Sermon XXIII. On the Mystical Meaning of the Garden, the Storeroom, and the Bedchamber

"The King hath brought me into His storerooms; we will be glad and rejoice in thee, remembering thy breasts more than wine."

"The King hath brought me into His storerooms." Behold, my brethren, the source of the odour! Behold the goal of the running! The Spouse has already told us that we are to run, and after what odours we are to run; but not till now has she mentioned whither we are to direct our running. Therefore, she now explains that we are to run to the King's storerooms, and under the influence of the odours proceeding thence; tor she, with her wonted sagacity, has been the first to detect the fragrance and is eager for admission to its source, so that she may enjoy the fulness thereof. But what are we to understand by these storerooms? For the present let us consider them as the Bridegroom's sweet-smelling promptuaries, so to speak, filled with odoriferous fruits of the soil, replenished with all manner of delights. It is in storehouses of this kind that all the more precious produce of the field and the garden are hoarded up and preserved. Here, then, is the goal of the running. But who are they that run? They are souls that are fervent in spirit. The Spouse runs, and so do the "young maidens." But the former runs more swiftly because she loves more ardently, and so reaches her destination more speedily. On her arrival, far from meeting with a repulse, she is not even kept waiting. The door is opened to her without delay, as to one of the household, as to one most tenderly and especially beloved, and most warmly welcomed. But what about the "young maidens"? They are following indeed, but far behind. For, being as yet weak, they cannot keep pace with the devotion of the Spouse, nor emulate her desire and her fervour. Therefore, thev arrive later and remain outside. But the charity of the Spouse is not at rest nor, as commonly happens, is she so elated with her good fortune as to forget them. Rather she consoles them and encourages them to bear with patience and equanimity both their disappointment and their separation from herself. She also tells them of the happiness she enjoys, for no other reason than that they may rejoice with her, because they feel firmly persuaded that, whatever graces and favours are bestowed upon their mother, they have a right to regard as in some sense their own. For she is not so intent upon her own advancement as to neglect the care of them, nor does she wish to procure any advantage to herself or to her private interests at their expense. Therefore, no matter how high above them the superiority of her merits raises her, she will most certainly feel obliged, through her charity and tender solicitude, to remain always with them. For it behoves her to emulate the example of her Beloved. And as He, whilst ascending to heaven, promised nevertheless to abide on earth with His disciples, even to the consummation of the world, so should she also combine a care for others with zeal for her own spiritual progress. Hence, whatever her distance from them, however far advanced beyond them, she can never lay aside her care, and her solicitude, and her affection for those whom she has brought forth in the Gospel; she can never forget her own flesh and blood.

She says to them, therefore, "Rejoice and have confidence. The King hath brought me into His storerooms. Consider yourselves introduced likewise. I, indeed, appear to be the only one brought in, but I am not the only one deriving benefit therefrom. For every advantage to me belongs equally to all of you. It is for you I advance, and amongst you I will share whatever beyond you I may chance to merit." Do you wish, my brethren, to know for certain that she spoke to them in this sense and with such loving affection? Then, listen to their reply: "We will be glad and rejoice in thee." "In thee," they say, "we will be glad and rejoice, since we have not yet deserved to experience such emotions in ourselves." And they immediately add, "remembering thy breasts." As if they should say, "Yes, we will patiently await thy coming, knowing that thou wilt return to us with full breasts. Then we hope to be glad and to rejoice; meanwhile we console ourselves with the memory of thy breasts." The words added, "more than wine," indicate that, by reason of their imperfection, they still relish the memory of carnal delights, yet acknowledge that the desire of these has been overcome by the abundant sweetness, which, as they know by experience, issues forth from the breasts of the Spouse. I should now discourse at length on these breasts, only that I recollect having treated of them sufficiently in a previous sermon. But see now how the young maidens presume with their mother, and how they reckon as their own her joys and her gains, and generously console themselves for their disappointment in not obtaining admittance by the thought of her success. Certainly, they could not be so bold with her, did they not recognise in her a mother. Attend to this, ye prelates, who are always ready to inspire your flocks with fear, but seldom to do them a service. "Receive instruction, ye that judge the earth." Learn how you ought to be the mothers rather than the masters of these committed to your care. Study, therefore, to make yourselves more loved than feared; and if, sometimes, there is need of severity, let it be the severity of a parent, not that of a tyrant. Show yourselves to be mothers in love and fathers in correction. Cultivate meekness, restrain your anger, put away the scourge of discipline and offer instead the breasts of affection. And let these breasts be enlarged with an abundance of milk, not dilated by the force of passion. Why do you lay your heavy yoke upon the people whose burdens it is rather your duty to bear? Why is it that the little one, bitten by the infernal serpent, avoids manifesting his condition to the priest, to whom he ought to run with more eagerness than to his mother's breast? If you be spiritual persons, instruct such in the spirit of mildness, each looking to himself, "lest he also be tempted." Otherwise, he "shall die in his iniquity," says the Lord, "but I will require his blood at thy hand." But of this later.

