125</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">VI.</td><td>SECOND DEGREE OF THE PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.053">139</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">VII.</td><td>SECT. I.&mdash;COMMENCEMENT OF THE THIRD DEGREE OF THE
- PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH&mdash;FIRST DEGREE OF THE SPOLIATION OF THE SOUL</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.065">151</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td></td><td>SECT. II.&mdash;SECOND DEGREE OF THE SPOLIATION OF THE SOUL</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.078">164</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td><a name="png.008" id="png.008"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">viii</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span></td><td>SECT. III.&mdash;THIRD DEGREE OF SPOLIATION</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.083">169</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td></td><td>SECT. IV.&mdash;ENTRANCE INTO MYSTICAL DEATH</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.093">179</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">VIII.</td><td>THIRD DEGREE OF THE PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH, IN ITS CONSUMMATION</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.099">185</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">IX.</td><td>FOURTH DEGREE OF THE PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH, WHICH IS THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE DIVINE LIFE</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.107">193</a></td></tr>
-
-
-<tr><td colspan="3"><h2><i>PART II</i>.</h2></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">I.</td><td>MORE PARTICULAR DESCRIPTION OF SEVERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE RESURRECTION LIFE</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.125">211</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">II.</td><td>STABILITY, EXPERIENCE, ELEVATION, AND EXTREME PURITY OF THE ABANDONED SOUL</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.135">221</a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">III.</td><td>PERFECT UNION OR DEIFORMITY</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.144"><ins class="TNsilent" title="Transcriber's note:
- original has '231'">230</ins></a></td></tr>
-
-<tr><td class="chap">IV.</td><td>ACTIONS AND SUFFERINGS OF THOSE IN A STATE OF UNION WITH GOD</td><td class="pg"><a href="#png.t.153"><ins class="TNsilent" title="Transcriber's note:
- original has '240'">239</ins></a></td></tr>
-</table>
-</div>
-
-
-
-<h2><a name="png.t.003" id="png.t.003"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">89</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span><big><i>SPIRITUAL TORRENTS.</i></big></h2>
-
-<p class="author"><small>BY</small><br
- />MADAME J. M. B. DE LA MOTHE-GUYON.</p>
-
-<hr class="tiny" />
-
-<p class="quote"><small>&ldquo;Let judgment run down as waters; and righteousness
-as a mighty stream.&rdquo;&mdash;<span class="smc">Amos</span> v. 24.</small></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="main">
-
-<h1><a name="png.t.005" id="png.t.005"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">91</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>SPIRITUAL TORRENTS.</h1>
-
-<hr class="tiny" />
-
-<h2 class="chap ls0 nogap"><i>PART I.</i></h2>
-
-<hr class="tiny" />
-
-<h2 class="chap nogap">CHAPTER I.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">SOULS UNDER DIVINE INFLUENCE ARE IMPELLED TO SEEK
-AFTER GOD, BUT IN DIFFERENT WAYS&mdash;REDUCED TO
-THREE, AND EXPLAINED BY A SIMILITUDE.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>As</span> soon as a soul is brought under divine influence,
-and its return to God is true and sincere,
-after the first cleansing which confession and
-contrition have effected, God imparts to it a certain
-instinct to return to Him in a most complete manner,
-and to become united to Him. The soul feels
-then that it was not created for the amusements
-and trifles of the world, but that it has a centre
-and an end, to which it must be its aim to return,
-<a name="png.t.006" id="png.t.006"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">92</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>and out of which it can never find true repose.
-This instinct is very deeply implanted in the soul,
-more or less in different cases, according to the
-designs of God; but all have a loving impatience
-to purify themselves, and to adopt the necessary
-ways and means of returning to their source and
-origin, like rivers, which, after leaving their source,
-flow on continuously, in order to precipitate themselves
-into the sea. You will observe that some
-rivers move gravely and slowly, and others with
-greater velocity; but there are rivers and <em>torrents</em>
-which rush with frightful impetuosity, and which
-nothing can arrest. All the burdens which might
-be laid upon them, and the obstructions which might
-be placed to impede their course, would only serve
-to redouble their violence. It is thus with souls.
-Some go on quietly towards perfection, and never
-reach the sea, or only very late, contented to lose
-themselves in some stronger and more rapid river,
-which carries them with itself into the sea. Others,
-which form the second class, flow on more vigorously
-and promptly than the first. They even carry
-with them a number of rivulets; but they are slow
-<a name="png.t.007" id="png.t.007"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">93</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>and idle in comparison with the last class, which
-rush onward with so much impetuosity, that they are
-utterly useless: they are not available for navigation,
-nor can any merchandise be trusted upon them,
-except at certain parts and at certain times. These
-are bold and mad rivers, which dash against the
-rocks, which terrify by their noise, and which stop
-at nothing. The second class are more agreeable and
-more useful; their gravity is pleasing, they are all
-laden with merchandise, and we sail upon them without
-fear or peril.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">Let us look, with divine aid, at these three classes
-of persons, under the three figures that I have proposed;
-and we will commence with the first, in order
-to conclude happily with the last.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.008" id="png.t.008"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">94</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER II.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">OF THE FIRST WAY, WHICH IS ACTIVE, AND OF MEDITATION&mdash;WHAT
-IT IS&mdash;ITS WEAKNESSES, HABITS, OCCUPATIONS,
-ADVANTAGES, ETC.&mdash;GENERAL OPINION&mdash;WANT OF OBSERVATION
-THE CAUSE OF MOST OF THE DISPUTES AND
-DIFFICULTIES WHICH HAVE ARISEN UPON THE PASSIVE
-WAY, AND THE ABSURD OBJECTIONS WHICH HAVE
-BEEN MADE TO IT&mdash;SOULS FOR MEDITATION&mdash;THEY
-SHOULD BE LED TO IT THROUGH THE AFFECTIONS&mdash;OPINION
-CONCERNING THEIR BARRENNESS AND POWERLESSNESS&mdash;SPIRITUAL
-BOOKS AND AUTHORS ON THE
-INNER LIFE, IN CONTRAST TO OTHERS&mdash;CAPACITY AND
-INCAPACITY OF SOULS&mdash;THE SIMPLE ARE BETTER THAN
-THE GREAT REASONERS.</h3>
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>The</span> first class of souls are those who, after
-their conversion, give themselves up to meditation,
-or even to works of charity. They perform
-some exterior austerities; endeavour, little by little,
-to purify themselves, to rid themselves of certain
-notable sins, and even of voluntary venial ones.
-They endeavour, with all their little strength, to
-advance gradually, but it is feebly and slowly.</p>
-
-<p>As their source is not abundant, the dryness
-<a name="png.t.009" id="png.t.009"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">95</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>sometimes causes delay. There are even periods,
-in times of aridity, when they dry up altogether.
-They do not cease to flow from the source, but it
-is so feebly as to be barely perceptible. These
-rivers carry little or no merchandise, and, therefore,
-for the public need, it must be taken to them. It
-is necessary, at the same time, that art should assist
-nature, and find the means of enlarging them, either
-by canals, or by the help of other rivers of the
-same kind, which are joined together and united
-to it, which rivers thus joined increase the body
-of water, and, helping each other, put themselves in
-a condition to carry a few small boats, not to the
-sea, but to some of the chief rivers, of which we
-shall speak later. Such beings have usually little
-depth of spiritual life. They work outwardly, and
-rarely quit their meditations, so that they are not
-fit for great things. In general they carry no merchandise&mdash;that
-is to say, they can impart nothing to
-others; and God seldom uses them, unless it be to
-carry a few little boats&mdash;that is, to minister to bodily
-necessities; and in order to be used, they must be
-discharged into the canals of sensible graces, or
-<a name="png.t.010" id="png.t.010"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">96</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>united to some others in religion, by which means
-several, of medium grace, manage to carry the small
-boat, but not into the sea itself, which is God: into
-that they never enter in this life, but only in the
-next.</p>
-
-<p>It is not that souls are not sanctified in this
-way. There are many people, who pass for being
-very virtuous, who never get beyond it, God giving
-them lights conformed to their condition, which are
-sometimes very beautiful, and are the admiration
-of the religious world. The most highly favoured
-of this class are diligent in the practice of virtue;
-they devise thousands of holy inventions and practices
-to lead them to God, and to enable them to
-abide in His presence; but all is accomplished by
-their own efforts, aided and supported by grace, and
-their own works appear to exceed the work of God,
-His work only concurring with theirs.</p>
-
-<p>The spiritual life of this class only thrives in proportion
-to their work. If this work be removed, the
-progress of grace within them is arrested: they resemble
-pumps, which only yield water in proportion
-as they are agitated. You will observe in them a
-<a name="png.t.011" id="png.t.011"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">97</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>great tendency to assist themselves by means of their
-natural sensibilities, a vigorous activity, a desire to
-be always doing something more and something
-new to promote their perfection, and, in their seasons
-of barrenness, an anxiety to rid themselves of
-it. They are subject to great variation: sometimes
-they do wonders, at other times they languish and
-decline. They have no evenness of conduct, because,
-as the greater part of their religion is in
-these natural sensibilities, whenever it happens that
-their sensibilities are dry, either from want of work
-on their part, or from a lack of correspondence on
-the part of God, they fall into discouragement, or
-else they redouble their efforts, in the hope of recovering
-of themselves what they have lost. They
-never possess, like others, a profound peace or calmness
-in the midst of distractions; on the contrary,
-they are always on the alert to struggle against them
-or to complain of them.</p>
-
-<p>Such minds must not be directed to passive devotion;
-this would be to ruin them irrecoverably, taking
-from them their means of access to God. For as
-with a person who is compelled to travel, and who
-<a name="png.t.012" id="png.t.012"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">98</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>has neither boat nor carriage, nor any other alternative
-than that of going on foot, if you remove his
-feet, you place advancement beyond his reach; so
-with these souls; if you take away their works, which
-are their feet, they can never advance.</p>
-
-<p>And I believe this to be the cause of the contests
-which now agitate the religious world. Those who
-are in the <em>passive</em> way, conscious of the blessedness
-they experience in it, would compel all to walk with
-them; those, on the contrary, who are in what I
-have termed the state of <em>meditation</em>, would confine
-all to their way, which would involve inestimable
-loss.</p>
-
-<p>What must be done then? We must take the
-middle course, and see for which of the two ways
-souls are fitted.</p>
-
-<p>This may be known in some by the opposition
-they have to remaining at rest, and allowing themselves
-to be led by the Spirit of God; by a confusion
-of faults and defects into which they fall without
-being conscious of them; or, if they are possessed of
-natural prudence, by a certain skill in concealing their
-faults from others and from themselves; by their
-<a name="png.t.013" id="png.t.013"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">99</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>adherence to their sentiments, and by a number of other
-indications which cannot be explained.</p>
-
-<p>The way to deliver them from such a state would
-be, to lead them to live less in the intellect and more
-in the affections, and if it be manifest that they are
-gradually substituting the one for the other, it is a sign
-that a spiritual work is being carried on within them.</p>
-
-<p>I am at a loss to understand why so loud a cry is
-raised against those books and writers that treat of
-the inner life. I maintain that they can do no harm,
-unless it be to some who are willing to lose themselves
-for the sake of their own pleasure, to whom
-not only these things, but everything else, would be
-an injury: like spiders, which convert flowers into
-venom. But they can do no injury to those humble
-souls who are desirous for perfection, because it is
-impossible for any to understand them to whom the
-special light is not accorded; and whatever others
-may read, they cannot rightly understand those conditions
-which, being beyond the range of imagination,
-can be known only by experience. Perfection goes
-on with a steady advancement corresponding to the
-progress of the inner life.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.014" id="png.t.014"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">100</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>Not that there are no persons advanced in sanctification
-who have faults in appearance even greater
-than those of others, but they are not the same either
-as to their nature or their quality.</p>
-
-<p>The second reason why I say that such books can
-do no harm is, that they demand so much natural
-death, so much breaking off, so many things to be
-conquered and destroyed, that no one would ever
-have strength for the undertaking without sincerity
-of purpose; or even if any one undertook it, it would
-only produce the effect of <em>meditation</em>, which is to
-endeavour to destroy itself.</p>
-
-<p>As for those who wish to lead others in their
-groove, and not in God's, and to place limits to their
-further advancement&mdash;as for those, I say, who know
-but one way, and would have all the world to walk in
-it, the evils which they bring upon others are irremediable,
-for they keep them all their lives stopping
-at certain things which hinder God from blessing
-them infinitely.</p>
-
-<p>It seems to me that we must act in the divine life
-as in a school. The scholars are not kept always in
-the same class, but are passed on to others more
-<a name="png.t.015" id="png.t.015"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">101</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>advanced. O human science! you are so little worth,
-and yet with you men do not fail to take every precaution!
-O science mysterious and divine! you
-are so great and so necessary; and yet they neglect
-you, they limit you, they contract you, they do
-violence to you! Oh, will there never be a school of
-religion! Alas! by wishing to make it a study, man
-has marred it. He has sought to give rules and
-limits to the Spirit of God, who is without limit.</p>
-
-<p>O poor powerless souls! you are better fitted to
-answer God's purposes, and, if you are faithful, your
-devotion will be more pleasing to Him, than that of
-those great intellects which make prayer a study
-rather than a devotion. More than this, I say that
-such souls as these, who appear so powerless and so
-incapable, are worthy of consideration, provided they
-only knock at the door, and wait with a humble
-patience until it be opened to them. Those persons
-of great intellect and subtle understanding, who cannot
-remain a moment in silence before God, who
-make a continual Babel, who are so well able to give
-an account of their devotion in all its parts, who go
-through it always according to their own will, and
-<a name="png.t.016" id="png.t.016"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">102</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>with the same method, who exercise themselves as
-they will on any subject which suggests itself to them,
-who are so well satisfied with themselves and their
-light, who expatiate upon the preparation and the
-methods for prayer, will make but little advance in
-it; and after ten or twenty years of this exercise,
-will always remain the same.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">Alas! when it is a question of loving a miserable
-creature, do they use a method for that? The most
-ignorant in such a matter are the most skilful. It
-is the same, and yet very different, with divine love.
-Therefore, if one who has never known such religion
-comes to you to learn it, teach him to love God
-much, and to let himself go with a perfect abandonment
-into love, and he will soon know it. If it be a
-nature slow to love, let him do his best, and wait in
-patience till love itself make itself beloved in its own
-way, and not in yours.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.017" id="png.t.017"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">103</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER III.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">OF THE SECOND WAY OF THE RETURN OF THE SOUL TO GOD,
-WHICH IS THE PASSIVE WAY, BUT ONE OF LIGHT, AND OF
-TWO KINDS OF INTRODUCTION TO IT&mdash;DESCRIPTION OF
-THIS CLASS, AND OF THEIR STRIKING ADVANTAGES&mdash;VARIOUS
-NECESSARY PRECAUTIONS AND OBSERVATIONS
-CONCERNING THIS CLASS, THEIR CONDUCT, PERFECTIONS,
-IMPERFECTIONS, AND EXPERIENCES.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>The</span> second class are like those large rivers
-which move with a slow and steady course.
-They flow with pomp and majesty; their course is
-direct and easily followed; they are charged with
-merchandise, and can go on to the sea without mingling
-with other rivers; but they are late in reaching
-it, being grave and slow. There are even some who
-never reach it at all, and these, for the most part,
-lose themselves in other larger rivers, or else turn
-aside to some arm of the sea. Many of these
-rivers serve to carry merchandise, and are heavily
-laden with it. They may be kept back by sluices,
-<a name="png.t.018" id="png.t.018"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">104</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>and turned off at certain points. Such are the souls
-in the <em>passive way of sight</em>. Their strength is very
-abundant; they are laden with gifts, and graces, and
-celestial favours; they are the admiration of their
-<ins class="TNsilent" title="Transcriber's note:
- semicolon invisible in original">generation;</ins> and numbers of saints who shine as stars
-in the Church have never passed this limit. This
-class is composed of two kinds. The first commenced
-in the ordinary way, and have afterwards
-been drawn to passive contemplation. The others
-have been, as it were, taken by surprise; they have
-been seized by the heart, and they feel themselves
-loving without having learned to know the object
-of their love. For there is this difference between
-divine and human love, that the latter supposes a
-previous acquaintance with its object, because, as it
-is outside of it, the senses must be taken to it,
-and the senses can only be taken to it because
-it is communicated to them: the eyes see and the
-heart loves. It is not so with divine love. God,
-having an absolute power over the heart of man,
-and being its origin and its end, it is not necessary
-that He should make known to it what He is.
-He takes it by assault, without giving it battle. The
-<a name="png.t.019" id="png.t.019"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">105</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>heart is powerless to resist Him, even though He
-may not use an absolute and violent authority, unless
-it be in some cases where He permits it to be so,
-in order to manifest His power. He takes hearts,
-then, in this way, making them burn in a moment;
-but usually He gives them flashes of light which
-dazzle them, and lift them nearer to Himself.
-These persons appear much greater than those of
-whom I shall speak later, to those who are not
-possessed of a divine discernment, for they attain
-outwardly to a high degree of perfection, God
-eminently elevating their natural capacity, and replenishing
-it in an extraordinary manner; and yet
-they are never really brought to a state of annihilation
-to self, and God does not usually so draw
-them out of their own being that they become
-lost in Himself. Such characters as these are, however,
-the wonder and admiration of men. God
-bestows on them gifts upon gifts, graces upon
-graces, visions, revelations, inward voices, ecstasies,
-ravishments, &amp;c. It seems as though God's only
-care was to enrich and beautify them, and to communicate
-to them His secrets. All joys are theirs.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.020" id="png.t.020"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">106</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>This does not imply that they bear no heavy
-crosses, no fierce temptations: these are the shadows
-which cause their virtues to shine with greater
-brilliancy; for these temptations are thrust back
-vigorously, the crosses are borne bravely; they
-even desire more of them: they are all flame and
-fire, enthusiasm and love. God uses them to accomplish
-great things, and it seems as though they
-only need to desire a thing in order to receive it
-from God, He finding His delight in satisfying all
-their desires and doing all their will. Yet in the
-same path there are various degrees of progression,
-and some attain a far higher standard of perfection
-than others; their danger lies in fixing their thoughts
-upon what God has done for them, thus stopping
-at the gifts, instead of being led through them to
-the Giver.</p>
-
-<p>The design of God in the bestowal of His grace,
-and in the profusion with which He gives it, is to
-bring them nearer to Himself; but they make use
-of it for an utterly different end: they rest in it,
-reflect upon it, look at it, and appropriate it; and
-hence arise vanity, complaisance, self-esteem, the
-<a name="png.t.021" id="png.t.021"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">107</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>preference of themselves to others, and often the
-destruction of religious life. These people are
-admirable, in themselves considered; and sometimes
-by a special grace they are made very helpful to
-others, particularly if they have been brought from
-great depths of sin. But usually they are less
-fitted to lead others than those who come after; for
-being near to God themselves, they have a horror
-of sin, and often a shrinking from sinners, and
-never having experienced the miseries they see in
-others, they are astonished, and unable to render
-either help or advice. They expect too great perfection,
-and do not lead on to it little by little, and
-if they meet with weak ones, they do not aid them
-in proportion to their own advancement, or in
-accordance with God's designs, but often even seek
-to avoid them. They find it difficult to converse
-with those who have not reached their own level,
-preferring a solitary life to all the ministry of love.
-If such persons were heard in conversation by those
-not divinely enlightened, they would be believed
-equal to the last class, or even more advanced.
