Skip to the text

Exclamation XV

  1. O my very God and Lord! Greatly does it comfort the soul wearied by the loneliness of absence from Thee, to reflect that Thou art present in all things! Yet when the ardour of its love and the impetuous vehemence of its anguish increases, what does even this avail? The understanding is darkened, the reason obscured, so that it can no longer grasp nor believe this truth. The soul only feels that it is separated from Thee and can find no solace, for the heart that loves Thee so deeply receives neither comfort nor help save from Him Who wounded it and to Whom it looks for the remedy that will assuage its pain.1

  2. When Thou wilt. Lord, Thou dost quickly cure2 strive, during this contest, save Him Who has taken possession of the fortress they once held, — the highest part of the soul? From this He has ejected them, and they now return to oust their conqueror; at last, weary of absence from Him, they yield themselves up. Thus, losing all their strength, they fight far better than before, and by surrendering to their victor, triumph over Him finally.

  3. O my soul! what a blessed conflict hast thou waged during this trial, and how truly has this been thy case. Since " My Beloved is to me and I to my Beloved," who will strive to separate and extinguish two such ardent flames? It would be labour lost, for they are now one.

Footnotes

  1. Ibid. iii. 2: Per vicos et plateas qucsrain quern diligit anima mea. ↩

  2. Lifg cji xxbi. 13-19. Rel. viii. 16, 17. EXCLAMATIONS. I05 the wound Thou hast inflicted: until then, vain is all hope of healing or joy save that found in sufíering for so good a cause. 3. O true Lover! how tenderly, how sweetly, with what joy and caresses, with what inñnite signs of love dost Thou heal these wounds, opened by Thee with the arrows of love itself! 4. O my God, comforter of all sorrows, how foolish I am! What human remedy can avail those injured by the divine fire? Who can penetrate the depths of this wound, or tell whence it came, or how such keen yet delicious torture can be soothed? How senseless to fancy that such a precious ill could be cured by anything so common as human art. 5. Well does the Bride say, in the Canticles: " My Beloved to me and I to my Beloved." ' " My Beloved to me," for no such love could spring from love so base as mine. Yet if my love be base, my Bridegroom, why does it pass by all creatures until it reaches its Creator? 6. O my God! Why, " I to my Beloved "? Thou, my true Lover, didst begin this war of love, which seems nothing but an inquietude and failing of all the powers and senses, which go through the streets * and lanes, imploring the daughters of Jerusalem to tell them where is their God. Against whom do the powers of the soul ' Cant. ii. 16: Dilectus meus mihi et ego illi. ↩

Chapter 15 of 16