Now we have to try and discover what is the spiritual signification of these storerooms, as the literal sense of the text is manifest enough from the foregoing observations. In the following verses, theie is mention of a garden and of a bedchamber. I intend to treat of both of these in my present discourse, in connexion with the storerooms. For, by considering them together, We shall be able to make each of the three throw light on the others. And first, if you please, we shall seek in the Holy Scriptures for these three things, viz., a garden, a storeroom, and a bedchamber. For the soul that thirsts after God gladly rests and lingers in His inspired word, knowing that therein, without any doubt, she shall find Him for Whose company she yearns. Let the garden, then, symbolise the simple plain, historic sense. Let the storeroom represent the moral signification, and let the bedchamber typify the secret meaning only revealed to divine contemplation.

Not without reason, as I think, is the historic sense compared to a garden, because in it we find men of virtue, like to fruit-trees in the garden of the Bridegroom, in the paradise of God, from whose virtuous actions and holy lives we may gather the fruits of good examples. Does any one doubt that the good man is a tree planted by the hand of God? If so, let him listen to David, "And he shall belike a tree which is planted near the running waters, which shall bring forth its fruit in due season, and his leaf shall not fall off." Hear Jeremias singing in concert, in the same Spirit, and almost in the same words, "And he shall be as a tree that is planted by the waters, that spreadeth out its roots towards the moisture, and it shall not fear when the heat cometh." Again the Psalmist, "The just shall flourish like the palm-tree; he shall grow up like the cedar of Libanus." And again of himself, "But I (am) as a fruitful olive-tree in the house of God." The Scripture history, then, is a garden, and contains three divisions. In it are comprised the Creation of heaven and earth, the Reconciliation, and the Restoration. Creation may be considered as the sowing, or the planting of the garden, and Reconciliation as the growth of what has been sown or planted. For in the fulness of time, when the heavens dropped down dew from above and the clouds rained down the Just, the earth opened and budded forth the Saviour, by Whom was effected the Reconciliation of heaven and earth. "For He is our peace, Who hath made both one," "making peace through the Blood of His cross, both as to the things on earth, and the things that are in heaven." The Restoration is reserved until the end of the world. For then there shall be a "new heaven and a new earth," and the good shall be collected from out the midst of the wicked, as fruit from the garden, to be laid up in the divine storehouses. "In that day," so Isaias, "the bud of the Lord shall be in magnificence and glory, and the fruit of the earth shall be high." You have, consequently, three distinct departments in this garden of the historic sense.

In the moral signification, likewise, three things have to be noticed, as it were three cellars in the same storehouse. And perhaps this is the reason why we have "storerooms" in the plural, rather than "storeroom," to indicate, namely, the number of cellars. Hence, later on, we shall hear the Spouse boasting of the fact that she has been brought into the wine-cellar. We are told in Proverbs, "Give occasion to a wise man, and wisdom shall be added to him." Therefore, as the Holy Spirit has given the occasion in the name which it has pleased Him to impose on this cellar, let us not hesitate to give names to the other two also, calling one the cellar of spices and the other the cellar of unguents. The reason of such appellations I will explain afterwards. Observe, meantime, how everything about the Bridegroom is sweet and health-giving: wine, and ointments, and spices. "Wine," as the Scriptures bear witness, "rejoiceth the heart of man." We read also that he "maketh his face cheerful with oil," which oil has been mixed, no doubt, with odoriferous elements, so as to make of it an ointment. The aromatic spices are not only prized for the sweetness of their fragrance, but also for their medicinal properties. Good reason, therefore, had the Spouse for boasting of her admission into those cellars which are filled with such abounding treasures of grace.

