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THE WORKS OF
ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS

NIHIL OBSTAT

H. AHAUS, S.T.D.

Censor Deputatus.

IMPRIMATUR

E. CAN. SURMONT

Vicarius Generalis.

WESTMONASTERII

DIE 29 APRILIS 1912.

X

THE LIVING FLAME OF

BY

ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS

WITH HIS

LETTERS, POEMS, AND MINOR WRITINGS

TRANSLATED BY

DAVID LEWIS

WITH AN ESSAY BY CARDINAL WISEMAN

AND ADDITIONS AND AN INTRODUCTION
BY

BENEDICT ZIMMERMAN, O.C.D.

Prior of St. Luke's, Wincanton

118288

LONDON
THOMAS BAKER

MCMX1X

First Revised Edition 1912
Reprinted 1919

CONTENTS

PAGE

AN ESSAY ON ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS, BY CARDINAL

WISEMAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix

INTRODUCTION, BY REV. BENEDICT ZIMMERMAN . . . . xliii

THE LIVING FLAME OF LOVE

PROLOGUE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . i

STANZAS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3

STANZA I 4

STANZA II . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

STANZA III 56

STANZA IV 118

INSTRUCTIONS AND PRECAUTIONS .. .. .. .. ..131

LETTERS .. .. .. .. ... .. .. .. 143

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183

POEMS 251

INDEX TO PASSAGES FROM HOLY SCRIPTURES .. .. .. 311

INDEX . . 315

vii

AN ESSAY ON ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS

WRITTEN BY HIS EMINENCE CARDINAL WISEMAN
AS A PREFACE TO THE FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

IT is now many years ago, long before the episcopal
burthen pressed upon his shoulders, that the
author enjoyed the pleasure of knowing, and
frequently conversing with, the estimable Gorres
at Munich. One day the conversation turned
on a remark in tfyat deep writer's Philosophy of
Mysticism, to the effect that saints most re
markable for their mystical learning and piety
were far from exhibiting, in their features and
expression, the characteristics usually attributed
to them. They are popularly considered, and by
artists represented, as soft, fainting, and perhaps
hysterical persons ; whereas their portraits pre
sent to us countenances of men, or women, of a
practical, business-like, working character.

The author asked Gorres if he had ever seen
an original likeness of St. Teresa, in whom he had
thought these remarks were particularly exempli
fied. He replied that he never had ; and the
writer, on returning to Rome, fulfilled the promise

ix

X PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

which he had made the philosopher, by procuring
a sketch of an authentic portrait of that saint,
preserved with great care in the Monastery of St.
Sylvester, near Tusculum. It f was painted for
Philip II. by a concealed artist, while he was
conversing with her.

This portrait confirms most strongly the theory
of Gorres, as the author wrote to him with the
drawing ; for while no mystical saint has ever
been more idealised by artists, or represented as
living in a continual swoon, than St. Teresa, her
true portraits all represent her with strong,
firmly set, and almost masculine features, with
forms and lines that denoted vigour, resolution,
and strong sense. Her handwriting perfectly
suggests the same conclusion.

Still more does the successful activity of her
life, in her many painful struggles, under every
possible disadvantage, and her final and complete
triumph, strengthen this idea of her. And then,
her almost superhuman prudence, by which she
guided so many minds, and prosperously con
ducted so many complicated interests and affairs,
and her wonderful influence over men of high
education and position, and of great powers, are
further evidences of her strong, commanding
nature ; such as, in the world, might have claimed
an almost unexampled pre-eminence.

It is not improbable that some who take up

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XI

these volumes, or dip into them here and there,
may conceive that they were written by a dreamy
ascetic, who passed his life in hazy contemplation
of things unreal and unpractical. Yet it was
quite the contrary. Twin-saint, it may be said,
to St. Teresa — sharer in her labours and in her
sufferings, St. John of the Cross, actively and
unflinchingly pursued their joint object, that of
reforming and restoring to its primitive purity
and observance the religious Order of Carmelites,
and founding, throughout Spain, a severer branch,
known as discalced, or barefooted Carmelites ; or
more briefly, as Teresians.

We do not possess any autobiography of St.
John, as we do of St. Teresa, or the more active
portion and character of his life would be at once
apparent. Moreover, only very few of his letters
have been preserved— not twenty, in fact — or we
should undoubtedly have had sufficient evidence
of his busy and active life. But, even as it is,
proofs glance out from his epistles of this im
portant element in his composition.

In his [third] letter he thus writes to the
religious of Veas, a highly favoured foundation :
' What is wanting in you, if, indeed, anything be
wanting, is ... silence and work. For, whereas
speaking distracts, silence and action collect
the thoughts and strengthen the spirit/ And
again : ' To arrest this evil, and to preserve our

Xii PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

spirit, as I have said, there is no surer remedy
than to suffer, to work, to be silent/

It was not, therefore, a life of visionary or
speculative meditation that St. John taught even
the nuns to pursue, but one of activity and
operative occupation. But we may judge of his
own practice by a passage in another of his
letters. Thus he writes :

' I have been waiting to finish these visitations
and foundations which our Lord has hastened
forward in such wise that there has been no time
to spare. The friars have been received at
Cordova with the greatest joy and solemnity on
the part of the whole city. ... I am now busied
at Seville with the removal of the nuns, who have
bought one of the principal houses at a cost of
about 14,000 ducats, being worth more than
20,000. They are now established there. Before
my departure I intend to establish another house
of friars here, so that there will be two of our
Order in Seville. Before the feast of St. John, I
shall set forth to Ecija, where, with the Divine
blessing, we shall found another ; thence to
Malaga. ... I wish I had authority to make this
foundation, as I had for the other. I do not
expect much difficulty ' * (Letter VII).

* The writer has had the pleasure of visiting these early foundations
at Seville, Ecija, Malaga, and Granada. The first fervour of the
Order yet remains in them.

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN xiii

This is only a few months' work, or rather some
weeks' ; for the interval described in the letter
is from the Ascension to the 24th of June. We
must allow some portion of this time for the slow
travelling of those days and those regions, over
sierras, on muleback. And then, St. John's
travels were not triumphal progresses, but often
were painful pilgrimages, crossed by arrests, and
even long imprisonments, embittered by personal
unkindness.

Yet with calm firmness he persevered and
travelled and worked at the establishment of his
new houses in many parts of Spain, till the Order
was fully and permanently planted. In fact, if
we look only at his life, we should naturally con
clude that he was a man of an operative mind,
always at work, ever in movement, who could not
afford much time for inward concentration on
abstract subjects.

But when we read his writings, another high
quality, for which we are not prepared, must
strike us forcibly as entering into the composition
of his character. He must have given much
time to reading and study. He is learned in all
those pursuits which we desire and expect to find
in an ecclesiastical scholar of his age. Every
page in his book gives proof of thorough acquaint
ance with that mental discipline which trained
and formed the mind in the schools, and gave a

Xiv PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

mould into which thought ran and settled itself
in fixed principles ; or, where this possessed
extraordinary power, opened a channel through
which it passed to further spheres of activity.
Even the mind of a Bacon was conducted through
the dialects of those schools to all the develop
ments of his intellectual vigour.

In St. John we discover, at every turn, a mind
so educated by reading and by study. His
writings are far from being a string of loose,
disjointed thoughts, scattered apophthegms, or
aimless rhapsodies. Quite on the contrary, there
is ever a sequence and strict logical continuity in
every division of his discourse, and all the several
parts are coherent and consistent. However de
tailed his treatment of his subject, he never
becomes entangled or confused ; he never drops
a thread of what may appear a fine-spun web of
expansion in a difficult topic, and loses it ; but
he returns to what he has interrupted or inter
calated with undisturbed fidelity, and repursues
his reasoning with a distinctness and discrimina
tion which shows that, in truth, there had been
no interruption, but that unity of thought had
pervaded all the design, and nothing had been left
to chance or the idea of the moment.

Indeed, one feels in reading him that he has to
deal with the master of a science. There is no
wandering from the first purpose, no straying

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XV

aside from the pre-determined road, after even
flowers that grow on its sides. Every division
and subdivision of the way has been chartered from
the beginning by one who saw it all before him.
And the secret lies in this, and nothing more ;
St. John invents nothing, borrows nothing from
others, but gives us clearly the results of his own
experience in himself and in others. He presents
you with a portrait, not with a fancy picture.
He represents the ideal of one who has passed, as
he had done, through the career of the spiritual
life, through its struggles and its victories.

Not only does he at all times exhibit proof of
his mental cultivation by those processes which
formed every great mind in those days, and the
gradual decline of which, in later times, has led
proportionably to looseness of reasoning and
diminution of thinking power, but St. John
throughout exhibits tokens of a personal culture
of his own mental powers and many graceful
gifts.

His mind is eminently poetical, imaginative,
tender, and gentle. Whatever mystical theology
may appear to the mind of the uninitiated, to St.
John it was clearly a bright and well-loved pur
suit ; it was a work of the heart more than of the
head ; its place was rather in the affections than
among the intellectual powers. Hence, with every
rigour of logical precision and an unbending

XVi PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

exactness in his reasonings, there is blended a
buoyancy of feeling, a richness of varied illustra
tion, and often a sweet and elegant fancy playing
with grave subjects, so as to render them attrac
tive, which show a mind unfettered by mere
formal methods, but easy in its movements and
free in its flights. Indeed, often a point which is
obscure and abstruse, when barely treated, re
ceives, from a lively illustration, a clearness and
almost brilliancy quite unexpected.

But the prominent learning of the saint, and
the source of his most numerous and happiest
elucidations, are to be found in the inspired Word
of God. That is his treasure-house, that the
inspirer of his wisdom and subject of his medita
tion. The sacred volume must have been in his
hands all day, and can hardly have dropped out
of them at night. Even by merely glancing at
the index of texts quoted by him, placed at the
end of [each] volume, any one may convince
himself of his rare familiarity with the inspired
writings, and one very different from what we
may find among readers of Scripture in our
days.

For, first, it is an impartial familiarity, not
confined to some favourite portions as is often
the case, where the reader thinks he finds passages
or subjects that confirm his own views or en
courage his tastes. But in St. John we discover

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XV11

nothing of this sort. Of course, such a book as
the Canticle, the special food of mystics, is familiar
to his pen as it was to the mouths of Jewish
maidens, made sweeter and sweeter by frequent
reiterations. But every other book is almost
equally ready to his hand, to prove more formally,
occasionally illustrate, every one of his proposi
tions. For the first purpose he must have deeply
studied the sacred text ; for the second, its
expressions must have been his very household
words.

Then, secondly, the beauty and elegance of his
applications prove not mere familiarity, but a
refined study and a loving meditation on what
he considers most holy and divine. Some of his
quotations are richly set in his graceful explana
tions and commentaries ; and though the adapta
tions which he makes sometimes appear startling
and original to an ordinary peruser of Scripture,
they seem so apt and so profound in their spiritual
wisdom that they often win approbation and even
admiration.

So far it may appear that this Preface has dealt
with St. John of the Cross outside of the sphere
in which the volume to which it is prefixed repre
sents him as moving. It has not treated him as
a mystical theologian. Why is this ? it may be
justly asked.

The answer must be honest and straight-
b

XViii PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

forward. It is too common for overlooking or
disguising, to pronounce a contemplative life to
be only a cloak for idleness, a pretext for abandon
ing or neglecting the active duties of domestic or
social existence, and shrinking from their responsi
bilities. Those who profess to lead it are .con
sidered as the drones of the human hive, who
leave its work to others and yet exact a share of
its sweets. And if, from time to time, one
emerges from the passive, or, as it is deemed,
indolent condition of mere dreamers and gives
form and precision to the rules and laws which
guide them, he is probably held merely to have
more method and skill in his disordered ideas, and
to be only more pernicious than his companions
or followers.

This prejudice, firmly rooted in many English
minds, it has been thought well to remove, as a
preliminary to presenting St. John to his readers
in his highest and distinctive character. He has
been shown to possess other eminent qualities.
He was a man of active life and practical abilities,
industrious, conversant with business, where pru
dence, shrewdness, and calculation, as well as
boldness, were required. He was a man of well-
trained mind, cultivated by the exercise of
intellectual faculties, and matured by solid, es
pecially religious knowledge.

He has now to come before us as a diver into

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XIX

the very depths of thought, as a contemplative of
the highest order.

A man with such a character as we have claimed
for him cannot have dozed away his years of life
in unpractical dreams or in crude speculations.
These would be incompatible with the rest of his
character. His contemplativeness, and his mode
of explaining it, may be anticipated to be metho
dical and practical, and at the same time feeling
and attractive. And such both are his own
practice and his communication of it to us.

But now, perhaps, many readers may ask for
some introductory information on the very nature
of the subjects treated in the volumes before him,
and it cannot be reasonably refused. This may
be conveyed in various ways ; perhaps the most
simple and appreciable will be found in an analogy,
though imperfect, with other spheres of thought.

It is well known that a mind naturally adapted
to a pursuit, and thus led ardently to follow it,
after having become thoroughly conversant and
familiar with all its resources, becomes almost, or
altogether, independent of its methods, and at
tains conclusions by compendious processes, or
by intuitive foresight, which require in others
long and often complicated deductions. Familiar
illustrations may be found in our habitual speak
ing without thinking of our grammar, which a
foreigner has constantly to do while learning our

XX PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

language ; or the almost inexplicable accuracy
of calculation in even children gifted with the
power of instantaneous arithmetical solutions.

A mathematician acquires by study this faculty ;
and it is said that Laplace, in the decline of life,
could not any longer fill up the gaps in the pro
cesses by which, at the age of greater mental
vigour, he had reached, without effort, the most
wonderful yet accurate conclusions.

What is to be found in these abstruser pursuits
exists no less in those of a lighter character. The
literary mind, whether in thinking, writing, or
speaking, when well disposed by abilities and
well tutored by application, takes in without
effort the entire theme presented to it, even with
its parts and its details. Sometimes it is like a
landscape revealed, in a dark night, by one flash
of lightning ; oftener it resembles the calmer
contemplation of it, in bright day, by an artist's
eye, which is so filled with its various beauties
that it enables him to transfer it, at home, to the
enduring canvas on which many may enjoy it.

The historian may see, in one glance, the exact
plan of a work, with its specific aims and views ;
its sources, too, and its auxiliary elucidations.
The finished orator, no less, when suddenly called
upon, will. hold from end to end the drift and
purpose of his entire discourse, and deliver, with
out effort, what to others appears an elaborate

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XXI

composition. But still more, the poet indulges
in noblest flights up to the regions of sublime, or
over the surface of beautiful, thoughts, while he
appears to be engaged in ordinary occupation or
momentarily musing in vague abstraction.

Indeed, even where manual action is required
to give utterance to thought, the result is the same.
The consummate musician sits down to a com
plicated instrument, silent and dumb till his
fingers communicate to it his improvised imagin
ings ; bearing to its innermost organisation, by
a sort of reflex action of the nerves of sensation
on those of motion, the ready and inexhaustible
workings of his brain, sweet melodies and rich
harmonies, with tangled knots and delicious
resolutions ; effortless, as if the soul were in the
hand or the mechanical action in the head.

In the few examples which are here given, and
which might easily be multiplied, the point
illustrated is this : that where, with previous
natural dispositions and persevering cultivation,
perfection in any intellectual pursuit has been
attained or approached, the faculty exercised in
it becomes, in a manner, passive, dispenses with
intermediate processes, and receives their ultimate
conclusions stamped upon it. Labour almost
ceases, and spontaneity of thought becomes its
substitute.

In this condition of mind, familiar to any one

Xxii PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

possessing genius in any form, perceptions, ideas,
reasonings, imagery, have not to be sought ; they
either dart- at once complete into the thought,
inborn and perfect to their very arms, as Pallas
was symbolically fabled to express this process ;
or they grow up, expanding from a small seed to
a noble plant, but as if by an innate sap and
vigour. There is a flow into the mind of un
sought images, or reflections, or truths ; whence
they come, one hardly knows. They were not
there before ; they have not been forged, or cast,
or distilled within.

And when this spontaneous productiveness has
been gained, the occupation of mind is not in
terrupted. St. Thomas is said to have concluded
an argument against the Manichees alone at the
royal table ; Bishop Walmesley renounced his
mathematical studies on finding them painfully
distract him at the altar. Neither recreation,
nor serious employment, nor noise, nor any condi
tion of time or place, will suffice to dissipate or
even to disturb the continuous, unlaborious,
and unfatiguing absorption of thought in the
mental region which has become its natural
dwelling.

Let us now ask, Why may not a soul— that is, the
mind accompanied by the best feelings — be placed
in a similar position with relation to the noblest
and sublimest object which it can pursue — GOD ?

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XX111

He and his attributes present more perfect
claims, motives, and allurements, and more full
gratification, repletion, and reward to earnest and
affectionate contemplation, than any other object
or subject. How much soever the mathematician
may strain his intellect in pursuit of the true,
however the poet may luxuriate in the enjoyment
of the beautiful, to whatsoever extent the
moralist may delight in the apprehension of the
good in its recondite quintessence, none of these
can reach, in his special aim and longing, that
elevation and consummation which can be attained
in those of all the three, by one whose contempla
tion is directed to the Infinite in Truth, in Beauty,
and in Goodness.*

Why then, should not this, so comprehensive
and so grand a source of every mental enjoyment,
become a supreme, all-exhausting, and sole object
of contemplative fruition ? Why should not
some, or rather many, minds be found which have
selected this as their occupation, their solace,
their delight ; and found it to be what none other
can of its nature be, inexhaustible ? Everything
else is measurable and fathomable ; this alone
unlimited.

* It is recorded of the celebrated, though perhaps eccentric scholar,
Raymund Lully, that once he entered the school of Duns Scotus, to
whom he was unknown. The lecturer addressed to him the question,
Quotuplcx pars scientiae est Dens ? — ' What part of knowledge in
cludes God ? ' His reply overmastered the interrogator : Deus nan
est pars, qui est Totum — ' God is in no part — He is the WHOLE.'

XXIV PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

Then, if there be no repugnance to such a
choice being made in the aim of contemplation,
it is natural for us to expect conditions and laws
in its attainments analogous to what we find
where the mental powers have selected for their
exercise some inferior and more restricted object.
There will be the same gradual and often slow
course of assiduous training, the same difficulty
of fixing and concentrating the thoughts ; till, by
degrees, forms and intermediate steps are dis
pensed with ; when the mind becomes passive,
and its trains of thought seem spontaneous and
in-coming, rather than worked out by elaborating
processes.

This state, when God is the sole occupier of
thought, represents the highest condition of
contemplation, the reaching of which Mystical
Theology professes to direct.

There are, however, two essential differences
between the natural and the spiritual exercises of
the contemplative faculties. In treating of the
first, a natural aptitude was named throughout
as a condition for attaining that highest sphere
of spontaneous suggestion in the mind. In the
second, this condition is not included. Its
place is taken by the supernatural power of
GRACE.

Every believer in Christianity acknowledges
the existence of an inward gift, which belongs of

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XXV

right to all ; though many may not choose to
claim it. It takes the place of mere natural
advantages so completely, that its name has
become a rooted word in our language, even apart
from religion. We say that a man ' has had, or
has not had, the grace ' to do a good thing ;
' a graceless act ' is, in some way, evil ; ' a grace
less youth ' is one walking, somehow, on the path
leading to perdition. And we feel, and say, that
it is grace which makes a poor man often more
virtuous, and virtuously wise, though ignorant,
and in other ways not wise-minded, than clever,
better-educated, and more intellectual rich ones.
Whoever thus believes in a superhuman gift,
which supplies, in the higher life of man, the
ordinary powers of nature, or elevates these to
the attainment of what requires more than ordi
nary qualities, will hardly be able to deny that
this supernatural aid will be copiously granted,
where the whole energy of a soul is directed
exclusively to the most holy and sublime of
purposes, the knowledge and contemplation of
God. If it be easily accepted that any one read
ing, with pure and simple docility, His written
records is helped by this grace to understand
them, it surely is not much to ask, that one may
expect no less assistance when, instead of the eye
running over a written page, the entire soul is
centred in Him, and every power, and every

XXVi PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

affection, is absorbed in deep and silent medita
tion on His own Divine essence.

A further distinction between the application
of man's noblest faculties, combined to their
simplest but sublimest possible object, and their
separate exercise on any inferior speculation,
consists in this. God, towards Whom the mystical
contemplative directs himself, is a living, active
Power, at once without and within the soul.
Every Christian believes that He deals as such
with the individual man ; that in his natural
life each one has received his destiny, his time
and place, and measure of both, by a special
allotment ; that in his outward being, whatever
befalls him, he is the ward of a personal Provi
dence ; while in his inward and unseen existence
he receives visitations of light, of remorse, of
strength, and of guidance, which can apply and
belong to him alone.

If so, how can he doubt that one of his own
kind and class, who, more than tens of thousands,
singles out that Giver of every good gift as super-
eminent, or rather sole claimant of his soul's best
tributes ; the throne on which all his ideal con
ceptions of the great and the good are concentrated
in a single unclouded vision of majesty and glory ;
the altar on which are laid, in willing oblation, all
his tenderest affections, and, in ready immolation,
every inferior appetite and desire — who can doubt

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XXV11

that such a one establishes a right to a larger
share than others of the active interposition of
Divine kindness, and of personal favour in second
ing his disinterested love ?

These two differences, great and essential,
show that we have been only illustrating, rather
than vindicating, the spiritual science of St.
John, by comparing it with other classes of
knowledge. We have endeavoured to prove that,
even prescinding from the spiritual quality, which
is its characteristic, there is nothing singular,
unnatural, or reprehensible in what would only
add one more, and a most worthy, mental pursuit
to those which generally receive not mere appro
bation but praise.

And hence the religious and ascetic contem
plative may be allowed not only to deserve equal
admiration with the poet or philosopher, but to
be as fit as either for the ordinary duties of life,
and in as full possession of practical .and social
virtues.

Having thus, by this analogy, disposed the
uninitiated reader to judge unprejudicedly of this
spiritual occupation of so many persons of sin
gularly virtuous life in the Catholic Church,
we may invite him to consider if it have not
strong presumptions in its favour.

But, first, it may be well to give a brief ex
planation of this religious mysticism of which

XXV111 PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

the works of St. John are considered to treat so
admirably. What we have already said will
greatly assist us.

In the Catholic Church, besides public or
private vocal prayer, every one is directed and
urged to the practice of mental prayer, or medita
tion. For this duty the Church furnishes simple
rules and methods, varying somewhat, but all
with one practical end. She has at hand almost
countless models, forms, and even fully developed
drafts, scarcely requiring to be filled in.

In carrying out this familiar practice, it will
be obvious that very different degrees of success
will be attained. To some it continues, almost
to the end, irksome and trying, full of distraction
and imperfection. This may easily arise from
natural deficiencies in the mind, or from habitual
negligence. But to a willing and persevering mind
these difficulties will diminish, and the power
of concentrating the thoughts and affections upon
a given subject will increase and strengthen.

Thus far any one may aspire, with every chance
of success. Then comes a higher stage : when
this power of fixing the mind is not only easy but
most pleasing ; when, without formal guidance,
the soul rests, like the bird poised upon its wings,
motionless above the earth, plunged, as it were,
in the calm atmosphere which surrounds and
sustains it on every side. This is the state of

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XXIX

contemplation, when the placid action of a
deeply inward thoughtfulness, undisturbed by
other objects, is intent on gazing upon images
and scenes fixed or passing as on a mirror before
it, without exertion or fatigue, almost without
note of time.

This condition, with its requisite power, is
also attainable by those who regularly and
seriously apply to meditation.* Yet, when we
have reached it, we are still standing on the
ground, and have not set foot on the first step
of the ' mystical ladder ' which St. John teaches
how to mount.

Far above the earthly exercise of contemplation
is one which belongs to a much higher and purer
sphere, above the clouds and mists of the one in
which we move. To reach it is given to few ;
and of those few, fewer still have left us records
of their experience. Yet — and this is sufficient
for our present purpose — that the consummation
of their desires, and attainment of their scope,
was a closer union with God, is acknowledged by
all. The soul, thoroughly purified of all other
affections, reaches a sublime and supernatural
power of setting all its faculties in the contempla-

* Any one familiar with the Exercises of St. Ignatius will understand
the difference between meditation and contemplation, in the sense
here used ; and how from one he is led to the other. This is very
different from the ' prayer of contemplation ' which belongs to
mystical theology.

XXX PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

tion of the Supreme Being with such clearness
and intensity, that its very existence seems lost
in Him ; the most perfect conformity and uni
formity with all the emanations of His will are
established as its guiding laws ; and, as far as
is yet compatible, union the most complete is
obtained between the imperfect spirit of man and
the infinite Spirit that created it to its own image
and likeness.

Now, this aim of infirm humanity, and the
possibility of reaching it, may appear, at first
sight, extravagant and presumptuous. Yet there
has hardly ever, if ever, existed a religious system
which has not supposed such an aspiration as
its highest, but still possible, flight to be within
the reach of some more favoured votaries.

It is too well known to require proof that there
existed, beyond a gross visible idolatry, a hidden,
esoteric, and mysterious system in the mytholo
gies of the East, handed down in the succession
of their priesthoods. The mystic teachings of
India, the best known to us, because we possess
their works, reveal this doctrine to us, that
contemplation is the means by which a man may
attain to unification of himself with the Deity,
rising by steps gradually to this almost blissful
enjoyment of His presence. In China the sect
or school of Lao-tseu, with which the learned
Abel Remusat made Europe acquainted by a

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XXXI

special memoir, taught and practised the same
mystical system.

Chaldea and Egypt no doubt held it also ; for
it was from them that Pythagoras borrowed, and
infused into the philosophy of Greece and Italy
precisely the same doctrine ; for while his
foolish theory, also Oriental, of transmigration
put off to ah indefinite period the fruition of the
Divine essence, he taught that the soul, thoroughly
purified and detached from every inferior affec
tion, could, through contemplation, attain a
union with God.

Although this sublime philosophy became ob
scured in the ages which succeeded him, it shone
forth again in the Neoplatonic school— in Plotinus,
Porphyrius and their followers. Whether they
merely revived a faded, or published an occult,
tradition of their heathen philosophy, or whether
they were disfigured doctrines and practices from
the still young and fresh Christianity of their
times, it matters but little. In the one case we
conclude how instinctive it is to man, even amidst
absurd wanderings of his intellect, to expect,
nay to crave for, not merely an approach to God,
but unification with him ; * and such a noble and
holy desire and longing of humanity may naturally

* In races of both continents a ruder yet deeply symbolical feeling
prevailed at all times, that incorporation with the Deity was obtained
by partaking of the victims offered to Him. See Gerbet's beautiful
treatise, Sur le Dogme ginfrateuv de la Ptttt Catholique.

XXX11 PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

expect to find satisfaction in the true revelation
of man's Creator.

In the second hypothesis, we must admit that
already Christianity had sufficiently developed
the germs of its mystical system to be known to
aliens, and even enemies.

Indeed, we cannot doubt that the religion of
Christ, following the early manifestations of God
in the Old Testament, laid deep those seeds of
highest contemplation which were at once matured
in His apostles. St. Paul, who was taken to the
third heaven, to hear words unutterable to man and
to require a severe counterpoise to the greatness
of his revelations (2 Cor. xii.), came to be united
with his Lord so as to hold but one life with and
in Him (Gal. ii. 20 ; Phil. i. 21).

As to the existence, in the seers and holy sages
of the Old Law, of a state of unitive contempla
tion, as in Abraham, Job, Moses, and Elias, we
are not called aside to speak or consider. This
point may be safely left in the hands of St. John
of the Cross ; for though he does not anywhere
expressly treat of this point, he has so filled his
pages with quotations from every part of Scripture
in illustration of his teaching, and the texts
alleged by him are so apt and naturally applied,
as to force conviction upon us that the mystical
and spiritual communion with God was carried
to the highest degree. Nay, does not a state of

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XXX111

close intercommunion between God and man,
through revelations, manifestations, angelic
messages, and the prophetic spirit, on the one
hand, and visions and ecstasies on the other,
necessarily suppose it ? And does the frequent
boldness of the Psalmist's familiarity with God,
still more the domestic intimacy with Him so
tenderly shadowed forth in the Canticle of Can
ticles, allow of any alternative except the highest
and purest admission of a perishable and frail
creature into the very sanctuary of the Divine
glory ? Surely on Sinai and in the cave of Horeb
such loving intercourse of almost friendship was
held.

But the history of the Church soon unfolds to
us a bright page, on which is emblazoned, as
its title, CONTEMPLATION. At the very time
when martyrs are shedding their blood and re
ceiving the highest homage and praise, the Church,
which so loves and honours them, reveres scarcely
less the hundreds who fled from the very persecu
tions which the martyrs encountered and over
came. And the reason was, that the anchorets
and cenobites, who retired to the desert and did
not again return to the world after peace was
restored to the Church, but swelled their numbers
to thousands, were considered by her no less
conquerors of the world and triumphers over the
weakness of nature. Their lives of solitude and

XXXiv PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

silence were not idle, for they laboured with their
hands for their slender sustenance ; but this was
expressly the rule of their lives, that even while
their hands were at work, their minds should be
fixed on God. And hours of the dark night had
no other occupation.

It was this power of fixed and unflagging
contemplation which sustained them through
eighty, often, and a hundred years of seclusion.
Many were men of refined minds and high educa
tion, who, in their thoughtful meditative lives,
must be supposed to have attained the highest
refinement of devout application to spiritual
things which can be enjoyed on earth. And
what pious solitaries thus gained in the desert of
the Thebais, our own hermits, like Guthlake, and
monks, like Cuthbert, as surely possessed. With
out the peaceful enjoyment of such a sweet
interior reward, their lives would have been
intolerable.

So necessary does the power of communing
with God alone, and ' face to face/ appear to
every class of Christians, that not only the ascetics
of the Eastern Church, or the mystics of the
Western, profess to possess it, but even the least
enthusiastic forms of religion claim, or admit it.
Jacob Bohme and Swedenborg have found plenty
of admirers : the latter is still leader of a sect,
It would be invidious to enter into a comparison

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XXXV

between the writings of these men and the volumes
before us. We refer to them only as evidence
that every form of Christianity feels the want of
some transcendental piety, which bears the soul
beyond the . dominion and almost out of the
prison of the ' body of death/ and allows it a free
and familiar intercourse with God, as of spirit
with spirit.

When, however, perusing the writings of St.
John, the reader will find no symptom of fanati
cism, no arrogation of superior; privileges, of
inspirations, Divine guidance, or angelic ministra
tions, as are to be found in pretended mystics.
There is scarcely an allusion to himself, except
occasionally to apologise for being so unequal
to the sublime doctrines which he is unfolding, or
for the rudeness of his style. Never, for a mo
ment, does he let us know that he is communica
ting to us the treasures of his own experience, or
describing his own sensations. One sees and
knows it. A man who writes a handbook of
travel need not tell us whether or no he has
passed over the route himself. We feel if he has,
by the minuteness of his details, by the freshness
of his descriptions, by the exactness of his ac
quaintance with men and things.

Then, no one who had not tasted, and relished,
the sweetness of the spiritual food prepared by
him, could possibly treat of it with such zest ;

XXXvi PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

its delicious flavour is on the lips that speak
about it. Nor need the reader imagine that he
will hear from this humble and holy man accounts
of visions, or ecstasies, or marvellous occurrences
to himself or others ; or rules or means for at
taining supernatural illuminations or miraculous
gifts. No ; he proposes to guide any pupil, who
feels drawn by God, to supreme love of Him, and
towards those regions of contemplative prayer
in which He often communicates Himself most
intimately /to the human soul ; but only through
a dark and painful road, from which all joy and
almost consolation is excluded .

It is now time to lay before the reader an
outline, though imperfect, of what he will find
in the volumes before him. The [two first] con
tain two treatises, embodying what may be
called the portion of mystical instruction, most
fully and excellently imparted by St. John.

It may be considered a rule in this highest
spiritual life, that before it is attained there
must be a period of severe probation, lasting often
many years, and separating it from the previous
state, which may have been one of most exalted
virtue. Probably many whom the Catholic
Church honours as saints have never received
this singular gift. But in reading the biography
of such as have been favoured with it, we shall
invariably find that the possession of it has been

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XXXVll

preceded, not only by a voluntary course of
mortification of sense, fervent devotion, constant
meditation, and separation from the world, but also
by a trying course of dryness, weariness of spirit,
insipidity of devotional duties, and, what is
infinitely worse, dejection, despondency, tempta
tion to give all up in disgust, and almost despair.
During this tremendous probation, the soul is
dark, parched, and wayless, as ' earth without
water/ as one staggering across a desert ; or,
to rise to a nobler illustration, like Him, remotely,
Who lay on the ground on Olivet, loathing the
cup which He had longed for, beyond the sweet
chalice which He had drunk with His apostles
just before.

Assuming, as we do, that this trial comes upon
the soul from God, its purpose is clear. That
sublime condition to which it aspires, and is
called, of spiritual union with infinite holiness,
and of the nearest approach allowable to the
closer gazing of blessed spirits into the unfathom
able glory, requires a purity like gold in the
crucible, and a spiritualising unclothing of what
ever can be cast off, of our earthly and almost of
our corporeal existence. The soul is to be winged,
strongly as the eagle, gently as the dove,* to

* ' They shall take wings as eagles ; they shall run and not be weary '
(Isa. xl. 31). ' Who will give me wings like a dove, and I will fly and
be at rest ? ' (Psalm liv. 7).

XXXViii PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

leave all this world behind it, and seek a sweet
repose.

Detachment and purity are the reasons for
this intermediate state of desolation ; detach
ment not merely from outward objects and from
visible bonds, but from our own wills and desires,
however virtuous ; detachment from our own
ways of even seeking God, and still more from our
sensible enjoyment of devotion, and the very
sweetness of His service. There must be no
trust in one's own intellect, where faith alone can
guide through the deep darkness ; no reliance
upon the ordinary aids to contemplation, for the
very impulses and first thrilling touches of love
must come from God's delicate hand ; no im
patience for release, no desire to return back.
It is an earthly purgatory, in which all dross is
painfully drained out, all straw and stubble
burnt up.

And what is the result ? The soul has indeed
been brought into a state little below that of
angels ; but it has given proof of a love than
which theirs cannot be higher. That dark period
of hard probation has completely inured her to
fidelity to God, not for the sake of His rewards,
not for the happiness of His service even here
below, but for His own dear and good sake, be
cause He is her God. And this persevering and
persisting love of Him, without a ray or even a

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN XXXix

glimmering of the brightness of His countenance
to light and cheer the dreary path, has surely,
by gentle patience, won a returning love beyond
the claims of ordinarily virtuous souls.

It is after this often long, but always severe,
trial of faithful love, that what one may call the
mystical espousals of God with the soul take
place ; when its spiritual existence may be said
to have been raised into a heavenly sphere ;
when the exercise of that sublime privilege of
contemplation has become so habitual, that
scarce do the knees touch the ground in prayer
than the affections flash upwards from the heart,
and are embosomed and absorbed at once in
almost blissful fruition in God's mighty love.
And when the body is busy with the affairs of
life, these no more hinder the familiar colloquies
and the burning glances of affection directed to
the one exclusive Ruler of the soul, than did the
slim and light palm-leaves woven by the desert
anchoret distract his thoughts.

This happy consummation of both trials and
desires forms the subject of mystical treatises by
many who have enjoyed it. St. John does not,
except incidentally, dwell upon it. He does not
systematically deal with those who bask on the
summit of that spiritual Thabor ; he only guides
the pilgrim to it. The ascent to the mystical
mountain is rugged and steep ; the journey can

Xl PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

only be made in the darkness of probationary
privations of inward light and joy. Hence the
titles of his two great treatises — The Ascent of
Mount Carmel ; The Obscure Night of the Soul.

Each of these worksl may be said to go over
the same ground, though without repetitions, or
even tiresome similarities. To each is prefixed
a poem of eight stanzas, which form not merely
an introduction, but an argument rather, to a
full dissertation on mystical science. But our
author does not go beyond the two or three first
strophes in his commentary, which often expands
to many chapters : copious, most methodical
and rich upon one only line.

Mount Carmel is his natural type of the spiritual
mount ; for there dwelt his ' Father Elias '
(Ascent, bk. II., ch. xx. 2), whom the Carmelites
revere as their model and founder ; and there
in a dark cavern he spake with God, and even
caught a glimpse of His glorious being, in His
might, and in His gentleness (3 Kings xix. 8).
Up, up, slowly but warily, he guides his scholar
along the steep and perilous ascent. He may be
compared to the Alpine guide who, himself
familiar with the craggy path and sure of his
steps, is all solicitude for his inexperienced charge,
and watches and directs every movement. He
makes him keep his eyes intent on the rude path
before his feet, or on the slippery stair which he

BY CARDINAL WISEMAN xli

has cut out for them. He does not allow him
to look down into the valley below, beautiful
though it be, lest his head turn giddy, and he
topple over the bluff precipice; nor to gaze
upwards, in immature hope, towards the bright
pinnacles which reflect and refract the sun's
rays, lest he become weary at their distance, and
blinded by their brilliancy, and unable to pick
his steps. Now the faithful guide takes his hand
and leads him; now he bids him rely on his
trusty pole, throwing his weight upon it ; now
he encourages him to gather all his strength, and
bound over the yawning crevasse. And so in
the end he lands his charge safe upon the high
and dizzy summit, whence he may look around,
and above, and downwards, in safety, and enjoy
a sweet repose and a refreshing banquet. So
careful, so minute, so tender, and so resolute is
the guidance of St. John in The Ascent of Mount
Carmel.

And through The Obscure Night, no less safe
by its prudence and encouraging by its firmness,
is his leadership to the soul. The twofold night,
that of sense and that of the spirit, may be securely
traversed under his direction, and the soul return
to a daylight sevenfold brighter than that of
the ordinary sun.

After thus attempting, however imperfectly,
to give an outline of St. John's principal treatises

Xlii PREFACE TO FIRST ENGLISH EDITION

on the spiritual life, no space remains to say
anything about the beautiful writings which fill
the [third and fourth] volumes. We are mistaken
if many readers, who have not courage or dis
position to master the abstruser and sublimer
doctrines and precepts of the [two first], will not
peruse with delight the more practical and cheer
ful maxims of the [two last], and even find ex
quisite satisfaction in those lessons of Divine love,
and in those aphorisms of a holy life which are
adapted for every devout soul.

Before closing this Preface, it is a mere act of
justice to say, that the translation of these difficult
works has been made with a care seldom bestowed
upon such books, when rendered from a foreign
language. So simple, so clear, and so thoroughly
idiomatic is this version, that the reader will
never have to read a sentence twice from any
obscurity of language, however abstruse the
subject may be. Indeed, he will almost find a
difficulty in believing that the work is a transla
tion, and has not been written originally as he
reads it, in his own tongue.

LONDON,

February 23, 1864.

*** The first edition was in two volumes, but this is in four ; hence
the words placed in square brackets.

INTRODUCTION

THE fourth volume of the works of St. John
of the Cross contains the last of his treatises
on mystical theology, the explanation of The
Living Flame of Love, which by many is con
sidered the most sublime of the four ; and also
some smaller writings, namely a series of Spiritual
Instructions and Precautions, a collection of
Letters, Maxims selected from his various works,
and Poems.

The Living Flame of Love is a piece of poetry
composed during or immediately after his im
prisonment at Toledo. Condemned to involuntary
rest and complete seclusion, deprived of every
earthly comfort, even to a change of linen, during
nine months, with only so much light as was
indispensable for reading his breviary, and nothing
but foul air to breathe, St. John lived in intimate
and uninterrupted communion with God, pouring
forth his soul in verses, not merely of literary
merit, but replete with an exalted, rapturous

xliii

Xliv INTRODUCTION

love of the Spouse of his soul. In later years,
when prior of Granada (1584), he was requested
by his penitent, Dona Ana de Mercado y Penalosa,
widow, since 1579, of Don Juan de Guevara, to
write an explanation of this canticle. He yielded
to her request, says Mr. Lewis,* with great un
willingness, because the hymn is of matters so
interior and spiritual as to be beyond the com
pass of human speech, As the Living Flame
was composed about the same time as the
Spiritual Canticle, the explanations of these two
poems were also written about the same period ;
and as the former poem is a continuation of
the latter, so the commentary to that supple
ments the commentary to this. ' In the former
stanzas/ says St. John in the Prologue, 'I spoke
of the highest degree of perfection to which it is
possible to attain in this life, transformation in
God ; yet these, the explanation of which I now
propose to undertake, speak of that love still
more perfect and complete in the same state
of transformation/ f

It should be understood that in this new
work St. John supplies an answer to a question
which must have presented itself to the reader

* Life of St. John of the Cross, by David Lewis, p. 188.
t Infra p. 2.

INTRODUCTION xlv

of the Spiritual Canticle. In his first trea
tises the author accompanied the soul on
the long and arduous journey, typically de
scribed as the Ascent of Mount Carmel and
the Dark Night, which may last many years.
Emerging from the terrifying darkness it finds
itself in that blissful state, technically called
Espousals of the soul, of which the Spiritual Canticle
gives a glowing picture. Now the question
arises : Can this state be permanent ? or is it
just a last glorious ray before the sun sets and the
eyes close in death, and the soul stands before
the great white throne ? or is it a climax in the
spiritual life, to be followed by a return into
insignificance ? or can there be many such climaxes
in the course of a single life, just as there are
many snow-capped peaks in a mountain range ?
We shall endeavour to answer these questions
to the best of our knowledge, which, however, is
strictly limited.

In the first place we must repeat what we have
said in the Introduction to the Dark Night,
namely that St. John states an extreme case ;
for one soul that passes through the utter dark
ness of desolation, hundreds or thousands are
being tried more or less sharply, but not by any

Xlvi INTRODUCTION

means to the same extent. Likewise, hundreds
or thousands come forth from the trial victori
ously, while perhaps only one among so many
reaches the heights described in the Spiritual
Canticle. It goes almost without saying that
this is the one that has been tried most severely.
For the vast majority there may be many climaxes,
but only relative ones, as there may have been
many purgations, none of them so very search
ing. The reason is that but few have the
courage to undergo the active and passive pur
gation to the extent required by St. John. No
one respects the free will of man more than
God does; He forces no one to become a saint,
though He calls and allures many. Few are
generous enough to mortify every desire, every
pleasure, every gratification of sense or spirit
so completely as to absolutely empty the soul
of everything created. Now it is certain that
the subsequent exaltation is proportionate to
the antecedent humiliation. For the many, there
fore, there may be many partial purgations,
succeeded by partial exaltations, while for the
few there is but one purgation, thorough in extent
and intensity, and this is followed by what St.
John calls a ' transformation ' as complete as

INTRODUCTION xlvii

the previous cleansing. From what the present
writer has gathered from lives of saints and
biographies of saintly persons it would appear
that this transformation is not as a rule post
poned until the end of life, but occurs earlier.
For man is created to labour in the vineyard
of the Lord, and it would be strange if the Lord
called away the workman just at the moment
he becomes supremely fit for his work. What,
then, happens to him during his subsequent
career upon earth ? It would seem that the
overflowing sweetness, happiness, and bliss des
cribed in the Spiritual Canticle are taken away,
or rather absorbed, while the vigour, the merit,
the aptitude for frequent transient acts of union
with God remain, or rather increase. Thus,
further progress is possible; not, indeed, in the
sense that a further and higher state could be
reached, for there remains only one more state,
namely that of perpetual union, reserved for the f
next life ; but there may be an indefinite progress
in the same state of transformation, for the soul
is called to become like unto God, Who, being
Himself infinite, must ever be infinitely above
it, though it may go on for ever drawing nearer
and nearer to Him. This last stage of the journey

Xlviii INTRODUCTION

forms the argument of the Living Flame of Love.
It would be a mistake to think that the point
reached in the Spiritual Canticle marks the
limit of the soul's potentialities, and that, having
reached this, nothing remains to be done but to
rest and enjoy the gain. Not only has the soul
now a wider scope for exterior work, being a
perfect instrument in the hand of a perfect
artist, but even its interior work or its co-opera
tion with God must not cease for one moment.
There must be no relaxation in self-denial.
Though it be true that the preservation of a
habit is easier than the acquiring thereof, there
is great danger that slight neglect might lead to
the loss of habitual self-renunciation. To this
end the grace of perseverance is indispensable.
St. Paul says : ' Not as though I had already-
attained, or were already perfect, but I follow
after, if I may by any means apprehend, wherein
I am also apprehended by Christ Jesus ' (Phil,
iii. 12). Nor are the trials peculiar to this stage
lighter than those proper for the time of pur
gation, although they differ in kind. For there
they served for the purpose of penance and
mortification, while here they are a participation
in the Passion of our Lord. ' But if you partake

INTRODUCTION xllX

in the sufferings of Christ/ says St. Peter, ' rejoice
that when His glory shall be revealed, you may
also be glad with exceeding joy ' (i St. Pet. iv. 13).
Hence the hunger and thirst for crosses and
trials and ignominy for which many saints were
remarkable. St. Teresa had reached the state
described in the Seventh Mansion of the Interior
Castle (which corresponds to that pictured in the
Living Flame of Love) in 1577 ; and soon after
wards she told one of her companions that she
did not consider it possible to advance farther
in this life in the way of prayer, nor even to wish
to do so. Yet the remaining five years of life
brought her trials compared with which those
of her earlier years were but as child's play. St.
John of the Cross is another instance. When
writing the explanation of the Living Flame of
Love he certainly recorded his own experience.
Yet the keenest sufferings, particularly that of
being ' despised,' especially by those to whose
respect he was entitled in the highest degree,
were reserved for the last years of his life. So
far from striking an insensible, stoic soul, these
tribulations are the lot of most refined, and there
fore most sensitive, hearts, which revel in sufferings
for the sake of the sponsus sanguinum(Exod. iv. 25).

I INTRODUCTION

In another way this last period differs also
from that of the night of purgation. There the
absence of heavenly visitations is an integral
part of the trial. Here, there may be occasional
seasons of desolation, but they alternate with
prolonged periods of intimate companionship,
more efficacious if less violent than during the
time of spiritual exaltation. The Bridegroom
may indeed hide his face, but His presence
is nearly always felt. Like an ardent lover
who bears the thought and remembrance of his
beloved uppermost in his mind, the soul in this
stage dwells continually on the thought of the
Bridegroom. Such a state may continue for
some years, but not for many ; because this
world being essentially imperfect, a soul that
has reached the highest possible degree of per
fection is out of place in it ; and, besides, the
Bridegroom will not leave it long in this exile,
but hastens to unite it to Himself for evermore.
What a fearful thought that there should be
many who were called to fill the highest ranks
of the heavenly hierarchy but who lacked the
required generosity and courage in the initial
stages, and forfeited thereby an everlasting crown.

