sighs and the groans of all those penitent souls who cry unto thee and say, Lord Jesus, look upon us. Spare us, good Lord, if it be but one dram of thy pity and tenderest compassion. O spare us but the least touch more from thine all-powerful hand, if thou art not weary of striking such rocky hearts as now petition thee for thy love. O mollify them, most gracious Lord, mollify them, we beseech thee, with thy dear love towards us. Now that they are a little tender and yielding to thee, melt and dissolve them into the like love towards thee. Enter into all our hearts; O that thou wouldst enter, and fill them with thy love! Overcome them with this powerful engine, thy mighty, thy wonderful love.

Thy love, I say, thy most stupendous love; for no word pleases me so much as love. Give me leave, therefore, to repeat it over again, and to pray thee by thy love, by thy dear and tender love, that thou wilt not pass by this heart of mine (among all the rest), which now at last would fain be replenished with thy love. I lie here in the humblest devotion prostrate at thy feet; and, gasping there before thee, my soul pants and says, O love, inspire me! O love, breathe thy soul and life into me! As thou hast overcome, so possess this heart entirely, and vouchsafe to dwell in me.

And do thou, my incomprehensibly loving Saviour, make me ever thus to sigh and groan, out of the very centre of mine heart, after thee. Make me always to be saying thus to thee; O my life, my joy, my hope, my all, do not despise this languishing soul, which entreats thee to dwell in it by thy surpassing love. Draw me after thee and touch me so that I may look upon nothing so much as thy love. Turn my heart about, and bend it wholly to thy love. Make me to speak of nothing with such delight as of thy love; to breathe nothing, to study nothing, to desire, to do nothing, but only love.

Let no day, at least, pass without some serious meditations of thy love. Let no sun shine but what shows me thee and thy love shining brighter by far upon me. Let no night close mine eyes, but do thou shut up a sense of thyself and thy love in my breast. Let no friend come to visit me, but give him thy love to bring along with him, and let him present thyself unto me. Let the sight of him enkindle thy love in me. Let the embraces of him knit me in faster affection to thee. Let

the remembrance of him and his kindness recal to mind thy infinitely greater love to me. Let every motion of my heart towards him rest at last in the love of thee, who art the hope and the satisfaction both of him and me.

Still may I therefore think of thee more frequently. Still may I desire thee more passionately. Still may I obey thee more universally. May the following acts of love and virtue still outstrip the former, and one conquest of myself make way for a nobler. May thine almighty love still grow and prevail, till there be no affection that dare appear, no passion that dare presume to show its head, against the sovereign power of thy love in mine heart.

And now, O my Lord, I know not how to leave thee until I hear thee say thou lovest me. Prostrate still will I here lie at thy feet; for I cannot have the heart to rise up again, unless thou wilt speak that kind, that gracious word, and tell me that thou dost not cease to love me. Nay, I die unless thou lovest me. I shall make my grave here, in this very place, and expire with these words in my mouth; LORD, WHETHER I

LIVE OR DIE IT MATTERS NOT; LET ME BUT KNOW THAT THOU LOVEST ME.

And may I be so bold as to conclude thou hast some love to me, because I feel my heart beat thus passionately towards thee, and my soul thirsts and cries thus after thee? Will it not be too great a presumption to think thou hast not forsaken me, because I cannot forsake my request, but above all things long and labour to be beloved of thee? Is this love thou hast wrought in my heart to thee an encouragement to hope thou lovest me? Truly then, my Lord, I am well satisfied. Then I know thou bearest a favour to me. For my soul follows hard after thee; it cleaves unto thee; it loves thy memory, and delights itself in thy commandments.

It says continually, Nothing but more of thy love; nothing but abundance of thy love. I open my heart unto thy exuberant love. I expose myself to the power of thy transcendent love. I choose and desire the pleasures of thy love, above all the delights wherewith the world can entertain me; above the admired heaps of wealth, and the dazzling heights of honour; above the loudest praises of fame, and the bewitching applause of numerous spectators; above the charms of beauty, and the

more enticing delights of curious knowledge: nay, above the solid joys of health, and the most necessary refreshments of nature; above all that even thine own bounty can give to those that love thee.

O let me but love thee; make me but always thus to love thee, always despise all other delights compared with those of loving thee; do but fill my heart with that love and with those delights, and I am perfectly satisfied. I am at rest now I have given myself to thee entirely; and if I had a thousand hearts, they should be devoted to thy service with the most affectionate love to thee.