But I have other names besides for these three cellars, which, it seems to me, are even more evidently applicable than those I have just explained. To pro- - ceed in due order, I call the first cellar Discipline, the second Nature, and the third Grace. In the first we learn, according to the rules of sound morality, how to be subject to others; in the second, how to be equal, in the third, how to be superior. In plainer words, we learn how to live under others, how to live on terms of equality with others, and how to rule over others. Or again, we are taught in the first the duties of subjection; in the second, the duties of equality; and in the third, the duties of superiority. Therefore, Discipline teaches us how to be disciples, nature how to be equals, and Grace how to be superiors. By nature, indeed, all men were made equal.¹ But their natural perfection having been corrupted by pride, they grew impatient of this original equality, endeavoured to rise each above the other, and desired to surpass each other, led on by the love of vainglory to mutual envy and jealousy. In the first place, therefore, and in the first cellar, the wantonness of our manners and characters must be kept in restraint by the yoke of discipline, until the will, its obstinacy having been worn away, as it were, by the friction of the hard and long-pressing precepts of our superiors, shall thus be humbled and healed, and recover that natural integrity which it lost through pride. Then, when we have learned to live peaceably and sociably, as far as it depends upon us, with all who share our common nature, namely, with all men, and that not through fear of correction, but solely from a sentiment of natural affection — then, I say, we shall pass from the cellar called Discipline into that of Nature. Here we shall experience the truth of what is written, "Behold how good and pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity, like precious ointment on the head! ': For to disciplined morals, as to sweet spices pounded together, there is added now the oil of gladness, that is to say, the perfection of our nature is to life, to liberty, to livelihood, to property, to marriage, to religious worship, to moral and intellectual education. These inhere in all men, without distinction," but have not necessarily the same extension or content in all, such extension being determined by the special circumstances of each individual. This is the sense in which we must interpret the above-quoted sentence of St. Bernard, unless we wish to regard him as the precursor of Hobbes, Rousseau, Paine, and the present-day«• Q restored, and the result is an ointment exceedingly "good and pleasant."

This unguent renders a man sweet and mild, makes him such that he never complains, never overreaches, never strikes or otherwise injures anybody, never boasts or prefers himself to anyone and, moreover, he enters gladly into the kindly intercourse of friendship which consists in the interchange of all good offices.

If you have well understood the properties of these two cellars, I think you must admit that not alto^ gether fanciful are the names I have given them, calling the first the cellar of spices, and the second the cellar of unguents. For, just as the violent pounding of the pestle presses and squeezes out the essence and fragrance of the aromatic elements, so does the force of authority and the pressure of discipline in the cellar of spices beat out and extract, so to speak, the natural excellence of good morals. In the cellar of unguents flows that pleasing and spontaneously obliging sweetness of a free and, as it were, instinctive affection, like the ointment on the head, which, at the slightest touch of heat, trickles down and spreads itself over the whole body. Hence, the aromatic elements are contained in the cellar of Discipline, but as yet dry and uncompounded; and this is my reason for naming it the cellar of spices. In the second cellar, which I have called Nature, the conf ected ointments are stored up and preserved; to this fact it owes its name of the cellar of unguents. And I think the third has been called the wine-cellar, for no other reason than because it contains the wine of zeal, fervescent with charity. He who has not yet deserved to be introduced into this, ought not by any means to undertake the government of others. For every ruler should be aglow with this wine, as was the Doctor of Nations when he exclaimed, "Who is weak and I am not weak? Who is scandal-ised and I am not on fire?" Otherwise, you act very wickedly in seeking to govern those whom you feel no desire to benefit; and by insisting too ambitiously on the submission to your authority of men for whose salvation you have no concern. To this cellar I have given the second name of the cellar of Grace, not indeed as if even the other two can be attained without grace, but because of the plenitude of all graces, which is received in this alone. For "Charity is the fulfilling of the law." And it is also written that "he that loveth his neighbour hath fulfilled the law."