-They make use of the same terms&mdash;of <span class="allsc">DEATH</span>,
-<a name="png.t.022" id="png.t.022"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">108</span><span class="ns">]
- </span><span class="allsc">LOSS OF SELF</span>, <span class="allsc">ANNIHILATION</span>, &amp;c.; and it is quite true
-that they do die in their own way, that they are annihilated
-and lose themselves, for often their natural
-sensibilities are lost or suspended in their seasons
-of devotion; they even lose the habit of making use
-of them. Thus these souls are passive, but they
-have light, and love, and strength in themselves;
-they like to retain something of their own, it may
-be even their virtues, but in so delicate a form that
-only the Divine eye can detect it. Such as these
-are so laden with merchandise that their course is
-very slow. What must be done with them, then,
-to lead them out of this way? There is a more safe
-and certain path for them, even that of faith: they
-need to be led from the sensible to the supernatural,
-from that which is known and perceived to the
-very deep, yet very safe, darkness of faith. It is
-useless to endeavour to ascertain whether these
-things be of God or not, since they must be surpassed;
-for if they are of God, they will be carried
-on by Him, if only we abandon ourselves to Him;
-and if they are not of God, we shall not be deceived
-by them, if we do not stay at them.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.023" id="png.t.023"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">109</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>This class of people find far greater difficulty in
-entering the way of faith than the first, for as what
-they already possess is so great, and so evidently
-from God, they will not believe that there is anything
-higher in the Church of God. Therefore they
-cling to it.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">O God! how many spiritual possessions there are
-which appear great virtues to those who are not
-divinely enlightened, and which appear great and
-dangerous defects to those who are so! For those
-in this way regard as virtues what others look upon
-as subtle faults; and even the light to see them in
-their true colours is not given to them. These
-people have rules and regulations for their obedience,
-which are marked by prudence; they are
-strong and vigorous, though they appear dead.
-They are indeed dead as to their own wants, but
-not as to their foundation. Such souls as these
-often possess an inner silence, certain sinkings into
-God, which they distinguish and express well; but
-they have not that secret longing to be nothing,
-like the last class. It is true they desire to be
-nothing by a certain perceptible annihilation, a deep
-<a name="png.t.024" id="png.t.024"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">110</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>humility, an abasement under the immense weight
-of God's greatness. All this is an annihilation in
-which they dwell without being annihilated. They
-have the feeling of annihilation without the reality,
-for the soul is still sustained by its feelings, and
-this state is more satisfactory to it than any other,
-for it gives more assurance. This class usually are
-only brought into God by death, unless it be some
-privileged ones, whom God designs to be the lights
-of His Church, or whom He designs to sanctify
-more eminently; and such He robs by degrees
-of all their riches. But as there are few sufficiently
-courageous to be willing, after so much
-blessedness, to lose it all, few pass this point,
-God's intention perhaps being that they should not
-pass it, and that, as in the Father's house there are
-many mansions, they should only occupy this one.
-Let us leave the causes with God.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.025" id="png.t.025"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">111</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">OF THE THIRD WAY OF RETURN TO GOD, WHICH IS THE
-PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH, AND OF ITS FIRST DEGREE&mdash;DESCRIPTION
-OF THIS WAY UNDER THE SIMILITUDE OF
-A TORRENT&mdash;PROPENSITY OF THE SOUL TOWARDS GOD&mdash;ITS
-PROPERTIES, OBSTACLES, AND EFFECTS EXPLAINED
-BY THE SIMILITUDE OF FIRE&mdash;WHAT BEFALLS THE SOUL
-CALLED TO WALK IN THE PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH&mdash;DESCRIPTION
-OF THE FIRST DEGREE OF THIS THIRD
-WAY, AND OF THE STATE OF THE SOUL IN IT&mdash;THE REST
-IT FINDS IN IT WOULD BE HURTFUL IF GOD DID NOT
-DRAW IT OUT OF IT, IN ORDER TO FURTHER ITS ADVANCEMENT.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>What</span> shall we say of the souls in this <em>third way</em>,
-unless it be that they resemble <span class="allsc">TORRENTS</span>
-which rise in high mountains? They have their
-source in God Himself, and they have not a moment's
-rest until they are lost in Him. Nothing stops them,
-and no burdens are laid upon them. They rush on
-with a rapidity which alarms even the most confident.
-These torrents flow without order, here and there,
-<a name="png.t.026" id="png.t.026"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">112</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>wherever they can find a passage, having neither
-regular beds nor an orderly course. They sometimes
-become muddy by passing through ground which is
-not firm, and which they bear away with them by
-their rapidity. Sometimes they appear to be irrecoverably
-lost, then they reappear for a time, but it is
-only to precipitate themselves in another abyss, still
-deeper than the former one. It is the sport of these
-torrents to show themselves, to lose themselves, and
-to break themselves upon the rocks. Their course is
-so rapid as to be undiscernible; but finally, after
-many precipices and abysses, after having been dashed
-against rocks, and many times lost and found again,
-they reach the sea, where they are lost to be found
-no more. And there, however poor, mean, useless,
-destitute of merchandise the poor torrent may have
-been, it is wonderfully enriched, for it is not rich with
-its own riches, like other rivers, which only bear a
-certain amount of merchandise or certain rarities, but
-it is rich with the riches of the sea itself. It bears on
-its bosom the largest vessels; it is the sea which
-bears them, and yet it is the river, because the river,
-being lost in the sea, has become one with it.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.027" id="png.t.027"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">113</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>It is to be remarked, that the river or torrent thus
-precipitated into the sea does not lose its nature,
-although it is so changed and lost as not to be recognised.
-It will always remain what it was, yet its
-identity is lost, not as to reality, but as to quality; for
-it so takes the properties of salt water, that it has
-nothing peculiar to itself, and the more it loses itself
-and remains in the sea, the more it exchanges its own
-nature for that of the sea. For what, then, is not this
-poor torrent fitted? Its capacity is unlimited, since
-it is the same as that of the sea; it is capable of
-enriching the whole earth. O happy loss! who can
-set thee forth? Who can describe the gain which
-has been made by this useless and good-for-nothing
-river, despised and looked upon as a mad thing, on
-which the smallest boat could not be trusted, because,
-not being able to restrain itself, it would have dragged
-the boat with it. What do you say of the fate of this
-torrent, O great rivers! which flow with such majesty,
-which are the delight and admiration of the world,
-and glory in the quantity of merchandise spread out
-upon you? The fate of this poor torrent, which you
-regard with contempt, or at best with compassion,
-<a name="png.t.028" id="png.t.028"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">114</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>what has it become? What use can it serve now, or
-rather, what use can it not serve? What does it
-lack? You are now its servants, since the riches
-which you possess are only the overflow of its abundance,
-or a fresh supply which you are carrying
-to it.</p>
-
-<p>But before speaking of the happiness of a soul thus
-lost in God, we must begin with its origin and go on
-by degrees.</p>
-
-<p>The soul, as we have said, having proceeded from
-God, has a continual propensity to return to Him,
-because, as He is its origin, He is also its final end.
-Its course would be interminable if it were not arrested
-or interrupted by sin and unbelief. Therefore
-the heart of man is perpetually in motion, and can
-find no rest till it returns to its origin and its centre,
-which is God: like fire, which, being removed from
-its sphere, is in continual agitation, and does not rest
-till it has returned to it, and then, by a miracle of
-nature, this element, so active itself as to consume
-everything by its activity, is at perfect rest. O poor
-soul who are seeking happiness in this life! you will
-never find it out of God. Seek to return to Him:
-<a name="png.t.029" id="png.t.029"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">115</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>there all your longings and troubles, your agitations
-and anxieties, will be reduced to perfect rest.</p>
-
-<p>It is to be remarked, that in proportion as fire
-approaches its centre, it always approaches rest,
-although its swiftness increases. It is the same with
-the soul: as soon as sin ceases to hold it back, it
-seeks indefatigably to find God; and if it were not
-for sin, nothing could impede its course, which would
-be so speedy, that it would soon attain its end. But
-it is also true that, in proportion as it approaches
-God, its speed is augmented, and at the same time
-becomes more peaceful; for the rest, or rather the
-peace, since it is not at rest, but is pursuing a peaceful
-course, increases so that its peace redoubles its
-speed, and its speed increases its peace.</p>
-
-<p>The hindrances, then, arise from sins and imperfections,
-which arrest for a time the course of the soul,
-more or less, according to the magnitude of the fault.
-Then the soul is conscious of its activity, as though
-when fire was going on towards its centre, it encountered
-obstacles, such as pieces of wood or straw: it
-would resume its former activity in order to consume
-these obstacles or barriers, and the greater the
-<a name="png.t.030" id="png.t.030"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">116</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>obstacle the more its activity would increase. If it
-were a piece of wood, a longer and stronger activity
-would be needed to consume it; but if it were only a
-straw, it would be burned up in a moment, and
-would but very slightly impede its course. You will
-notice that the obstacles which the fire would
-encounter would only impart to it a fresh stimulus
-to surmount all which prevented its union with its
-centre; again, it is to be remarked, that the more
-obstacles the fire might encounter, and the more considerable
-they might be, the more they would retard
-its course; and if it were continually meeting with
-fresh ones, it would be kept back, and prevented
-from returning whence it came. We know by experience,
-that if we continually add fuel to fire, we shall
-keep it down, and prevent its rising. It is the same
-with the souls of men. Their instincts and natural
-propensities lead them towards God. They would
-advance incessantly, were it not for the hindrances
-they meet. These hindrances are sins and imperfections,
-which prove the greater obstacles in the
-way of their return to God, according as they are
-serious and lasting; so that if they continue in sin,
-<a name="png.t.031" id="png.t.031"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">117</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>they will never reach their end. Those, therefore,
-who have not sinned so grossly as others, should
-advance much more rapidly. This usually is the
-case, and yet it seems as though God took pleasure
-in making &ldquo;grace abound where sin has most
-abounded&rdquo; (Rom. v. 20). I believe that one of the
-reasons of this, to be found in those who have not
-grossly sinned, is their estimation of their own righteousness,
-and this is an obstacle more difficult to surmount
-then even the grossest sins, because we cannot
-have so great an attachment to sins which are
-so hideous in themselves, as we have to our own
-righteousness; and God, who will not do violence to
-liberty, leaves such hearts to enjoy their holiness at
-their own pleasure, while He finds His delight in
-purifying the most miserable. And in order to
-accomplish His purpose, He sends a stronger and
-fiercer fire, which consumes those gross sins more
-easily than a slower fire consumes smaller obstacles.
-It even seems as though God loved to set up His
-throne in these criminal hearts, in order to manifest
-His power, and to show how He can restore the disfigured
-soul to its original condition, and even make
-<a name="png.t.032" id="png.t.032"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">118</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>it more beautiful than it was before it fell. Those
-then who have greatly sinned, and for whom I now
-write, are conscious of a great fire consuming all their
-sins and hindrances; they often find their course impeded
-by besetting sins, but this fire consumes them
-again and again, till they are completely subdued.
-And as the fire thus goes on consuming, the obstacles
-are more and more easily surmounted, so that at last
-they are no more than straws, which, far from impeding
-its course, only make it burn the more fiercely.</p>
-
-<p>Let us then take the soul in its original condition,
-and follow it through its various stages, if God, who
-inspires these thoughts, which only occur to me as I
-write, wills that we should do so.</p>
-
-<p>As God's design for the soul is that it should be
-lost in Himself, in a manner unknown to ordinary
-Christians, He begins His work by imparting to it a
-sense of its distance from Him. As soon as it has
-perceived and felt this distance, the natural inclination
-which it has to return to its source, and which
-has been, as it were, deadened by sin, is revived.
-Then the soul experiences true sorrow for sin, and is
-painfully conscious of the evil which is caused by this
-<a name="png.t.033" id="png.t.033"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">119</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>separation from God. This sentiment thus implanted
-in the soul leads it to seek the means of ridding
-itself of this trouble, and of entering into a certain
-rest which it sees from afar, but which only redoubles
-its anxiety, and increases its desire to pursue it until
-it finds it.</p>
-
-<p>Some of those who are thus exercised, having never
-been taught that they must seek to have God within
-them, and not expect to find Him in outward righteousness,
-give themselves up to meditation, and seek
-without what can only be found within. This meditation,
-in which they seldom succeed, because God,
-who has better things in store for them, does not
-permit them to find any rest in such an experience,
-only serves to increase their longing; for their wound
-is at the heart, and they apply the plaster externally,
-which does but foster the disease, instead of healing
-it. They struggle a long time with this exercise, and
-their struggling does but increase their powerlessness;
-and unless God, who Himself assumes the charge of
-them, sends some messenger to show them a different
-way, they will lose their time, and will lose it just so
-long as they remain unaided. But God, who is
-<a name="png.t.034" id="png.t.034"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">120</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>abundant in goodness, does not fail to send them
-help, though it may be but passing and temporary.
-As soon, then, as they are taught that they cannot
-advance because their wound is an internal one, and
-they are seeking to heal it by external applications;
-when they are led to seek in the depths of their own
-hearts what they have sought in vain out of themselves;
-then they find, with an astonishment which
-overwhelms them, that they have within them a treasure
-which they have been seeking far off. Then
-they rejoice in their new liberty; they marvel that
-prayer is no longer a burden, and that the more they
-retire within themselves, the more they taste of a
-certain mysterious something which ravishes them
-and carries them away, and they would wish ever to
-love thus, and thus to be buried within themselves.
-Yet what they experience, delightful as it may appear,
-does not stop them, if they are to be led into pure
-faith, but leads them to follow after something more,
-which they have not yet known. They are now all
-ardour and love. They seem already to be in Paradise;
-for what they possess within themselves is
-infinitely sweeter than all the joys of earth: these
-<a name="png.t.035" id="png.t.035"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">121</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>they can leave without pain; they would leave the
-whole world to enjoy for one hour their present
-experience. They find that prayer has become their
-continual attitude; their love increases day by day,
-so that their one desire is always to love and never
-to be interrupted. And as they are not now strong
-enough to be undisturbed by conversation, they shun
-and fear it; they love to be alone, and to enjoy the
-caresses of their Beloved. They have within themselves
-a Counsellor, who lets them find no pleasure in
-earthly things, and who does not suffer them to commit
-a single fault, without making them feel by His
-coldness how much sin is displeasing to Him. This
-coldness of God, in times of transgression, is to them
-the most terrible chastisement. It seems as though
-God's only care were to correct and reprove them, and
-His one purpose to perfect them. It is a surprise to
-themselves and to others that they change more in a
-month by this way, and even in a day, than in several
-years by the other. O God! it belongs only to Thee
-to correct and to purify the hearts of Thy children!</p>
-
-<p>God has yet another means of chastising the soul,
-when it is further advanced in the divine life, by
-<a name="png.t.036" id="png.t.036"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">122</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>making Himself more fully known to it after it falls;
-then the poor soul is covered with confusion; it
-would rather bear the most severe chastisement than
-this goodness of God after it has sinned.</p>
-
-<p>These persons are now so full of their own feelings
-that they want to impart them to others; they long
-to teach the whole world to love God; their sentiments
-towards Him are so deep, so pure, and so disinterested,
-that those who hear them speak, if they
-are not divinely enlightened, believe them to have
-attained the height of perfection. They are fruitful
-in good works; there is no reasoning here, nothing
-but a deep and burning love. The soul feels itself
-seized and held fast by a divine force which ravishes
-and consumes it. It is like intoxicated persons, who
-are so possessed with wine that they do not know
-what they are doing, and are no longer masters of
-themselves. If such as these try to read, the book
-falls from their hands, and a single line suffices them;
-they can hardly get through a page in a whole day,
-however assiduously they may devote themselves to
-it, for a single word from God awakens that secret
-instinct which animates and fires them, so that love
-<a name="png.t.037" id="png.t.037"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">123</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>closes both their mouth and their eyes. They cannot
-utter verbal prayers, being unable to pronounce them.
-A heart which is unaccustomed to this does not know
-what it means; for it has never experienced anything
-like it before, and it does not understand why it cannot
-pray, and yet it cannot resist the power which
-overcomes it. It cannot be troubled, nor be fearful
-of doing wrong, for He who holds it bound does not
-permit it either to doubt that it is He who thus holds
-it, or to strive against it, for if it makes an effort to
-pray, it feels that He who possesses it closes its lips,
-and compels it, by a sweet and loving violence, to be
-silent. Not that the creature cannot resist and speak
-by an effort, but besides doing violence to himself he
-loses this divine peace, and feels that he is becoming
-dry: he must allow himself to be moved upon by
-God at His will, and not in his own way. The soul
-in this state imagines itself to be in an inward silence,
-because its working is so gentle, so easy, and so quiet
-that it does not perceive it. It believes itself to have
-reached the summit of perfection, and it sees nothing
-before it but enjoyment of the wealth it possesses.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">These Christians, so ardent and so desirous after
-<a name="png.t.038" id="png.t.038"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">124</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>God, begin to rest in their condition, and gradually and
-insensibly to lose the loving activity in seeking after
-God which formerly characterised them, being satisfied
-with their joy which they substituted for God
-Himself; and this rest would be to them an irreparable
-loss, if God, in His infinite goodness, did not
-draw them out of this state to lead them into one
-more advanced. But before speaking of it, let us
-look at the imperfections of this stage.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.039" id="png.t.039"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">125</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER V.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">IMPERFECTIONS, INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR, OF THIS FIRST
-DEGREE&mdash;MISTAKES THAT ARE MADE IN IT&mdash;ITS PASSIVITY&mdash;SPIRITUAL
-DRYNESS, MINGLED WITH A TENDER
-BUT SELF-INTERESTED LOVE, WHICH NEEDS THE
-EXPERIENCE AND PURIFICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING
-DEGREE.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>The</span> soul in the degree of which I have just spoken
-can and does make great advances, going from
-love to love, and from cross to cross; but it falls so
-frequently, and is so selfish, that it may be said to
-move only at a snail's pace, although it appears to
-itself and to others to progress infinitely. The torrent
-is now in a flat country, and has not yet found
-the slope of the mountain down which it may precipitate
-itself, and take a course which is never to be
-stopped.</p>
-
-<p>The faults of those in this degree are a certain self-esteem,
-more hidden and deeply rooted than it was
-<a name="png.t.040" id="png.t.040"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">126</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>before they had received these graces and favours
-from God; a certain secret contempt for others whom
-they see so far behind themselves, and a certain hardness
-for sin and sinners; a zeal of St John before the
-descent of the Holy Ghost, when he wanted to call
-down fire from heaven upon the Samaritans to consume
-them; a certain confidence in their own safety
-and virtue; a secret pride, which causes them to
-grieve specially over the faults which they commit in
-public: they appropriate the gifts of God, and treat
-them as though they were their own: they forget
-weakness and poverty in the strength which they
-possess; so that they lose all self-distrust. Though
-all this and much more is to be found in persons in
-this degree, they are themselves unconscious of it;
-but these faults will make themselves known in time.
-The grace which they feel so strongly in themselves
-being an assurance to them that they have nothing to
-fear, they allow themselves to speak without being
-divinely commissioned. They are anxious to communicate
-what they feel to every one else. It is true
-that they are of use to others, for their burning words
-take hold of the hearts of those who hear them; but
-<a name="png.t.041" id="png.t.041"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">127</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>apart from the fact that they cannot do the good they
-would do, if God would have them impart to others
-what they have received, they are giving out of their
-necessity and not of their abundance; so that they
-exhaust themselves; as you have seen several pools
-of water under a fountain. The fountain alone gives
-out of its abundance, and the pools only send into
-each other of the fulness which is communicated to
-them; but if the fountain be closed or turned aside,
-and the pools cease to overflow, then as they are cut
-off from the source, they dry up. This is precisely
-what happens to those in this degree. They want to
-be constantly sending out their waters, and it is not
-till late that they perceive that the water which they
-had was only for themselves, and that they are not in
-a state to communicate it, because they are not connected
-with the source. They are like bottles of
-scent which are left open: they find so much sweetness
-in the odour which they emit that they do not
-perceive the loss they themselves sustain. Yet they
-appear to practise virtue without any effort, since they
-are occupied only with a general love, without reason
-or motive. If you ask them what they do during
-<a name="png.t.042" id="png.t.042"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">128</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>the day, they will tell you that they love; but if you
-ask why they love, they will tell you that they do not
-know; they only know that they love, and that they
-burn with desire to suffer for the object of their love.
-You may ask if it is not the sight of the sufferings of
-their Beloved which inspires them with the longing to
-suffer with Him, but they will reply that the thought
-of His sufferings did not even enter their mind.
