Sermons on the Song of Songs74 Sermon LXXIV. Of the Visitations of the Bridegroom, the Word, to the Holy soul, and the secrecy with which they are made. St. Bernard states his own experience of this, with great humility and modesty, for the edification of his hearers

1 Return, my Beloved.''—Cant. ii. 17.

She says, Return. It is manifest that He, whom she thus recalls, is not present; and yet that He had been present, not long before, since she seems to call Him back, in the moment of His departure. A recall which appears so untimely is a sign of the great love of the one, and of the great charm of the other. Who are they who are such followers after charity, whose affection is so devoted and so untiring, that it allows neither intermission nor rest in the pursuit of it? I remember that I promised to apply this verse to the Word and to the soul; but I confess that I have great need of the help of the Word Himself in order that this may be done with ever so little an approach to a worthy treatment of the subject Certainly this task would have befitted one who had more experience and a fuller knowledge of the secrets of Divine love than I; but I cannot allow myself to be wanting in what my office requires of me, nor do I wish to refuse your earnest requests. I see the danger before me; but you oblige me, so that I cannot avoid it You oblige me (to use the words of the Psalmist) to exercise myself in great matters, and in things too high for me (Ps. cxxxi. 1). Alas! I fear that it may be said to me: ' Wherefore dost thou relate My delights, and take My mysteries into thy mouth?' Yet listen to me, for though I tremble to speak, I am unable to be silent. Perhaps my apprehension itself will be an excuse for my boldness, especially if it tend to your edification; and perhaps God will have regard to these tears also. Return, says the Bride. It is well. He departed; He is recalled. Who shall discover to me the mystery of this mutability? Who shall explain to me worthily the going and the returning of the 2. Let him comprehend these things who is capable of so doing. But let us in the exposition of this sacred and mystical discourse proceed carefully and with simplicity of purpose, and follow the example of the Scripture itself, which declares the hidden wisdom in our human words, indeed, but in a mystery; and which, in order to make God known to our powers of apprehension, makes use of figurative language, and imparts to human minds those precious truths, the unknown and invisible things of God, by means of similitudes drawn from things apparent to the senses, and, so to speak, proffers the draught of truth in cups formed of a material of little value. Let us, then, follow the example of this discourse; let us say that thWoRD of God, who is God, and the Bridegroom of the soul, comes and goes to and from the soul as it pleases Him, provided only that we bear in mind that these events take place by the inward sense of the soul, not by the movements of the Word. For example, when the soul feels the influence of grace, it recognises that the Word is present; and when it does not feel this influence, it complains of His absence, and asks Him to return again, saying with the Psalmist: My heart said unto Thee, Thy Face, Lord, will I seek (Ps. xxvii. 8). And how should the soul do otherwise than seek Him, inasmuch as when that Spouse so dearly loved by her is withdrawn, it is not possible for her, I do not say to wish for, but even to think of, any other. Nothing then remains to her but to seek Him earnestly when He is absent, to recall Him when He departs. Thus, then, the Word is recalled; namely, by the earnest longing of the soul; that is to say, of the soul which has once had the happiness to taste how sweet is His goodness. Is not an earnest desire a voice? It is indeed, and a powerful one. For the Lord, says the Psalmist, has heard the desire of the humble (Ps. x. 17). When, then, the Word departs, the one and constant cry of the soul, its single desire, its one and continual demand, is as it were a constantly repeated Return, until He come.

3. Show me now a soul that the Bridegroom-Word is wont frequently to visit, to whom intimate knowledge of Him has given boldness, in whom tasting has caused hunger, and contempt for all things repose, and I shall instantly assign to it the voice and the name of Bride, and apply to it the words that we are here considering. Such is, in fact, she who is here introduced as speaking. For she gives sufficient proof, in recalling the Bridegroom, that she has merited His presence, although not the full abundance of His graces. For otherwise it would be a call, not a recall, that she would give. That it is here a recall is marked by the word Return, and perhaps He withdrew Himself for that very reason, that He might be recalled with the 4. It is, then, quite evident that changes take place in the soul by the going and returning of the Word. For He says: I go away, and come again to you (John xiv. 28); and again: A little while and ye shall not see Me, and again a little while and ye shall see Me (John xvi. 16). O truly a little while I but how long a little while may be! O kind and loving Lord, how canst Thou call the time in which I do not behold Thee a little while'? Saving the deference due to my Lord'sword, it seems to me a long time, and even excessively long. Yet each of these estimates is true, for it is short if our merits be considered, but long if measured by our desires and prayers. You have each of these senses in that saying of the Prophet: Though He tarry, wait for Him, because He shall surely come, He shall not tarry (Hab. ii. 3). How can it be that He shall not tarry, and yet shall make delay, except that though He come with sufficient quickness, if our deservings be considered, He does not come quickly enough for our desires? Now, the soul that loves the Lord is carried away by the fervour of its prayers, is led on by its eager longing, forgets altogether the smallness of its merits, shuts its eyes to the majesty of the Bridegroom, and opens them only to the happiness which it hopes to enjoy; regards only His saving grace, and acts confidingly in that. Finally, without fear and without shame, it recalls the Word, and confidently asks for its former delights, calling Him with its habitual freedom, not Lord, but Beloved. Return, she says, my Beloved; and adds: Be Thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether. But of this more hereafter.