You now understand, my brethren, the signification of the names. Let us consider next the difference between the cellars. For it is a truth of experience that we do not possess the same ease and capacity for living at peace with our companions, united in the bonds of spontaneous affection, and for repressing with the fear of the master, and restraining with the sharp curb of discipline, the petulance and inconstancy of the senses, and the inordinate desires of the flesh. It is one thing to live a well-ordered life under the government of a watchful superior, and quite another to exercise charity habitually in our dealings with our brethren, solely in obedience to the promptings of our own wills. And surely no one would say that it is a matter of equal merit and of equal virtue to live in peace and harmony with our equals, and to govern wisely and with advantage to the governed. How many there are who lead a quiet life under the eye of a superior, yet whom, if released from the yoke of subjection, you would find incapable of repose, incapable even of keeping themselves from doing harm to their brethren! How many also do you behold conversing with their equals sincerely and without offence, who, if raised to the rank of superior, would show themselves to be not only useless, but devoid of good sense, and even wanting in probity! Persons of this description have in their own place all that they require, and so should find contentment in that mediocrity of goodness which God has bestowed upon them as their measure of grace. They do not indeed any longer need the watchful supervision of a master, but neither are they qualified to act as the masters of others. Hence, they surpass in moral excellence those who belong to the first class or cellar, and are still subject to discipline, but they are themselves surpassed by those of the third class, by those, that is, who possess the qualities requisite in a superior. Such as these, who know how to govern well and wisely, have received the promise that they shall be set over all the goods of their Lord. It is indeed a fact that there are but few who can govern with advantage to their subjects, and fewer still who can govern with humility. Nevertheless, that superior shall easily fulfil these two conditions of good government, ruling with profit to his inferiors without spiritual loss to himself, that superior, I say, who, after perfectly acquiring the virtue which is mother of all the others, that is, the virtue of discretion, is furthermore inebriated with the wine of charity, to the extent of despising his own glory, and forgetting himself and his personal interests.

It is only in the wine-cellar this wine can be obtained, and only under the admit able direction of the Holy Ghost. Without the fervour of charity, discretion is unfruitful and sluggish; whilst, unless tempered with discretion, the impetuosity of fervour easily induces precipitation. Worthy of admiration, therefore, is he to whom neither of these virtues is wanting, so that discretion is enlivened by fervour, and fervour held in check by discretion. Such, my brethren, is the character which superiors ought to possess. In my opinion, he has completely attained to the perfection both of morals and of discipline, to whomsoever it has been granted to pass through and around all these cellars without hindrance. I mean, he who in no particular either resists his superiors, or envies his equals; who governs without pride and without neglect of his subjects; who is obedient to those over him, condescending and useful to those under him, and agreeable to his equals. The glory of such perfection I have not the slightest hesitation in attributing to the Spouse. Nay, she even implicitly claims it for herself, when she boasts that "The King hath brought me into His storerooms." For here she does not assert that she has been introduced into this or that particular storeroom; but simply says, speaking in the plural, "into His storerooms," which must be taken to mean all.

Let us come now to the bedchamber. What does it symbolise? And am I so presumptuous as to imagine I can comprehend its meaning? Far be it from me to make pretensions to so sublime an experience, or to boast of a prerogative which belongs exclusively to the happy Spouse. According to the counsel of the Greek²

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philosopher, I take care to know myself, that, with the Prophet, "I may also know what is wanting to me." And yet if I knew nothing about the bedchamber, I surely could say nothing. What knowledge I have, I will not begrudge nor withhold from you. And as to that whereof I am ignorant, may He instruct you "Who teacheth knowledge to man." I have observed, if you recollect, that it is in the privacy of loving contemplation we must look for the King's bedchamber. And in speaking of the ointments, I remember to have said that the Bridegroom possesses many and various unguents, and that all these are not equally accessible to all, but his own to each, according to the diversity of merits. In the same way, I think that the King has not one but several bedchambers. For certainly there are more than one queen, there are many wives (concubine) and an innumerable throng of young maidens. Each of these has her own place for private intercourse with the Bridegroom, and says, "my secret to myself, my secret to myself." Not all are permitted to enjoy in the same chamber the delightful and secret I presence of the Beloved, but each in that only which has been prepared for her by the Father. For it is not we that have chosen Him, but He hath first chosen us and appointed us our several places. And wheresoever each has been put by Him, there he ought to remain. Thus, to one contrite woman was given a place at the Feet of the Lord Jesus. Another, if indeed another and not the same, enjoyed the fruit of her devotion at His Head. St. Thomas obtained the grace of this secret in the Saviour's Side, St. John on His Breast, St. Peter in the Father's Bosom, St. Paul in the third heaven.