-Neither is it the desire to imitate the virtues which
-they see in Him, for they do not think of them, nor
-the sight of His beauty which enraptures them, for
-they do not look at it. Only they feel in the depths
-of their heart a deep wound, yet so delightful that
-they rest in their pain, and find their pleasure in their
-grief.</p>
-
-<p>They believe now that they have arrived at the
-consummation of all, for though they are full of
-the faults I have mentioned, and many others yet
-more dangerous, which are better perceived in the
-following degree than in this, they rest in their
-fancied perfection, and stopping at the means,
-which they mistake for the end, they would remain
-stationary, if God did not bring the torrent, which
-<a name="png.t.043" id="png.t.043"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">129</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>is now like a peaceful lake on a mountain-top, to
-the brow of the hill in order to precipitate it, and
-to start it on a course which will be more or less
-rapid according to the depth of its fall.</p>
-
-<p>It appears to me that even the most advanced
-in this degree have a habit of concealing their
-faults, both from themselves and others, always
-finding excuses and extenuations; not designedly,
-but from a certain love of their own excellence,
-and a habitual dissimulation under which they hide
-themselves. The faults which cause them the deepest
-solicitude are those which are most apparent to
-others. They have a hidden love of self, stronger
-than ever, an esteem for their own position, a
-secret desire to attract attention, an affected
-modesty, a facility in judging others, and a preference
-for private devotion rather than domestic
-duties, which renders them the cause of many of
-the sins of those around them. This is of great
-importance. The soul, feeling itself drawn so strongly
-and sweetly, desires to be always alone and in
-prayer, which gives rise to two evils&mdash;the first, that
-in its seasons of greatest liberty it spends too
-<a name="png.t.044" id="png.t.044"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">130</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>much time in solitude; the second, that when its
-vigour of love is exhausted, as it often is in this
-way, it has not the same strength in times of dryness;
-it finds it difficult to remain so long in prayer;
-it readily shortens the time; its thoughts wander
-to exterior objects; then it is discouraged and cast
-down, thinking that all is lost, and does everything
-in its power to restore itself to the presence
-and favour of God.</p>
-
-<p>But if such persons were strong enough to live
-an even life, and not to seek to do more in seasons
-of abundance than in times of barrenness,
-they would satisfy every one. As it is, they are
-troublesome to those around them, to whom they
-cannot condescend, making it a favour to lay
-themselves out for the satisfaction of others: they
-preserve an austere silence when it is unnecessary,
-and at other times talk incessantly of the things of
-God. A wife has scruples about pleasing her husband,
-entertaining him, walking with him, or seeking to
-amuse him, but has none about speaking uselessly for
-two hours with religious devotees. This is a horrible
-abuse. We ought to be diligent in the discharge
-<a name="png.t.045" id="png.t.045"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">131</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>of all duties, whatever their nature may be; and
-even if they do cause us inconvenience, we shall
-yet find great profit in doing this, not perhaps in
-the way we imagine, but in hastening the crucifixion
-of self. It even seems as though our Lord
-shows that such sacrifice is pleasing to Him by
-the grace which He sheds upon it. I knew a lady
-who, when playing at cards with her husband in
-order to please him, experienced such deep and
-intimate communion with God as she never felt in
-prayer, and it was the same with everything she
-did at her husband's desire; but if she neglected
-these things for others which she thought better,
-she was conscious that she was not walking in the
-will of God. This did not prevent her often committing
-faults, because the attractions of meditation
-and the happiness of devotion, which are
-preferred to these apparent losses of time, insensibly
-draw the soul away, and lead it to change
-its course, and this by most people is looked upon
-as sanctity. However, those who are to be taught
-the way of faith are not suffered long to remain
-in these errors, because, as God designs to lead
-<a name="png.t.046" id="png.t.046"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">132</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>them on to better things, He makes them conscious
-of their deficiency. It often happens, too,
-that persons by means of this death to self, and
-acting contrary to their natural inclinations, feel
-themselves more strongly drawn to their inward rest;
-for it is natural to man to desire most strongly
-what it is most difficult for him to obtain, and to
-desire most intensely those things which he most
-earnestly resolves to avoid. This difficulty of being
-able to enjoy only a partial rest increases the rest,
-and causes them even in activity to feel themselves
-acted upon so powerfully that they seem to have
-two souls within them, the inner one being infinitely
-stronger than the outer. But if they leave
-their duties in order to give the time to devotion,
-they will find it an empty form, and all its joy
-will be lost. By devotion I do not mean compulsory
-prayer, which is gone through as a duty
-that must not be avoided; neither do I understand
-by activity the labours of their own choice, but
-those which come within the range of positive
-duty. If they have spare time at their disposal, by
-all means let them spend it in prayer; nor must
-<a name="png.t.047" id="png.t.047"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">133</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>they lay upon themselves unnecessary burdens, and
-call them obligations. When the taste for meditation
-is very great, the soul does not usually fall
-into these last-named errors, but rather into the
-former one, that of courting retirement. I knew a
-person who spent more time in prayer when it was
-painful to her than when she felt it a delight,
-struggling with the disinclination; but this is injurious
-to the health, because of the violence which
-it does to the senses and the understanding, which
-being unable to concentrate themselves upon any
-one object, and being deprived of the sweet communion
-which formerly held them in subjection to
-God, endure such torment, that the subject of it
-would rather suffer the greatest trial than the
-violence which is necessary to enable it to fix its
-thoughts on God. The person to whom I alluded
-sometimes passed two or three hours successively
-in this painful devotion, and she has assured me
-that the strangest austerities would have been delightful
-to her in comparison with the time thus
-spent. But as a violence so strong as this in subjects
-so weak is calculated to ruin both body and
-<a name="png.t.048" id="png.t.048"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">134</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>mind, I think it is better not in any way to regulate
-the time spent in prayer by our varying
-emotions. This painful dryness of which I have
-spoken belongs only to the first degree of faith,
-and is often the effect of exhaustion; and yet
-those who have passed through it imagine themselves
-dead, and write and speak of it as the most
-sorrowful part of the spiritual life. It is true they
-have not known the contrary experience, and often
-they have not the courage to pass through this,
-for in this sorrow the soul is deserted by God,
-who withdraws from it His sensible helps, but it is
-nevertheless caused by the senses, because, being
-accustomed to see and to feel, and never having
-experienced a similar privation, they are in despair,
-which however is not of long duration, for the
-forces of the soul are not then in a state to bear
-for long such a pressure; it will either go back
-to seek for spiritual food, or else it will give
-all up. This is why the Lord does not fail to
-return: sometimes He does not even suffer the
-prayer to cease before He reappears; and if
-He does not return during the hour of prayer,
-<a name="png.t.049" id="png.t.049"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">135</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>He comes in a more manifest way during the
-day.</p>
-
-<p>It seems as though He repented of the suffering
-He has caused to the soul of His beloved, or that
-He would pay back with usury what she has suffered
-for His love. If this consolation last for many
-days, it becomes painful. She calls Him sweet
-and cruel: she asks Him if He has only wounded
-her that she may die. But this kind Lover laughs
-at her pain, and applies to the wound a balm so
-sweet, that she could ask to be continually receiving
-fresh wounds, that she might always find a
-new delight in a healing which not only restores
-her former health, but imparts one yet more abundant.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">Hitherto it has only been a play of love, to
-which the soul would easily become accustomed if
-her Beloved did not change His conduct. O poor
-hearts who complain of the flights of love! You
-do not know that this is only a farce, an attempt,
-a specimen of what is to follow. The hours of
-absence mark the days, the weeks, the months,
-and the years. You must learn to be generous at
-<a name="png.t.050" id="png.t.050"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">136</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>your own expense, to suffer your Beloved to come
-and go at His pleasure. I seem to see these
-young brides. They are at the height of grief when
-their Beloved leaves them: they mourn His absence
-as if it were death, and endeavour, as far as
-they can, to prevent His departure. This love
-appears deep and strong, but it is not so by any
-means. It is the pleasure they derive from the
-sight of their Beloved which they mourn after. It
-is their own satisfaction they seek, for if it were
-the pleasure of their Beloved, they would rejoice
-in the pleasure which He found apart from them,
-as much as in that which He found with them.
-So it is self-interested love, though it does not
-appear such to them; on the contrary, they believe
-that they only love Him for what He is. It is true,
-poor souls, you do love Him for what He is, but
-you love Him because of the pleasure you find in
-what He is. You reply that you are willing to
-suffer for your Beloved. True, provided He will
-be the witness and the companion of your suffering.
-You say you desire no recompense. I agree; but
-you do desire that He should know of your suffering,
-<a name="png.t.051" id="png.t.051"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">137</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>and approve of it. You want Him to take
-pleasure in it. Is there anything more plausible
-than the desire that He for whom we suffer should
-know it, and approve of it, and take delight in it?
-Oh, how much you are out in your reckoning!
-Your jealous Lover will not permit you to enjoy
-the pleasure which you take in seeing His satisfaction
-with your sorrow. You must suffer without
-His appearing to see it, or to approve of it, or to
-know it. That would be too great a gratification.
-What pain would we not suffer on such conditions!
-What! to know that our Beloved sees our
-woes, and takes an infinite pleasure in them!
-This is too great a pleasure for a generous heart!
-Yet I am sure the greatest generosity of those in
-this degree never goes beyond this. But to suffer
-without our Beloved being aware of it, when He
-seems to despise what we do to please Him, and
-to turn away from it; to have only scorn for what
-formerly seemed to charm Him; to see Him repay
-with a terrible coldness and distance what we do
-for His sake alone, and with terrible flights all our
-pursuit of Him; to lose without complaint all that
-<a name="png.t.052" id="png.t.052"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">138</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>He had formerly given as pledges of His love,
-and which we think we have repaid by our love,
-our fidelity, and our suffering; not only uncomplainingly
-to suffer ourselves to be thus despoiled,
-but to see others enriched with our spoils, and
-nevertheless not to cease to do what would please
-our absent Lover; not to cease following after Him;
-and if by unfaithfulness or surprise we stop for a
-moment, to redouble our speed, without fearing or
-contemplating the precipices, although we fall a
-thousand times, till we are so weary that we lose
-our strength, and die from continual fatigue; when,
-perhaps, if our Beloved turns and looks upon us,
-His glance restores life by the exquisite pleasure
-it gives; until at last He becomes so cruel that
-He lets us die for want of help: all this, I say,
-belongs not to this state, but to that which follows.
-I must remark here, that the degree of which I
-have been speaking is of very long duration, at
-least unless God intends the soul to make great
-advances; and many, as I have said, never pass it.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.053" id="png.t.053"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">139</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">SECOND DEGREE OF THE PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH&mdash;SHORT
-DESCRIPTION OF THIS DEGREE&mdash;ENTRANCE INTO IT AND
-USELESS EFFORTS TO AVOID IT&mdash;GRADATIONS AND
-ADVANCEMENTS IN THIS DEGREE, IN WHICH OCCUR
-FREQUENT MANIFESTATIONS OF CHRIST TO THE SOUL&mdash;THE
-USES AND ABUSES WHICH IT MAKES OF THEM, BY
-WHICH IT IS BROUGHT TO MYSTICAL DEATH, OR TO THE
-THIRD DEGREE OF THIS PASSIVE WAY <span class="nw">OF FAITH</span>.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>The</span> torrent having come to the brow of the
-hill, enters at the same time into the <em>second
-degree of the passive way of faith</em>. This soul, which
-was so peacefully resting on the mountain-top, had
-no thought of leaving it. However, for want of a
-declivity, these waters of Heaven by their stay
-upon earth were becoming tainted; for there is this
-difference between stagnant waters which have no
-outlet, and those which are in motion and have an
-outlet, that the first, with the exception of the sea,
-and those large lakes which resemble it, grow
-putrid, and their want of motion causes their destruction.
-<a name="png.t.054" id="png.t.054"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">140</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>But when, after leaving their source, they
-have an easy outlet, the more rapidly they flow, the
-more they are preserved.</p>
-
-<p>You will remember I remarked before of this
-soul, that as soon as God imparted to it the gift of
-<em>passive</em> faith, He gave it at the same time an
-instinct to seek after Him as its centre; but in its
-unfaithfulness it stifles by its repose this instinct to
-seek God, and would remain stationary, if God did
-not revive this instinct by bringing it to the edge
-of the mountain, whence it is compelled to precipitate
-itself. At first it is sensible that it has lost
-that calmness which it expected to retain for ever.
-Its waters, formerly so tranquil, begin to be noisy.
-A tumult is seen in its waves; they run and dash
-over. But where do they run? Alas! as they
-imagine, it is to their own destruction. If it were
-in their power to desire anything, they would wish
-to restrain themselves, and return to their former
-calm. But this is impossible. The declivity is
-found; they must be precipitated from slope to
-slope. It is no longer a question of abyss or of
-loss. The water, that is the soul, always reappears,
-<a name="png.t.055" id="png.t.055"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">141</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>and is never lost in this degree. It is embroiled
-and precipitated; one wave follows another, and the
-other takes it up and crashes it by its precipitation.
-Yet this water finds on the slope of the mountain
-certain flat places where it takes a little relaxation.
-It delights in the clearness of its waters; and it
-sees that its falls, its course, this breaking of its
-waves upon the rocks, have served to render it
-more pure. It finds itself delivered from its noise
-and storms, and thinks it has now found its resting-place;
-and it believes this the more readily because
-it cannot doubt that the state through which it has
-just passed has greatly purified it, for it sees that
-its waters are clearer, and it no longer perceives
-the disagreeable odour which certain stagnant parts
-had given to it on the top of the mountain; it has
-even acquired a certain insight into its own condition;
-it has seen by the troubled state of its
-passions (the waves) that they were not lost, but
-only asleep. As when it was descending the mountain,
-on its way to this level, it thought it was
-losing its way, and had no hope of recovering its
-lost peace, so now that it no longer hears the dash
-<a name="png.t.056" id="png.t.056"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">142</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>of its waves, that it finds itself flowing calmly and
-pleasantly along the sand, it forgets its former
-trouble, and never imagines there will be a return
-of it: it sees that it has acquired fresh purity, and
-does not fear that it will again become soiled; for
-here it is not stagnant, but flows as gently and
-brightly as possible. Ah, poor torrent! You think
-you have found your resting-place, and are firmly
-established in it! You begin to delight in your
-waters. The swans glide upon them, and rejoice
-in their beauty. But what is your surprise while,
-as you are flowing along so happily, you suddenly
-encounter a steeper slope, longer and more dangerous
-than the first! Then the torrent recommences its
-tumult. Formerly it was only a moderate noise;
-now it is insupportable. It descends with a crash
-and a roar greater than ever. It can hardly be
-said to have a bed, for it falls from rock to rock,
-and dashes down without order or reason; it alarms
-every one by its noise; all fear to approach it. Ah,
-poor torrent! what will you do? You drag away
-in your fury all that comes in your way; you feel
-nothing but the declivity down which you are
-<a name="png.t.057" id="png.t.057"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">143</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>hurried, and you think you are lost. Nay, do not
-fear; you are not lost, but the time of your happiness
-is not yet come. There must be many more
-disturbances and losses before then; you have but
-just commenced your course.</p>
-
-<p>At last this dashing torrent feels that it has gained
-the foot of the mountain and another level spot.
-It resumes its former calm, and even a deeper one;
-and after having passed it may be years in these
-changes, it enters the third degree, before speaking
-of which I will touch upon the condition of those
-who enter it, and the first steps in it. The soul
-having passed some time in the tranquillity of which
-we have spoken, which it imagines it has secured
-for ever, and having, as it supposes, acquired all
-the virtues in their full extent, believing all its
-passions to be dead; when it is expecting to enjoy
-with the greatest safety a happiness it has no fear
-of losing, is astonished to find that, instead of mounting
-higher, or at least remaining in its present position,
-it comes to the slope of the mountain. It
-begins, to its amazement, to be sensible of an inclination
-for the things it had given up. It sees
-<a name="png.t.058" id="png.t.058"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">144</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>its deep calm suddenly disturbed; distractions
-come in crowds, one upon another; the soul finds
-only stones in its path, dryness and aridity. A
-feeling of distaste comes into prayer. Its passions,
-which it thought were dead, but which were only
-asleep, all revive.</p>
-
-<p>It is completely astonished at this change. It
-would like either to return to the top of the mountain,
-or at least to remain where it is; but this
-cannot be. The declivity is found, and the soul
-must fall (not into sin, but into a privation of the
-previous degree and of feeling). It does its best
-to rise after it falls; it does all in its power to
-restrain itself, and to cling to some devotional
-exercise; it makes an effort to recover its former
-peace; it seeks solitude in the hope of recovering
-it. But its labour is in vain. It resigns itself to
-suffer its dejection, and hates the sin which has
-occasioned it. It longs to put things right, but
-can find no means of doing it; the torrent must
-go on its way; it drags with it all that is opposed
-to it. Then, seeing that it no longer finds support
-in God, it seeks it in the creature; but it finds
-<a name="png.t.059" id="png.t.059"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">145</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>none; and its unfaithfulness only increases its
-apprehension. At last, the poor bride, not knowing
-what to do, weeping everywhere the loss of her
-Beloved, is filled with astonishment when He again
-reveals Himself to her. At first she is charmed
-at the sight, as she feared she had lost Him for
-ever. She is all the more happy, because she finds
-that He has brought with Him new wealth, a new
-purity, a great distrust of self. She has no longer
-the desire to stop, as she formerly had; she goes
-on continuously, but peacefully and gently, and yet
-she has fears lest her peace should be disturbed.
-She trembles lest she should again lose the treasure
-which is all the dearer to her because she had
-been so sensible of its loss. She is afraid she may
-displease Him, and that He will leave her again.
-She tries to be more faithful to Him, and not to
-make an end of the means.</p>
-
-<p>However, this repose carries away the soul,
-ravishes it, and renders it idle. It cannot help
-being sensible of its peace, and it desires to be
-always alone. It has again acquired a spiritual
-greediness. To rob it of solitude is to rob it of
-<a name="png.t.060" id="png.t.060"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">146</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>life. It is still more selfish than before, what it
-possesses being more delightful. It seems to be
-in a new rest. It is going along calmly, when all
-at once it comes to another descent, steeper and
-longer than the former one. It is suddenly seized
-with a fresh surprise; it endeavours to hold itself
-back, but in vain; it must fall; it must dash on
-from rock to rock. It is astonished to find that
-it has lost its love for prayer and devotion. It does
-violence to itself by continuing in it. It finds only
-death at every step. That which formerly revived
-it is now the cause of its death. Its peace has
-gone, and has left a trouble and agitation stronger
-than ever, caused as much by the passions, which
-revive (though against its will) with the more
-strength as they appeared the more extinct, as by
-crosses, which increase outwardly, and which it has
-no strength to bear. It arms itself with patience;
-it weeps, groans, and is troubled. The Bride
-complains that her Beloved has forsaken her; but
-her complaints are unheeded. Life has become
-death to her. All that is good she finds difficult,
-but has an inclination towards evil which draws
-<a name="png.t.061" id="png.t.061"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">147</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>her away. But she can find no rest in the creature,
-having tasted of the Creator. She dashes on more
-vehemently; and the steeper the rocks, and the
-greater the obstacles which oppose her course, the
-more she redoubles her speed. She is like the
-dove from the ark, which, finding no rest for the
-sole of its foot, was obliged to return. But alas!
-what could the poor dove have done if, when it
-desired to re-enter the ark, Noah had not put out
-his hand to take it in? It could only have fluttered
-round about the ark, seeking rest but finding none.
-So this poor dove flutters round the ark till the Divine
-Noah, having compassion on her distress, opens
-the door and receives her to Himself. Oh, wonderful
-and loving invention of the goodness of God! He
-only eludes the search of the soul to make it flee
-more quickly to Him. He hides Himself that He
-may be sought after. He apparently lets her fall,
-that He may have the joy of sustaining her and
-raising her up. Oh, strong and vigorous ones, who
-have never experienced these artifices of love, these
-apparent jealousies, these flights, lovely to the soul
-which has passed them, but terrible to those who
-<a name="png.t.062" id="png.t.062"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">148</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>experience them! You, I say, who do not know
-these flights of love, because you are satisfied with
-the abiding presence of your Beloved; or, if He
-hide Himself, it is for so short a time that you
-cannot judge of the joy of His presence by the
-pain of a long absence; you have never experienced
-your weakness, and your need of His help; but
-those who are thus forsaken learn to lean no
-longer on themselves, but only on the Beloved.
