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A
SPIRITUAL CANTICLE OF THE SOUL AND
THE BRIDEGROOM CHRIST
BY
ST.
JOHN OF THE CROSS
DAVID
LEWIS
WITH
CORRECTIONS AND AN INTRODUCTION BY
BENEDICT
ZIMMERMAN, O.C.D.
INTRODUCTION
THE
present volume of the works of St. John of the Cross contains the
explanation of the "Spiritual Canticle of the Soul and the
Bridegroom Christ." The two earlier works, the "Ascent
of Mount Carmel" and the "Dark Night of the Soul," dealt
with the cleansing of the soul, the unremittant war against even
the smallest imperfections standing in the way of union with God;
imperfections which must be removed, partly by strict self-discipline,
partly by the direct intervention of God, Who, searching "the
reins and hearts" by means of heavy interior and exterior
trials, purges away whatever is displeasing to Him. Although some
stanzas refer to this preliminary state, the chief object of the "Spiritual
Canticle" is to picture under the Biblical simile of Espousals
and Matrimony the blessedness of a soul that has arrived at union
with God.
The
Canticle was composed during the long imprisonment St. John underwent
at Toledo from the beginning of December 1577 till the middle of
August of the following year. Being one of the principal supporters
of the Reform of St. Teresa, he was also one of the victims of
the war waged against her work by the Superiors of the old branch
of the Order. St. John's prison was a narrow, stifling cell, with
no window, but only a small loophole through which a ray of light
entered for a short time of the day, just long enough to enable
him to say his office, but affording little facility for reading
or writing. However, St. John stood in no need of books. Having
for many years meditated on every word of Holy Scripture, the Word
of God was deeply written in his heart, supplying abundant food
for conversation with God during the whole period of his imprisonment.
From time to time he poured forth his soul in poetry; afterwards
he communicated his verses to friends.
One
of these poetical works, the fruit of his imprisonment, was the "Spiritual
Canticle," which, as the reader will notice, is an abridged
paraphrase of the Canticle of Canticles, the Song of Solomon, wherein
under the image of passionate love are described the mystical sufferings
and longings of a soul enamored with God.
From
the earliest times the Fathers and Doctors of the Church had recognized
the mystical character of the Canticle, and the Church had largely
utilized it in her liturgy. But as there is nothing so holy but
that it may be abused, the Canticle almost more than any other
portion of Holy Scripture, had been misinterpreted by a false Mysticism,
such as was rampant in the middle of the sixteenth century. It
had come to pass, said the learned and saintly Augustinian, Fray
Luis de Leon, that that which was given as a medicine was turned
into poison,[1] so
that the Ecclesiastical authority, by the Index of 1559, forbade
the circulation of the Bible or parts of the Bible in any but the
original languages, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin; and no one knew better
than Luis de Leon himself how rigorously these rules were enforced,
for he had to expiate by nearly five years' imprisonment the audacity
of having translated into Castilian the Canticle of Canticles.[2]
Again,
one of the confessors of St. Teresa, commonly thought to have been
the Dominican, Fray Diego de Yanguas, on learning that the Saint
had written a book on the Canticle, ordered her to throw it into
the fire, so that we now only possess a few fragments of her work,
which, unknown to St. Teresa, had been copied by a nun.
It
will now be understood that St. John's poetical paraphrase of the
Canticle must have been welcome to many contemplative souls who
desired to kindle their devotion with the words of Solomon, but
were unable to read them in Latin. Yet the text alone, without
explanation, would have helped them little; and as no one was better
qualified than the author to throw light on the mysteries hidden
under oriental imagery, the Venerable Ann of Jesus, Prioress of
the Carmelite convent at Granada, requested St. John to write a
commentary on his verses.[3] He
at first excused himself, saying that he was no longer in that
state of spiritual exuberance in which he had been when composing
the Canticle, and that there only remained to him a confused recollection
of the wonderful operations of Divine grace during the period of
his imprisonment. Ann of Jesus was not satisfied with this answer;
she not only knew that St. John had lost nothing of his fervor,
though he might no longer experience the same feelings, but she
remembered what had happened to St. Teresa under similar circumstances,
and believed the same thing might happen to St. John. When St.
