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参¦Ò书¥Ø¡G

 

¡]¤@¡^History of the Christian Church,Vol5,by P.Schaff,1907.

¡]¤G¡^St.Bernard of Clairvaux,by L.Cristiani,1975.

¡]¤T¡^Life and Teaching of St.Bernard.by A.Luddy,1926.

¡]¥|¡^A Dictionary of Hymnology,by John Julian,1905.

 

 

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Works about St. Bernard of Clairvaux

 

¡±                     Saint Bernard -- from Encyclopedia Britannica (9th ed.)

¡±                     August 20. -- St. Bernard -- from from Lives of the Saints with Reflections for Every Day of the Year

¡±                     St. Bernard of Clairvaux -- from The New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge

 

SAINT BERNARD of Clairvaux

 

(9th Edition of The Encyclopaedia Britannica - Vol. III, 1878)

 

BERNARD, ST, one of the most illustrious Christian teachers and representatives of monasticism in the Middle Ages, was born at Fontaines, near Dijon, in Burgundy, in 1091. The son of a knight and vassal of the duke of Burgundy who perished in the first crusade, Bernard may have felt for a time the temptations of a military career, but the influence of a pious mother and his own inclinations towards a life of meditation and study led him to the cloister. While still a youth he is said to have been "marvellously cogitative" ("mire cogitativus," St Bern. Op., vol. ii. col. 1063), and the ascendancy of his mind and character were soon shown. He joined the small monastery of Citeaux in 1113 when twenty-two years of age, and such were the effects of his own devotion and eloquent enthusiasm in commending a religious life, that he drew after him not only his two younger brothers, but also his two elder ones, Guido and Gerard, both of whom had naturally taken to soldiering, and the elder of whom was married and had children. The effect of his preaching is said to have been that " mothers hid their sons,  wives their husbands, companions their friends," lest they should be drawn away by his persuasive earnestness.

 

The monastery of Citeaux had attracted St Bernard not only on account of its neighbourhood (it was only a few miles distant from Dijon), but by its reputation for austerity. The monks were few and very poor. They were under an Englishman of the name of Stephen Harding, originally from Dorsetshire, whose aim was to restore the Benedictine rule to its original simplicity and give a new impulse to the monastic movement. In Bernard, Harding found a congenial spirit. No amount of self-mortification could exceed his ambition. He strove to overcome his bodily senses altogether and to live entirely absorbed in religious meditation. Sleep he counted a loss, and compared it to death. Food was only taken to keep him from fainting. The most menial offices were his delight, and even then his humility looked around for some lowlier employment. Fortunately he loved nature, and found a constant solace in her rocks and woods. "Trust one who has tried it," he writes in one of his epistles, "you will find more in woods than in books; trees and stones will teach you what you can never learn from masters." ("Expertocrede: aliquid amplius invenies in silvis quam in libris; ligna et lapides docebunt te quod a magistris audire non possis," Epist. 106.)

 

So ardent a nature soon found a sphere of ambition for itself. The monks of Citeaux, from being a poor and unknown company, began to attract attention after the accession of St Bernard and his friends. The fame of their self-denial was noised abroad, and out of their lowliness and abnegation came as usual distinction and success. The small monastery was unable to contain the inmates that gathered within it, and it began to send forth colonies in various directions. St Bernard had been two years an inmate, and the penetrating eye of the abbot had discovered beneath all his spiritual devotion a genius of rare power, and especially fitted to aid his measures of monastic reform. He was chosen accordingly to head a band of devotees who issued from Citeaux in 1115 in search of a new home. This band, with Bernard at their head, journeyed northwards till they reached a spot in the diocese of Langres--a thick-wooded valley, wild and gloomy, but with a clear stream running through it. Here they settled and laid the foundations of the famous abbey of Clairvaux, with which St Bernard's name remains associated in history The hardships which the monks endured for a time in the new abode were such as to drive them almost to despair, and their leader fell seriously ill, and was only rescued from what seemed impending death by the kind compulsion of his friend William of Champeaux, the great doctor of the age, who besought and received the direction of Bernard for a year from his superior at Citeaux. Thanks to his considerate friend the abbot of Clairvaux was forced to abandon the cares of his new establishment, and in retirement and a healthful regimen to seek renewed health . The effect was all that could be desired, and in a few years Bernard had not only recovered his strength, but had begun that marvellous career of literary and ecclesiastical activity, of incessant correspondence and preaching which was to make him in some respects the most influential man of his age.

 

Gradually the influence of Bernard's character began to extend beyond his monastery. His friendship with William of Champeaux and others gave currency to his opinions, and from his simple retreat came by voice or pen an authority before which many bowed, not only within his own order but within the church at large. This influence was notably shown after the death of Pope Honorius II. in 1130. Two rival popes assumed the purple, each being able to appeal to his election by a section of the cardinals. Christendom was divided betwixt the claims of Anacletus II. and Innocent II. The former was backed by a strong Italian party, and drove his adversary from Rome and even from Italy. Innocent took refuge in France. The king, Louis the Fat, espoused his cause, and having summoned a council of archbishops and bishops, he laid his commands on the holy abbot of Clairvaux to be present also and give the benefit of his advice. With reluctance Bernard obeyed the call, and from the depths of seclusion was at once plunged into the heart of the great contest which was afflicting the Christian world. The king and prelates put the question before him in such a way as to invite his decision and make him arbiter. After careful deliberation he gave his judgment in favour of Innocent and not only so, but from that time forward threw himself with characteristic fervour and force into the cause for which he had declared. Not only France, but, England, Spain, and Germany were won to the side of Innocent, who, banished from Rome, in the words of St Bernard, was "accepted by the world." He travelled from place to place with the powerful abbot by his side, who also received him in his humble cell at Clairvaux. Apparently, however, the meanness of the accommodation and the scantiness of the fare (one small fowl was all that could be got for the Pope's repast), left no wish on the part of Innocent or his retinue to continue their stay at Clairvaux. He found a more dainty reception elsewhere, but nowhere so powerful a friend.