Which of us, my brethren, is competent to distinguish accurately these varieties of merits, or rather of rewards? Lest, however, we should seem to have passed over that which we do know, I say that the first woman sought her repose in the security of humility, the second in the seat of hope, St. Thomas in the solidity of faith, St. John in the breadth of charity, St. Paul in the profundity of wisdom, St. Peter in the light of truth. Thus, therefore, has the Bridegroom many mansions, and every soul, whether a queen, or a wife, or one of the young maidens, obtains there the place and the limit proportionate to her merits, until it be permitted her to ascend higher by contemplation, to enter into the joy of her Lord, and to search out all the delightful secrets of her Beloved. This I will endeavour to explain more clearly in its proper place, according as the Spirit shall condescend to inspire me. Meantime, let it suffice us to know that none of the young maidens, none of the wives, none even of the queens, can have any access to that secret bedchamber, which, alone of its kind, the Bridegroom has reserved to His "beautiful dove," His "perfect one." Hence, I have no reason to complain of not being admitted thither, especially since I know that the Spouse herself cannot, as yet, attain to every secret she would wish to discover. For she demands to be informed "where He feedeth, where He lieth in the mid-day."

But let me tell you what I have attained to, or rather what I believe myself to have attained to. And you must not regard as a boast this communication, which I make only for your good. There is in the home of the Bridegroom a certain place where, as Governor of the universe, He frames His decrees, and disposes His counsels, appointing to all creatures their laws, their weight, measure, and number. It is a lofty place and a secret, but very far from quiet. For although, as far as depends on Him, He "disposeth all things sweetly" still He does really dispose. And He will not suffer the contemplative soul which, perchance, has found her way to this place, to rest there peacefully, but by causing her to scrutinise everything with admiration, He wearies and disquiets her in ways no less pleasant than marvellous. In a following verse, the Spouse beautifully expresses these two characteristics of such contemplation, viz., delight and restlessness, where she confesses that whilst she sleeps her heart watches. For she thus signifies that, although she enjoys rest in this sleep of a most blissful transport and tranquil admiration, she nevertheless endures fatigue in the watching of her unquiet curiosity and in her painful activity. Hence blessed Job said: "If I be down to sleep, I shall say, when shall I rise? And again I shall look for the evening."

Do you not perceive, my brethren, from these words, that sometimes the holy soul wishes to decline such bitter-sweets, if I may use the expression, and again experiences a revival of appetite for the same sweet-bitters?³ For had that slumber of contemplation completely satisfied her, she never would have asked, "When shall I rise?" And, on the contrary, she never would have looked forward to the hour of restful prayer, viz., to the evening, were it entirely distasteful. No bedchamber of the King, therefore, can this place be, since the soul therein is not permitted to enjoy perfect repose.

There is another place, whence is kept an immutable watch over the reprobate rational creatures, by the just vengeance, as severe as it is secret, of the most righteous Judge, "terrible in His counsels over the sons of men." Here the trembling soul beholds the Almighty, by a just but hidden judgment, refusing both to pardon the evil and to accept the good works of the wicked,⁴ and, moreover, hardening their hearts, lest perchance they should become contrite, enter into themselves, be converted, and He should heal them. And this not without a determinate and eternal decree, which is manifestly all the more frightening on account of its being unchangeably fixed from everlasting. Very terrifying, indeed, is that which we read in the Prophet Isaias, where God says, speaking to His angels, "Let us have pity on the wicked." And then, to their trembling question, "Will he not therefore learn justice?" He answers, "No," and He gives the reason: "In the land of the saints, he hath done wicked things, and he shall not see the glory of the Lord." Be afraid, ye clerics, tremble, ye ministers of the Church, who in the lands of the saints, which you have gotten into your possession, are doing such "wicked things," that, far from being content with the stipend which ought to satisfy you, you impiously and sacrilegiously keep for yourselves the superfluities that should go to the support of the indigent, shamelessly squandering the patrimony of the poor on the gratification of your own pride and luxury. Thus, you contract the guilt of a twofold iniquity, by robbing others of their property, and by abusing sacred things, which you make to subserve your vanity and wickedness.