-His rigours have rendered His gentleness the more
-needful for them.</p>
-
-<p>These persons often commit faults through sheer
-weakness, and because they are deprived of all sensible
-support; and these faults so fill them with
-shame, that, if they could, they would hide themselves
-from their Beloved. Alas! in the terrible
-confusion into which they are thrown, He gives them
-a glimpse of Himself. He touches them with His
-sceptre, like another Ahasuerus (Esther v. 2), that
-they may not die; but His tender caresses only
-serve to increase their confusion at the thought of
-having displeased Him. At other times He makes
-them sensible, by His severity, how much their
-<a name="png.t.063" id="png.t.063"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">149</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>unfaithfulness displeases Him. Oh! then if they could
-sink into dust, they would. They would do anything
-to repair the injury done to God; and if, by any
-slight neglects, which appear crimes to them, they
-have offended their neighbour, what return are they
-not willing to make? But it is pitiful to see the
-state of that one who has driven away her Beloved.
-She does not cease to run after Him, but the faster
-she goes, the further He seems to leave her behind;
-and if He stops, it is only for a moment,
-that she may recover breath. She feels now that
-she must die; for she no longer finds life in anything;
-all has become death to her; prayer, reading,
-conversation&mdash;all is dead: she loses the joy of
-service, or rather, she dies to it, performing it with
-so much pain and weariness, that it is as death to
-her. At last, after having fought well, but uselessly,
-after a long succession of conflicts and rest,
-of lives and deaths, she begins to see how she has
-abused the grace of God, and that this state of
-death is better for her than life; for as she sees
-her Beloved returning, and finds that she possesses
-Him more purely, and that the state which
-<a name="png.t.064" id="png.t.064"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">150</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>preceded her rejoicing was a purification for her, she
-abandons herself willingly to <em>death</em>, and to the
-coming and going of her Beloved, giving Him full
-liberty to go and come as He will. She receives
-instruction as she is able to bear it. Little by
-little she loses her joy in herself, and is thus prepared
-for a new condition.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">But before speaking of it, let me say, that in
-proportion as the soul advances, its joys become
-short, simple, and pure, and its privations long and
-agonising, until it has lost its <em>own</em> joy, to find it no
-more: and this is the <em>third degree</em>, that of <em>death</em>,
-<em>burial</em>, and <em>decay</em>. This second degree ends in
-death, and goes no further.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.065" id="png.t.065"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">151</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER VII.<br
- /><span class="smc ls0">Section I</span>.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">THIRD DEGREE OF THE PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH, IN ITS
-COMMENCEMENT, AND ITS PROGRESS BY VARIOUS SPECIAL
-DEATHS TO A TOTAL DEATH, TO BURIAL, AND TO DECAY&mdash;DURATION
-OF THIS TRANSITION, IN WHICH THERE
-MUST BE NO ADVANCEMENT BEYOND FAITH, NOR ANY
-RECEDING&mdash;SPOLIATION OF THE SOUL, AND THE THREE
-DEGREES OF IT&mdash;FIRST DEGREE, WHICH CONCERNS GIFTS,
-GRACES, AND FAVOURS, OR ORNAMENTS&mdash;ITS NECESSITY
-<span class="nw">AND EFFECTS</span>.</h3>
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>You</span> have seen dying persons who, after they
-have been believed to be dead, have all at
-once assumed a new strength, and retained it until
-their death; as a lamp whose oil is spent flickers
-in the surrounding darkness, but only to die out
-the more quickly: thus the soul casts out flames,
-which only last for a moment. It has bravely resisted
-death; but its oil is spent: the Sun of Righteousness
-has so withered it up, that it is forced to
-<a name="png.t.066" id="png.t.066"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">152</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>die. But does this Sun design anything else with
-its fierce rays, except the consumption of the soul?
-And the poor soul thus burned thinks that it is
-frozen! The truth is, that the torment it suffers
-prevents its recognising the nature of its pain. So
-long as the Sun was obscured by clouds, and gave
-out rays to a certain extent moderated, it felt the
-heat, and thought it was burning, while in reality it
-was but slightly warmed: but when the Sun flashed
-full upon it, then the soul felt itself burning, without
-believing that it was so much as warmed. O loving
-deceit! O sweet and cruel Love! Have you lovers
-only to deceive them thus? You wound these hearts,
-and then hide your darts, and make them pursue
-after that which has wounded them. You attract
-them, and show yourself to them, and when they long
-to possess you, you flee from them. When you see
-the soul reduced to the last extremity, and out of
-breath from its constant pursuit, you show yourself
-for a moment that it may recover life, only to be
-killed a thousand times with ever-increasing severity.</p>
-
-<p>O rigorous Lover! innocent murderer! Why
-dost Thou not kill with a single blow? Why give
-<a name="png.t.067" id="png.t.067"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">153</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>wine to an expiring heart, and restore life in order
-to destroy it afresh? This is Thy sport. Thou
-woundest to the death; and when Thou seest the
-victim on the point of expiring, Thou healest one
-wound in order to inflict another! Alas! usually
-we die but once; and the very cruellest murderers
-in times of persecution, though they prolonged life,
-it is true, yet were content to destroy it but once.
-But Thou, less compassionate than they, takest away
-our life time after time, and restorest it again.</p>
-
-<p>O life, which cannot be lost without so many
-deaths! O death, which can only be attained by
-the loss of so many lives! Perhaps this soul, after
-thou hast devoured it in Thy bosom, will enjoy its
-Beloved. That would be too great happiness for it:
-it must undergo another torture. It must be <em>buried</em>
-and reduced to <em>ashes</em>. But perhaps it will then
-arrive at the end of its sufferings, for bodies which
-decay suffer no longer. Oh! it is not thus with the
-soul: it suffers continually; and burial, decay, and
-nothingness are even more sensibly felt by it than
-death itself.</p>
-
-<p>This degree of <em>death</em> is extremely long, and as I
-<a name="png.t.068" id="png.t.068"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">154</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>have said that very few pass the other degrees, so
-I say that far less pass this one. Many people
-have been astonished to see very holy persons, who
-have lived like angels, die in terrible anguish, and
-even despairing of their salvation. It is because
-they have died in this mystical death; and as God
-wished to promote their advancement, because they
-were near their end, He redoubled their sorrow.
-The work of stripping the soul must be left wholly
-to God. He will do the work perfectly, and the
-soul will second the spoliation and the death, without
-putting hindrances in the way. But to do the
-work for ourselves is to lose everything, and to
-make a vile state of a divine one. There are persons
-who, hearing of this spoliation, have effected
-it for themselves, and remain always stationary; for
-as the stripping is their own work, God does not
-clothe them with Himself. The design of God in
-stripping the soul is to clothe it again. He only
-impoverishes that He may enrich, and He substitutes
-<em>Himself</em> for all that He takes away, which
-cannot be the case with those whose spoliation is
-their own work. They indeed lose the gifts of
-<a name="png.t.069" id="png.t.069"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">155</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>God, but they do not possess God Himself in exchange.</p>
-
-<p>In this degree the soul has not learned to let
-itself be stripped, emptied, impoverished, killed;
-and all its efforts to sustain itself will but be its
-irreparable loss, for it is seeking to preserve a life
-which must be lost. As a person wishing to cause
-a lamp to die out without extinguishing it, would
-only have to cease to supply it with oil, and it
-would die out of itself; but if this person, while
-persistently expressing a wish that the lamp should
-go out, continued replenishing it with oil from time
-to time, the lamp would never go out: it is the
-same with the soul in this degree, which holds on,
-however feebly, to life. If it consoles itself, does
-not suffer itself to be killed, in a word, if it performs
-any actions of life whatever, it will thereby
-retard its death. O poor soul! fight no longer
-against death, and you will live by your death. I
-seem to see a drowning man before me; he makes
-every effort to rise to the surface of the water; he
-holds on to anything that offers itself to his grasp;
-he preserves his life so long as his strength holds
-<a name="png.t.070" id="png.t.070"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">156</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>out; he is only drowned when that strength fails.
-It is thus with Christians. They endeavour as long
-as possible to prevent their death; it is only the
-failure of all power which makes them die. God,
-who wishes to hasten this death, and who has
-compassion upon them, cuts off the hands with
-which they cling to a support, and thus obliges
-them to sink into the deep. Crosses become multiplied,
-and the more they increase, the greater is
-the helplessness to bear them, so that they seem as
-though they never could be borne. The most painful
-part of this condition is, that the trouble always
-begins by some fault in the sufferer, who believes
-he has brought it upon himself.</p>
-
-<p>At last the soul is reduced to utter self-despair.
-It consents that God should deprive it of the joy
-of His gifts, and admits that He is just in doing it.
-It does not even hope to possess these gifts again.</p>
-
-<p>When those who are in this condition see others
-who are manifestly living in communion with God,
-their anguish is redoubled, and they sink in the
-sense of their own nothingness. They long to be
-able to imitate them, but finding all their efforts
-<a name="png.t.071" id="png.t.071"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">157</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>useless, they are compelled to die. They say in
-the language of Scripture, &ldquo;The thing which I
-greatly feared is come upon me&rdquo; (Job iii. 25).
-What! they say, to lose God, and to lose Him
-for ever, without the hope of ever finding Him
-again! To be deprived of love for time and for
-eternity! To be unable to love Him whom I
-know to be so worthy of my affection!</p>
-
-<p>Oh! is it not sufficient, Divine Lover, to cast off
-your spouse, to turn away from her, without compelling
-her to lose love, and lose it, as it seems,
-for ever? She believes she has lost it, and yet she
-never loved more strongly or more purely. She
-has indeed lost the vigour, the sensible strength of
-love; but she has not lost love itself; on the contrary,
-she possesses it in a greater degree than ever.
-She cannot believe this, and yet it is easily known;
-for the heart cannot exist without love. If it does
-not love God, its affection is concentrated upon
-some other object: but here the bride of Christ is
-far from taking pleasure in anything. She regards
-the revolt of her passions and her involuntary faults
-as terrible crimes, which draw upon her the hatred
-<a name="png.t.072" id="png.t.072"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">158</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>of her Beloved. She seeks to cleanse and to purify
-herself, but she is no sooner washed than she seems
-to fall into a slough yet more filthy and polluted
-than that from which she has just escaped. She
-does not see that it is because she runs that she
-contracts defilement, and falls so frequently, yet she
-is so ashamed to run in this condition, that she
-does not know where to hide herself. Her garments
-are soiled; she loses all she has in the race.</p>
-
-<p>Her Bridegroom aids in her spoliation for two
-reasons: the first, because she has soiled her beautiful
-garments by her vain complaisances, and has
-appropriated the gifts of God in reflections of self-esteem.
-The second, because in running, her course
-will be impeded by this burden of appropriation;
-even the fear of losing such riches would lessen her
-speed.</p>
-
-<p>O poor soul! what art thou become? Formerly
-thou wast the delight of thy Bridegroom, when He
-took such pleasure in adorning and beautifying thee;
-now thou art so naked, so ragged, so poor, that
-thou darest neither to look upon thyself nor to
-appear before Him. Those who gaze upon thee,
-<a name="png.t.073" id="png.t.073"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">159</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>who, after having so much admired thee, see thee
-now so disfigured, believe that either thou hast
-grown mad, or that thou hast committed some
-great crime, which has caused thy Beloved to abandon
-thee. They do not see that this jealous Husband,
-who desires that His bride should be His
-alone, seeing that she is amusing herself with her
-ornaments, that she delights in them, that she is in
-love with herself; seeing this, I say, and that she
-sometimes ceases looking at Him in order to look
-at herself, and that her love to Him is growing
-cold because her self-love is so strong, is stripping
-her, and taking away all her beauties and riches
-from before her eyes.</p>
-
-<p>In the abundance of her wealth, she takes delight
-in contemplating herself: she sees good qualities in
-herself, which engage her affection, and alienate it
-from her Bridegroom. In her foolishness she does
-not see that she is only fair with the beauties of
-her Beloved; and that if He removed these, she
-would be so hideous that she would be frightened
-at herself. More than this, she neglects to follow
-Him wherever He goes; she fears lest she may
-<a name="png.t.074" id="png.t.074"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">160</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>spoil her complexion, or lose her jewels. O
-jealous Love! how well is it that thou comest to
-chastise this proud one, and to take from her what
-Thou hast given, that she may learn to know herself,
-and that, being naked and destitute, nothing may
-impede her course.</p>
-
-<p>Thus, then, our Lord strips the soul little by
-little, robbing her of her ornaments, all her gifts,
-positions, and favours&mdash;that is, as to her perception or
-conscious possession of them&mdash;which are like jewels
-that weigh her down; then He takes away her
-natural capacity for good, which are her garments;
-after which He destroys her personal beauty, which
-sets forth divine virtue, which she finds it impossible
-to practise.</p>
-
-<p>This spoliation commences with the graces, gifts,
-and favours of conscious love. The bride sees that
-her husband takes from her, little by little, the riches
-He had bestowed upon her. At first she is greatly
-troubled by this loss; but what troubles her the
-most, is not so much the loss of her riches, as the
-anger of her Beloved; for she thinks it is in anger
-that He thus takes back His gifts. She sees the
-<a name="png.t.075" id="png.t.075"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">161</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>abuse she had made of them, and the delight she
-had been taking in them, which so fills her with
-shame that she is ready to die of confusion. She
-lets Him do as He will, and dares not say, &ldquo;Why
-dost Thou take from me what Thou hast given?&rdquo;
-for she sees that she deserves it, and looks on in
-silence.</p>
-
-<p>Though she keeps silence, it is not so profound
-now as afterwards; it is broken by mingled sobs
-and sighs. But she is astonished to find, when she
-looks at her Bridegroom, that He appears to be
-angry with her for weeping over His justice towards
-her, in no longer allowing her the opportunity of
-abusing His gifts, and for thinking so lightly of the
-abuse she has made of them. She tries then to
-let Him know that she does not care about the
-loss of His gifts, if only He will cease His anger
-towards her. She shows Him her tears and her
-grief at having displeased Him. It is true that she
-is so sensible of the anger of her Beloved that she
-no longer thinks of her riches. After allowing her
-to weep for a long time, her Lover appears to be
-appeased. He consoles her, and with His own
-<a name="png.t.076" id="png.t.076"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">162</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>hand He dries her tears. What a joy it is to her
-to see the new goodness of her Beloved, after what
-she has done! Yet He does not restore her former
-riches, and she does not long for them, being only
-too happy to be looked upon, consoled, and caressed
-by Him. At first she receives His caresses with
-so much confusion, that she dare not lift her eyes,
-but forgetting her past woes in her present happiness,
-she loses herself in the new caresses of her Beloved,
-and thinking no more of her past miseries, she glories
-and rests in these caresses, and thereby compels the
-Bridegroom to be angry again, and to despoil her
-anew.</p>
-
-<p>It must be observed that God despoils the loss
-little by little; and the weaker the souls may be, the
-longer the spoliation continues; while the stronger
-they are, the sooner it is completed, because God
-despoils them oftener and of more things at once.
-But however rough this spoliation may be, it only
-touches superfluities on the outside, that is to say,
-gifts, graces, and favours.</p>
-
-<p>This leading of God is so wonderful, and is the
-result of such deep love to the soul, that it would
-<a name="png.t.077" id="png.t.077"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">163</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>never be believed, except by those who have experienced
-it; for the heart is so full of itself, and so
-permeated with self-esteem, that if God did not treat
-it thus, it would be lost.</p>
-
-<p>It will perhaps be asked, If the gifts of God are
-productive of such evil consequences, why are they
-given? God gives them, in the fulness of His
-goodness, in order to draw the soul from sin, from
-attachment to the creature, and to bring it back to
-Himself. But these same gifts with which He
-gratifies it&mdash;that He may wean it from earth and
-from self to love Him, at least from gratitude&mdash;we
-use to excite our self-love and self-admiration, to
-amuse ourselves with them; and self-love is so
-deeply rooted in man, that it is augmented by these
-gifts; for he finds in himself new charms, which he
-had not discovered before; he delights in them, and
-appropriates to himself what belongs only to God. It
-is true, God could deliver him from it, but He does
-not do it, for reasons known only to Himself. The
-soul, thus despoiled by God, loses a little of its self-love,
-and begins to see that it was not so rich as it
-fancied, but that all its virtue was in Christ; it sees
-<a name="png.t.078" id="png.t.078"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">164</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>that it has abused His grace, and consents that He
-should take back His gifts. The bride says, &ldquo;I shall
-be rich with the riches of my Bridegroom, and
-though He may keep them, yet, from my union in
-heart and will with Him, they will still be mine.&rdquo;
-She is even glad to lose these gifts of God; she
-finds herself unencumbered, better fitted for walking.
-Gradually she becomes accustomed to this spoliation;
-she knows it has been good for her; she is
-no longer grieved because of it; and, as she is so
-beautiful, she satisfies herself that she will not cease
-to please her Bridegroom by her natural beauty and
-her simple garments, as much as she could with all
-her ornaments.</p>
-
-
-<h2 class="chap smc ls0">Section II.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">SECOND DEGREE OF THE SPOLIATION OF THE SOUL, AS TO ITS
-GARMENTS, OR ITS FACILITY FOR THE EXTERIOR PRACTICE
-OF VIRTUE&mdash;ITS CAUSES, WHICH ARE THE APPROPRIATION
-OF THESE VIRTUES, AND SATISFACTION IN
-THEM, INSTEAD OF THE RECOGNITION OF NATURAL HELPLESSNESS,
-AND ABSENCE OF ALL GOOD <span class="nw">IN SELF</span>.</h3>
-
-<p>When the poor bride is expecting always to live
-in peace, in spite of this loss, and sees clearly the
-<a name="png.t.079" id="png.t.079"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">165</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>good which has resulted to her from it, and the
-harm she had done to herself by the bad use which
-she had made of the gifts which now have been
-taken from her, she is completely astonished to
-find that the Bridegroom, who had only given her
-temporary peace because of her weakness, comes
-with yet greater violence to tear off her clothing
-from her.</p>
-
-<p>Alas, poor bride! what wilt thou do now? This
-is far worse than before, for these garments are
-necessary to her, and it is contrary to all propriety
-to suffer herself to be stripped of them. Oh! it
-is now that she makes all the resistance in her
-power. She brings forward all the reasons why her
-Bridegroom should not thus leave her naked: she
-tells Him that it will bring reproach upon Himself.
-&ldquo;Alas!&rdquo; she cries, &ldquo;I have lost all the virtues
-which Thou hast bestowed upon me, Thy gifts, the
-sweetness of Thy love! But still I was able to
-make an outward profession of virtue; I engaged in
-works of charity; I prayed assiduously, even though
-I was deprived of Thy sensible benefits: but I cannot
-consent to lose all this. I was still clothed
-<a name="png.t.080" id="png.t.080"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">166</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>according to my position, and looked upon by the
-world as Thy bride: but if I lose my garments, it
-will bring shame upon Thee.&rdquo; &ldquo;It matters not, poor
-soul; thou must consent to this loss also: thou
-dost not yet know thyself; thou believest that thy
-raiment is thine own, and that thou canst use it as
-thou wilt. But though I acquired it at such a cost,
-thou hast given it back to me as if it were a recompense
-on thy part for the labours I have endured
-for Thee. Let it go; thou must lose it.&rdquo; The soul
-having done its best to keep it, lets it go, little by
-little, and finds itself gradually despoiled. It finds
-no inclination for anything; on the contrary, all is
-distasteful to it. Formerly it had aversions and
-difficulties, without absolute powerlessness; but here
-all power is taken from it: its strength of body and
-mind fails entirely; the inclination for better things
-alone remains, and this is the last robe, which must
-finally be lost.</p>
-
-<p>This is done very gradually, and the process is
-extremely painful, because the bride sees all the
-while that it has been caused by her own folly.
-She dares not speak, lest she may irritate the
-<a name="png.t.081" id="png.t.081"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">167</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>Bridegroom, whose anger is worse to her than death.
-She begins to know herself better, to see that she is
-nothing in herself, and that all belongs to her Bridegroom.
-She begins to distrust herself, and, little by
-little, she loses her self-esteem.</p>
-
-<p>But she does not yet hate herself, for she is still
-beautiful, though naked. From time to time she
-casts a pitiful look towards the Bridegroom, but
-she says not a word: she is grieved at His anger.