Teresa was obliged to write on some mystical phenomena, the nature
of which she did not fully understand, or whose effect she had
forgotten, God granted her unexpectedly a repetition of her former
experiences so as to enable her to fully study the matter and report
on it.[4] Venerable
Ann of Jesus felt sure that if St. John undertook to write an explanation
of the Canticle he would soon find himself in the same mental attitude
as when he composed it.
St.
John at last consented, and wrote the work now before us. The following
letter, which has lately come to light, gives some valuable information
of its composition. The writer, Magdalen of the Holy Spirit, nun
of Veas, where she was professed on August 6, 1577, was intimately
acquainted with the Saint.
"When
the holy father escaped from prison, he took with him a book of
poetry he had written while there, containing the verses commencing
`In the beginning was the Word,' and those others: `I know the
fountain well which flows and runs, though it is night,' and the
canticle, `Where have you hidden yourself?' as far as `O nymphs
of Judea' (stanza XVIII.). The remaining verses he composed later
on while rector of the college of Baeza (1579 -- 81), while some
of the explanations were written at Veas at the request of the
nuns, and others at Granada. The Saint wrote this book in prison
and afterwards left it at Veas, where it was handed to me to make
some copies of it. Later on it was taken away from my cell, and
I never knew who took it. I was much struck with the vividness
and the beauty and subtlety of the words. One day I asked the Saint
whether God had given him these words which so admirably explain
those mysteries, and He answered: `Child, sometimes God gave them
to me, and at other times I sought them myself.'"[5]
The
autograph of St. John's work which is preserved at Jaén bears the
following title:
"Explanation
of Stanzas treating of the exercise of love between the soul and
Jesus Christ its Spouse, dealing with and commenting on certain
points and effects of prayer; written at the request of Mother
Ann of Jesus, prioress of the Discalced Carmelite nuns of St. Joseph's
convent, Granada, 1584."
As
might be expected, the author dedicated the book to Ann of Jesus,
at whose request he had written it. Thus, he began his Prologue
with the following words: "Inasmuch as this canticle, Reverend
Mother (Religiosa Madre), seems to have been written," etc.
A little further on he said: "The stanzas that follow, having
been written under the influence of that love which proceeds from
the overflowing mystical intelligence, cannot be fully explained.
Indeed, I do not purpose any such thing, for my sole purpose is
to throw some general light over them, since Your Reverence has
asked me to do so, and since this, in my opinion too, is the better
course." And again: "I shall, however, pass over the
more ordinary (effects of prayer), and treat briefly of the more
extraordinary to which they are subject who, by the mercy of God,
have advanced beyond the state of beginners. This I do for two
reasons: the first is that much is already written concerning beginners;
and the second is that I am addressing myself to Your Reverence
at your own bidding; for you have received from Our Lord the grace
of being led on from the elementary state and led inwards to the
bosom of His divine love." He continues thus: "I therefore
trust, though I may discuss some points of scholastic theology
relating to the interior commerce of the soul with God, that I
am not using such language altogether in vain, and that it will
be found profitable for pure spirituality. For though Your Reverence
is ignorant of scholastic theology, you are by no means ignorant
of mystical theology, the science of love, etc."
From
these passages it appears quite clearly that the Saint wrote the
book for Venerable Ann of Jesus and the nuns of her convent. With
the exception of an edition published at Brussels in 1627, these
personal allusions have disappeared from both the Spanish text
and the translations,[6] nor
are they to be found in Mr. Lewis's version. There cannot be the
least doubt that they represent St. John's own intention, for they
are to be found in his original manuscript. This, containing, in
several parts, besides the Explanation of the Spiritual Canticle,
various poems by the Saint, was given by him to Ann of Jesus, who
in her turn committed it to the care of one of her nuns, Isabelle
of the Incarnation, who took it with her to Baeza, where she remained
eleven years, and afterwards to Jaén, where she founded a convent
of which she became the first prioress. She there caused the precious
manuscript to be bound in red velvet with silver clasps and gilt
edges. It still was there in 1876, and, for all we know, remains
to the present day in the keeping of the said convent. It is a
pity that no photographic edition of the writings of St. John (so
far as the originals are preserved) has yet been attempted, for
there is need for a critical edition of his works.
The
following is the division of the work: Stanzas I. to IV. are introductory;
V. to XII. refer to the contemplative life in its earlier stages;
XIII. to XXI., dealing with what the Saint calls the Espousals,
appertain to the Unitive way, where the soul is frequently, but
not habitually, admitted to a transient union with God; and XXII.
to the end describe what he calls Matrimony, the highest perfection
a soul can attain this side of the grave. The reader will find
an epitome of the whole system of mystical theology in the explanation
of Stanza XXVI.