St. John of the Cross wrote the treatise on

INTRODUCTION 11

the Living Flame of Love twice. Neither of the
originals seems to be extant, but there are copies
of each version : one in tho library of the Car
melite Fathers at Alba de Tormes, and the other
in the National Library at Madrid (No. 6,624).
A third one, of less importance, belongs to the
Carmelite Fathers at Burgos ; this was copied
in the eighteenth century from a manuscript
belonging to the nuns of Palencia, but now lost.
The second version differs greatly from the
first, not in essentials but in innumerable details,
showing how very carefully St. John wrote,
weighing every word and every shade of expres
sion, so as to convey his exact meaning. In this
point, as in some others, he is the direct opposite
of St. Teresa, who used to write incredibly fast,
rarely perusing what she had written before, not
even after a long interruption, and seldom revising
heri previous writings. Unfortunately the critical
edition of the works of St. John, prepared in the
eighteenth century by Fr. Andres de la Encar-
nacion, has never been published, and students
still have to rely on the unsatisfactory text of
the first editors. But there is every prospect
that a thoroughly reliable edition will shortly
appear ; it is in the hands of competent scholars,

Hi INTRODUCTION

who for several years have been collecting and
collating the original manuscripts as well as
the earliest and best transcripts, and who have
already given proof of the thoroughness of their
labours. We have been able to avail ourselves
of their work in restoring a long and important
passage which for some reason or other had
been omitted in all former editions, Spanish as
well as foreign.* The same editors announce also
the recovery of many hitherto unpublished writ
ings. Although eagerly expecting the publication
of their work we did not dare to postpone the
issue of this volume any longer, as many readers
of the former manifested their impatience.

It is hoped that the new edition will contain
valuable additions to the correspondence of the
saint. The older editions contained but ten
letters, the first by Mr. Lewis seventeen, the
second, of which this is a reprint eighteen ; but
it would seem that further letters must be pre
served in various places. Even so, his corre
spondence falls far short of that of St. Teresa ;
he had not the taste for sustained correspondence,
and it evidently cost him much to commit his

* Fr. Gerardo de San Juan de la Cruz. Un trozo inedito de la ' Llama
de Amor viva,' in the periodical El Monte Carmclo. Burgos, 1910,
p. 801, See infra, pp. 16-21,

INTRODUCTION liii

thoughts to paper ; moreover, during the troubles
in which he was involved during the greater
part of his life, his letters were destroyed by the
recipients for safety's sake. Still, we may look
forward to the results of a tardy gleaning.

The earlier editions contain a collection of a
hundred Maxims culled from his writings (now
partly lost or mislaid) and from his oral instruc
tions. These have been augmented from his
known works, and brought to the number of
three hundred and sixty-three by Fray Antonio
Arbiol, in the work Mystica Fundamental ; or, El
Religioso Perfecto, published at Madrid in 1761.

The poems are reprinted from Mr. Lewis's
second edition. In the first he gave the first
three, that is, those which form the argument of
the mystical treatises, in blank verse, as they
occurred in the respective works. But in the
second he added a rhymed and rhythmical version.
The fourth poem is a glose on the words ' I live
and yet not I,' on which St. Teresa, too, wrote
two sets of verses. Since the appearance of
Mr. Lewis's second edition two more manuscripts
of verses by St. John have been discovered, one
at the National Library at Madrid (No. 6,296),
and the other in the archives of the Carmelite

liv INTRODUCTION

nuns at Pampelona. Each contains three new
poems which unmistakably bear marks of the
spirit of the holy friar stamped on them.* They
are published here in the elegant version prepared
for this edition by the Benedictine nuns of
Stanbrook.

One little treatise, entitled The Thorns of the
Spirit, will be found in some of the Spanish
editions of the works of St. John. It is also
translated into French, f but not into English.
The revisers of the writings of the saint left the
question of its authenticity open ; the present
writer is not acquainted with the external evi
dence for or against it, and can only form an
opinion from internal criteria ; it appears to
him that the style and the manner of treating
the subject-matter are very unlike the acknow
ledged works of St. John. It might be argued that
circumstances of which we have no knowledge
might have induced the author to adopt a style
different from that of the rest of his works ; but
against this we feel bound to say that the whole
spirit of the treatise is so far removed from what

* Fr. Angel-Maria de Sta Teresa. Poesias de San Juan de la Cruz.
Burgos, 1904.

f R. P. Athanase de I'lmmaculee Conception. Traite des £pines de
I'Esprit de St. Jean de la Cwix. Paris, Oudin, 1896.

INTRODUCTION Iv

we believe to have been the spirit of this great
mystic that it would require very strong external
evidence to make us admit the claim to authen
ticity. The work is divided into eight colloquies
between the Spouse and the Bridegroom, and
gives valuable instructions on mental prayer,
frequent communion and various scruples. It is
undoubtedly the work of a Carmelite confessor,
and cannot but give consolation to afflicted souls,
but in our opinion it bears no trace of the master-
hand of St. John of the Cross. We have therefore
refrained from including it among these volumes.

BENEDICT ZIMMERMAN,

PRIOR O.C.D.

ST. LUKE'S, WINCANTON,
January 6, 1912.

P.S.— Since this Introduction was written the
first volume of the critical Spanish edition, con
taining a preliminary essay, the life of St. John,
and the Ascent of Mount Carmel, has appeared
under the title, Obras del Mistico Doctor San Juan
de la Cruz, Edition critica. By Fray Gerardo de
San Juan de la Cruz. Toledo, 1912.

B. Z.

THE LIVING FLAME OF LOVE

PROLOGUE

IT is not without some unwillingness that, at the requests
of others, I enter upon the explanation of the four stanzas
because they relate to matters so interior and spiritual as
to baffle the powers of language. The spiritual transcends
the sensual, and he speaks but indifferently of the mind
of the spirit who has not a spiritual mind himself. I
have, therefore, in consideration of my own defects, put
off this matter until now. But now that our Lord seems
in some way to have opened to me the way of knowledge
herein, and to have given me some fervour of spirit, I
have resolved to enter on the subject. I know too well
that of myself I can say nothing to the purpose on any
subject, how much less then on a matter of such depth
and substance as this ! What is mine here will be
nothing but defects and errors, and I therefore submit
the whole to the better judgment and discretion of our
Holy Mother the Catholic Roman Church, under whose
guidance no one goeth astray. And now having said
I

2 THE LIVING FLAME

this, I will venture, in reliance on the Holy Writings, to
give utterance to what I may have learned, observing at
the same time, that all I say falls far short of that which
passes in this intimate union of the soul with God.

2. There is nothing strange in the fact that God
bestows favours so great and so wonderful upon those
souls whom He is pleased to comfort. For if we consider
that it is God Himself as God, and with infinite love and
goodness, Who bestows them ; and this being the case,
they will not seem unreasonable, for He hath said Himself
that the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost will
come to him that loves Him, and will dwell in him.*
And this is accomplished in making such an one live
and abide in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,
in the life of God, as it shall be explained in the stanzas
that follow.

3. In the former stanzas I spoke of the highest degree
of perfection to which it is possible to attain in this life,
transformation in God ; t yet these, the explanation of
which I now propose to undertake, speak of that love
still more perfect and complete in the same state of
transformation. For though it is true that the former
and the present stanzas refer to one and the same state
of transformation, and that no soul can pass beyond it as

* St. John xiv. 23.

f See Spiritual Canticle, Stanza xxvi. 4, 14 ; xxxviii. 2 ; xxxix. 20.

OF LOVE 3

such, still with time and habits of devotion, the soul is
more perfected and grounded in it. Thus, when a log of
wood is set on fire, and when it is transformed into fire and
united with it, the longer it burns and the hotter the
fire, the more it glows until sparks and flames are emitted
from it.

4. So too the soul — and this is the subject of these
stanzas — when transformed, and glowing interiorly in the
fire of love, is not only united with the divine fire, but
becomes a living flame, and itself conscious of it. The
soul speaks of this with an intimate delicious sweetness
of love, burning in its own flame, dwelling upon the
various marvellous effects wrought within it. These
effects I now proceed to describe, following the same
method ; that is, I shall first transcribe the four stanzas,
then each separately, and finally each line by itself as I
explain them.

STANZAS *
i

O Living Flame of Love,

That woundest tenderly

My soul in its inmost depth !

As thou art no longer grievous,

Perfect thy work, if it be thy will,

Break the web of this sweet encounter.

* These stanzas were written after the saint's escape from the prison
of the friars in Toledo, and the commentary on them was written at the
request of dona Ana de Penalosa, one of his penitents.

THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

ii

O sweet burn !

O delicious wound !

O tender hand ! O gentle touch !

Savouring of everlasting life,

And paying the whole debt,

By slaying Thou hast changed death into life.

in

O lamps of fire,

In the splendours of which

The deep caverns of sense,

Dim and dark,

With unwonted brightness

Give light and warmth together to their Beloved !

IV

How gently and how lovingly

Thou wakest in my bosom,

Where alone Thou secretly dwellest ;

And in Thy sweet breathing

Full of grace and glory,

How tenderly Thou fillest me with Thy love.

EXPLANATION OF THE FIRST STANZA

THE bride of Christ, now feeling herself to be all on fire
in the divine union, and that rivers of living waters are
flowing from her belly, as Christ our Lord said * they
would flow from the like souls, believes that, as she is

* St. John vii. 38.

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 5

transformed in God with such vehemence and so inti
mately possessed by Him, so richly adorned with gifts
and graces, she is near unto bliss, and that a slender veil
only separates her from it. Seeing, too, that this sweet
flame of love burning within her, each time it touches her
makes her as it were glorious with foretaste of glory, so
much so that whenever it absorbs and assails her, it seems
to be admitting her to everlasting life, and to rend the
veil of her mortality, she addresses herself, with a great
longing, to the flame, which is the Holy Ghost, and prays
Him to destroy her mortal life in this sweet encounter,
and bestow upon her in reality what He seems about to
give, namely, perfect glory, crying : ' O living flame of
love.'

' O living flame of love/

2. In order to express the fervour and reverence with
which the soul is speaking in these four stanzas, it begins
them with ' O ' and ' How/ which are significant of
great earnestness, and whenever uttered show that some
thing passes within that is deeper than the tongue can
tell. ' O ' is the cry of strong desire, and of earnest sup
plication, in the way of persuasion. The soul employs
in it both senses here, for it magnifies and intimates its
great desire, calling upon love to end its mortal life.

3. This flame of love is the Spirit of the Bridegroom,
the Holy Ghost, of whose presence within itself the soul

6 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

is conscious, not only as fire which consumes it, and
transforms it in sweet love, but as a fire burning within
it, sending forth a flame which bathes it in glory and
recreates it with the refreshment of everlasting life. The
work of the Holy Ghost in a soul transformed in His love
is this : His interior action within it is to kindle it and
set it on fire ; this is the burning of love, in union with
which the will loves most deeply, being now one by love
with that flame of fire. And thus the soul's acts of love
are most precious, and even one of them more meritorious
than many elicited not in the state of transformation. The
transformation in love differs from the flame of love as
a habit differs from an act, or as the glowing fuel from
the flames it emits, the flames being the effect of the fire
which is there burning.

4. Hence then we may say of the soul which is trans
formed in love, that its ordinary state is that of the fuel
in the midst of the fire ; that the acts of such a soul are
the flames which rise up out of the fire of love, vehement
in proportion to the intensity of the fire of union, and
to the rapture and absorption of the will in the flame
of the Holy Ghost ; rising like the angel who ascended
to God in the flame which consumed the holocaust of
Mamie.* And as the soul, in its present condition, can
not elicit these acts without a special inspiration of the

* Judg. xiii. 20,

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 7

Holy Ghost, all these acts must be divine, in so far as
the soul is under the special influence of God. Hence
then it seems to the soul, as often as the flame breaks
forth, causing it to love sweetly with a heavenly dis
position, that its life everlasting is begun, and that its
acts are divine in God.

5. This is the language in which God addresses
purified and stainless souls, namely, words of flre. ' Thy
word/ saith the Psalmist, ' is a vehement fire/ * And in
Jeremias we read, ' are not My words as a fire ? saith our
Lord/ t His 'words/ we learn from Himself, 'are
spirit and life ; ' J the power and efficacy of which are
felt by such souls as have ears to hear ; pure souls full
of love. But those souls whose palate is not healthy,
whose desire is after other things, cannot perceive the
spirit and life of His words. And therefore the more
wonderful the words of the Son of God, the more insipid
they are to some who hear them, because of the impurity
in which they live.

6. Thus, when He announced the doctrine of the
Holy Eucharist, a doctrine full of sweetness and of love,
' many of His disciples went back/ § If such persons as
these have no taste for the words of God which He speaks
inwardly to them, it is not to be supposed that all others

* Ps. cxviii. 140. t Jerem. xxiii. 29,

t St. John vi. 64. § Ib. vi. 67.

8 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

are like them. St. Peter loved the words of Christ, for
he replied, ' Lord, to whom shall we go ? Thou hast the
words of eternal life/ * The woman of Samaria forgot
the water, and ' left her waterpot ' f at the well, because
of the sweetness of the words of God.

7. And now when the soul has drawn so near unto
God as to be transformed in the flame of love, when the
Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost are in com
munion with it, is it anything incredible to say that it
has a foretaste — though not perfectly, because this life
admits not of it — of everlasting life in this fire of the Holy
Ghost ? This is the reason why this flame is said to be a
living flame, not because it is not always living, but
because its effect is to make the soul live spritually in
God, and to be conscious of such a life, as it is written,
My heart and my flesh have rejoiced toward the living
God.' J The Psalmist makes use of the word ' living,'
not because it was necessary, for God is ever-living, but
to show that the body and the spirit had a lively feeling
of God ; that is the rejoicing in the living God. Thus in
this flame, the soul has so vivid a sense of God and a
perception of Him so sweet and delicious, that it cries
out : ' O living flame of love ! "

' That woundest tenderly.'

8. That is, Thou touchest me tenderly in Thy love.

* St. John. vi. 69. f Ib. iv. 28. J Ps. Ixxxiii. 3.

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 9

For when this flame of divine life wounds the soul with
the gentle languishing for the life of God, it wounds it
with so much endearing tenderness, and softens it so that
it melts away in love. The words of the bride in the
Canticle are now fulfilled in the soul. * My soul melted
when He spoke.' * This is the effect in the soul when
God speaks.

9. But how can we say that it wounds the soul, when
there is nothing to wound, seeing that it is all consumed
in the fire of love ? It is certainly marvellous ; for as fire
is never idle, but in continual movement, flashing in one
direction, then in another, so love, the function of which
is to wound, so as to cause love and joy, when it exists in
the soul as a living flame, darts forth its most tender
flames of love, causing wounds, exerting joyously all the
arts and wiles of love as in the palace of its wedding
feast. So Assuerus exhibited his riches, and the glory of
his power at * the wedding and marriage of Esther ; ' f
and so is wrought in the soul what is read in the Proverbs :
I ' was delighted every day . . . playing in the world,
and My delights were to be with the children of men/ J
that is to give Myself to them. This wounding, therefore,
which is the ' playing ' of divine wisdom, is the flames of
those tender touches which touch the soul continually,
touches of the fire of love which is never idle. And of
* Cant. v. 6. t Esth. ii. 18. } Prov. viii. 30, 31.

10 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

these flashings of the fire it is said that they wound the
soul in its inmost substance.

' My soul in its inmost depth/

10. The feast of the Holy Ghost is celebrated in the
substance of the soul, which is inaccessible to the devil,
the world, and the flesh ; and therefore the more interior
the feast, the more secure, substantial, and delicious is it.
For the more interior it is, the purer it is ; and the greater
the purity, the greater the abundance, frequency, and
universality of God's communication of Himself ; and
thus the joy of the soul and spirit is so much the greater,
for it is God Himself Who is the author of all this, and
the soul doeth nothing of itself, in the sense I shall
immediately explain.

11. And inasmuch as the soul cannot work naturally
here, nor make any efforts of its own otherwise than
through the bodily senses and by their help — of which it
is in this case completely free, and from which it is most
detached — the work of the soul is solely to receive what
God communicates, Who alone in the depths of the soul,
without the help of the senses, can influence and direct it,
and operate within it. Thus, then, all the movements of
such a soul are divine, and though of God, still they are
the soul's, because God effects them within it, itself willing
them and assenting to them.

j2. The expression, ' inmost depth/ implies other

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE n

depths of the soul less profound, and it is necessary to
consider this. In the first place the soul, regarded as
spirit, has neither height nor depth of greater or less de
gree in its own nature, as bodies have which have bulk.
The soul has no parts, neither is there any difference
between its interior and exterior, for it is uniform ; it has
no depths of greater or less profundity, nor can one part
of it be more enlightened than another, as is the case
with physical bodies, for the whole of it is enlightened
uniformly at once.

13. Setting aside this signification of depth, material
and measureable, we say that the inmost depth of the soul
is there where its being, power, and the force of its action
and movement penetrate and cannot go further. Thus
fire, or a stone, tend by their natural force to the centre
of their sphere, and cannot go beyond it, or help resting
there, unless some obstacle intervene. Accordingly, when
a stone lies on the ground it is said to be within its centre,
because within the sphere of its active motion, which is
the element of earth, but not in the inmost depth of that
centre, the middle of the earth, because it has still power
and force to descend thither, provided all that hinders it
be taken away. So when it shall have reached the centre
of the earth, and is incapable of further motion of its own,
we say of it that it is then in its inmost or deepest centre.

14. The centre of the soul is God. When the soul

12 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

shall have reached Him, according to its essence, and
according to the power of its operations, it will then have
attained to its ultimate and deepest centre in God. This
will be when the soul shall love Him, comprehend Him,
and enjoy Him with all its strength. When, however,
the soul has not attained to this state, though it be in
God, Who is the centre of it by grace and communion
with Him, still if it can move further and is not satisfied,
though in the centre, it is not in the deepest centre,
because there is still room for it to advance.

15. Love unites the soul with God, and the greater its
love the deeper does it enter into God, and the more is it
centered in Him. According to this way of speaking we
may say, that as the degrees of love, so are the centres
which the soul finds in God. These are the many man
sions of the Father's house.* Thus, a soul which has but
one degree of love is already in God, Who is its centre :
for one degree of love is sufficient for our abiding in Him
in the state of grace. If we have two degrees of love
we shall then have found another centre, more interiorly
in God ; and if we have three we shall have reached
another and more interior centre still.

16. But if the soul shall have attained to the highest
degree of love, the love of God will then wound it in its
inmost depth or centre and the soul will be transformed

* St. John xiv. 2 f

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 13

and enlightened in the highest degree in its substance,
faculties, and strength, until it shall become most like
unto God. The soul in this state may be compared to
crystal, lucid and pure ; the greater the light thrown
upon it, the more luminous it becomes by the concentra
tion thereof, until at last it seems to be all light and
undistinguishable from it ; it being then so illumined, and
to the utmost extent, that it seems to be one with the
light itself.

17. The flame wounds the soul in its inmost depth ;
that is, it wounds it when it touches the very depths of
its substance, power and force. This expression implies
that abundance of joy and bliss, which is the greater and
the more tender, the more vehemently and substantially
the soul is transformed and centred in God. It greatly
surpasses that which occurs in the ordinary union of love,
for it is in proportion to the greater heat of the fire of
love which now emits the living flame. The soul which
has the fruition only of the ordinary union of love may be
compared, in a certain sense, to the ' fire ' of God which
is in Sion, that is in the Church Militant ; while the soul
which has the fruition of glory so sweet may be compared
to 'His furnace in Jerusalem/ * which means the vision
of peace.

1 8. The soul in the burning furnace is in a more peace-

* Is. xxxi. 9.

14 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

ful, glorious, and tender union, the more the flame of
the furnace transcends the fire of ordinary love. Thus
the soul, feeling that the living flame ministers to it all
good — divine love brings all blessings with it — cries out :
' O living flame of love, that woundest tenderly.' The
cry of the soul is : O kindling burning love, how tenderly
dost thou make me glorious by thy loving movements in
my greatest power and strength, giving me a divine
intelligence according to the capacity of my understand
ing, and communicating love according to the utmost
freedom of my will ; that is, thou hast elevated to the
greatest height, by the divine intelligence, the powers of
my understanding in the most intense fervour and sub
stantial union of my will. This ineffable effect then takes
place when this flame of fire rushes upwards in the soul.
The divine wisdom absorbs the soul — which is now
purified and most clean — profoundly and sublimely in
itself ; for ' wisdom reacheth everywhere by reason of
her purity.' * It is in this absorption of wisdom that the
Holy Ghost effects those glorious quiverings of His flame
of which I am speaking. And as the flame is so sweet,
the soul says : ' As Thou art no longer grievous/

' As Thou art no longer grievous.'
19. Thou dost not afHict, nor vex, nor weary me as
before. This flame, when the soul was in the state of

* Wisd. vii. 24.

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 15

spiritual purgation, that is, when it was entering that of
contemplation, was not so friendly and sweet as it is now
in the state of union. In order to explain this we must
dwell a little on this point. For before the divine fire
enters into the soul and unites itself to it in its inmost
depth by the complete and perfect purgation and purity
thereof, the flame, which is the Holy Ghost, wounds it,
destroys and consumes the imperfections of its evil habits.
This is the work of the Holy Ghost, Who thereby disposes
the soul for its divine union and a substantial transforma
tion in God by love. For the flame which afterwards
unites itself to the soul, glorifying it, is the very same
which before assailed and purified it ; just as the fire
which ultimately penetrates the substance of the fuel
is the very same which in the beginning darted its flames
around it, playing about it, and depriving it of its ugliness
until it prepared it with its heat for its own entrance into
it, and transformation of it into itself.

20. The soul suffers greatly in this spiritual exercise,
and endures grievous afflictions of spirit which occasion
ally overflow into the senses ; for then the flame is felt to
be grievous, for in this state of purgation the flame does
not burn brightly but is darksome, and if it gives forth
any light at all it is only to show to the soul and make
it feel all its, miseries and defects ; neither is it sweet but
painful, and if it kindles a fire of love that fire causes

l6 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

torments and uneasiness ; it does not bring delight but
aridity, for although God in His kindness may send the
soul some comfort to strengthen and animate it He makes
it pay, both before and after, with sufferings and trials.
It is not a refreshing and peaceful fire, but a consuming
and searching one that makes the soul faint away and
grieve at the sight of Self ; not a glorious brightness, for
it embitters the soul and makes it miserable, owing to
the spiritual light it throws on Self, for, as Jeremias says,
God ' hath sent fire into my bones ' * or, in the words
of David ' Thou hast tried me by fire.' f Thus, at this
juncture, the soul suffers in the understanding from deep
darkness, in the will from aridity and conflict, and in
the memory from the consciousness of its miseries — for
the eye of the spiritual understanding is clear — and in
its very substance the soul suffers from poverty and dere
liction. Dry and cold, yea, at times, even hot, nothing
gives it relief, nor has it a single good thought to con
sole it and to help it to lift up the heart to God, for this
flame has made it ' grievous/ even as Job said when
he found himself in this plight : ' Thou art changed to
be cruel toward me/ { Suffering all these things to
gether the soul undergoes, as it were, its Purgatory, for
all happiness being taken away the torture is hardly
inferior to the torments of Purgatory.

* Lament, i. 13. f Ps. xvi. 3. \ Job xxx. 21,

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 17

I should scarcely know how to describe this ' grievous-
ness/ and what the soul feels and bears in it were it not
for these telling words of Jeremias: ' I am the man that
see my poverty by the rod of His indignation ; He hath
led me, and brought me into darkness and not into light.
Only against me He hath turned, and turned again His
hand all the day. My skin and my flesh He hath made
old, He hath broken my bones. He hath built round
about me, and He hath encompassed me with gall and
labour. He hath set me in dark places, as those that are
dead for ever. He hath built against me round about,
that I may not get out : He hath made my fetters heavy/*
Jeremias says a great deal more besides this in the same
place ; for this is the remedy and medicine chosen by God
to restore health to the soul after its many infirmities,
the cure being of a necessity commensurate to the disease.
Here then, the heart is ' laid upon coals to drive away
all kind of devils ; ' f here, too, all its maladies are
brought to light, and openly exhibited before the eyes,
and thus they are cured. Whatever may have been
hidden within its depths now becomes visible and palp
able to the soul by the glare and heat of that fire, for
previously nothing could be seen. When the flame acts
upon a log of wood steam and smoke are seen to issue in
evidence of humidity and frigidity which were un-

* Lament, iii. 1-7. t Tobias vi. 8.

l8 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

suspected beforehand. Thus the soul, near this flame,
sees and feels clearly its miseries, because, O wonder !
there arise within it contraries at variance with each
other, yet seated side by side, making war against each
other on the battlefield of the soul, and striving, as the
philosophers say, to expel each other so as to reign upper
most in the soul. The virtues and properties of God,
being in the highest degree perfect, arise and make war
within the soul, on the habits and properties of man
which are in the highest degree imperfect. For since
this flame gives forth a dazzling light it penetrates the
darkness of the soul which, in its way, is profound in the
extreme ; the soul now feels its natural darkness oppose
the supernatural light, without feeling the supernatural
light itself, for ' the darkness does not comprehend it.' *
Rather, it feels its natural darkness only in so far as it
is penetrated by light, for no soul can see its own dark
ness except by the side of the Divine light until, the
darkness being dissipated, itself becomes illumined and
sees the light, the eye being now made clear and strong.
For an intense light is to a weak sight, or an eye that
is not wholly clear, nothing but darkness, because the
excess of light destroys the power of seeing. For this
reason the flame was ' grievous ' to the eye of the under
standing, for, being at once loving and tender, it lovingly
* St. John i. 5.

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 19

and tenderly penetrates the will which, by its nature, is
arid and hard. And as hardness is discovered when con
trasted with tenderness, and aridity when compared with
love, so the will comes to a knowledge of its own hardness
and aridity when contrasted with God, though it does
not feel the love and tenderness of the flame, for hardness
and aridity cannot comprehend their contraries, until,
being expelled by these, the love and tenderness of God
reign supreme in the will, for two contraries cannot co
exist in one subject. Similarly, the soul perceives its
own smallness in comparison with the immensity of the
flame, and suffers great uneasiness until the flame, acting
on it, dilates it. Thus, the latter has proved ' grievous '
to the will also, for the sweet nourishment of love is in
sipid to a palate not yet weaned from other affections.
Finally, the soul, which of itself is exceedingly poor,
having nothing whatever, nor the means of procuring any
satisfaction, gains a knowledge of its poverty, misery and
malice by contrasting them with the riches, goodness and
delights possessed by this flame, for malice does not com
prehend goodness, nor poverty riches, etc., until thfc flame
succeeds in purifying the soul, and, while transforming it,
enriches, glorifies, and delights it too. In this manner the
flame was at first ' grievous ' to the soul, which suffers
severely in its substance and powers from the uneasiness
and anguish caused by the war of contraries within its

20 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

ailing frame. Here, God Who is all perfection, there the
habits of imperfection of the soul ; cauterising it with a
Divine fire He extirpates them and leaves a well-prepared
soil upon which He may enter with His gentle, peaceful
and glorious love, as does a flame when it gets hold of
wood.

So powerful a purgation is the lot of but few souls,
namely of those whom He intends to lift by contemplation
to some degree of union ; the more sublime that degree,
the fiercer the purification. When He resolves to snatch
a soul from the common way of natural operations and
to lead it to the spiritual life, from meditation to con
templation — which is heavenly rather than earthly life
— and to communicate Himself by the union of love,
He begins by making Himself known to the spirit, as yet
impure and imperfect and full of evil habits. Each one
suffers in proportion to his imperfections. This purga
tion is sometimes as fierce in its way as that of Purgatory,
for the one is meant to dispose the soul for a perfect union
even here below, while the other is to enable it to see God
hereafter. I shall say nothing here of the intention of
this cleansing, the degrees of its intensity, its operation
in the will, the understanding and the memory, in the
substance of the soul, in all its powers, or in the sensitive
part alone, nor how it may be ascertained whether it is
this or that, at what time or at which precise point of the

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 21

spiritual journey it begins, as all this has nothing to do
with my present purpose ; moreover, I have fully discussed
it in my treatise on* the Dark Night in the Ascent of
Mount Carmel.* It is enough for us to know that
God, Who seeks to enter the soul by union and
transformation of love, is He who previously assailed
the soul, purifying it with the light and heat of His
divine flame, just as it is the same fire that first disposes
the wood for combustion and afterwards consumes it.
Thus, the same which now is sweet, being seated
within the soul, was at first ' grievous ' while assailing
it from without.

21. The meaning of the whole is as follows : Thou art
now not only not darkness as before, but the divine light
of my understanding wherewith I behold Thee : not only
dost Thou abstain from causing me to faint in my weak
ness, but Thou art become the strength of my will, wherein
I can love and enjoy Thee, being wholly transformed by
divine love. Thou art no longer grief and affliction, but
rather my glory, my delight, and my liberty, seeing that
the words of the Canticle may be said of me, ' Who is
this that cometh up from the desert flowing with delights

* Dark Night of the Soul : Book II. The former editions, and all the
translations, say ' in the treatise of the Dark Night and in that of the
Ascent of Mount Carmel/ as if the Saint had spoken on this subject
in both works. The manuscripts make the matter clear, for St. John
considered the Dark Night as part of the Ascent.

22 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

leaning upon her Beloved/ * scattering love on this side
and on that ? ' Perfect Thy work, if it be Thy will.'
' Perfect Thy work, if it be Thy will/

22. That is, do Thou perfect the spiritual marriage in
the beatific vision. Though it is true that the soul is
the more resigned the more it is transformed, when it has
attained to a state so high as this, for it knows nothing
and seeks nothing with a view to itself, f but only in and
for the Beloved — for Charity seeks nothing but the good
and glory of the Beloved — still because it lives in hope,
and hope implies a want, it groans deeply — though
sweetly and joyfully — because it has not fully attained to
the perfect adoption of the sons of God, in which, being
perfected in glory, all its desires will be satisfied. How
ever intimate the soul's union may be with God, it will
never be satisfied here below till His ' glory shall appear ; ' J
especially because it has already tasted, by anticipation,
of its sweetness.

23. That sweetness is such that if God had not had
pity on its natural frailty and covered it with His right
hand, as He did Moses, that he might not die when he
saw the glory of God — for the natural powers of the soul
receive comfort and delight from that right hand, rather
than hurt — it would have died at each vibration of the
flame, seeing that the inferior part thereof is incapable of

* Cant. viii. 5. f i Cor. xiii. 5. J Ps. xvi. 15.

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 23

enduring so great and so sharp a fire. This desire of the
soul is therefore no longer painful, for its condition is now
such that all pain is over, and its prayers are offered for
the object it desires in great sweetness, joy and resigna
tion. This is the reason why it says, ' if it be Thy will/
for the will and desire are now so united in God, each in
its own way, that the soul regards it as its glory that the
will of God should be done in it. Such are now the
glimpses of glory, and such the love which now shines
forth, that it would argue but little love on its part if it did
not pray to be admitted to the perfect consummation of
love.

24. Moreover, the soul in the power of this sweet
communication, sees that the Holy Ghost incites it, and
invites it in most wonderful ways, and by sweet affections,
to this immeasurable glory, which He there sets before
it, saying, ' Arise, make haste, my love, my dove, my
beautiful one, and come. For winter is now past, the
rain is gone and departed. The flowers have appeared in
our land. . . . The fig-tree hath brought forth her green
figs, the flourishing vineyards have given their savour.
Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come; my dove
in the holes of the rock, in the hollow places of the wall,
show me thy face, let thy voice sound in mine ears, for
thy voice is sweet, and thy face comely/ * The soul
* Cant. ii. 10-14.

24 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

hears all this spoken by the Holy Ghost in this sweet and
tender flame, and therefore answers Him, saying, ' Per
fect Thy work, if it be Thy will/ thereby making the two
petitions which our Lord commands, ' Thy kingdom
come, Thy will be done ; ' * that is, give me Thy kingdom
according to Thy will, and that it may be so ' Break the
web of this sweet encounter/

' Break the web of this sweet encounter/

25. That is, the hindrance to this so grand an affair.
It is an easy thing to draw near unto God when all
hindrances are set aside, and when the web that divides
us from Him is broken. There are three webs to be
broken before we can have the perfect fruition of God :

1. The temporal web, which comprises all created things.

2. The natural web, which comprises all mere natural
actions and inclinations. 3. The web of sense, which is
merely the union of soul and body ; that is, the sensitive
and animal life, of which St. Paul speaks, saying, ' For we
know if our earthly house of this habitation be dissolved,
that we have a building of God, a house not made with
hands, eternal in heaven/ f

26. The first and second web must of necessity have
been broken in order to enter into the fruition of God in
the union of love, when we denied ourselves in worldly
things and renounced them, when our affections and

* St. Matth. vi. 10. f 2 Cor. v. i.

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 25

desires were mortified, and when all otir operations
became divine. These webs were broken in the assaults
of this flame when it was still grievous. In the spiritual
purgation the soul breaks the two webs I am speaking of,
and becomes united with God ; the third alone, the web
of the life of sense remains now to be broken. This is the
reason why but one web is mentioned here. For now
one web alone remains, and this the flame assails not
painfully and grievously as it assailed the others, but
with great sweetness and delight.

27. Thus the death of such souls is most full of sweet
ness, beyond that of their whole spiritual life, for they
die of the sweet violence of love, like the swan which sings
more sweetly when death is nigh.

28. This is why the Psalmist said, ' Precious in the
sight of our Lord is the death of His saints/ * for then
the rivers of the soul's love flow into the sea of love, so
wide and deep as to seem a sea themselves ; the beginning
and the end unite together to accompany the just de
parting for His Kingdom. ' From the ends of the earth/
in the words of Isaias, are ' heard praises, the glory of the
just one/ t and the soul feels itself in the midst of these
glorious encounters on the point of departing in all
abundance for the perfect fruition of the kingdom, for
it beholds itself pure and rich, and prepared, so far as

* Ps. cxv. 15. f Is. xxiv. 16.

26 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

it is possible, consistently with the faith and the con
ditions of this life. God now permits it to behold
its own beauty, and intrusts it with the gifts and
graces He has endowed it with, for all this turns into
love and praise without the stain of presumption or of
vanity, because no leaven of imperfection remains to
corrupt it.

29. When the soul sees that nothing is wanting but
the breaking of the frail web of its natural life, by which
its liberty is enthralled, it prays that it may be broken ;
for it longs ' to be dissolved and to be with Christ,' * to
burst the bonds which bind the spirit and the flesh
together, that both may resume their proper state, for
they are by nature different, the flesh to ' return to its
earth, and the spirit unto God Who gave it.' f The
mortal body, as St. John saith, ' profiteth nothing,' J but
is rather a hindrance to the good of the spirit. The soul,
therefore, prays for the dissolution of the body, for it is
sad that a life so mean should be a hindrance in the
way of a life so noble.

30. This life is called a web for three reasons : i. Be
cause of the connection between the spirit and the flesh.
2. Because it separates the soul and God. 3. Because
a web is not so thick but that light penetrates it. The
connection between soul and body, in this state of per-

* Phil. i. 23. t Eccles. xii. 7. J St. John vi. 64.

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 27

fection is so slight a web that the divinity shines through
it, now that the soul is so spiritualised, subtilised, and
refined. When the power of the life to come is felt in
the soul, the weakness of this life becomes manifest. Its
present life seems to be but a slender web, even a spider's
web, in the words of David, ' our years shall be con
sidered as a spider/ * and even less than that, when the
soul is raised to a state so high, for being raised so high,
it perceives things as God does, in Whose sight ' a thou
sand years are as yesterday which is past/ f an(l before
Whom ' all nations are as if they had no being at all/ t
In the same way all things appear to the soul as nothing,
yea, itself is nothing in its own eyes, and God alone is
its all.

31. It may be asked here why the soul prays for the
breaking of the web rather than for its cutting or its
removal, since the effect would be the same in either case.
There are four reasons which determine it : i. The ex
pression it employs is the most proper, because it is more
natural that a thing should be broken in an encounter,
than that it should be cut or taken away. 2. Because
love likes force, with violent and impetuous contacts,
and these result in breaking rather than in cutting or
taking away. 3. Because its love is so strong, it desires
that the act of breaking the web may be done in a moment ;

* Ps. Ixxxix. 9. f Ib. Ixxxix. 4. J Is. xl. 17.

28 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

the more rapid and spiritual the act, the greater its force
and worth.

32. The power of love is now more concentrated and
more vigorous, and the perfection of transforming love
enters the soul, as form into matter, in an instant. Until
now there was no act of perfect transformation, only the
disposition towards it in desires and affections successively
repeated, which in very few souls attain to the perfect act
of transformation. Hence a soul that is disposed may
elicit many more, and more intense acts in a brief period
than another soul not so disposed in a long time, for this
soul spends all its energies in the preparation of itself, and
even afterwards the fire does not wholly penetrate the fuel
it has to burn. But when the soul is already prepared,
love enters in continuously, and the spark at the first
contact seizes on the fuel that is dry. And thus the
enamoured soul prefers the abrupt breaking of the web
to its tedious cutting or waiting for its removal.

33. 4. The fourth reason why the soul prays for the
breaking of the web of life is its desire that it may be done
quickly : for when we cut or remove anything we do it
deliberately, when the matter is ripe, and then time and
thought become necessary ; but a violent rupture requires
nothing of the kind. The soul's desire is not to wait for
the natural termination of its mortal life, because the
violence of its love and the disposition it is in incline it with

*

[STAN, i.] OF LOVE 29

resignation towards the violent rupture of its natural life
in the supernatural assaults of love. Moreover, it knows
well that it is the way of God to call such souls to Himself
before the time, that He fills them with good, and delivers
them from evil, perfecting them in a short space, and
bestowing upon them, through love, what they could have
gained only by length of time. ' Pleasing God, he is made
beloved, and living among sinners he was translated. He
was taken away lest malice should change his understand
ing, or lest any guile deceive his soul. Being consummate
in a short space, he fulfilled much time, for his soul
pleased God ; for this cause He hastened to bring him
out of the midst of iniquities/* The constant practice of
love is therefore a matter of the last importance, for when
the soul is perfect therein, its detention here below cannot
be long before it is admitted to see God face to face.

34. But why is this interior assault of the Holy Ghost
called an encounter ? Though the soul is very desirous to
see the end of its natural life, yet because the time is not
yet come, that cannot be, and so God, to make it perfect
and to raise it above the flesh more and more, assails it
divinely and gloriously, and these assaults are really
encounters wherein God penetrates the soul, deifies the
very substance of it, and renders it as it were divine.
The substance of God absorbs the soul, because He
* Wisd. iv. 10-14.

30 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. I.]

assails and pierces it to the quick by the Holy Ghost,
whose communications are vehement when they are of
fire as at present. The soul says this encounter is sweet,
^because it has therein a lively taste of God ; not that many
other touches and encounters of God, of which the soul
is now the object, cease to be sweet and delicious, but on
account of the supereminent sweetness of this ; for God
effects it in order to detach it perfectly and make it
glorious. Hence the soul relying on His protection
becomes bold, and says, ' Break the web of this sweet
encounter/

35. The whole stanza may be paraphrased as follows :
O flame of the Holy Ghost, penetrating so profoundly and
so tenderly the very substance of my soul, and burning it
with Thy heat, since Thou art now so gentle as to mani
fest Thy desire of giving Thyself wholly to me in ever
lasting life ; if formerly my petitions did not reach Thine
ears, when I was weary and worn with love, suffering
through the weakness of sense and spirit, because of my
great infirmities, impurity, and little love, I prayed to
be set free — for with desire hath my soul desired Thee
— when my impatient love would not suffer me to submit
to the conditions of this life according to Thy will — for it
was Thy will that I should live — and when the previous
impulses of my love were insufficient in Thy sight, be
cause there was no substance in them ; now that I am

[STAN, n.] OF LOVE 31

grown strong in love, that body and soul together do not
only follow after Thee, but that my heart and my flesh
rejoice in the living God * with one consent, so that I am
praying for that which Thou wiliest I should pray for,
and what Thou wiliest not, that I pray not for — it seems
even that I could not do it, neither does it enter into
my mind to do so — and as my prayers are now more
efficacious and more reasonable in Thy sight, for they
proceed from Thee, and Thou wiliest I should so pray,
and as I pray in the joy and sweetness of the Holy Ghost,
and ' my judgment cometh forth from Thy countenance/ f
when Thou art pleased with my prayer and hearkenest to
it — break Thou the slender web of this life that I may be
enabled to love Thee hereafter with that fulness and
abundance which my soul desires, without end for ever
more.

STANZA II

O sweet burn !

O delicious wound I

O tender hand ! O gentle touch !

Savouring of everlasting life,

And paying the whole debt,

In destroying death Thou hast changed it into life.

* Ps. Ixxxiii. 3. f ib. xvi. 2.

32 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

EXPLANATION

WE learn here that it is the Three Persons of the Most
Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, Who ac
complish the divine work of union in the soul. The
'hand/ the ' touch/ and the ' burn ' are in substance one
and the same ; and the three terms are employed because
they express effects peculiar to each. The ' burn ' is the
Holy Ghost ; the ' hand ' is the Father ; and the ' touch '
is the Son. Thus the soul magnifies the Father, the
Son, and the Holy Ghost, extolling those three grand
gifts and graces which They perfect within it, in that
They have changed death into life, transforming it in
Themselves.

2. The first of these gifts is the delicious wound,
attributed to the Holy Ghost, and so the soul calls it
the ' burn/ The second is the ' taste of everlasting life/
attributed to the Son, and the soul calls it the 'gentle
touch/ The third is that ' gift ' which is the perfect
recompense of the soul, attributed to the Father, and is
therefore called the ' tender hand/ Though the Three
Persons of the Most Holy Trinity are referred to sever
ally, because of the operations peculiar to Each, the
soul is addressing itself to but One Essence, saying,
' Thou hast changed it into life/ for the Three Divine

[STAN, n.] OF LOVE 33

Persons work together, and the whole is attributed to
Each, and to All.

' 0 sweet burn.'

3. In the book of Deuteronomium, Moses saith, ' Our
Lord God is a consuming fire/ * that is, a fire of love.
And as His power is infinite, He consumes infinitely,
burning with great vehemence, and transforming into
Himself all He touches. But He burns everything
according to the measure of its preparation, some more,
others less; and also according to His own good plea
sure, as, and when, and how, He will. And as this is
an infinite fire of love, so when He touches the soul
somewhat sharply, the burning heat within it becomes
so extreme as to surpass all the fires of the world. This
is the reason why this touch of God is said to be a ' burn : '
for the fire there is more intense, and more concentrated,
and the effect of it surpasses that of all other fires.

4. When the divine fire shall have transformed the
soul into itself, the soul not only feels the burn, but
itself is become wholly and entirely burnt up in this
vehement fire. O how wonderful the fire of God ! though
so vehement and so consuming, though it can destroy
a thousand worlds with more ease than the material fire
can destroy a single straw, it consumes not the spirit
wherein it burns, but rather, in proportion to its strength

* Deut. iv. 24.

3

34 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

and heat, delights and deifies it, burning sweetly within
according to the strength which God has given. Thus,
on the day of Pentecost the fire descended with great
vehemence upon the Apostles, who, according to St.
Gregory,* sweetly burned interiorly. The Church also
says, when celebrating that event : ' The divine fire
came down, not consuming but enlightening/ f For as
the object of these communications is to elevate the
soul, the burning of the fire does not distress it but
gladdens it, does not weary it but delights it, and renders
it glorious and rich. This is the reason why it is said to
be sweet.

5. Thus then the blessed soul, which by the mercy of
God has been burnt, knoweth all things, tasteth all
things, ' whatever it shall do shall prosper/ J against
it nothing shall prevail, nothing shall touch it. It is of
that soul that the Apostle said : ' The spiritual man
judgeth all things, and he himself is judged of no man/ §
for ' the Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things
of God/ || because it belongs to love to search into all
that the Beloved has.

* Horn. 30 in Evangel. (Whit Sunday). ' Intus facta sunt corda
flammantia, quia dum Deum in ignis visione susceperunt, per amorem
suaviter arserunt.'

f Brev. Rom. fer. 2 Pent. Resp. II. ad Mat. ' Advenit ignis divinus,
non comburens, sed illuminans.'

+ Ps. i. 3. § i Cor. ii. 15. || Ib. 10.

[STAN. II.] OF LOVE 35

6. O, the great glory of the souls who are worthy of
this supreme fire which, having infinite power to con
sume and annihilate you, consumes you not, but makes
you infinitely perfect in glory ! Wonder not that God
should elevate some souls to so high a degree, for He
alone is wonderful in His marvellous works. As this
burn then is so sweet — as it is here said to be — how
happy must that soul be which this fire has touched !
The soul would speak of it, but cannot, so it says only,
' O delicious wound.'

' O delicious wound/

7. He Who inflicts the wound relieves, and heals
while He inflicts it. It bears some resemblance to the
caustic usage of natural fire, which when applied to a
wound increases it, and renders a wound, which iron or
other instruments occasioned, a wound of fire. The
longer the caustic is applied, the more grievous the
wound, until the whole matter be destroyed, Thus the
divine burn of love heals the wound which love has
caused, and by each application renders it greater. The
healing which love brings is to wound again what was
wounded before, until the soul melts away in the fire of
love. So when the soul shall become wholly one wound
of love it will then be transformed in love, wounded
with love. For herein he who is most wounded is the
most healthy, and he who is all wound is all health.

3^ THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

8. And yet even if the whole soul be one wound, and
consequently sound, the divine burning is not inter
mitted ; it continues its work, which is to wound the
soul with love. But then, too, its work is to soothe the
healed wound, and the soul therefore cries out, ' 0
delicious wound/ and so much the more delicious the
more penetrating the fire of love. The Holy Ghost in
flicted the wound that He might soothe it, and as His
will and desire to soothe it are great, great will be the
wound which He will inflict, in order that the soul He
has wounded may be greatly comforted. O blessed
wound inflicted by Him Who cannot but heal it !

9. O happy and most blessed wound ! For thou art
inflicted only for the joy and comfort of the soul. Great
is the wound, because He is great Who has wrought it ;
and great is the delight of it : for the fire of love is
infinite. O delicious wound then, and the more delicious
the more the burn of love penetrates the inmost sub
stance of the soul, burning all it can burn that it may
supply all the delight it can give. This burning and
wound, in my opinion, are the highest condition attain
able in this life. There are many other forms of this
burning, but they do not reach so far, neither are they
like unto this : for this is the touch of the Divinity
without form or figure, either natural, formal, or
imaginary.

[STAN. II.] OF LOVE 37

10. But the soul is burned in another and most ex
cellent way, which is this: when a soul is on fire with
love, but not in the degree of which I am now speaking —
though it should be so, that it may be the subject of this
—it will feel as if a seraph with a burning brand of love
had struck it, and penetrated it already on fire as glowing
coal, or rather as a flame, and burns it utterly.* And
then in that burn the flame rushes forth and surges
vehemently as in a glowing furnace or forge; the fire
revives and the flame ascends when the burning fuel is
disturbed. Then when the burning brand touches it,
the soul feels that the wound it has thus received is
delicious beyond all imagination. For beside being
altogether moved or stirred, at the time of this stirring
of the fire, by the vehement movement of the seraph,
wherein the ardour and the melting of love is great, it
feels that its wound is perfect, and that the herbs which
serve to attemper the steel are efficacious ; it feels the
very depths of the spirit transpierced, and its delight
to be exquisite beyond the power of language to express.
The soul feels, as it were, a most minute grain of mustard
seed, most pungent and burning in the inmost heart of
the spirit ; in the spot of the wound, where the sub
stance and the power of the herb reside, diffuse itself

* See Life of the Teresa, written by herself , xxix. 17 (transverbera -
tion of her heart),

38 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

most subtilely through all the spiritual veins of the soul
in proportion to the strength and power of the heat.
It feels its love to grow, strengthen, and refine itself to
such a degree, as to seem to itself as if seas of fire were
in it filling it with love.