But yet, alas! when I think of thy wondrous love, I am apt to conclude again that I did amiss to say I was satisfied. All this, upon better thoughts, seems a great deal too little; and I am as short, methinks, of thy love, as if I loved thee not at all. For what have I given thee, when I have paid thee all my acknowledgments? What have I bestowed on thee, when I have given thee myself, and absolutely offered all my affections to thee? What is my heart, what are a thousand such hearts as this worth, that I should think such a present will be of any esteem with thee? If all my life were nothing else but the most affectionate, the most cheerful obedience to thee, what requital should I have made thee for all thy love to me?

Alas! I have so little ability to do any thing worthy of thee, that I have not the skill how to speak as becomes me of my duty to thee. What do I talk of acknowledgments to thee? that is as if I could number or value thy favours. And it is a worse absurdity to speak of giving thee my affections, (as if I were not a debtor to thee,) and of bestowing my heart on thee; for that is as if I had any thing I received not from thee. But it is worst of all (I am ashamed of it) to mention a requital of thy favours; for that is as if they were so small or so few as to admit of any return like a recompense unto thee.

No, no, I am nothing at all; I have nothing, I can do just nothing, but what is thine more than mine, if it be worth any thing. I here most solemnly protest that I think myself indebted to thee for all I have. I myself am thine; my love is thine; my prayers and desires are thine; my praises and thanksgivings are thine; so is my faith and my hope, my comforts and my joys, they are all thine. I cannot so much as

confess my debts and obligations, but it is from thee. I cannot be sensible of my faults, but I contract a new debt to thee. That I can so much as see and say I am nothing, I owe it unto thee.

What shall I do, therefore? how shall I express myself to thee? or in what manner shall I approach thee? All that I can think of is only this, still to cast down myself in the humblest devotion before thee, and, all thawed and dissolved with thy love, to pour out my heart unto thee, saying, LORD, WORK THINE OWN GOOD PLEASURE IN ME. Make me what thou thyself best likest and lovest; and when thou hast loved and obliged me as much as thou pleasest here, complete thine own benefits, and crown them with as great a glory as thine own great love can bestow hereafter.

CHAP. XX.

The Conclusion.

AND here I think it is best to put a period to this discourse, which is already come to a competent length. For where can I leave you better than in the arms of our Lord; entirely resolved into his will, and wishing to be united to him, and made one spirit with him, as much as he pleases? And yet how hard is it to cease to desire that happiness, in its utmost perfection! How can we choose but ask him leave, at least to repeat that wish over again? The very thoughts of it make the ravished soul thrust itself with the more ardent affection into the bosom of his love. They stir it up to ply him with new petitions, that he will draw it more strongly after him, and knit it more closely to him; that he will inspire it with more of his love, and, by perfecting his likeness in it, inseparably unite it to himself.

O blessed Jesus, surely thou wilt appear: I believe in due time thou wilt appear. I am fully persuaded thou wilt not fail to make good thy word, of coming to fetch us to thyself, and making us exceedingly more happy than now, in our most enlarged thoughts, we can conceive. I see, methinks, the sky eleave, and the day break, and the archangel, thy harbinger,

begin to look forth and thrust his head out of the clouds: which makes my heart leap for joy, as if it would leave this world, and instantly go to meet thee, my infinitely dearer Saviour.

For what splendour is there in gold, that I should desire it? what brightness in precious stones? what ornament in the most sumptuous apparel, compared with that good which our hope in thee supposes, and sets before us a? When thou who reignest over all creatures, shalt reveal thyself to mankind, sitting most magnificently upon a lofty throne; when innumerable millions of angels shall be seen about thee, and when the kingdom of heaven, which now is such a secret, shall be set wide open before all our eyes.

O let the thoughts of the trump of God, which shall then sound, awaken my soul more powerfully, to lift up itself to look for thee, and for that glorious sight thou wilt bless us withal at thy appearing! O let the faith that is in my heart grow daily more active, and work in me a most vigorous love of thee! And let my love be enlarged till this heart be stretched to its utmost capacity, and thou, the infinite Good, still fill and overflow it. For I am afraid thou shouldst come and find me unprepared for thee. I would not for all the world be found unready to meet thee, and unfit for the blessings thou wilt bring along with thee.

If an heart that desires thee most passionately be of any worth; if thou canst have any kind thoughts of a mind that prefers thee and thy love above all other things; if to love thine appearing far more than the most glorious condition wherein a man can possibly appear in mortal flesh, can find any grace in thine eyes; behold then a soul that is able to say, through thy great goodness, that it most earnestly longs for thee. See here an heart that desires to be like thee; that had rather die than displease thee; and that will welcome thy coming with more joy than a sick man, wearied with the restlessness of a long night, doth the morning light; or a traveller doth his much desired home; or a virgin espoused doth her long absent bridegroom, the dearly beloved of her soul.

a Greg. Nyssen. Orat. v. in Beatitud. [tom. i. p.

810 B.]