This
work differs in many respects from the "Ascent" and the "Dark
Night." Whereas these are strictly systematic, preceding on
the line of relentless logic, the "Spiritual Canticle," as
a poetical work ought to do, soars high above the divisions and
distinctions of the scholastic method. With a boldness akin to
that of his Patron Saint, the Evangelist, St. John rises to the
highest heights, touching on a subject that should only be handled
by a Saint, and which the reader, were he a Saint himself, will
do well to treat cautiously: the partaking by the human soul of
the Divine Nature, or, as St. John calls it, the Deification of
the soul (Stanza XXVI. sqq.), These are regions where the ordinary
mind threatens to turn; but St. John, with the knowledge of what
he himself had experienced, not once but many times, what he had
observed in others, and what, above all, he had read of in Holy
Scripture, does not shrink from lifting the veil more completely
than probably any Catholic writer on mystical theology has done.
To pass in silence the last wonders of God's love for fear of being
misunderstood, would have been tantamount to ignoring the very
end for which souls are led along the way of perfection; to reveal
these mysteries in human language, and say all that can be said
with not a word too much, not an uncertain or misleading line in
the picture: this could only have been accomplished by one whom
the Church has already declared to have been taught by God Himself
(divinitus instructus), and whose books She tells us are filled
with heavenly wisdom (coelesti sapientia refertos). It is hoped
that sooner or later She will proclaim him (what many grave authorities
think him to be) a Doctor of the Church, namely, the Doctor of
Mystical theology.[7]
As
has already been noticed in the Introduction to the "Ascent," the
whole of the teaching of St. John is directly derived from Holy
Scripture and from the psychological principles of St. Thomas Aquinas.
There is no trace to be found of an influence of the Mystics of
the Middle Age, with whose writings St. John does not appear to
have been acquainted. But throughout this treatise there are many
obvious allusions to the writings of St. Teresa, nor will the reader
fail to notice the encouraging remark about the publication of
her works (stanza xiii, sect. 8). The fact is that the same Venerable
Ann of Jesus who was responsible for the composition of St. John's
treatise was at the same time making preparations for the edition
of St. Teresa's works which a few years later appeared at Salamanca
under the editorship of Fray Luis de Leon, already mentioned.
Those
of his readers who have been struck with, not to say frightened
by, the exactions of St. John in the "Ascent" and the "Dark
Night," where he demands complete renunciation of every kind
of satisfaction and pleasure, however legitimate in themselves,
and an entire mortification of the senses as well as the faculties
and powers of the soul, and who have been wondering at his self-abnegation
which caused him not only to accept, but even to court contempt,
will find here the clue to this almost inhuman attitude. In his
response to the question of Our Lord, "What shall I give you
for all you have done and suffered for Me?" "Lord, to
suffer and be despised for You" -- he was not animated by
grim misanthropy or stoic indifference, but he had learned that
in proportion as the human heart is emptied of Self, after having
been emptied of all created things, it is open to the influx of
Divine grace. This he fully proves in the "Spiritual Canticle." To
be made "partaker of the Divine Nature," as St. Peter
says, human nature must undergo a radical transformation. Those
who earnestly study the teaching of St. John in his earlier treatises
and endeavor to put his recommendations into practice, will see
in this and the next volume an unexpected perspective opening before
their eyes, and they will begin to understand how it is that the
sufferings of this time -- whether voluntary or involuntary --
are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come that shall
be revealed in us.
Mr.
Lewis's masterly translation of the works of St. John of the Cross
appeared in 1864 under the auspices of Cardinal Wiseman. In the
second edition, of 1889, he made numerous changes, without, however,
leaving a record of the principles that guided him. Sometimes,
indeed, the revised edition is terser than the first, but just
as often the old one seems clearer. It is more difficult to understand
the reasons that led him to alter very extensively the text of
quotations from Holy Scripture. In the first edition he had nearly
always strictly adhered to the Douay version, which is the one
in official use in the Catholic Church in English-speaking countries.