11. The fruition of the soul now cannot be described
otherwise than by saying that it understands why the
kingdom of heaven is compared in the gospel to a mus
tard seed, which by reason of its great natural heat
grows into a lofty tree. ' The kingdom of heaven is like
a grain of mustard seed, which a man took and sowed in
his field. Which is the least surely of all seeds ; but
when it is grown up, it is greater than all herbs, and is
made a tree, so that the fowls of the air come and dwell
in the branches thereof/ * The soul beholds itself now
as one immense sea of fire. Few souls, however, attain
to this state, but some have done so, especially those
whose spirit and power is to be transmitted to their
spiritual children ; since God bestows on the founder
gifts and graces, according to the succession of the order
in the first-fruits of the Spirit.

12. To return to the work of the seraph, which in
. truth is to strike and wound. If the effect of the wound

be permitted to flow exteriorly into the bodily senses, an

effect corresponding to the interior wound itself will

* St. Matth. xiii. 31, 32,

[STAN. II.] OF LOVE 39

manifest itself without. Thus it was with St. Francis,
for when the seraph wounded his soul with love, the
effects of that wound became outwardly visible. God
confers no favours on the body which He does not confer
in the first place chiefly on the soul. In that case, the
greater the joy and violence of the love which is the
cause of the interior wound, the greater will be the pain
of the visible wound, and as the former grows so does the
latter.

13. The reason is this : such souls as these, being
already purified and strong in God, their spirit, strong
and sound, delights in the strong and sweet Spirit of
God ; Who, however, causes pain and suffering in their
weak and corruptible flesh. It is thus a most marvellous
thing to feel pain and sweetness together. Job felt it
when he said, ' Returning, Thou tormentest me wonder
fully.' * This is marvellous, worthy of the multitude
of the sweetness of God, which He has hidden for them
that fear Him ; f the greater the sweetness and delight,
the greater the pain and suffering.

14. O Infinite greatness, in all things showing Thy
self omnipotent. Who, O Lord, can cause sweetness
in the midst of bitterness, and pleasure in the midst of
pain ? O delicious wound, the greater the delight the
deeper the wound. But when the wound is within

* Job x. 16. f Ps. xxx. 20,

40 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

the soul, and not communicated to the body without,
it is then much more intense and keen. As the flesh is
bridle to the spirit, so, when the graces of the latter
overflow into the former, the flesh draws in and restrains
the swift steed of the spirit and checks its course ; ' for
the corruptible body is a load upon the soul, and the
earthly habitation presseth down the mind that museth
upon many things/ * He, therefore, who shall trust
much to the bodily senses will never become a very
spiritual man.

15. This I say for the sake of those who think they
can ascend to the heights and power of the spirit, by
the mere energy and action of the senses, which are
mean and vile. We cannot become spiritual unless the
bodily sense be restrained. It is a state of things wholly
different from this, when the spirit overflows into the
senses, for there may be great spirituality in this ; as in
the case of St. Paul, whose deep sense of the sufferings
of Christ overflowed into his body, so that he said ; ' I
bear the marks of our Lord Jesus in my body.' f Thus,
as the wound and the burn, so the hand that inflicted it ;
and as the touch, so He who touched. ' O tender hand,
O gentle touch/

' O tender hand, O gentle touch/

16. O hand, as generous as Thou art powerful and

* Wisd. ix. 15. f Gal. vi. 17,

[STAN, n.] OF LOVE 41

rich, giving me gifts with power. O gentle hand ! laid
so gently upon me, and yet, if Thou wert to press at all,
the whole world must perish ; for only at the sight of
Thee the earth trembles, * the nations melt, and the
mountains are crushed in pieces, f O gentle hand, I
say it again, for him thou didst touch so sharply. Upon
me Thou art laid so softly, so lovingly, and so tenderly ;
Thou art the more gentle and sweet for me than thou
wert hard for him ; the loving sweetness with which
Thou art laid upon me is greater than the severity with
which he was touched. Thou killest, and Thou givest
life, and there is no one who shall escape out of Thy
hand.

17. But Thou, O divine life, never killest but to give
life, as Thou never woundest but to heal. Thou hast
wounded me, O divine hand ! that Thou mayest heal
me. Thou hast slain in me that which made me dead,
and without the life of God which I now live. This
Thou hast wrought in the liberality of Thy gracious
generosity, through that touch, wherewith Thou dost
touch me, of the brightness of Thy glory and the figure
of Thy substance, { Thine only begotten Son, in Whom
being Thy Wisdom, Thou reachest 'from "end to end
mightily/ §

* Ps. ciii. 32. f Hab. iii. 6.

J Heb. i. 3, § Wisd. viii. i.

42 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

18. O gentle, subtile touch, the Word, the Son of
God, Who, because of the pureness of Thy divine nature,
dost penetrate subtilely the very substance of my soul,
and, touching it gently, absorbest it wholly in divine
ways of sweetness not ' heard of in the land of Canaan/
nor ' seen in Teman.' * 0 touch of the Word, so gentle,
so wonderfully gentle to me ; and yet Thou wert ' over
throwing mountains, and breaking rocks in Horeb,' by
the shadow of Thy power going before, when Thou
didst announce Thy presence to the prophet in ' the
whisper of a gentle air.' f O soft air, how is it that Thou
touchest so softly when Thou art so terrible and so
strong ? O blessed soul, most blessed, which Thou, who
art so terrible and so strong, touchest so gently. Proclaim
it to the world, O my soul — no, proclaim it not, for the
world knoweth not the ' gentle air/ neither will it listen
to it, because it cannot comprehend matters so deep.

19. O my God and my life, they shall know Thee J
and behold Thee when Thou touchest them, who, making
themselves strangers upon earth, shall purify them
selves, because purity corresponds with purity. The
more gently Thou touchest, the more Thou art hidden
in the purified soul of those who have made themselves
strangers here, hidden from the face of all creatures,

* Bar. iii. 22. f 3 Kings xix. n, 12,

| St. John xiv. 17.

[STAN, n.] OF LOVE 43

and whom ' Thou shall hide in the secret of Thy face
from the disturbance of men.' *

20. O, again and again, gentle touch, which by the,
power of its tenderness, undoest the soul, removest it
far away from every touch whatever, and makest it
Thine own ; Thou which lea vest behind Thee effects and
impressions so pure, that the touch of everything else
seems vile and low, the very sight offensive; and all
relations therewith a deep affliction. The more subtile
any matter is, the more it spreads and fills, and the more
it diffuses itself the more subtile is it. O gentle touch,
the more subtile the more infused. And now the vessel
of my soul, because Thou hast touched it, is pure and
clean and able to receive Thee.

21. O gentle touch ! as in Thee there is nothing
material, so Thy touch is the more penetrating, changing
what in rne is human into divine, for Thy Divine essence,
wherewith Thou touchest me, is wholly unaffected by
modes and manner, free from the husks of form and
figure. Finally then, O gentle touch, and most gentle,
for Thou touchest me with Thy most simple and pure
essence, which being infinite is infinitely gentle ; there
fore it is that this touch is so subtile, so loving, so deep,
and so delicious.

' Savouring of everlasting life.'

* PS. XXX, 2;.

44 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

22. What the soul tastes now in this touch of God,
is, in truth, thoiigh not perfectly, a certain foretaste of
everlasting life, as I said before.* It is not incredible
that it should be so when we believe, as we do believe^
that this touch is most substantial, and that the sub
stance of God touches the substance of the soul. Many
Saints have experienced it in this life. The sweetness of
delight which this touch occasions baffles all description.
Neither will I speak of it, lest men should suppose that
it is nothing beyond what my words imply, for there
are no terms by which we can designate or explain the
deep things of God transacted in perfect souls. The
proper way to speak of them is for him who has been
favoured with them to understand them, feel them, and
enjoy them, and be silent.

23. For the soul now sees that they are in some
measure like the white counter of which it is written
' To him that overcometh I will give ... a white
counter, and in the counter a new name written, which
no man knoweth but he that receive th it.' f Thus it
may be truly said, ' savouring of everlasting life/ For
though the fruition of it is not perfect in this life as it
will be in glory ; nevertheless the touch, being of God,
savoureth of everlasting life, and accordingly the soul
tastes in a marvellous manner, and by participation,

* Stanza i. 7. f Apoc. ii. 17,

[STAN, n.] OF LOVE 45

of all the things of God ; fortitude, wisdom, love,
beauty, grace, and goodness being communicated
unto it.

24. Now as God is all this, the soul tastes of all in
one single touch of God in a certain eminent way. And
from this good bestowed upon the soul, some of the
unction of the Spirit overflows at times into the body
itself, penetrating into the very bones, as it is written,
' All my bones shall say : Lord, who is like unto Thee ? ' *
But as all I can say falls short of the subject, it is
enough to repeat, ' savouring of everlasting life.'

'And paying the whole debt.'

25. But what debts are they to which the soul here
refers, and which it declares to be paid or satisfied ? We
should know that souls which attain to this high state,
to the kingdom of I the spiritual betrothal, have in general
passed through many tribulations and trials, because
it is ' through many tribulations that we enter into the
kingdom of heaven.' | And these tribulations are now
passed.

26. What they have to suffer who are to attain unto
union with God are divers afflictions and temptations
of sense, trials, tribulations, temptations, darkness, and
distress of mind, so that both the flesh and the spirit
may be purified together, as I said in the Dark Night

* Ps. xxxiv. 10. | Acts xiv. 21.

46 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

in my treatise of the Ascent of Mount Carmel. The
reason is that the joy and knowledge of God cannot be
established in the soul, if the flesh and spirit are not
perfectly purified and spiritualised, and as trials and
penances purify and refine the senses, as tribulations,
temptations, darkness and distress spiritualise and
prepare the spirit, so they must undergo them who would
be transformed in God — as the souls in purgatory who
through that trial attain to the beatific vision — some
more intensely than others, some for a longer, others
for a shorter time, according to those degrees of union
to which God intends to raise them, and according to
their need of purification.

27. It is by these trials to which God subjects the
spirit and the flesh that the soul, in bitterness, acquires
virtues and fortitude and perfection, as the Apostle
writes, ' Power is made perfect in infirmity ; ' * for virtue
is made perfect in weakness, and refined by sufferings.
Iron cannot be fashioned according to the pattern of
the artificer but by fire and the hammer, and during
the process its previous condition is injured. This is the
way in which God taught Jeremias, ' From on high He
hath cast a fire in my bones and hath taught me.' f
The prophet speaks of the hammer also when he saith,
' Thou hast chastised me, and I am taught/ } So, too,

* 2 Cor. xii. 9. f Lam. i. 13. J Jerem. xxxi. 18.

[STAN. IL] OF LOVE 47

the Wise Man asks, ' He that hath not been proved,
what knoweth he ? ' *

28. Here comes the question, why is it that so few
ever attain to this state ? The reason is that, in this
marvellous work which God Himself begins, so many
are weak, shrinking from trouble, and unwilling to endure
the least discomfort or mortification, or to labour with
constant patience. Hence it is that God, not finding
them diligent in cultivating the graces He has given
them when He began to try them, proceeds no further
with their purification, neither does He lift them up
out of the dust of the earth, because it required greater
courage and resolution for this than they possessed.

29. Thus it may be said to those who desire to
advance, but who will not endure a lighter trial nor
submit themselves thereto, in the words of Jeremias,
' If with running with footmen thou hast laboured
how canst thou contend with horses ? and whereas in
a land of peace thou hast been secure, what wilt thou
do in the pride of Jordan ? ' f That is, if the ordinary
trials of human life to which all men living are liable
are wearisome and a burden for thee, how art thou to
' contend with horses ' ? that is, how canst thou venture
out of the common trials of life upon others of greater
violence and swiftness ? If thou hast been unwilling

* Ecclus. xxxiv. ii. f Jerem. xii. 5.

48 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

to make war against the peace and pleasures of the
earth, thine own sensuality, but rather seekest comfort
and tranquillity on it, what wilt thou do in the pride
of Jordan ? that is, how wilt thou stand against the
rushing waters of tribulations and the more interior
trials of the spirit ?

30. O souls that seek your own ease and comfort, if
you knew how necessary for this high state is suffering,
and how profitable suffering and mortification are for
attaining to these great blessings, you would never seek
for comfort anywhere, but you would rather take up the
cross with the vinegar and the gall, and would count
it an inestimable favour, knowing that by thus dying
to the world and to your own selves, you would live to
God in spiritual joy ; in the patient endurance of your
exterior afflictions you would merit at the hands of God,
that He should look upon you, cleanse and purify you more
and more in these spiritual tribulations. They whom He
thus blesses must have served Him well and long^ must
have been patient and persevering, and their life most
pleasing in His sight. The angel said unto Tobias
' Because thou wast acceptable to God, it was necessary
that temptation should prove thee/ * Tobias was
acceptable to God, therefore He tried him ; He gave him
the grace of tribulation, the source of greater graces

* Tob. xii. 13.

[STAN. IL] OF LOVE 49

still, and it is written of him that ' the rest of his life
was in joy/ *

31. The same truth is exemplified in the life of Job.
God acknowledged him as His faithful servant in the
presence of the angels good and evil, and immediately
sent him heavy trials, that He might afterwards raise
him higher, as He did, both in temporal and spiritual
things, f

32. This is the way God deals with those whom it is
His will to exalt. He suffers them to be tempted,
afflicted, tormented and chastened, inwardly and out
wardly, to the utmost limit of their strength, that He
may deify them, unite them to Himself in His wisdom,
which is the highest state, purifying them, first in that
wisdom, as David observed, saying that the ' words of
our Lord are chaste words, silver, examined by fire/
tested in the earth of our flesh and purified J seven
times, that is, made perfectly pure.

33. It is not necessary I should stop here to say how
each of these purgations tends to the divine wisdom,
which in this life is as silver, for however pure it may be,
yet is not comparable to the pure gold, which is reserved
for everlasting glory.

34. But it is very necessary for the soul to endure
these tribulations and trials, inward and outward,

* Tob. xiv. 4. t Job i- 8-20. J Ps. xi. 7.

4

$0 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

spiritual and corporal, great and small, with great resolu
tion and patience, accepting all as from the hand of
God for its healing and its good, not shrinking from
them, because they are for the health of the soul. ' If
the spirit of him that hath power/ saith the Wise Man,
' ascend upon thee, leave not thy place, because careful
ness ' — that is healing — ' will make the greatest sins to
cease/ * ' Leave not thy place/ that is^ the place of thy
trial, which is thy troubles ; for the healing which they
bring will break the thread of thy sins and imperfections,
which is evil habits, so that they shall proceed no further.
Thus, interior trials and tribulations destroy and purge
away the imperfect and evil habits of the soul. We
are, therefore, to count it a great favour when our Lord
sends us interior and exterior trials, remembering that
they are few in number who deserve to be made perfect
through sufferings so as to attain to so high a state
as this.

35. I return to the explanation of the words before
me. The soul now remembers that its past afflictions
are most abundantly recompensed, for ' as the darkness
so also the light thereof/ f and that having once been
'a partaker of the sufferings/ it is now 'of the consola
tion/ J that its interior and exterior trials have been
recompensed by the divine mercies, none of them being

* Eccles. x. 4. f Ps. cxxxviii. 12. J 2 Cor. i. 7.

[STAN, n.] OF LOVE 51

without its corresponding reward. It therefore acknow
ledges itself perfectly satisfied, and says, ' paying the
whole debt/ as David did, ' How great tribulations hast
Thou shown me, many and evil, and turning Thou hast
quickened me, and from the depths of the earth Thou
hast brought me back again. Thou hast multiplied
Thy magnificence, and turning to me Thou hast com
forted me/ *

36. Thus the soul which once stood without at the
gates of the palace of God — like Mardochai weeping in
the streets of Susan because his life was threatened,
clothed with sackcloth and refusing the garments which
Esther sent him, unrewarded for his faithful service in
defending the king's honour and life, f — finds, also, like
Mardochai, all its trials and service rewarded in one day.
It is not only admitted within the palace and stands in
royal robes before the king, but has also a diadem on its
head, and in its hand a sceptre, and sitting on the royal
throne with the king's signet on its finger, symbols of
its power in the kingdom of the Bridegroom. For
those souls who attain to this high state obtain all their
desires ; the whole debt is amply paid : the appetites,
their enemies which sought their life, are dead, while
they are living in God. ' In destroying death Thou
hast changed it into life/

* Ps. Ixx. 20. f Esth. iv. 1-6.

52 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

' Thou hast changed death into life.'

37. Death is nothing else but the privation of life,
for when life cometh there is no trace of death in that
which is spiritual. There are two kinds of life, one
beatific, consisting in the vision of God, and this must
be preceded by a natural and bodily death, as it is written,
' We know if our earthly house of this habitation be dis
solved, that we have a building of God, a house not made
with hands, eternal in heaven.' * The other is the perfect
spiritual life, consisting in the possession of God by the
union of love. Men attain to this through the mortifica
tion of their evil habits and desires. Until this be
done, the perfection of the spiritual life of union with
God is unattainable, ' For/ as the Apostle saith, ' if you
live according to the flesh, you shall die : but if by the
spirit you mortify the deeds of the flesh, you shall live/ f

38. By ' death ' here is meant the old man, that is
the employment of our faculties, memory, understanding,
and will, upon the things of this world, and the desire on
the pleasure which created things supply. All this is the
old life ; it is the death of the new life which is spiritual,
and which the soul cannot live perfectly unless to the old
man it be perfectly dead, for so the Apostle teaches, when
he bids us put ' away according to the old conversation,
the old man . . . and put on the new man, which, accord-

* 2 Cor. v. i. f Roin. viii. 13.

[STAN. IL] OF LOVE 53

ing to God, is created in justice and holiness of the truth/*

In this new life, when the soul shall have attained

i

to perfect union with God, all its affections, powers,
and acts, in themselves imperfect and vile, become as
it were divine. And as everything that lives, to use the
expression of philosophers, lives in its acts, so the soul,
having its acts in God by virtue of its union with Him,
lives the life of God, its death being changed into life.

39. This is so, because the understanding, which,
previous to its union with God, understood but dimly by
means of its natural light, is now under the influence and
direction of another principle, and of a higher illumination
of God. The will, which previously loved but weakly, is
now changed into the life of divine love, for now it loves
deeply with the affections of divine love, moved by the
Holy Ghost in whom it now lives. The memory, which
once saw nothing but the forms and figures of created
things, is now changed, and keeps in ' mind the eternal
years/ | as David spoke. The desire, which previously
longed for created food, now tastes and relishes the food
that is divine, influenced by another and more efficacious
principle, the sweetness of God.

40. Finally, all the motions and acts of the soul,
proceeding from the principle of its natural and imperfect
life, are now changed in this union with God into motions

* Ephes. iv. 22, 24. f Ps. Ixxvi. 6.

54 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

divine. For the soul, as the true child of God, is moved
by the Spirit of God, as it is written, ' Whosoever are led
by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God/ * The
substance of the soul, though it is not the substance of
God, because inconvertible into Him, yet being united to
Him and absorbed in Him, is by participation God. This
is accomplished in the perfect state of the spiritual life,
but not so perfectly as in the other ; hence is it well said :
' While slaying thou hast changed death into life.'

41. The soul, therefore, has good reason for saying
with St. Paul, ' I live, now not I, but Christ liveth in me/ f
What in the soul is dead and cold, becomes changed into
the life of God, the soul ' swallowed up of life ' J in ful
filling the words of the Apostle, ' Death is swallowed up
in victory/ § and those of Osee, ' I will be thy death,
O death/ ||

42. The soul being thus swallowed up of life, detached
from all secular and temporal things, and delivered from
the disorderliness of nature, is led into the chamber of
the King, where it rejoices and is glad in the Beloved,
remembering His breasts more than wine, and saying,
' I am black but beautiful, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, ' If
for my natural blackness is changed into the beauty of
the heavenly King. O then, the burning of the fire I

* Rom. viii. 14. f Gal. ii. 20. J 2 Cor. v. 4.

§ iiCor. xv. 54. || Os. xiii. 14. U Cant. i. 4.

[STAN. IL] OF LOVE 55

infinitely burning above all other fires, O how infinitely
beyond aD other fires dost thou burn me, and the more
thou burnest the sweeter thou art to me. ' O delicious
wound/ more delicious to me than all the delights and
health of the world. ' O tender hand/ infinitely more
tender than all tenderness, and the greater the pressure
of it the more tender is it to me. ' O gentle touch/ the
gentleness of which surpasses infinitely all the gentleness
and all the loveliness of created things, sweeter and more
delicious than honey and the honeycomb, because thou
savourest of everlasting life ; and is the more sweet the
more profoundly thou dost touch me. Thou art infinitely
more precious than gold and precious stones, for thou
payest debts which nothing else can pay, because thou
changest marvellously death into life.

43. In this state of life, so perfect, the soul is, as it
were, keeping a perpetual feast with the praises of God in
its mouth, with a new song of joy and love, full of the
knowledge of its high dignity. It sometimes exulteth,
repeating the words of Job, ' My glory shall always be
renewed/ and 'as a palm tree' I 'will multiply days/*
That is, God will not suffer my glory to grow old as
before, and He will multiply my days, that is, my merits,
unto heaven, as a palm tree multiplies its branches. And
also the words of David in the twenty-ninth Psalm, the

* Job xxix. 18, 20.

56 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. II.]

soul sings interiorly to God, especially the conclusion
thereof, ' Thou hast turned my mourning into joy unto
me : Thou hast cut niy sackcloth and hast compassed
me with gladness, that my glory may sing to Thee, and I
be not compunct ' — for this state is inaccessible to pain—
' Lord my God, for ever will I confess to Thee.' *

44. Here the soul is so conscious of God's solicitude
to comfort it, feeling that He is Himself encouraging it
with words so precious, so tender, so endearing ; that He
is conferring graces upon it, one upon another, so that it
seems as if there were no other soul in the world for Him
to comfort, no other object of His care, but that every
thing was done for this one soul alone. This truth is
admitted by the bride in the Canticle when she says, ' My
Beloved to me and I to Him.' f

STANZA III

O lamps of fire,

In the splendours of which

The deep caverns of sense,

Dim and dark,

With unwonted brightness

Give light and warmth together to their Beloved.

EXPLANATION

I STAND greatly in need of the help of God to enter into
the deep meaning of this stanza : great attention also is

* Ps. xxix. 12, 13. f Cant. ii. 16.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 57

necessary on the part of the reader, for if he be without
experience of the matter he will find it very obscure, while,
on the other hand, it will be clear and full of sweetness to
him who has had that experience.

2. In this stanza the soul most heartily thanks the
Bridegroom for the great mercies which, in the state of
union, it has received at His hands, for He has given
therein a manifold and most profound knowledge of
Himself, which enlightens its powers and senses, and fills
them with love. These powers, previous to the state of
union, were in darkness and blindness, but are now
illumined by the fires of love and respond thereto, offering
that very light and love to Him who has kindled and
inspired them by infusing into the soul gifts so divine.
For he who truly loves is satisfied then when his whole
self, all he is, all he can be, all he has, and all he can
acquire, is spent in the service of his love ; and the greater
that service the greater is his pleasure in giving it. Such
is the joy of the soul now, because it can shine in the pre
sence of the Beloved in the splendours with which He has
surrounded it, and love Him with that love which He has
communicated to it.

' O Lamps of fire/

3. Lamps have two properties, that of giving light and
of burning. If we are to understand this stanza, we must
keep in mind, that God in His one and simple essence is

5$ THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

all the power and majesty of His attributes. He is
omnipotent, wise, good, merciful, just, strong, loving ;
He is all the other attributes and perfections of which we
have no knowledge here below. He is all this. When the
soul is in union with Him, and He is pleased to admit it
to a special knowledge of Himself, the soul sees in Him all
these perfections and majesty together in the one and
simple essence clearly and distinctly, so far as it is con
sistent with the faith, and as each one of these attributes
is the very being of God, Who is the Father, the Son,
and the Holy Ghost — as each attribute is God Himself—
and as God is infinite light, and infinite divine fire, it
follows that each attribute gives light and burns as God
Himself. God therefore, according to this knowledge of
Him in unity, is to the soul as many lamps, because it
has the knowledge of each of them, and because they
minister to it the warmth of love, each in its own way,
and yet all of one substance, all one lamp. This lamp is
all lamps, because it gives light, and burns, in all ways.

4. The soul seeing this, the one lamp is to it as many
lamps, for though but one, it can do all things, and has
all power and comprehends every spirit. And thus it
may be said that the one lamp shines and burns many
ways in one : it shines and burns as omnipotent, as wise,
as good, ministering to the soul knowledge and love, and
revealing itself unto it, according to the measure of its

[STAN, m.] OF LOVE 59

strength for the reception of all. The splendour of the
lamp as omnipotent gives to the soul the light and warmth
of the love of God as omnipotent, and accordingly God
is now the lamp of omnipotence to the soul, shining and
burning according to that attribute. The splendour of
the lamp as wisdom produces the warmth of the love of
God as all wise, and so of the other attributes ; for the
light which emanates from each of the attributes of God
and from all the others, produces in the soul the fire of
the love of God as such. Thus God is to the soul in these
communications and manifestations 6f Himself — they
are, I think, the highest possible in this life — as innumer
able lamps from which light and love proceed.

5. These lamps revealed Him to Moses on Mount
Sinai, where God passed before Him, and where Moses
fell prostrate on the earth in all haste. He mentions
some of the perfections of God which he then saw, and,
loving Him in them, speaks of them separately in the
following words : ' O Lord God, merciful and clement,
patient and of much compassion, and true, Who keepest
mercy unto thousands ; Who takest away iniquity and
wicked deeds and sin, and no man of himself is innocent
before Thee/ * It appears that the principal attributes of
God which Moses then recognised and loved were those
of omnipotence, dominion, mercy, justice and truth

* Exod. xxxiv. 6, 7.

60 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

which was a most profound knowledge, and the deepest
delight of love.

6. It follows from this that the joy and rapture of
love communicated to the soul in the fire of the light of
these lamps is admirable, and immeasurable : as abun
dant as from many lamps, each of which burns with love,
the heat of one subserving that of the other, as the
light of one ministers to that of the other ; all of them
forming but one light and fire, and each of them that one
fire. The soul, too, infinitely absorbed in these delicious
flames, is subtilely wounded by each one of them, and
by all of them more subtilely and more profoundly, in
the love of life ; the soul sees clearly that this love is
everlasting life, which is the union of all blessings, and
recognises the truth of those words, ' The lamps thereof
lamps of fire and flames/ *

7. If ' a great and darksome horror seized upon '
Abram as he saw one ' lamp of fire passing ' f before
him, when he learned with what rigorous justice God
was about to visit the Chananeans, shall not the lamps
of the knowledge of God shining now sweetly and
lovingly produce greater light and joy of love than that
one lamp produced of horror and darkness, when it
passed before Abram ? O my soul ! how great, how
excellent, and how manifold, will be thy light and joy :

* Cant. viii. 6. f Gen. xv. 12, 17.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 61

seeing that in all, and by all, thou shalt feel that He
gives thee His own joy and love, loving thee according
to His powers, attributes, and properties. For he
who loves and does good to another honours him
and does him good according to his own nature and
qualities. Thus the Bridegroom abiding in thee, being
all-powerful, gives Himself to thee, and loves thee with
all power ; being wise, with wisdom ; being good, with
goodness ; being holy, with holiness. And as He is
liberal thou wilt feel also that He loves thee with
liberality, without self-interest, only to do thee good,
showing joyfully His countenance full of grace, and
saying : I am thine and for thee, and it is My pleasure
to be what I am, that I may give Myself to thee and
be thine.

8. Who then shall describe thy feeling, O blessed
soul, when thus beloved, and so highly honoured ?
' Thy belly as a heap of wheat compassed about with
lilies.' * ' Thy belly/ that is, thy will, is like a heap of
wheat covered and compassed with lilies ; for in the
grains of wheat which form the bread of life, which
thou now art tasting, the lilies of virtue, which gird thee
about, fill thee with delight. For the daughters of the
king, that is the virtues, will delight thee wondrously
with the fragrance of their aromatical herbs, which are

* Cant. vii. 2.

62 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

the knowledge of Himself which He gives thee. Thou
wilt be so absorbed in this knowledge, and it will be so
infused in thee that thou shalt be also ' a well of living
waters which run with a strong stream from Mount
Libanus/ * and Libanus is God. Thy joy will now be
so marvellously complete, because the words of the
Psalmist are accomplished in thee : ' The violence of
the river maketh the city of God joyful/ f

9. O wonder ! The soul is now overflowing with the
divine waters, which run from it as from an abundant
fountain unto everlasting life. J It is true that this com
munication is light and fire of the lamps of God, yet the
fire is here so sweet* that though an infinite fire, it is as
the waters of life which satisfy the soul, and quench its
thirst with that vehemence for which the spirit longs.
Thus, though they are lamps of fire, they are also the
living waters of the spirit. Those which descended on
the Apostles, though lamps of fire, were also waters pure
and limpid, according to the words of Ezechiel who thus
prophesied the descent of the Holy Ghost : ' I will pour
out upon you clean water, and will put a new spirit in the
midst of you/ § Thus though it be fire, it is water also,
a figure of which we have in the sacrificial fire, hid by
Jeremias, || it was water in the place of concealment,

* Cant. iv. 15. f Ps. xlv. 5. J St. John iv. 14.

§ Ezech. xxxvi. 25, 26. || 2 Mac. ii. i.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 63

but fire when it was brought forth and sprinkled upon the
sacrifice. *

10. So in like manner the Spirit of God, while hidden
in the veins of the soul, is sweet water quenching its
spiritual thirst ; but when the soul offers the sacrifice
of love, the Spirit is then living flames of fire, and these
are the lamps of the acts of love which the bride spoke
of in the Canticle when she said, ' The lamps thereof
lamps of fire and flames.' f The soul speaks of them
thus because it has the fruition thereof not only as
waters of wisdom, but also as the fire of love in an act
of love, saying, ' O lamps of fire/ All language now is
ineffectual to express the matter. If we consider that
the soul is now transformed in God, we shall in some
measure understand how it is true that it is also become
a fountain of living waters boiling and bubbling upwards
in the fire of love which is God.

' In the splendours/

ii. I have already said that these splendours are the
communications of the divine lamps in which the soul
in union shines with its powers, memory, understand
ing, and will, enlightened and united in this loving know
ledge. But we are not to suppose that the light of
these splendours is like that of material fire, when it
breaks into flames and heats objects external to it, but

* 2 Mac. i. 22. f Cant. viii. 6.

64 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

rather when it heats what is within it, for the soul is
now within these splendours — ' in the splendours/ That
is to say, it is within them, nor near them, within their
splendours, in the flames of the lamps, itself transformed
in flame.

12. The soul therefore may be said to resemble the
air which is burning within the flame and transformed in
fire, for the flame is nothing else but air inflamed. The
flickerings of the flame are not those of air only or of fire
only, but of air and fire together ; and the fire causes
the air which is within to burn. It is thus that the
soul with its powers is illumined in the splendours of
God. The movements of the flame, that is its vibrations
and its flickerings, are not the work of the soul only,
transformed in the fire of the Holy Ghost, nor of the
Holy Ghost only, but of the soul and of the Holy Ghost
together Who moves the soul as the fire moves the air
that is burning.

13. Thus, then, these movements of God and of the
soul together are as it were the acts of God by which
He renders the soul glorious. For these vibrations and
movements are the ' playing ' and the joyous feasts of
the Holy Ghost in the soul, spoken of before,* in which
He seems to be on the point of admitting it into ever
lasting life. And thus these movements and quiverings

* Stanza I., 10 (line 2).

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 65

of the flame are as it were goads applied to the soul,
furthering its translation into His perfect glory now that
it is really entered into Him. So with fire : all movements
and vibrations which it makes in the air burning within
it, are efforts to ascend to its proper sphere, and that as
quickly as possible, but they are all fruitless because
the air itself is within its own sphere.

14. In the same way the movements of the Holy
Ghost, though full of fire and most effectual to absorb
the soul in great bliss, do not accomplish their work until
the time is come when it is to sally forth from the sphere
of the air of this mortal life and reach the centre of the
spirit, the perfect life in Christ. These visions of the
glory of God, to which the soul is now admitted, are
more continuous than they used to be, more perfect and
more stable ; but in the life to come they will be most
perfect, unchanging, and uninterrupted. There, too,
the soul will see clearly how that God, though here ap
pearing to move within it, yet in Himself moves not at
all, as the fire moves not in its sphere. These splendours
are inestimable graces and favours which God bestows
upon the soul. They are called also overshado wings,
and are, in my opinion, the greatest and the highest
graces which can be bestowed in this life in the way
of transformation.

15. Now overshadowing is the throwing of a shadow ;
5

66 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

and to throw one's shadow over another signifies pro
tection and favour, for when the shadow of one touches
us, it is a sign that he whose shadow it is stands by us to
favour and protect us. Thus it was said to the Virgin,
' The power of the Most High shall overshadow thee/ *
for the Holy Ghost was about to approach her so closely
as to ' come upon ' her. The shadow of every object
partakes of the nature and proportions of it, for if the
object be dense, the shadow will be dense and dark ; if it
be light and clear, so will be the shadow, as we see in the
case of wood or crystal : the former being dense, throws
a dark shadow, and the latter being clear, throws a
shadow that is light. In spiritual things, too, death is
the privation of all things, so the shadow of death will
be darkness, which in a manner deprives us of all things.
Thus, too, speaks the Psalmist, saying, ' sitting in dark
ness and the shadow of death/ f whether the spiritual
darkness of spiritual death, or the bodily darkness of
bodily death.

16. The shadow of life is light, if divine, a divine
light, and if the shadow be human, the light is natural,
and so the shadow of beauty will be as another beauty
according to the nature and properties of that beauty
of which it is the shadow. The shadow of strength will
be as another strength, in measure and proportion.

* St. Luke i. 35. f Ps. cvi. 10.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 67

The shadow of wisdom will be another wisdom, or rather,
beauty, strength, and wisdom themselves will be in the
shadow, wherein is traced the form and property, the
shadow whereof is there.

17. This, then, being so, what must be the shadow
of the Holy Ghost, the shadow of all His power, might,
and attributes, when He is so near the soul ? He touches
the soul not with His shadow only, for He unites Him
self to it, feeling and tasting with it the form and
attributes of God in the shadow of God : that is, feeling
and tasting the property of divine power in the shadow
of omnipotence: feeling and tasting the divine wisdom
in the shadow of the divine wisdom : and finally, tasting
the glory of God in the shadow of glory, which begets
the knowledge and the taste of the property and form
of the glory of God. All this takes place in clear and
luminous shadows, because the attributes and powers
of God are lamps, which, being resplendent and luminous
in their own nature, throw forth shadows resplendent and
luminous, and a multitude of them in one sole essence.

18. O what a vision for the soul when it shall ex
perience the power of that which Efcechiel saw : ' the
likeness of four living creatures/ and the ' wheel with
four faces/ the appearance ' like that of burning coals
of fire, and like the appearance of lamps ; ' * when it

* Ezech. i. 5, 13, 15.

68 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

shall behold that wheel, the wisdom of God, full of eyes
within and without, that is the marvellous knowledge
of wisdom ; when it shall hear the noise of their wings
as they pass, a noise ' like the noise of an army/ that is
of many things at once which the soul learns by one
sole sound of God's passing before it ; and finally, when
it shall hear the beating of the wings, which is like the
' noise of many waters, as it were the voice of the Most
High God/ * which signifies the rushing of the divine
waters, the overflowing of which on the descent of the
Holy Ghost envelopes the soul in a flame of love. Here
the soul rejoices in the glory of God, under the protec
tion of His shadow, for the prophet adds : ' This was
the vision of the likeness of the glory of our Lord/f
O the height to which this blessed soul is raised ! O
how exalted ! O how it marvels at the visions it has
within the limits of the faith ! Who can describe them ?
O how it is profoundly immersed in these waters of the
divine splendours where the everlasting Father is pour
ing forth the irrigating streams with a bounteous hand,
for these streams penetrate soul and body.

19. O wonder ! the lamps of the divine attributes,
though one in substance, are still distinct, each burn
ing as the other, one being substantially the other. O
abyss of delights, and the more abundant, the more

* Ezech. i. 24. f Ib. ii. i.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 69

their riches are gathered together in infinite simplicity
and unity. There each one is so recognised and felt
as not to hinder the feeling and recognition of the other ;
yea, rather everything in Thee is light which does not
impede anything; and by reas'on of Thy pureness, O
divine Wisdom, many things are known in Thee in one,
for Thou art the treasury of the everlasting Father,
' the brightness of eternal light, the unspotted mirror of
God's majesty, and the image of His goodness/ * ' in
the splendours/

'The deep caverns of sense/

20. The caverns are the powers of the soul, memory,
understanding, and will, and their depth is commen
surate with their capacity for great good, because no
thing less than the infinite can fill them. What they
suffer when they are empty, shows in some measure the
greatness of their delight when they are full of God ; for
contraries are known by contraries. In the first place,
it is to be remembered that these caverns are not con
scious of their extreme emptiness when they are not
purified and cleansed from all affection for created
things. In this life every trifle that enters them is
enough to perplex them, to render them insensible to
their loss, and unable to recognise the infinite good
which is wanting, or their own capacity for it. It is
* Wisd. vii. 26.

7° THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

assuredly a most wonderful thing how, notwithstanding
their capacity for infinite good, a mere trifle perplexes
them, so that they cannot become the recipients ot
that for which they are intended, till they are completely
emptied.

21. But when they are empty and cleansed, the
hunger, the thirst, and the anxiety of the spiritual sense
become intolerable, for as the appetite of these caverns
is large, so their suffering is great, because the food
which they need is great, namely, God. This feeling
of pain, so deep, usually occurs towards the close of
the illumination and the purgation of the soul, previous
to the state of perfect union, during which it is satisfied.
For when the spiritual appetite is empty, pure from
every creature and from every affection thereto, and
when the natural temper is lost and the soul attempered
to the divine, and the emptied appetite is well disposed
— the divine communication in the union with God being
still withheld — the pain of this emptiness and thirst is
greater than that of death, especially then when certain
glimpses of the divine ray are visible, but not communi
cated. Souls in this state suffer from impatient love,
and they cannot endure it long without either receiving
that which they desire, or dying.*

22. As to the first cavern, which is the understand-

* See Spirit. Cant., Stanza vii. 3,

[STAN, m.] OF LOVE 71

ing, its emptiness is the thirst after God, So great is
this thirst, that the Psalmist compares it to that of the
hart, for he knew of none greater, saying, ' As the hart
desireth the fountains of waters : so doth my soul
desire Thee, O God/ * This thirst is a thirst for the
waters of the divine Wisdom, the object of the under
standing. The second cavern is the will, and the
emptiness thereof is a hunger so great after God, that
the soul faints away, as the Psalmist saith, ' My soul
longeth and fainteth for the courts of our Lord/ f This
hunger is for the perfection of love, the object of the
soul's desires. The third cavern is the memory, and
the emptiness thereof is the soul's melting away and
languishing for the possession of God : ' I will be mind
ful and remember/ saith Jeremias, ' and my soul shall
languish within me : these things I shall think over in
my heart, therefore will I hope/ J

23. Great, then, is the capacity of these caverns,
because that which they are capable of containing is
great and infinite, that is, God. Thus their capacity is
in a certain sense infinite, their hunger and thirst infinite
also, and their languishing and their pain, in their way,
infinite. So when the soul is suffering this pain, though
the pain be not so keen as in the other world, it seems

* Ps. xli. 2. f Ib. Ixxxiii. 3.

1 Lam. in. 20, 21.

72 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

to be a vivid image of that pain, because the soul is in
a measure prepared to receive that which fills it, the
privation of which is the greatest pain. Nevertheless
the suffering belongs to another condition, for it abides
in the depth of the will's love ; but in this life love
does not alleviate the pain, because the greater it is the
greater the soul's impatience for the fruition of God,
for which it hopes continually with intense desire.

24. But, O my God, seeing it is certain that when
the soul truly longs for God it is already, as St. Gregory
saith,* entered into possession, how comes it that it is
in pain ? If the desire of the angels, of which St. Peter
speaks, to look upon the Son of God f is free from pain
and anxiety, because they have the fruition of Him, it
would seem then that the soul also having the fruition
of God in proportion to its desire of Him — and the
fruition of God is the fulness of delight — must in this
its desire, in proportion to its intensity, be conscious
of that fulness, seeing that it longs so earnestly after
God, and so herein there ought not to be any suffering
or pain.

25. But it is not so, for there is a great difference
between the fruition of God by grace only, and the
fruition of Him in union ; the former is one of mutual

* ' Qui ergo mente Integra Deum desiderat, profecto jam habet quern
amat.' — Horn. 30 in Evangel. f i St. Pet. i, 12,

[STAN, m.] OF LOVE 73

good will, the latter one of special communion. This
difference resembles that which exists between betrothal
and marriage. The former implies only an agreement
and consent ; bridal presents, and ornaments graciously
given by the bridegroom. But marriage involves also
personal union and mutual self-surrender. Though in
the state of betrothal, the bridegroom is sometimes seen
by the bride, and gives her presents ; yet there is no
personal union, which is the end of betrothal. *

26. In the same way, when the soul has become so
pure in itself, and in its powers, that the will is purged
completely from all strange desires and inclinations, in
its higher and lower nature, and is wholly given up to
God, the will of both being one in free and ready con
cord, it has then attained to the fruition of God by
grace in the state of betrothal and conformity of will.
In this state of spiritual betrothal of the soul and the
Word, the Bridegroom confers great favours upon the
soul, and visits it oftentimes most lovingly to its great
comfort and delight, but not to be compared with those
of the spiritual marriage.

27. Now, though it is true that this takes place in
the soul when it is perfectly cleansed of every affection
to creatures — because that must occur previous to the
spiritual betrothal — still other positive dispositions on

*,St. Teresa, Inferior Castle, V Mansion, iv. i, 2 ; VII Mansion, ii. 3,

74 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

the part of God, His visits and gifts of greater excellence,
are requisite for this union, and for the spiritual mar
riage. It is by means of these dispositions, gifts, and
visits, that the soul grows more and more in purity,
beauty, and refinement, so as to be meetly prepared for
a union so high. All this requires time, in some souls
more, in others less. We have a type of this in the
history of the virgins chosen for king Assuerus. These
were taken in all the provinces of the kingdom, and
brought from their fathers' houses ; but before they
could be presented to the king, they were kept in the
palace a whole year. For six months they were
anointed with oil of myrrh, and for the other six
with certain perfumes and sweet spices of a costlier
nature, after which they appeared in the presence of
the king.*

28. During the time of the betrothal, and in expec
tation of the spiritual marriage in the unction of the
Holy Ghost, when the unction disposing the soul for
union is most penetrating, the anxieties of the caverns
are wont to become most pressing and keen. For as
these unctions are a proximate disposition for union
with God, because most near unto Him, they make the
soul more eager for Him, and 'nspire it with a keener
longing after Him. Thus this desire is much more keen
* Esth. it. 2, 12,

[STAN. IIL] OF LOVE 75

and deep, because the desire for God is a preparation for
union with Him.

29. This is a good opportunity to warn souls whom
God is guiding to this delicate unction to take care what
they are doing, and to whose hands they commit them
selves, that they may not go backwards, were it not
beside my purpose. But such is the pain and grief of
heart which I feel at the sight of some souls who go
backwards, not only by withdrawing themselves from
the further anointing of the Holy Ghost, but by losing
the effects of what they have already received, that I
cannot refrain from speaking on the subject, and telling
them what they ought to do in order to avoid so great
a loss. I will therefore leave my subject for a moment,
but I shall return to it soon again. And in truth the
consideration of £his matter tends to elucidate the pro
perty of these caverns, and it is also necessary, not
only for those souls who prosper in their work, but
also for all others who are searching after the Beloved.

30. In the first place, if a soul is seeking after God,
the Beloved is seeking it much more ; if it sends after
Him its loving desires, which are sweet as ' a pillar of
smoke of aromatical spices, of myrrh and frankin
cense/ * He on His p*art sends forth the odour of His
ointments, which draw the soul and make it run after

* Cant. iii. 6.

76 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

Him.* These ointments are His divine inspirations
and touches, which if they come from Him, are always
directed and ordered by the motives of perfection ac
cording to the law of God and the faith, in which
perfection the soul must ever draw nearer and nearer
unto God. The soul, therefore, ought to see that
the desire of God in all the graces which He be
stows upon it by means of the unction and odour of
His ointments, is to dispose it for another and higher
unction, and more in unio'n with His nature, until it
attains to that simple and pure disposition, which is
meritorious of the divine union, and of its transforma
tion in all its powers.

31. The soul, therefore, considering that God is the
chief doer in this matter, that it is He Who guides it
and leads it by the hand whither it cannot come of itself,
namely, unto supernatural things beyond the reach of
understanding, memory, and will, must take especial
care to put no difficulties in the way of its guide, Who
is the Holy Ghost, on that road along which He leads
it by the law of God and the faith. Such a difficulty
will be raised if the soul intrusts itself to a blind guide ;
and the blind guides which can lead it astray are three,
namely, the spiritual director, the devil, and its own
self.

* Cant. i. 3.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 77

32. As to the first of these, it is of the greatest im
portance to the soul desirous of perfection and anxious
not to fall back, to consider well into whose hands it
resigns itself ; for as the master so is the disciple ; as
the father so the child. You will scarcely find one who
is in all respects qualified to guide a soul in the higher
parts of this road, or even in the ordinary divisions of
it, for a director must be learned, prudent and experi
enced. Though the foundations of good direction be
learning and discretion, yet if experience of the higher
ways be wanting, there are no means of guiding a soul
therein when God is showing the way, and inexperi
enced directors may do great harm. Such directors, not
understanding these ways of the Spirit, very frequently
make souls lose the unction of the delicate ointments,
by means of which the Holy Ghost is preparing them
for Himself : they are guiding them by other means
of which they have read, but which are adapted only
for beginners. These directors, knowing how to guide
beginners only — and God grant they may know that—
will not suffer their penitents to advance, though it be
the will of God, beyond the mere rudiments, acts of
reflection and imagination, whereby their progress is
extremely little.*
33. In order to have a better knowledge of the state

* St. Teresa, Life, ch. xiii. passim; Way of Perfection, v. i, 2,

7§ THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

of beginners, we must keep in mind that it is one of
meditation and of acts of reflection. It is necessary to
furnish the soul in this state with matter for meditation,
that it may make reflections and interior acts, and avail
itself of the sensible spiritual heat and fervour, for this
is necessary in order to accustom the senses and desires
to good things, that, being satisfied by the sweetness
thereof, they may be detached from the world.