Through the persuasions of Bernard, the emperor took up arms for Innocent; and Anacletus was driven to shut himself up in the impregnable castle of St Angelo, where his death opened the prospect of a united Christendom. A second anti-pope was elected, but after a few months retired from the field, owing also, it is said, to St Bernard's influence. A great triumph was gained not without a struggle, and the abbot of Clairvaux remained master of the ecclesiastical situation. No name stood higher in the Christian world.

 

The chief events which fill up his subsequent life attest the greatness of his influence. These were his contest with the famous Abelard, and his preaching of the second crusade.

 

Peter Abelard was twelve years older than Bernard, and had risen to eminence before Bernard had entered the gates of Citeaux. His first intellectual encounter had been with Bernard's aged friend William of Champeaux, whom he had driven from his scholastic throne at Paris by the superiority of his dialectics. His subsequent career, his ill-fated passion for Heloise, his misfortunes, his intellectual restlessness and audacity, his supposed heresies, had all shed additional renown on his name; and when a council was summmoned at Sens in 1140, at which the French king and his nobles and all the prelates of the realm were to be present, Abelard dared his enemies to impugn his opinions. St Bernard had been amongst those most alarmed by Abelard's teaching, and had sought those to stir up alike Pope, princes, and bishops to take measures against him. He did not readily, however, take up the gauntlet thrown down by the great hero of the schools. He professed himself a " stripling too unversed in logic to meet the giant practiced in every kind of debate." But "all were come prepared for a spectacle", and he was forced into the field. To the amazement of all, when the combatants met and all seemed ready for the intellectual fray, Abelard refused to proceed with his defense. After several passages considered to be heretical had been read from his books he made no reply, but at once appealed to Rome and left the assembly. Probably he saw enough in the character of the meeting to assure him that it formed a very different audience from those which he had been accustomed to sway by his subtlety and eloquence, and had recourse to this expedient to gain time and foil his adversaries. Bernard followed up his assault by a letter of indictment to the Pope against the heretic. The Pope responded by a sentence of condemnation, and Abelard was silenced. Soon after he found refuge at Cluny with the kindly abbot, Peter the Venerable, who brought about something of a reconciliation betwixt him and Bernard. The latter, however, never heartily forgave the heretic. He was too zealous a churchman not to see the danger there is in such a spirit as Abelard's, and the serious consequences to which it might lead.

 

In all things Bernard was enthusiastically devoted to the church, and it was this enthusiasm which led him at last into the chief error of his career. Bad news reached France of the progress of the Turkish arms in the East. The capture of Edessa in 1144 sent a thrill of alarm and indignation throughout Christian Europe, and the French king was urged to send forth a new army to reclaim the Ho]y Land from the triumphant infidels. The Pope was consulted, and encouraged the good work, delegating to St Bernard the office of preaching the new crusade. Weary with growing years and cares the abbot of Clairvaux seemed at first reluctant, but afterwards threw himself with all his accustomed power into the new movement, and by his marvellous eloquence kindled the crusading madness once more throughout France and Germany. Not only the French king, Louis VII., but the German emperor, Conrad III., placed himself at the head of a vast army and set out for the East by way of Constantinople. Detained there too long by the duplicity of the Greeks, and divided in counsel, the Christian armies encountered frightful hardships, and were at length either dispersed or destroyed. Utter ruin and misery followed in the wake of the wildest enthusiasm. Bernard became an object of abuse as the great preacher of a movement which had terminated so disastrously, and wrote in humility an apologetic letter to the Pope, in which the divine judgments are made as usual accountable for human folly. This and other anxieties bore heavily upon even so sanguine a spirit. Disaster abroad and heresy at home left him no peace, while his body was worn to a shadow by his fasting and labour. It was, as he said, " the season of calamities." Still to the last, with failing strength, sleepless, unable to take solid food, with limbs swollen and feeble, his spirit was unconquerable. "Whenever a great necessity called him forth," as his friend and biographer Godfrey says, "his mind conquered all his bodily infirmities, he was endowed with strength and to the astonishment of all who saw him, he could surpass even robust men in his endurance of fatigue." He continued absorbed in public affairs, and dispensed his care and advice in all directions often about the most trivial is well as the most important affairs. Finally the death of his associates and friends left him without any desire to live. He longed rather "to depart and be with Christ." To his sorrowing monks, whose earnest prayers were supposed to have assisted his partial recovery when near his end, he said, " Why do you thus detain a miserable man? Spare me. Spare me, and let me depart." He expired August 20, 1153, shortly after his disciple Pope Eugenius III.

 

His character appears in our brief sketch as that of a noble enthusiast, selfish in nothing save in so far as the church had become a part of himself, ardent in his sympathies and friendships, tenacious of purpose, terrible in indignation. He spared no abuse, and denounced what he deemed corruption to the Pope as frankly as to one of his own monks. He is not a thinker nor a man in advance of his age, but much of the best thought and piety of his time are sublimed in him to a sweet mystery and rapture of sentiment which has still power to touch amidst all its rhetorical exaggerations.

 

His writings are very numerous, consisting of epistles, sermons, and theological treatises. The best edition of his works is that of Father Mabillon, printed at Paris in 1690 in 2 vols. folio, and reprinted more than once--finally in 1854 in 4 vols. 8vo. His life, written by his friend and disciple Godfrey, is also contained in this edition of his works. (J.T.)