It may not always be as perfect as one would wish it to be, but
it must be acknowledged that the wholesale alteration in Mr. Lewis's
second edition is, to say the least, puzzling. Even the Stanzas
have undergone many changes in the second edition, and it will
be noticed that there are some variants in their text as set forth
at the beginning of the book, and as repeated at the heading of
each chapter.
The
present edition, allowing for some slight corrections, is a reprint
of that of 1889.
BENEDICT ZIMMERMAN, PRIOR, O.C.D.
ST. LUKES, WINCANTON, SOMERSET,
Feast of St. Simon Stock,
May 16, 1909.
A
SPIRITUAL CANTICLE OF THE SOUL AND THE BRIDEGROOM CHRIST[8]
PROLOGUE
INASMUCH
as this canticle seems to have been written with some fervor of
love of God, whose wisdom and love are, as is said in the book
of Wisdom,[9] so
vast that they reach "from end to end," and as the soul,
taught and moved by Him, manifests the same abundance and strength
in the words it uses, I do not purpose here to set forth all that
greatness and fullness the spirit of love, which is fruitful, embodies
in it. Yes, rather it would be foolishness to think that the language
of love and the mystical intelligence -- and that is what these
stanzas are -- can be at all explained in words of any kind, for
the Spirit of our Lord who helps our weakness -- as St. Paul says[10] --
dwelling in us makes petitions for us with groaning unutterable
for that which we cannot well understand or grasp so as to be able
to make it known. "The Spirit helps our infirmity . . . the
Spirit Himself requests for us with groanings unspeakable." For
who can describe that which He shows to loving souls in whom He
dwells? Who can set forth in words that which He makes them feel?
and, lastly, who can explain that for which they long?
2.
Assuredly no one can do it; not even they themselves who experience
it. That is the reason why they use figures of special comparisons
and similitudes; they hide somewhat of that which they feel and
in the abundance of the Spirit utter secret mysteries rather than
express themselves in clear words.
3.
And if these similitudes are not received in the simplicity of
a loving mind, and in the sense in which they are uttered, they
will seem to be effusions of folly rather than the language of
reason; as anyone may see in the divine Canticle of Solomon, and
in others of the sacred books, wherein the Holy Spirit, because
ordinary and common speech could not convey His meaning, uttered
His mysteries in strange terms and similitudes. It follows from
this, that after all that the holy doctors have said, and may say,
no words of theirs can explain it; nor can words do it; and so,
in general, all that is said falls far short of the meaning.
4.
The stanzas that follow having been written under influence of
that love which proceeds from the overflowing mystical intelligence,
cannot be fully explained. Indeed I do not purpose any such thing,
for my sole object is to throw some general light over them, which
in my opinion is the better course. It is better to leave the outpourings
of love in their own fullness, that everyone may apply them according
to the measure of his spirit and power, than to pare them down
to one particular sense which is not suited to the taste of everyone.
And though I do put forth a particular explanation, still others
are not to be bound by it. The mystical wisdom -- that is, the
love, of which these stanzas speak -- does not require to be distinctly
understood in order to produce the effect of love and tenderness
in the soul, for it is in this respect like faith, by which we
love God without a clear comprehension of Him.
5.
I shall therefore be very concise, though now and then unable to
avoid some prolixity where the subject requires it, and when the
opportunity is offered of discussing and explaining certain points
and effects of prayer: many of which being referred to in these
stanzas, I must discuss some of them. I shall, however, pass over
the more ordinary ones, and treat briefly of the more extraordinary
to which they are subject who, by the mercy of God, have advanced
beyond the state of beginners. This I do for two reasons: the first
is, that much is already written concerning beginners; and the
second is, that I am addressing those who have received from our
Lord the grace of being led on from the elementary state and are
led inwards to the bosom of His divine love.
6.
I therefore trust, though I may discuss some points of scholastic
theology relating to the interior commerce of the soul with God,
that I am not using such language altogether in vain, and that
it will be found profitable for pure spirituality. For though some
may be altogether ignorant of scholastic theology by which the
divine verities are explained, yet they are not ignorant of mystical
theology, the science of love, by which those verities are not
only learned, but at the same time are relished also.
7.
And in order that what I am going to say may be the better received,
I submit myself to higher judgments, and unreservedly to that of
our holy mother the Church, intending to say nothing in reliance
on my own personal experience, or on what I have observed in other
spiritual persons, nor on what I have heard them say -- though
I intend to profit by all this -- unless I can confirm it with
the sanction of the divine writings, at least on those points which
are most difficult of comprehension.