-It seems to her that the spoliation would be of
-little moment if she had not offended Him, and if
-she had not rendered herself unworthy to wear her
-nuptial robes.</p>
-
-<p>If she was confused when at the first her riches
-were taken from her, her confusion at the sight of
-her nakedness is infinitely more painful. She cannot
-bear to appear before her Bridegroom, so deep is
-her shame. But she must remain, and run hither
-and thither in this state. What! is it not even
-permitted to her to hide herself? No; she must
-appear thus in public. The world begins to think
-less highly of her. It says, &ldquo;Is this that bride who
-was once the admiration of angels and of men?
-<a name="png.t.082" id="png.t.082"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">168</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>See how she has fallen!&rdquo; These words increase
-her confusion, because she is well aware that her
-Bridegroom has dealt justly with her. She does
-what she can to induce Him to clothe her a little,
-but He will do nothing, after having thus stripped
-her of all, for her garments would satisfy her by
-covering her, and would prevent her seeing herself
-as she is.</p>
-
-<p>It is a great surprise to a soul that thinks itself
-far advanced towards perfection to see itself thus
-despoiled all at once. It imagines the old sins,
-from which it was once purged, must have returned.
-But it is mistaken: the secret is, that she was so
-hidden by her garments as to be unable to see
-what she was. It is a terrible thing for a soul to
-be thus stripped of the gifts and graces of God, and
-it is impossible that any should know or imagine
-what it is without the actual experience of it.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap smc ls0"><a name="png.t.083" id="png.t.083"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">169</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>Section III.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">THIRD DEGREE OF THE SPOLIATION OF THE SOUL, WHICH
-CONCERNS ITS BEAUTY, OR THE PERCEPTIBLE ACTION OF
-DIVINE VIRTUE&mdash;HOW GOD THUS LEADS THE SOUL TO
-SELF-DESPAIR AND TO TRUE PURITY&mdash;INTERVAL OF REST,
-FOLLOWED BY THE INCREASE OF THE PRECEDING OPERATIONS,
-TILL THEY END IN MYSTIC DEATH.</h3>
-
-
-<p>All this would be but little if the bride still retained
-her beauty; but the Bridegroom robs her of
-that also. Hitherto she has been despoiled of
-gifts, graces, and favours (facility for good): she
-has lost all good works, such as outward charity,
-care for the poor, readiness to help others, but she
-has not lost the divine virtues. Here, however,
-these too must be lost, so far as their practice is
-concerned, or rather the habit of exercising them,
-as acquired by herself, in order to appear fair: in
-reality, they are all the while being more strongly
-implanted. She loses virtue as virtue, but it is only
-that she may find it again in <span class="smc">Christ</span>. This degraded
-bride becomes, as she imagines, filled with pride.
-She, who was so patient, who suffered so easily,
-finds that she can suffer nothing. Her senses revolt
-<a name="png.t.084" id="png.t.084"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">170</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>her by continual distractions. She can no longer
-restrain herself by her own efforts, as formerly; and
-what is worse, she contracts defilement at every step.
-She complains to her Beloved that the watchmen
-that go about the city have found her and wounded
-her (Cant. v. 7). I ought, however, to say that
-persons in this condition do not sin willingly. God
-usually reveals to them such a deep-seated corruption
-within themselves, that they cry with Job,
-&ldquo;Oh, that Thou wouldest hide me in the grave, that
-Thou wouldest keep me in secret, until Thy wrath
-be past!&rdquo; (Job xiv. 13).</p>
-
-<p>It must not be supposed that either here or at
-any other stage of progress God suffers the soul
-really to fall into sin; and so truly is this the case,
-that though they appear in their own eyes the most
-miserable sinners, yet they can discover no definite sin
-of which they are guilty, and only accuse themselves
-of being full of misery, and of having only sentiments
-contrary to their desires. It is to the glory of God
-that, when He makes the soul most deeply conscious
-of its inward corruption, He does not permit
-it to fall into sin. What makes its sorrow so terrible
-<a name="png.t.085" id="png.t.085"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">171</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>is, that it is overwhelmed with a sense of the purity
-of God, and that purity makes the smallest imperfection
-appear as a heinous sin, because of the
-infinite distance between the purity of God and
-the impurity of the creature. The soul sees that
-it was originally created pure by God, and that it
-has contracted not only the original sin of Adam,
-but thousands of actual sins, so that its confusion
-is greater than can be expressed. The reason
-why Christians in this condition are despised by
-others, is not to be found in any particular faults
-which are observed in them, but because, as they
-no longer manifest the same ardour and fidelity
-which formerly distinguished them, the greatness of
-their fall is judged from this, which is a great mistake.
-Let this serve to explain or modify any statements
-or representations in the sequel, which may
-appear to be expressed too strongly, and which those
-who do not understand the experience might be
-liable to misinterpret. Observe, also, that when I
-speak of <em>corruption</em>, of <em>decay</em>, &amp;c., I mean the destruction
-of the old man by the central conviction,
-and by an intimate experience of the depth of
-<a name="png.t.086" id="png.t.086"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">172</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>impurity and selfishness which there is in the heart of
-man, which, bringing him to see himself as he is apart
-from God, causes him to cry with David, &ldquo;I am a
-worm and no man&rdquo; (Ps. xxii. 6), and with Job, &ldquo;If
-I wash myself with snow water, and make my hands
-never so clean, yet shalt Thou plunge me in the
-ditch, and mine own clothes shall abhor me&rdquo; (Job
-ix. 30, 31).</p>
-
-<p>It is not, then, that this poor bride commits the
-faults of which she imagines herself guilty, for in
-heart she was never purer than now; but her
-senses and natural powers, particularly the senses,
-being unsupported, wander away. Besides which,
-as the speed of her course towards God redoubles,
-and she forgets herself more, it is not to be
-wondered at that in running she soils herself in
-the muddy places through which she passes; and
-as all her attention is directed towards her Beloved,
-although she does not perceive it by reason of her
-own condition, she thinks no more of herself, and
-does not notice where she steps. So that, while
-believing herself most guilty, she does not willingly
-commit a single sin; though all her sins appear
-<a name="png.t.087" id="png.t.087"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">173</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>voluntary to herself, they are rather faults of surprise,
-which often she does not see until after they
-are committed. She cries to her Bridegroom, but
-He does not heed her, at least not perceptibly,
-though He sustains her with an invisible hand.
-Sometimes she tries to do better, but then she
-becomes worse; for the design of her Bridegroom
-in letting her fall <em>without wounding herself</em> (Ps.
-xxxvii. 24) is that she should lean no longer on
-herself; that she should recognise her helplessness;
-that she should sink into complete self-despair;
-and that she should say, &ldquo;My soul chooseth death
-rather than life&rdquo; (Job vii. 15). It is here that the
-soul begins truly to <em>hate itself</em> and to <em>know itself</em>
-as it would never have done if it had not passed
-through this experience.</p>
-
-<p>All our natural knowledge of self, whatever may
-be its degree, is not sufficient to cause us really to
-hate ourselves. &ldquo;He that loveth his life shall lose
-it; and he that hateth his life in this world, shall
-keep it unto life eternal&rdquo; (John xii. 25). It is
-only such an experience as this which can reveal
-to the soul its infinite depth of misery. No other
-<a name="png.t.088" id="png.t.088"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">174</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>way can give true purity; if it give any at all, it
-is only superficial, and not in the depth of the
-heart, where the impurity is seated.</p>
-
-<p>Here God searches the inmost recesses of the
-soul for that hidden impurity which is the effect of
-the self-esteem and self-love which He designs to
-destroy. Take a sponge which is full of impurities,
-wash it as much as you will, you will clean
-the outside, but you will not render it clean
-throughout unless you press it, in order to squeeze
-out all the filth. This is what God does. He
-squeezes the soul in a painful manner, but He brings
-out from it that which was the most deeply hidden.</p>
-
-<p>I say, then, that this is the only way in which
-we can be purified radically; and without it we
-should always be filthy, though outwardly we might
-appear very clean. It is necessary that God should
-make the soul thoroughly sensible of its condition.
-We could never believe, without the experience, of
-what nature left to itself is capable. Yes, indeed,
-our own being, abandoned to itself, is worse than
-all devils. Therefore we must not believe that the
-soul in this state of misery is abandoned by God.
-<a name="png.t.089" id="png.t.089"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">175</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>It was never better sustained; but nature is, as it
-were, left a little alone, and makes all these
-ravages without the soul in itself taking any part
-in them. This poor desolate bride, running hither
-and thither in search of her Beloved, not only
-soils herself grievously, as I have said, by falling
-into faults of surprise and self-esteem, but she
-wounds herself with the thorns that come in her
-way. She becomes so wearied at length that she
-is forced to die in her race for want of help; that is,
-to expect nothing from herself or her own activity.</p>
-
-<p>That which is productive of the highest good to
-the soul in this condition is that God manifests
-no pity towards it; and when He desires to promote
-its advancement, He lets it run even to
-death; if He stops it for a moment, by doing
-which He ravishes and revives it, it is because of
-its weakness, and in order that its weariness may
-not compel it to rest.</p>
-
-<p>When He sees that it is becoming disheartened
-and inclined to give up the race altogether, He
-looks upon it for a moment, and the poor bride
-finds herself wounded anew by this look. She
-<a name="png.t.090" id="png.t.090"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">176</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>would willingly say to Him, &ldquo;Alas! why hast
-Thou thus compelled me to run? Oh, that I could
-find Thee; and see Thee face to face!&rdquo; But
-alas! when she seems to lay hold of Him, He
-flees from her again. &ldquo;I sought Thee,&rdquo; she cries,
-&ldquo;but I found Thee not&rdquo; (Cant. iii. 1).</p>
-
-<p>As this look from her Bridegroom has increased
-her love, she redoubles her speed in order to find
-Him: nevertheless she was delayed just so long as
-the look lasted, that is, in sensible joy. This is why
-the Bridegroom does not often cast such looks upon
-her, and only when He sees that her courage is failing.</p>
-
-<p>The soul then dies at the end of its race, because
-all its active strength is exhausted; for
-though it had been passive, it had not lost its
-active strength, though it had been unconscious
-of it. The bride said, &ldquo;Draw me, we will run
-after thee&rdquo; (Cant. i. 3). She ran indeed, but
-how? By the loss of all; as the sun travels incessantly,
-yet without quitting his repose. In this
-condition she so hates herself, that she can hardly
-suffer herself. She thinks her Bridegroom has good
-reason to treat her as He does, and that it is His
-<a name="png.t.091" id="png.t.091"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">177</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>indignation against her which makes Him leave
-her. She does not see that it is in order to make
-her run that He flees, that it is in order that He
-may purify her that He suffers her to become so
-soiled. When we put iron in the fire, to purify it
-and to purge it from its dross, it appears at first
-to be tarnished and blackened, but afterwards it
-is easy to see that it has been purified. Christ
-only makes His bride experience her own weakness,
-that she may lose all strength and all support
-in herself, and that, in her self-despair, He may
-carry her in His arms, and she may be willing to
-be thus borne; for whatever her course may be,
-she walks as a child; but when she is in God,
-and is borne by Him, her progress is infinite, since
-it is that of God Himself.</p>
-
-<p>In addition to all this degradation, the bride sees
-others adorned with her spoils. When she sees a
-holy soul, she dare not approach it; she sees it
-adorned with all the ornaments which her Bridegroom
-has taken from her; but though she admires it, and
-sinks into the depths of nothingness, she cannot
-desire to have these ornaments again, so conscious
-<a name="png.t.092" id="png.t.092"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">178</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>is she of her unworthiness to wear them. She thinks
-it would be a profanation to put them upon a person
-so covered with mud and defilement. She even rejoices
-to see that, if she fills her Beloved with horror,
-there are others in whom He can take delight, and
-whom she regards as infinitely happy in having
-gained the love of her God: as for the ornaments,
-though she sees others decorated with them, she does
-not suppose that these are the sources of their happiness.
-If she sees any blessedness in the possession
-of them, it is because they are the tokens of the love
-of her Beloved. When she is thus sensible of her
-littleness in the presence of such as these, whom she
-regards as queens, she does not know the good which
-will result to her from this nakedness, death, and
-decay. Her Bridegroom only unclothes her that He
-may be Himself her clothing: &ldquo;Put ye on the Lord
-Jesus Christ,&rdquo; says St Paul (Rom. xiii. 14). He only
-kills her that He may be her life: &ldquo;If we be dead
-with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with
-Him.&rdquo; He only annihilates her that she may be transformed
-in Himself.</p>
-
-<p>This loss of virtue is only brought about by
-<a name="png.t.093" id="png.t.093"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">179</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>degrees, as well as the other losses, and this apparent
-inclination for evil is involuntary; for that evil
-which makes us so vile in our own eyes is really no
-evil at all.</p>
-
-<p>The things which bring defilement to these persons
-are certain faults which only lie in the feelings. As
-soon as they see the beauty of a virtue, they seem
-to be incessantly falling into the contrary vice: for
-example, if they love truth, they speak hastily or with
-exaggeration, and fancy they lie at every moment,
-although in fact they do but speak against their
-sentiments; and it is thus with all the other virtues;
-the more important these virtues are, and the more
-strongly they cling to them, because they appear the
-more essential, the greater is the force with which
-they are torn from them.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap smc ls0">Section IV.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">ENTRANCE OF THE SOUL INTO MYSTIC DEATH, AS TO ITS
-SENSIBILITIES, POWERS, AND EVEN ITS PERCEIVED
-FOUNDATION&mdash;IMPORTANT OBSERVATIONS ON THIS CONDITION.</h3>
-
-
-<p>This poor soul, after having lost its all, must at
-last lose <em>its own life</em> by an utter self-despair, or
-<a name="png.t.094" id="png.t.094"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">180</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>rather it must die worn out by terrible fatigue.
-Prayer in this degree is extremely painful, because
-the soul being no longer able to make use of its own
-powers, of which it seems to be entirely deprived,
-and God having taken from it a certain sweet and
-profound calm which supported it, is left like those
-poor children whom we see running here and there
-in search of bread, yet finding no one to supply their
-need, so that the power of prayer seems to be as
-entirely lost as if we had never possessed it; but
-with this difference, that we feel the pain occasioned
-by the loss, because we have proved its value by its
-possession, while others are not sensible of the loss,
-because they have never known its enjoyment. The
-soul, then, can find no support in the creature; and
-if it feels itself carried away by the things of earth, it
-is only by impetuosity, and it can find nothing to
-satisfy it. Not that it does not seek to abandon
-itself to the things in which it formerly delighted; but
-alas! it finds in them nothing but bitterness, so that
-it is glad to leave them again, taking nothing back
-but sadness at its own unfaithfulness.</p>
-
-<p>The <em>imagination</em> goes altogether astray, and is
-<a name="png.t.095" id="png.t.095"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">181</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>scarcely ever at rest. The three powers of the soul,
-the <em>understanding</em>, the <em>memory</em>, and the <em>will</em>, by degrees
-lose their life, so that at length they become altogether
-dead, which is very painful to the soul, especially as
-regards the will, which had been tasting I know not
-what of sweetness and tranquillity, which comforted
-the other powers in their deadness and powerlessness.</p>
-
-<p>This unexplainable something which sustains the
-soul at its foundation, as it were, is the hardest of all
-to lose, and that which the soul endeavours the most
-strenuously to retain; for as it is too delicate, so it
-appears the more divine and necessary: it would consent
-willingly to be deprived of the two other powers,
-and even of the will, so far as it is a distinct and
-perceived thing, if only this something might be left;
-for it could bear all its labours if it may have within
-itself the witness that it is born of God.</p>
-
-<p>However, this must be lost, like the rest&mdash;that is,
-as to the sentiment&mdash;and then the soul enters into the
-sensible realisation of all the misery with which it is
-filled. And it is this which really produces <em>the
-spiritual death</em>; for whatever misery the soul might
-endure, if this, I know not what, were not lost, it
-<a name="png.t.096" id="png.t.096"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">182</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>would not die; and if, on the other hand, this were
-lost without the soul being conscious of its misery,
-it would be supported, and would not die. It can
-easily understand that it must give up all dependence
-upon its own feelings or upon any natural support,
-but to lose an almost imperceptible comfort, and to
-fall from weakness, to fall into the mire, to this it cannot
-consent. This is where reason fails, this is where
-terrible fears fill the heart, which seems to have only
-sufficient life to be sensible of its death.</p>
-
-<p>It is, then, the loss of this imperceptible support,
-and the experience of this misery, which causes death.</p>
-
-<p>We should be very careful, in such times as these,
-not to let our senses be led away willingly to creatures,
-seeking willingly consolation and diversion. I say
-<em>willingly</em>, for we are incapable of mortifications and
-attentions reflected upon ourselves, and the more
-we have mortified ourselves, the stronger will be
-the bearing in the contrary direction, without being
-aware of it; like a madman, who goes wandering
-about, if you attempt to keep him too rigorously
-within bounds, apart from its being useless, it would
-retard his death.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.097" id="png.t.097"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">183</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>What must we do then? We must be careful to
-give no support to the senses, to suffer them, and to
-let them find recreation in innocent ways; for as they
-are not capable of an inward operation, by endeavouring
-to restrain them we should injure health,
-and even mental strength. What I say applies only
-to this degree; for if we were to make this use of
-the senses in the time of the strength and activity
-of grace, we should do wrong; and our Lord Himself
-in His goodness makes us see the conduct that
-we should pursue; for at first, He puts such a pressure
-on the senses, they have no liberty. They only
-have to desire something in order to be deprived
-of it; God orders it thus that the senses may be
-drawn from their imperfect operation, to be confined
-within the heart; and in severing them outwardly,
-He binds them inwardly so gently, that it costs them
-little to be deprived of everything; they even find
-more pleasure in this deprivation than in the possession
-of all things. But when they are sufficiently
-purified, God, who wishes to draw the soul out of
-itself with a contrary movement, permits the senses
-to expand outwardly, which appears to the soul as
-<a name="png.t.098" id="png.t.098"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">184</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>a great impurity. However, it has now happened
-seasonably, and to endeavour to order things otherwise,
-would be to purify ourselves in a different way
-from that which God desires, and therefore to defile
-ourselves anew.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">This does not prevent our making mistakes in
-this outward development of the senses; but the
-confusion which it occasions us, and our fidelity in
-making use of it, is the furnace in which we are
-most quickly purified, by dying the soonest to ourselves.
-It is here also that we lose the esteem of
-men. They look on us with contempt, and say,
-&ldquo;Are not these the persons whom we formerly
-admired? How are they become thus disfigured?&rdquo;
-&ldquo;Alas!&rdquo; we reply, &ldquo;look not upon me, because I
-am black&rdquo; (Cant. i. 6). &ldquo;It is the sun which has
-thus discoloured me.&rdquo; It is at this point that we
-suddenly enter the third degree, that of burial and
-decay.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.099" id="png.t.099"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">185</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">THIRD DEGREE OF THE PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH IN ITS
-CONSUMMATION&mdash;CONSUMMATED STATE OF SPIRITUAL
-DEATH&mdash;BURIAL&mdash;DECAY&mdash;ADVICE AS TO THE CONDUCT
-OF PERSONS IN THESE CONDITIONS, WHICH ARE FOLLOWED
-BY A <span class="nw">NEW LIFE</span>.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>The</span> torrent, as we have said, has passed through
-every imaginable vicissitude. It has been
-dashed against rocks; indeed, its course has been
-but a succession of falls from rock to rock; but it
-has always reappeared, and we have never seen it
-really lost. Now it begins to lose itself in gulf after
-gulf. Formerly it still had a course, though it was so
-precipitate, so confused, and so irregular; but here it
-is engulphed with a yet greater precipitation in unsearchable
-depths. For a long time it disappears
-altogether from view, then we perceive it slightly, but
-more by hearing than by sight, and it only appears
-to be again precipitated in a deeper gulf. It falls
-from abyss to abyss, from precipice to precipice,
-<a name="png.t.100" id="png.t.100"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">186</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>until at last it falls into the depths of the sea, where,
-losing all form, it is lost to be found no more, having
-become one with the sea itself. The soul, after
-many deaths, expires at last in the arms of Love;
-but it does not even perceive those arms. It has
-no sooner expired, than it loses all vital action, all
-desire, inclination, tendency, choice, repugnance, and
-aversion. As it draws near to death, it grows
-weaker; but its life, though languishing and agonising,
-is still life, and &ldquo;while there is life there is
-hope,&rdquo; even though death be inevitable. The torrent
-must be buried out of sight.</p>
-
-<p>O God! what is this? What were only precipices
-become abysses. The soul falls into a depth
-of misery from which there is no escape. At first
-this abyss is small, but the further the soul advances,
-the stronger does it appear, so that it goes from bad
-to worse; for it is to be remarked, that when we
-first enter a degree, there clings to us much that we
-have brought in with us, and at the end we already
-begin to feel symptoms of that which is to come. It
-is also noticeable that each degree contains within it
-an infinitude of others.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.101" id="png.t.101"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">187</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>A man, after his death and before his burial, is
-still among the living: he still has the face of a man,
-though he is an object of terror; thus the soul, in
-the commencement of this degree, still bears some
-resemblance to what it was before; there remains in
-it a certain secret impression of God, as there remains
-in a dead body a certain animal heat which
-gradually leaves it. The soul still practises devotion
-and prayer, but this is soon taken away from it. It
-must lose not only all prayer, every gift of God, but
-God Himself to all appearance&mdash;that is, so far as
-He was possessed selfishly by the <em>ego</em>&mdash;and not lose
-Him for one, two, or three years, but for ever. All
-facility for good, all active virtue, are taken from it;
-it is left naked and despoiled of everything. The
-world, which formerly esteemed it so much, begins
-to fear it. Yet it is no visible sin which produces
-the contempt of men, but a powerlessness to practise
-its former good works with the same facility.