 

Encyclopaedia Britannica

Ninth Edition, Vol. III

Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1878


August 20. -- St. Bernard

By Alban Butler

 

 

 

                                            August 20. -- ST. BERNARD.

 

         Bernard was born at the castle of Fontaines, in Burgundy. The grace of his person and the vigor of his intellect filled his parents with highest hopes, and the world lay bright and smiling before him when he renounced it forever and joined the monks at Citeaux. All his brothers followed Bernard to Citeaux except Nivard, the youngest, who was left to be the  stay of his father in his old age. "You will now be heir of everything," said they to him, as they departed. "Yes," said the boy; "you leave me earth, and keep heaven for yourselves; do you call that fair?" And he too left the world. At length their aged father came to exchange wealth and honor for the poverty of a monk of Clairvaux. One only sister remained  behind; she was married, and loved the world and its pleasures. Magnificently dressed, she visited Bernard; he refused to see her, and only at last consented to do so, not as her brother, but as the minister of Christ. The words he then spoke moved her so much that, two years later, she retired to a convent with her husband's holy example attracted so many novices that other monasteries were erected, and our Saint was appointed abbot of that of Clairvaux.

         Unsparing with himself, he at first expected too much of his brethren, who were disheartened at his severity; but soon perceiving his error, he led them forward, by the sweetness of his correction and the mildness of his rule, to wonderful perfection. In spite of his desire to lie hid, the fame of his sanctity spread far and wide, and many churches asked for him as their Bishop. Through the help of Pope Eugenius III., his former subject, he escaped this dignity; yet his retirement was continually invaded: the poor and the weak sought his protection; bishops, kings, and popes applied to him for advice; and at length Eugenius himself charged him to preach the crusade. By his fervor, eloquence, and miracles Bernard kindled the enthusiasm of Christendom, and two splendid armies were despatched against the infidel. Their defeat was only due, said the Saint, to their own sins. Bernard died in 1153. His most precious writingshave earned for him the titles of the last of the Fathers and a Doctor of Holy Church.

         Reflection. -- "St. Bernard used to say to those who applied for admission to the monastery, "If you desire to enter here, leave at the threshold the body you have brought with you from the world; here there is room only for your soul." Let us constantly ask ourselves St. Bernard's daily question, "To what end didst thou come hither?"

 


BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX

 

New Schaff-Herzog Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge, Vol. II: Basilica - Chambers

 

I.                   Life and Far-reaching Activity.

           Bernard's Importance (¡± 1).

            Early Career. Abbot of Clairvaux (¡± 2).

               Activity for Innocent II and against Anacletus II (¡± 3).

       The Second Crusade (¡± 4).

II.      Ecclesiastical and Theological Significance.

             Asceticism (¡± 1).

Study of the Bible (¡± 2).

            Grace and Works (¡± 3).

Bernard's Mysticism (¡± 4).

Doctrine of the Church (¡± 5) .

Monasticism (¡± 6).

III.        Writings.

IV.        Hymns.

 

 

                                         I. Life and Far-reaching Activity:

 

                                                     Bernard's Importance.

 

St. Bernard of Clairvaux (Bernardus Clarœvallis) is one of the most prominent personalities of the twelfth century, of the entire Middle Ages, and of church history in general. He gave a new impulse to monastic life, influenced ecclesiastical affairs outside of monasticism in the most effective manner, and contributed not a little toward awakening an inner piety in large circles. As he knew how to inspire the masses by his powerful preaching, so also he understood how to lead individual souls by his quiet conversation, to ease the mind, and to dominate the will. It was said in his time that the Church had had no preacher like him since Gregory the Great; and that this was no exaggeration is proved by Bernard's orations, which in copiousness of thought and beauty of exposition have few equals. Revered by his contemporaries as saint and prophet, his writings, which belong to the noblest productions of ecclesiastical literature, have secured him also a far-reaching influence upon posterity. Praised by Luther and Calvin, Bernard's name has retained a good repute among Protestants, though he represented many things which the Reformation had to oppose.

 

                                               2. Early Career. Abbot of Clairvaux.

 

Bernard was born at Fontaines (20 m. n.e. of Dijon), France, 1090; d. at Clairvaux (in the valley of the Aube, 120 m. s.e. of Paris) Aug. 20, 1153. He was the third son of the knight Tecelin and Aleth, a very pious lady, whose influence decided his future. While yet a boy he lost his mother, and, not being qualified for military service, he was destined for a learned career. He was educated at Chatillon and for a time seemed to be influenced by the world (cf. MPL, clxxviii, 1857; Vita, I, iii, 6). But this period can not have been of long duration; the memory of his mother and the impressions of a solitary journey called him back, and he resolved quickly and firmly to break entirely with the world. He induced some of his brothers, relatives, and friends to follow him, and, after spending half a year together at Chatillon, they entered the "new monastery" at Cîteaux (see CISTERCIANS). In 1115 a daughter monastery was founded at Clairvaux and Bernard became abbot. He gave all his energies to the foundation of the monastery, and spent himself in ascetic practises, which the famous William of Champeaux, then  bishop of Chalons, checked from time to time (Vita, I, vii, 31-32). Bernard soon became the spiritual adviser not only of his monks but of many who sought his advice and always left

Clairvaux impressed by the spirit of solemnity and peace which seemed to be spread over the place (Vita, I, vii, 33-34). His sermons also began to exercise a powerful influence, which wasincreased by his reputation as prophet and worker of miracles (Vita, I, x, 46). According to the constitution which the new order adopted, Clairvaux became the mother monastery of one oft he five principal divisions into which the Cistercian community was organized, and Bernard soon became the most influential and famous personality of the entire order. As early as the pontificate of Honorius II (1124-1130) he was one of the most prominent men of the Church in France; he enjoyed the favor of the papal chancellor Haimeric (Epist., xv), communicated with papal legates (Epist., xvi-xix, xxi), and was consulted on important ecclesiastical matters. At the Synod of Troyes (1128), to which he was called by Cardinal Matthew of Albano, he spoke in favor of the Templars, secured their recognition, and is said to have outlined the first rule of the order (M. Bouquet, Historiens des Gaules et de la France, xiv, Paris, 1806, 232).In the controversy which originated in the same year with King Louis VI, who was not antagonistic to the Church but jealously guarded his own rights, Bernard and his friars defended the bishop before the king (Epist., xiv), afterward also before the pope (Epist., xlvi, cf. xlvii), though at first unsuccessfully.