8.
The method I propose to follow in the matter is this: first of
all, to cite the words of the text and then to give that explanation
of them which belongs to the subject before me. I shall now transcribe
all the stanzas and place them at the beginning of this treatise.
In the next place, I shall take each of them separately, and explain
them line by line, each line in its proper place before the explanation.
SONG
OF THE SOUL AND THE BRIDEGROOM
I
THE
BRIDE
Where
have You hidden Yourself,
And abandoned me in my groaning, O my Beloved?
You have fled like the hart,
Having wounded me.
I ran after You, crying; but You were gone.
II
O
shepherds, you who go
Through the sheepcots up the hill,
If you shall see Him
Whom I love the most,
Tell Him I languish, suffer, and die.
III
In
search of my Love
I will go over mountains and strands;
I will gather no flowers,
I will fear no wild beasts;
And pass by the mighty and the frontiers.
IV
O
groves and thickets
Planted by the hand of the Beloved;
O verdant meads
Enameled with flowers,
Tell me, has He passed by you?
V
ANSWER
OF THE CREATURES
A
thousand graces diffusing
He passed through the groves in haste,
And merely regarding them
As He passed
Clothed them with His beauty.
VI
THE
BRIDE
Oh!
who can heal me?
Give me at once Yourself,
Send me no more
A messenger
Who cannot tell me what I wish.
VII
All
they who serve are telling me
Of Your unnumbered graces;
And all wound me more and more,
And something leaves me dying,
I know not what, of which they are darkly speaking.
VIII
But
how you persevere, O life,
Not living where you live;
The arrows bring death
Which you receive
From your conceptions of the Beloved.
IX
Why,
after wounding
This heart, have You not healed it?
And why, after stealing it,
Have You thus abandoned it,
And not carried away the stolen prey?
X
Quench
my troubles,
For no one else can soothe them;
And let my eyes behold You,
For You are their light,
And I will keep them for You alone.
XI
Reveal
Your presence,
And let the vision and Your beauty kill me,
Behold the malady
Of love is incurable
Except in Your presence and before Your face.
XII
O
crystal well!
Oh that on Your silvered surface
You would mirror forth at once
Those eyes desired
Which are outlined in my heart!
XIII
Turn
them away, O my Beloved!
I am on the wing:
THE
BRIDEGROOM
Return,
My Dove!
The wounded hart
Looms on the hill
In the air of your flight and is refreshed.
XIV
My
Beloved is the mountains,
The solitary wooded valleys,
The strange islands,
The roaring torrents,
The whisper of the amorous gales;
XV
The
tranquil night
At the approaches of the dawn,
The silent music,
The murmuring solitude,
The supper which revives, and enkindles love.
XVI
Catch
us the foxes,
For our vineyard has flourished;
While of roses
We make a nosegay,
And let no one appear on the hill.
XVII
O
killing north wind, cease!
Come, south wind, that awakens love!
Blow through my garden,
And let its odors flow,
And the Beloved shall feed among the flowers.
XVIII
O
nymphs of Judea!
While amid the flowers and the rose-trees
The amber sends forth its perfume,
Tarry in the suburbs,
And touch not our thresholds.
XIX
Hide
yourself, O my Beloved!
Turn Your face to the mountains,
Do not speak,
But regard the companions
Of her who is traveling amidst strange islands.
XX
THE
BRIDEGROOM
Light-winged
birds,
Lions, fawns, bounding does,
Mountains, valleys, strands,
Waters, winds, heat,
And the terrors that keep watch by night;
XXI
By
the soft lyres
And the siren strains, I adjure you,
Let your fury cease,
And touch not the wall,
That the bride may sleep in greater security.
XXII
The
bride has entered
The pleasant and desirable garden,
And there reposes to her heart's content;
Her neck reclining
On the sweet arms of the Beloved.
XXIII
Beneath
the apple-tree
There were you betrothed;
There I gave you My hand,
And you were redeemed
Where your mother was corrupted.
XXIV
THE
BRIDE
Our
bed is of flowers
By dens of lions encompassed,
Hung with purple,
Made in peace,
And crowned with a thousand shields of gold.
XXV
In
Your footsteps
The young ones run Your way;
At the touch of the fire
And by the spiced wine,
The divine balsam flows.