-Formerly whole days were spent in the visitation of
-the sick, often even against natural inclination; such
-works as these can be practised no longer.</p>
-
-<p>The soul will soon be in an entire oblivion. Little
-<a name="png.t.102" id="png.t.102"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">188</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>by little, it loses everything in such a degree, that it
-is altogether impoverished. The world tramples it
-under foot, and thinks no more of it. O poor soul!
-thou must see thyself treated thus, and see it with
-terror, without being able to prevent it. It must
-suffer itself to be buried, covered with earth, and
-trodden under foot by all men.</p>
-
-<p>It is here that heavy crosses are borne, and all the
-heavier that they are believed to be merited. The
-soul begins to have a horror of itself. God casts it
-so far off, that He seems determined to abandon it
-for ever. Poor soul! thou must be patient, and
-remain in thy sepulchre. It is content to remain
-there, though in terrible suffering, because it sees no
-way of escape from it; and it sees, too, that it is its
-only fit place, all others being even sadder to it. It
-flees from men, knowing that they regard it with
-aversion. They look upon this forlorn Bride as an
-outcast, who has lost the grace of God, and who is
-only fit to be buried in the earth.</p>
-
-<p>The heart endures its bitterness; but, alas! how
-sweet this state is even now, and how easy it would
-be to remain in the sepulchre, if it were not necessary
-<a name="png.t.103" id="png.t.103"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">189</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>to decay! The old man becomes gradually corrupted;
-formerly there were weaknesses and failings, now the
-soul sees a depth of corruption of which it had
-hitherto been ignorant, for it could not imagine what
-were its self-esteem and selfishness. O God! what
-horror this soul suffers in seeing itself thus decaying!
-All troubles, the contempt and aversion of man, affect
-it no longer. It is even insensible to the deprivation
-of the Sun of Righteousness; it knows that His light
-does not penetrate the tomb. But to feel its own
-corruption, that it cannot endure. What would it
-not rather suffer? But it must experience, to the
-very depths of its being, what it is.</p>
-
-<p>And yet, if I could decay without being seen by
-God, I should be content: what troubles me is the
-horror which I must cause Him by the sight of my
-corruption. But, poor desolate one! what canst
-thou do? It should suffice thee, one would think,
-to <em>bear</em> this corruption, without <em>loving</em> it: but now
-thou art not even sure that thou dost not desire it!
-The soul is in darkness, without being able to judge
-whether its terrible thoughts proceed from itself or
-from the evil one.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.104" id="png.t.104"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">190</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>It is no longer troubled at being cast off by God;
-it is so conscious of its demerit, that it consents to
-the deprivation of the sensible presence of God.
-But it cannot endure the thought that the taint of
-its corruption reaches even to God. It does not
-wish to sin. Let me decay, is its cry, and find my
-home in the depths of hell, if only I may be kept
-free from sin. It no longer thinks of love, for it
-believes itself to be incapable of affection. It is, in
-its own opinion, worse than when it was in a state
-of nature, since it is in the state of corruption usual
-to the body deprived of life.</p>
-
-<p>At length by degrees the soul becomes accustomed
-to its corruption: it feels it less, and finds
-it natural, except at certain times, when it is tried
-by various temptations, whose terrible impressions
-cause it much anguish. Ah, poor torrent! wast
-thou not better off on the mountain-top than here?
-Thou hadst then some slight corruption, it is true;
-but now, though thou flowest rapidly, and nothing
-can stop thee, thou passest through such filthy
-places, so tainted with sulphur and saltpetre, that
-thou bearest away their odours with thee.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.105" id="png.t.105"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">191</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>At last the soul is reduced to a state of nothingness,
-and has become like a person who does not
-exist, and never will exist; it does nothing, either
-good or ill. Formerly it thought of itself now it
-thinks no longer. All that is of grace is done as
-if it were of nature, and there is no longer either
-pain or pleasure. All that there is, is that its ashes
-remain as ashes, without the hope of ever being
-anything but ashes: it is utterly dead, and nothing
-affects it either from without or within&mdash;that is, it
-is no longer troubled by any sensible impressions.
-At last, reduced to nonentity, there is found in the
-ashes <em>a germ of immortality</em>, which lives beneath
-these ashes, and in due time will manifest its life.
-But the soul is in ignorance of it, and never expects
-to be revived or raised from the dead.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">The faithfulness of the soul in this condition consists
-in letting itself be buried, crushed, trampled
-on, without making any more movement than a
-corpse, without seeking in any way to prevent its
-putrefaction. There are those who wish to apply
-balm to themselves. No, no; leave yourselves as
-you are. You must know your corruption, and see
-<a name="png.t.106" id="png.t.106"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">192</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>the infinite depth of depravity that is in you. To
-apply balm is but to endeavour by good works to
-hide your corruption. Oh, do it not! You will
-wrong yourselves. God can suffer you; why cannot
-you suffer yourselves? The soul, reduced to
-nothingness, must remain in it, without wishing to
-change its state; and it is then that the torrent
-loses itself in the sea, never to find itself in itself
-again, but to become one with the sea. It is
-then that this corpse feels without feeling, that it
-is gradually reanimated, and assumes <em>a new life</em>;
-but this is done so gradually that it seems like a
-dream. And this brings us to the last degree,
-which is the commencement of the <em>divine and truly
-inner life</em>, including numberless smaller degrees, and
-in which the advancement is infinite: just as this
-torrent can perpetually advance in the sea, and
-imbibe more of its nature, the longer it remains
-in it.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.107" id="png.t.107"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">193</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">FOURTH DEGREE OF THE PASSIVE WAY OF FAITH, WHICH
-IS THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE DIVINE LIFE&mdash;TRANSITION
-FROM THE HUMAN STATE TO THE DIVINE, AND
-TO THE RESURRECTION OF THE SOUL IN GOD&mdash;DESCRIPTION
-OF THIS LIFE AND OF ITS PROPERTIES, GRADATIONS,
-IDENTITY, INDIFFERENCE&mdash;SENTIMENTS OF THE
-SOUL&mdash;ITS EXISTENCE IN GOD&mdash;ITS PEACE, ETC.&mdash;POWER
-AND VIEWS WITH REGARD TO OTHERS, TO ITSELF, TO
-ITS CONDITION, TO ITS ACTIONS, TO ITS WORDS, TO ITS
-FAULTS&mdash;MIND OF CHRIST&mdash;VARIOUS OBSERVATIONS.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>When</span> the torrent begins to lose itself in the
-sea, it can easily be distinguished. Its
-movement is perceptible, until at length it gradually
-loses all form of its own, to take that of the sea.
-So the soul, leaving this degree, and beginning to
-lose itself, yet retains something of its own; but
-in a short time it loses all that it had peculiar to
-itself. The corpse which has been reduced to
-ashes is still dust and ashes; but if another person
-were to swallow those ashes, they would no
-<a name="png.t.108" id="png.t.108"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">194</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>longer have an identity, but would form part of the
-person who had taken them. The soul hitherto,
-though dead and buried, has retained its own
-being; it is only in this degree that it is really
-taken out of itself.</p>
-
-<p>All that has taken place up to this point has
-been in the individual capacity of the creature;
-but here the creature is taken out of his own
-capacity to receive an infinite capacity in God
-Himself. And as the torrent, when it enters the
-sea, loses its own being in such a way that it
-retains nothing of it, and takes that of the sea, or
-rather is taken out of itself to be lost in the sea;
-so this soul loses the human in order that it may lose
-itself in the divine, which becomes its being and
-its subsistence, not essentially, but mystically. Then
-this torrent possesses all the treasures of the sea, and
-is as glorious as it was formerly poor and miserable.</p>
-
-<p>It is in the tomb that the soul begins to resume
-life, and the light enters insensibly. Then
-it can be truly said that &ldquo;The people which sat in
-darkness saw great light; and to them which sat
-in the region and shadow of death light is sprung
-<a name="png.t.109" id="png.t.109"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">195</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>up&rdquo; (Matt. iv. 16). There is a beautiful figure of
-this resurrection in Ezekiel (chap. xxxvii.), where
-the dry bones gradually assume life: and then
-there is that other passage, &ldquo;The hour is coming,
-and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the
-Son of God; and they that hear shall live&rdquo; (John v.
-25). O you who are coming out of the sepulchre!
-you feel within yourselves a germ of life springing
-up little by little: you are quite astonished to
-find a secret strength taking possession of you:
-your ashes are reanimated: you feel yourselves to
-be in a new country. The poor soul, which only
-expected to remain at rest in its grave, receives an
-agreeable surprise. It does not know what to think:
-it supposes that the sun must have shed upon it a few
-scattered rays through some opening or chink, whose
-brightness will only last for a moment. It is still
-more astonished when it feels this secret vigour permeating
-its entire being, and finds that it gradually
-receives a new life, to lose it no more for ever,
-unless it be by the most flagrant unfaithfulness.</p>
-
-<p>But this new life is not like the former one:
-it is a <em>life in God</em>. It is a perfect life. The soul
-<a name="png.t.110" id="png.t.110"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">196</span><span class="ns">]
- </span><em>lives no longer</em> and works no longer of itself, but
-<em>God</em> lives, acts, and operates in it (Gal. ii. 20);
-and this goes on increasing, so that it becomes
-perfect with God's perfection, rich with God's
-riches, and loving with God's love.</p>
-
-<p>The soul sees now that whatever it owned formerly
-had been in its own possession: now it no
-longer possesses, but is possessed: it only takes a
-new life in order to lose it in God; or rather it
-only lives with the life of God; and as He is the
-principle of life, the soul can want nothing. What
-a gain it has made by all its losses! It has lost
-the created for the Creator, the nothing for the
-All in all. All things are given to it, not in itself,
-but in God; not to be possessed by itself, but to
-be possessed by God. Its riches are immense, for
-they are God Himself. It feels its capacity increasing
-day by day to immensity: every virtue is
-restored to it, but in God.</p>
-
-<p>It must be remarked, that as it was only despoiled
-by degrees, so it is only enriched and
-vivified by degrees. The more it loses itself in
-God, the greater its capacity becomes; just as the
-<a name="png.t.111" id="png.t.111"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">197</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>more the torrent loses itself in the sea, the more
-it is enlarged, having no other limits than those of
-the sea: it participates in all its properties. The
-soul becomes strong and firm: it has lost all means,
-but it has found the end. This divine life becomes
-quite natural to it. As it no longer feels itself, sees
-itself, or knows itself, so it no longer sees or understands
-or distinguishes anything of God as distinct or
-outside of itself. It is no longer conscious of love,
-or light, or knowledge; it only knows that God is,
-and that it no longer lives except in God. All
-devotion is action, and all action is devotion: all
-is the same; the soul is indifferent to all, for all
-is equally God. Formerly it was necessary to exercise
-virtue in order to perform virtuous works;
-here all distinction of action is taken away, the
-actions having no virtue in themselves, but all being
-God, the meanest action equally with the greatest,
-provided it is in the order of God and at His time:
-for all that might be of the natural choice, and
-not in this order, would have another effect, leading
-the soul out of God by unfaithfulness. Not
-that it would be brought out of its degree or its
-<a name="png.t.112" id="png.t.112"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">198</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>loss, but out of the divine plan, which makes all
-things one and all things God. So the soul is <em>indifferent</em>
-as to whether it be in one state or another,
-in one place or another: all is the same to it, and
-it lets itself be carried along naturally. It ceases
-to think, to wish, or to choose for itself; but remains
-content, without care or anxiety, no longer
-distinguishing its inner life to speak of it. Indeed
-it may be said not to possess one: it is no longer
-in itself; it is all in God. It is not necessary for it
-to shut itself up within itself; it does not hope to
-find anything there, and does not seek for it. If
-a person were altogether penetrated with the sea,
-having sea within and without, above and below, on
-every side, he would not prefer one place to
-another, all being the same to him. So the soul
-does not trouble itself to seek anything or to do
-anything; that is, of itself, by itself, or for itself.
-It remains as it is. But what does it do? Nothing&mdash;always
-nothing. It does what it is made
-to do, it suffers what it is made to suffer. Its
-peace is unchangeable, but always natural. It
-has, as it were, passed into a state of nature; and
-<a name="png.t.113" id="png.t.113"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">199</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>yet how different from those altogether without
-God!</p>
-
-<p>The difference is, that it is compelled to action
-by God without being conscious of it, whereas
-formerly it was nature that acted. It seems to
-itself to do neither right nor wrong, but it lives
-satisfied, peaceful, doing what it is made to do in
-a steady and resolute manner.</p>
-
-<p>God alone is its guide; for at the time of its
-loss, it lost its own will. And if you were to ask
-what are its desires, it could not tell. It can
-choose for itself no longer: all desire is taken
-away, because, having found its centre, the heart
-loses all natural inclination, tendency, and activity,
-in the same way as it loses all repugnance and
-contrariety. The torrent has no longer either a
-declivity or a movement: it is in repose, and at
-its end.</p>
-
-<p>But with what satisfaction is this soul satisfied?
-With the satisfaction of God, immense, general,
-without knowing or understanding what it is that
-satisfies it; for here all sentiments, tastes, views,
-particular opinions, however delicate they may be,
-<a name="png.t.114" id="png.t.114"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">200</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>are taken from it: that certain vague, indefinable
-something, which formerly occupied without occupying
-it, is gone, and nothing remains to it. But this
-insensibility is very different to that of death, burial,
-and decay. That was a deprivation of life, a distaste,
-a separation, the powerlessness of the dying
-united with the insensibility of the dead; but this
-is an <em>elevation</em> above all these things, which does
-not remove them, but renders them useless. A
-dead man is deprived of all the functions of life
-by the powerlessness of death; but if he were to
-be raised gloriously, he would be full of life, without
-having the power to preserve it by means of
-the senses: and being placed above all means by
-virtue of his germ of immortality, he would no
-longer feel that which animated him, although he
-would know himself to be alive.</p>
-
-<p>In this degree God cannot be tasted, seen, or felt,
-being no longer distinct from ourselves, but one
-with us. The soul has neither inclination nor taste
-for anything: in the period of death and burial it
-experienced this, but in a very different manner.
-Then it arose from distaste and powerlessness, but
-<a name="png.t.115" id="png.t.115"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">201</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>now it is the effect of <em>plenitude</em> and <em>abundance</em>;
-just as if a person could live on air, he would be
-full without feeling his plenitude, or knowing in
-what way he had been satisfied; he would not be
-empty and unable to eat or to taste, but free from
-all necessity of eating by reason of his satisfaction,
-without knowing how the air, entering by all his
-pores, had penetrated equally at all parts.</p>
-
-<p>The soul here is in God, as in the air which is
-natural to it, and it is no more sensible of its fulness
-than we are of the air we breathe. Yet it is full,
-and nothing is wanting to it; therefore all its desires
-are taken from it. Its peace is great, but not as it
-was before. Formerly it was an inanimate peace
-a certain sepulture, from which there sometimes
-escaped exhalations which troubled it. When it
-was reduced to ashes, it was at peace; but it was
-a barren peace, like that of a corpse, which would
-be at peace in the midst of the wildest storms of
-the sea: it would not feel them, and would not be
-troubled by them, its state of death rendering is
-insensible. But here the soul is raised, as it were,
-to a mountain-top, from which it sees the waves
-<a name="png.t.116" id="png.t.116"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">202</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>rolling and tossing, without fearing their attacks;
-or rather it is at the bottom of the sea, where there
-is always tranquillity, even while the surface is agitated.
-The senses may suffer their sorrows, but at
-the centre there is always the same calm tranquillity,
-because He who possesses it is immutable.</p>
-
-<p>This, of course, supposes the faithfulness of the
-soul; for in whatever state it may be, it is possible
-for it to recede and fall back into itself. But here
-the soul progresses infinitely in God; and it is
-possible for it to advance incessantly; just as, if the
-sea had no bottom, any one falling into it would
-sink to infinitude, and going down to greater and
-greater depths of the ocean, would discover more
-and more of its beauties and treasures. It is even
-thus with the soul whose home is in God.</p>
-
-<p>But what must it do in order to be faithful to
-God? Nothing, and less than nothing. It must
-simply suffer itself to be possessed, acted upon, and
-moved without resistance, remaining in the state
-which is natural to it, waiting for what every moment
-may bring to it, and receiving it from Him, without
-either adding to or taking from it; letting itself be
-<a name="png.t.117" id="png.t.117"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">203</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>led at all times and to any place, regardless of sight
-or reason, and without thinking of either; letting
-itself go naturally into all things, without considering
-what would be best or most plausible; remaining in
-the state of evenness and stability in which God has
-placed it, without being troubled to do anything;
-but leaving to God the care of providing its opportunities,
-and of doing all for it; not making definite
-acts of abandonment, but simply resting in the state
-of abandonment in which it already is, and which is
-natural to it.</p>
-
-<p>The soul is unable to act in any way of itself without
-a consciousness of unfaithfulness. It possesses
-all things by having nothing. It finds a facility for
-every duty, for speaking and for acting, no longer
-in its own way, but in God's. Its faithfulness does
-not consist in ceasing from all activity, like one who
-is dead, but in doing nothing except by the principle
-which animates it. A soul in this state has no
-inclination of its own in anything, but lets itself go
-as it is led, and beyond that does nothing. It cannot
-speak of its state, for it does not see it; though
-there is so much that is extraordinary, it is no longer
-<a name="png.t.118" id="png.t.118"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">204</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>as it was in the former degrees, where the creature
-had some part in it, that which was in a great
-measure its own; but here the most wonderful
-things are perfectly natural, and are done without
-thought. It is the same principle that gives life to
-the soul which acts in it and through it. It has a
-sovereign power over the hearts of those around it,
-but not of itself. As nothing belongs to it, it can make
-no reserves; and if it can say nothing of a state so
-divine, it is not because it fears vanity, for that no
-longer exists; it is rather because what it has, while
-possessing nothing, passes all expression by its extreme
-simplicity and purity. Not that there are
-not many things which are but the accessories of
-this condition, and not the centre, of which it can
-easily speak. These accessories are like the crumbs
-which fall from that eternal feast of which the soul
-begins to partake in time; they are but the sparks
-which prove the existence of a furnace of fire and
-flame; but it is impossible to speak of the principle
-and the end, because only so much can be imparted
-as God is pleased to give at the moment to be
-either written or spoken.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.119" id="png.t.119"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">205</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>It may be asked, Is the soul unconscious of its
-faults, or does it commit none? It does commit
-them, and is more conscious of them than ever,
-especially in the commencement of its new life.