34. When this is in some degree effected, God begins
at once to introduce the soul into the state of contem
plation, and that very quickly, especially religious,
because these, having renounced the world, quickly
fashion their senses and desires according to God ; they
have therefore to pass at once from meditation to con
templation. This passage, then, takes place when the
discursive acts and meditation fail, when sensible sweet
ness and first fervours cease, when the soul cannot make
reflections as before, nor find any sensible comfort, but
is fallen into aridity, because the chief matter is changed
into the spirit, and the spirit is not cognisable by sense.
As all the natural operations of the soul, which are
within its control, depend on the senses only, it follows
that God is now working in a special manner in this
state, that it is He that infuses and teaches, that the
soul is the recipient on which He bestows spiritual
blessings by contemplation, the knowledge and the love

[STAN, m.] OF LOVE 79

of Himself together ; that is, He gives it loving know
ledge without the instrumentality of its discursive acts,
because it is no longer able to form them as before.

35. At this time, then, the direction of the soul must
be wholly different from what it was at first. If for
merly it was supplied with matter for meditation and it
did meditate, now that matter must be withheld and
meditation must cease because, as I have said, it can
not meditate, do what it will, and distractions are the
result.* If before it looked for fervour and sweetness
and found them, let it look for them no more nor desire
them ; and if it attempt to seek them, not only will it
not find them, but it will meet with aridity, because it
turns away from the peaceful and tranquil good secretly
bestowed upon it, when it attempts to fall back on the
operations of sense. In this way it loses the latter
without gaining the former, because the senses have
ceased to be the channel of spiritual good.

36. Souls in this state are not to be forced to medi
tate or to apply themselves to discursive reflections
laboriously effected, neither are they to strive after
sweetness and fervour, for if they did so, they would
be thereby hindering the principal agent, Who is God
Himself, for He is now secretly and quietly infusing
wisdom into the soul, together with the loving knowledge

* Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk. ii., ch. xiii., and ch. xv. i.

8O THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

of Himself, without many divers distinct or separated
acts. But He produces them sometimes in the soul,
and that for some space of time. The soul then must be
lovingly intent upon God without distinctly eliciting
other acts beyond these to which He inclines it ; it must
be as it were passive, making no efforts of its own, purely,
simply, and lovingly intent upon God, as a man who
opens his eyes with loving attention. For as God is
now dealing with the soul in the way of bestowing by
simple and loving knowledge, so the soul also, on its
part, must deal with Him in the way of receiving by
simple and loving knowledge, so that knowledge may
be joined to knowledge, and love to love ; because it
is necessary here that the recipient should be adapted
to the gift, and not otherwise, and that the gift may be
accepted and preserved as it is given.

37. It is evident, therefore, that if the soul does not
now abandon its ordinary way of meditation, it will
receive this gift of God in a scanty and imperfect manner,
not in that perfection with which it is bestowed ; for the
gift being so grand, and an infused gift, cannot be received
in this scanty and imperfect way. Consequently, if the
soul will at this time make efforts of its own, and en
courage another disposition than that of passive loving
attenion, most submissive and calm, and if it does not
abstain from its previous discursive acts, it will place a

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 81

barrier against those graces which God is about to
communicate to it in this loving knowledge. He gives
His grace to beginners in the exercise of purgation, as I
have said,* and afterwards with an increase of the
sweetness of love.

38. But if the soul is to be the recipient of His grace
passively, in the natural way of God, and not in the
supernatural way of the soul, it follows that, in order to
be such a recipient, it must be perfectly detached, calm,
peaceful, and serene, as God is ; it must be like the
atmosphere, which the sun illumines and warms in pro
portion to its calmness and purity. Thus the soul must
be attached to nothing, not even to meditation, not to
sensible or spiritual sweetness, because God requires a
spirit free and annihilated, for every act of the soul, even
of thought, of liking or disliking, will hinder and disturb
it, and break that profound silence of sense and spirit
necessary for hearing the deep and soft voice of God,
Who, in the words of Osee, speaks to the heart in soli
tude ; f it is in profound peace and tranquillity that the
soul, like David, is to listen to God, Who will speak peace
unto His people. J When this takes place, when the soul
feels that it is silent and listens, its loving attention must
be most pure, without a thought of self, in a manner self-

* Dark Night, bk. i, ch. viii.
f Os. ii. 14. I Ps. Ixxxiv. 9.

82 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

forgotten, so that it shall be wholly intent upon hearing,
for thus it is that the soul is, free and ready for that which
our Lord requires at its hands.

39. This tranquillity and self-forgetfulness are ever
attended with a certain interior absorption ; and, there
fore, under no circumstances whatever, either of time or
place, is it lawful for the soul, now that it has begun to
enter the state of contemplation, tranquil and simple, to
recur to its previous meditation, or to cleave to spiritual
sweetness, as I have said, and at great length, in the
tenth chapter of the first book of the Dark Night, and
previously in the last chapter of the second, and in the
first of the third book of the Ascent of Mount Carmel.
It must detach itself from all spiritual sweetness, rise
above it in freedom of spirit ; this is what the prophet
Habacuc did, for he says of himself, ' I will stand upon
my watch ' over my senses — that is, I will leave them
below — ' and fix my step upon the munition ' of my
faculties — that is, they shall not advance a step even in
thought — ' and I will behold 'to see what will be said to
me/ * that is, I will receive what God shall communicate
to me passively.

40. I have already said f that to contemplate is to
receive, and it is impossible to receive the highest wisdom,
that is contemplation, otherwise than in a silent spirit,

* Habac. ii. i. t Dark Night, bk. i, ch. ix.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 83

detached from all sweetness and particular knowledge.
So the Prophet Isaias when he says, ' Whom shall He
teach knowledge ? and whom shall He make to under
stand the thing heard ? them that are weaned from the
milk/ that is from sweetness and pe'rsonal likings, ' that
are plucked away from the breasts/ * from reliance on
particular knowledge. Take away, O spiritual man, the
mote and the film from thine eye, and make it clean, and
then the sun will shine for thee, and thou shalt see clearly,
establish thy soul in the freedom of calm peace, withdraw
it from the yoke and slavery of the miserable efforts of
thine own strength, which is the captivity of Egypt — for
all thou canst do is little more than to gather straw for
the bricks — and guide it into the land of promise flowing
with milk and honey.

41. O spiritual director, remember it is for this liberty
and holy rest of sons that God calls the soul into the
wilderness ; there it journeys in festal robes, with orna
ments of gold and silver, f for the Egyptians are spoiled
and their riches carried away.J Nor is this all : the
enemies of the soul are drdwned in the sea of contempla
tion, where the Egyptian of sense finds no support for his
feet, leaving the child of God free, that is the spirit, to
transcend the narrow limits of its own operations, of its
low views, rude perceptions, and wretched likings. God
* Is. xxviii. 9. t Exod. xxxiii. 4. J Ib. xii. 35.

84 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

does all this for the soul that He may give it the sweet
manna, which, though ' it contains all that is delicious
and the sweetness of every taste ' * — objects of desire
for the soul according to thy direction — and though it
is so delicious that it melts in the mouth, thy penitent
shall not taste of it, if he desires anything else, for he
shall not receive it.

42. Strive, therefore, to root out of the soul all desire
of consolation, sweetness, and meditations ; ao not dis
quiet it about spiritual things, still less about earthly
things ; establish it in perfect detachment, and in the
utmost possible solitude. For the greater its progress
in this, and the more rapidly it attains to this calm tran
quillity, the more abundant will be the infusion of the
spirit of divine wisdom, the loving, calm, lonely, peaceful,
sweet ravisher of the spirit. The soul will ieel itself
at times enraptured, gently and tenderly wounded, not
knowing by whom, how, or when, because the Spirit
communicates Himself to it without effort on its part.
The least work of God in the soul in this state of holy
rest and solitude is an inestimable good, transcending the
very thought of the soul and of its spiritual guide, and
though it does not appear so then, it will show itself in
due time.

43. What the soul is now conscious of is a certain

* Wisd. xvi. 20.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 85

estrangement and alienation from all things around it,
at one time more than at another, with a certain sweet
aspiration of love and life of the spirit, an inclination to
solitude, and a sense of weariness in the things of this
world, for when we taste of the spirit, the flesh becomes
insipid. But the interior goods which silent contempla
tion impresses on the soul without the soul's conscious
ness of them, are of inestimable value, for they are the
most secret and delicious unctions of the Holy Ghost,
whereby He secretly fills the soul with the riches of His
gifts and graces ; for being God, He, doeth the work of
God as God.

44. These goods, then, these great riches, these sub
lime and delicate unctions, this knowledge of the Holy
Ghost, which, on account of their exquisite and subtile
pureness, neither the soul itself, nor he who directs it,
can comprehend, but only He Who infuses them in order
to render it more pleasing to Himself — are most easily,
even by the slightest application of sense or desire to
any particular knowledge or sweetness, disturbed and
hindered. This is a serious evil, grievous and lament
able. O how sad and how wonderful ! The evil done
is not perceived, and the barrier raised between God
and the soul is almost nothing, and yet it is more grievous,
an object of deeper sorrow, and inflicts a greater stain,
than any other, though seemingly more important, in

86 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

common souls which have not attained to such a high
state of pureness. It is as if a beautiful painting were
roughly handled, besmeared with coarse and vile colours ;
for the injury done is greater, more observable, and
more deplorable, than it would be if a multitude of
common paintings were thus bedaubed.

45. Though this evil be so great that it cannot be
exaggerated, it is still so common that there is scarcely
one spiritual director who does not inflict it upon souls
whom God has begun to lead by this way to contem
plation. For, whenever God is anointing a soul with
the unction of loving knowledge, most delicate, serene,
peaceful, lonely, strange to sense and imagination ;
whenever He withholds all sweetness from it, and sus
pends its power of meditation — because He reserves it
for this lonely unction, inclining it to solitude and quiet
— a spiritual director will appear, who, like a rough
blacksmith, knows only the use of his hammer, and
who, because all his knowledge is limited to the coarser
work, will say to it : Come, get rid of this, this is waste
of time and idleness : arise and meditate, resume, thine
interior acts, for it is necessary that thou shouldest make
diligent efforts of thine own ; everything else is delusion
and folly. Such a director as this does not understand
the degrees of prayer, nor the ways of the Spirit, neither
does he consider that what he recommends the soul to

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 87

do is already done, since it has passed beyond medita
tion and is detached from the things of sense ; for when
the goal is reached, and the journey ended, all further
travelling must be away from the goal.

46. Such a director, therefore, is one who understands
not that the soul has already attained to the life of the
Spirit, wherein there is no reflection, and where the
senses cease from their work ; where God is Himself
the agent in a special way, and is speaking in secret to
the solitary soul. Directors of this kind bedaub the
soul with the coarse ointments of particular knowledge
and sensible sweetness, to which they bring it back ;
they rob it of its loneliness and recollection, and conse
quently disfigure the exquisite work which God was
doing within it. The soul that is under such guidance
as this fails in one method and does not profit by the
other.

47. Let spiritual directors of this kind remember
that the Holy Ghost is the principal agent here, and the
real guide of souls ; that He never ceases to take care
of them and never neglects any means by which they
may profit and draw near unto God as quickly as possible,
and in the best way. Let them remember that they
are not the agents, but instruments only to guide souls
by the rule of the faith and the law of God, according
to the spirit which God gives to every one. Their aim

THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

therefore should be, not to guide souls by a way of their
own suitable to themselves, but to ascertain, if they
can, the way by which God Himself is guiding them.
It they cannot ascertain it, let them leave these souls
alone and not disquiet them. Let them adapt their
instructions to the direction of God, and endeavour to
lead their penitents into greater solitude, liberty, and
tranquillity, and not fetter them when God is leading
them on.

48. The spiritual director must not be anxious or
afflicted because the soul is doing nothing, as he imagines,
for provided the soul of his penitent be detached from
all particular knowledge, from every desire and inclina
tion of sense ; provided it abide in the self-denial of
poverty of spirit, emptied of darkness and sweetness,
weaned from the breast — for this is all that the soul
should look to, and all that the spiritual director is to
consider as within the province of them both — it is
impossible — according to the course of the divine good
ness and mercy — that God will not perform His own
work, yea, more impossible than that the sun should not
shine in a clear and cloudless sky. As the sun rising in
the morning enters the house if the windows are open,
so God, the unsleeping keeper of Israel,* enters the
emptied soul and fills it with good things. God is,

* Ps. cxx. 4.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 89

like the sun, above our souls and ready to enter within
them.

49. Let spiritual directors, therefore, be content to
prepare souls according to the laws of evangelical per
fection, which consists in detachment, and in the empti
ness of sense and spirit. Let them not go beyond this
with the building, for that is the work of our Lord
alone, from Whom cometh ' every perfect gift.' * For,
' unless our Lord build the house, they labour in vain
that build it.' f And as He is the supernatural builder,
He will build up in every soul, according to His own
good pleasure, the supernatural building. Do thou, who
art the spiritual director, dispose the natural faculties by
annihilating them in their acts — that is thy work ; the
work of God, as the Wise Man says,| is to direct man's
steps towards supernatural goods by ways and means
utterly unknown to thee and thy penitent.

50. Say not, therefore, that thy penitent is making
no progress, or is doing nothing, for if he have no greater
pleasure than he once had in particular knowledge,
he is advancing towards that which is above nature.
Neither do thou complain that thy penitent has no
distinct perceptions, for if he had he would be making
no progress, because God is incomprehensible, surpassing
all understanding. And so the further the penitent

* St. James i. 17. f Ps. cxxvi. i. J Prov. xvi. i, 9.

90 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

advances, the further from himself must he go, walking
by faith, believing and not seeing ; he thus draws
nearer unto God by not understanding, than by under
standing. Trouble not thyself about this, for if the
understanding goes not backwards occupying itself with
distinct knowledge and other matters of this world, it
is going forwards ; for to go forwards is to go more and
more by faith. The understanding, having neither the
knowledge nor the power of comprehending God, ad
vances towards Him by not understanding.* Thus,
then, what thou judgest amiss in thy penitent is for
his profit : namely, that he does not perplex himself
with distinct perceptions, but walks onwards in perfect
faith.

51. Or, you will say, perhaps, that the will, if the
understanding have no distinct perceptions, will be
at the least idle, and without love, because we can love
nothing that we do not know. That is true as to the
natural actions of the soul, for the will does not love
or desire anything of which there is no distinct con
ception in the understanding. But in the matter of
infused contemplation, it is not at all necessary for the
soul to have distinct knowledge, or to form many dis
cursive acts, because God Himself is then communicating
to it loving knowledge, which is at the same time heat

* St. Teresa, Life, ch. xviii. 18.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 91

and light indistinctly, and then according to the state
of the understanding love also is in the will. As the
knowledge is general and dim — the understanding being
unable to conceive distinctly what it understands — so
the will also loves generally and indistinctly. For as
God is light and love in this delicate communication, He
informs equally the understanding and the will, though
at times His presence is felt in one more than in the
other. At one time the understanding is more filled
with knowledge than the will with love, and at another,
love is deeper than knowledge.

52. There is no reason, therefore, to be afraid of the
will's idleness in this state, for if it ceases to elicit acts
directed by particular knowledge, so far as they depend
on itself, God inebriates it with infused love through the
knowledge which contemplation ministers, as I have
just said.

53. These acts of the will which are consequent upon
infused contemplation are so much the nobler, the more
meritorious and the sweeter, the nobler the source, God,
Who infuses this love and kindles it in the soul, for the
will is now near unto God, and detached from other
joys. Take care, therefore, to empty the will and
detach it from all its inclinations, for if it is not going
backwards, searching after sweetness and comfort, even
though it have none in God distinctly felt, it is really

92 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

advancing upwards above all such things to God, seeing
that it is without any particular pleasure.

54. And though the penitent have no particular
comfort in God distinctly apprehended, though he does
not make distinct acts of love, he does find more comfort
in Him in that general secret and dim infusion than if
he were under the influence of distinct acts of knowledge,
because the soul sees clearly then that not one of them
can furnish so much comfort and delight as this calm and
lonely infusion. He loves God, too, more than all lovely
things, because the soul has thrown aside all other joys
and pleasures ; they have become insipid.

55. There is no ground for uneasiness here, for if the
will can find no rest in the joys and satisfactions of
particular acts, there is then real progress, because not
to go backwards, embracing what is sensible, is to go
onwards to the unapproachable, Who is God. Hence,
then, if the will is to advance, it is to do so more by
detachment from, than by attachment to, what is
pleasurable and sweet. Herein is fulfilled the precept of
love, namely, that we are to love Him above all things.
And if this love is to be perfect, we must live in perfect
detachment, and in a special emptiness of all things.

56. Neither are we to be distressed when the memory
is emptied of all forms and figures ; for as God is with
out form or figure, the memory is safe when emptied of

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 93

them, and draws thereby the nearer to God. For the
more the memory relies on the imagination, the further
it departs from God, and the greater the risks it runs ;
because God, being above our thoughts, is not cognisable
by the imagination. These spiritual directors, not
understanding souls who have already entered into the
state of quiet and solitary contemplation, because they
know it not, and perhaps have never advanced beyond
the ordinary state of reflection and meditation them
selves, look upon the penitents, of whom I am speaking,
as idle — for ' the sensual man,' the man who still dwells
with the feelings of the sensual part of the soul, ' per-
ceiveth not these things that are of the Spirit of God ' *
—disturb the peace of that calm and tranquil contem
plation given them by God, and force them back to their
former meditations.

57. This is followed by great loss, repugnance,
dryness, and distractions on the part of penitents, who
desire to abide in quiet and peaceful self-recollection.
These directors will have them strive after sweetness and
fervours, though in truth they should have given them
a wholly different advice. The penitents are unable to
follow their direction, being incapable of meditating as
before ; because the time for that is past, and because
that is not their road. They are, therefore, doubly

* i Cor. a. 14.

94 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

disquieted, and imagine themselves in the way of perdi
tion. Their directors encourage them in this supposi
tion, dry up their spirit, rob them of the precious unctions
which God gave them in solitude and calm — and this is
a great evil — and furnish them with mere mud instead,
for they lose the former, and labour in vain with the
latter.

58. Such directors as these do not really know what
spirituality is. They wrong God most grievously, and
treat Him irreverently, putting forth their coarse hands
to the work which He is doing Himself. It has cost
God not a little to have brought souls thus far, and He
greatly prizes this solitude to which He has led them,
this emptiness of their faculties, for He has brought them
thither that He may speak to their heart,* that is what
He always desires. He is now taking them by the
hand and reigning in them in the abundance of peace.
He has deprived the discursive faculties of their strength,
wherewith they had ' Iaboure4 all the night ' and had
taken nothing, f He feeds them now in spirit, not by
the operation of sense, because the senses together with
their acts cannot contain the spirit.

59. How precio.us in His sight is this calm, or sleep,
or annihilation of the senses, His words in the Canticle
show : ' I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the

* Os. ii. 14. f St. Luke v. 5.

[STAN. III.] OF LOVE 95

roes and harts of the fields, that you stir not up nor
awake my beloved till she please/ * Those words tell
us how much He loves this sleep and lonely oblivion of
the soul, by the mention of those solitary and retiring
animals. But the spiritual directors of whom I am
speaking will not suffer their penitents to rest, they
insist upon continual labour, so that God shall find no
opportunity for doing His work ; the work of God they
undo and disfigure by the work of the soul, and the
little foxes that destroy the vines are not driven away.
God complains of these directors by the mouth of the
Prophet, saying, ' You have devoured the vineyard. 'f

60. But it may be said that these directors err,
perhaps, with good intentions, because their knowledge
is scanty. Be it so ; but they are not therefore justified
in giving the rash counsels they do, without previously
ascertaining the way and spirit of their penitent. And
if they do not understand the matter, it is not for them
to interfere in what they do not comprehend, but rather
to leave their penitent to others who understand him
better than they. It is not a light fault to cause by a
wrong direction the loss of inestimable blessings, and to
endanger a soul. Thus, he who rashly errs, being under
an obligation to give good advice — for so is every one in
the office he assumes — shall not go unpunished for the

* Cant. iii. 5. f Is. iii. 14.

96 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

evil he has done. The affairs of God are to be handled
with great caution and watchful circumspection, and
especially this, which is so delicate, and so high, and
where the gain is infinite if the direction given be right,
and the loss also infinite if it be wrong.

61. But if you say that such a director may be
excused — though for my part I do not see how — you
must at least admit that he is inexcusable who keeps a
penitent in his power for certain empty reasons and
considerations known only to himself : he will not go
unpunished. It is quite certain that a soul which is to
make progress in the spiritual life, and which God is
ever helping, must change its method of prayer, and be
in need of a higher direction and of another spirit than
those of such a director. Not all directors have the
knowledge which every event on the spiritual road re
quires : neither are they all qualified to determine how
a given soul is to be directed under every circumstance
of the spiritual life ; at least they must not presume
that they are, or that it is God's will that a particular
soul shall not advance further. As it is not everyone
who can trim a block of wood, can also carve an image
out of it ; nor can everyone form the outlines who can
carve ; nor can everyone who fashions the outlines paint
them, as neither can everyone who can paint perfect
and complete the image : for everyone of these can do

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 97

only what he understands himself ; and if any one of
them were to attempt that which is not within the
compass of his skill, he would spoil the statue.

62. So is it in the spiritual life ; for if a director
whose only work it is to trim the rude block, that is,
to make his penitent despise the world, and mortify his
desires ; or if, further, it be that of the carver, who is
to guide the soul into holy meditations, and his science
extend no further, how can he guide his penitent to the
highest perfection of the finished portrait, to that deli
cate colouring which consists not in the rough hewing
of the wood, nor in the carving thereof, nor even in the

formation of the outlines, but is rather a work which

t

God Himself perfects in the soul with His own hand ?
It is therefore quite certain that such a director as this,
whose teaching is ever the same, cannot help driving
back the penitent whom he subjects to it, or, at the least,
hindering his advancement. For what will be the
state of the image, if nothing be done to it but to rough-
hew the wood and beat it with a mallet ? What is this,
but the discipline of the faculties? When shall the
image be finished ? When shall it be ready for God to
colour it ?

63. Is it possible that any spiritual director can think
himself qualified for all this ? that he looks upon him
self as sufficiently skilful, so as to render the teaching of

7

98 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

another needless for his penitent ? Granting even that
he is qualified for the whole direction of a particular
soul, because, perhaps, such a soul has no vocation for
a higher walk, it is almost impossible that he can be
also a sufficient guide for all whom he hinders from pass
ing out of his hands into the hands of others. God
leads every soul by a separate path, and you will scarcely
meet with one spirit which agrees with another in one
half of the way by which it advances. Who can be
like St. Paul, who ' became all things to all men, that
he might save all ? ' *

64. Thou art thus become a tyrant of souls, the
robber of their liberties, claiming for thyself all the
freedom of the evangelical doctrine, and taking care
that none of thy penitents leave thee ; yea, still further,
and much worse, should it come to thy knowledge that
any of them had gone elsewhere for direction, or to dis
cuss a question which it was not convenient to submit
to thee ; or if God had led them for the purpose of
learning what thou teachest not — I say it with shame—
thou art jealous, like a husband of his wife. This is not
zeal for the honour of God, but the zeal which cometh
out of thine own pride and presumption. How couldest
thou be sure that thy penitent had no need of other
guidance than thine ? With such directors God is

* i Cor. ix. 22.

[STAN, m.] OF LOVE 99

angry and he threatens to chastise them, saying : ' Woe
to the shepherds of Israel . . . you eat the milk and you
clothed yourself with the wool . . . but my flock you did
not feed. ... I will require my flock at their hand.' *

65. These directors, therefore, ought to leave their
penitents at liberty, yea, they lie under an obligation to
allow them to have recourse to the advice of others, and
always to receive them again with a cheerful counte
nance ; for they know not by what way God intends to
lead them, especially when their present direction is
not suited to them. That, indeed, is a sign that God
is leading their penitents by another road, and that they
require another director ; they should, therefore, counsel
the change, for a contrary course of proceeding springs
from a foolish pride and presumption.

66. Let me now pass on from this and speak of other
means, fatal as the plague, which these directors, or
others worse than they, make use of in the guidance
of souls. When God sends into a soul the unctions of
holy desires, and leads it to give up the world, draws
it on to change its state of life, and to serve Him by
despising the world — it is a great matter in His eyes that
souls should have advanced to this, for the things of
the world are not according to the heart of God — these
directors, with their human reasonings and worldly

* Ezech. xxxiv. 2, 10.

100 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

motives, contrary to the doctrine of Christ, at variance
with mortification and contempt of all things, consult
ing their own interest or pleasure, or fearing where
no fear is, interpose delays or suggest difficulties, or,
what is worse, take away all such good thoughts from
the hearts of their penitents. These directors have an
evil spirit, are indevout and exceedingly worldly ; un
accustomed to the Ways of Christ, they do not enter in
themselves by the strait gate, neither will they suffer
others to enter. These are they whom our Lord threatens
in the gospel, saying : ' Woe to you lawyers, for you have
taken away the key of knowledge : you yourselves have
not entered in, and those that were entering you have
hindered/ *

67. These directors are in truth like barriers before
the gate of heaven, forgetting that God has called them
to the functions the'y exercise that they may compel
those to enter in whom He has invited. He has given
them this charge in the gospel, but they, on the con
trary, compel their penitents not to enter in by the narrow
gate which leadeth unto life.f Such a director as this
is one of the blind guides who thwarts the direction of
the Holy Ghost. This happens in many ways ; some
err knowingly ; others ignorantly ; but both the one
and the other shall be punished ; for by taking upon

* St. Luke xi. 52. | St. Matth. vii. 13, 14.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 101

themselves the office which they fill, they are bound to
understand and consider what they do.

68. The other blind guide that disturbs the soul in
this interior recollection is Satan, who, being blind him
self, desires to render the soul blind also. He labours,
therefore, when the soul has entered into those deep
solitudes wherein the delicate unctions of the Holy
Ghost are infused — he hates and envies the soul for this,
because he sees it fly beyond his reach, adorned with the
riches of God — to throw over the soul's detachment and
estrangement from the world, certain cataracts of know
ledge, and the darkness of sensible sweetness, sometimes
good, the more to entice the soul, and to draw it back
to the way of sense. He would have it fix its eyes on
this, and make use of it with a view of drawing near to
God, relying upon this kind of knowledge, and sensible

sweetness. By this means Satan distracts the soul, and

i
easily withdraws it from that solitude and recollection

wherein the Holy Ghost worketh secretly His great
marvels within.

69. And then the soul, naturally prone to sensible
satisfaction and sweetness- — especially if it aims at them
— is most easily led to rely upon such knowledge and
sweetness, and so draws back from the solitude wherein
God was working. For as the soul, as it seemed, was
doing nothing then, this new way appears preferable,

102 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

because it is something, while solitude seemed to be
nothing. How sad it is that the soul, not understanding
its own state, should, for one mouthful, disqualify itself
for feeding upon God Himself ; for He offers Himself to
be its food when He absorbs it in these spiritual and
solitary unctions of His mouth.

70. In this way, the evil spirit, for a mere nothing,
inflicts upon souls the very greatest injuries, causing the
loss of great riches, and dragging them forth, like fish
with a trifling bait, out of the depths of the pure waters
of the spirit, where they were engulfed and drowned in
God, resting upon no created support. He drags them
to the bank, and supplies them with objects whereon to
rest, and makes them walk on the earth painfully, that
they may not float on ' the waters of Siloe, that run with
silence/ * bathed in the unctions of God. It is Wonderful
how much Satan makes of this : and as a slight injury
inflicted on the soul in this state is a great one, you will
scarcely meet with one which has gone this way that
has not suffered great injuries and incurred grievous
losses. Satan stations himself with great cunning on the
frontiers between sense and spirit ; there he deludes the
soul, and feeds the senses, interposing sensible things
to keep it back, and hinder it from escaping out of his
hands.

* Is. viii. 6,

[STAN, m.] OF LOVE 103

71. The soul, too, is most easily taken by these de
vices, for it knows as yet of nothing better ; neither does
it dream that this is a loss, yea, rather, it looks on it as
a great gain, and accepts the suggestions of the evil one
gladly, for it thinks that God has come to visit it ; conse
quently it omits to enter into the inner chamber of the
Bridegroom, and stands at the door to see what is pass
ing without in the sensual part of itself.

72. The devil, in the words of Job, ' seeth every high
thing ' * that relates to souls that he may assail them.
If, therefore, a soul becomes recollected, he labours to
disturb it by horrors and fears, or by bodily pains, or
outward noise and tumults, that he may ruin it ; he
strives to draw its attention to the tumult he excites,
and to fix it upon what is passing without, and to with
draw it from the interior spirit, but when he fails in his
efforts he leaves it alone. So easily does Satan squander
great riches and bring about the ruin of these precious
souls, though he thinks this of more consequence than
the fall of many others, that he looks upon it as a small
matter because of the ease with which he effects it and
because of the little trouble it costs him.

73. We may also understand in the same sense the
following words spoken by God to Job : f ' Lo ! he shall
sop up the river and shall not marvel : and he hath confi-

* Job xli. 25, | Ib, xl. 18, 19,

IO4 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

dence that Jordan ' — the highest perfection — ' may run
into his mouth. In his eyes as with a hook he shall take
him, and with stakes he shall bore through his nostrils/
That is, he will turn away the soul from true spirituality
by means of the arrows of distinct knowledge wherewith
he pierces it, for the breath which goeth out through the
nostrils in one volume becomes dispersed if the nostrils
be pierced, and escapes through the divers perforations.

74. Again it is said, ' The beams of the sun shall be
under him, and he shall strew gold under as dirt.' * He
causes souls that have been enlightened to lose the
marvellous beams of divine knowledge, takes away and
disperses abroad the precious gold of the divine adorn
ing by which souls had been made rich.

75. O souls, now that God shows you mercies so
great, leading you into solitude and recollection, with
drawing you from the labours of sense, do not return
thereto. If your own exertions were once profitable,
enabling you to deny the world and your own selves
when you were but beginners, cease from them now when
God of His mercy has begun to work in you, for now
they will only embarrass you. If you will be careful
to lay no stress on your own operations, withdrawing
them from all things, and involving them in nothing,—
which is your duty in your present state — and wait

* job xii. 21.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 105

lovingly and sincerely upon God at the same time —
doing no violence to yourselves except to detach your
selves wholly, so as not to disturb your tranquillity and
peace — God Himself will feed you with the heavenly
food, since you cease to hinder Him.

76. The third blind guide of the soul is the soul itself,
which, not understanding its own state, disturbs and
injures itself. For as the soul knows of no operations
except those of sense ; when God leads it into solitude,
where it cannot exert its faculties and elicit the acts it
elicited before, and as it appears to itself then to be doing
nothing, it strives to elicit its previous acts more dis
tinctly and more sensibly. The consequence is dis
traction, dryness, and disgust in that very soul which
once delighted in the calm peace and spiritual silence,
wherein God Himself was in secret infusing His sweet
ness. It sometimes happens that God persists in keeping
the soul in this quiet calm, and that the soul persists
in crying out with the imagination, and in walking with
the understanding. Such souls are like children in their
mothers' arms, who, unable to walk, cry, and struggle
with their feet, demanding to be allowed to walk alone,
but who cannot walk themselves, and suffer not their
mothers to do so either. These souls make God resemble
a painter whose work is hindered because the subject
be portrays will not be still.

106 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

77. The soul, then, should keep in mind that it is
now making greater progress than it could make by any
efforts of its own, though it be wholly unconscious of
that progress. God Himself is carrying it in His own
arms, and thus it happens that it is not aware that it is
advancing. Though it thinks that it is doing nothing,
yet in truth more is done than if itself were the agent ;
for God Himself is working. If this work be invisible,
that is nothing strange, for the work of God in the soul
is not cognisable by sense, because silently wrought :
' The words of the wise are heard in silence/ * Let the
soul abandon itself to the hands of God and trust in Him.
He that will do so shall walk securely, for there is no
danger then unless the soul should attempt anything
in its own strength, or by the wilful exercise of its proper
faculties.

78. Let us now return to the deep caverns of the
senses, in which I said the sufferings of the soul are
ordinarily very great when God is anointing it, and
preparing it for union with Himself by His subtile and
delicate unctions. These unctions of God are so subtile
that, penetrating into the inmost depths of the soul,
they so dispose it, and so fill it with sweetness, that the
sufferings and fainting of the soul through its great
desire in the immense void of the caverns are immeasur-

* Eccles. ix. 17.

[STAN, m.] OF LOVE 107

able. Now if the unction which disposes the caverns
for the union of the spiritual marriage be so wonderful,
what shall the accomplishment thereof be ? Certain it
is that as the hunger and thirst and suffering of the
caverns, so will be the satisfaction, fulness, and delight
thereof. Accordirig to the perfection of these disposi
tions will be the delight of the fruition and possession
of the sense of the soul, which is the power and energy
of its very substance for perceiving and delighting in
the objects of its faculties.

79. These faculties are with great propriety called
caverns. For as the soul is conscious that they admit
the profound intelligence and splendours of the lamps, it
sees clearly also, that they are deep in proportion to the
depth of the intelligence and love ; that they have space
and capacity commensurate with the distinct sources of
the intelligence,, of the sweetness and delight which it
receives in them. All this is received and established
in the cavern of the sense of the soul which is the capacity

thereof for possession, perception, and fruition. Thus,

9.
as the common sense of the imagination is the place

where all the objects of the outward senses are treasured
up, so is this common sense of the soul enlightened and
made rich by a possession so grand and so glorious.
' Dim and dark.'

80. The eye sees not for two reasons ; either because

108 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

it is in darkness or is blind. God is the light and the
true object of the soul, and when He does not shine upon
it, it is then in darkness, though its power of vision
may be most perfect. When the soul is in sin, or when
it occupies the desires with other things than God, it
is then blind. Though the light df God be not wanted
to it then, yet, being blind, it cannot see the light be
cause of its blindness, which is the practical ignorance
in which it lives. Before God enlightened the soul in
its transformation it was in darkness and ignorant of
His great goodness, as was the Wise Man before he was
enlightened, for he says, ' He enlightened my ignorance/ *
81. Speaking spiritually, it is one thing to be blind
and another to be in darkness. Blindness proceeds from
sin, but darkness does not necessarily involve sin, and
it happens in two ways. There is natural darkness
where the light of natural things shines not, and there
is supernatural darkness where there is no knowledge
of many supernatural things. Here the soul says with
regard to them both, that the understanding without
God abode in darkness. For until our Lord said, ' Let
light be/f darkness was upon the face of the deep of
the cavern of the soul's sense. The deeper the cavern

* Ecclus. li. 26. ' Ignorantias meas illuminavit.' This text is no
longer in the Vulgate. See Dark Night, bk. ii., ch. xii. 2.
f Genes, i. 3,

[STAN. III.] OF LOVE 10 9

when God shines not upon it, the deeper is the darkness
thereof. Thus it is impossible for it to lift up the eyes
to the divine light, yea the divine light is not even
thought of, because never seen or known to exist ; there
is therefore no desire for it. And the soul desires dark
ness rather than light, and so goes on from darkness to
darkness, led by darkness, for darkness can lead only to
darkness again.

82. David saith, ' day to day uttereth word and
night to night showeth knowledge/ * thus as the deep
of darkness calleth another deep, and the deep of light
another deep of light ; f like calling upon like, so the
light of grace which God had before given to the soul,
and by which He opened the eyes of it from the deep
to behold the divine light, and made it pleasing to Him
self, calls to another deep of grace, namely, the divine
transformation of the soul in God, wherein the eye of
sense is enlightened and rendered pleasing.

83. The eye was also blind in that it took pleasure
in other than God. The blindness of the higher and
rational sense is caused by the desire which, like a cloud
or a cataract, overlies and covers the eye of reason, so
that it shall not see what is before it. Thus, then, the
grandeur and magnificence of the divine beauty are
rendered invisible, so far as the pleasure of sense is

* Ps, xviii. 3. | Jfc. xli. 8.

HO THE LIVING FLAME ?[STAN. III.]

followed. For if we cover the eye with anything, how
ever trifling it may be, that is enough to obstruct the
vision of objects before us t>e they ever so large. Thus,
then, a single desire entertained by the soul suffices to
hinder the vision of all the divine grandeurs which are
higher than its desires and longings. Who can say how
impossible it is for the soul, subject to desires, to judge
of the things of God ? for he that would judge aright
of these must cast away all desires, because he cannot
judge aright while subject thereto ; for in that case he
will come to consider the things of God not to be God's,
and those things which are not God's to be the things of
God.

84. While this cloud and cataract cover the eye of
the judgment, nothing is visible except the cloud, some
times of one colour, sometimes of another, according to
circumstances, and men will take the cloud for God,
because they see nothing beside the cloud which over
shadows the sense, and God is not comprehended by
sense. Thus, desire and sensual satisfactions hinder
the knowledge of high things, as it is written, ' The
bewitching 6f vanity obscureth good things, and the
inconstancy of concupiscence perverteth the under
standing ' that is without malice.* Those persons,
therefore, who are not so spiritual as to be purified from

* Wisd. iv. 12.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE in

their desires and inclinations, but are still sensual,
believe those things to be important which are in truth
of no account in spirituality, being intimately connected
with sense ; they make no account of and despise the
deep things of the spirit, which are further removed
from sense, yea sometimes they look upon them as
folly, as we learn from St. Paul, ' The sensual man
perceiveth not these things that are of the Spirit of God :
for it is foolishness to him and he cannot understand.' *
85. The sensual man is he who still lives according
to the desires and inclinations of nature, and even
though these desires come occasionally into contact with
the things of the spirit, yet, if man cleaves to spiritual
things with his natural desires, they are still natural
desires only. The spirituality of the object is little to
the purpose, if the desire of it proceed from itself, having
its root and strength in nature. What ! you will say,
is it not a supernatural desire to desire God ? No, not
always ; but only then when the motive is supernatural,
and when the strength of the desire proceeds from God ;
that is a very different thing. When the desire comes
from thyself, so far as it relates to the manner thereof,
it is nothing more than natural. So, then, when thou
art attached to thy spiritual tastes, exerting thine own
natural desire, thou bringest a cataract over thine eye,

* i Cor. ii. 14.

112 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

thou art sensual, incapable of perceiving or judging what
is spiritual, for that transcends all natural sense and
desire.

86. If thou still doubtest, I have nothing further to
add except to bid thee read over again what I have
written, and that done perhaps the doubts will vanish.
What I have said is the substance of the truth, and I
dannot now enlarge upon it. The sense of the soul
hitherto in darkness without the divine light and blinded
by its desires, is now such that its deep caverns, be
cause of the divine union, ' with unwonted brightness
give light and warmth together to the Beloved/

' With unwonted brightness give light and
warmth together to the Beloved/

87. These caverns of the soul's faculties being now
in a wonderful way among the marvellous splendours of
the lamps which burn within them, being lighted and
burning in God, remit back to God in God, in addition
to their self-surrender to Him, those very splendours
which they receive from Him in loving bliss ; they also,
turning to God in God, being themselves lamps burning
in the brightness of the divine lamps, return to the
Beloved that very light and warmth of love which they
receive from Him. Now, indeed, they give back unto
Him, in the way they receive them, those very splendours
which He communicates, as crystal reflects the rays of

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 113

the sun ; but in a nobler manner, because of the inter
vention of the will.

' With unwonted brightness ; '

88. That is, strange and surpassing all imagination
and description. For the perfection of beauty wherein
the soul restores to God what it has received from Him
is now in conformity with that perfection wherewith the

<9

understanding — made one with that of God — received
the divine wisdom : and the perfection wherewith the
will restores to God in God that very goodness He gave
it — for it was given only to be restored — is in conformity
with that perfection wherein the will is united with
the will of God. In the same way, proportional to the
perfection of its knowledge of God's greatness, united
therewith, does the soul shine and give forth the warmth
of love. And according to the perfection of the other
divine attributes communicated to the soul, such as
strength, beauty, justice, are those perfections wherewith
the spiritual mind, now in enjoyment, gives back to the
Beloved in the Beloved the very light and warmth
which it is receiving from Him.

89. The soul now being one with God is itself God
by participation, and though not so perfectly as it will
be in the world to come, is still, as I have said, as God
in a shadow.* Thus, then, the soul, by reason of its

* See Spiritual Canticle, Stanza xxxix. 6, 7.
8

114 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

transformation, being a shadow of God, effects through
God in God what He effects within it Himself by Himself,
because the will of both is one. And as God is giving
Himself with a free and gracious will, so the soul also
with a will, the more free and the more generous the
, more it is united with God in God, is, as it were, giving
back to God — in that loving complacency with which it
regards the divine essence and perfections — God Himself.

90. This is a mystic and affective gift of the soul to
God, for then the soul seems in truth to have God for
its own possession, and that it possesses Him, as His
addpted child, by right of ownership, by the free gift
of Himself made unto it. The soul gives to the Beloved,
Who is God Himself, what He had given to it. Herein
it pays the whole debt, for the soul giveth as much
voluntarily with inestimable joy and delight, giving the
Holy Spirit as its own of its own free will, so that God
may be loved as He deserves to be.

91. Herein consists the inestimable joy of the soul,
for it sees that it offers to God what becomes Him in
His Infinite Being. Though it be true that the soul
cannot give God to God anew, because He is always
Himself in Himself, still it does so, perfectly and wisely,
giving all that He has given it in requital of His loVe ;
this is to give as it is given, and God is repaid by this
gift of the soul ; nothing less could repay Him. He

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 115

receives this gift of the soul as if it were its own, with
kindness and grace, in the sense I have explained ;
and in that gift He loves it anew, and gives Himself
freely to it, and the soul also loves Him anew. Thus,
there is in fact a mutual interchange of love between
the soul and God in the conformity of the union, and
in the matrimonial surrender, wherein the goods of
both, that is the divine essence, are possessed by both
together, in the voluntary giving up of each to the other.
God and the soul say, the one to the other, what the
Son of God said to the Father, ' All My things are Thine,
and Thine are Mine, and I am glorified in them/ * This
will be verified in the fruition of the next life without
intermission, and is verified in the state of union when
the soul's communion with God energises in an act of love.
92. The soul can offer such a gift, though far greater
than itself, just as he possesses many kingdoms and
nations as his own, though greater than he, can bestow
them upon whom he will. This is the soul's great
delight that it sees itself giving unto God more than
itself is worth, that it gives Himself to God so generously,
as if God were its own, in that divine light and warmth
of love which He Himself has given it. This is effected
in the life to come through the light of glory and of
love, and in this life by faith most enlightened and by
* St. John xvii. 10.

Il6 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. III.]

love most enkindled. Thus it is that the deep caverns
of sense, with unwonted brightness give light and heat
together to the Beloved. I say together, because the
communication of the Father and of the Son and of
the Holy Ghost in the soul is one ; they are the light
and the fire of love therein.

93. I must here observe briefly on the perfection of
beauty wherewith the soul makes this gift. In the act
of union, as the soul enjoys a certain image of fruition,
caused by the union of the understanding and will in
God, it makes this gift of God to God, and of itself to
Him, in most wonderful ways ; delighting itself therein,
arid constrained thereto. As to love, the soul stands
before God in strange beauty, as to the shadow of
fruition in the same way, and also as to praise and
gratitude.

94. As to the first, which is love, the soul has three
grand perfections of beauty. It loves God by means
of God. This is an admirable perfection, because, set
on fire by the Holy Ghost, and having the Holy Ghost
dwelling within it, it loves as the Father loves the Son,
as it is written, ' that the love wherewith Thou hast
loved Me, may be in them, and I in them/ * The second
perfection is that it loves God in God, for in this union
the soul is vehemently absorbed in the love of God,

* St. John xvii. 26.

[STAN, in.] OF LOVE 117

and God communicates Himself with great vehemence
to it. The third perfection of beauty is that the soul
now loves God for what He is ; for it loves Him not
merely because He is bountiful, good, and generous
to it, but much more earnestly, because He is all this
essentially in Himself.

95. There are also three perfections of beauty in that
shadow of fruition, marvellously great. The first is that
the soul enjoys God here, united with God Himself,
for as the understanding of the soul is one with wisdom
and goodness, and perceives so clearly — though not
perfectly as in the life to come — It delights greatly in
all these, clearly understood, as I said before.* The
second perfection of beauty is that the soul delights
itself in God alone without the admixture of any created
thing. The third is that it enjoys Him alone as He is,
without the admixture of any selfish feeling, or of any
created object.

96. There are also three principal perfections of
beauty in the praise of God which the soul offers to Him
in union. The first is, that the soul offers it as an act
of duty, because it recognises this as the end of its
creation ; as it is written, ' This people have I formed
for Myself, they shall show forth My praise.' f The
second is, that it praises Him for blessings received,

* § 4t supra. | Is. xliii. 21.

Il8 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. IV.]

and because of the joy it has in praising our Lord Who
is so great. The third is, that it praises Him for what
He is in Himself, for if the praises of God were unaccom
panied by any pleasure at all, still it would praise Him
because He is Who He is.

97. Gratitude also has three principal perfections.
The first is, thanksgiving for all natural and spiritual
blessings, and for all benefits received. The second is
the great delight of praising God, in the way of thanks
giving, for the soul is moved with great vehemence in
the act. The third is, that the soul gives thanks unto
God only because He is, which is much more efficacious
and more delightful.

STANZA IV

How gently and how lovingly

Thou liest awake in my bosom,

Where Thou secretly dwellest alone ;

And in thy sweet breathing,

Full of grace and glory,

How tenderly Thou fittest me with Thy love.

EXPLANATION

HERE the soul turns towards the Bridegroom in great
love, magnifying Him and giving Him thanks for two

[STAN. IV.] OF LOVE

marvellous graces which He sometimes effects within
the soul through its union with Himself. The soul, too,
observes on the way He produces them and on their
effects upon itself.

2. The first effect is the awakening of God in the
soul, and that in gentleness and love. The second is the
breathing of God in the soul, and that in grace and bliss
given in that breathing. The effect of this upon the soul
is to make it love Him sweetly and tenderly. The
stanza therefore may be paraphrased as follows : O how
gently and how lovingly dost Thou lie awake in the
depth and centre of my soul, where Thou in secret and
in silence alone, as its sole Lord, abidest, not only as
in Thine own house or in Thine own chamber, but also
as within my own bosom, in close and intimate union :
O how gently and how lovingly ! Sweet to me is Thy
breathing in that awakening, for it is full of grace and
glory. O with what tenderness dost Thou inspire me
with love of Thee ! The figure is borrowed from one
awaking from sleep, and drawing his breath, for the
soul in this state feels it to be so.