Since, therefore, He Whose "judgments are a great deep" is here beheld showing mercy and compassion in time to such transgressors, but only to the end that He may not spare them in eternity, who would seek rest in this place? The vision is better calculated to inspire one with the terror of judgment than to suggest the security of a bedchamber. Terrible in truth is this place, and entirely incompatible with the quiet of repose. I shudder all over, whenever I enter it, repeating with trembling those terrifying words, "Mai knoweth not whether he be worthy of love or hatred." And what wonder that I, who am but a leaf blown about by the wind, a dry straw, should there shake with fear, where even that greatest of contemplatives, the royal Psalmist, acknowledges that his "feet were almost moved, his steps had well-nigh slipt"? And he adds, "Because I had a zeal on occasion of the wicked, seeing the prosperity of sinners." Wherefore? Because "they are not in the labour of men; neither shall they be scourged like other men. Therefore, pride hath held them fast," that they may not humble themselves unto penance, but be condemned for their pride with the proud demon and his angels. For they who "are not in the labour of men," shall certainly be in the labour of demons. This the Judge declares in His sentence, "Depart from Me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, which was prepared for the devil and his angels." Nevertheless, even this is a place of God, surely "no other but the house of God and the gate of heaven." For here the Lord is said to be feared, here "His name is holy and terrible," and here assuredly "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom," as it were, the vestibule of His glory.

Do not be surprised, my brethren, that I have ascribed the beginning of wisdom to this second place rather than to the first. For there do we indeed hear wisdom teaching of all things, as it were, in a lecture-hall; but here we actually receive wisdom. There our minds are instructed, here our wills are affected. By being so instructed we become learned; by being so affected we are made wise. As not all who are illumined by the light of the sun are also warmed by his heat, so wisdom enlightens many as to what they ought to do, without giving them at the same time the good will and dis-

^WK position to do it. It is one thing to have knowledge of great riches, but quite another to have possession of the same; for it is the possession of wealth and not the knowledge thereof that makes a man wealthy. In like manner, there is the greatest difference between knowing God and fearing Him; nor are we made wise by the former, but only by the latter, which alone can influence our will. Surely, my brethren, you would not call him wise who is inflated with his science. And none but the most foolish would attribute wisdom to those who "when they knew God, have not glorified Him as God, nor given thanks." I, for my part, agree with the Apostle where he manifestly pronounces "their heart" to be "foolish." Justly is it said that "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom," because it is only then the soul begins to relish God, when she is inspired with the fear of Him, not when she is instructed in the knowledge of Him. You fear the divine justice, you fear the divine power, and hence, inasmuch as fear gives savour, you will relish God as wise and just. Furthermore, relish makes a man wise,⁵ as knowledge makes him learned, and riches wealthy.

What, then, of the first place I have mentioned? It only disposes to wisdom. There you are prepared for that wisdom of which you here obtain possession. This preparation consists in acquiring a knowledge of truth. But such knowledge most readily excites the swelling of vanity, unless it is repressed by fear, of which, therefore, it is truly said that "the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom," for it is the first to oppose itself to the pest of folly. In the first place, then, we are put on the road to wisdom, in the second we are introduced to it. Yet in neither does the contemplative find perfect repose, because in the one God appears as if distracted with cares, and in the other as if enraged against sinners. Seek not, therefore, the King's bedchamber in either place, not in the former, which is rather the Teacher's lecture-hall, nor in the latter, which bears a closer resemblance to the Judge's tribunal. But there is a third place, where the Lord appears truly tranquil and at rest. It is the place neither of the Judge nor of the Teacher, but of the Bridegroom, and which becomes for me, at least (whether for others, also, I know not), a real bedchamber, whenever it is granted me to enter there. But all too rare that privilege, alas! and all too short-lived. There we can plainly see that "the mercy of the Lord is from eternity and unto eternity upon them that fear Him." And happy he who can say, "I am a partaker with all them that fear Thee, and that keep Thy commandments." The purpose of God stands fixed, as well as His decree of mercy "upon them that fear Him," overlooking what is evil in them and rewarding what is good, and with admirable wisdom bringing it about that not alone what is good, but even what is evil shall "co-operate unto good for them." Oh, truly and alone "blessed is the man to whom the Lord hath not imputed sin." For there is no one⁶ without sin, "because all have sinned and do need the glory of