5. But now bear with my foolishness for a little. I wish to tell 6. You will ask, then, how, since the ways of His access are thus incapable of being traced, I could know that He was present? But He is living and full of energy, and as soon as He has entered into me He has quickened my sleeping soul, has aroused and softened and goaded my heart, which was in a state of torpor, and hard as a stone. He has begun to pluck up and destroy, to plant and to build, to water the dry places, to illuminate the gloomy spots, to throw open those which were shut close, to inflame with warmth those which were cold, as also to straighten its crooked paths and make its rough places smooth, so that my soul might bless the Lord, and all that is within me praise His Holy Name. Thus, then, the Bridegroom-Word, though He has several times entered into me, has never made His coming apparent to my sight, hearing, or touch. It was not by His motions that He was recognised by me, nor could I tell by any of my senses that He had penetrated to the depths of my being. It was, as I have already said, only by the revived activity of my heart that I was enabled to recognise His Presence; and to know the power of His sacred Presence by the sudden departure of vices and the strong restraint put upon all carnal affections. From the discovery and conviction of my secret faults I have had good reason to admire the depth of His wisdom; His goodness and kindness have become known in the amendment, whatever it may amount to, of my life; while in the reformation and renewal of the spirit of my mind, that is, of my inward man, I have perceived, in a certain degree, the excellency of the Divine beauty, and have been rapt in wonder and amazement at His greatness and majesty, as I meditated upon all these things.

7. But when the Word withdrew Himself, all these spiritual powers and faculties began to droop and languish, as if the fire had been withdrawn from a bubbling pot; and this is to me the sign of His departure. Then my soul is necessarily sad and depressed until He shall return and my heart grow warm within me, as it is wont, which indeed is the indication to me that He has come back again. After having, then, such an experience of the happiness derived from the indwelling Word, what wonder that I should adopt for my own the language of the Bride, who recalls Him when He has departed, since I am influenced by a desire, not indeed as powerful, but at least similar to hers? As long as I live that utterance shall be in my mind, and I will employ, for the recalling of the Word, that word of recall, which I find here in the word Return. And as often as He shall leave me, so often shall He be called back by my voice; nor will I cease to send my cries, as it were, after Him as He departs, expressing my ardent desire that He should return, that He should restore to me the joy of His salvation, the life-giving Presence of Himself. I confess to you, my children, that I take pleasure in nothing else in the meantime, until He is present who is alone pleasing to me. And this I pray, that He will not return empty, but full of grace and truth (John i. 14) as it is His wont to do, and as He did yesterday and the day before it. In which it seems to me that He will be like unto a roe or a young Aart, for His truth has the piercing eyes of the one, and His grace the joy and lightsomeness of the other.

8. Each of these is necessary to me: truth, that I may not be able to hide myself before Him; and grace, that I may not desire to do so. If the one be not accompanied by the other, then either His severity is burdensome without His gladsomeness, or that may seem unmeasured without the gravity of the former, and thus the visitation of the Word will be imperfect For truth is bitter, if it be not seasoned with grace; and the fervour of devotion is sometimes unmeasured and tends to lightness, if it be not restrained by the bond 9. This being the case, neither gift is sufficient without the other. Nor is this all, for it is not even an advantage to receive one without the other. How do we know this? We learn it from the Scripture: To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin (James iv. 17); and, again: That servant, which knew his Lord's Will... and did not according to His Will, shall be beaten with many stripes (Luke xil 47). That is, as regards truth. Now, as regards grace, it is written: After the sop Satan entered into him (John xiii. 27). This speaks of Judas, who, after he had received a gift of grace, because he did not walk in truth and sincerity with the Master of truth, gave place in himself to the devil. Listen, again: He fed them with the finest of the wheat, and with honey out of the rock He satisfied them. Whom? * The enemies of the Lord have lied unto Him (Ps. lxxxi. 16, 15). Those whom He had nourished with honey and with wheat lied unto Him and became His enemies, because they did not join truth to grace. Of whom it is said in another place: The children that are strangers have lied to me, strange children have faded away, and have halted in their path (Ps. xviii. 45, Douay). How could they do otherwise than halt, seeing that they were content to support themselves on one foot, that of grace, and not to use the other, that is, of truth? Therefore their time [of punishment shall endure for ever (Ps. lxxxi. 15) with that of their prince, who also himself abode not in the truth, but was a liar from the beginning (John viii. 44), and therefore it was said to him: Thau hast corrupted thy wisdom by reason of thy beauty (Ezek.