' How gently and how lovingly

Thou liest awake in my bosom.'
3. The awakenings of God in the soul are manifold,
and so many that were I to describe them I should never
end. This awakening, to which the soul refers here, the

120 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. IV.]

work of the Son of God, is, in my opinion, of the highest
kind, and the source of the greatest good to the soul.
This awakening is a movement of the Word in the depth
of the soul of such grandeur, authority and glory, and of
such profound sweetness, that all the balsams, all the
aromatic herbs and flowers of the world seem to be
mingled and shaken together for the production of that
sweetness : that all the kingdoms and dominions of
the world, all the powers and virtues of heaven are
moved ; this is not the whole, all the virtues, substance,
perfections and graces of all created things, shine forth
and make the same movement in unison together. For
as St. John saith, ' What was made in Him was life/ *
and in Him moves and lives ; as the Apostle says, ' In
Him we live and move and are/ f

4. The reason is this : when the grand Emperor
would reveal Himself to the soul, moving Himself in the
light He gives, and yet not moving in it — He, upon
whose shoulder is the principality,! that is, the three
worlds of heaven, earth, and hell, and all that is in them,
and Who sustains all by the word of His power § — then
all seem to move together. As when the earth moves,
all natural things upon it move with it ; so is it when the

* St. John i. 3. The Carmelite Breviary used by St. John of the
Cross till 1586 maintains the old punctuation : " Without Him was
made nothing. What was made in Him was life."

f Acts xvii. 28. I Is. ix. 6. § Heb. i. 3.

[STAN, iv.] OF LOVE 121

Prince moves, for He carries his court, not the court Him.
This, however, is an exceedingly imperfect illustration ;
for here not only all seem to move, but also to manifest
their being, their beauty, power, and loveliness, the root
of their duration and life in Him. There, indeed, the
soul sees how all creatures, higher and lower, live, con
tinue, and energise in Him, and understands the words
of the Wise Man, ' by me kings reign ... by me princes
rule, and the mighty decree justice.' *

5. Though it is true that the soul here sees that all
these things are distinct from God, in that they have a
created existence'; it understands them in Him with
their force, origin and strength, it knows also that God
in His own essence is, in an infinitely pre-eminent way,
all these things, so that it understands them better in
Him, their First Cause, than in themselves. This is the
great joy of this awakening, namely, to know creatures
in God, and not God in His creatures : this is to know
effects in their cause, and not cause by its effects.

6. This movement in the soul is wonderful, for God
Himself moves not. Without movement on the part of
God, the soul is renewed and moved by Him ; the divine
life and being and the harmony of creation are revealed
with marvellous newness, the cause assuming the de
signation of the effect resulting from it. If we regard

* Prov. viii. 15.

122 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. IV.]

the effect, we may say with the Wise Man that God moves,
' for wisdom is more moveable than all moveable things/
not because it moves itself but because it is the source
and principle of all motion, and ' permanently in herself,
she reneweth all things ; ' * this is the meaning of the
words, ' more moveable than all moveable things/

7. Thus, then, strictly speaking, in this movement
it is the soul that is moved and awakened, and the ex
pression ' awake ' is correct. God however being always,
as the soul sees Him, the mover, the ruler, and the giver
of life, power, graces, and gifts to all creatures, contains
all in Himself ; virtually, actually, and supremely. The
soul beholds what God is in Himself, and what He is
in creatures. So may we see, when the palace is thrown
open, in one glance, both the magnificence of him who
inhabits it, and what he is doing. This, according to
my understanding of it, is this awakenirig and vision
of the soul ; it is as if God drew back some of the many
veils and coverings that are before it, so that it might
see what He is ; then indeed — but still dimly, because
all the veils are not drawn back, that of faith remaining
—the divine face full of grace bursts through and shines,
which, as it moves all things by its power, appears
together with the effect it produces, and this is the
awakening of the soul.

* Wisd. vii. 24.

[STAN, iv.] OF LOVE 123

8. Though all that is good in man comes from God,
and though man of himself can do nothing that is good,
it may be said in truth, that our awakening is the awaken
ing of God, and our rising the rising of God. ' Arise,
why sleepest thou, O Lord ? ' * saith the Psalmist.
That is in effect to say, Raise us up and awake us, for
we are fallen and asleep. Thus then, because the soul
had fallen asleep, and could never rouse itself again,
and because it is God alone who can open its eyes, and
effect its awakening, this awakening is most properly
referred to God : ' Thou awakest in my bosom/

' Thou awakest in my bosom.'

9. Awake us, O Lord, and enlighten us, that we may
know and love the good things which Thou hast set
always before us, and we shall know that Thou art moved
to do us good, and hast had us in remembrance. It is
utterly impossible to describe what the soul, in this
awakening, knows and feels of the majesty of God, in
the inmost depths of its being, that is, its bosom. For
in the soul resounds an infinite power, with the voice
of a multitude of perfections, of thousands and thou
sands of virtues, wherein itself abiding and subsisting,
becomes ' terrible as an army set in array/ j sweet and
gracious in Him who comprehends in Himself all the
sweetness, and all the graces of His creation.

* Ps. xliii. 23. f Cant. vi. 3.

124 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. IV.]

10. But here comes the question, how can the soul
bear so vehement a communication while in the flesh,
when in truth it has not strength for it without fainting
away ? The mere sight of Assuerus on his throne, in his
royal robe, glittering with gold and precious stones, was
so terrible in the eyes of Esther, that she fainted through
fear, so awful was his face. ' I saw thee, my lord, as
an angel of God, and my heart was troubled, for fear
of thy glory/ * Glory oppresses him who beholds it,
if it does not glorify him. How much more then is the
soul now liable to faint away, when it beholds not an
angel but God Himself, the Lord of the angels, with
His face full of the beauty of all creatures, of terrible
power and glory, and the voice of the multitude of His
perfections. It is to this that Job referred when he
said, ' We have heard scarce a little drop of His word ;
who shall be able to behold the thunder of His great
ness ? ' f and again, ' I will not that He contend with me
with much strength, nor that He oppress me with the
weight of His greatness/ {

11. The soul, however, does not faint away and
tremble at this awakening so powerful and glorious.
There are two reasons for this : one is that it is now
in the state of perfection, and therefore the lower portion
of it is purified and conformed to the spirit, exempt from

* Esth. xv. 16. f J°b xxvi. 14. J Ib. xxiii. 6.

[STAN, iv.] OF LOVE 125

that pain and loss which spiritual communications
involve, when the sense and spirit are not purified
and disposed for the reception of them. 2. The second
and the principal reason is that referred to in the first
line of this stanza, namely, that God shows Himself
gentle and loving. For as He shows His greatness and
glory to the soul in order to comfort and exalt it, so
does He favour and strengthen it also, and sustain its
natural powers while manifesting His greatness gently
and lovingly. This is easy enough to Him, Who
with His right hand protected Moses that he might
behold His glory.*

12. Thus the soul feels God's love and gentleness to
be commensurate with His power, authority, and great
ness, for in Him these are all one. Its delight is there
fore vehement, and the protection it receives strong in
gentleness and love, so that itself being made strong
may be able without fainting away to sustain this vehe
ment joy. Esther, indeed, fainted away, but that was
because the king seemed unfavourable towards her, for
with ' burning eyes ' he ' showed the wrath of his breast.'f
but the moment he looked graciously upon her, touched
her with his sceptre and kissed her, she recovered herself,
for he had said to her, ' I am thy brother, fear not/

13. So is it with the soul in the presence of the King

* Exod. xxxiii. 22. f Esth. xv. 10.

126 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. IV.]

of kings, for the moment He shows Himself as its Bride
groom and Brother, all fear vanishes away. Because in
showing unto it, in gentleness and not in anger, the
strength of His power and the love of His goodness,
He communicates to it the strength and love of His
breast, ' leaping from His throne ' * to caress it, as the
bridegroom from his secret chamber, touching it with
the sceptre of His majesty, and as a brother embracing
it. There the royal robes and the fragrance thereof,
which are the marvellous attributes of God ; there the
splendour of gold which is charity, and the glittering of
the precious stones of supernatural knowledge ; and
there the face of the Word full of grace, strike the
queenly soul, so that, transformed in the virtues of the
King of heaven, it beholds itself a queen : with the
Psalmist, therefore, may it be said of it, and with truth,
' The queen stood on Thy right hand in gilded clothing,
surrounded with variety/ f And as all this passes in
the very depths of the soul, it is added immediately,
' Where Thou secretly dwellest alone/

' Where Thou secretly dwellest alone/

14. He is said to dwell secretly in the soul's bosom,

because, as I have said,| this sweet embracing takes

place in the inmost substance and powers of the soul.

We must keep in mind that God dwells in a secret and

* Esth. xv. u, 12. f Ps. xliv. 10. J Stanza i. 9; ii. 9.

[STAN, iv.] OF LOVE 127

hidden way in all souls, in their very substance, for if
He did not, they could not exist at all. This dwelling
of God is very different in different souls ; in some He
dwells alone, in others not ; in some He dwells con
tented, in others displeased ; in some as in His own
house, giving His orders, and ruling it ; in others, as a
stranger in a house not His own, where He is not per
mitted to command, or to do anything at all. Where
personal desires and self-will least abound, there is He
most alone, most contented, there He dwells as in His
own house, ruling and directing it, and the more secretly
He dwells, the more He is alone.

15. So then in that soul wherein no desire dwells,
and out of which all images and forms of created things
have been cast, the Beloved dwells most secretly Himself,
and the purer the soul and the greater its estrangement
from everything but God, the more intimate His con
verse and the closer His embrace. He dwells there then
in secret, for Satan cannot come near His dwelling place,
nor see the embracing ; nor can any understanding ex
plain it. But He is not hidden from the soul in the
state of perfection, for such a soul is ever conscious of
His presence. Only in these awakenings He seems to
awake Who before was asleep in the soul's bosom ; and
though it felt and enjoyed His presence, He seemed as
one sleeping within.

128 THE LIVING FLAME [STAN. IV.]

16. O how blessed is that soul which is ever con
scious of God reposing and resting within it. How
necessary it is for such a soul to flee from the matters
of this world, to live in great tranquillity, so that
nothing whatever shall disturb the Beloved ' at His
repose/ *

17. He is there as it were asleep in the embraces of
the soul, and the soul is, in general, conscious of His
presence, and, in general, delights exceedingly in it. If
He were always awake in the soul, the communications
of knowledge and love would be unceasing, and that
would be a state of glory. If He awakes but once, merely
opening His eyes, and affects the soul so profoundly,
what would become of it if He were continually awake
within it ?

18. He dwells secretly in other souls, those which
have not attained to this state of union, not indeed dis
pleased, though they are not yet perfectly disposed for
union : these souls in general are not conscious of His
presence, but only during the time of these sweet
awakenings, which however are not of the same kind
with those already described, neither indeed are they
to be compared with them. But the state of these souls
is not so secret from the devil, nor so far above the
reach of the understanding as the other, because the

* Cant. i. ii.

[STAN, iv.] OF LOVE 129

senses always furnish some indications of it by the
excitement into which they are thrown. The senses are
not perfectly annihilated before the union is complete,
and they manifest their power in some degree, because
they are not yet wholly spiritual. But in this awaken
ing of the Bride'groom in the perfect soul, all is perfect
because He effects it all Himself in the way I have
spoken of. In this awakening, as of one aroused from
sleep and drawing breath, the soul feels the breathing of
God, and therefore it says : ' In Thy sweet breathing/
' And in Thy sweet breathing, full of grace and glory,

how tenderly Thou fillest me with Thy love.'
19. I would not speak of this breathing of God,
neither do I wish to do so, because I am certain that I
cannot ; and indeed were I to speak of it, it would
seem then to be something less than what it is in reality.
This breathing of God is in the soul, in which in the
awakening of the deep knowledge of the Divinity, He
breathes the Holy Ghost accordirig to the measure of
that knowledge which absorbs it most profoundly, which
inspires it most tenderly with love according to what it
saw. This breathing is full of grace and glory, and
therefore the Holy Ghost fills the soul with goodness and
glory, whereby He inspires it with the love of Himself,
transcending all glory and all understanding. This is
the reason why I say nothing more.
9

INSTRUCTIONS AND PRECAUTIONS

INSTRUCTIONS AND PRECAUTIONS

TO BE CONTINUALLY OBSERVED BY HIM WHO
SEEKS TO BE A TRUE RELIGIOUS AND TO
ARRIVE QUICKLY AT GREAT PERFECTION

IF any religious desires to attain in a short time to holy
recollection, spiritual silence, detachment and poverty
of spirit — where the peaceful rest of the spirit is en
joyed, and union with God attained ; if he desires to be
delivered from all the hindrances which created things
put in his way, to be defended against all the wiles and
illusions of Satan, and to be protected against himself,
he must strictly practise the following instructions.

If he will do this, with ordinary attention, without
other efforts or other practices, at the same time care
fully observing the obligations of his state, he will
advance rapidly to great perfection, acquire all virtue
and attain unto holy peace.

All the evils to which the soul is subject proceed from
the three enemies already mentioned : the world, the
devil, and the flesh. If we can hide ourselves from
these we shall have no combats to fight. The world is

133

134 INSTRUCTIONS AND

less difficult, and the devil more difficult, to under
stand ; but the flesh is the most obstinate of all, and
the last to be overcome together with the ' old man/
If we do not conquer the three, we shall never perfectly
conquer one ; and if we conquer one, we shall also
conquer the others in the same proportion.

In order to escape perfectly from the evils which the
world inflicts, there are three things to be observed.

FIRST PRECAUTION

The first is, preserve an equal love and an equal
forgetfulness of all men whether relatives or not ; with
draw your affections from the former as well as from
the latter, yea even rather more from the former, on
account of the ties of blood, for the natural affection
which men feel for their kindred always subsists. You
must mortify this affection if you are to attain unto
spiritual perfection. Look u'pon your kindred as stran
gers, and you will thereby the more completely discharge
your duty to them ; for by not withdrawing your heart
from God on their account, you will fulfil your duties
towards them better by not giving to them those affec
tions which are due unto God.

Do not love one man more than another, for if you
do you will fall into error, He whom God loves most

PRECAUTIONS 135

is the most worthy of love, and you do not know who
he is. But if you strive to forget all men alike — as holy
recollection requires you to do — you will escape all
error, whether great or small. Do not think about
them ; have nothing to say to them either good or bad.
Avoid them as much as you possibly can. If you do
not observe this, as things go, you never will become
a good religious, you will never attain to holy recollec
tion, nor will you get rid of your imperfections. If you
will indulge yourself here, Satan will in some way or
other delude you, or you will delude yourself under the
pretence of good or evil.

If you will observe this direction you will be safe ;
and in no other way can you get rid of the imperfections
and escape the evils which result to your soul from
intercourse with men.

SECOND PRECAUTION

The second precaution against the world relates to
temporal goods. If you desire in earnest to escape the
evils which worldly goods occasion, and restrain your
excessive desires, you must hold all personal possession
in abhorrence, and cast from you every thought about
it. You must not be solicitous about what you eat or
drink or wear, or about any created thing whatever :

136 INSTRUCTIONS AND

you must not be 'solicitous for to-morrow/ but occupy
yourself with higher things — with the kingdom of God,
that is, fidelity unto Him — for all these things, as our
Lord says in the gospel, ' shall be added unto you.' *
He who takes care of the beasts of the field will not for
get you. If you do this you will attain unto silence,
and have peace in your senses.

THIRD PRECAUTION

The third precaution is most necessary, that you may
avoid all evil in your relation with the other religious of
the community. Many persons from not heeding this
have not only lost their peace of mind, but have fallen,
and fall daily, into great disorders and sin. Be especially
careful never to let your mind dwell upon, still less your
tongue to speak of, what is passing in the community,
its past or present state. Do not speak of any religious
in particular, do not discuss his condition or his con
versation, or his actions, however grave, either under
the cloak of zeal, or of remedying what seems amiss,
except only to him who of right should be spoken to,
and then at the fitting time. Never be scandalised or
surprised at what you see or hear, and preserve your
self in complete forgetfulness of all. If you lived among
the angels and gave heed to what was going on many

* St. Matth. vi. 33.

PRECAUTIONS 137

things would seem to you not to be good, because you
do not understand them.

Take warning from the example of Lot's wife who,
because she was disturbed at the destruction of Sodom,
turned back to behold it. God punished her for this,
and she ' was turned into a pillar of salt.' * This teaches
you that it is the will of God, even if you were living
among devils, you should so live as not to turn back
in thought to consider what they were doing, but forget
them utterly. You are to keep your soul wholly for
God, and not to suffer the thought of this or that to
disturb you.

Be sure of this, there is no lack of stumbling blocks
in religious houses, because there is no lack of devils
who are labouring to throw down the saints. God
permits this in order to try them and to prove them, and
if you be not on your guard, you will never become a
religious, do what you may, neither will you attain to
holy detachment and recollection, or avoid loss. If
you live otherwise, in spite of your zeal and good in
tentions, Satan will lay hold of you in one way or another,
and indeed you are already sufficiently in his power,
when your soul is allowed such distractions as these.
Remember those words of the apostle St. James, ' If
any man think himself to be religious, not bridling his

* Genes, xix. 26.

138 INSTRUCTIONS AND

tongue, this man's religion is vain.' * This is applic
able to the interior, quite as much as to the exterior,
tongue — to thoughts as well as words.

THREE PRECAUTIONS NECESSARY TO BE OBSERVED
IN ORDER TO BE DELIVERED FROM THE DEVIL
IN RELIGION

If you wish to escape from Satan in religion, you must
give heed to three things, without which you cannot be
in safety from his cunning. In the first place I would
have you take this general advice, which you should
never forget, namely, that it is the ordinary practice
of Satan to deceive those who are going on unto per
fection by an appearance of good : he does not tempt
them by what seems to be evil. He knows that they
will scarcely regard that which they know to be wrong.
You must therefore continually distrust that which
seems to be good, and especially when obedience does
not intervene. The remedy here is the direction of
one whom you ought to consult. Let this then be
the

FIRST PRECAUTION

Never set about anything, however good and charit
able it may seem, either to yourself or to any other,
* St. Jam. i. 26.

PRECAUTIONS 139

whether in the community or out of it, except under
obedience, unless you are bound to do it by the rule
of your order. If you do this you will acquire merit,
and be in security. You will be safe against yourself
and against evil ; you will also avoid evils of which you
are ignorant, and of which God will require an account
one day. If you do not observe this in little things as
well as in great, notwithstanding your apparent pro
gress, Satan will most certainly deceive you little or
much. Even if your whole error consist in your not
being guided in everything by obedience, you are plainly
wrong, because God wills obedience rather than sacrifice,*
and the actions of a religious are not his own, but those
of obedience, and if he withdraws them from the control
of obedience, he will have to give account of them as
lost.

SECOND PRECAUTION

The second precaution is a very necessary one, because
the devil interferes exceedingly in the matter to which
it refers. The observance of it will bring great gain
and profit, and the neglect great loss and ruin. Never
look upon your superior, be he who he may, otherwise
than if you were looking upon God, because he stands

* i Kings xv. 22.

140 INSTRUCTIONS AND

in His place. Keep a careful watch over yourself in
this matter, and do not reflect upon the character, ways,
or conversation, or habits of your superior. If you do,
you will injure yourself, and you will change your obedi
ence from divine into human, and you will be influenced
by what you see in your superior, and not by the
invisible God Whom you should obey in him. Your
obedience will be in vain, or the more barren the more
you are troubled by the untowardness, or the more you
are pleased by the favour, of your superior. I tell you
that a great many religious in the way of perfection are
ruined by not looking upon their superiors as they ought ;
their obedience is almost worthless in the eyes of God,
because influenced by human considerations. Unless
you force yourself therefore to be indifferent as to who
your superior may be, so far as your private feelings go,
you will never be spiritual, neither will you faithfully
observe your vows.

THIRD PRECAUTION

The third precaution against Satan is this : strive with
all your heart after humility in thought, word, and deed,
taking more pleasure in others than in yourself, giving
way in everything to others, and doing so as far
as you can from a sincere heart. In this way you will

PRECAUTIONS 14!

overcome evil with good, drive the devil away, and have
joy in your heart. Deal thus with those who are less
agreeable to you ; for be assured, if you do not, you will
never have true charity nor make progress in it. Be
always more ready to receive instruction from any one
than to give it, even to the least of your brethren.

THREE PRECAUTIONS TO BE OBSERVED BY THOSE
WHO WOULD CONQUER THEMSELVES, AND
MASTER THE CUNNING OF THE FLESH

FIRST PRECAUTION

If you wish to be delivered from the uneasiness and
imperfections of which the habits and conversation of
the religious may be the occasion and profit by every
thing that may happen, you must keep in mind that you
entered the community to be mortified and tried, and
that all those in authority in it are there, as in truth
they are, for that purpose. Some have to mortify you
by words, others by deeds, and others by what they
think of you ; in all this you are to submit yourself un
resisting as a statue to the polisher, the painter, and
the gilder of it. If you do not, you will never be able
to live as you ought with the religious in the monastery ;
you will not attain to hoJy peace nor will you escape
from much evil.

142 INSTRUCTIONS AND PRECAUTIONS

SECOND PRECAUTION

Never omit any practices, if they are such as befit you,
because they are disagreeable ; neither observe them
because they are pleasant, unless they be as necessary
as those which are not agreeable. Otherwise you will
find it impossible to acquire firmness, and conquer your
weakness.

THIRD PRECAUTION

In all your spiritual exercises never set your eyes upon
the sweetness of them and cling to it, but rather on that
in them which is unpleasant and troublesome, and accept
it. If you dQ, you will never destroy self-love, nor
acquire the love of God.

LETTERS

143

LETTERS
LETTER I

TO MOTHER CATHERINE OF JESUS, BAREFOOTED CARMEL
ITE AND COMPANION OF ST. TERESA OF JESUS *

JESUS

Be in your soul, my daughter Catherine. Although I
know not where you are, I write you these few lines,
trusting that our Mother will forward them to you if you
are not with her. And even if you are not with her,
comfort yourself with me, who am further away and
alone here. For since I was swallowed by that whale, j
and cast forth upon this distant shore, I have not been
counted worthy to see her or the saints who are down
there. God has done it for our good ; for loneliness is a
file, and to suffer darkness is the way to great light.
God grant that we may not walk in darkness. Oh !

* This nun was professed at Valladolid, December 13, 1572. St.
Teresa, who esteemed her highly, took her to Palencia, and afterwards
to Burgos, nominating her sub-prioress. She died at Soria, date
not on record.

f The prison of the Monastery of Toledo.

10 145

146 LETTERS

how many things would I fain say to you ! But I am
writing very much in the dark, fearing that you may not
receive this letter ; and therefore I break off with
out finishing it. Recommend me to God. I will say
no more from here, for I am weary.

Your servant in Christ,

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From BAEZA : the 6th of July, 1581.

LETTER II*

TO THE RELIGIOUS IN VEAS

JESUS be in your souls : My daughters are thinking
that I have lost sight of them because I do not write,
and that I have ceased to consider how easily they can
become saints and rejoice in the Bridegroom Whom they
love with great gladness and in strong security. I will
come to Veas, and you will see that I have not forgotten
you. We shall then see the treasures obtained by pure
love and on the pathways of everlasting life ; the
blessed progress you have made in Christ, Whose joy
and crown are His brides. This crown ought not to be

* This letter appeared for the first time, copied from the original
kept in the monastery of Pastrana, in the Life of the Saint, by Don
Manuel Nuftoz Garnica, Canon of Jaen (Jaen, 1875, p. 411).

LETTERS 147

rotting on the ground, but rather borne by the hands
of the seraphim, and placed with respect and reverence
on the head of our Lord.

When the heart is grovelling meanly on the ground
the crown rolls in the dust, and is trampled on in every
act of meanness. But when man shall ' come to a heart
that is high/ according to the words of David,* then
shall God be exalted with the crown of the heart of His
bride ; wherewith they crown Him in the day of the
joy of His coronation, for His delight is to be with the
children of men.f

The sources of the waters of interior joy are not on
the earth ; the mouth of desire must be opened heaven
wards, utterly empty ; and in order that the mouth of
desire may be neither closed nor vitiated by the taste
of anything, it should be kept perfectly empty and
open before Him Who says, ' dilate thy mouth and I will
fill it. 'I For so it is, he who seeks for satisfaction in
anything is not keeping himself in a state of emptiness
that God may fill him with this unspeakable joy ; his
hands are encumbered, and he cannot lay hold of that
which God is giving him ; as he went to God, so he re
turned. God save us from these miserable embarrass
ments by which a freedom so sweet and so delightful
is disturbed. Serve God, my daughters beloved in

* Ps. Ixiii. 7. f Prov. viii. 31. J Ps. Ixxx. n.

148 LETTERS

Christ, following Him on the road of mortification in
all patience and in all silence, with all your soul bent
on suffering, having made yourselves executioners of
your own will. Mortify yourselves, and if there be
anything still living that hinders the interior resurrection
of the spirit let it die in your souls. Amen.
Your servant,

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From MALAGA : November 18, 1586.

LETTER III

TO THE RELIGIOUS OF VEAS

He gives them some spiritual advice, full of heavenly instruction, and
worthy of perpetual remembrance

JESUS, MARY

Be in your souls, my daughters in Christ.

Your letter greatly consoled me, and may our Lord
reward you for it. It was not from want of will that I
have refrained from writing to you, for truly do I wish
you all good ; but because it seemed to me that enough
had been said already to effect all that was needful, and
that what is wanting, if indeed anything be wanting, is

LETTERS 149

not writing or speaking — whereof ordinarily there is
more than enough — but silence and work. For whereas
speaking distracts, silence and action collect the thoughts,
and strengthen the spirit. As soon therefore as a per
son understands what has been said to him for his good,
he has no further need to hear or to discuss ; but to
set himself in earnest to practise what he has learnt
with silence and attention, in humility, charity, and
contempt of self ; not turning aside incessantly to seek
after novelties which serve only to satisfy the desire in
outward things — failing however to satisfy it really—
and to leave it weak and empty, devoid of interior virtue.
The result is unprofitable in every way ; for a man
who, before he has digested his last meal, takes another
—the natural heat being wasted upon both — cannot
convert all this food into the substance of his body, and

sickness follows. It is most necessary, my daughters,

•

to know how to avoid the devil and our own sensuality,
for if we do not we shall find ourselves to be very un
profitable servants, very far away from the virtues of
Christ ; and in the end we shall awake from our sleep
to find our toil and labour to have been the reverse of
what they were. The lamp which we believed to be
alight will be found extinguished, because the breath
whereby we thought to kindle it, served perhaps to put
it out. There are no means to avoid this, and pre-

150 LETTERS

serve spirituality, better than suffering, doing good
works, silence, custody of the senses, the practice of, and
the inclination to solitude, forgetfulness of creatures,
and of all that is going on, even if the world were to
come to an end. Never fail, whatever may befall you
be it good or evil, to keep your heart quiet and calm
in the tenderness of love, that it may suffer in all cir
cumstances. For so momentous a thing is perfection,
and so priceless is spiritual joy, and may God grant
that this may be enough ; for it is impossible to make
progress but by the way of good works and suffering
courageously, always in silence. I have heard, my
daughters, that the soul which is ready to talk and converse
with creatures, is not very ready to converse with God ;
for if it were, it would be at once drawn forcibly inwards,
be silent and avoid all conversation ; for God would that
the soul should delight in Him rather than in any crea
ture, however excellent and profitable it may be. I com
mend myself to your charitable prayers ; and do you
rest assured that, scant as my charity is, it is so bound
up in you that I never forget those to whom I owe so
much in our Lord. May He be with tis all. Amen.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From GRANADA : the 22nd of Nov., 1587.

LETTERS 151

LETTER IV

TO MOTHER ELEANORA BAPTIST, PRIORESS OF THE
CONVENT OF VEAS *

The blessed father consoles her under an affliction

JESUS

Be in your soul. Think not, my daughter in Christ,
that I am not sorry for you in your troubles, and for
those who share them with you ; but when I remember
that God has called you to an apostolic life, which is a
life of contempt, I am comforted, for He is leading you
on that road. God will have a religious to be a religious,
that he shall be dead to all things, and all things dead
to him ; because He will be his riches, his consolation,
his glory, and his bliss. God has conferred a great
grace upon your reverence, for now, forgetting all
things, you may rejoice in Him alone, caring nothing,

* Eleanora Bautista de Jesus (Perez de Castillejo y Bermudez),
born at Alcarraz, entered the convent of Veas, where she made her
profession, January 6, 1578. She assisted Ven. Anne of Jesus in the
foundation of the convent of Granada, and afterwards became prioress
of Veas, and later on of Valencia, where she excelled in the art of train
ing nuns in the religious life. She did not go to Madrid, but died at
Valencia in 1604.

152 LETTERS

in your love of God, for what may come upon you, since
you are no longer your own, but His. Let me know
whether your departure for Madrid is certain, and
whether the mother prioress is coming. I commend
myself especially to my daughters Magdalene and Ana
and to all the rest, not having leisure to write to them.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From GRANADA : the 8th of February^ 1588.

LETTER V

TO MOTHER ANNE OF ST. ALBERT, PRIORESS OF THE
BAREFOOTED CARMELITES OF CARAVACA *

He makes known to her by a prophetical inspiration the state of her
soul, and delivers her from scruples

JESUS

Be in your soul. How long, my daughter, must you
be carried in the arms of others ? I long to see in you
a great detachment of spirit, and such a freedom from

* Anne of St. Albert (de Salcedo), born at Malagon, was one of the
first nuns of that convent, having made her profession in 1569. She
accompanied St. Teresa to Seville, being chosen for the foundation
of Caravaca, which was to be made from there. She died in 1624.

LETTERS 153

any dependence upon creatures, that all the powers of
hell may be unable to disturb you. What useless tears
have you been shedding in these last days : How much
precious time, think you, have these scruples caused you
to throw away ? If you would communicate your
troubles to me, go straight to that spotless mirror of the
Eternal Father, His only Begotten Son ; for there do I
daily behold your soul, and without doubt you will
come away consoled, and have no more need to beg at
the door of poor people.

Your servant in Christ,

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From GRANADA.

LETTER VI

TO THE SAME RELIGIOUS
On the same subject

JESUS

Be in your soul, very dear daughter in Christ. Though
you say nothing to me, I will say something to you ; let
those vain fears which make the spirit cowardly find no
place in your soul. Leave to our Lord that which He
has given and daily gives ; you seem to measure God by

154 LETTERS

the measure of your own capacity ; but that must not be
so. Prepare yourself to receive a great grace.
Your servant in Christ,

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From GRANADA.

LETTER VII

TO THE SAME RELIGIOUS

The holy father informs her of the foundation of the monastery at Cordova,
and of the removal of the nuns in Seville

JESUS

Be in your soul. I wrote to you in haste when I left
Granada for the foundation at Cordova. I have since
received your letter there, and those of the gentlemen
who went to Madrid, thinking that they should find me
at the council. You must know, however, that it never
met, for we have been waiting to finish these visitations
and foundations, while our Lord is now making such
haste in the matter, that we are without strength to
follow Him. The friars have been received at Cordova
with the greatest joy and solemnity on the part of the
whole city. No Order has been better received there.
All the clergy and confraternities of Cordova assembled
on the occasion, and there was a solemn procession of

LETTERS 155

the Most Holy Sacrament from the Cathedral Church —
all the streets being decorated — with great concourse of
people, as on the feast of Corpus Christi.

This took place on the Sunday after Ascension day,
and the bishop preached, praising us much in his sermon.
The house is in the best part of the city, and belongs to
the Cathedral. I am now busied at Seville with the
removal of our nuns, who have bought some very con
siderable houses ; though they cost about 14,000 ducats,
they are worth more than 20,000. They are now
established there. My lord Cardinal is to place the
Blessed Sacrament there with great solemnity on the
feast of St. Barnabas. Before my departure I intend
to establish another house of friars here, so that there
will be two of our Order in Seville. Before the feast of
St. John I shall set forth for Ecija, where, with the
divine blessing, we shall found another ; thence to
Malaga, and then to the council. I wish I had authority
to make this foundation, as I had for the others. I do
not expect much from what is going on ; but I trust
in God that the foundation will be made, and in the
council I will do what I can ; and you may say so to
these gentlemen to whom I am writing.

Send me the little book of the Stanzas of the Bride

which I think Sister * of the Mother of God will by

* Probably Anne of the Mother of God,

156 LETTERS

this time have copied. Remember me very specially to
senor Gonzalo Mufioz, I do not write for fear of being
troublesome to him, and because your reverence will
make known to him that which I have here related to
you,

Dearest daughter in Christ,

Your servant,
FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From SEVILLE : June, 1586.

LETTER VIII

TO F. AMBROSE MARIANO OF ST. BENEDICT, PRIOR OF

MADRID *

Containing wholesome instructions for the training of novices

JESUS

Be in the soul of your reverence. Our need of religious
is very great, as your reverence knows, because of the
many foundations. It is therefore necessary that your
reverence should have patience until father Michael leave
this place to wait at Pastrana for the father provincial ;

* St. Teresa speaks of this remarkable man in Foundations, ch.
xvii. 6, seqq. After her death he was commissioned to found a convent
of friars at Lisbon (1582), and later on at Madrid (1586), where he
died in 1594.

LETTERS 157

the foundation of the convent of Molina being nearly
completed. It has seemed good to the fathers also to
assign to your reverence a sub-prior, and have made
choice of father Angelus, believing that he will agree
perfectly with the prior, which is most necessary in a
monastery. Your reverence will give to each of these
his letters patent, and will not fail to take care that no
priest meddle or converse with the novices, for as your
reverence knows, nothing is more injurious to them than
to pass through many hands, or that strangers should
frequent the novices. Since, however, you have so many
under your care, it is reasonable that you should help
and relieve father Angelus. Give him authority, as he
is already sub-prior, that he may be more considered in
the house.

It does not seem that father Michael is so much needed
here, and he might do greater service to the order else
where. Of father Gratian * nothing new, except that
father Antony f is now here.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From SEGOVIA : Nov. 9, 1588.

[St. John was now the president of the consultors in the absence of
Father Nicholas Doria, and therefore wrote this letter as a member
of the council.]

* Fr. Jerome Gratian, the friend both of St. Teresa and St. John
of the Cross.

f Fr. Antonio de Heredia (Antony of Jesus), with St. John the
founder of the order of Discalced friars.

158 LETTERS

LETTER IX

TO A YOUNG LADY AT MADRID, WHO DESIRED TO BECOME A
BAREFOOTED CARMELITE, AND WHO WAS AFTERWARDS
PROFESSED IN A CONVENT AT ARENAS, IN NEW CASTILE,
AFTERWARDS TRANSFERRED TO GUADALAJARA

JESUS

Be in your soul. Your messenger came at a time when
I was unable to reply before he left the place, and now,
on his return, he is waiting for my letter. May God
ever grant you, my daughter, His holy grace, that
always and in all things you may be wholly occupied
with His holy love ; for to this are you bound, and for
this only He created and redeemed you. On the three
questions there is much to say, more than time and a
letter will allow. I will speak of three other points
which may be profitable to you.

As to sins, God so hates them that He submitted to
die ; it is expedient, in order utterly to root them out,
and never to commit any, to have as little intercourse
with people as possible, avoiding them, and never speak
ing an unnecessary word on any subject — for all con
versation, beyond what necessity or reason absolutely
requires, has never done good to any man, however holy
— and at the same time keeping the law of God with
great exactness and love.

LETTERS 159

As to the Passion of our Lord, chastise your body
with discretion, hate and mortify yourself, and never in
anything follow your own will and your own inclination,
for that was the cause of His death and passion. What
ever you may do, do it all under the advice of your
director. As to the third, which is glory ; in order to
meditate well upon it, and love it, you must hold all the
riches of the world and all its pleasures to be mere dross,
and vanity, and weariness, as, in truth, they are ; and
make no account of anything, however great and precious
it may be, but only to be well with God ; because the
best things here below, when compared with the eternal
good for which God created us, are vile and bitter ; and
though the bitterness and deformity be but for a moment,
they shall abide for ever in the soul which esteems them.

I have not forgotten your matter ; but at present,
much as I desire it, nothing can be done. Recommend
it earnestly to our Lord, and take our Lady and St.
Joseph as your advocates with Him.

Remember me especially to your mother, to whom,
as well as to yourself, this letter is addressed ; and do
you both pray for me, and ask your friends in their
charity to do the same. May God give you His Spirit.

Fr. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From SEGOVIA : February, 1589.

l6o LETTERS

LETTER X

TO A SPIRITUAL SON IN RELIGION, TEACHING HIM HOW
TO EMPLOY HIS WHOLE WILL IN GOD, WITHDRAWING
IT FROM PLEASURE AND JOY IN CREATED THINGS

THE peace of JESUS CHRIST, my son, be ever in your
soul.

I have received the letter of your reverence, wherein
you tell me of the great desire you have, given you by
our Lord, to occupy your will with Him alone, loving
Him above all things, and wherein you also ask me for
some directions how to obtain your end. I rejoice that
God has given you such holy desires, and I shall rejoice
the more at their fulfilment. Remember, then, that all
pleasure, joy, and affections come into the soul through
the will and the desire of those things which seem good,
befitting, and pleasurable, because they seem to be
pleasing and precious; now the affections of the will
are drawn to them, and the will hopes for them, de
lights in them when it possesses them, and dreads the
loss of them. The soul, therefore, by reason of these
affections and joys, is disturbed and disquieted.

In order then to annihilate and mortify the desire of
sensible pleasure in things that are not God, your rever
ence will observe, that everything in which the will

LETTERS l6l

can have a distinct joy is sweet and delectable, because
pleasant in its eyes ; but there is no delectable thing in
which it can have joy and delight in God, for God is not
cognisable by the apprehensions of the other faculties,
and therefore not by the pleasure and desires of the will.
In this life, as the soul cannot taste of God essentially,
so all the sweetness and delight of which it is capable,
and, however great they may be, cannot be God, for
whatever the will takes pleasure in and desires as a
distinct thing, it desires so far as it knows it to be that
which it longs for. For as the will has never tasted of
God, nor ever known Him under any apprehension of
the desire, and therefore comprehends Him not, so by
its taste it can never know Him ; its very being, desire,
and taste can never desire God, because He is above and
beyond all its powers.

It is, therefore, plain that no distinct object whatever
that pleases the will can be God ; and for that reason,
if it is to be united with Him, it must empty itself, cast
away every disorderly affection of the desire, every
satisfaction it may distinctly have, high and low, temporal
and spiritual, so that, purified and cleansed from all
unruly satisfactions, joys, and desires, it may be wholly
occupied, with all its affections, in loving God. For
if the will can in any way comprehend God and be

united with Him, it cannot be through any capacity of
ii

1 62 LETTERS

the desire, but only by love ; and as all delight, sweet
ness, and joy, of which the will is sensible, is not love,
it follows that none of these pleasing impressions can
be the adequate means of uniting the will to God ; the
means are an act of the will. And because an act of
the will is quite distinct from feeling ; it is by an act
that the will is united with God, and rests in Him ; that
act is love. This union is never wrought by feeling, or
exertions of the desire, for these remain in the soul as
aims and ends. It is only as motives of love that feelings
can be of service, if the will is bent on going onwards,
and for nothing else.

These sweet impressions of themselves do not lead the
soul to God, but rather cause it to rest upon them : by
an act of the will, that is, by loving God, the soul puts
its whole affection, joy, delight, contentment, and love
in Him only, casting everything else aside, and loving
Him above all things.

For this reason, then, if any one is moved to love God
by that sweetness he feels, he casts that sweetness away
from him, and fixes his love upon God, Whom he does
not feel ; but if he allowed himself to rest in that sweet
ness and delight which he feels, dwelling upon them with
satisfaction, that would be to love the creature, and that
which is of it, and to make the motive an end, and the
act of the will would be vitiated ; for as God is incompre-

LETTERS 163

hensible and unapproachable, the will, in order to direct
its act of love unto God, must not direct it to that which
is tangible and capable of being reached by the desire,
but must direct it to that which it cannot comprehend
nor reach thereby. In this way the will loves that which
is certain and true, according to the spirit of the faith,
in emptiness and darkness as to its own feelings, above,
all that it can understand by the operations of the under
standing ; its faith and love transcend all that it can
comprehend.

He, then, is very unwise, who, when sweetness and
spiritual delight fail him, thinks for that reason that God
has abandoned him, and when he finds them again,
rejoices and is glad, thinking that he has in that way
come to possess God.

More unwise still is he who goes about seeking for
sweetness in God, rejoices in it, and dwells upon it ; for
in so doing, he is not seeking after God with the will
grounded in the emptiness of faith and charity, but only
in spiritual sweetness and delight, which is a created
thing, following herein his own will and fond pleasure.
Such an one does not love God purely above all things,
which is to direct the whole strength of the will to Him —
for by clinging to and resting on the creature by desire,
the will does not ascend upwards beyond it to God Who
js unapproachable. It is impossible for the will to attain

164 LETTERS

to the sweetness and delight of the divine union, to feel
the sweet and loving embraces of God, otherwise than in
detachment, in refusing to the desire every pleasure in
the things of heaven and earth, for that is the meaning
of David, when he said : ' Open thy mouth wide, and I
will fill it.1 * Now, in this place ' the mouth ' of the will
is the desire: the mouth opens, when not filled' or
hindered with the morsels of its own satisfactions : for
when the desire is bent upon anything, it is then re
strained, because out of God everything is a restraint.

The soul, then, that is to advance straightway unto God,
and to be united with Him, must keep the mouth of the
will open, but only for God Himself, in detachment from
every morsel of desire, in order that God may fill it with
His own love and sweetness : it must hunger and thirst
after God alone, seeking its satisfaction in nothing else,
seeing that in this life it cannot taste Him as He is.
That which may be tasted here, if there be a desire for
it, hinders the taste of God.

This is what the prophet Isaias teaches when he says :
' All you that thirst come to the waters/ f He bids all
who thirst for God only to come to the fulness of the
divine waters of union with Him : namely, those who
have not the money of desire. It is most expedient then,
for your reverence, if you wish to have great peace in

* Ps. Ixxx. ii. f Is. lv. i.

LETTERS 165

your soul and to reach perfection, to give up your whole
will to God, that it may be united to Him, and utterly
detached from the mean and vile occupations of earth.
May His Majesty make you as spiritual and as holy as
I desire.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

SEGOVIA, April 14, 1589.

LETTER XI

TO MOTHER ELEONOR OF ST. GABRIEL, A BAREFOOTED
CARMELITE OF SEVILLE *

The holy father and the council command her to accept the office of sub-
prioress in the newly founded convent at Cordova

JESUS

Be in your soul, my daughter in Christ. Your letter
was very welcome to me, and I thank God that He has
been pleased to make use of you in this foundation,
which His Majesty has made for your greater profit ; for

* Born at Ciudad Real, Eleonor de San Gabriel (Mena) made pro
fession at Malagon, June 10, 1571. St. Teresa took her to Seville and
made her infirmarian ; later on she became sub-prioress, which office
was also entrusted to her in the newly founded convent at Cordova.
She had a great desire to accompany the nuns who were chosen for
the foundation of a convent at Paris, but in this she was not success-
f ul, f or she was called back to Seville, where she died, date unknown.

l66 LETTERS

the more He gives, the more does He enlarge our desires,
till He leaves us empty that He may fill us with blessings.
You shall be well repaid for those which, for the love
of your sisters, you forgo in Seville ; for the immense
benefits of God can only be received and contained by
empty and solitary hearts ; and, therefore, our Lord
will have you to be alone, and He really wills it, for
He desires to be your only companion. Your reverence
must therefore apply your mind to Him alone, and in
Him alone content yourself, that in Him you may find
all consolation, for if the soul were in heaven, but the
will without love, that soul would be still unsatisfied.
So also though God be ever with us, if our heart be
attached to other things and not fixed on Him alone.

I well believe that those in Seville will be very lonely
without your reverence. But, perhaps, you have al
ready done all the good there which you were intended
to do, and God wills that you should now work here,
for this is one of our principal foundations. To this end
1 pray your reverence to afford all the assistance you can
to the mother prioress, with great love and union of
heart in all things. I know that I need not say this to
you, for you have been so long in the order and so ex
perienced that you know all that is usually done in
these foundations. For this reason, we chose your
reverence. There are religious enough here, but not

LETTERS 167

fitted for this work. Be pleased to remember me par
ticularly to sister Mary of the Visitation, and to sister
Juana of St. Gabriel, to whom I return thanks for her
letter. May God give your reverence His Holy Spirit.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From SEGOVIA : the 8th of July, 1589.

LETTER XII

TO MOTHER MARY OF JESUS, PRIORESS OF THE BARE
FOOTED CARMELITES OF CORDOVA *

Containing useful lessons for religious engaged in the foundation of a
new convent, of which they are to be the first stones

JESUS

Be in your soul. You are bound to correspond to the
grace of our Lord in proportion to the welcome which
you have received, the tidings of which have rejoiced
my heart. It was His will that you should enter so
poor a dwelling, under the heat of such a burning sun,
that you might give edification, and manifest your pro
fession, which is the imitation of Christ in detachment,

* Maria de Jesus (de Sandoval), a nun of Veas, professed in 1576,
intimately befriended with St. John of the Cross, sub- prioress at
Malaga (1585), foundress and first prioress of Cordova (1589), where
she died on August 10, 1604.

l68 LETTERS

in order that those who come to you hereafter may
learn in what spirit they must come. I send you all
necessary faculties. Be very careful whom you receive
at first, because such will be those who follow ; and
strive to preserve the spirit of poverty and contempt
of all earthly things, being content with God alone :
otherwise be assured that you will fall into a thousand
temporal and spiritual necessities, you will never, and
can never, experience greater necessities than those to
which you voluntarily subject your heart : for the poor
in spirit is more content and joyful when in want ;
having made very nothingness his all, and having found
therein fulness and freedom in all things.

O blessed nothingness, and blessed hiddenness of
heart, which is of such surpassing virtue as to render
all things subject to the soul that will have nothing
subject to itself, and casting away all care to burn more
and more intensely with love !

Salute all the sisters in our Lord. Tell them that as
our Lord has chosen them for the first stones of this
building, they must consider well what they ought to be,
for upon them, as on a strong foundation, those who
follow after them are to be built. Let them profit by
the first fruits of the spirit which God gives in the be
ginning to make a new start on the way of perfection,
in all humility and detachment, inward and outward, not

LETTERS 169

in a childish mind, but with a strong will in mortifica
tion and penance. Let them see that Christ costs them
something, and not be like those who seek their own
ease, and look for consolation either in God or out of
Him. But let them suffer either in Him or out of Him,
by silence, hope, and loving remembrance. Make this
known to Gabriela and the sisters at Malaga. To the
others I have already written. The grace of God be
with you. Amen.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From SEGOVIA : the 28th of July, 1589.

LETTER XIII

TO MOTHER MAGDALEN OF THE HOLY GHOST, A RELI
GIOUS OF THE SAME CONVENT OF CORDOVA *

JESUS

Be in your soul, my daughter in Christ. The good
resolutions expressed in your letter make me glad. I
bless God, who provides for all things ! for they will be
greatly needed in the beginnings of foundations that
you may bear poverty, straitness, heat, and labours of

* Magdalen of the Holy Ghost (Rodriguez y Alarcon), a nun of
Veas, who had made her profession August 16, 1577, was chosen for the
foundation of Cordova, where she died in advanced age. See Spiritual
Canticle, Introd. p. xvi.