God." Yet "who shall accuse against the elect of God? "It suffices me unto all justice, that He alone be propitious to me against Whom alone I have sinned. Whatever He wills not to impute to me, is as if it never had been. God's righteousness is freedom from sin, but the righteousness of man is the forgiveness of God. Such things I saw in this third place, and I then understood the truth of the words, "Whosoever is born of God committeth not sin; for His seed abideth in him, and he cannot sin, because he is born of God." That is to say, his heavenly generation preserves him. This heavenly generation is nothing else but eternal predestination, whereby God has loved His elect and made them pleasing in His sight in His own Beloved Son, before the foundation of the world, and so "they in the sanctuary have appeared before Him, to see His Conception itself. I shall answer in the words of Cardinal Manning: "It may be further proved (i) that the doctrine rejected by St. Bernard is a doctrine rejected by the Church at this time, viz., the supposition that the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin was a peculiarity arising from the order of nature, including her parents and even her ancestors within its range. (2) That the doctrine he taught under the name of the Immaculate Nativity, is in substance the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception as now denned by the Chinch — that the exemption of the Blessed Virgin from original sin was a peculiar and personal privilege, bestowed upon her alone, not by the order of nature, but in the order of grace, not through the mediation of parents, but by a direct infusion of the grace of the Holy Ghost into the soul at the first moment of its existence.... With what joy would he (St. Bernard) not have hailed the authoritative definition of his own doctrine, perfect in identity of substance, only expressed with more scientificpower and His glory," in order that they might be made participators in the inheritance of Him, to Whose image they have shown themselves conformed. I have therefore observed that these are as if they had never sinned, because whatever faults they may seem to have committed in time, none at all shall appear in eternity, for the Father's "charity covereth a multitude of sins." David called those blessed also "whose iniquities are forgiven and whose sins are covered." At the thought of this, I, even I, have suddenly experienced such an infusion of confidence and joy as altogether exceeded the earlier emotion of fear, felt in the place of horrors, that is, in the place of the second vision. For it seemed to me that I was of the number of these blessed ones. Would to God that my happiness had been lasting! Again, O Lord, again, "visit me with Thy salvation, that I may see the good of Thy chosen, that I may rejoice in the joy of Thy nation."

O place of true rest, and, in my opinion, well deserving to be called a bedchamber! For we do not here behold God either, as it were, excited with anger, or as if distracted with care; but His will is proved to be "good and acceptable and perfect." This vision soothes instead of terrifying. It lulls to rest, instead of arousing, our unquiet curiosity. It calms the mind instead of fatiguing it. Here is found perfect repose. The tranquillity of God tranquillises all about Him, and the contemplation of His rest is rest to the soul. Here we behold Him as a King, Who, after spending the day in hearing and judging causes in His tribunal, now, in the evening quiet, dismisses the multitudes, and laying aside all disturbing cares, retires to His royal residence for the night, and enters His bedchamber with a few friends, whom He condescends to honour with this privilege of special familiarity. Here we may see Him taking His rest with equal security and privacy. Here we behold Him looking all the more serene because He perceives around Him only the faces of those whom He loves. If, my brethren, it should ever be the lot of any of you to be so transported for a time into this secret sanctuary of God, and there so rapt and absorbed as to be distracted or disturbed by no necessity of the body, no importunity of care, no stinging of conscience, or, what is more difficult to avoid, no inrush of corporeal images from the senses or the imagination, such a one can truly say, "The King hath brought me into His bedchamber." But I would not rashly affirm that this is the bedchamber whereof the Spouse boasts. Still it is a bedchamber, and a bedchamber of the King, because of the three places, to which I have assigned the three visions, only this "place is in peace." For, as I have shown, very little rest is enjoyed in the first, where the Lord, by showing Himself admirable, exercises our curiosity in the labour of inquiry; and none at all in the second, because He here appears so terrible as to overpower with fear our mortal infirmity. But in this third place, He deigns to reveal Himself not so terrible, not so admirable, as amiable, as serene, as tranquil, as "sweet and mild and plenteous in mercy to all that "gaze upon Him.

