A Spiritual Canticle of the Soul and the Bridegroom ChristStanza I

The Bride.

Where hast Thou hidden Thyself,
And left me to my sorrow, O my Beloved!
Thou hast fled like the hart,
Having wounded me,
I ran after Thee, crying; but Thou wert gone,

In this first stanza the soul, enamoured of the Word, the Son of God, the Bridegroom, desiring to be united to Him in the clear and substantial vision, sets before Him the anxieties of its love, complaining of His absence. And this the more so because, now pierced and wounded with love, for which it had abandoned all things, even itself, it has still to endure the absence of the Beloved, Who has not released it from its mortal flesh, that it might have the fruition of Him in the glory of eternity. Hence it cries out,

‘Where hast Thou hidden Thyself?’

2. It is as if the soul said, ‘Show me, O Thou the Word, my Bridegroom, the place where Thou art hidden.’ It asks for the revelation of the divine Essence; for the place where the Son of God is hidden is, according to St. John, ‘the bosom of the Father,’ * which is the divine Essence, transcending all mortal vision, and hidden from all human understanding, as Isaias saith, speaking to God, ‘Verily Thou art a hidden God.’¹ From this we learn that the communication and sense of His presence, however great they may be, and the most sublime and profound knowledge of God which the soul may have in this life, are not God essentially, neither have they any affinity with Him, for in very truth He is still hidden from the soul; and it is therefore expedient for it, amid all these grandeurs, always to consider Him as hidden, and to seek Him in His hiding-place, saying,

‘Where hast Thou hidden Thyself?’

3. Neither sublime communications nor sensible presence furnish any certain proof of His gracious presence; nor is the absence thereof, and aridity, any proof of His absence from the soul. ‘If He come to me, I shall not see Him; if He depart, I shall not understand.’* That is, if the soul have any great communication, or impression, or spiritual knowledge, it must not on that account persuade itself that what it then feels is to enjoy or see God clearly and in His Essence, or that it brings it nearer to Him, or Him to it, however deep such feelings may be. On the other hand, when all these sensible and spiritual communications fail it, and it is itself in dryness, darkness, and desolation, it must not on that account suppose that God is far from it; for in truth the former state is no sign of its being in a state of grace, nor is the latter a sign that it is not; for ‘man knoweth not whether he be worthy of love or hatred’ in the sight of God.

4. The chief object of the soul in these words is not to ask only for that affective and sensible devotion, wherein there is no certainty or evidence of the possession of the Bridegroom in this life; but principally for that clear presence and vision of His Essence, of which it longs to be assured and satisfied in the next. This, too, was the object of the bride who, in the divine song desiring to be united to the Divinity of the Bridegroom Word, prayed to the Father, saying, ‘Show me where Thou feedest, where Thou liest in the midday.’ + For to ask to be shown the place where He fed was to ask to be

Job xix. 11. ' Eccles, ix, x. + Cant. i. 6.

2 shown the Essence of the Divine Word, the Son; because the Father feedeth nowhere else but in His only begotten Son, Who is the glory of the Father. In asking to be shown the place where He lieth in the midday, was to ask for the same thing, because the Son is the sole delight of the Father, Who lieth in no other place, and is comprehended by no other thing, but in and by His beloved Son, in Whom He reposeth wholly, communicating to Him His whole Essence, in the ‘midday,’ which is eternity, where the Father is ever begetting and the Son ever begotten.

5. This pasture, then, is the Bridegroom Word, where the Father feedeth in infinite glory. He is also the bed of flowers whereupon He reposes with infinite delight of love, profoundly hidden from all mortal vision and every created thing. This is the meaning of the bride-soul when she says,

‘Where hast Thou hidden Thyself?’

6, That the thirsty soul may find the Bridegroom, and be one with Him in the union of love in this life— so far as that is possible—and quench its thirst with that drink which it is possible to drink of at His hands in this life, it will be as well—since that is what the soul asks of Him—that we should answer for Him, and point out the special spot where He is hidden, that He may be found there in that perfection and sweetness of which this life is capable, and that the soul may not begin to loiter uselessly in the footsteps of its companions.

7. We must remember that the Word, the Son of God, together with the Father and the Holy Ghost, is hidden in essence and in presence, in the inmost being of the soul. That soul, therefore, that will find Him, must go out from all things in will and affection, and enter into the profoundest self-recollection, and all things must be to it as if they existed not. Hence, St. Augustin saith: “I found Thee not without, O Lord; I sought Thee without in vain, for Thou art within,’ * God is therefore hidden within the soul, and the true contemplative will seek Him there in love, saying,

‘Where hast Thou hidden Thyself?’