170 LETTERS

all kinds, in such a manner that none may perceive
whether or not all these things are grievous to you. Con
sider that for such beginnings God will not have delicate
and feeble souls, far less such as are lovers of them
selves ; and to this end His Majesty helps us more in
our beginnings, that they, with moderate diligence, may
advance in all virtues. It is assuredly a great grace,
and a sign of the divine favour, that, passing by others,
He has led you hither. And though the abandonment
may have been painful, it is nothing ; for you must in
any case have shortly left it all. In order to have God
in all things, we must have nothing at all ; for how
can the heart, given to one, be given at all to another ?

I say this also to sister Juana, and beg you to pray
to God for me. May He be in your heart. Amen.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From SEGOVIA : the 28th of July, 1589.

LETTER XIV

TO DONA JUANA DE PEDRA£A, A PENITENT OF THE
HOLY FATHER IN GRANADA

JESUS

Be in your soul. I give Him thanks that He has given
me the grace not to forget the poor, and not to take

LETTERS 171

my ease, as you say. It would pain me much if I
thought you believe what you say. It would be an evil
return after so much kindness, when I deserve none.
All that is wanting now is that I should forget you ;
but consider how that is to be forgotten which is ever
present to the soul. But as you are now in the dark
ness and emptiness of spiritual poverty, you think that
all things and all men are failing you ; nor is this won
derful, since you think God Himself fails you. But
nothing fails you, nor have you need of any counsel,
there is no reason why you should, you will learn nothing,
you will find none, for all is groundless suspicion. He
who desires nothing but God does not walk in darkness,
however blind and poor he may think himself to be ;
and he who indulges in no presumptuous thoughts, nor
seeks his own satisfaction either in God or in creatures,
who does not serve his own will in anything, is in no
danger of falling, or in any need of counsel.

You are in the right path, my daughter ; be resigned,
and be glad. What ! are you to undertake to guide
yourself ? You would do it well, no doubt. You have
never been in a better state than now, for you have
never been so humble, so submissive ; you have never
held yourself, and the things of the world, in greater
contempt ; you have never seen yourself to be so bad,
nor God to be so good ; you have never served Him so

172 LETTERS

purely and disinterestedly as now. You are not running
after the imperfections of your own will, seeking self,
as perhaps you once did. What do you mean ? What
manner of life and conversation do you propose to your
self in this world ? In what do you imagine the service
of God to consist, except in abstaining from evil, keeping
His commandments, and doing His work as well as we
can. When you do this, what need have you to seek
here and there for other instructions, other lights, other
consolations, in which ordinarily lurk many snares and
dangers to the soul, which is deceived and deluded by
its appetites and perceptions : its very faculties lead
it astray.

It is a great grace of God when He so darkens and
impoverishes the soul that the senses cannot deceive it.
And that it may not go astray, it has nothing to do but
to walk in the beaten path of the law of God and of the
Church, living solely by faith, dim and true, in certain
hope and perfect charity, looking for all its blessings in
heaven ; living here as pilgrims, beggars, exiles, orphans,
desolate, possessing nothing, and looking for everything
above.

Rejoice, then, and put your trust in God, Who has
given you these tokens ; you CAN do so ; nay, you ought
to do so. If not, you must not be surprised if He should
be angry when He finds you so dull, seeing that He has

LETTERS 173

placed you in so safe a path, and led you to so secure a
haven. Desire nothing but this, and bend your soul to
it, which is in a good and safe condition, and go to com
munion as usual. Go to confession when you have some
definite matter, and speak of that only. When you
have anything to say to me write, and that promptly
and frequently, which you can always do through dona
Ana, if not through the nuns.

I have been somewhat unwell, but am now much
better. Fr. John Evangelist,* however, is still suffer
ing. Recommend him to God, and me also, my daughter
in our Lord.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From SEGOVIA : Oct. i2th, 1589.

LETTER XV

TO MOTHER MARY OF JESUS, PRIORESS OF CORDOVA f

Containing much profitable advice to those whose office is to govern and
provide for a community

JESUS

Be in your soul. My daughter in Christ, the cause of
my not having written to you for so long a time has been

* Fr. John Evangelist, formerly procurator of Granada during St.
John's .priorship.

f See note to Letter XII.

174 LETTERS

rather the remote position of Segovia than any want oi
will. For my good will has ever been, and I trust in
God shall ever be, the same towards you. I feel for
you in all your trials. But I would not have you take
too much thought concerning the temporal provision for
your house, lest God should forget it ; and you should
fall into great temporal and spiritual distress ; for it is
our over-anxious solicitude which brings us to want.
Cast all your care, my daughter, upon God, and He will
nourish you : for He Who has given and will give the
greater, will not fail to give the less.

Take care that the desire to be in want and poor never
fails you, for that instant your courage will fail, and
your virtues will become weak. For if in time past you
have desired poverty, now that you are in authority you
should desire it still more, and love it ; for the house
must be ruled and furnished with virtues and heavenly
desires, rather than by carefulness and arrangements
for temporal and earthly things : inasmuch as our Lord
hath bidden us to take no thought for our food, nor for
our raiment, nor for to-morrow. What you have to do
is to train your own soul and the souls of your nuns in
all perfection in religion, in union with God, and rejoicing
in Him alone ; and I will assure you of the rest. It
seems to me very diffcult to imagine that the other
houses will come to your help, when you are settled in

LETTERS 175

so good a position, and have such excellent nuns. Never
theless, if I have an opportunity, I will not fail to do
what I can for you.

I wish much consolation to the mother sub-prioress,
and I trust in our Lord that He will give it, and
strengthen her to bear her pilgrimage and exile cheer
fully for love of Him. I am writing to her.

Many salutations in our Sovereign Good, to my
daughters Magdalen of St. Gabriel, Mary of St. Paul,*
Mary of the Visitation, and Mary of St. Francis.

May He be ever with your spirit, my daughter. Amen.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From MADRID : the 2oth of June, 1590.

LETTER XVI

TO MOTHER ANNE OF JESUS, A BAREFOOTED CARMELITE

OF THE CONVENT OF SEGOVIA f
He consoles her on his not having been chosen superior

JESUS

Be in your soul. I thank you very much for your letter
and I am more 3'our debtor than I was before. Though

* Nun of Caravaca, professed in 1579, afterwards sent to the foun
dation of Malaga, and, in 1589, to that of Cordova, where she twice
filled the office of prioress.

| Ana de Jimena, foundress of the convent of Segovia, where she took
the habit and made her profession, July 2, 1575 ; being later on elected
prioress. She died, in 1609, at the age of eighty.

176 LETTERS

things have not come to pass as you desired, you ought
to be glad and give thanks to God ; His Majesty has so
ordained, and it is best for all. It remains only that we
submit our will, that we may see it in its true light. For
when things befall us that we do not like, they seem to
us evil and contrary, be they never so good and profit
able to our souls. But in this case there is plainly no
evil either to me or to any other. To me, indeed, it is
most favourable ; for being free and without the care of
souls, I may, by God's help, if I like, enjoy peace and
solitude, and the blessed fruit of forgetfulness of self
and of all created things.*

And others, also, will be the better by my being set
aside ; for so will they escape the faults which by
reason of my unfittingness they would have committed.
What I beg of you, then, my daughter, is to pray to God
that He will continue to me this grace ; for I fear that
they will send me to Segovia,f and that I shall not be
perfectly free. However, I shall do my utmost to escape
from this burthen also ; but if I fail, mother Anne of
Jesus will not get out of my hands as she expects, and
so will not die of grief at losing the opportunity, as she

* The Saint refers here to the chapter held in the previous month,
in which he was ' set aside,' being elected to no office and deprived
of that of provincial of Mexico. See Life of St. John of the Cross, by
David Lewis, p. 251.

f See Life, I.e. p. 253.

LETTERS 177

thinks, of becoming a very great saint. But whether I
go or stay, wherever or however I may be, I will never
forget her nor withdraw from the charge of her soul, of
which she speaks, because I really desire her eternal good.
Now, therefore, until God gives it in heaven, let her
exercise herself continually in the virtues of patience
and mortification, endeavouring to become like in some
measure, through suffering, to our great God, Who was
humbled and crucified for us, because our life here is
not good if we do not imitate Him. May His Majesty
preserve you and make you increase daily in His love,
as His holy and well-beloved child. Amen.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From MADRID : the 6th July, 1591.

LETTER XVII

TO MOTHER MARY OF THE INCARNATION, PRIORESS OF
THE SAME CONVENT*

On the same subject as the preceding

JESUS
Be in your soul. Trouble not yourself, my daughter,

* The daughter qf. Dona Ana de Jimena (see Letter XVI.), Dona Maria
de Bracamonte took the habit and made her profession together
with her mother. She filled the office of prioress at Segovia at the
same time as St. John of the Cross was prior of the friars of that town,
and twice at Medina del Campo. She died at Segovia July 29, 1623.
12

LETTERS

about what concerns me, since it troubles me not. The
only thing which grieves me much is to see the blame
laid upon those to whom it does not belong ; for these
things are done not by men, but God, Who knows what
is best for us, and orders all things for our good. Think
of this only, that all is ordained by God. And do you
love where there is no love, and you shall have love.
May His Majesty preserve you, and make you grow in
His love. Amen.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From MADRID : the 6th of July, 1591.

LETTER XVIII

TO DONA ANA DE PENALOSA *

He informs her of his recent illness

JESUS

Be in your soul, my daughter. I have received here in
Penuela the letter brought me by your servant, and I

* Doiia Ana de Mercado y Pefialosa, widow, since 1579, of Don
Juan de Guevara, had been instrumental in bringing the Teresian
nuns to Granada. She was many years under the direction of St.
John of the Cross, who wrote at her request the explanation of the
Living Flame of Love.

LETTERS 179

prize exceedingly the kindness thus shown to me. I am
going to-morrow to Ubeda, for the cure of a feverish
attack, which, having hung about me for more than a
week past, makes me think I require medical treatment.
It is my desire, however, to return here immediately,
as I find great good in this holy solitude. As to the
advice you give me not to go with F. Antony, be assured
that in this, as in all other matters of the kind, I will
be careful. I rejoice greatly to hear that Don Luis *
is now a priest of God ; may he be so for many a year,
and may His Majesty fulfil all the desires of his soul.
Oh, what a blessed state for cashing away all solicitude,
and speedily enriching his soul ! Congratulate him
from me. I dare not venture to ask him to remember
me, some day, in the mass, though I, as in duty bound,
shall always remember him ; for never shall I, how for
getful soever I be, fail to recollect him, closely bound as
he is with the sister whom I ever bear in my memory. I
salute my daughter Dona Inez very heartily in our Lord ;
and I beg both brother and sister to pray God for me,
that He will be pleased to prepare me and take me to
Himself.

* Don Luis de Mercado, brother of Dona Ana to whom the letter
is addressed, was a native of Segovia, and became auditor of the
chancery of Granada, and later on member of the Supreme Council of
Castille. He was a great benefactor of the Carmelite friars and nuns
of Granada.

l8o LETTERS

Now I remember nothing further that I have to write
to you, and besides, the fever will not suffer me to add
any more. But for this, gladly would I write at much
greater length.

FR. JOHN OF THE CROSS.

From PENUELA: Sept, 21, 1591.

CENSURE AND JUDGMENT OF THE BLESSED FATHER ON
THE SPIRIT AND METHOD OF PRAYER OF ONE OF THE
NUNS OF HIS ORDER

IN the kind of effective prayer practised by this soul,
there seem to be five defects, so that I cannot consider
her spirit to be good. The first is, that she has a great
fondness for her own way : and a true spirit practises
great detachment from all desire. The second is, that
she is too confident, and has too little fear of delusions ;
the spirit of God is never without fear, in order, as the
Wise Man saith, to keep a soul from sin.* The third is,
that she wishes to persuade people into the belief that
she is in a good and high state : this is not the fruit
of a true 'spirit : for that, on the contrary, would wish
to be lightly esteemed, and despised, and does despise
itself. The fourth and the chief is, that the fruits of
* Prov. xv. 27.

LETTERS l8l

humility are hot visible which, when the graces — as she
says here — are real, are ordinarily never communicated
to the soul without first undoing and annihilating it
in an interior abasement of humility. Now, if they
had wrought this effect in her, she could not fail to say
something, or rather a good deal, about it ; because the
first subjects that would suggest themselves to her to
speak about, and make much of, are the fruits of humility ;
and these in their operations are so effectual, that it is
impossible to dissemble them. Though they are not
equally observable in all the dealings of God, yet these,
which she calls Union, are never found without them.
Because a soul is humbled before it is exalted ; * and
' it is good for me that Thou hast humbled me.'f The
fifth is, that the style and language she uses do not seem
to me those of the spirit she refers to ; for that spirit
teaches a style which is more simple, free from affecta
tion, and exaggeration : and such is not the one before
me. All this that she says : God spoke to me : I spoke
to God : seems nonsense.

What I would say is this : she should not be required
nor permitted to write anything on these matters : and
her confessor should not seem to hear of them willingly,
except to disparage and set aside what she has to say.
Let her superiors try her in the practice of virtue only,

* Prov. xviii. 12. | Ps. cxviii. 71.

l82 LETTERS

particularly in that of contempt of self, humility, and
obedience ; and then at the sound of this blow will come
forth that gentleness of soul in which graces so great
have been wrought. These tests must be sharp, for there
is no evil spirit that will not suffer a good deal for his
own credit.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

183

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

SELECTED FROM THE WRITINGS OF ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS

PROLOGUE

0 MY GOD, sweetness and joy of my heart, behold how
my soul for love of Thee will occupy itself with these
maxims of love and light. For though the words thereof
are mine, I have not the meaning and the power, and
these are more pleasing to Thee than the language and
the knowledge thereof. Nevertheless, O Lord, it may
be that some may be drawn by them to serve and love
Thee, and profit where I fail : that will be a consolation
to me, if through me Thou shalt find in others what Thou
canst not find in me. O my Lord, Thou lovest dis
cretion, and light, but love, more than all the other
operations of the soul ; so then let these maxims furnish
discretion to the wayfarer, enlighten him by the way,
and supply him with motives of love for his journey.
Away, then, with the rhetoric of the world, sounding
words and the dry eloquence of human wisdom, weak
and delusive, never pleasing unto Thee. Let us speak

185

l86 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

to the heart words flowing with sweetness and love, and
such as Thou delightest in. Thou wilt be pleased herein,
O my God, and it may be that Thou wilt als» remove
the hindrance and the stones of stumbling from before
many souls who fall through ignorance, and who for
want of light wander out of the right way, though they
think they are walking in it, and following in all things
in the footsteps of Thy most sweet Son Jesus Christ our
Lord, and imitating Him in their life, state, and virtues
according to the rule of detachment and poverty of spirit.
But, O Father of mercy, do Thou give us this grace, for
without Thee, O Lord, we shall do nothing.

IMITATION OF CHRIST

1. There is no progress but in the following of Christ,
Who is the way, the truth, and the life, and the Gate by
which he who will be saved must enter. Every spirit,
therefore, that will walk in sweetness at its ease, shun
ning the following of Christ, is, in my opinion, nothing
worth.

2. Your first care must be to be anxiously and lov
ingly earnest in your endeavours to imitate Christ in
all your actions ; doing every one of them to the utter-

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 187

most of your power, as our Lord Himself would have
done them.

3. Every satisfaction offered to the senses which is
not for God's honour and glory you must renounce and
reject for the love of Jesus Christ, Who while upon earth,
had, and sought for, no other pleasure than doing the
will of His Father ; this, He said, was His meat and
drink.

4. In none of your actions whatever should you take
any man, however holy he may be, for your example,
because Satan is sure to put his imperfections forward
so as to attract your attention. Rather imitate Jesus
Christ, Who is supremely perfect and supremely holy.
So doing you will never go astray.

5. Inwardly and outwardly live always crucified
with Christ, and you will attain unto peace and con
tentment of spirit, and in your patience you shall possess
your soul.

6. Let Christ crucified alone be enough for you ;
with Him suffer, with Him take your rest, never rest
nor suffer without Him ; striving with all your might
to rid yourself of all selfish affections and inclinations,
and annihilation of self.

7. He who makes any account of himself, neither
denies himself nor follows Christ.

8. Love tribulations more than all good things, and

l88 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

do not imagine that you are .doing anything when you
endure them ; so shall you please Him Who did not
hesitate to die for you.

9. If you wish to attain to the possession of Christ,
never seek Him without the cross.

10. He who seeks not the cross of Christ, seeks not
the glory of Christ.

11. Desire to make yourself in suffering somewhat
like our great God, humiliated and crucified ; for life, if
not an imitation of His, is worth nothing.

12. What does he know who does not know how to
suffer for Christ ? The greater and the heavier the
sufferings, the better is his lot .who suffers.

13. All men desire to enter into the treasures and
consolations of God ; but few desire to enter into tribula
tions and sorrows for the Son of God.

14. Jesus Christ is but little known of those who
consider themselves His friends ; for we see them seeking
in Him their own comfort, and not His bitter sorrows.

THE THEOLOGICAL VIRTUES

• 15. Because it is the function of the theological
virtues to withdraw the soul from all that is less than
God, it is theirs, therefore, to unite with Him.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 189

16. Without walking truly in the practice of these
three virtues, it is impossible to attain to the perfect
love of God.

FAITH

17. The way of faith is sound and safe, and along this
souls must journey on from virtue to virtue, shutting
their eyes against every object of sense and of clear and
particular perception.

18. When the inspirations are from God they are
always in the order of the motives of His law, and of the
faith, in the perfection of which the soul should ever
draw nearer and nearer to God.

' 19. The soul that travels in the light and verities of
the faith is secured against error, for error proceeds
ordinarily from our own proper desires, tastes, reflections,
and understanding, wherein there is generally too much
or too little ; and hence the inclination to that which is
not seemly.

20. By the faith the soul travels protected against
the devil, its strongest and craftiest foe ; and St. Peter
knew of no stronger defence against him when he said :
' Resist him, strong in the faith/

21. The soul that would draw near unto God and

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

unite itself with Him, must do so by not comprehending
rather than by comprehending, in utter forgetfulness
of created things ; because it must change the mutable
and comprehensible for the immutable and the incom
prehensible, Who is God.

22. Outward light enables us to see that we may not
fall ; it is otherwise in the things of God, for there it is
better not to see, and the soul is in greater security.

23. It being certain that in this life we know God
better by what He is not than by what He is, it is neces
sary, if we are to draw near unto Him, that the soul
must deny, to the uttermost, all that may be denied
of its apprehensions, both natural and supernatural.

24. All apprehension and knowledge of supernatural
things cannot help us to love God so much as the least
act of living faith and hope made in detachment from
all things.

25. As in natural generation no new form results
without the corruption of the one previously existing—
for this hinders the former by reason of the contrariety
between them — so while the soul is under the dominion
of the sensual and animal spirit, the pure and heavenly
spirit can never enter.

26. Let no created thing have a place in your heart
if you would have the face of God pure and clear in your
soul ; yea, rather empty your spirit of all created things,

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 1 91

and you will walk in the divine light ; for God resembles
no created thing.

27. The greatest shelter of the soul is Faith ; for the
Holy Ghost gives it light : the more pure and refined
the soul in a perfect living faith, the greater the
infusion of charity, and the greater the communication
of supernatural gifts and light.

28. One of the greatest gifts of God to the soul in
this life — not permanent but transient — is that deep
sense and understanding of God by which it feels and
understands clearly, that it can neither understand nor
feel Him at all.

29. The soul that leans upon its owrn understanding,
sense, or feeling of its own — all this being very little
and very unlike to God — in order to travel on the right
road, is most easily led astray or hindered, because it
is not periectly blind in faith, which is its true guide.

30. There is one thing in our day that ought to make
us afraid : persons who have hardly begun to make their
meditations if they seem to hear anything in a brief
recollection, pronounce it to have come from God ; and
so imagine, saying, God has spoken or I have had an
answer from God, and it is not so : these persons have
been speaking to themselves, out of a longing for such
communications .

31. He who should now inquire of God by vision or

ST.

192 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

revelation would offend Him, because he does not fix
his eyes upon Christ alone. To such an one the answer
of God is : This is my beloved Son, in Whom I am well
pleased, hear Him, and do not seek for new instructions,
for in Him I have spoken and revealed all that may be
desired .and asked for ; I have given Him to be your
brother, master, companion, ransom, and reward.

32. We must be guided in all things by the teaching
of Christ and His Church, and thereby seek the remedy
for our spiritual ignorances and infirmities : it is thus
that we shall obtain abundant relief ; and all that goes
beyond this is not only curiosity but great rashness.

33: You are not to believe that which you hear in
a supernatural way, but only that which you learn
through the teaching of Christ and His ministers.

34. The soul that seeks after revelations sins venially
at least ; so does the director who encourages or allows
that seeking, be the end sought never so good ; there is
no necessity at all for this, seeing that we have our
natural reason and the evangelical law to guide us in all
things.

35. The soul that desires revelations undermines the
perfect guidance of the faith, and opens a door for Satan
to deceive it by false revelations ; for he knows well
how to disguise them so as to make them appear good.

36. The wisdom of the saints consists in knowing

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 193

how to direct the will courageously to God, in the per
fect fulfilment of His law and His holy counsels.

HOPE

37. That which moves and overcomes God is earnest
Hope ; in order to attain to the union of love, the soul
must journey in hope of God alone ; for without it nothing
will be obtained.

38. A living hope in God makes the soul so courage
ous and so earnest in the pursuit of the things of ever
lasting life, that it looks on this world — so indeed it is —
as dry, weak, valueless, and dead, in comparison with
that it hopes for hereafter.

39. The soul in hope strips itself of all the trappings
of this world, setting the heart upon nothing, hoping
for nothing in it or of it, clad in the vesture of the hope
of everlasting life.

40. Through a living hope in God the heart is so
raised up above the world and delivered from all its
snares, that not only it cannot come into contact with
it, and be attached to it, but it cannot even regard it.

41. In all your trials have recourse at once to God
with confidence, and you will be comforted, enlightened,
and instructed.

42. The soul that retains the slightest desire for
13

-±94 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

earthly things, is more unseemly and impure in the way
of God than if it were labouring under the heaviest and
most impure temptations and darkness, provided the
rational will did not consent to them ; such a soul may,
with greater confidence, draw near to God in obedience
to the divine will ; for our Lord hath said : Come unto
Me all you who labour and are heavily burdened, and I
will refresh you.

43. Have an earnest desire that God may give you
all He knows you to be deficient in, for His greater
honour and glory.

44. Have a continual trust in God, esteeming in your
self and in your brethren that which He most esteems ;
namely, spiritual graces.

45. The more God gives, the more He makes us
desire ; until He leaves us empty that He may fill us
with good things.

46. So pleased is God with the hope in which the
soul is ever looking unto Him with eyes turned away
from everything else, that it may be truly said of it that
it obtains all that it hopes for.

FEAR OF GOD

47. If you have sweetness and delight, draw near
to God in fear and in truth, and you will never be
deceived nor entangled in vanity.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 1 95

48. Do not rejoice in temporal prosperity, because
you do not certainly know that it makes eternal life
secure.

49. Though a man prosper in all his undertakings,
and though every wish of his heart may be gratified, he
ought in such a case to fear rather than rejoice ; for this
multiplies the occasions of forgetting God, and the risks
of offending Him.

50. Do not presume upon vain joy ; knowing how
many and how grievous are the sins you have com
mitted, and not knowing whether you are pleasing unto
God. But always fear and always hope in Him.

51. How can you venture to live without fear, seeing
that you must appear before God to give an account of
your lightest words and thoughts ?

52. Remember that the called are many, the chosen
few ; and if you are not careful, your final ruin is more
certain than your salvation ; especially as the way that
leadeth to eternal life is so strait.

53. As in the hour of death you will certainly be
sorry that you have not employed all your time in the
service of God, why is it that you do not now so employ
your time, as you will wish you had done when you are
dying ?

196 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

CHARITY

54. The strength of the soul lies in its faculties,
passions, and desires ; if these be directed towards God
by the will, and withdrawn from all that is not God, the
soul then keeps its strength for Him and loves Him with
all its might, as our Lord commands us.

55. Charity is like a fine robe of many colours,
which lends grace, beauty, and freshness, not only to the
white garment of faith and the green vesture of hope,
but also to all the virtues ; for without charity no virtue
is pleasing in the sight of God.

56. The worth of love does not consist in high feel
ings, but in detachment : in patience under all trials
for the sake of God Whom we love.

57. God has a greater esteem for the lowest degree
of purity of conscience, than for the greatest work you
can do for Him.

58. To seek God in Himself is to be without every
consolation for His sake ; an inclination to the choice
of all that is most unpleasing, whether in the things of
God or in the things of the world ; this is to love God.

59. Do not imagine that God is pleased with many
good works, so much as with the doing of them with
a good will, without self-seeking or human respect.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 197

60. Herein a man may know whether he really
loves God: is he satisfied with anything less than
God?

61. As the hair which is frequently dressed is the
cleaner, and is the more easily dressed upon all occa
sions, so is it with the soul which frequently examines
its thoughts, words, and works, doing all things for the
love of God.

62. As the hair is to be dressed from the top of the
head if it is to be thoroughly cleansed, so our good
works must have their beginning in the highest love of
God, if they are to be thoroughly pure and clean.

63. To restrain the tongue and the thoughts, and to
set the affections regularly upon God, quickly sets the
soul on fire in a divine way.

64. Study always to please God ; pray that His will
may be accomplished in you ; love Him much, for it is
His due. (See 311.)

65. All our goodness is a loan : God is the owner ;
God worketh, and His work is God.

66. We gain more by the goods of God in one hour,
than in our whole life by our own.

67. Our Lord has always manifested the treasures
of His wisdom and His Spirit to men ; but now that
wickedness manifests itself the more, He manifests them
still more.

1 98 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

68. In one sense the purification of a soul from the
contradictions of desire is a greater work of God than
its creation out of nothing ; that nothing offered no
resistance to His Maj esty : not so the love of the
creature.

69. That which God intends is to make us God by
participation, He being God by nature : as the fire
changes everything into fire.

70. At the close of life you will be examined as to
your love : learn then to love God as He wishes to be
loved, and give up all that is your own.

71. The soul that seeks God wholly, must give itself
wholly to Him.

72. New and imperfect lovers are like new wine,
easily spoiled until the scum of imperfections has been
cleared away, and the fervour with the coarse satisfac
tion of sense has died out.

73. The passions rule over the soul and assail it in
proportion to the weakness of the will in God, and to its
dependence on creatures ; for then it rej oices so easily
in things which do not deserve to be rejoiced in ; hopes
for that which is of no profit, and grieves over that in
which perhaps it ought to rejoice, and fears where
there is nothing to be afraid of.

74. They provoke the divine Majesty to anger ex
ceedingly, who, while seeking for spiritual food, are not

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 199

content with God only, but will intermingle therewith
carnal and earthly satisfactions.

75. He who loves any other thing together with God
makes light of Him, because he puts into the balance
with Him that which is at an infinite distance from
Him.

76. As a sick man is too weak for work, so the soul
that is weak in the love of God is also too weak for the
practice of perfect virtue.

77. To seek self in God is to seek for comfort and
refreshment from God ; that is contrary to the pure love
of God.

78. To regard the gifts of God more than God Him
self, is a great evil.

79. Many there are who seek their own pleasure and
comfort in God, and gifts and graces from Him ; but
they who seek to please Him and to give Him something
at their own cost — setting their own pleasure aside —
are very few.

80. Few spiritual persons — even among those who
think themselves most advanced — attain to a perfect
resolution in well-doing, for they never entirely lose
themselves on some point or other connected with the
world or self, despising appearances and the opinions of
men, so as to make their good works perfect and in
detachment from all things for the sake of Christ.

200 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

81. Self-will and self-satisfaction in the works they
do so prevail among men, whether ordinary or more ad
vanced Christians, that scarcely one is to be found who
works simply for God without looking for some consola
tion or comfort or other advantage in his work.

82. Some souls call God their Bridegroom and
Beloved ; but He is not really beloved by them, because
their heart is not whole with Him.

83. What will it profit you if you give God one thing
when He asks something else ? Consider what God
wills, and do it, for so will you satisfy your heart better
than by doing that to which you are inclined yourself.

84. To find all satisfaction in God you must be
satisfied with Him only, for in heaven itself, if you did
not bend your will to His will, you would never be
satisfied ; so is it here, if your heart is set upon any
thing else.

85. As aromatic spices exposed to the air gradually
lose their fragrance and the strength of their perfume,
so the soul, not recollected in the love of God alone,
loses the heat and vigour of virtue.

86. He who seeks nothing but God walks not in
darkness, however mean and poor he may be in his own
estimation.

87. For a man to suffer for God is a sign that he has
given himself up to Him, and that he loves Him.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 2OI

88. He who in the midst of dryness and abandon
ment is painfully anxious about the service of God, and
afraid that He does not serve Him, offers Him a ^sacrifice
that pleaseth Him well.

89. When God is really loved. He hears most readily
the cry of the soul that loves Him.

90. The soul defends itself against its fleshly enemy
by charity ; for where there is a real love of God neither
the love of self nor the love of creatures can enter in.

91. The loving soul is meek, gentle, humble, and
patient ; the soul that is hardened in self-love hardens
itself still more. If Thou, O good Jesus, in Thy love
dost not make the soul gentle, it will persist in its natural
hardness.

92. The soul that loves is neither wearied nor wearies.

93. Behold the infinite wisdom and the hidden
mysteries ; Oh ! the peace, the love, the silence of the
divine bosom ; Oh ! the deep science God is teaching
there ; it is that which we call anagogic acts — ejaculatory
prayer — Oh ! how they set the heart on fire.

94. The perfect love of God cannot subsist without
the knowledge of God and of self.

95. Perfect love naturally seeks nothing, and claims
nothing, for itself, but all for the beloved ; if this be so
with earthly love, how much more with the love of
God?

202 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

96. The old friends of God scarcely ever fail Him,
because they are raised above all occasions of failure.

97. True love accepts prosperity and adversity with
an even spirit, that of joy and delight.

98. The soul that labours to divest itself of all that
is not God for God's sake is immediately enlightened,
and transformed, in God, in such a way that the soul
seems to be God Himself, and to possess the things of
God.

99. Satan fears a soul united with Qod, as he fears
God Himself.

100. The soul, in the union of love, resists even the
first impulses.

101. Purity of heart is nothing less than the love and
grace of God. Hence our Lord says : Blessed are the
pure in heart ; that is, those who love ; for blessedness
is given to nothing less than love.

102. He who truly loves God is not ashamed before
men of what he does for God ; neither does he hide
his good works out of shame, though the whole world
may condemn them.

103. He who truly loves God thinks it a great gain
to lose all he has, and his own life, for God.

104. If the soul had but one glimpse of the beauty
of God, not only would it desire to die that it might
see Him for ever, but it would joyfully undergo a thou-

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 203

sand most bitter deaths to see Him again, if only for
a moment.

105. He who acts out of the pure love of God, not
only does not perform his actions to be seen of men,
but does not do them even that God may know of them.
Such an one, if he thought it possible that his good works
might escape the eye of God, would still perform them
with the same joy, and in the same pureness of love.

106. It is a great matter to be much exercised in
love ; in order that the soul, made perfect and con
summated therein, may not be long detained, either in
this life or the next, from the vision of God.

107. A pure and perfect work, wrought for God in
a pure heart, makes a perfect kingdom for its Lord.

108. To the pure in heart high things and low are
profitable, and minister to their greater purity ; while
to the impure, by reason of their impurity, both the one
and the other are occasions of greater evil.

109. The pure in heart find in all things the know
ledge of God, sweet, chaste, pure, spiritual, joyous and
loving.

PEACE

no. By keeping guard over the senses, which are
the gates of the soul, we keep also and increase its
tranquillity and purity.

204 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

in. Man would never lose peace if he forgot and
cast aside his thoughts and notions, and withdrew from
the sight, hearing, and conversation of men so far as he
well may.

112. If we forget all created things, there is then
nothing to disturb our peace ; nothing to excite the
desires that disturb it ; for, as the proverb says, What
the eye hath not seen, the heart doth not desire.

113. The restless and perturbed soul, the passions
and desires of which are not wholly mortified, is, as such,
incapacitated for spiritual good, for that enters only
into the soul which is under control and ordered in peace.

114. Be assured of this : God reigns only in the
peaceful and unselfish soul.

115. Be tranquil ; put away superfluous thoughts,
and make light of whatever may happen ; so shall your
service be pleasing unto God, and you shall rejoice in
Him.

116. Keep your heart in peace ; let nothing in this
world disturb it : all things have an end.

117. Be not made sad by the adverse events of this
life, for you know not the good they bring with them,
ordained in the judgments of God, for the everlasting
joy of the elect.

118. In all circumstances, however hard they may
be, we should rejoice, rather than be cast down, that we

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 205

may not lose the greatest good, the peace and tran
quillity of our soul.

119. If the whole world and all that is in it were
thrown into confusion, disquietude on that account
would be vanity, because that disquietude would do
more harm than good.

120. To endure all things with an equable and peace
ful mind, not only brings with it many blessings to the
soul, but also enables us, in the midst of our difficulties,
to have a clear judgment about them, and to minister
the fitting remedy for them.

121. It is not the will of God that the soul should
be troubled by anything, or that it should be afflicted ;
for if men are afflicted because of the adversities of this
world, that is the effect of their being weak in virtue ;
for the soul of the perfect rejoices in that which gives
pain to the soul of the imperfect.

122. The heavens are stedfast, not subject to genera
tion ; and souls which are of a heavenly nature are
stedfast, not subject to the generation of desires, nor
of anything of that kind : they are in some measure
like unto God, Who never changes.

LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR

123. Wisdom enters by love, silence, and mortifica
tion. It is great wisdom to know when to be silent,

206 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

when to suffer, and never to regard the sayings, doings,
or lives of others.

124. See that you do not intermeddle in the affairs
of other people, nor discuss them in your own thoughts ;
for perhaps you will not be able to fulfil your own task.

125. Suspect no evil of your brother, for that takes
away purity of heart.

126. Never listen to accounts of the frailties of
others ; and if anyone should complain to you of an
other, humbly ask him not to speak about him at all.

127. Do not shrink from trouble : though it may
seem to you more than you can bear. Let all men find
you compassionate.

128. No one merits love except for the virtue that
he has ; and when love is so ordered, it is according to
God, and in great freedom.

129. When the love and affection we give to the
creature is purely spiritual and founded on God, the
love of God grows with it ; and the more we remember
the earthly love, the more we also remember God and
desire Him : the one grows apace with the other.

130. When the love of the creature springs from
sensual vice, or from a purely natural inclination, in
proportion to its growth is the diminution of the love of
God and forgetfulness of Him ; and from the recollec
tion of the creature, remorse of conscience comes.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 2Oy

131. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that
which is born of the spirit is spirit, saith our Saviour
in His Gospel. So the love which grows out of sensuality
ends in sensuality ; that which is of the spirit ends in
the spirit of God, and makes it grow. This is the
difference between these two loves, that men may dis
tinguish between them.

DISORDERLY APPETITES

132. He who loves any creature out of the order of
charity, becomes vile as that creature itself, and in one
sense even viler ; for love not only levels but subjects
also the lover to the object of his love.

133. The passions and desires, when under control
and restrained, are sources of all virtue, and also, when
they have broken loose, of all the vices and imperfections
of the soul.

134. Every desire hurts the soul in five ways,
beside robbing it of the Spirit of God : i. It fatigues it.
2. Torments it. 3. Blinds it. 4. Defiles it. 5. Weak
ens it.

135. All created things are crumbs which fall from
the table of God ; and for that reason, they who go
about feeding on the creature are rightly called dogs ;

208 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

they are, therefore, always hungry like dogs, and justly
so, because crumbs excite rather than appease, hunger.

136. The desires are like restless and dissatisfied
children begging of their mother, now one thing, now
another, never contented ; like one ill of a burning
fever, never at rest, and whose thirst increases while the
fever continues.

137. As a man dragging a cart up hill, so is that
soul on its way to God, which does not throw aside the
cares of this life, and does not deny itself.

138. As he is tormented who falls into the hands of
his enemies, so is the soul afflicted and tormented which
is carried away by its desires.

139. As a man is tormented and afflicted who lies
down naked amid thorns and briars, so is the soul
tormented and afflicted which lies down in the midst of
its desires : they pierce, torture, and tear it painfully.

140. As vapours darken the air and hide the light of
the sun, so the soul, captive to its desires, is, as to the
understanding, in darkness, so that neither the sun of
natural reason nor that of the supernatural wisdom of
God can reach it or enlighten it.

141. He who feeds his desires is like a moth, or a fish
dazzled by the light which the fishermen throw over the
water, that it may not see the ruin which the fishermen
have prepared for it.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

142. Who can tell how impossible it is for the soul,
subject to desires, to judge of the things of God ? for
while the film of desire is over the eye of its judgment,
it sees nothing but that film, now of one colour, now of
another ; and so it comes to regard the things of God
as not the things of God, and those which are not the
things of God as the things of God.

143. A bird that has perched upon a twig covered
with birdlime labours in a twofold way, in setting
itself free, and in cleaning itself ; so a soul, that has
given way to desires ; it has to set itself free in the first
place, and then to clean itself of that which has clung
to it.

144. As soot defiles the most beautiful and perfect
face, so the unruly desires of the soul defile and pollute
that soul which entertains them, and yet that soul in
itself is the most beautiful and perfect image of God.

145. He that toucheth pitch, saith the Holy Ghost,
shall be defiled with it.* A soul touches pitch when it
satisfies the desires of the will in any created thing.

146. If my object were to describe the foul and
corrupt condition to which the desires reduce the soul,
I should not be able to find anything so full of cobwebs
and worms, not even corruption itself wherewith to
compare it.

* Ecclus. xiii. i.
14

210 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

147. The desires are like the suckers which grow on
a tree, they sap its strength and destroy its fertility.

148. There are corrupt humours which so weaken a
man's gait, and make him loathe his food, as the desire
of the creature weakens the soul, indisposing it for the
practice of virtue.

149. Many souls have no inclination for virtue,
because their desires are not pure, and not for God.

150. As the young vipers, growing in the womb, feed
on their mother and kill her, preserving their own lives
at the cost of hers, so the unmortified desires prey on
the soul and kill in it the life of God ; they at last are the
only things that live in it, because the soul has not killed
them first.

151. As it is necessary to till the earth that it may
bring forth fruit — for otherwise it will produce nothing
but weeds, — so also is it necessary to mortify our desires,
that the soul may be clean.

152. As wood is never transformed into fire if but
one degree of heat necessary for that end be wanting,
so the soul that has one imperfection can never be
perfectly transformed in God.

153. Whether it be a strong wire rope, or a slender
and delicate thread, that holds the bird, it matters not
if it really detains it, for, until the cord be broken, the
bird cannot fly ; so the soul, held in the bonds of human

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 211

affections, however slight they may be, cannot, while
they last, make its way to God.

154. The desires and attachments of the soul have
the property attributed to the remora, which, though
it be but a very little fish, yet it arrests the progress
of the ship to which it clings.

I55- O that spiritual men knew how they are losing
the blessings and fulness of the Spirit, merely because
they will not raise up their desires above trifles ! and how
they might have the sweetness of all things in the pure
food of the Spirit — of which the manna was a figure —
if they would only abstain from tasting other food.

156. The children of Israel did not find in the manna
all the sweetness and strength they might have found in
it ; not because the manna did not contain them, but
because they longed for other meat.

157. Of one spark cometh a great fire, and one im
perfection is enough to beget others. We shall never
see a soul negligent in resisting but one single desire,
which has not many other desires, springing out of that
weakness and imperfection from which the first pro
ceeds.

158. Voluntary and perfectly deliberate desires, how
ever slight they may be, if only habitual, are those which
chiefly hinder our progress to perfection.

159. Any imperfection to which the soul is attached

212 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

and accustomed, is a greater injury to virtue than a
daily fall into many other and even greater imperfections,
provided they do not result from the habitual indulgence
of an evil inclination.

160. God is justly angry with certain souls whom He,
by His mighty arm, has delivered from the world, and
from the occasions of grievous sins, but who are weak
and negligent in mortifying certain imperfections ; for
this He permits them to fall through their desires from
bad to worse.

PRUDENCE

161. Give heed to reason, that you may perform that
which it dictates to you in the way of God : and it will
serve you more than all good works heedlessly done, and
all the spiritual sweetness you aim at.

162. Blessed is he who, setting his own tastes and
inclinations aside, looks at things according to reason
and justice, in order to accomplish them.

163. He who acts according to reason is as one who
eats strong and substantial food ; but he who in his
works seeks the satisfaction of his own will, is as one
who eats poor and unripe fruit.

164. No creature may transgress the limits which
God has set for it in the order of its nature : and as He

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 213

has appointed for man's governance certain natural
and rational laws, the transgression thereof, by seeking
knowledge in a supernatural way, is neither holy nor
becoming : moreover, God is displeased ; and if at any
time He vouchsafes an answer, it is out of condescension
to the soul's weakness.

165. Man knows not how to order his joy and grief
reasonably and prudently, because he knows not the
distance between good and evil.

166. We know not how to distinguish between our
right hand and our left : for at every step we take evil
for good and good for evil, and if this be as it were
natural to us, what must it be if desire be added to our
natural blindness.

167. The desire, as desire, is blind, because in itself
it regards not reason, which is that which ever guides
and directs the soul aright in its operations : so the soul,
whenever it is guided by its desires, is blind.

THE ANGELS

168. The angels are our shepherds, because they carry
not only our message to God, but also those of God
to our souls, feeding them with sweet inspirations and
divine communications : as good shepherds they protect

214 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

us, and defend us from the wolves, which are the evil
spirits.

169. Through the secret inspirations which the angels
convey to the soul, they effect a deeper knowledge of
God, and make it love Him the more, till they leave it
wounded with love.

170. The divine wisdom which in heaven illumines
the angels, and cleanses them of their ignorances, is the
same which illumines men upon earth, and cleanses them
of their errors and imperfections ; it flows from God
through the first orders of the hierarchies down to the
lowest, and thence to men.

171. The light of God, which illumines an angel,
enlightening and setting him on fire with love, as pure
spirit disposed for that inflowing, illumines man
ordinarily in darkness, pain, and distress, because of
his impurity and weakness : so is the sun to a weak eye ;
the light it gives is painful.

172. When man has become spiritualised and refined
in the fire of divine love which purifies him, he is then
within the union and inflowing of the loving illumination
with the sweetness with which an angel receives them.
There are souls who in this life receive a more perfect
illumination than the angels.

173. When God gives great graces to a soul through
the hands of an angel, He ordinarily allows the devil

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 215

to know it, that he may assail that soul with all his
might, according to the measure of justice, in order
that the victory may be the more prized, and the soul,
faithful in temptation, may be the more abundantly
rewarded.

174. Remember that your guardian angel does not
always move the will to act, though he always enlightens
the reason ; therefore do not promise yourself sensible
sweetness always in your works, because reason and
understanding are sufficient.

175. When the desires of man are occupied with
anything that is not God, they embarrass the soul and
shut the door against the light by which the angel moves
it to virtue.

176. Consider what utter vanity it is to rejoice in
anything but in the service of God, how dangerous and
how fatal ; how ruinous it proved to the angels who
rejoiced and had complacency in their own beauty and
their natural endowments ; for this they fell deformed
into the abyss.

A SPIRITUAL DIRECTOR

177. A soul without a director is like a kindled coal,
which, left by itself, cools instead of burning.

2l6 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

178. He who insists on being left to himself, with
out a director to guide him, is like an unowned tree by
the wayside ; however fruitful it may be, the travellers
pick its fruit, and none of it ripens.

179. The tree that is cultivated and kept carefully
by its owner produces fruit in due season, and the owner
is not disappointed.

1 80. He who falls alone remains alone in his fall ;
he makes little account of his soul, because he trusts
in himself alone.

181. He who is carrying a burden when he falls,
rises with difficulty under his burden.

182. He who falls, being blind, cannot rise, being
blind and alone ; and if he should rise by himself, he
will walk in a direction that is not good for him.

183. If you are not afraid to fall by yourself, how
can you venture to raise yourself alone ? Remember
that two are better than one.

184. Our Lord did not say in His gospel, where one
is by himself there am I, but where there are at the
least two : this is to show that no one should believe
of himself, or confirm himself in, the things which he
thinks are those of God, without the counsel and direc
tion of the Church and her ministers.

185. Woe to him that is alone, saith the Holy Ghost ;
and therefore the soul has need of a director, for both

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 217

will resist the devil more easily, being both together to
learn and practise the truth.

186. It is the will of God that the government of
one man should be in the hands, of another, and that we
should not give perfect credit to those matters which
He communicates supernaturally Himself, until they
shall have passed through the human channel of another
man's mouth.

187. When God makes a particular revelation to a
soul, he also inclines that soul to make it known to the
minister of His Church, who stands in His place.

188. It is not every one who is fitted for the direction
of souls; it being a matter of the last importance to
give right or wrong advice in so serious a matter as
that.

189. Let the soul that would advance, and not go
back, take care into whose hands it commits itself ; for,
as the master, so the scholar, and as the father, so the
child.

190. The inclinations and tastes of the director are
easily impressed upon the penitent.

191. The chief solicitude of spiritual directors should
be to mortify every desire of their penitents : to make
them deny themselves in all they desire, so as to deliver
them from so great misery.

192. However high the doctrine, adorned the elo-

2l8 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

quence, sublime the style, the fruits of the sermon will
be, in general, no better than the spirit of the preacher.

I93- A good style and action, high doctrines and
correct expression, have a greater effect when accom
panied by true spirituality ; but without that the will
is scarcely or but little inflamed, though the senses may
be charmed and the understanding delighted.

194. God is angry with those who teach His law
and keep it not ; and who preach spirituality to others
without being spiritual themselves.

195. For the highest parts, and even for the ordinary
parts, of the way of perfection, you will scarcely find
one capable guide throughout, such as men have need
of : such an one must be wise, discreet, and experienced.

196. For though the foundations of direction be
knowledge and discretion, yet if directors be without
experience, they will never be able to guide the soul in
the way in which God is leading it ; they will make
it go backwards, ordering it after low methods which
they pick up in books.

197. He who shall presumptuously err in the direc
tion of souls, being under obligation to give good counsel
— as every one is in the office he undertakes — shall not
escape punishment according to the evil he has done ;
for the work of God — and such is the direction of souls
— demands great caution and counsel.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 2IQ

198. Who can be like St. Paul, who was all things to
all, that he might save all ? knowing all the ways by
which God leads souls, which are so different one from
another, that you can scarcely find one which in half
its ways agrees with the ways of another.

RELIGION, PRAYER

199. The greatest honour we can render unto God,
is to serve Him in evangelical perfection : and whatever
is beside this is of no value or advantage to man.