 

                                         3. Activity for Innocent II and against Anacletus II.

 

With the schism of 1130 Bernard enters into the first rank of the influential men of his time by espousing from the very beginning the cause of Innocent II against Anacletus II. This partizanship of Bernard and others was no doubt induced by the fear that Anacletus would allow himself to be influenced by family interests. On this account they overlooked the illegal procedure in the election of Innocent, regarding it as a mere violation of formalities, defending it with reasons of doubtful value, and emphasizing the personal worth of that pope. At the conference which the king held at Étampes with spiritual and secular grandees concerning the affair, Bernard seems to have taken the part of reporter. He also worked for the pope by personal negotiations and by writing (Epist., cxxiv, cxxv). When Innocent was unable to maintain his ground at Rome and went to France, Bernard was usually at his side. Later, probably in the beginning of 1132, he was in Aquitaine, endeavoring to counteract the influence of Gerhard of Angoulême upon Count William of Poitou, who sided with Anacletus (Vita, II, vi, 36).

His success here was only temporary (Epist., cxxvii, cxxviii), and not until 1135 did Bernard succeed, by resorting to stratagem, in changing the mind of the count (Vita, II, vi, 37-38). When in 1133 Lothair undertook his first campaign against Rome, Bernard accompanied the pope from his temporary residence in Pisa to Rome, and prevented the reopening of the proceedings concerning the rights of the opposing popes (Epist., cxxvi, 8 sqq.). He had previously visited Genoa, animated the people by his addresses, and inclined them to an agreement with the Pisans, as the pope needed the support of both cities (cf. Epist., cxxix, cxxx).

 

Bernard who in the spring of 1135 induced Frederick of Staufen to submit to the emperor (Vita, IV, iii, 14; Otto of Freising, Chron., vii, 19). He then went to Italy,  where in the beginning of June the Council of Pisa was held; according to the Vita (II, ii, 8), everybody surrounded him here, so that it looked as if he were not in parte sollicitudinis, but in plenitudine potestatis. Nevertheless, resolutions were passed at that time regarding appeals to the papal see, which could hardly have been to the liking of Bernard. After the council he succeeded in inducing Milan and other cities of Upper Italy to submit to the pope and emperor (Epist., cxxix-cxxxiii, cxxxvii, cxl). In Milan they, attempted to elevate him almost with force to the see of St. Ambrose (Vita, II, ii-v). During the last campaign of Lothair against Rome, Bernard went to Italy for the third time, in 1137; he worked there successfully against Anacletus, and after the Pentecost of 1138 he finally brought about the submission of his successor to Innocent and thus ended the schism (Epist., cccxvii). After this he left Rome. How great Bernard's influence in Rome was at this time may be seen from his successful opposition to Abelard (q.v.).

 

The ecclesiastico-political affairs of France soon made a new claim upon Bernard's attention. The young king, Louis VII, by making reckless use of his royal prerogatives, caused friction, as when he refused to invest Peter of Lachâtre, whom the chapter of Bourges had elected archbishop. The pope consecrated him, nevertheless, and thus provoked a conflict which was enhanced by the partizanship of Count Theobald of Champagne. After a while Bernard was asked to mediate; he faithfully performed this difficult task and enjoyed the confidence of the king to the end of his life (cf. Epist., ccciv), whereas his relations to the pope appear to have been troubled toward the end (Epist., ccxviii; ccxxxi, 3).

 

                                                    4. The Second Crusade.

 

A very unexpected event was the election of Bernard, abbot of Aquæ Silviæ near Rome, formerly a monk in Clairvaux, as Pope Eugenius III (1145-53). Bernard writes a little later (Epist., ccxxxix) that all who had a cause now came to him; they said that he, not Eugenius, was pope. And it is true that he exercised a remarkable influence in Rome especially at first, but Eugenius did not always follow his counsels and views; he had to consider the cardinals who were envious of Bernard. About this time Bernard, at the request of Cardinal Alberic of Ostia, undertook a journey to Languedoc, where heresy had advanced greatly and Henry of Lausanne (q.v.) had a large following. Bernard's presence there, especially at Toulouse, was not without effect, but to win permanent success continual preaching was required. A more important commission was given to him in the following year by the pope himself, to preach the crusade. At Vezelay, where the king and queen of France took the cross, Mar. 21, 1146, Bernard's address was most effective. He then traversed the north of France and Flanders, and the officious doings of the monk Radulf induced him to go into the regions of the Rhine; he succeeded in checking the persecutions of the Jews at Mainz, which Radulf had occasioned.

His journey along the Rhine was accompanied by numerous cures, of which the Vita (vi) contains notices in the form of a diary. But he regarded it as the wonder of wonders that he succeeded on Christmas day, 1146, in influencing King Conrad in favor of the crusade, in the face of all political considerations. During the crusade Eugenius sought a refuge in France.