8. Thou soul, then, most beautiful of creatures, who so longest to know the place where thy Beloved is, that thou mayest seek Him, and be united to Him, thou knowest now that thou art thyself that very tabernacle where He dwells, the secret chamber of His retreat where He is hidden. Rejoice, therefore, and exult, because all thy good and all thy hope is so near thee as to be within thee; or, to speak more accurately, that thou canst not be without it, ‘for lo, the kingdom of God is within you.’³ So saith the Bridegroom Himself, and His servant, St. Paul, adds: ‘You are the temple of the living God. ’f What joy for the soul to learn that God never abandons it, even in mortal sin; how much less in a state of grace! 9. What more canst thou desire, what more canst thou seek without, seeing that within thou hast thy riches, thy delight, thy satisfaction, thy fulness and thy kingdom; that is, thy Beloved, Whom thou desirest and seekest? Rejoice, then, and be glad in Him with interior recollection, seeing that thou hast Him so near. Then love Him, then desire Him, then adore Him, and go not to seek Him out of thyself, for that will be but distraction and weariness, and thou shalt not find Him; because there is no fruition of Him more certain, more ready, or more intimate than that which is within. io. One difficulty alone remains: though He is within, yet He is hidden. But it is a great matter to know the place of His secret rest, that He may be sought there with certainty. The knowledge of this is that which thou askest for here, O soul, when with loving affection thou cries,

‘Where hast Thou hidden Thyself?’

11. You will still urge and say, How comes it, then, that I find Him not, nor feel Him, if He is within my soul? It is because He is hidden, and because thou hidest not thyself also that thou mayest find Him and feel Him: for he that will seek that which is hidden must enter secretly into the secret place where it is hidden, and when he finds it, he is himself hidden like the object of his search. Seeing, then, that the Bridegroom whom thou lovest is ‘the treasure hidden in the field’ * of thy soul, for which the wise merchant gave all that he had, so thou, if thou wilt find Him. must forget all that is thine, withdraw from all created things, and hide thyself in the secret retreat of the spirit, shutting the door upon thyself—that is, denying thy will in all things—and praying to thy Father in secret. Then thou, being hidden with Him, wilt be conscious of His presence in secret, and wilt love Him, possess Him in secret, and delight in Him in secret, in a way that no tongue or language can express.

12. Courage, then, O soul most beautiful, thou knowest now that thy Beloved, Whom thou desirest, dwelleth hidden within thy breast; strive, therefore, to be truly hidden with Him, and then thou shalt embrace Him, and be conscious of His presence with loving affection. Consider also that He bids thee, by the mouth of Isaias, to come to His secret hiding-place, saying, ‘Go, my people’; that is, all thy faculties, so that no created thing shall enter: ‘be hid a little for a moment,’ * that is, for the moment of this mortal life; for if now during this life which is short, thou wilt ‘with all watchfulness keep thy heart,’ as the wise man saith, God will most assuredly give thee, as He hath promised by the prophet Isaias, ‘hidden treasures and mysteries of secrets.’ ‘The substance of these secrets is God Himself, for He is the substance of the faith, and the object of it, and the faith is the secret and the mystery. And when that which the faith conceals shall be revealed and made manifest, that is the perfection of God, as St. Paul saith, ‘When that which is perfect is come,’ § then shall be revealed to the soul the substance and mysteries of these secrets.

13. Though in this mortal life the soul will never reach to the interior secrets as it will in the next, however much it may hide itself, still, if it will hide itself with Moses, ‘in the hole of the rock ’—which is a real imitation of the perfect life of the Bridegroom, the Son of God— protected by the right hand of God, it will merit the vision of the ‘back parts’ ; || that is, it will reach to such perfection here, as to be united, and transformed by love, in the Son of God, its Bridegroom. So effectually will this be wrought that the soul will feel itself so united to Him, so learned and so instructed in His secrets, that, so far as the knowledge of Him in this life is concerned, it will be no longer necessary for it to say: “Where hast Thou hidden Thyself?’ 14. Thou knowest then, O soul, how thou art to demean thyself if thou wilt find the Bridegroom in His ' secret place. But if thou wilt hear it again, hear this one word full of substance and unapproachable truth: Seek Him in faith and love, without seeking to satisfy thyself in aught, or to understand more than is expedient for thee to know; for faith and love are the two guides of the blind; they will lead thee, by a way thou knowest not, to the secret chamber of God. Faith, the secret of which I am speaking, is the foot that journeys onwards to God, and love is the guide that directs its steps. And while the soul meditates on the mysterious secrets of the faith, it will merit the revelation, on the part of love, of that which the faith involves, namely, the Bridegroom Whom it longs for, in this life by spiritual grace, and the divine union, as we said before,¹² and in the next in essential glory, face to face, hidden now.