200. One thought of man is of more value than the
whole world ; God alone is, for that reason, the worthy
object of it, and to Him alone is it due ; every thought
of man, therefore, which is not given to God, is a
robbery.

201. In all nature there are correspondences ; in
sensible things correspond with those that are insensible ;
sense with things sensible ; and man's thoughts with
the Spirit of God.

NECESSITY OF PRAYER

202. Never let your heart waste its affections, not
even for a moment.

203. The soul cannot overcome the devil without

22O SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

prayer, nor penetrate his devices without humility and
mortification : for the weapons of God are prayer and
the Cross of Christ.

204. In all our necessities, trials, and afflictions, there
is no better nor safer remedy than prayer, and hope that
God will provide for us in His own way.

FRUITS OF- PRAYER

205. Let God be the Bridegroom and the beloved of
your soul ; remain always in His presence, and so you
shall avoid sin, learn to love Him, and all things will
prosper with you.

206. Enter into your innermost heart, and labour
in the presence of God, the Bridegroom of the soul,
Who is ever present doing you good.

207. Strive to be continually in the presence of God,
and to preserve the purity which He teaches.

208. By prayer aridity is expelled, devotion in
creased, and the interior practice of virtue is established
in the soul.

209. By shutting the eyes to the defects of others,
keeping silence, and conversing continually with God,
great imperfections are rooted out of your soul, which
thereby becomes possessed of great virtues.

210. When prayer is made in the pure and simple

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 221

understanding of God, it seems to the soul to have lasted
but a moment, though in fact it occupied much time ;
this is that prayer of a moment, of which it is said that
it pierces the clouds.

THE PROPERTIES OF PRAYER

211. The powers and senses of the soul should not be
employed altogether upon anything unless it be a matter
which cannot be neglected ; for the rest, they should be
unoccupied for God.

212. Wait lovingly upon God, without any desire to
feel or understand anything in particular of Him.

213. Strive to attain to that state in which nothing
is of importance to you, and you of importance to none,
so that being utterly forgotten you may be with God in
secret.

214. He who will not allow his desires to carry him
away will wing his flight like a bird whose wings are
strong.

215. Do not nourish your soul upon anything else
but on God : repel the remembrance of things, let peace
and recollection fill your heart.

216. If you would attain to holy recollection, it
must be by rejecting, and not by admitting.

217. Seek by reading and you will find by meditat-

222 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

ing ; cry in prayer and the door will be opened in con
templation.

218. True devotion and spirituality consist in perse
verance in prayer, with patience and humility, distrust
ing yourself that you may please God only.

219. They call upon God in truth who pray for that
which is most true : namely, that which belongs to their
eternal salvation.

220. There is no better way to obtain the desires of
our heart than to pray with all our might for that which
is most pleasing unto God ; for then He will grant us not
only our salvation, which we pray for, but also that
which He sees expedient for us, though we may never
ask for it, and though it may have never entered into
our hearts to do so.

221. Let every soul understand that, although God
may not succour it in its necessities when it cries, He
will not however fail it when the time comes ; provided
it does not lose heart and cease from prayer.

MOTIVES FOR PRAYER

222. When the will, the moment it feels any joy in
sensible things, rises upwards in that joy to God, and
when sensible t hings move it to pray, it should not rej ect

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 223

them, it may and should make use of them for so holy
an exercise ; because sensible things, under these con
ditions, subserve the end for which God created them :
namely, to be occasions of making -Him better known
and loved.

223. He whose senses are subject to the Spirit,
purged from all sensible objects, even in his first move
ments, elicits delight in the sweet knowledge and con
templation of God.

224. As it is a truth of sound philosophy that the
life of every creature is in harmony with its constitution,
so is it clear beyond all contradiction, that he whose life
is spiritual — the animal life being mortified — must be
wholly tending towards God.

225. The will of a devout person rests chiefly on the
invisible ; he requires but few images for his use, and
these are such as are more conformable to divine, than
to human, taste, ordering himself herein after the ways
of the other world, and not of this.

226. The chief thing to be regarded in images is
devotion and faith ; if these be absent, the image will not
be sufficient. What a perfect living image our Lord
was upon earth, and yet those who had no faith, though
they were about Him, and saw His wonderful works,
were none the better.

224 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

PLACE FOR PRAYER

227. Keep yourself apart for one thing only, that
which brings everything with it ; solitude, accompanied
by prayer and spiritual reading : and there abide, for
getting all things, if there be no obligation upon you to
remember them. You will please God more by keeping
watch over, and perfecting, yourself, than if you gained
everything : for what doth it profit a man if he gain the
whole world, if he loses his own soul ?

228. Pure spirituality gives no heed to matters which
do not concern it, or to human respect ; but alone and
apart from all created forms, communicates interiorly
in sweet tranquillity with God ; for the knowledge of
Him lies in a divine silence.

229. For the purposes of prayer that place is to be
chosen in which sense and spirit may be least hindered
from rising upwards unto God.

230. The place of prayer must not be pleasant and
delectable to the senses — some people seek such a place
— lest the issue should be recreation of sense, and not
recollection of spirit.

231. He who goes on a pilgrimage will do well to
do so when others do not, though it be an unusual
season. When pilgrims are many, I would advise stay-

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 225

ing at home, for in general men return more dissipated
than they were before they went. They who become
pilgrims for recreation, rather than devotion, are many
in number.

HINDRANCES TO PRAYER

232. He who interrupts the course of his spiritual
exercises and prayer, is like a man who allows a bird to
escape from his hand ; he can hardly catch it again.

233. God being, as He is, inaccessible, do not rest on
the consideration of objects perceptible by sense, and
comprehended by the understanding. This is to be
satisfied with what is less than God ; so doing you will
destroy that energy of the soul which is necessary for
walking with Him.

234. Never admit into your soul that which is not
substantially spiritual ; for if you do so you will lose the
sweetness of devotion and recollection.

235. He who relies much on sense will never be very
spiritual; they deceive themselves who think they can
in the sheer strength of our grovelling senses, attain to
the power of the spirit.

236. The imperfect destroy true devotion, because
they seek sensible sweetness in prayer.

15

226 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

237. The fly that touches the honey cannot fly ; so
the soul that clings to spiritual sweetness ruins its
freedom and hinders contemplation.

238. He who will not dispose himself to pray in
every place, but only there where his own taste is grati
fied, will frequently fail in his prayer ; because, as they
say, he can pray only in his own parish.

239. He who is not conscious of liberty of spirit amid
the things of sense and sweetness, which should serve as
motives to prayer, and whose will rests and feeds upon
them, ought to abstain from the use of them, for to him
they are a hindrance on the road to God.

240. It is very foolish, when spiritual sweetness and
delight fail, to imagine that God has failed us also ; and
to imagine, that because we have such sweetness, that
we have God also.

241. Very often many spiritual persons employ their
senses upon sensible things, under the pretext of giving
themselves to prayer, and raising their hearts to God ;
'now this that they do should be called recreation rather
than prayer ; pleasing themselves rather than God.

242. Meditation tends to contemplation, as means to
an end. So when the end is attained, the means are
laid aside ; men rest at the end of their journey ; thus,
when the state of contemplation has been attained,
meditation must cease.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 227

243. As it is necessary, at the proper time, to give
up the work of reflection and meditation in order to
draw near unto God, lest it should prove an impedi
ment, so also is it necessary not to give it up before the
time lest we should go back.

244. There are three signs of contemplation and
interior recollection of the soul : i. When the soul takes
no pleasure in transitory things. 2. When it seeks
solitude and silence, striving after that which is the
more perfect. 3. When meditation, which was once
a help, proves a hindrance. These three signs must
be found together.

245. In the beginning of the state of contemplation
the loving knowledge of God, as it were, imperceptible :
in the first place, because it is most subtile and delicate,
and, as it were, imperceptible ; in the second place,
because the soul has been accustomed to the practice of
meditation, which is more cognisable by the senses.

246. The more the soul is disposed for tranquillity,
the more will the loving knowledge of contemplation
grow ; the soul will feel it and relish it more than all
other things whatever ; because it brings with it peace
and rest, sweetness and delight, without trouble.

247. They who have entered the state of contempla
tion, must not for that reason suppose that they are
never to make a meditation any more ; for in the be-

228 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

ginning the habit of it is not so established that they can
have it whenever they will ; neither are they so far
removed from meditation as to be unable to meditate
as they were accustomed to do.

248. Except in the act of contemplation, in all
exercises and good works, the soul must make use of
memory and good meditations in such a way as to in
crease devotion and profit, particularly dwelling on the
life, passion, and death of our Lord Jesus Christ, in order
that its works, exercises, and life may be conformed to
His.

249. The conditions of the 'solitary sparrow' are
five : i. It ascends as high as it can. 2. It admits none
to be its companion, even of its own kind. 3. It faces
the wind. 4. It has no definite colour. 5. It sings
sweetly. The contemplative soul should be like it ; it
must rise high above transitory things, making no more
account of them than if they never existed ; it must be
so enamoured of solitude and silence as to suffer no
creature to be in its company ; it must face the wind of
the Holy Ghost, corresponding to His inspirations, that
so doing, it may become more worthy of His company ;
it must have no definite colour, bent upon nothing but
on doing the will of God ; it must sing sweetly in the
contemplation and love of God.

250. Though occasionally, in the height of contem-

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 22Q

plation and simple view of the divinity, the soul may
not remember the most sacred humanity of Christ,
because God elevates the spirit to knowledge, the most
supernatural, yet studiously to forget it is in nowise
seemly, seeing that by the contemplation thereof, and
loving meditation thereon, the soul will ascend to the
highest state of union ; for Christ our Lord is the truth,
the gate, the way, and the guide to all good.

OBEDIENCE

251. The way of life demands little trouble and care,
it demands denial of the will rather than much know
ledge ; he who inclines to pleasure and sweetness will be
the less able to travel on it.

252. He who does not walk in the way of his own
pleasure, nor in that of the pleasures which come from
God, nor in that of those which come from creatures,
and never does his own will, he shall never stumble.

253. Though you may undertake great things, yet,
if you will not learn to deny your own will and to be
obedient, casting away all anxiety about yourself and
your own affairs, you will make no progress in the way
of perfection.

254. Let others teach you, let others order you, let
others rule over you, and you will become perfect.

230 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

255. God is more pleased with that soul which, in
spiritual aridity and trouble, is subject and obedient,
than with that which, without obedience, performs all
its duties in great spiritual sweetness.

256. God would rather have from you the lowest
degree of obedience and subjection, than all those ser
vices you attempt to render Him.

257. Subjection and obedience is the penance of
reason and discretion ; and therefore a more pleasing
and acceptable sacrifice in the eyes of God than all other
bodily penances.

258. Bodily penance, without obedience, is a most
imperfect thing ; beginners practise it out of a desire for
it, and for the pleasure they find in it, and therefore,
because they herein do their own will, grow in vice,
rather than in virtue.

259. Inasmuch as a double bitterness results from
fulfilling one's own will ; do not fulfil it, although it may
be bitterness to remain quiet.

260. The devil prevails with ease over those who are
alone, and who in the things of God order themselves
according to their own will.

FORTITUDE, PATIENCE

261. It is better when burdened to be with the
strong, than unburdened with the weak. When you are

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 23!

loaded with afflictions you are with God, Who is your
strength, and He is with the afflicted. When you are
unburdened you are by yourself, who are weakness
itself, for the virtue and fortitude of the soul grow and
are made strong in tribulations.

262. Your flesh is weak, and no worldly thing can
strengthen or comfort your spirit ; that which is born
of the world is worldly, and that which is born of flesh
is flesh : a good spirit is born only of the Spirit of God,
and is communicated neither through the world nor the
flesh.

263. The most delicate flower is the first to wither,
and to lose its fragrance : therefore take care you do
not walk in the way of spiritual sweetness, for you will
never be firm. Choose rather a strong spirit, attached
to nothing, and you will find sweetness and abundance
of peace. Savoury, sweet, and lasting fruit is gathered
only in a dry and cold soil.

264. Though the road be plain and pleasant for men
of good will, he who travels on it will travel little, and
that with difficulty, if not possessed of courage, strength,
and resolution.

265. Feed not in forbidden pastures, which are those
of this life : the blessed are they who hunger and thirst
after justice, for they shall be filled.

266. Verily he has overcome all things in whom

232 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

pleasure in them excites no joy, and the bitterness of
them no sadness.

267. By fortitude the soul labours, practises virtue,
and overcomes vice.

268. Let your heart be strong against everything
that may draw you to that which is not God, and be at
home in the sufferings of Christ.

269. Rejoice in God always, for He is your salva
tion, and consider how blessed it is to suffer whatever
may come from Him who is the true good.

270. If you incline to aridities and suffering for the
love of God, He will esteem that in you of more value
than all the spiritual visions, meditations, and consola
tions you may ever have.

271. Never, for good or for evil, suffer your heart to
be otherwise than calm in the affections of love ; that
you may endure whatever may befall you.

272. We are not to measure our trials by ourselves,
but ourselves by our trials.

273. If souls knew how much suffering and mortifi
cation help to the attainment of great blessings, they
would never seek for consolation anywhere.

274. If a soul has more patience under suffering, a
greater endurance in the absence of sweetness, that is a
sign of greater progress in virtue.

275. The way of suffering is more secure and also

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 233

more profitable than that of joy and action. In suffer
ing, the strength of God is given to the soul, while in
joy and action it has to do with its own weakness and
imperfections : in suffering also virtues are required
and practised ; the soul is purified, and is rendered more
prudent and cautious.

276. The soul that is not tried and proved in tempta
tions and afflictions can never attain unto wisdom, as
it is written in the book Ecclesiasticus : ' What doth
he know that hath not been tried ? ' *

277. The most perfect suffering brings with it the
most perfect understanding.

MODESTY

278. The soul, by refraining from joy in the objects
of sense, recovers itself from the distractions into which
it has fallen through the excessive indulgence of the
senses, and recollects itself in God : spirituality and the
virtues it has acquired are also preserved and increased.

279. As the man who seeks pleasure in the things of
sense, and rejoices in them, ought not, and deserves not,
to be called by any other name than sensual, animal,
and earthly, so he whose joy is beyond and above these

* Ecclus. xxxiv. 9.

234 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

things merits the name of spiritual; heavenly, and
divine.

280. If you will deny yourself one joy in the things
of sense, our Lord will repay you a hundredfold in this
life, spiritually and temporally ; and for one joy in
dulged in the things of sense, you shall have a hundred
sorrows and afflictions.

281. All the functions and powers of his senses, who
no longer lives after the flesh, are directed to divine
contemplation.

282. Though the goods of sense may deserve to be
somewhat rejoiced in when they help a man to raise
his thoughts to God, yet this is so uncertain that in
general they do a man more harm than good.

283. Until a man shall have so habituated his senses
to the purgation from sensible joy, that all things raise
him up to God, he must refrain from all joy in them,
in order that he may wean his soul from the life of
sense.

SILENCE?

284. The Father uttered one Word ; that Word is
His Son : and He utters Him for ever in everlasting
silence, and in silence the soul has to hear It.

285. That which we most require for our spiritual

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 235

growth is the silence of the desire and of the tongue
before God, Who is so high : the language He most
listens to is that of silent love.

286. Speak little : and do not meddle in matters
when you are not desired to do so.

287. Never listen to accounts of the frailties of
others ; and if any one should complain to you of another,
humbly ask him not to speak about him at all.

288. Complain of no one : ask for nothing, but if it
should be necessary to ask, do so in few words.

289. Abstain from contradiction : on no account let
your words be other than pure.

290. Let your words be offensive to none ; and
about matters that will cause you no trouble if every
body knew of them.

291. Preserve your spirit in peace, lovingly attentive
to God ; and when you must speak, do so calmly and
peaceably.

292. Be silent about what God may say to you,
remembering the words of Scripture : ' My secret to
me/*

293. Never forget that of every word uttered with
out the direction of obedience, God will require a strict
account.

294. Intercourse with people beyond what is strictly

* Is. xxiv. 1 6.

236 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

necessary and required by reason, has never been good
for any man, however holy he may have been.

295. It is impossible to make progress otherwise than
by doing and suffering everything in silence.

296. For growth in virtue, the important thing is to
be silent, and to work : conversation distracts, silence
and work bring recollection.

297. The moment a person understands what is told
him for his good, there is no necessity for him to ask
for further direction, nor to speak about it, but to act
upon it sincerely in silence, carefully, in humility, charity,
and contempt of self.

298. I have understood that the soul which is ready
for talking and the commerce of the world is but little
attentive to God : for if it were otherwise, it would
withdraw itself at once into silence within, and avoid
all conversation whatever.

299. It is the will of God that the soul should de
light in Him, rather than in any created thing, however
useful or necessary it may be to it.

HUMILITY

300. The first thing the soul must have in order to
attain to the knowledge of God is the knowledge of itself.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 237

301. God is more pleased with certain actions, how
ever few they may be, done in silence and in secret, and
without any desire that men might see them, than with
a thousand grand actions undertaken with the intention
of their being seen by men.

302. The secrecy of conscience is broken when a
man reveals to others the good estate it is in, receiving
lor his reward the praise of men.

303. The Wise Spirit of God Who dwells in humble
souls inclines them to keep His treasures in secret, and
to cast out what is amiss.

304. Perfection consists not in those virtues which
every one recognises in himself, but in those which God
approves of. And as His approval is hidden from the
eyes of men, no one has any reason to presume, and
every one many, to make him afraid.

305. God, when He loves a soul, regards not its
greatness, but rather the greatness of its contempt of
self and its humility.

306. What you most seek, and most anxiously desire,
you will never find if you seek it for yourself, not even
in the most profound contemplation ; but only in deep
humility and submission of heart.

307. If you will glory in yourself cast away every
thing not your own : what remains will be nothing, and
this thing you should glory in.

238 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

308. Do not despise others because, as it seems to
you, they do not possess the virtues you thought they
had : they may be pleasing to God for other reasons
which you cannot discover.

309. Never excuse yourself : . listen calmly to the
reprimand and consider it to come from God.

310. Look upon it as a special mercy of God, that
people ever speak kindly to you : you do not deserve it.

311. Make neither much nor little of him who may
be against you, and strive always to please God. Pray
that His will may be done, and love Him much, for it
is His due.

312. Love to be unknown to yourself and others :
never regard the good nor the evil of others.

313. Never forget the life to come. Consider how
many in heaven are great, and in great glory, who in
their own eyes were of no account, humble and poor.

314. In order to mortify truly the desire of honour
from which so many other desires proceed, you will do
those things which will bring you into contempt, and
you will wish others to despise you : you will speak
disparagingly of yourself and you will contrive that
others do so : you will think humbly and contemptuously
of yourself, and you will wish others to do so also.

315. Humility and submission to your spiritual
director, disclosing to him all that passes in your inter-

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 239

course with God, will bring light, rest, contentment, and
security.

316. Virtue consists not in what you have learned,
and feel about God, however great that may be, nor in
any personal experiences of this kind, but, on the con
trary, in that which is not matter of feeling at all, in
great humility, contempt of self, and of all that belongs
to you profoundly rooted in the soul.

317. All visions, revelations, and impressions of
heaven, however much the spiritual man may esteem
them, are not equal in worth to the least act of humility :
for this brings forth the fruits of charity, which never
esteems nor thinks well of self, but only of others.

318. The communications which come really from
God have this property, that they humble and exalt the
soul at the same time, for in the way of the Spirit to
descend is to ascend, and to ascend is to descend.

319. When God communicates His gifts and graces
to the soul, He excites in it a repugnance to accept
honours and distinctions ; but in the way of humility
and self-abasement, He gives it ease and readiness.

320. God hates to see men ready to accept dignities,
even when it is His will that they should accept them ;
but it is not His will that they should do so eagerly and
promptly.

321. When the devil speaks, he makes men ready

240 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

and eager to accept dignities, but he makes them reject
humiliations and self-abasement.

VANITY

322. He who loves superiorities and dignities, or the
indulgence of his desires, stands before God, not as a
son who is free, but as one of mean condition, and slave
of his passions.

323. The soul that is not humble, the devil most
easily deludes, and makes it believe a thousand lies.

324. There are many Christians in our day who have
certain virtues, and who do great things, but all of no
use to them in the matter of everlasting life, because in
them they do not seek that honour and glory which
belongs to God alone, but rather the empty satisfaction
of their own will.

325. Empty joy in our good works is always attended
by a great esteem of them ; out of this comes boasting,
and other faults such as we see in the Pharisee in the
gospel.

326. Such is the misery of the children of men, that,
so far as I can see, the greater part of their good works
done in public are either sinful or worthless ; or im
perfect and defective in the sight of God because men

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 24!

will not detach themselves from self-interest and from
human respect.

327. O souls created for, and called unto, a dignity
so great ! what are you doing, what is it that detains
you ? O miserable blindness of the children of Adam,
who in a light so great are blind, and to such an invita
tion deaf ! While they seek after greatness and honour
they are themselves miserable and base, and of such
blessings unworthy.

VOLUNTARY POVERTY

328. If rejoicing in riches can be made in any way
endurable, it is when men spend and use them in the
service of God ; there is no other way of making them
profitable : the same principle applies to all other
temporal goods, titles, rank and office.

329. The spiritual man must be very careful of the
beginnings of joy in temporal things, lest from little it
should become great, increasing step by step ; out of
slight beginnings great evils result. One spark is enough
to set a mountain on fire.

330. However small an attachment may be, be not
too confident that you can cut it off at any time ; cut it
off at once : for if you have not the courage to destroy

16

242 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

it when it is but beginning, how can you presume upon
success when it has taken root and grown ?

331. He who turns aside from what is little, will not
stumble over what is large. Little matters cause great
evils, because the fences and walls of the heart are broken
down when they enter in ; for the proverb says : he
who has begun his work has accomplished the half of it.

332 • J°Y darkens the judgment as a cloud, for there
can be no rejoicing in created things without the attach
ment of the will. The negation and purgation of this
joy leave the judgment clear as the sky when the mist
has been scattered.

333. He who is detached is not molested when he
prays, nor at any other time, and so without wasting
his time he gains with ease great spiritual treasures.

AVARICE

334. Although temporal goods are not, in themselves,
necessarily, occasions of sin, yet ordinarily, by reason of
our frailty, the heart of man sets its affections upon them,
and falls away from God, which is sin : for this reason
the Wise Man saith : the rich shall not be free from sin.*

335. The things of this world neither occupy nor

* Ecclus. xi. 10.

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 243

injure the soul ; it is not they that enter into it, but rather
the will, and the desire of them, which dwell within it.

336. Our Lord Jesus Christ, in the gospel, calls riches
thorns, giving us to understand that he who sets his will
upon them shall be wounded by sin.

337. It is vanity to desire to have children, as some
do, who weary the world with their fretting for them :
they know not if their children will be good, and servants
of God : neither do they know whether the pleasure they
expect from them may not be turned into disquietude,
pain, and trouble.

338. The covetous man runs to and fro within the
limits of the chain by which his heart is bound, and with
all his efforts can scarcely set himself free, even for a
moment, from the bondage of his thoughts on which his
heart is set.

POVERTY OF SPIRIT

339. Consider how very necessary it is for you to
set your face against yourself, and walk in the way of
penance if you would attain to perfection.

340. If any one tempts you with lax opinions, and
should even confirm them by miracles, trust him not ;
but rely rather upon penance and perfect detachment
from creatures.

244 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

341. God in His law commanded the altar of sacrifice
should be empty within. This is to teach us that He
would have the soul emptied of all things, that it may
be an altar worthy of His Majesty.

342. One desire only does God allow, and suffer in
His presence within the soul — the desire of keeping the
law perfectly, and carrying the cross of Christ. It is not
said, in the sacred writings, that God commanded any
thing to be laid up in the ark with the manna except the
book of the law and the rod of Moses, a type of the cross
of Christ.

343. That soul which has no other aim than the
perfect observance of the law of our Lord, and the carry
ing of the cross of Christ, will be a true ark containing
the true manna, which is God.

344. If you wish devotion to be born in your heart,
the love of God to grow, together with the desire for
divine things, cleanse your soul from every desire and
self-seeking, so that nothing of the kind remain with you.
For as a sick man, freed from the evil humours which
troubled him, feels instantly returning health and a taste
for his food, so shall you recover your health in God if
you rid yourself of your spiritual disorders : and if this
be not done, whatever you may do, you will make no
progress.

345. Live in this world as if God and your soul only

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 245

were in it ; that your heart may be a captive to no earthly
thing.

346. Do not weary yourself to no purpose, nor seek
spiritual joy and sweetness, unless it be by denying
yourself in that which you aim at.

347. If you would attain to holy recollection, it must
be by rejecting, and not by admitting.

348. Be interiorly detached from all things, and do
not set your affection upon any temporal thing, and your
soul will gather in a harvest of blessings beyond its
comprehension.

349. The goods of God, which are beyond all measure,
can be contained only in an empty and solitary heart.

350. So far as it lies in your power, refuse nothing
asked of you, though you may have need of it yourself.

351. He will never attain to perfection who will not
labour to be satisfied with this : that all his natural and
spiritual desires should be satisfied in the absence of
everything which is not God. This is most necessary for
abiding peace and tranquillity of spirit.

352. Let your soul be always ordered by a desire not
for that which is easy, but for that which is most difficult ;
not for that which is most pleasant, but for that which
is most unpleasant ; not for that which is elevated and
precious, but for that which is vile and despised ; not for
great things, but for little things : not to seek for any-

246 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

thing, but to seek for nothing ; not for that which is
best, but for that which is worst ; desiring to enter, for
the love of Jesus, upon detachment, emptiness, and
poverty in everything in this world.

353. If you will cleanse your soul of strange posses
sions and desires, you will understand all things
spiritually ; and if you will restrain yourself from setting
your heart upon them, you will rejoice truly in them,
and understand them certainly.

354. All people will be your servants, and all things
will minister to you, if only you will forget them and
yourself.

355. You will never have to do with necessities greater
than those to which you made your heart yield itself : for
the poor in spirit are most happy and joyous in a state
of privation ; and he who has set his heart upon nothing,
finds fulness everywhere.

356. The poor in spirit give generously all they have,
and their pleasure consists in being thus deprived of
everything for God's sake, and out of love to their neigh
bour, ordering all things by the law of this virtue.

357. Poverty of spirit looks to the substance of
devotion solely, and making use only of what is sufficient
for it, is weary of the multiplicity and curiosity of visible
means.

358. A soul withdrawn from exterior things, detached

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 247

from its own will, even in divine things, will not be raised
by prosperity nor subdued by adversity.

359. The poor that are naked shall be clothed ; and
the soul that will strip itself of all its desires, likings, and
dislikings, God will clothe with His own purity, His own
joy, and His own will.

360. The love of God in a pure and simple soul,
detached from every desire, is frequently in act.

361. Restrain your desires, and you will find that
which your heart longs for : how can you tell that your
desire is according to the will of God ?

362. If you desire to have your soul in peace and
comfort, and to serve God in truth, do not rest satisfied
with what you have done in the way of self-denial, for it
may be that on the new road you have entered, you may
find yourself as much hindered, or even more than you
were ; but give up everything that you have.

363. If you fail in the practice of self-denial, which is
the sum and root of virtue : every other way is but
beating the air, and you will make no progress, not
withstanding most profound meditations and communi
cations.

364. Not only do temporal goods, the delights and
the tastes of sense, hinder and thwart the way of God,
but spiritual delights and consolations also, if sought for,
or clung to eagerly, disturb the way of virtue.

248 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

365. Such is the nature of our vain concupiscence
that it clings to everything : like the dry-rot, which
wastes away what is sound, it has its way both in what
is good and what is bad.

PRAYER OF THE ENAMOURED SOUL

O Lord God, my Love, if Thou art still mindful of my
sins, and wilt not grant my petitions, Thy will be done,
for that is my chief desire. Show Thou Thy goodness
and mercy, and Thou shalt be known by them. If it be
that Thou art waiting for my good works that in them
Thou mayest grant my petition, do Thou give them and
work them in me : send also the penalties which Thou
wilt accept, and do Thou inflict them. But if Thou art
not waiting for my good works ; what art Thou waiting
for, O most merciful Lord ? why tarriest Thou ? For if
at last it must be grace and mercy, for which I pray in
Thy Son, do Thou accept my worthless offering, accord
ing to Thy will, and give me this good also according
to Thy will. O Lord Almighty, my spirit has fainted
within me because it has forgotten to feed upon Thee. I
knew Thee not, O my Lord, when I went after vanity.

2. Who can free himself from base and mean ways, if
Thou, O my God, wilt not lift him up to Thee in pure
love? Thou hastenest joyfully and lovingly, O Lord,

SPIRITUAL MAXIMS 249

to raise up him who has offended Thee, but I make no
haste to honour and raise him up who has offended
me. How shall a man raise himself up to Thee, for
he is born and bred in misery, if Thou wilt not lift
him up with the hand that made him ? O Lord
Almighty, if the shadow of the power of Thy justice in
earthly sovereigns who govern and rule the nations can
do so much, what cannot Thy almighty justice do,
dealing with the just man and the sinner ?

3. O Lord my God, Thou art not estranged from him
who does not estrange himself from Thee. How is it
that men say Thou art absent ? O Lord my God, who
is there that seeks Thee in pure and true love, who does
not find thee to be the joy of His will ? It is Thou who
art the first to show Thyself, going forth to meet those
who desire to meet Thee. Thou wilt not take away from
me, O my God, what Thou hast once given me in Thy
only begotten Son Jesus Christ, in Whom Thou hast
given me all I desire. I will therefore rejoice, Thou wilt
not tarry if I wait for Thee. Wait in hope then, O my
soul, for from henceforth thou mayest love God in thy
heart.

4. The heavens are mine, the earth is mine, and the
nations are mine : mine are the just, and the sinners are
mine : mine are the angels, and the Mother of God ; all
things are mine, God Himself is mine and for me, be-

250 SPIRITUAL MAXIMS

cause Christ is mine, and all for me. What dost thou
then ask for, what dost thou seek for, O my soul ? All
is thine, all is for thee ; do not take less, nor rest with the
crumbs which fall from the table of Thy Father. Go
forth and exult in thy glory, hide thyself in it, and
rejoice, and thou shalt obtain all the desires of thy
heart.

5. O sweetest love of God, too little known ; he who
has found Thee is at rest ; let everything change, O
my God, that we may rest in Thee. Everywhere with
Thee, O my God, everywhere all things with Thee as
I wish. O my Love, all for Thee, nothing for me :
nothing for Thee, everything for me. All sweetness and
delight for Thee, none for me : all bitterness and trouble
for me, none for Thee. O my God, how sweet to me
Thy presence, who art the sovereign Good. I will draw
near to Thee in silence, and will uncover Thy feet,* that
it may please Thee to unite me to Thyself, making my
soul Thy bride : I will rejoice in nothing till I am in Thine
arms. O Lord, I beseech Thee, leave me not for a
moment, because I know not the value of my soul.

* Ruth iii. 7, 9.

POEMS

251

POEMS
THE DARK NIGHT

I DEPARTED in the darkness

With the pains of love oppressed,

Happy lot ! for none observed me ;
All my house was then at rest.

By the ladder that is secret,
In the darkness on I pressed,

Through the night, disguised in safety,
All my house was then at rest.

Unobserved and unobserving
In the silent blissful night ;

And in my heart the fire burning
Was my only guide and light.

To the place where He was waiting,

Safely guided on the way
On I went ; the light was brighter

Than the sunshine of mid- day.

Night that led to my Beloved, —
Guide and light upon the way —

And made us one ; night more lovely
Than the dawn of coming day.

On my breast with flowers covered,
Which for Him alone I kept,

I caressed Him ; and the cedars

Waving fanned Him while He slept.

253

254 POEMS

When His tresses were disordered
By the motion of the air,

Then I fainted, and He struck me
With His hand so soft and fair.

Self-forgetting, there I rested
On my love reclined my head,

All anxieties discarded

Mid the lilies round me spread.

SONG OF THE SOUL AND ITS BRIDE
GROOM

1 O MY love, where art Thou hiding ?

Why hast Thou forsaken me ?
Thou hast left me to my sorrow,

To bewail my loss of Thee.
Thou hast wounded me and swiftly

As the hart hast fled away.
I pursued Thee, crying loudly,

Thou wert gone, and wouldest not stay.

2 O ye shepherds, I entreat you,

As you wend your watchful way,
To the hill, amid the sheepcots

Every night and every day,
Tell my love, if you shall see him,

Of the state in which I lie,
Of my longing, and in longing

That I languish, pine, and die.

3 In my quest of Him no mountains,

Nor wide plains shall me delay;
I will never stoop to gather
Even a flower on the way.

POEMS 255

I will cross the frontiers boldly,

Nor shall giants hold me back,
And if savage beasts surround me

I shall dread not their attack.

O ye trees of trackless forests,

And ye thickets of the land ;
Shade and shelter for the weary,

Planted by His loving hand.

0 ye meadows, fresh and verdant,
Pictures of the land above,

Decked with flowers bright and fragrant
Tell me, have you seen my Love ?

THE CREATURES ANSWER

We have seen Him ! we have seen Him !

O ! the beauty of His face !
Moving through the groves, and pouring

Down the treasures of His grace.
Hastening on, He looked upon them —

O ! that look ! how full of love—
And the groves became more lovely

With a beauty from above.

THE BRIDE

1 am wounded ; who can heal me ?
Sorrow-laden, lone, and sad ;

Longing for Thy wonted presence,

That alone can make me glad.
Come Thyself, and do not tarry ;

Send no messengers to me ;
They are powerless to tell me

Aught that I would know of Thee.

All who serve Thee — men and angels —

Each in his determined place
Speak to me, with voice unceasing,

Of Thy comeliness and grace.

256 POEMS

They but make my wound still greater,
There is that beyond my reach

And leaves me dead ; what I know not,
For they stammer in their speech.

8 O my life, how thou persistest

In continuing the strife,
For by living on thou livest

Where is not thy real life.
All thou knowest of thy Lover

Are as arrows in thy heart
Sent to slay thee ; then how is it

Thou abidest as thou art ?

9 My Beloved, Thou hast planted

In my heart the darts of love ;
Why dost Thou refuse to heal it

With the unction from above ?
Now that Thou hast robbed me of it — •

I in desolation left —
Why hast Thou not taken it with Thee

And thus perfected the theft ?

10 Tribulations overwhelm me

By anxieties oppressed ;
Thou alone canst free me from them,

Therefore give me peace and rest.
Let mine eyes then look upon Thee,

For it is by Thee they see ;
They are Thine, and Thou hast made them,

I will keep them all for Thee.

11 O that Thou the clouds would'st scatter

That between us darkly lie,
Show Thy face, and in the beauty

Of the vision let me die.
For the beatific vision

That makes glad the saints above,
Is the only perfect healing

Of the malady of love.

POEMS 257

12 Crystal spring of limpid waters

Unexhausted in its flow ;

0 that on thy silvered surface,

As a mirror, Thou would'st show
Unto me those eyes so lovely,

And which I so long to see,
For their image is already

Outlined on my heart from Thee.

13 My Beloved, look not at me

With those eyes so full of love ;

1 am flying, overpowered.

THE BRIDEGROOM

O return to me, my dove ;
On the hill the hart is looming,

And the arrow to it clings
In the air refreshed that stirreth

By the motion of thy wings.

THE BRIDE

14 My Beloved is the mountains —

They reveal Him unto me —
And the lonely wooded valleys

With the islands of the sea,
Strange and lovely ; and the murmur

Of the waters as they flow,
And the sweet entrancing whisper

Of the winds that softly blow.

15 My Beloved is the silent

Tranquil night before the morn;
Ere the ruddy dawn approaches

And another day is born.
He is music that is soundless ;

In the wilderness a voice,
And the supper that refresheth

Making hearts that love rejoice.

17

1 6 Who will catch for us the foxes

That so cunningly repair
To the vineyard Thou hast planted,

Now so fruitful and so fair ?
While we move among the flowers

And our hands with roses fill,
For the making of a garland

Let none appear on the hill.

Chilling north wind, from thy caverns

Send no more the blasts that kill;
Come thou south wind, love enkindling,

And the air with odours fill.
There among the fragrant flowers

My Beloved will abide,
And will feed among the lilies

In the garden of His bride.

1 8 Now the rose trees and the flowers

Bloom and blossom in their beds,
And around the fragrant amber

Its delicious perfume sheds.
Nymphs of Juda come not nigh us,

In the suburbs still remain ;
That ye may not touch the threshold

Of our house, your feet restrain.

19 Hide Thyself, then, my Beloved,

And let none Thy presence trace,
Keep for me alone the secret;

To the mountains turn Thy face ;
But with loving eyes regarding,

Look on those who wait on me
On my way among the islands

Of a strange and stormy sea.

POEMS

THE BRIDEGROOM

20 Cruel lions of the forest,

Crouching in their secret lair;
Fawns and does so wild and restless

And all the birds of the air.
Nightly terrors that alarm us,

Gloomy valleys, lowly plain,
Burning heat and lofty mountains,

Howling winds and driving rain.

21 By the music of the viols,

By the siren's soothing strain,
I adjure you and command you

From your fury to refrain.
Cease your clamours, come not nigh us,

At a distance still abide,
And occasion no disturbance

Of the slumbers of the bride.

22 Now the garden sheds its perfume,

For the winter's cold is past,
And the bride in all her beauty

Has come into it at last.
There, content among the lilies,

In the everlasting arms,
She is tranquilly reposing,

Henceforth free from all alarms.

23 When I saw thee wan and weary.

Underneath the apple tree;
I held out My hand in pity,

And betrothed Me unto thee.
When thy mother deluded fell.

In the snare the traitor laid,
There the price of thy redemption,

In My bitter death was paid.

259

260 POEMS

THE BRIDE

24 Dens of lions are the fences

That protect the bridal bed
Hung with purple : fragrant flowers

All around their perfume shed.
It was wrought in peace and quiet,

Who will touch it ? None so bold,
For its manifold adornments

Are a thousand shields of gold.

25 They are running in Thy footsteps,

On the road which Thou didst tread
In the odour of the ointment

That was poured upon Thy head.
The burning fire now has touched them

And the inner furnace glows;
And the strengthening wine is tasted,

While the heavenly balsam flows.

26 My Beloved gently led me

By the hand, O love divine !
Placed me in the inner cellar

Where I drank the wondrous wine.
Coming forth I wandered lonely

O'er the plain, and knew no more,
Having lost the flock I followed

In the days that went before.

27 He embraced me there and taught me

Sitting humbly at His feet,
Wondrous secrets of His wisdom :

And the learning is so sweet.
There I also made a promise

I would be His faithful bride,
True and constant ; by that promise

I will stedfastly abide.

POEMS 26l

28 My Beloved is my Bridegroom

And my Lord — O what a joy !
I will henceforth all the powers

Of my soul for Him employ.
And the flock that once I tended,

Now I tend not as before,
For my only occupation

Is to love Him more and more.

29 I have gone away for ever

From the haunts of idle men,
And a sharer in their follies

I will never be again.
They may say, and say it loudly,

I am lost; but I am not;
I was found by my Beloved,

O how blessed is my lot !

30 We will go in early morning

While the dew is on the ground,
To the garden where the flowers

In their beauty may be found ;
And will make a garland of them

In which emeralds shall shine
Knit and bound and held together

By a single hair of mine.

31 By that single hair that fluttered

On my neck and seen by Thee —
Thou did'st look again upon it

And wert by it drawn to me.
Thou wert made a willing captive.

Weak and slender though it be,
And I dared to look upon Thee,

And in looking wounded Thee.

32 While on me Thine eyes were resting,

Full of sweet and gracious love,
They impressed on me their beauty ;
Heavenly beauty from above.

262 POEMS

Then Thy love flowed in upon me
And mine eyes obtained the grace

What they saw in Thee to worship,
O the beauty of Thy face.

33 I was once unclean -and swarthy,

In a miserable plight ;
Yet I pray Thee not to spurn me,

Or to cast me from Thy sight.
Of my former degradation,

There remaineth not a trace,
For Thine eyes have rested on me,

Shedding comeliness and grace.

THE BRIDEGROOM

34 The little dove, white and stainless,

Wings her way, returning now,
To the ark of safety, bearing

In her mouth the olive bough.
Now her melancholy cooings

Will the turtle dove abate,
On the verdant banks rejoicing

In the presence of her mate.

35 Now the little dove was living

In her solitude at rest ;
For in solitude, contented,

She had built herself her nest.
Tke Beloved had been leading

Into solitude the dove,
And in solitude was wounded

With the arrows of her love.

THE BRIDE

36 In our common love rejoicing,

My Beloved, let us go
To the summit of the mountain
Whence the limpid waters flow.

POEMS 263

To the hill of contemplation,

There each other to behold
In Thy beauty : — Let us enter

Into mysteries untold.

37 We will go at once together,

My Beloved and His bride,
To the dark and secret caverns

Of the rock, and there to hide.
Into those mysterious caverns

Where no earthly light can shine,
We will enter — there in secret

We will taste the heavenly wine.

38 For within those secret caverns

Thou Thyself wilt shew to me,
That which I am always longing

In my inmost heart to see.
In the innermost recesses

Of the caverns Thou wilt give,
What the other day Thou gavest,

O my life ; in Thee I live.

39 I shall breathe the air that quickeneth,

And the nightingale shall sing ;
In my raptured ear, the music

Of her voice shall sweetly ring ;
Pleasant grove and all its beauty,

With the marvels it contains,
In the night ; with the fire burning

That consumes and never pains.

40 I went in with my Belored,

Seen by no created eye,
Nor with all his strength and cunning

Durst Aminadabad come nigh.
Then the siege was intermitted,

Then abandoned by the foe ;
And the cavalry dismounted

When it saw the waters flow.

264 POEMS

THE LIVING FLAME OF LOVE

: O LIVING flame of love,

How painless is the smart,
Thy tender wounds create

Within my very heart ;
Oh end at last the weary strife
And break the web of this my life.

O gentle hand and touch,

O wound in sweetness rife,
O burning, a foretaste

Of everlasting life.
The debt is paid that long was due,
And death by death brings life anew.

O lamps of fire that burn,

Illumining the night,
Sense in its caverns glows

With unaccustomed light.
They once were dark but now are bright,
And to my Love give warmth and light.

How loving Thou dost lie

Awake within my breast,
And by Thyself alone,

In secret there at rest.
The sweetness of Thy blissful breath
Makes strong my love ; and strong as death.

A SOUL LONGING FOR THE VISION
OF GOD

I LIVE, and yet not I,

In a manner hoping

That I am dying because I am not dead.

POEMS

I

I am not now living in myself,
And without God I cannot live ;
For without Him, I am also without myself.
This life of mine, what is it ?
A thousand deaths to me ;
For I am waiting for my very life,
Dying because I am not dead.

ii

This life that I am living
Is a lifeless life.
And so a death continuing,
Until I come to live with Thee.

0 God, hear Thou my cry !
This life of mine I will it not;

1 die because I am not dead.

in

When I am away from Thee,
What is my life to me ?
The agony of death.
None greater have I ever seen.
O, wretched that I am !
For while I am living on
I die because I am not dead.

iv

The fish that from the water leapeth
Is not without relief ;
The death that it endures;
Does end in death at last.
What death can ever equal
My misery of life ?
For I, the more I live, the more I die.

265

266 POEMS

When I see Thee in the Sacrament

And begin to be relieved,

The absence of fruition

Creates a deeper pang ;

All brings greater pain,

And the pain is so bitter

That I am dying because I am not dead.

VI

And if, O Lord, I have a joy
In the hope of seeing Thee ;
My sorrow is increased,
Because I fear to lose Thee.
Living in dread so great
And hoping as I hope,
I die, because I am not dead.

VII

From this death deliver me,

O God, and give me life,

Nor let these fetters hold me ;

They are so strong :

Behold, I die to see Thee,

And in a manner hoping

That I am dying, because I am not dead.

VIII

My death I will bewail then,
And lament my life
By reason of my sins
Still here prolonged.

0 my God, when shall I be there
Where I may truly say,

1 live at last because I am not dead ?

POEMS 267

ECSTASY OF CONTEMPLATION

I ENTERED, but I knew not where,
And there I stood nought knowing,
All science transcending.

i

I knew not where I entered,

For, when I stood within,

Not knowing where I was,

I heard great things.

What I heard I will not tell :

I was there as one who knew not,

All science transcending.

ii

Of peace and devotion
The knowledge was perfect,
In solitude profound ;
The right way was clear,
But so secret was it,
That I stood babbling,
All science transcending.

in

I stood enraptured

In ecstasy, beside myself,

And in my every sense

No sense remained.

My spirit was endowed

With understanding, understanding nought.

All science transcending.

IV

The higher I ascended
The less I understood.
It is the dark cloud
Illumining the night.

268 POEMS

Therefore, he who understands,
Knows nothing ever
All science transcending.

He who really ascends so high
Annihilates himself,
And all his previous knowledge
Seems ever less and less ;
His knowledge so increases
That he knoweth nothing,
All science transcending.

VI

This knowing that knows nothing

Is so potent in its might

That the prudent in their reasoning

Never can defeat it ;

For their wisdom never reaches

To the understanding that understandeth nothing,

All science transcending.

VII

This sovereign wisdom

Is of an excellence so high

That no faculty nor science

Can ever unto it attain.

He who shall overcome himself

By the knowledge which knows nothing,

Will always rise all science transcending.

VIII

And if you would listen ;

This sovereign wisdom doth consist

In a sense profound

Of the essence of God :

It is an act of His compassion,

To leave us, nought understanding,

All science transcending.

POEMS 269

THE SAME SUBJECT

IN an act of daring love,

And not of hope abandoned,

I mounted higher and higher,

So that I came in sight of the prey.

ii

That I might come in sight

Of that prey divine,

I was forced to fly so high

As to be lost to sight;

Yet in that act supreme

I grew weaker in my flight,

But my love was still so strong

That I came in sight of the prey.

in

When I ascended higher

My sight grew faint and dim,

And my greatest conquest

Was in the darkness made ;

But as my love was strong

Blindly forth I leapt,

I mounted higher and higher,

So that I came in sight of the prey.

IV

In a way most strange

I made a thousand flights in one,

For the hope that is from heaven,

What it hopes, attains ;

This was my only hope

And my hope was not in vain,

For I mounted higher and higher,

So that I came in sight of the prey.

270 POEMS

v

But the nearer I drew

In this act sublime,

The more lowly, base, and vile,

And humiliated I grew,

I sard, none can reach it ;

And abasing myself more and more

I mounted higher and higher,

So that I came in sight of the prey.

GOD THE SUPREME GOOD

WITHOUT support, and with support,
Without light and in darkness living,
I see myself wasting away.

i

My soul is detached
From every thing created,
And raised above itself
Into a life delicious,
Of God alone supported.
And therefore I will say,
That what I most esteem
Is that my soul is now
Without support, and with support.

II

And though I am in darkness,
In this mortal life
My misery is not so great :
For if I have not light
I have the life celestial;
For the love of that life,
In the excess of its blindness,
Keeps the soul submissive,
Without light and in darkness living.