Bernard accompanied him, and was present at the great council in Reims, 1148; in the debates against Gilbert of Poitiers (see GILBERT DE LA PORRÉE) following the council, Bernard appeared as his main opponent; but the jealousy of the cardinals brought it about that Gilbert escaped unhurt (Vita, III, v, 15; Otto of Freising, De gestis Frid., i, 55-57; Hist. pont., viii, MGH, Scrip., xx, 522 sqq.). About this time the first unfavorable news of the crusade became known, and tidings of its complete failure followed. No one felt the blow more keenly than Bernard, who with prophetical authority to speak had predicted a favorable issue (De consid., ii, 1). In the last years of his life he had to experience many things which caused him sadness. Men with whom he had had a lifelong connection died; his relations with Eugenius III were sometimes troubled (Epist., cccvi); the frailty and the pains of his body increased.

But his mental vitality remained active; his last work, De consideratione, betrays freshness and unimpaired force of mind.

 

                                 II. Ecclesiastical and Theological Significance:

 

                                                         1. Asceticism.

 

Bernard's entire life was dominated by the resolution he made while a youth. To work out the salvation of his soul, and--which meant the same thing to him--to dedicate himself to the service of God, was thenceforth the sum of his life. To serve God demanded above all a struggle against nature, and in this struggle Bernard was in earnest. Sensual temptations he seems to have overcome early and completely (Vita, I, iii, 6) and an almost virginal purity distinguished him. To suppress sensuality in the wider sense of the word, he underwent the hardest castigations, but their excess, which undermined his health, he afterward checked in others (cf. Vita, I, xii, 60). He always remained devoted to a very strict asceticism (Epist., cccxlv; Cant., xxx, 10-12; Vita, I, xii, 60), but castigation was to him only a means of godliness not godliness itself, which demands of man still other things. The new life comes only from the grace of God, but it requires the most serious work of one's own nature. How much importance Bernard attached to this work, whose preliminary condition is a quiet collection of the mind, may be learned from the admonitions which he gives on that point to Eugenius. That he prefers the contemplative life to the active is nothing peculiar in him; and he doubtless had the desire to devote himself entirely to it. He may have believed that only duty and love impelled him to act. And yet, as he was eminently fitted for action, such work was probably also is harmony with his inclinations. From his own experience he received the strength to work, the thorough education of the personality, by which he exercised an almost ascinating power over others; on the other hand, his practical activity excited in him a stronger desire for contemplation and made it the more fruitful for him (De diversis, sermo iii, 3-5).

 

                                                      2. Study of the Bible.

 

   Of Bernard's quiet hours, in spite of the many pressing claims on him, one part was devoted to study, and his favorite study was the Holy Scripture. His knowledge of the Bible was remarkable; not only does he often quote Bible-passages, but all his orations are impregnated with Biblical references, allusions, and phrases, to pay regard to which is often essential for the correct understanding. It is true that his exegesis did not go beyond the average of his time, yet he allows the great fundamental thoughts and vital forms of the Holy Scripture to influence him the more. As he was nourished by them he also knew in a masterly manner how to bring them near to others. All qualities of the great preacher were united in him; besides being vitally seized by the grace of God, he had a hearty desire to serve his hearers, an impressive knowledge of the human heart, and a wealth of thoughts and fascinating exposition, which was indeed not free from mannerism. What is missing in his sermons is reference to the variety of the relations of life, and this is intelligible, because he had monks as his hearers.

 

                                                      3. Grace and Works.

 

   Religious geniality is the most distinguishing quality in the whole disposition of Bernard; his other rich gifts serve it, to it is due the impression which he made upon his time, and the importance which he obtained in the history of the Church. At the same time, Bernard is also a child of his time; above all, of the Church of his time, in which his religious life could develop without conflict. In this respect Bernard is related not to Luther, but to Augustine, and between Augustine and him stand Leo I, Nicholas I, and Gregory VII. Thus elements are found in Bernard which point to future developments combined with those which belong only to the ecclesiastical consciousness of the time. Bernard is most deeply permeated by the feeling of owing everything to the grace of God, that on the working of God rests the beginning and end of the state of salvation, and that we are to trust only in his grace, not in our works and merits. From the forgiveness of sin proceeds the Christian life (De diversis, sermo iii, 1). Faith is the means by which we lay hold of the grace of God (In vigil. nativ. domini, v, 5; In Cant., sermo xxii, 8; cf. also In Cant., lxvii, 10; In vigil. nat. dom., sermo ii, 4). Man can never be sure of salvation by resting his hope upon his own righteousness, for all our works always remain imperfect. On the other hand, Bernard does not deny that man can and should have merits, but they are only possible through the preceding and continually working grace of God; they are gifts of God, which again have rewards in the world to come as their fruit, but without becoming a cause of self-glory. Before God there is no legal claim, but an acquisition for eternity through the work of the pious, made possible and directed by God's grace.

   A characteristic contrast to these thoughts, which lead man again and again to humility, is the excessive glorification which Bernard devotes to the saints, above all to the Virgin Mary. Though he opposes (Epist., clxxiv) the new doctrine of her immaculate conception, he nevertheless uses expressions concerning the mother of Jesus which go very far (e.g., In nativ. Beat. Virg. Mariœ, v, 7; In assumpt. Beat. Virg. Mariœ, i, 4; In adv. dom., ii, 5). The same concerns also other saints (e.g., In vigil. Petri et Pauli, ¡± ¡± 2, 4, and at the end of the second oration In transitu B. Malachiœ). But the importance of such expression which a Protestant consciousness will never be able to adopt is restricted by this, that they are only used on special occasions, such as a feast of the saints. Otherwise the saints stand in the background, Christ alone stands in the foreground.