15. But meanwhile, though the soul attains to union, the highest state possible in this life, yet inasmuch as He is still hidden from it in the bosom of the Father, as I have said, the soul longing for the fruition of Him in the life to come, ever cries, ‘Where hast Thou hidden Thyself?’

16. Thou doest well, then, O soul, in seeking Him always in His secret place; for thou greatly magnifiest God, and drawest near unto Him, esteeming Him as far beyond and above all thou canst reach. Rest, therefore, neither wholly nor in part, on what thy faculties can embrace; never seek to satisfy thyself with what thou comprehendest of God, but rather with what thou comprehendest not; and never rest on the love of, and delight in, that which thou canst understand and feel, but rather on that which is beyond thy understanding and feeling: this is, as I have said, to seek Him by faith.

17. God is, as I said before,¹³ inaccessible and hidden, and though it may seem that thou hast found Him, felt Him, and comprehended Him, yet thou must ever regard Him as hidden, serve Him as hidden, in secret. Be not thou like many unwise, who, with low views of God, think that when they cannot comprehend Him, or be conscious of His presence, that He is then farther away and more hidden, when the contrary is true, namely, that He is nearer to them when they are least aware of it; as the prophet David saith, ‘He put darkness His covert,’¹⁴ Thus, when thou art near unto Him, the very infirmity of thy vision makes the darkness palpable; thou doest well, therefore, at all times, in prosperity as well as in adversity, spiritual or temporal, to look upon God as hidden, and to say unto Him, ‘Where hast Thou hidden Thyself?

And left me to my sorrow, O my Beloved?’

18. The soul calls Him ‘my Beloved,’ the more to move Him to listen to its cry, for God, when loved, most readily listens to the prayer of him who loves Him. Thus He speaks Himself: ‘If you abide in Me... you shall ask what thing soever you will, and it shall be done to you.’¹⁵ The soul may then with truth call Him Beloved, when it is wholly His, when the heart has no attachments but Him, and when all the thoughts are continually directed to Him. It was the absence of this that made Delila say to Samson, ‘How dost thou say thou lovest me when thy mind is not with me?’ t The mind comprises the thoughts and the feelings. Some there are who call the Bridegroom their Beloved, but He is not really beloved, because their heart is not wholly with Him. Their prayers are, therefore, not so effectual before God, and they shall not obtain their petitions until, persevering in prayer, they fix their minds more constantly upon God and their hearts more wholly in loving affection upon Him, for nothing can be obtained from God but by love.

19. The words, ‘And left me to my sorrow,’ tell us that the absence of the Beloved is the cause of continual sadness in him who loves; for as such an one loves none else, so, in the absence of the object beloved, nothing can console or relieve him. This is, therefore, a test to discern the true lover of God. Is he satisfied with anything less than God? Do I say satisfied? Yea, if a man possess all things, he cannot be satisfied; the greater his possessions the less will be his satisfaction, for the satisfaction of the heart is not found in possessions, but in detachment from all things and in poverty of spirit. This being so, the perfection of love in which we possess God, by a grace most intimate and special, lives in the soul in this life when it has reached it, with a certain satisfaction, which however is not full, for David, notwithstanding all his perfection, hoped for that in heaven saying, ‘I shall be satisfied when Thy glory shall appear.’¹⁷

20. Thus, then, the peace and tranquillity and satisfaction of heart to which the soul may attain in this life are not sufficient to relieve it from its groaning, peaceful and painless though it be, while it hopes for that which is still wanting. Groaning belongs to hope, as the Apostle says of himself and others, though perfect, ‘Ourselves also, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption of the sons of God.’¹⁸ The soul groans when the heart is enamoured, for where love wounds there is heard the groaning of the wounded one, complaining feelingly of the absence of the Beloved, especially when, after tasting of the sweet converse of the Bridegroom, it finds itself suddenly alone, and in aridity, because He has gone away. That is why it cries,

“Thou hast fled like the hart.’

21. Here it is to be observed that in the Canticle of Canticles the bride compares the Bridegroom to the roe and the hart on the mountains—‘My Beloved is like unto a roe and to a fawn of harts’ j—not only because He is shy, solitary, and avoids companions as the hart, but also for his sudden appearance and disappearance. That is His way in His visits to devout souls in order to comfort and encourage them, and in the withdrawing and absence which He makes them feel after those visits in order to try, humble, and teach them. For that purpose He makes them feel the pain of His absence most keenly, as ‘the following words show:

‘Having wounded me.’

22. It is as if it had said, ‘It was not enough that I should feel the pain and grief which Thy absence causes, and from which I am continually suffering, but Thou must, after wounding me with the arrow of Thy love, and increasing my longing and desire to see Thee, run away from me with the swiftness of the hart, and not permit me to lay hold of Thee, even for a moment.’