-The faults committed are often more subtile and
-delicate than formerly. The soul knows them
-better, because its eyes are open; but it is not
-troubled by them, and can do nothing to rid itself
-of them. It is true that, when it has been guilty of
-unfaithfulness or sin, it is sensible of a certain cloud;
-but it passes over, without the soul itself doing anything
-to dispel it, or to cleanse itself; apart from
-which, any efforts it might make would be useless,
-and would only serve to increase its impurity; so
-that it would be deeply sensible that the second
-stain was worse than the first. It is not a question
-of returning to God, because a <em>return</em> presupposes a
-departure; and if we are in God, we have but to
-abide in Him; just as, when there arises a little
-cloud in the middle region of air, if the wind blows,
-it moves the clouds, but does not dissipate them;
-if, on the contrary, the sun shines forth, they will
-soon be dispelled. The more subtile and delicate
-<a name="png.t.120" id="png.t.120"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">206</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>the clouds are, the more quickly they will be dissipated.</p>
-
-<p>Oh! if we had sufficient fidelity never to look at
-ourselves, what progress might we not make! Our
-sights of ourselves resemble certain plants in the
-sea, which, just so long as their support lasts, prevent
-bodies from falling. If the branches are very
-delicate, the weight of the body forces them down,
-and we are only delayed for a moment; but if we
-look at ourselves willingly and long, we shall be
-delayed just so long a time as the look may occupy,
-and our loss will be great indeed. The defects of
-this state are certain light emotions or sights of self,
-which are born and die in a moment&mdash;certain
-winds of self, which pass over the calm sea, and
-cause ripples; but these faults are taken from us
-little by little, and continually become more delicate.</p>
-
-<p>The soul, on leaving the tomb, finds itself, without
-knowing how, clothed with the <em>inclinations</em> of Christ;
-not by distinct and natural views of Him, but by its
-natural condition, finding these inclinations just when
-they are needed, without thinking of them; as a person
-who possesses a hidden treasure might find it
-<a name="png.t.121" id="png.t.121"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">207</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>unexpectedly in the time of his need. The soul is
-surprised when, without having reflected on the mind
-and disposition of Christ, it finds them naturally implanted
-within it. These dispositions of Christ are
-lowliness, meekness, submission, and the other virtues
-which He possessed. The soul finds that all these
-are acting within it, but so easily, that they seem to
-have become natural to it. Its treasury is in God
-alone, where it can draw upon it ceaselessly in every
-time of need, without in any degree diminishing it.
-It is then that it really &ldquo;puts on&rdquo; Jesus Christ (Rom.
-xiii. 14); and it is henceforth He who acts, speaks,
-moves in the soul, the Lord Jesus Christ being its
-moving principle. Now those around it do not
-inconvenience it; the heart is enlarged to contain
-them. It desires neither activity nor retreat, but
-only to be each moment what God makes it to be.</p>
-
-<p>As in this condition the soul is capable of infinite
-advancement, I leave those who are living in it to
-write of it, the light not being given me for the
-higher degrees, and my soul not being sufficiently
-advanced in God to see or to know them. All that
-I shall add is, that it is easy to see by the length of
-<a name="png.t.122" id="png.t.122"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">208</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>the road necessary to be taken in order to arrive
-at God that the end is not so soon attained as we
-are apt to imagine, and that even the most spiritual
-and enlightened mistake the consummation of the
-<em>passive way of light and love</em> for the end of this
-one, when in reality it is but the commencement.</p>
-
-<p>I must also remark, that what I have said touching
-the <em>mind</em> of Christ commences as soon as we enter
-the way of <em>naked faith</em>. Although the soul in the
-former degrees has no distinct sights of Christ, it
-has nevertheless a desire to be conformed to His
-image. It covets the cross, lowliness, poverty; then
-this desire is lost, and there remains a secret inclination
-for the same things, which continually deepens
-and simplifies, becoming every day more intimate
-and more hidden. But here the mind of Christ is the
-mind of the soul, natural and habitual to it, as something
-no longer distinct from itself, but as its own
-being and its own life; Christ exercising it without
-going out of the soul, and the soul exercising it with
-Him, in Him, without going out of Him; not like
-something distinct, which it knows, sees, attempts,
-practises, but as that which is natural to it. All the
-<a name="png.t.123" id="png.t.123"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">209</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>actions of life, such as breathing, are done naturally,
-without thought, rule, or measure; and they are
-done unconsciously by the person who does them.
-It is thus with the mind of Christ in this degree,
-which continually develops, as the soul is more transformed
-in Him, and becomes more thoroughly one
-with Him.</p>
-
-<p>But are there no crosses in this condition? As the
-soul is strong with the strength of God Himself,
-God lays upon it more crosses and heavier ones than
-before; but they are borne divinely. Formerly the
-cross charmed it; it was loved and cherished; now
-it is not thought of, but is suffered to go and come;
-and the cross itself becomes God, like all other
-things. This does not involve the cessation of suffering,
-but of the sorrow, the anxiety, the bitterness
-of suffering. It is true that the crosses are no longer
-crosses, but God. In the former stages, the cross is
-virtue, and is exalted more and more as the condition
-is more advanced: here the soul feels it to be
-God, like the rest; all that constitutes the life of this
-soul, all that it has, moment by moment, being God
-to it.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.124" id="png.t.124"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">210</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>The outward appearance of these persons is quite
-ordinary, and nothing unusual is observed in them
-except by those who are capable of understanding
-them.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">All is seen in God, and in its true light; therefore
-this state is not subject to deception. There
-are no visions, revelations, ecstasies, ravishments, or
-translations. All these things do not belong to this
-state, which is above them all. This way is simple,
-pure, and naked, seeing nothing out of God; and
-thus seeing all as God sees it, and with His eyes.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap biggap ls0"><a name="png.t.125" id="png.t.125"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">211</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span><i>PART II.</i></h2>
-
-<hr class="tiny" />
-
-
-<h2 class="chap nogap">CHAPTER I.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">MORE PARTICULAR DESCRIPTION OF SOME OF THE CHARACTERISTICS
-OF THE DIVINE RESURRECTION LIFE&mdash;TRUE
-LIBERTY AND THE RISEN LIFE, IN DISTINCTION FROM
-THAT WHICH IS NOT SO, OF WHICH JOB IS AN ILLUSTRATION&mdash;COMMENCEMENT
-OF THE APOSTOLIC LIFE&mdash;ITS
-FUNCTIONS AND ITS FRUITS&mdash;ON THE PRACTICE OF
-VIRTUE, PARTICULARLY OF HUMILITY&mdash;BLESSEDNESS OF
-BEING LOST IN GOD&mdash;RARITY OF PERFECT ABANDONMENT&mdash;RAYS
-OF GLORY ESCAPED <span class="nw">FROM WITHIN</span>.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>I omitted</span> to say that this is where true liberty
-begins; not, as some imagine, a liberty which
-necessitates idleness; that would be imprisonment
-rather than liberty, fancying ourselves free because,
-having an aversion to our own works, we no longer
-practise them. The liberty of which I speak is of a
-different nature; it does all things easily which God
-would have done, and the more easily in proportion
-<a name="png.t.126" id="png.t.126"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">212</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>to the duration and the painfulness of the incapacity
-to do them which we have previously experienced.
-I confess I do not understand the
-resurrection state of certain Christians, who profess
-to have attained it, and who yet remain all their
-lives powerless and destitute; for here the soul takes
-up a true life. The actions of a raised man are the
-actions of life; and if the soul remain lifeless, I say
-that it may be dead or buried, but not risen. A
-risen soul should be able to perform without difficulty
-all the actions which it has performed in the
-past, only they would be done in God. Did not
-Lazarus, after his resurrection, exercise all the
-functions of life as formerly, and Jesus Christ after
-His resurrection was willing to eat and to converse
-with men. And so of those who believe themselves
-to be risen with Christ, and who are nevertheless
-stunted in their spiritual growth and incapable of
-devotion,&mdash;I say, that they do not possess a resurrection
-life, for there everything is restored to the soul
-a hundred-fold. There is a beautiful illustration of
-this in the case of Job, whose history I consider a
-mirror of the spiritual life. First God robbed him
-<a name="png.t.127" id="png.t.127"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">213</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>of his wealth, which we may consider as setting
-forth gifts and graces; then of his children; this
-signifies the destruction of natural sensibilities, and
-of our own works, which are as our children and
-our most cherished possessions: then God deprived
-him of his health, which symbolises the loss of
-virtue; then He touched his person, rendering him
-an object of horror and contempt. It even appears
-that this holy man was guilty of sin, and failed in
-resignation; he was accused by his friends of being
-justly punished for his crimes; there was no healthy
-part left in him. But after he had been brought
-down to the dunghill, and reduced as it were to a
-corpse, did not God restore everything to him, his
-wealth, his children, his health, and his life?</p>
-
-<p>It is the same with spiritual resurrection; everything
-is restored, with a wonderful power to use it
-without being defiled by it, clinging to it without
-appropriating it as before. All is done in
-God, and things are used as though they were not
-used. It is here that true liberty and true life are
-found. &ldquo;If we have been planted in the likeness
-of Christ's death, we shall be also in the likeness of
-<a name="png.t.128" id="png.t.128"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">214</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>His resurrection&rdquo; (Rom. vi. 5). Can there be
-freedom where there are powerlessness and restrictions?
-No; &ldquo;If the Son shall make you free, ye
-shall be free indeed,&rdquo; but with His liberty.</p>
-
-<p>This is where true liberty begins. Nothing that
-God desires is difficult to us, or costs us anything;
-and if a person is called to preach, to instruct, &amp;c.,
-he does it with a marvellous facility, without the
-necessity of preparing a discourse, being well able
-to practise what Jesus commanded His disciples,
-&ldquo;Take no thought how or what ye shall speak:
-for I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which all
-your adversaries shall not be able to gainsay nor
-resist&rdquo; (Matt. x. 19; Luke xxi. 15). This is not
-given till after an experience of powerlessness; and
-the deeper that experience has been, the greater is
-the liberty. But it is useless to endeavour to force
-ourselves into this condition; for as God would not
-be the source, we should not realise the desired
-results. It may well be said of this risen life, that
-all good things are given with it. In this state,
-the soul cannot practise the virtues as virtues; it is
-not even conscious of them; but all the virtues
-<a name="png.t.129" id="png.t.129"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">215</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>have become so habitual to it, that it practises
-them naturally, almost instinctively. When it hears
-others speak of deep humiliation, it is surprised to
-find that it experiences nothing of the kind; and if
-it sought to humble itself, it would be astonished,
-as though it were guilty of unfaithfulness, and would
-even find it impossible, because the state of annihilation
-through which it has passed has placed it
-below all humiliation; for in order to be humbled,
-we must <em>be something</em>, and nothingness cannot be
-brought lower; its present state has placed it above
-all humility and all virtue by its transformation into
-God, so that its powerlessness arises both from its
-annihilation and its elevation. Those persons have
-nothing outwardly to distinguish them from others,
-unless it be that they do no harm to any one; for,
-so far as the exterior is concerned, they are very
-ordinary, and therefore do not attract observation,
-but live in a state of quiet rest, free from all care
-and anxiety. They experience a deep joy, arising
-from the absence of all fear, or desire, or longing,
-so that nothing can disturb their repose or diminish
-their joy. David possessed this experience when
-<a name="png.t.130" id="png.t.130"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">216</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>he said, &ldquo;The Lord is my light and my salvation,
-whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my
-life; of whom shall I be afraid&rdquo; (Ps. xxvii. 1).</p>
-
-<p>A heart ravished with joy no longer looks at itself,
-nor thinks of itself; and its joy, though great, is
-not an object of contemplation. The soul is in
-a state of ravishment and ecstasy which cause no
-uneasiness, because God has enlarged its capacity
-almost to infinitude. Those ecstasies which cause
-the loss of consciousness are the effect of human
-imperfection, and are nevertheless the admiration of
-men. God is, as it were, drawing the soul out of
-itself that it may be lost in Him; but as it has
-neither sufficient purity nor strength to bear the
-process, it becomes necessary, either that God should
-cease thus to draw it, which involves the cessation
-of the ecstasy, or that nature should succumb and
-die, which not unfrequently happens. But in this
-resurrection life, the ecstasy lasts, not for a few
-hours only, but for ever, without either violence or
-variation, God having purified and strengthened
-the subject of it to the extent necessary to enable it
-to bear this glorious ravishment. It seems to me
-<a name="png.t.131" id="png.t.131"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">217</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>that when God goes out of Himself, He creates an
-ecstasy,&mdash;but I dare not say this for fear of teaching
-an error. What I say then is, that the soul drawn
-out of itself experiences an inward ecstasy; but a
-happy one, because it is only drawn out of itself
-in order that it may be drowned and lost in God,
-quitting its own imperfections and its own limited
-thoughts to participate in those of God.</p>
-
-<p>O happy nothingness! where does its blessedness
-end? O poverty-stricken, weary ones! how
-well ye are recompensed! O unutterable happiness!
-O soul! what a gain thou hast made in
-exchange for all thy losses! Couldst thou have
-believed, when thou wast lying in the dust, that what
-caused thee so much horror could have procured
-thee so great a happiness as that which thou now
-possessest? If it had been told thee, thou couldst
-not have credited it. Learn now by thine own
-experience how good it is to trust in God, and
-that those who put their confidence in Him shall
-never be confounded.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">O abandonment! what gladness canst thou impart
-to the soul, and what progress it might have made if
-<a name="png.t.132" id="png.t.132"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">218</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>it had found thee at first; from how much weariness
-it might have been delivered if it had known how to
-let God work! But, alas! men are not willing to
-abandon themselves, and to trust only in God. Even
-those who appear to do it, and who think themselves
-well established in it, are only abandoned in imagination,
-and not in reality. They are willing to abandon
-themselves in one thing and not in another; they
-wish to compromise with God, and to place a limit
-to what they will permit Him to do. They want to
-give themselves up, but on such and such conditions.
-No; this is not abandonment. An entire and total
-abandonment excepts nothing, keeps back nothing,
-neither death, nor life, nor perfection, nor salvation,
-nor heaven, nor hell. O poor souls! give yourselves up
-utterly in this abandonment; you will get only happiness
-and blessing from it. Walk boldly on this stormy
-sea, relying on the word of Jesus, who has promised
-to take upon Himself the care of all those who will
-lose their own life, and abandon themselves to Him.
-But if you sink like Peter, ascribe it to the weakness
-of your faith. If we had the faith calmly, and without
-hesitation, to face all dangers, what good should we
-<a name="png.t.133" id="png.t.133"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">219</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>not receive! What do you fear, trembling heart?
-You fear to lose yourself? Alas! for all that you are
-worth, what would that matter? Yes, you will lose
-yourself if you have strength to abandon yourself to
-God, but you will be lost in Him. O happy loss! I
-do not know how sufficiently to repeat it. Why can
-I not persuade every one to make this abandonment?
-and why do men preach anything less? Alas! men are
-so blind that they regard all this as folly, as something
-fit for women and weak minds; but for great minds
-it is too mean; they must guide themselves by their
-own meagre share of wisdom. This path is unknown
-to them, because they are wise and prudent in themselves;
-but it is revealed to babes, who can suffer self
-to be annihilated, and who are willing to be moved
-by God at His pleasure, leaving Him to do with them
-as He will, without resistance, without considering what
-others will say. Oh, how difficult it is to this proper
-prudence to become nothing both in its own eyes and
-in the sight of others! Men say that their one object
-in life is to glorify God, while it is really their own glorification.
-But to be willing to be nothing in the sight
-of God, to live in an entire abandonment, in utter
-<a name="png.t.134" id="png.t.134"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">220</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>self-despair, to give themselves to Him when they are the
-most discouraged, to leave themselves in His hands,
-and not to look at self when they are on the very edge
-of the abyss; it is this that is so rare, and it is this
-which constitutes perfect abandonment. There sometimes
-occur in this life wonderful manifestations to
-the natural senses, but this is not usual; it is like
-Christ on the Mount of Transfiguration.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.135" id="png.t.135"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">221</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER II.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">STABILITY, EXPERIENCES, ELEVATION, EXTREME PURITY, AND
-PEACE OF THE SOUL IN THE CONDITION OF ABANDONMENT&mdash;ALL
-IS PURELY GOD TO IT&mdash;FOR ITS LOST LIBERTY IT
-FINDS THAT OF GOD&mdash;STATE IN WHICH ALL IS DIVINELY
-SURE, EQUAL, AND INDIFFERENT.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>The</span> soul having attained a divine state, is, as I
-have already said, an immovable rock, proof
-against all blows or shocks, unless it be when the
-Lord desires it to do something contrary to custom;
-then, if it does not yield to His first promptings, it
-has to suffer the pain of a constraint to which it can
-offer no resistance, and is compelled by a violence,
-which cannot be explained, to obey His will.</p>
-
-<p>It is impossible to tell the strange proofs to which
-God subjects the hearts which are perfectly abandoned,
-and which offer no resistance to Him in anything;
-neither, if I could speak of them, should I be
-understood. All that I can say is, that He does not
-<a name="png.t.136" id="png.t.136"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">222</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>leave them the shadow of anything that could be
-named, either in God or out of God. And He so
-raises them above all by the loss of all, that nothing
-less than God Himself, either in earth or heaven, can
-stop them. Nothing can harm them, because there is
-no longer anything hurtful for them, by reason of their
-union with God, which, in associating with sinners,
-contracts no defilement, because of its essential purity.</p>
-
-<p>This is more real than I can express: the soul participates
-in the purity of God; or rather, all natural
-purity having been annihilated, the purity of God
-alone exists in its nothingness; but so truly, that the
-heart is in perfect ignorance of evil, and powerless to
-commit it, which does not however prevent the possibility
-of its falling; but this seldom happens here,
-because the profound nothingness of the soul does
-not leave anything that can be appropriated to itself;
-and it is appropriation alone which can cause sin, for
-that which no longer exists cannot sin.</p>
-
-<p>The peace of those in this condition is so invariable
-and so profound, that nothing either in
-earth or hell can disturb it for a moment. The
-senses are still susceptible to suffering; but when
-<a name="png.t.137" id="png.t.137"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">223</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>they are overpowered by it, and cry out with the
-anguish, if they are questioned, or if they examine
-themselves, they will find nothing in themselves that
-suffers: in the midst of the greatest pain, they say that
-they suffer nothing, being unable to admit that they
-are suffering, because of the divine state of blessedness
-which reigns in the centre or supreme part.</p>
-
-<p>And then there is such an entire and complete
-separation of the two parts, the inferior and the
-superior, that they live together like strangers; and
-the most extraordinary trouble does not interrupt
-the perfect peace, tranquillity; joy, and rest of the
-superior part; as the joy of the divine life does
-not prevent the suffering of the inferior.</p>
-
-<p>If you wish to attribute any goodness to those
-who are thus transformed in God, they will object
-to it, not being able to find anything in themselves
-that can be named, affirmed, or heard. They are
-in a complete <em>negation</em>. It is this which causes the
-difference of terms and expressions employed by
-writers on this subject, who find a difficulty in
-making themselves understood, except by those
-whose experience accords with their own. Another
-<a name="png.t.138" id="png.t.138"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">224</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>effect of this negation is, that the soul having lost
-all that was its own, God having substituted Himself,
-it can attribute nothing either to itself or to
-God; because it knows God only, of whom it can
-say nothing. Here all is God to the soul, because
-it is no longer a question of seeing all <em>in</em> God;
-for to see things in God is to distinguish them in
-Him. For instance, if I enter a room, I see all
-that is there in addition to the room itself, though
-it be placed within it; but if all could be transformed
-into the room itself, or else were taken out
-of it, I should see nothing but the room alone.
-All creatures, <em>celestial</em>, <em>terrestrial</em> or <em>pure intelligences</em>,
-disappear and fade away, and there remains only
-God Himself, as He was before the creation. The
-soul sees only God everywhere; and all is God;
-not by thought, sight, or light, but by an identity
-of condition and a consummation of unity, which
-rendering it God by participation, without its being
-able to see itself, prevents it seeing anything anywhere;
-it can see no created being out of the Uncreated,
-the only uncreated One being all and in all.</p>
-
-<p>Men would condemn such a state, saying it
-<a name="png.t.139" id="png.t.139"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">225</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>makes us something less than the meanest insect;
-and so it does, not by obstinacy and firmness of
-purpose, but by powerlessness to interfere with
-ourselves. You may ask one in this condition,
-&ldquo;Who leads you to do such and such a thing? Is
-it God who has told you to do it, or has made
-known to you His will concerning it?&rdquo; He will
-reply, &ldquo;I know nothing, and I do not think of
-knowing anything: all is God and His will; and I
-no longer know what is meant by the will of God,
-because that will has become natural to me.&rdquo; &ldquo;But
-why should you do this rather than that?&rdquo; &ldquo;I do
-not know: I let myself be guided by Him who draws
-me.&rdquo; &ldquo;Why so?&rdquo; &ldquo;He draws me because I, being
-no longer anything, am carried along with God, and
-am drawn by Him <em>alone</em>. <em>He</em> goes hither and thither:
-<em>He</em> acts; and I am but an instrument, which I neither
-see nor regard. I have no longer a separate interest,
-because by the loss of myself I have lost all self-interest.