POEMS 271

in

Love is doing this ;

I have known it since,

For be it ill or well with me

It makes all one joy.

It transforms my soul ;

And so in its sweet flame,

Which in myself I feel,

I see myself rapidly burning

And wasting away.

THE SAME SUBJECT

FOR all the beauty of the world
Never will I lose myself,
But only for that I know not,
Which happily is found.

Sweetness of good that is finite,

The utmost it can do

Is to pall upon the appetite

And vitiate the taste.

For all the sweetness in the world

Never will I lose myself,

But only for that I know not,

Which happily is found.

II

The generous heart

Will never rest

Where it can be at ease,

But only where it meets with difficulties

Nought can ever satisfy it ;

And its faith ascends so high

As to taste of that I know not,

Which happily is found.

272 POEMS

in

He that is on fire with love
Divinely touched of God
Receives a taste so new
That all his own is gone.
Like one who of a fever ill
Loathes the food before him,
And longs for that I know not,
Which happily is found.*

IV

Be not at this astonished,

That the taste should thus be changed

For the cause of this affection

From all others differs.

And so every thing created

Is an alien to it ;

And it tastes that I know not,

Which happily is found.

v

For when once the will
Has been touched of God,
It never can be satisfied
Except in God alone.
But because His beauty
Is such that faith alone can see it,
It tastes it in I know not what,
Which happily is found.

VI

And now of Him enamoured,
Tell me if you are in pain ;
For there is no sweetness
In any thing created.
Alone without form and figure,
Without support or rest,
Tasting there I know not what,
Which happily is found.

POEMS 273

VII

Do not think the inner heart,
Which is of priceless worth,
Rejoices or is glad
In that which here sweetness gives ;
But rather above all beauty raised
That is, can be, or has ever been.
Tastes there I know not what,
Which happily is found.

VIII

He who seeks a greater gain
Will rather turn his thoughts
To that he has not acquired
Than to that he has already.
And therefore for a greater venture
I shall always be inclined,
Neglecting all for that I know not,
Which happily is found.

IX

For all that in the way of sense
I may obtain on earth,
And all I may understand,
However high it may be —
For all grace and beauty —
Never will I lose myself ;
But only for that I know not,
Which happily is found.

SONG OF THE SOUL REJOICING IN
THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD BY FAITH

I KNOW the fountain well which flows and runs,
Though it be night.

18

274 POEMS

I

That everlasting fountain is a fountain hid,
And where it is I know well,
Though it be night.

ii

Its source I know not, because it has none ;

But I know that therein all things begin,

Though it be night.

in

I know that nothing can be in beauty like it,
And that of it heaven and earth do drink,
Though it be night.

IV

I know well it is of depths unfathomable,
And that none can ever sound it,
Though it be night.

Its brightness is never dimmed,
And I know that from it all light proceeds,
Though it be night.

VI

I know its streams are so abundant,
It waters hell and heaven and earth,
Though it be night.

VII

The torrent that from this fountain rises,
I know well is so grand and so strong,.
Though it be night.

POEMS 275

VIII

This everlasting fountain lies concealed
In the living Bread to give us life,
Though it be night.

IX

It calls on every creature to be filled
With its waters, but in the dark,
Though it be night.

x

This living fountain for which I long
I see in this Bread of life, I see it now,
Though it be night.

SONG OF CHRIST AND THE SOUL

i

A SHEPHERD is alone and in pain,
Deprived of aH pleasure and joy,
His thoughts on his shepherdess intent,
And his heart is by love most cruelly torn.

ii

He weeps, not because he is wounded with love,
And his distress brings him no pain,
Though a wound is made in his heart ;
But he weeps because he thinks he is forgot.

in

His beautiful shepherdess, so does he think,
Has forgotten him : that thought alone
Makes him suffer in the land of the stranger,
And his heart is by love most cruelly torn.

276 POEMS

IV

The shepherd exclaims, Ah wretch that I am !

For I am abandoned and left;

My presence is shunned by my love,

And my heart for her love is most cruelly torn.

At last he was raised on a tree,
Where he opened his beautiful arms,
And on it, he died,
His heart by love most cruelly torn.

THE MOST HOLY TRINITY*

(In principio erat Verbum).

IN the beginning was the Word,
The Word was God,
In Whom He possessed
Bliss everlasting.

ii

The Word was God,
He is the Beginning ;
He was in the Beginning,
And never began.

in

He was the Beginning itself,
And therefore had none ;
The Word is the Son,
From the beginning born.

* Composed while in prison at Toledo, 1578. (See Relation of
Maria del Sacramento, Escritoras espanolas, ii. 176.)

POEMS 277

IV

He has begotten for ever,

And is for ever begetting ;

He gives Him of His substance for ever,

And has it for ever Himself.

And thus the glory of the Son
Is that He hath in the Father,
And all His glory the Father
Hath in the Son.

VI

As the lover with his love,
Each in the other living,
So this Love which Both unites
Is One in Both.

VII

In dignity and might
Coequal with them Both,
Three Persons, and one Love,
The Three are One.

VIII

And in the Three one Love,
One Lover makes of All ;
The Lover is the Love
In Whom Each doth live.

IX

The Being which the Three possess
Each by Himself possesses,
And of the three Each loves the other
In that He hath this Being.

278 POEMS

x

This Being is Each One,
And alone makes Them One
In a way ineffable,
Beyond the reach of words.

XI

And so that Love which makes Them One

Is Infinite Itself;

For one. Love make One the Three,

And is their Being as well,

And that Love the more it makes Them One

The more It is Their Love.

THE COMMUNICATION OF THE THREE
PERSONS

IN the Love from. Both proceeding

It hath limits none.
Words of gladness spoke the Father

To His only Son.

ii

Words they were of joy profoundest,

Understood of none,
But of Him exulting in them,

Whose they were — the Son.

in

Of these words of gladness, only

This was heard by me —
Nought, my Son, can give Me pleasure

When I have not Thee,

POEMS 279

IV

But if aught should give Me pleasure,

That I seek in Thee,
He who gives to Thee most pleasure

Gives it most to Me.

v

He who Thee in nought resembleth

Cannot be like Me.
Life of Life, My whole rejoicing

Is alone in Thee.

VI

Thou art My Eternal Wisdom,
Thou, Light of My light;

In Thee, Figure of My substance,
Is my whole delight.

VII

Thee, My Son, he who loveth

Shall have love of Me
And the love wherewith I love him

Is My love of Thee.

So great, then, is My love of Thee, that he
Who loveth Thee shall be also loved by Me.

THE CREATION

i

O MY Son, I long to give Thee
In my love a loving bride,

Who shall by Thy goodness merit
With Us ever to abide;

280 POEMS

II

Who shall, at the heavenly banquet,
Eating of My bread with Me,

Learn to know the wondrous treasure,
That I have, My Son, in Thee;

in

And that in Thy grace and beauty,
As a glory round her shed,

She with Me may joy together.
Then the Son gave thanks and said

IV

On the bride which Thou wilt give Me
I My brightness will bestow,

So that she My Father's goodness
In its light may love and know ;

Learning also how My Being
From His Being doth overflow.

With My arms I will embrace her
And Thy love shall be her light,

So for ever shall Thy goodness
Be exalted with delight.

THE SAME SUBJECT

FOR the merits of Thy love, then,
' Be it done,' the Father said ;

In the word the Father uttered
All created things were made.

POEMS 28l

In the everlasting wisdom

Rose the palace of the bride,
Which -two substances created

In a twofold form divide.

in

With varieties unnumbered

Was the lower part arrayed,
While the higher glowed in beauty,

With the wondrous gems displayed.

IV

That the bride might know the Bridegroom
Who her heavenly nuptials graced,

The Angelic hosts in order

In the higher part were placed.

v

Man was placed — his nature lower —
In the lower part on earth,

Being fashioned of a substance
Which was of inferior worth.

VI

And although both place and nature
God in this way did divide,

Yet the two are, both together,
But one body of the bride.

VII

And the two, although divided,
Are one bride in His one love,

Who, in gladness, as the Bridegroom
Is possessed by those above.

282

POEMS

VIII

Those below in hope are living
Of the faith that He has given,

For one day He will exalt them —
He hath said so — unto heaven.

IX

For of those of base condition
He will take away the shame,

And exalt them, so that nothing
Shall remain to them of blame.

He in all things with their likeness
Will Himself one day invest ;

He will come and dwell among them,
As His own elected rest.

XI

God Himself will be incarnate,
God will have a human birth ;

Eating, He will come, and drinking,
And converse with men on earth.

XII

He will dwell Himself among them

And continually stay,
Till the final consummation —

When the ages melt away.

XIII

Then shall both rejoice together
In an endless life of bliss,

For to Him belongs the headship
Of the bride, and she is His,

POEMS 283

XIV

He shall bring the just together —
Nought shall them from her divide —

For they are the living members
Of the body of the bride.

xv

He will tenderly embrace her,
He will give her of His love,

And, united with Him, take her,
To His Father's home above.

XVI

Into joy shall she then enter :
God no greater joy can give ;

When absorbed in Him for ever
She the life of God shall live.

XVII

So the Father, Son, and Spirit,
Three in One and One in Three,

Live, Each living in the Other,
The most blessed Trinity

THE DESIRES OF THE HOLY
FATHERS *

WHEN the ancient saints were waiting,
Hope came down to their relief,

And made lighter by its presence
The sore pressure of their grief.

* Rorate coeli desuper et nubes pluant Justum. — Is. xlv. 8,

284 POEMS

But still, hope deferred, together
With the longing which they had

To behold the promised Bridegroom,
Made them sick at heart, and sad.

Ill

Pouring forth their supplications —

In their misery they lay,
Sighing, weeping, and lamenting,

With strong crying night and day, —

IV

That He would the times determine,
And among them come and stay ;

' O that I,' so one entreated,

' Might rejoice to see His day ! '

' Hasten, then, Thy work, and finish ;

Send Him, Lord, Whom Thou wilt send,
Was the cry of one. Another's,

' O that He the heavens would rend !

VI

' That I might behold His coming,
And my wail be turned to mirth ;

Let the clouds rain down the Just one,
So long desired on the earth ;

VII

' Let the earth which brought forth briers
Now break forth, and in their room

Let it bear the sacred flower
Which shall ever on it bloom.'

POEMS 285

VIII

Others also : ' O how blessed

Shall that generation be !
Which shall merit in time coming

God's Most Holy Face to see ; '

IX

' Men shall throng around, and touch, Him,

They shall in His sight remain;
In the sacraments rejoicing

He Himself shall then ordain.'

THE SAME SUBJECT

THESE and other supplications,

As the centuries rolled by,
Men poured forth : with greater fervour

As the promised time drew nigh.

ii

Aged Simeon in the furnace

Of his longing, burning lay,
Praying God that He would grant him

Of His grace to see that day.

in
And the Ever-blessed Spirit

Condescended to his cry ;
And consoled him with the promise

That the old man should not die

IV

Till he saw the Ever- living
God, descending from above,

Took Him in his arms and held Him,
And embraced Him in His love.

286 POEMS

THE INCARNATION

i

IN the fulness of the ages
Now had come the holy tide,

For the payment of the ransom
Of the long- expectant bride,

ii
Groaning in the house of bondage

Underneath the legal yoke
Of the precepts given by Moses,

When these words the Father spoke

in
' I, My Son, have in Thy likeness

And Thy image made Thy bride.
And in that resemblance worthy

To be ever at Thy side ;

IV

' But in one respect unlike Thee,
For her nature is not Thine :

She is flesh — her nature human —
While Thy nature is divine.

v

' Perfect love demands a likeness

In the lovers it unites,
For the most complete resemblance

Most aboundeth in delights.

VI

' Now the love and exultation
Of the bride would greatly grow

If she saw Thee in her likeness,
In the flesh, on earth below.'

POEMS 287

VII

Then the Son the Father answered :

' Lo ! My will is ever Thine,
And My glory which I cherish

Is that Thine is also Mine.

VIII

' I am ready at Thy bidding,

For Thy will is My delight,
To make known at once Thy goodness

And Thy wisdom and Thy might.

IX

' I will manifest Thy justice,

And proclaim throughout the earth
Thy supremacy and beauty

And the sweetness of Thy worth.

x

' I will go and seek My bride, then,

And upon Myself will take
All the poverty and sorrows

She now suffers for My sake.

XI

' And that I true life may give her,

I will give for her My own,
So shall I present her, rescued,

From the pit, before Thy throne.'

THE SAME SUBJECT

i

GOD then summoned the archangel
Holy Gabriel — him He sent

To the Blessed Virgin Mary
To obtain the maid's consent.

288 POEMS

ii
She consented : in that instant

The mysterious work was done,
And the Trinity a body

Wrought and fashioned for the Son.

in
In this wondrous operation,

Though the Sacred Three concurred,
He who in the womb of Mary

Was incarnate, is the Word.

IV

He Who had a Father only

Had a Mother also then :
But it was in other fashion

Than the manner is of men.

v
In the womb of Holy Mary

He His flesh did then receive :
So the Son of God Most Highest

We the Son of Man believe.

THE NATIVITY

i

Now at last the destined ages
Their appointed course had run,

When rejoicing from His chamber
Issued forth the Bridegroom Son.

ii

He embraced His bride, and held her
Lovingly upon His breast,

And the gracious Mother laid Him
In the manger down to rest.

POEMS 289

in
There He lay, the dumb beasts by Him,

They were fitly stabled there,
While the shepherds and the angels

Filled with melody *the air.

IV

So the feast of their espousals

With solemnity was kept;
But Almighty God, an infant ;

In the manger moaned and wept.

v
So the bride at her betrothal

Did the bridal gifts arrange ;
But the Mother looked in wonder

At the marvellous exchange.

VI

Man gave forth a song of gladness,
God Himself a plaintive moan ;

Both possessing that which never
Had been hitherto their own.

SUPER FLUMINA BABYLONIS *

; (Ps. cxxxvi.)

i

BY the waters of the river —
Close by Babylon it swept —

On the banks — my tears were flowing —
There I set me down and wept.

ii
I remembered thee, O Sion,

With thy love my heart was sore ;
Sweet to me was thy memorial,

So I wept still more and more,

* Composed while in prison at Toledo, 1578.
19

2C)O POEMS

in

Of my festal robes divested,
Those of woe around me flung,

While my silent harp suspended
From the willow branches hung.

IV

There I left it ; fondly trusting,
For my hopes in thee still lay.

Love my heart had deeply wounded,
And had carried it away.

So, I said, my wound is grievous ;

O let love me wholly slay.
Into its fires then I threw me,

That I might be burned away.

VI

Now the silly moth I blame not,
That in the fire seeks its death ;

For I, while in myself but dying,
Draw in thee alone my breath.

VII

I for thee to death submitted,
And for thee to life returned ;

For in thy most sweet memorial
Life and death were both inurned.

VIII

In their merriment exulting,

Heedless of their captive's wrongs,

Strangers bade me rise and sing them
Sion's old familiar songs.

POEMS 291

IX

Sing us of the songs of Sion ;

We would hear them — strange demand —
How can I, lamenting Sion,

Sing them in a foreign land ?

x

In the chants once so familiar
How can I uplift my voice ?

May they never be remembered
If in exile I rejoice !

XI

Let my tongue from speech refraining,
To my palate silent cleave ;

If I, in the land of exile,

Where I dwell alone and grieve,

XII

Even amidst the verdant bowers

Of the Babylonic land
Should forget thee. Let my right hand

Cease its cunning to command

XIII

If I make not thee, O Sion,
The beginning of my mirth ;

Or if I rejoice in keeping
Any festival of earth.

XIV

Thou, of Babylon the daughter,
Shalt lie prostrate in the dust,

Lost and wretched : but for ever
Blest is He in Whom I trust.

POEMS

xv

In the day of retribution
He will thee at last afflict ;

He will lay on thee the burden
Thou didst once on me inflict,

XVI

He will me, thy weeping captive,
With thy little children take,

And to Christ the Rock will bring them-
I have left thee for His sake.

SONG I
SI DE MI BAJA SUERTE

The Soul's Craving

IF in my lowly state

The flames of love had power

To swallow death,

And should they so increase

As to scorch up the waters of the sea —

II

And hence ascending,
Should set afire the triple elements,
And in its flames consuming them
Should make of them its fuel —
If all these flames were love,

in

I do not think that I—

Who feel such living thirst for love —

Could love as I desire !

Nor could the flames I number

But for a moment quench my longing.

POEMS 293

IV

For they, compared

With that eternal and transcendent fire,

Are of no more import

Than is an atom to the whole world's bulk,

Or than a drop of water to the ocean !

My heart of miry clay

Hath neither heat, nor more stability

Than hath the flowering grass

Which in the hour it blooms

Is battered by the winds and droops decayed.

VI

For never could

Its fiery blaze ignite

My heart as it desires

That it might reach the heights

Of that eternal Father of all lights.

VII

O wretched fate

Which gives to love wings so inadequate !

Not only do they fail to compass

Flight that is so sublime

As doth that love supreme deserve they should do,

VIII

But I perceive, alas !

The powers of my love are so curtailed

That in its feebleness,

With wings close clipped

I hardly reach to see God in the distance.

2Q4 POEMS

IX

Yet, if from my base sort

These flames of love could raise me,

Until I reached to gaze on Him,

And brought me to His presence,

So that my God should look upon them —

x

Oh ! by His fire eternal

Would they be caught, with force unspeakable,

At once absorbed,

Absorbed and swallowed up

And into everlasting flame converted.

XI

Wherein my flames being drawn

Into His flames converted

Consuming in His love,

Mine own flames burnt

Would become one with His most ardent love.

XII

Thus would be realised,

At length the deepest yearning of my breast,
Seeing myself at length made one with Him
With closest tie and wholly satisfied !

SONG II
MI DIGS Y MI SENOR, TENED MEMORIA

The Exiled Soul

i

MY God, my Lord, do Thou remember

That I by faith have gazed upon Thy Face —

Lacking which sight no bliss exists for me !

POEMS 295

ii

For since I saw Thee, live I in such sort
That there is naught can bring
Joy to my soul but for an hour, or moment !

in

God of my life ! nothing can make me glad,
For all my gladness springs from sight of Thee,
And faileth me because I have Thee not.

IV

If 'tis Thy will, my God, I live forlorn,

I'll take my longings even for my comfort

While dwelling in this world.

v

With me no happiness in aught shall bide
Except the hope of seeing Thee, my God,
Where I shall never dread to lose Thee more.

. vi

When shall there dawn that most delicious day
When, O my Glory, I may joy in Thee,
Delivered from this body's heavy load ?

VII

There will my bliss be measureless, entire,
At witnessing how glorious Thou art,
Wherein will lie the rapture of my life.

VIII

What will it be when I shall dwell with Thee,
Since suffering doth bring such happiness ?
Upraise me, now, O Lord, into Thy heaven !

IX

Yet if my life can bring increase of glory

To thine eternal Being,

In truth I do not wish that it should end.

296 POEMS

X

The unending moment of the bliss of heaven

Will end my pain and anguish

So that I shall remember them no more.

XI

I went astray because I served Thee not,

As I have gained by knowing Thee, my God !

Henceforth I crave to love Thee ever more !

SONG III
DECID CEILOS Y TERRA, DECID MARES

Desolation

I

TELL me, heaven, tell me, earth and ocean,
Say ye, mountains, valleys, little hillocks,
Tell me, vineyards, olive trees, and wheatfields,
Tell nse, O ye plants and flowers and meadows,

Answer, where is He
Who gave to you your beauty and your being ?

ii

Angels, ye who joy to look upon Him,
Blessed souls who love Him and possess Him,
Brides, who are desirous of the Bridegroom,
Striving to obtain His sweet caresses —

Tell me, where is He
Who gave to you your beauty and your being ?

in

Ah ! no answer cometh — all is silence !
Lord, when Thou speakest not, all else is mute !
My soul doth vainly seek for Thee within it,
My heart is empty, and of all bereft.

POEMS 297

IV

Ah ! woe is me ! if war should wage within me
Whom should I find to guard me ? whom to shield ?
Joy of my soul and Glory of my spirit,
If Thou wert absent, should I victor 'be ?

Tell me where Thou dost wander, O my Bridegroom,
Leaving in solitude the heart that loves Thee !
Where are Thy shining rays, Thou Sun resplendent,
Why hidest Thou Thy beams ?

VI

With anxious care Thou followest the sinner —

Why give no answer to the one who loves Thee ?

Why dost Thou hide Thy face, Thou Friend most cherished,

Holding me for Thine enemy ?

VII

Wherefore didst Thou depart in silence, leaving me

With no farewell ?

Be moved, Thou gentle Love, by the sad sighs

Of anguish, which break forth for Thy return.

VIII

Return to me, or bid me follow Thee,
Or bid me die ;

But force me not to live while lacking life ;
For sooth, I live not till I see Thee come.

IX

If Thou dost dwell enskied,

Let me have wings that I may fly to Thee

If in pure souls Thou find'st Thy resting place

Why dost not purify this poor polluted heart ?

298 POEMS

If Thou dost make Thy home within Thy creatures,
Reveal in which of them Thou dost repose !
Where is Thy habitation, tender Lover ?
The world, without Thee, holds no place for me !

XI

O ye birds, who warble forth sweet carols,
Serpents, animals, and scaly fish,
Tell me, an ye know, tell me, where is He
Who gave to you your beauty and your being ?

THE DARK NIGHT

Aquella niebla escura

I

THIS cloud of darkness
Is light divine, strong, beautiful,

Pure, inaccessible,

Delightful, intimate,
Being the sight of God and Him alone.

Which to enjoy
Reaches the soul, with love all set afire ;

Becoming blind,

Beholding naught,
The essence is transcended and attained.

in

When victory is won
Over the kingdom that was held by self,

She setteth forth unseen

By all, by all unnoticed,
Searching to find her God, by Him inflamed

POEMS 299

IV

In this departure
The soul goes out from self and takes her flight.

Seeking her life,

She rises to th'empyreal heaven,
Casting the veil from off her secret depths.

Though sallying forth
Incited by the mastery of her love,
Yet in herself she holds Him —

Being engaged
In joying o'er her Good, to Him united.

VI

She rests in peace.

All images have disappeared

The intellect grown blind
The passions quelled,

The powers perforce suspended.

VII

Her glory and her bliss
Were duly reached by stairs

In safety scaled ;

Divine the way,
Formed by Christ's Mysteries.

VIII

Now having reached
The longed-for end,

Resting in her Beloved, she holds
A ceaseless motion,
Being at peace and fully satisfied.

300 POEMS

IX

That night serene
In which her life and depths enjoy her God,

Freed from all pain,

She searches long and ardently within herself
And with desire goes forth to meet Him.

Love leads the way
Throughout the dense, dark cloud
And with no other teacher

She safely journeys
To where God doth reveal to her His beauty.

XI

On her trackless path,
Bereft of intellect and memory,

The King divine

Doth manifest His might and glory,
As far as may be in this mortal life.

XII

O crystal night !
Led by thy lovely glamour,

In union divine,
The Bridegroom and the bride
Are now but one.

XIII

While the soul
Rejoices over the eternal Word,

A gentle wind,
Stirred by God's Holy Spirit,
Delights her very centre.

POEMS 301

XIV

Alone they joy together
In a fair meadow by a wall enclosed,
While fragrant odours scent

The air serene,
Making it like no other earthly spot.

xv

The King in Whom she lives
In puissant power hath robbed her of herself.

Receiving her
As inmate of His palace,
Holds her bereft entirely of herself.

XVI

So great the strength
And force of Him to Whom she is united, —

So weak is she, —

That yielding up herself to Him, she loses
Her own existence, being one with Him I

OH SWEET DARK NIGHT

' Oh dulce noche escura I '

I

O SWEET dark night
Which brings no gloomy shades,
But rather, thine obscurity
The more it blinds, the more delights the soul.
And grows in beauty as it grows more dense.

ii

Divine privations,
Blest darkness, pleasant rest,
And secret inspirations !
Happy the soul made blind
By such refulgence— fortunate exchange !

3<02 POEMS

in

Denying self

That it may not deny the One Who ne'er denies.
It enters the delicious gulf
Of that blind night,
Where they who enter find a vivid light.

IV

In the hidden depths
Of this resplendent darkness,
Illumined by the Sun
Which dwelleth in her,
Night is made radiant day 1

O night of happiness

Which offers joy in such security

To the enamoured soul,

That she in slumber rests,

And day seems night to her !

VI

To reach this rest

She mounted by the secret, hidden stairs.

When in unconsciousness,

She on their summit slept,

The rays of life fell on her.

VII

That ladder of repose,

The beauteous Mysteries of Christ,

That lovely path,

Trod by His well- loved sons,

Wherein a thousand treasures are discovered !

POEMS 303

VIII

She soars aloft

By flight,

Having two lovely wings,

Yet, once arrived,

Their delicate plumes are scorched.

IX

There she in peace enjoys

The secret rays that stream from the Belovdd ;

And all her house and its inhabitants

Are fallen asleep,

Powerless and free from care.

x

In drowsy rest

The dwellers in her mansions leave her free

The Bridegroom opes and enters —

Yet when they are aroused

They murmur at their quick awakening.

XI

They enjoy His favours

In solitude, beholding not the Spouse,

For still these dwellers

Are lost in slumber

Nor do they make the slightest sound.

XII

Then the gentle bride,

Transformed and turned to her Beloved,

Lives and reposes in Him

And draws from Him her life,

Since her own life has been consumed

3°4 POEMS

XIII

While in this state

Has she repose, joy, life, and nourishment;

But on returning

To her former life,

She weeps because death lingers on its way.

XIV

Yet having wept,

Her graces still augmenting with her tears,

Her trials no longer grieve her,

For on suffering

She centres all her aims and all her love.

xv

Light in darkness ;

And darkness which withdraws not in the light ;

Distinctness in the mist !

The mist is manifest in light

In this abyss, and is not swallowed up.

XVI

For shade is set

O'er light divine by God's essence and presence ;

Thus, seen through clouds

By aid He gives in secret,

The soul can, while on earth, enjoy His presence.

THE SOUL'S DESIRE TO BE WITH CHRIST

Del agua de la vida

I

FOR the living waters
My soul was seized with thirst insatiate,
Yearning to quit
This body and its ills,
And quaff of the eternal waters.

POEMS 305

ii

Fain doth it desire

To see itself delivered from these gyves,

For life is tedious

Dragged on in exile
From that dear fatherland of fond delight !

in

Its present pains increase

By numbering o'er the blessings it has lost

And the heart breaks,

Wounded by piercing pain,
Despoiled of the possession of its God.

IV

Happy that soul and blest

Which dwelleth ever present with its God !

Aye, blest a thousandfold,

For from a fount it drinks
Which to the end of time shall never fail !

True fatherland 1

Thou solace of the souls that dwell in thee,

Assuaging to the full !

The just no longer weep
Within thy borders, but adore their God.

VI

Our earthly life,

Compared with thee, O never-ending life,
Is so contemptible
That we may truly say it is not life,
But death most burdensome !
20

306 POEMS

VII

O Life curtailed and hard !

When shall I see myself despoiled of thee ?

O narrow sepulchre !

When will the Bridegroom for so long desired
Upraise me from thee ?

VIII

O God ! when shall I be

Wholly inflamed with Thy most sacred love ?

Alas, when dawns the day

That I may say farewell to things created
And be transported to Thee in Thy glory ?

IX

When, Love, O when ?

When comes the time I shall enjoy such bliss ?

When comes that ' when *

That I this dross
Forsake, and when such glorious victory ?

X

When shall I be united

To Thee, good Jesus, with a love so strong

That no incitement of the world,

The flesh, e'en death itself,
Nor eke the devil, can suffice
To break the unison ?

XI

When, O my God, shall I be set on fire
With Thy sweet love's enkindling ?

When shall I enter in at last to joy ?

Or when be offered
Wholly upon love's altar and consumed ?

POEMS 307

XII

Oh that without delay

This loving love might all to ashes burn !

Ah, when shall I attain

To that most blessed state,
Never for all eternity to change again ?

XIII

My God, my only good,

My glory, and my comfort and my bliss,

Withdraw me from this mire,

This wretched earth,
To dwell in heaven with Thee for evermore !

XIV

Let me be one with Thee, my God,

Naught intervening, and withdraw Thou what impedes !

Thaw Thou my coldness,

Which doth now obstruct Thy love,
Curtailing its full measure !

xv

O that Thy love flamed with so fierce a glow
As to consume my heart !

That it dissolved

Or burnt me wholly
And struck from off my soul the body's yoke !

XVI

Ope, Lord, the portal of Thy love
To this poor wretch !

Give certain hope

Of everlasting love
To this weak, hapless worm of earth 1

308 POEMS

XVII

Delay Thou not to love

Nor to bestow a puissant love for Thee,

Nor tarry Thou to turn Thine eyes on me,

O God omnipotent,
Who stand for ever present in Thy sight !

XVIII

Thou bidd'st me call Thee,

And lo, I come with tears and cries to Thee !

Thou bidd'st me love,

And that is my desire !
But Thou, my Lord, till when ? O God ! till when,

XIX

Till when, wilt Thou delay to answer me ?
When give to me that love for which I crave ?

Return and gaze on me —

Behold I die—
And yet it seems Thou still dost fly from me.

XX

Ah, Lord eternal

My soul's delight, my glory.

Ah, sempiternal Bounty,

Day serene,
Thou Light, Thou Love, do not Thy grace postpone !

XXI

For Thee I'll sigh

While I am captive in this prison held !

Ne'er will I stay,

Recounting my petitions,
Until Thou hast raised up and crowndd me !

POEMS 309

XXII

If I forget Thee,

My God, my sweetest Love, Who wooest me,

May I into oblivion dark sink down,

Nor of entire creation let there be
One who of me, sad soul, takes any thought !

ENTRO EL ALMA EN OLVIDO

Ecstasy

i

RAPT in oblivion, the soul
Doth, in a single moment, learn
More than the busy brain and sense,
With all their toil, could ever earn.

ii

Mirrored within its God, it views
To-day, to-morrow, and the past,
And faith sees here, in time, the things
That through eternity shall last.

INDEX TO PASSAGES FROM HOLY
SCRIPTURE

Roman figures refer to the Stanzas of the " Living Flame of Loye " ; P. to
the " Instructions and Precautions " ; L. to the Letters ; M. to the
" Spiritual Maxims."

GENESIS

i. 3 : Let light be, III. 81

xv. 12 : Darksome horror, III. 7

xix. 26 : Into a pillar of salt, P. 3

EXODUS
xii. 35 : Spoiled the Egyptians, III.

41
xxxiii. 4 : Ornaments of gold and

silver, III. 41
22 : In a hole of the rock,

IV. ii

xxxiv. 6 : O Lord God merciful,
HI. 5

DEUTERONOMIUM
iv. 24 : A consuming fire, II. 3

JUDGES

xiii. 20 : The holocaust of Manue, I.
4

RUTH

iii. 7, 9 : Uncover thy feet, M.

(prayer) in fine

i KINGS

xv. 22 : Obedience rather than
sacrifice, P. i

3 KINGS

xix. ii : Whisper of a gentle wind,
II. 18

TOBIAS
vi. 8 : Laid upon coals, I. 20

xii. 13 : Temptations should prove,

II. 30
xiv. 4 : The rest of his life in joy,

II. 30

ESTHER

ii. 12 : For six months, III. 27
18 : The marriage of Esther, I.

9
iv. 1-6 : Mardochai weeping, II.

36
xv. 10 : Showed the wrath of his

breast, IV. 12

12 : I am thy brother, IV. 13
1 6 : As an angel of God, IV. 10

JOB

i. 8 : My servant Job, II. 31

x. 1 6 : Thou tormentest me, II. 13

xxiii. 6 : Weight of his greatness,

IV. 10
xxvi. 14 : A little drop of His word,

IV. 10
xxix. 1 8 : My glory shall always

be renewed, II. 43
xxx. 21 : Thou art changed, I. 20
xl. 18 : Shall sop up the river, III.

73

xii. 21 : Beams of the sun, III. 74
25 : He seeth every high thing,
III. 72

PSALMS

i. 3 : Shall prosper, II. 5
xi. 7 : Silver examined by fire, IJ.
32

312 INDEX TO PASSAGES FROM HOLY SCRIPTURE

xvi. 2 : My judgment cometh forth,

I- 35

3 : Thou hast tried me, I. 20
15 : When Thy glory shall

appear, I. 22
xviii. 3 : Night to night showeth

knowledge, III. 82
xxix. 12 : I will confess Thee, II. 43
xxx. 20 : Multitude of thy sweet
ness, II. 13
2 1 : In the secret of Thy face,

II. 19
xxxiv. 10 : Who is like unto Thee,

II. 24

xli. i : As the hart panteth, III. 22
8 : Deep calleth upon deep

III. 82
xliii. 23 : Arise, why sleepest Thou,

IV. 8
xliv. 10 : In vestments of gold, IV.

13
xlv. 5 : The violence of the river,

III. 8

Ixiii, 7 : Heart that is high, L. 2
Ixx. 20 : How great tribulations, II.

35

Ixxvi. 6 : The eternal years, II. 39
Ixxx. ii : Dilate thy mouth, L. 2,

10
Ixxxiii. 3 : My soul longeth, I. 35 ;

III. 22

Rejoiced toward the

living God, I. 7, 35
Ixxxiv. 9 : Peace unto His people,

HI. 38
Ixxxix. 4 : A thousand years, I. 30

9 : As a spider, I. 30
ciii. 32 : The earth trembles, II.

1 6
cvi. 10 : Sitting in darkness, III.

I5

cxv. 15 : Death of His saints, I. 28
cxviii. 71 : Hast humbled me, L.

(censure).
140 : My word a vehement

fire, I. 5
cxx. 4 : He shall not slumber, III.

48
cxxvi. i : Unless our Lord build

the house, III. 49
cxxxvi. 2 : Upon the rivers of

Babylon, Poems.

cxxxviii. 12 : The darkness as the
light, II. 35

PROVERBS
viii. 15 : Kings reign, IV. 4

31 : My delights with the
children of men, I. 9 ;
L. 2
xv. 27 : Keep a soul from sin, L.

(censure)
xvi. i : It pertaineth to men, III.

49

9 : The heart of man, III. 49
xviii. 12 : Before he be broken, L.
(censure)

ECCLESIASTES

ix. 17 : The words of the wise

III. 77
x. 4 : If the spirit of him that hath

power, II. 34
xii. 7 : Return to its earth, I. 29

CANTICLE OF CANTICLES

i. 3 : Draw me, III. 30
4 : I am black, II. 42
ii : At His repose, IV. 16
ii. 10 : Arise, my dove, I. 24

1 6 : My beloved to me, II. 44
iii. 5 : I adjure you, III. 55

6 : Aromatical spices, III. 30
iv. 15 : A well of living waters, III. 8
v. 6 : My soul melted, I. 8
vi. 3 : Terrible as an army, IV. 9
vii. 2 : Thy belly a heap of wheat,

III. 8
viii. 5 : Cometh up from the desert,

I. 21

6 : The lamps thereof, III.
6, 10

WISDOM

iv. 10 : Pleasing God, I. 33

12 : The bewitching of vanity,

III. 84

vii. 24 : Wisdom reacheth every
where, I. 1 8 ; IV. 6

26 : The mirror of God, III. 19

27 : The brightness of eternal

light, III. 19

viii. i : End unto end, II. 17
ix. 15 : The corruptible body, II,

14

xvi. 20, 21 : Sweetness of all taste,
III. 41

INDEX TO PASSAGES FROM HOLY SCRIPTURE

313

ECCLESIASTICUS

xi 10 : The rich not free from sin,

M. 334
xiii. i : He that toucheth pitch,

M. 145
xxxiv. 9 : What doth he know, II.

27 ; M. 276

li. 26 : Enlightened my ignorance,
III. 80

ISAIAS

iii. 14 : You have devoured the

vineyard, III. 59
viii. 6 : The waters of Siloe, III. 70
ix. 6 : The principality on His

shoulder, IV. 4
xxiv. 16 : Heard praises, I. 28

My secret to myself, M.

292

xxviii. 9 : Whom shall He teach
knowledge ? III. 40
xxxi. 9 : His furnace in Jerusalem,

I. 17

xl. 17 : No being at all, I. 30
xliii. 2 1 : This people have I formed,

III. 96
xlv. 8 : Drop down dew, Poem :

The Desires of the Holy

Fathers.
Iv. i : You that thirst, L. 10

xn. 5

xxiii. 29
xxxi. 1 8

JEREMIAS

In the pride of Jordan, II.

29

My words are fire, I. 5
Thou hast chastised me,.
II. 27

LAMENTATIONS
i. 13 : A fire in my bones, I. 20 ;

11.27

iii. i : I see my poverty, I. 20
20 : I will be mindful, III. 22

BARUCH
iii. 22 : Not seen in Teman, II. 18

EZECHIEL

i. 5 : The likeness of four living

creatures, III. 18
24 : Of many waters, III. 18

ii. i : The vision of the likeness,

III. 18
xxxiv. 2 : Woe to the shepherds

of Israel, III. 64
xxxvi. 25 : Clean water, III. 9

OSEE
ii. 14 : I will speak to her heart,

HI. 37, 58
xiii. 14 : I will be thy death, II.

41

HABACUC
ii. i : I will stand upon my watch,

HI. 39
iii. 6 : The nations melt, II. 16

II. MACHABEES

ii. i : The hidden fire, III. 9
22 : The water turned into fire,

III. 9

ST. MATTHEW

vi. 10 : Thy kingdom come, I. 24
33 : Seek first the kingdom of

God, P. 2
vii. 14 : How narrow is the gate,

^ III. 67

xiii. 31 : A grain of mustard seed,
II. ii

i- 35 :

. 5

ST. LUKE

Shall overshadow thee, III.

' 15

Labouring all the night, III.

w5<

xi. 52 : Woe to you lawyers, III. 66

ST. JOHN

i. i : In the beginning, Poem :

The most Holy Trinity
3 : Made in Him was life, IV. 3
5 : Darkness doth not compre
hend it, I. 20

iv. 14 : A well of water, III. 9
28 : Left her waterpot, I. 6
vi. 64 : His words are spirit and

life, I. 5, 29

67 : Disciples went back, I. 6
69 : The words of eternal life,
I. 6

314

INDEX TO PASSAGES FROM HOLY SCRIPTURE

vii. 38 : Out of his belly shall flow,
I. i

xiv. 2
17

Many mansions, I. 15
They shall know Thee,

II. 19
23 : And dwell with Him,

Prologue
xvii. 10 : All my things are Thine,

III. 91
26 : I in them, III. 94

ACTS

xiv. 21 : Through many tribula
tions, II. 25
xvii. 28 : In Him we live, IV. 3

ROMANS

viii. 13 : Deeds of the flesh, II. 37
14 : Led by the Spirit of God,
II. 40

i CORINTHIANS

ii. 10 : The Spirit searcheth all
things, II. 5

14 : The sensual man, III. 56,

84 >

15 : The spiritual man, II. 5
ix. 22 : All things to all men, III.

63

xiii. 5 : Seeketh not its own, I. 22
xv. 54 : Death is swallowed up, II.

2 CORINTHIANS
i. 7 : Partakers of the sufferings, II

v. i : A house not made wit!

hands, I. 25 ; II. 37
4 : Swallowed up of life, II. 41
xii. 9 : Virtue made perfect, II. 2

GALATIANS

ii. 20 : I live now, II. 41

vi. 17 : Marks of our Lord, II. 15

EPHESIANS

iv. 22 : Put off the old man, II.
24 : Put on the new man, II.

PHILIPPIANS
i. 23 : To be with Christ, I. 29

HEBREWS
i. 3 : Brightness of His glory, T.
17 ; IV. 4

ST. JAMES

i. 17 : Every best gift, III. 49
26 : This man's religion, P. 3

I. ST. PETER
i. 12 : On whom the angels, III. 2-

APOCALYPSE
ii. 17 : The white counter, II. 23

INDEX

Abram, III. 7

Anne of St. Albert, L. 5, 6, 7

— of Jesus (Jimena), L. 16

(Lobera), L. 4

- of the Mother of God, L. 7
Appetite, III. 20
Aridity, cause of, III. 35
Assuerus, III. 27
Attributes, the divine, III. 3
Awakening of the soul in God, IV. 8

Beatific vision, II. 37
Beatitude, III. 7

Beginners, proper work of, III. 32
Betrothal, the spiritual, effects of,

III. 25

Blacksmith, III. 45
Blindness, spiritual, III. 80-83
Breviary, II. 4
Burn, II. 3 ; healed by a fresh

wound, II. 7, 8

Cataract, the spiritual, III. 83
Catherine of Jesus. L. i
Caverns of sense, III. 20, 78
Centre of the soul, I. 14
Church, submission to, Prologue
Communications, divine, iv. 10
Contemplation, conditions of, III.

36 sqq. ; the highest wisdom, III.

40 ; the will active in, III. 52
Contemplative soul, how to be

directed, III. 42
Crystal, soul compared to, I. 16

Darkness, spiritual, III. 15 ; and
blindness, III. 80

Death, why the soul desires it,
I. 27-29

Debt, paid by divine love, II. 25

Deification of the soul, III. 88 sqq.

Depth, spiritual, I. 12 sqq.

Detachment, III. 55

Devil, a blind guide, III. 68, 70

Direction, spiritual, III. 29-77 »
change of, III. 35, 61, 62 ; evils
of ignorant, III. 56, 57 ; im
portance of, III. 32

Directors, qualities of, III. 32 ;
evils of ignorant, III. 44 sqq. ;
inexcusable, III. 61 ; all not
qualified, III. 62, 63 ; bad, III.
64 ; advice to, III. 41, 47

Doria, Father Nicholas, L. 8

Eleanor Bautista, L. 4
- of St. Gabriel, L. n
Eye of the intellect, III. 80, 83
Ezechiel, III. 18

Favour, no, too great for God to

bestow, Prologue
Fervour, when not to be sought,

HI. 35

Finite and infinite, III. 20
Fire, the divine, II. 3 ; sacrificial,

III. 9
Flame, the living, differs from

transformation, I. 2, 3 ; wounds

INDEX

the soul, I. 17 ; purifies, I. 19,

20 ; why called living, I. 7
Founders of religious orders, II. u
Francis, St., stigma, II. 12
Friendship, particular, dangerous,

P. i
Fruition and suffering compatible,

III, 26, 27

Gifts, three divine, II. i sqq.

God, an architect, III. 48 ; in
dwelling of, IV. 15 ; is His attri
butes, III. 3 ; light and heat,
III, 4 ; love of, contains all
blessings, I. 18 ; harmonises
with resignation, I. 22, 23 ; re
quires no distinct knowledge,
III. 50 ; perfect union with, II.
37 ; praise of, III. 96 ; presence
of, IV. 15 ; seeks the soul more
than it seeks Him, III. 30 ;
shadow of, III. 89 ; speaks to
pure souls, I. 5 ; when, III. 38 ;
splendours of, III. n ; trans
formation in, II. 39 ; words of,
sweet to some, tasteless to others,
I. 6

Gratian, Father Jerome, L. 8

Gratitude, III. 97

Gregory, St., II. 4 ; III. 24

Guidance, III. 29

Guides, three blind, III. 32 sqq.

Hand, the, of the Father, II. 1 6

Heredia, Anthony de, L. 8

Holy Ghost, encounter of, I. 34 ;
festival of, I. 10 ; guide to per
fection, III. 31, 47 ; love of,
I. 4 ; unction of, III, 28 ; His
work in the soul begins pain
fully but ends joyfully, I, 19

Hope, implies a want, I. 22

Ignorance, III. 67
Illumination, III. 48
Intellect, III. 22

Jealousy of confessors, III. 64
Jeremias, fire of, III. 9
Job, II. 31
John Evangelist, Father, L. 14

Lamps, the, two properties of, III.

3; of fire, III. 2 sqq. ; splendours

of, III. ii
Life everlasting, foretaste of, II. 2^
Love, degrees of, I. 15, 16 ; like a

flame of fire, I. 9 ; marks of, III

2 ; perfect, value of acts of, I

3 ; acts of perfect love ascend
to God, I. 4 ; perfect return of
III. 88

Magdalen of St. Gabriel, L. 15

— of the Holy Ghost, L. 13
Manue, I. 4

Mardochai, II. 36

Mariano, Ambrose, Father, L. 8

Marriage, spiritual, and betrothal

III. 26
Mary of St. Francis, L. 15

— of the Incarnation, L. 17

— of Jesus, L. 12, 15
- of St. Paul, L. 15

— of the Visitation, L. 15
Meditation, when to be abandoned,

m. 35

Memory, III, 22
Mercado of Pefialosa, Dona Ana,
I. i ; L. 18

Don Luis, L. 18

Misdirection, III. 44, 58
Moses, III. 5
Mustard seed, II. n

Old man and new man, II. 38
Overshadowing, III. 15

Painter, III. 44

Painting, III. 76 ; P. i (in fine)
Patience, II. 30

Paul, St., marks of Passion, II 15 ;
all things to all men, III. 63

INDEX

317

Pedraca, Juani cle, L. 14
Penitents, true direction of, III

46, 47

Perfect, the, why so few, II, 28, 34

Perfection, requires time, III, 27 ;
evangelical, III. 49

Progress from meditation to con
templation, III. 35

Purgation, distress of the soul in,

11.27
Purgatory, how souls suffer in, II.

26
Purity, interior, II. 19; III. 84

Repose of the soul in God, III. 59

Samaritan woman, I. 6

Satan, a blind guide, III, 68, 70

Sculpture, III. 62

Self, a blind guide, III. 76

Senses, purified by penance, II. 26

Sensual man, III. 85

Shepherds, unfaithful, III. 64

Sight, conditions of, III. 81

Sinai, Mount, III. 5

Solitude, of contemplative souls,
HI. 43

Sorrow, turned into joy, II. 35

Soul, beauty of, III. 93, 94 ; in
vited to heaven, I. 24 ; joys of,
III. 8 ; love and desire of, under
the influence of the Holy Ghost,

I. 2, 3 ; no two souls alike,

III. 63
Spirit, its own blind guide, III.

76 ; God dwells in every, IV. 14
Suffering, sweet, II. 13

Teresa, St., II. 10 ; III. 25, 32, 50
Touch, the divine, II, 18-21 ; bliss

of, II. 22-24

Transformation in God, II, 39
Trials, necessary, II. 34
Tribulation, a great grace, II. 33
Trinity, Blessed work of, II. i, 2
Tyranny, III. 64

Unction of the Holy Ghost, III. 28
Understanding without under
standing, III. 50, 51
Union of pain and delight, II 14 ;
perfect, with God, II. 37 ; effect
of, IV. 3 sqq. ; lower degrees of,
IV. 18

Veas, nuns of, L. 2, 3
Veil of faith, IV. 7

Water, living, III. 9
Webs, the three, I. 25 sqq, ; break
ing of, I. 31
Will, III. 22
Woodcarver, III. 61
Word of God, how received, I. 5, 6
Wounds of the soul, I. 8 sqq.

Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.

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THE LIVING FLAME OF LOVE