 

                                                    4. Bernard's Mysticism.

 

   Bernard has always been regarded as a main representative of Christian mysticism, and his writings have been much used by later mystics and were the main source for the Imitatio Christi. But just here becomes evident how different the phenomena are which are comprised under the name of mysticism. With the Neoplatonic-Dionysian mysticism that of Bernard has some points of contact, but it differs from it as to its religious character. It is known how depreciatingly Luther speaks of the Areopagite, but this animadversion does not concern Bernard's mysticism. It is not man who soars to divine height, but the grace of God in Christ, which first pardons the sin and then lifts up to itself the pardoned sinner. On this account the whole mysticism of Bernard centers about Christ, the humbled and exalted one; it likes to dwell upon his earthly appearance, his suffering and death, for it is the "work of redemption" which more than anything else is fit to excite love in the redeemed (In Cant., xx, 2; De grad. hum. in its first chapters). At the same time Bernard perceives that a sensual devotion, as it were, to the suffering of Christ is not the goal with which one must be satisfied; the thing necessary is rather to be filled with the spirit of Christ and through it to become like Christ. By Christ's work of redemption the Church has become his bride. To it, i.e., to the totality of the redeemed, belongs this name first and in a proper sense, to the individual soul only in so far as it is a part of the Church (In Cant., xxvii, 6, 7; lxvii; lxviii, 4, 11). What it receives from him is in the first place mercy and forgiveness of sins, then grace and blessing. The climax of grace is the perfect union, but in the earthly life this is experienced by the pious at the utmost in single moments (De consid., V, ii, 1; De grad. hum., viii; De dilig. Deo, x). When Bernard speaks of becoming one with Christ and with God, his thought is clothed with Biblical expressions; but that Bernard in point of fact does not intend to go beyond the meaning of these words can be seen by reading the explanations (In Cant., lxxi, 7 sqq.), where the union with God, to which the pious soul attains, is most keenly distinguished from a consubstantiality, as it exists between Father and Son in the Trinity. Bernard is entirely free from pantheistic thoughts, and that mysticism does not bring him in opposition to the Church his entire ecclesiastical attitude shows.

 

                                                    5. Doctrine of the Church.

 

            The Church as organized, with its hierarchy, at whose head stands the Roman bishop, as successor of Peter and vicar of Christ, is to Bernard the exhibition of the kingdom of Christ on earth. On this account it must enjoy perfect autonomy, having a right of supervision over everything in Christendom, even over princes and states. It even has a right over the worldly sword (De consid., IV, 7; cf. Epist., cclvi, 1). Nevertheless Bernard is no blind adherent of the views of Gregory VII. In the first place Bernard demands a perfect separation between secular and spiritual affairs; the secular as such is to be left to the secular government, and only for spiritual purposes and in a spiritual sense is the pope to have supervision (De consid., i, 6). But Bernard is also an opponent of the absolute papal power in the Church. As certainly as he recognizes the papal authority as the highest in the Church, so decidedly does he reprove the effort to make it the only one. Even the middle and lower ranks of the Church have their right before God. To withdraw the bishops from the authority of the archbishops, the abbots from the authority of the bishops, that all may become dependent on the curia, means to make the Church a monster (De consid., iii, 8).

 

                                                        6. Monasticism.

 

            Notwithstanding Bernard's many-sided activity, he was and remained above all things a monk, and would not exchange his monachism either for the chair of  St. Ambrose or for the primacy of Reims. Monachism is to him the ideal of Christianity. He acknowledges indeed that true Christianity is also possible while living in the world (Apol., iii, 6; In Cant., lxvi, 3; De div., ix, 3), but such a life compared with monastic life seems to him a lower, and in spiritual relation, a dangerous position (De div., xxvii, 2), a partition of the soul between the earthly and heavenly. Monasticism itself he regards in an ideal manner; it appeals to him also not so much from the point of view of merit as from that of the safest way to salvation. To this the whole order of the monastery is subservient, aside from this it is of no value. Besides, Bernard had relations with the different monasteries and monkish associations and was interested in them (cf. with regard to the Premonstratensians Epist., viii, 4; lvi; and especially ccliii; concerning other regular canons, Epist., iii; xxxix, 1; lxxxvii-xc; and elsewhere). In his many relations with the Cluniacensians, frictions were not wanting (cf. Epist., i; clxiv; cclxxxiii; etc., and especially the Apologia ad Guilelmum), for the rise of the  new order took place partly at the expense of the old. Nevertheless Bernard was highly esteemed by the Cluniacensians, and close friendship associated him with their head, the noble Peter the Venerable. That it was not interrupted is mainly due to Peter, who knew how to bear occasional lack of consideration by his great friend (cf. Epist., clxvi, 1; clxviii, 1) without resentment (Epist., ccxxix, 5). There existed a mutual true affection and admiration; the letters which they exchanged with each other are an honorable monument for both men, and without regard to differences of times and confessions modern readers can appreciate them.

 

                                                     III. Writings:

 

   The works of Bernard include a large collection of letters; a number of treatises, dogmatic and polemic, ascetic and mystical, on monasticism, and on church government; a biography of St. Malachy, the Irish archbishop; and sermons. Hymns are also ascribed to him (see below). The most important are the letters, which constitute one of the most valuable collections of  church history; and the sermons, of which those on the Song of Songs furnish the chief source of knowledge of Bernard's mysticism. The first and fifth books of his De consideratione are also of a mystic character, whereas ii, iii, and iv contain a critique of church affairs of his time from Bernard's point of view and lay down a programme for papal conduct which acontemporary pope would have found it difficult to follow.

 

S. M. DEUTSCH.

                                                       IV. Hymns:

 

   Five hymns are ascribed to Bernard, viz.:

 

(1)   the so-called Rhythmus de contemptu mundi, "O miranda vanitas! O divitiarum!"