-Neither am I capable of giving any reason
-for my conduct, for I no longer have a conduct:
-yet I act infallibly so long as I have no other
-principle than that of the Infallible One.&rdquo;</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.140" id="png.t.140"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">226</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>And this blind abandonment is the permanent
-condition of the soul of which I speak; because
-having become one with God, it can see nothing
-but God; for having lost all separateness, self-possession,
-and distinction, it can no longer be
-abandoning itself, because, in order to abandon
-ourselves, we must do something, and have the
-power of disposing of ourselves.</p>
-
-<p>The soul is in this condition &ldquo;hidden <em>with
-Christ</em> in God&rdquo; (Col. iii. 3); <em>mingled</em> with Him,
-as the river of which we have spoken is mingled
-with the sea, so that it can be separated no more.
-It has the ebb and flow of the sea, no longer by
-choice, will, and liberty, but by nature: the immense
-sea having absorbed its shallow limited
-waters, it participates in all the movements of the
-sea. It is the sea which bears it, and yet it is
-not borne, since it has lost its own being; and
-having no other motion than that of the sea, it
-acts as the sea acts: not because it naturally
-possesses the same qualities, but because, having
-lost all its natural qualities, it has no others but
-those of the sea, without having the power of ever
-<a name="png.t.141" id="png.t.141"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">227</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>being anything but sea. It is not, as I have said,
-that it does not so retain its own nature, that, if
-God so willed it, in a moment it could be separated
-from the sea; but He does not do this.
-Neither does it lose the nature of the creature;
-and God could, if He pleased, cast it off from
-His divine bosom: but He does not do it, and
-the creature acts as it were divinely.</p>
-
-<p>But it will be said that by this theory I deprive
-man of his liberty. Not so; he is no longer free
-except by an excess of liberty, because he has lost
-freely all created liberty. He participates in the
-uncreated freedom, which is not contracted, bounded,
-limited by anything; and the soul's liberty is so
-great, so broad, that the whole earth appears to
-it as a speck, to which it is not confined. It is
-free to do all and to do nothing. There is no
-state or condition to which it cannot accommodate
-itself; it can do all things, and yet takes no part
-in them. O glorious state! who can describe
-thee, and what hast thou to fear or to apprehend?
-O Paul! thou couldst say, &ldquo;who shall separate
-us from the love of Christ?&rdquo; &ldquo;I am persuaded,&rdquo;
-<a name="png.t.142" id="png.t.142"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">228</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>says the great apostle, &ldquo;that neither death, nor
-life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor
-things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor
-depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to
-separate us from the love of God, which is in
-Christ Jesus our Lord&rdquo; (Rom. viii. 35, 38, 39).
-Now these words, &ldquo;I am persuaded,&rdquo; exclude all
-doubt. But what was the foundation of Paul's
-assurance? It was in the infallibility of God alone.
-The epistles of this great apostle, this mystical
-teacher, are often read, but seldom understood;
-yet all the mystic way, its commencement, its
-progress, its end, are described by St Paul, and
-even the divine life; but few are able to understand
-it, and those to whom the light is given see
-it all there clearer than the day.</p>
-
-<p>Ah! if those who find it so difficult to leave
-themselves to God could only experience this,
-they would confess that though the way might be
-arduous, a single day of this life was a sufficient
-recompense for years of trouble. But by what
-means does God bring the soul here? By ways
-altogether opposed to natural wisdom and imagination.
-<a name="png.t.143" id="png.t.143"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">229</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>He builds up by casting down; He gives life
-by killing. Oh! if I could tell what He does, and
-the strange means which He uses to bring us
-here. But silence! men are not able to hear it;
-those who have experienced it know what it is.
-Here there is no need of place or time; all is
-alike, all places are good; and wherever the order
-of God may take us, it is well, because all means
-are useless and infinitely surpassed: when we have
-reached the end, there is nothing left to wish for.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">Here all is God: God is everywhere and in
-everything, and therefore to the soul all is the same.
-Its religion is God Himself, always the same,
-never interrupted; and if sometimes God pours
-some stream of His glory upon its natural powers
-and sensibilities, it has no effect upon the centre,
-which is always the same. The soul is indifferent
-either to solitude or a crowd: it no longer looks
-forward to deliverance from the body in order that
-it may be united to God. It is now not only
-united, but transformed, changed into the Object of
-its love, which causes it no longer to think of
-loving; for it loves God with His own love, and
-naturally, though not inamissibly.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.144" id="png.t.144"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">230</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER III.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">IN WHICH IS EXPLAINED BY A COMPARISON THAT WHICH
-CONCERNS PERFECT UNION OR DEIFORMITY&mdash;SECRETS OF
-GOD REVEALED TO HIS HIDDEN ONES, AND BY THEM TO
-OTHERS&mdash;PERMANENCE AND PROGRESS OF THIS CONDITION,
-THOUGH VARIABLE&mdash;NATURAL CAPACITY MUST BE
-LOST&mdash;THE PARTICIPATED CAPACITY OF GOD BY TRANSFORMATION
-GLOWS INFINITELY.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>A similitude</span> occurs to my mind which appears
-very appropriate to this subject: it is that of
-grain. First it is separated from the husk, which
-sets forth conversion and separation from sin: when
-the grain is separate and pure, it must be ground
-(by affliction, crosses, sickness, &amp;c.); when it is
-thus bruised and reduced to flour, there must still
-be taken from it, not that which is impure, for
-this is gone, but all that is coarse, that is, the bran;
-and when there is nothing left but the fine flour,
-then it is made into bread for food. It appears as
-though the flour were soiled, blackened, and blighted;
-<a name="png.t.145" id="png.t.145"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">231</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>that its delicacy and whiteness were taken from it,
-in order that it may be made into a paste which
-is far less beautiful than the flour. Lastly, this
-paste is exposed to the heat of the fire. Now this
-is precisely what happens to the soul of which I
-have been speaking. But after the bread is baked,
-it is fit for the mouth of the king, who not only
-unites it to himself by contact with it, but eats it,
-digests it, consumes it, and annihilates it, that it may
-enter into his composition, and become part of
-himself.</p>
-
-<p>You will observe that though the bread has been
-eaten by the king, which is the greatest honour it can
-receive, and is its end, yet it cannot be changed into
-his substance unless it be annihilated by digestion,
-losing all its natural form and quality. Oh, how well
-this sets forth all the conditions of the soul; that of
-union being very different to that of transformation,
-in which the soul, in order to become one with God,
-transformed and changed into Him, must not only
-be eaten, but digested, that, after having lost all that
-was its own, it may become one with God Himself:
-&ldquo;That they all may be one, as Thou, Father, art in
-<a name="png.t.146" id="png.t.146"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">232</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>me, and I in Thee; that they also may be one in us,
-I in them, and Thou in me, that they may be made
-perfect in one.&rdquo; (John xvii. 21, 23). &ldquo;He that is
-joined unto the Lord is one spirit&rdquo; (1 Cor. vi. 17).</p>
-
-<p>This state is very little known, therefore it is not
-spoken of. O state of life! how narrow is the way
-which leadeth unto thee! O love the most pure of
-all, because Thou art God Himself! O love immense
-and independent, which nothing can limit or
-straiten!</p>
-
-<p>Yet these people appear quite common, as I have
-said, because they have nothing outwardly to distinguish
-them, unless it be an infinite freedom, which is often
-scandalised by those who are limited and confined
-within themselves, to whom, as they see nothing
-better than they have themselves, all that is different
-to what they possess appears evil. But the holiness
-of these simple and innocent ones whom they
-despise is a holiness incomparably more eminent
-than all which they consider holy, because their own
-works, though performed with such strictness, have
-no more strength than the principle in which they
-originate, which is always the effort, though raised
-<a name="png.t.147" id="png.t.147"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">233</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>and ennobled, of a weak creature; but those who are
-consummated in the divine union act in God by a
-principle of infinite strength; and thus their smallest
-actions are more agreeable to God than the multitude
-of heroic deeds achieved by others, which
-appear so great in the sight of men. Therefore those
-in this degree do not seek for great things to do, resting
-contented with being what God makes them at each
-moment. These do more, without doing anything,
-for the conversion of a kingdom, than five hundred
-preachers who have not attained this condition.</p>
-
-<p>God sometimes, however, permits these people to
-be known, though not fully. Many people apply to
-them for instruction, to whom they communicate a
-vivifying principle, by means of which many more
-are won to Christ; but this is done, without care or
-anxiety, by pure Providence. If people only knew
-the glory which is rendered to God by such as
-these, who are scorned by the world, they would be
-astonished; for it is they who render to God a glory
-worthy of Himself; because God, acting as God
-within them, brings into them a glory worthy of Him.</p>
-
-<p>Oh, how many Christians, quite seraphic in appearance,
-<a name="png.t.148" id="png.t.148"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">234</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>are far from this! But in this condition, as in
-all others, there are souls more or less divine. God
-hides them in His bosom, and under the veil of a
-most common life, so that they may be known to
-Him alone, though they are His delight. Here the
-secrets of God, in Himself and in the hearts of those
-in whom He dwells, are revealed; not by word, sight,
-or light, but by the science of God, which abides
-in Him; and when such people have to write or
-speak, they are themselves astonished to find that
-all flows from a divine centre, without their having
-been aware that they possessed such treasures. They
-find themselves in a profound science, without
-memory or recollection; like an inestimable treasure,
-which is unobserved until there is a necessity for
-its manifestation; and it is in the manifestation
-to others that they find the revelation to themselves.
-When they write, they are astonished to
-find themselves writing of things with which they
-neither knew nor believed themselves to be acquainted;
-although, as they write, they cannot doubt
-their apprehension of them. It is not so with other
-Christians; their light precedes their experience, as a
-<a name="png.t.149" id="png.t.149"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">235</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>person sees from afar the things which he does not
-possess, and describes what he has seen, known,
-heard, &amp;c. But these are persons who hold a
-treasure within themselves, which they do not see
-until after the manifestation, although it is in their
-possession.</p>
-
-<p>Yet, after all, this does not well express the idea
-which I wish to convey. God is in this soul; or
-rather the soul no longer exists; it no longer acts,
-but God acts, and it is the instrument. God includes
-all treasures in Himself, and manifests them
-through this soul to others; and thus, as it draws
-them from its centre, it becomes aware of their
-presence, though it had never reflected upon them
-before. I am sure that any who have attained this
-degree will enter into my meaning, and will easily
-distinguish the difference between the states I have
-described. Those whom I mentioned first, see
-things and enjoy them as we enjoy the sun; but
-the others have become one with the sun itself,
-which does not enjoy nor reflect upon its own light.
-This condition is permanent, and its only vicissitude,
-so far as its centre is concerned, is a greater
-<a name="png.t.150" id="png.t.150"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">236</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>advancement in God: and as God is infinite, He
-can continually make the soul more divine by enlarging
-its capacity, as the water of which we have
-spoken expands in proportion as it is lost in the
-sea, with which it mingles incessantly without ever
-leaving it. It is the same with these souls. All
-who are in this degree have God, but some more
-and some less fully. They are all full, but all do
-not possess an equal plenitude. A little vase when
-full is as truly filled as a larger one, yet it does
-not contain an equal quantity. So all these souls
-are filled with the fulness of God, but it is according
-to their receptive capacity, which capacity
-God continually enlarges. Therefore the longer
-Christians live in this divine condition, the more
-they expand, and their capacity becomes continually
-more immense, without anything being left for
-them to do or desire; for they always possess God
-in His fulness, and He never leaves an empty
-corner in their hearts. As they grow and enlarge,
-He fills them with Himself, as we see with the air.
-A small room is full of air, but a large one contains
-more. If you continually increase the size of a
-<a name="png.t.151" id="png.t.151"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">237</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>room, in the same proportion the air will enter, infallibly
-though imperceptibly: and thus, without
-changing its state or disposition, and without any
-new sensation, the soul increases in capacity and in
-plenitude. But this growing capacity can only be
-received in a state of nothingness, because in any
-other condition there is an opposition to growth.</p>
-
-<p>It may be well here to explain what may appear
-a contradiction, when I say, that the soul must be
-brought to nothing in order to pass into God, and
-that it must lose all that is its own; and yet I speak
-of capacity which it retains.</p>
-
-<p>There are two capacities. One is natural to the
-creature, and this is narrow and limited: when it
-is purified, it is fitted to receive the gifts of God,
-but not God Himself; because what we receive
-within us must of necessity be less than ourselves,
-as that which is enclosed in a vase must be of less
-extent, though it may be of greater value, than the
-vase which contains it.</p>
-
-<p class="pgbrk">But the capacity of which I speak here is a
-capacity to extend and to lose itself more and more
-in God, after the soul has lost its appropriation,
-<a name="png.t.152" id="png.t.152"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">238</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>which confined it to itself; and this capacity being
-no longer restricted nor limited, because its annihilation
-has deprived it of all form, disposes the
-soul to flow into God, so that it loses itself, and
-flows into Him who is beyond comprehension. The
-more it is lost in Him, the more it develops and
-becomes immense, participating in His perfections,
-and being more and more transformed in Him, as
-water in communication with its source continually
-mingles with it. God, being our original source,
-has created us with a nature fit to be united, transformed,
-and made one with Himself.</p>
-
-
-
-
-<h2 class="chap"><a name="png.t.153" id="png.t.153"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">239</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
-
-<h3 class="chap">THE FIRST MOVEMENTS OF THESE SOULS ARE DIVINE&mdash;THEIR
-SUFFERINGS ARE NOT BY REFLECTION, BUT BY IMPRESSION&mdash;GREATNESS
-OF THESE SUFFERINGS, WHICH,
-HOWEVER, DO NOT VARY THEIR REST OR CONTENTMENT
-BECAUSE OF THEIR DEIFICATION, WHICH PROGRESSES
-INFINITELY, BUT GRADUALLY&mdash;THEIR PEACE
-DISTURBED NEITHER BY GOOD NOR EVIL, AS GOD IS
-NEITHER TROUBLED NOR DISTURBED BY THE SIGHT OF
-MAN'S SIN, ALL THINGS CONTRIBUTING TO <span class="nw">HIS GLORY</span>.</h3>
-
-
-<p class="chapstart"><span>The</span> soul has now nothing to do but to remain as
-it is, and to follow without resistance all the
-movements of its Guide. All its movements are of
-God, and He guides it infallibly. It is not thus in
-the inferior conditions, unless it be when the soul
-begins to taste of the centre; but then it is not so infallible,
-and they would be deceived who applied this
-rule to any but the most advanced state.</p>
-
-<p>It is the duty of this soul to follow blindly with
-reflection all the movings of God. Here all reflection
-<a name="png.t.154" id="png.t.154"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">240</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>is banished, and the soul would find a difficulty
-in indulging in it, even if it desired to do so. But
-as by an effort it might accomplish it, this habit
-should be scrupulously avoided; because reflection
-alone has the power of leading man to enter into
-himself, and of drawing him out of God. Now, I say,
-that if man does not go out of God he will never sin;
-and if he sin, it is because he has gone out of Him,
-which can only be the effect of appropriation; and
-the soul can only take itself back from its abandonment
-by reflex action, which would be to it a hell
-similar to that into which the great angel fell when,
-looking with complacency upon himself, and preferring
-himself to God, he became a devil. And this state
-would be more terrible as that which had been previously
-attained was more advanced.</p>
-
-<p>It will be objected that suffering is impossible in
-this condition, not only as to the centre, but also as
-to the senses, because in order to <ins class="TNsilent" title="Transcriber's note:
- there is no indication of any elision in the original, but the sense here suggests a word&mdash;'feel'?&mdash;is missing">suffering</ins> there
-must be reflex action, and it is reflection which constitutes
-the principal and the most painful part of
-suffering. All this is true in a certain sense; and as
-it is a fact that souls far less advanced than these
-<a name="png.t.155" id="png.t.155"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">241</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>suffer sometimes by reflection, sometimes by impression,
-I maintain that it is also true that those in this
-degree cannot suffer otherwise than by impression.
-This does not imply that sorrow may not be unlimited,
-and far more intense than that which is reflected, as
-the burning of one brought into actual contact with
-fire would be much more severe than that of one who
-is burned by the reflection of fire. It will be said,
-But God can teach them by means of reflection how
-to suffer. God will not make use of reflection for
-this end. He can show them in a moment what
-they have to suffer by a direct view, and not by a reflected
-one, as those in heaven see in God that which
-is in Him, and that which passes out from Him to His
-creatures, without looking at these things or reflecting
-upon them, but remaining absorbed and lost in God.
-It is this which deceives so many spiritually-minded
-people, who imagine that nothing can be either known
-or suffered but by reflection. On the contrary, this
-kind of knowledge and suffering is very slight compared
-to that which is imparted in other ways.</p>
-
-<p>All such suffering as can be distinguished and
-known, though expressed in such exaggerated terms,
-<a name="png.t.156" id="png.t.156"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">242</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>does not equal that of those who do not know their
-suffering, and cannot admit that they do suffer, because
-of the great separation between the two parts.
-It is true that they suffer extreme pain; it is true
-that they suffer nothing, and that they are in a state
-of perfect contentment.</p>
-
-<p>I believe that, if such a soul were taken to hell, it
-would suffer all the cruel tortures of its fate in a complete
-contentment, because of the beatitude of its
-transformed centre; and this is the cause of the indifference
-which they feel towards all conditions.</p>
-
-<p>As I have said, this does not prevent their experiencing
-the extremity of suffering, as the extremity
-of suffering does not hinder their perfect happiness.
-Those who have experienced it will be well able to
-understand me.</p>
-
-<p>It is not here as in the passive state of love.
-There the soul is filled with a love of suffering
-and of the good pleasure of God: here it is a loss
-of the will in God by a state of deification, where
-all is God without its being recognised as such.
-The soul is established by its condition in its
-sovereign, unchangeable good. It is in a perfect
-<a name="png.t.157" id="png.t.157"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">243</span><span class="ns">]
- </span>beatitude, where nothing can cross its perfect happiness,
-which is rendered its permanent condition;
-for many possess it temporarily, or know it temporarily,
-before it becomes their permanent condition.
-God gives first the knowledge of the condition,
-then a desire for it; then He gives it confusedly
-and indistinctly; and lastly, He makes it a normal
-condition, and establishes the soul in it for ever.</p>
-
-<p>It will be said that when once the soul is established
-in this condition, nothing more can be done
-for it. It is just the reverse: there is always an
-infinitude to be done on the part of God, not on
-that of the creature. God does not make the life
-divine all at once, but by degrees. Then, as I
-have said, He enlarges the capacity of the soul,
-and can continually deify it more and more, God
-being an unfathomable depth.</p>
-
-<p>O Lord! &ldquo;how great is Thy goodness, which
-Thou hast laid up for them that fear Thee!&rdquo; (Ps.
-xxxi. 19).</p>
-
-<p>It was the sight of this state of blessedness which
-elicited such frequent exclamations from David after
-he had been purified from sin.</p>
-
-<p><a name="png.t.158" id="png.t.158"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
- class="pgmark">244</span><span class="ns">]<br
- /></span>But in conclusion, I say that these persons cannot
-be troubled by sin, because, although they hate
-it infinitely, they no longer suffer from it, seeing it
-as God sees it; and though, if it were necessary,
-they would give their lives to prevent the commission
-of a single sin, if God so willed it, they are
-without action, without desire, without inclination,
-without choice, without impatience, in a state of
-complete death, seeing things only as God sees
-them, and judging them only with God's judgment.</p>
-
-
-<p class="fin">THE END.</p>
-
-
-<hr class="middling" />
-<p class="printed">PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY<br
- />EDINBURGH AND LONDON</p>
-
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="pg" />
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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