1 o. Do you inquire what is that beauty so dangerous and so hurtful? It is the beauty which is thine. Perhaps you do not understand me when I say this, and I will put it in plainer language. It is the beauty which is of a personal and individual kind. We do not blame the gift of God, but the use which is made of it. For if you notice, it is not said that Lucifer lost wisdom by reason of beauty, but of his beauty. And if I do not mistake, the beauty of an angel is the same as that of a soul, that is, it is wisdom. For what is either the one or the other without wisdom, but a shapeless heap of unorganized matter? But with wisdom, either is not only formed and organized, but is full of beauty. But when it is appropriated in a selfish manner, it is forthwith lost, so that when it is said that he has lost wisdom by reason of his beauty, it is meant that he lost wisdom by his own wisdom. For when it is thus appropriated it is instantly lost Because he was wise in his own eyes, because he did not give the glory to God, because he did not render back grace for grace, because he did not walk in grace and use it according to truth, but abused it according to his own will; that is the reason why he lost it, or rather that constitutes the loss of it For to appropriate it thus is, in fact, to lose it. If Abraham says the Apostle, were justified by works, he hath whereof to glory>, but not before God (Rom. iv. 2). And thus it is with me. I am not in safety, because I have lost whatever I do not possess in God. What can there be, in fact, so completely lost as that which does not rest in God as its security? What is death, but the deprivation of life? And in the same way everlasting loss (perditio) is nothing else than alienation from God Woe unto you who are wise in your own eyes, and prudent in your own sight! (Is. v. 21); of you it is said: will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent (1 Cor. L 19). They have lost wisdom, because their wisdom has caused them to be lost. How could they help losing all who were themselves lost? And how could those be otherwise than lost whom God knows not [as His own?

11. Assuredly the foolish virgins, which are not, as I think, otherwise foolish, than as, believing themselves to be wise, they became foolish, these, I say, are doomed to hear from God, know you not (Matt xxv. 12). And also those who assumed glory to themselves because of the grace [to work miracles which had been bestowed upon them, shall, notwithstanding these wonderful works, hear the same declaration, never knew you (Matt. vii. 23). So that it is plainly evident, from all that has been said, that grace does not profit the individual when it is not accompanied by truth and sincerity of intention, but is rather a hindrance to him. Each of these is assuredly found in the Bridegroom. Grace and truth, says John the Baptist, came by Jesus Christ (John i. 17). If, then, the Lord Jesus Christ (who is the Word of God, the Bridegroom of the soul) knocks at the GOD IS TO BE SOUGHT IN DUE TIME, PLACE, AND MANNER. THAT NOW IS THE ACCEPTABLE TIME, IN WHICH ANYONE MAY FIND GOD FOR HIMSELF BY GOOD WORKS, AND MAY WORK OUT HIS SALVATION.

1 By night on my bed I sought Him whom my soul /oveth.'—Cant. iii. 1.

He Bridegroom has not returned at the voice and according to the prayer of her who is recalling Him. Wherefore? It is that the yearning for Him may increase, that the affection may be proved, that the faculty of love may be exercised. It is not indignation, then, that actuates Him, but a concealment of love. But since, when called, He has not come, it remains that He should be sought, if, haply, He may be found. According to the words of the Lord, He that seeketh findeth (Matt. vii. 8). The words used to recall Him were, as you remember, such as these: Return, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart. When the Word did not return at this call, for the reasons above given, the loving Bride became still more desirous of His presence, and set herself with increased earnestness to the task of seeking Him. First, she seeks Him on her bed, but finds Him not. Then she rises, makes a circuit of the city, goes and comes through the streets and squares, but she neither meets Him nor beholds Him at a distance. She questions those whom she meets, but learns no assured tidings of Him. It is not through one street only, or during one night, that she continues this search, and experiences this failure; for she says, ' I sought Him by night (per noctes).' What desire, and what ardour must she feel, that she does not blush to rise and appear in the night, to traverse the city, to interrogate openly and repeatedly all those she meets