(2)    the Rhythmica oratio ad unum quodlibet membrorum Christi patientis, a series of salves addressed to the feet, knees, etc. of the Crucified;

(3)   the Oratio devota ad Dominum Jesum et Beatam Mariam matrem ejus, "Summe summi tu patris unice";

(4)    a Christmas hymn, "Lœtabundus exultet fidelis chorus";

(5)   the Jubilus rhythmicus de nomine Jesu, "Jesu dulcis memoria," on the blessedness of the soul united with Christ.

 

All these poetical productions, besides being beautiful in form and composition, are distinguished by a tender and living feeling and a mystic fervor and holy love. If they are really Bernard's, he deserves the title of Doctor mellifluus devotusque. An addition to the Salve regina, closing with the words, "O clemens, O pia, O dulcis virgo, Maria," is also ascribed to him. Mabillon denies Bernard's authorship of all these hymns in spite of the ancient and prevalent tradition. But one is inclined to accept the tradition, especially since the scholastic Berengar, in his Apologia Abelardi contra S. Bernardum, states that Bernard was devoted to poetry from his youth. German adaptations of the last section of (2) by Paul Gerhard (1659),"O Haupt voll Blut and Wunden," and of (5), "O Jesu süss, wer dein gedenkt", are in common use; there are several English versions--as by J. W. Alexander, "O Sacred Head, now wounded" and "Jesus, how sweet thy memory is," and Ray Palmer's "Jesus, the very thought of thee."

 

S. M. HEROLD.

 

Bibliography: A very accurate list of the literature (2,761 entries, arranged chronologically) is given by L. Janauschek, in Bibliographia Bernardina, Vienna, 1891. The best edition of the works of Bernard is by J. M. Horstius, revised and enlarged by J. Mabillon, Paris, 1687, corrected and enlarged 1690 and 1719, reprinted in MPL, clxxxii-clxxxv, of which the last vol. contains the old Vitœ, and some valuable additions not found in Mabillon. A new critical ed. of the Sermones de tempore, de sanctis, and de diversis has been published by B. Gsell and L. Janauschek in vol. i of Xenia Bernardina, Vienna, 1891. An Eng. transl. by S. J. Eales of the Life and Works of St. Bernard Clairvaux from the ed. of Mabillon, 4 vols. only completed, London, 1888-97, contains the preface of Mabillon to his second edition of the Opera, a Bernardine Chronology, List and Order of the Letters, and transl. of the Letters, Sermons, and Cantica Canticorum. Of the early biographies the most important is the Vita prima, MPL, clxxxv, 225-466, the first book of which, by William of Thierry, was written during Bernard's lifetime, the second, by Ernald, abbot of Bona Vallis, the other books by Gaufrid of Clairvaux, cf. G. Hüffer Vorstudien zu . . . Bernhard von Clairvaux, Münster, 1886. Of later literature note J. Pinio, Commentarius de S. Bernardo, in ASB, Aug., iv, 101 sqq., and in MPL, clxxxv, 643-944 (still very useful); and Mabillon's Prœfatio (translated in Eales, ut sup.). Of modern lives the following deserve mention: A. Neander, Der heilige Bernhard und sein Zeitalter, Berlin, 1813, ed. S. M. Deutsch, in Bibliothek theologischer Klassiker, vols. xxii-xxiii, Gotha, 1889, Eng. transl. of 1st ed., Life of St. Bernard, London, 1843; J. C. Morrison, Life and Times of St. Bernard, London, 1877; F. Böhringer, Bernhard von Cairvaux, No. xiii, in Die Kirche Christi und ihre Zeugen,  Leipsic, 1878; S. J. Eales, St. Bernard, in The Fathers for English Readers, London, 1890 (Roman Catholic); A. C. Benson and H. F. W. Tatham, in Men of Might, ib. 1892; R. S. Storrs, Bernard of Clairvaux, the Times, the Man, and his Work, New York, 1892; W. J. Sparrow-Simpson, Lectures on St. Bernard of Clairvaux, London, 1895 (Roman Catholic); E. Vacandard, Vie de Saint Bernard, Paris, 1895 (displays knowledge of the subject and good taste and judgment so far as the ultramontane point of view of the author allows). Consult further: W. von Giesebrecht, Geschichte der deutschen Kaiserzeit, vol. iv, Brunswick, 874; W. Bernhardi, Jahrbücher des deutschen Reichs unter Lothair von Supplinberg, Leipsic, 1879, and unter Konrad III, ib. 1883; B. Kugler, Analekten zur Geschichte des sweiten Kreuzzuges, Tübingen, 1879; idem, Neue Analekten, ib. 1883; K. F. Neumann, Bernhard von Clairvaux und die Anfänge des sweiten Kreuzzuges, Heildelberg, 1882; G. Hüffer, Die Anfänge des zweiten Kreuzzuges, in Historiesches Jarhbuch der Görres-Gesellschaft, vol. viii, Bonn, 1887. On Bernard's relation to Abelard: S. M. Deutsch, Die Synode zu Sens 1114 und die Verurteilung Abälards, Berlin, 1880; E. Vacandard, Abélard, sa lutte avec S. Bernard, Paris, 1881. On Bernard as a preacher: A. Brömel, Homiletische Charakterbilder, pp. 53-96, Berlin, 1869; E. Vacandard, S. Bernard, orateur, Rouen, 1877; R. Rothe, Geschichte der Predigt, pp. 216 sqq. Bremen, 1881; A. Nebe, Zur Geschichte der Predigt, i, 250 sqq., Wiesbaden 1879; E. C. Dargan, Hist. Of Preaching, pp. 208 sqq., New York, 1905. On Bernard's teaching: A. Ritschl, Die Christliche Lehre von der Rechfertigung und Versöhnung, i, ¡±17, Bonn, 1870; idem, Lesefrüchte aus dem heligen Bernhard, in TSK, 1879, pp. 317-335; H. Reuter, in ZKG, vol. i, 1876; G. Thomasius, Dogmengeschichte, ed. Seeberg, ii, 129 sqq., Leipsic, 1889; A. Harnack, Dogmengeschichte, vol. iii, Freiburg, 1898. On Bernard as a hymnist: R. C. Trench, Sacred Latin Poetry, pp. 138-141, London, 1864; S. W. Duffield, English Hymns, pp. 299, 300, 317 430, 600, New York, 1886; idem, Latin Hymn Writers, passim, especially pp. 186-193, ib. 1889; Julian, Hymnology, pp. 136-137; P. Schaff, Literature and Poetry, ib. 1890. Discussions of St. Bernard from various points of view will be found in the Church Histories dealing with his period and also in works on the History of Philosophy.