Now, to facilitate the retention of all that I have said in this lengthy discourse, I will repeat it in brief summary. Remember, then, the three times, the three I merits, and the three rewards. Observe the times in / connexion with the garden, the merits in the storeroom, and the rewards in the threefold contemplation of him who seeks the King's bedchamber. I have already said quite enough about the storeroom. As concerning the garden and the bedchamber, if anything occurs to me that ought to be added or to be presented in a different way, you shall have it in its proper place. Otherwise you must be satisfied with what you have heard now, for I will not make any repetition, lest, which God forbid, that should engender weariness, which is spoken solely to the praise and glory of the Bridegroom of the Church, Our Lord Jesus Christ, Who is over all, God blessed for ever. Amen. i.

'J** b.

Footnotes

1. "Omnes homines natura aequales genuit." That is to say, all men are equal specifically and in the abstract, as equally participating in the same human nature, and all enjoy equal specific rights. But in the concrete — to quote Dr. Ryan — "men's natural rights are unequal, just as are the concrete natures from which they spring... men are equal as regards the number of their natural rights. The most important of these are the right prophets of anarchy and socialism, who maintain the absolute equality of all men, and, whether by accident or otherwise, have selected his very words to epitomise their doctrines. The same words have also found their way into the American "Declaration of Independence." Cf. Hickey, Ethica, p. 200. — (Translator.) ↩

2. Socrates is said to have summed up his teaching in the two words, "yvSiBi aeavTov" (know thyself), all wisdom consisting in self-knowledge. This celebrated precept has been attributed to each of the Seven Sages, and even to Apollo's own daughter, the mythical Phemonoe, for which reason it was inscribed over the portico of Apollo's temple at Delphi. The reader will recall St. Augustine's beautiful prayer, "Let me know Thee, my God, let me know myself" (noverim Te, noverim me). — (Translator.) ↩

3. "Molesta suavitas... suavis molestia." Compare with this what St. Teresa says about the "Wound of Love" or the "Anguish of Love," Int. Castle, 6th Mans., ch. xi. — (Translator.) ↩

4. The Saint is evidently speaking of obstinately impenitent sinners, for no Christian would say, least of all St. Bernard, that pardon is ever refused to the truly contrite. He is, therefore, but repeating here what he said in the first of these sermons, that without the keeping of the commandments no work is good or acceptable. It would also be a great mistake to conclude from what is here said that the holy Preacher held any theory of absolute predestination, according to which God has from all eternity immutably determined the number of the elect, independently of His prevision of merit or demerit. Such a doctrine would be in manifest contradiction with his plain teaching elsewhere. Thus, in his treatise "On Grace and Free Will," cap. ix., we read, "The rational creature, by the prero-l native of his liberty, has been made, to some extent, the master! of his own destinies, so that ix is only by his own free will hej becomes wicked and is justly condemned, or perseveres in good and merits salvation.... The merciful Father, Who wills to save all, nevertheless judges none worthy of salvation, whom He has not already proved willing to be saved." Also, cap. i., "The will is said to co-operate with grace by consenting. And salvation consists in this consent." These passages also show that St. Bernard knew nothing of intrinsically efficacious grace. — (Translator.) r — *— — — — ↩

5. "Sapor sapientem facit, lit scientia scientem." — (Translator.) ↩

6. These words of the holy Preacher, just as the sentence cited from St. Paul, are intended to be taken exceptis excipiendis — as expressing merely a moral universality. For to say nothing of our Lord, it is absolutely certain that St. Bernard taught that throughout her whole life the Blessed Virgin was free from all sin, both original and actual. He has indeed been represented as an opponent of the doctrine of her Immaculate Conception, because of a letter of his in which he reproves the Canons of Lyons for celebrating a feast in honour of that mystery, and moreover appears to deny any sanctity to the accuracy of mental and verbal analysis." This is the interpretation given to the Saint's words by B. Albert, St. Thomas, St. Bonaventure, Bellarmin, Perrone, and most moderns. Cf. Bellarmin, t. iv. 1. iv. c. xv.; and Hurter t. ii. n. 644. — (Translator.) ↩