XXVI
In
the inner cellar
Of my Beloved have I drunk; and when I went forth
Over all the plain
I knew nothing,
And lost the flock I followed before.
XXVII
There
He gave me His breasts,
There He taught me the science full of sweetness.
And there I gave to Him
Myself without reserve;
There I promised to be His bride.
XXVIII
My
soul is occupied,
And all my substance in His service;
Now I guard no flock,
Nor have I any other employment:
My sole occupation is love.
XXIX
If,
then, on the common land
I am no longer seen or found,
You will say that I am lost;
That, being enamored,
I lost myself; and yet was found.
XXX
Of
emeralds, and of flowers
In the early morning gathered,
We will make the garlands,
Flowering in Your love,
And bound together with one hair of my head.
XXXI
By
that one hair
You have observed fluttering on my neck,
And on my neck regarded,
You were captivated;
And wounded by one of my eyes.
XXXII
When
You regarded me,
Your eyes imprinted in me Your grace:
For this You loved me again,
And thereby my eyes merited
To adore what in You they saw
XXXIII
Despise
me not,
For if I was swarthy once
You can regard me now;
Since You have regarded me,
Grace and beauty have You given me.
XXXIV
THE
BRIDEGROOM
The
little white dove
Has returned to the ark with the bough;
And now the turtle-dove
Its desired mate
On the green banks has found.
XXXV
In
solitude she lived,
And in solitude built her nest;
And in solitude, alone
Has the Beloved guided her,
In solitude also wounded with love.
XXXVI
THE
BRIDE
Let
us rejoice, O my Beloved!
Let us go forth to see ourselves in Your beauty,
To the mountain and the hill,
Where the pure water flows:
Let us enter into the heart of the thicket.
XXXVII
We
shall go at once
To the deep caverns of the rock
Which are all secret,
There we shall enter in
And taste of the new wine of the pomegranate.
XXXVIII
There
you will show me
That which my soul desired;
And there You will give at once,
O You, my life!
That which You gave me the other day.
XXXIX
The
breathing of the air,
The song of the sweet nightingale,
The grove and its beauty
In the serene night,
With the flame that consumes, and gives no pains.
XL
None
saw it;
Neither did Aminadab appear
The siege was intermitted,
And the cavalry dismounted
At the sight of the waters.
Footnotes
ARGUMENT
THESE
stanzas describe the career of a soul from its first entrance on
the service of God till it comes to the final state of perfection
-- the spiritual marriage. They refer accordingly to the three
states or ways of the spiritual training -- the purgative, illuminative,
and unitive ways, some properties and effects of which they explain.
The
first stanzas relate to beginners -- to the purgative way. The
second to the advanced -- to the state of spiritual betrothal;
that is, the illuminative way. The next to the unitive way -- that
of the perfect, the spiritual Marriage. The unitive way, that of
the perfect, follows the illuminative, which is that of the advanced.
The
last stanzas treat of the beatific state, which only the already
perfect soul aims at.
EXPLANATION
OF THE STANZAS
NOTE
THE
soul, considering the obligations of its state, seeing that "the
days of man are short;"[11] that
the way of eternal life is straight;[12] that "the
just man shall scarcely be saved;"[13] that
the things of this world are empty and deceitful; that all die
and perish like water poured on the ground;[14] that
time is uncertain, the last account strict, perdition most easy,
and salvation most difficult; and recognizing also, on the other
hand, the great debt that is owing to God, Who has created it solely
for Himself, for which the service of its whole life is due, Who
has redeemed it for Himself alone, for which it owes Him all else,
and the correspondence of its will to His love; and remembering
other innumerable blessings for which it acknowledges itself indebted
to God even before it was born: and also that a great part of its
life has been wasted, and that it will have to render an account
of it all from beginning to the end, to the payment of "the
last farthing,"[15] when
God shall "search Jerusalem with lamps;"[16] that
it is already late, and perhaps the end of the day:[17] in
order to remedy so great an evil, especially when it is conscious
that God is grievously offended, and that He has hidden His face
from it, because it would forget Him for the creature,-the soul,
now touched with sorrow and inward sinking of the heart at the
sight of its imminent risks and ruin, renouncing everything and
casting them aside without delaying for a day, or even an hour,
with fear and groanings uttered from the heart, and wounded with
the love of God, begins to invoke the Beloved and says:
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