23. For the clearer understanding of this we are to keep in mind that, beside the many kinds of God’s visits to the soul, in which He wounds it with love, there are commonly certain secret touches of love, which, like a fiery arrow, pierce and penetrate the soul, and burn it with the fire of love. These are properly called the wounds of love, and it is of these the soul is here speaking. These wounds so inflame the will, that the soul becomes so enveloped with the fire of love as to appear consumed thereby. They make it go forth out of itself, and be renewed, and enter on another life, as the phoenix from the fire.

24. David, speaking of this, saith, ‘My heart hath been inflamed, and my reins have been changed; and I am brought to nothing, and I knew not.’¹⁹ The desires and affections, called the reins by the prophet, are all stirred and divinely changed in this burning of the heart, and the soul, through love, melted into nothing, knowing nothing but love. At this time the changing of the reins is a great pain, and longing for the vision of God; it seems to the soul that God treats it with intolerable severity, so much so that the severity with which love treats it seems to the soul unendurable, not because it is wounded—for it considers such wounds to be its salvation—but because it is thus suffering from its love, and because He has not wounded it more deeply so as to cause death, that it may be united to Him in the life of perfect love. The soul, therefore, magnifying its sorrows, or revealing them, says,

‘Having wounded me.’

25. The soul says in effect, ‘Thou hast abandoned me after wounding me, and Thou hast left me dying of love; and then Thou hast hidden Thyself as a hart swiftly running away.’ This impression is most profound in the soul; for by the wound of love, made in the soul by God, the affections of the will lead most rapidly to the possession of the Beloved, whose touch it felt, and as rapidly also, His absence, and its inability to have the fruition of Him here as it desires. Thereupon succeed the groaning because of His absence; for these visitations of God are not like those which recreate and satisfy the soul, because they are rather for wounding than for healing—more for afflicting than for satisfying it, seeing that they tend rather to quicken the knowledge, and increase the longing, and consequently pain with the longing for the vision of God. They are called the spiritual wounds of love, most sweet to the soul and desirable; and, therefore, when it is thus wounded the soul would willingly die a thousand deaths, because these wounds make it go forth out of itself, and enter into God, which is the meaning of the words that follow:

‘T ran after Thee, crying; but Thou wert gone.’

26. There can be no remedy for the wounds of love but from Him who inflicted them. And so the wounded soul, urged by the vehemence of that burning which the wounds of love occasion, runs after the Beloved, crying unto Him for relief. This spiritual running after God has a two-fold meaning. The first is a going forth from all created things, which is effected by hating and despising them; the second, a going forth out of oneself, by forgetting self, which is brought about by the love of God. For when the love of God touches the soul with that vividness of which we are here speaking, it so elevates it, that it goes forth not only out of itself by self-forgetfulness, but it is also drawn away from its own judgment, natural ways and inclinations, crying after God, ‘O my Bridegroom,’ as if saying, ‘By this touch of Thine and wound of love hast Thou drawn me away not only from all created things, but also from myself—for, in truth, soul and body seem now to part—and raised me up to Thyself, crying after Thee in detachment from all things that I might be attached to Thee:

‘Thou wert gone.’

27. As if saying, ‘When I sought Thy presence, I found Thee not; and I was detached from all things without being able to cling to Thee—borne painfully by the gales of love without help in Thee or in myself. This going forth of the soul in search of the Beloved is the rising of the bride in the Canticle: ‘I will rise and go about the city; in the streets and the high ways I will seek Him Whom my soul loveth. I have sought Him and have not found .. . they wounded me.’ * The rising of the bride —speaking spiritually—is from that which is mean to that which is noble; and is the same with the going forth of the soul out of its own ways and inferior love to the ennobling love of God. The bride says that she was wounded because she found him not; f so the soul also says of itself that it is wounded with love and forsaken: that is, the loving soul is ever in pain during the absence of the Beloved, because it has given itself up wholly unto Him, hoping for the reward of its self-surrender, the possession of the Beloved. Still the Beloved withholds Himself while the soul has lost all things, and even itself, for Him; it obtains no compensation for its loss, seeing that it is deprived of Him whom it loveth.

28. This pain and sense of the absence of God is wont to be so oppressive in those who are going onwards to the state of perfection, that they would die if God did not interpose when the divine wounds are inflicted upon them. As they have the palate of the will wholesome, and the mind pure and disposed for God, and as they taste in some degree of the sweetness of divine love, which they supremely desire, so they also suffer supremely; for, having but a glimpse of an infinite good which they are not permitted to enjoy, that is to them an ineffable pain and torment.