 

   For Bernard's hymns: H. A. Daniel, Thesaurus hymnologicus, 5 vols., Halle, 1841-56; C. J. Simrock, Lauda Sion, Cologne, 1850; J. F. H. Schlosser, Die Kirche in ihren Liedern durch alle Jahrhunderte, Freiburg, 1863; P. Schaff, Christ in Song, New York, 1888; J. Pauly, Hymni breviarii Romani, 3 vols., Aachen, 1868-70; F. A. March, Latin Hymns with English Notes, pp 114-125, 276-279, New York, 1874; W. A. Merrill, Latin Hymns Selected and Annotted, Boston, 1904.


Works by St. Bernard of Clairvaux

 

ON LOVING GOD

by St. Bernard of Clairvaux

 

  

DEDICATION

 

  

   To the illustrious Lord Haimeric, Cardinal Deacon of the Roman Church,

   and Chancellor: Bernard, called Abbot of Clairvaux, wisheth long life

   in the Lord and death in the Lord.

  

   Hitherto you have been wont to seek prayers from me, not the solving

   of problems; although I count myself sufficient for neither. My

   profession shows that, if not my conversation; and to speak truth, I

   lack the diligence and the ability that are most essential. Yet I am

   glad that you turn again for spiritual counsel, instead of busying

   yourself about carnal matters: I only wish you had gone to some one

   better equipped than I am. Still, learned and simple give the same

   excuse and one can hardly tell whether it comes from modesty or from

   ignorance, unless obedience to the task assigned shall reveal. So,

   take from my poverty what I can give you, lest I should seem to play

   the philosopher, by reason of my silence. Only, I do not promise to

   answer other questions you may raise. This one, as to loving God, I

   will deal with as He shall teach me; for it is sweetest, it can be

   handled most safely, and it will be most profitable. Keep the others

   for wiser men.

  

  

Chapter I. Why we should love God and the measure of that love

 

   You want me to tell you why God is to be loved and how much. I answer,

   the reason for loving God is God Himself; and the measure of love due

   to Him is immeasurable love. Is this plain? Doubtless, to a thoughtful

   man; but I am debtor to the unwise also. A word to the wise is

   sufficient; but I must consider simple folk too. Therefore I set

   myself joyfully to explain more in detail what is meant above.

  

   We are to love God for Himself, because of a twofold reason; nothing

   is more reasonable, nothing more profitable. When one asks, Why should

   I love God? he may mean, What is lovely in God? or What shall I gain

   by loving God? In either case, the same sufficient cause of love

   exists, namely, God Himself.

  

   And first, of His title to our love. Could any title be greater than

   this, that He gave Himself for us unworthy wretches? And being God,

   what better gift could He offer than Himself? Hence, if one seeks for

   God's claim upon our love here is the chiefest: Because He first loved

   us (I John 4.19).

  

   Ought He not to be loved in return, when we think who loved, whom He

   loved, and how much He loved? For who is He that loved? The same of

   whom every spirit testifies: 'Thou art my God: my goods are nothing

   unto Thee' (Ps. 16.2, Vulg.). And is not His love that wonderful

   charity which 'seeketh not her own'? (I Cor.13.5). But for whom was

   such unutterable love made manifest? The apostle tells us: 'When we

   were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son' (Rom.

   5.10). So it was God who loved us, loved us freely, and loved us while

   yet we were enemies. And how great was this love of His? St. John

   answers: 'God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son,

   that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have

   everlasting life' (John 3.16). St. Paul adds: 'He spared not His own

   Son, but delivered Him up for us all' (Rom. 8.32); and the son says of

   Himself, 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his

   life for his friends' (John 15.13).

  

   This is the claim which God the holy, the supreme, the omnipotent, has

   upon men, defiled and base and weak. Some one may urge that this is

   true of mankind, but not of angels. True, since for angels it was not

   needful. He who succored men in their time of need, preserved angels

   from such need; and even as His love for sinful men wrought wondrously

   in them so that they should not remain sinful, so that same love which

   in equal measure He poured out upon angels kept them altogether free

   from sin.

  

  

Chapter II. On loving God. How much god deserves love from man in

recognition of His gifts, both material and spiritual: and how these gifts

should be cherished without neglect of the Giver

 

   Those who admit the truth of what I have said know, I am sure, why we

   are bound to love God. But if unbelievers will not grant it, their

   ingratitude is at once confounded by His innumerable benefits,

   lavished on our race, and plainly discerned by the senses. Who is it

   that gives food to all flesh, light to every eye, air to all that

   breathe? It would be foolish to begin a catalogue, since I have just

   called them innumerable: but I name, as notable instances, food,

   sunlight and air; not because they are God's best gifts, but because

   they are essential to bodily life. Man must seek in his own higher

   nature for the highest gifts; and these are dignity, wisdom and

   virtue. By dignity I mean free-will, whereby he not only excels all

   other earthly creatures, but has dominion over them. Wisdom is the

   power whereby he recognizes this dignity, and perceives also that it

   is no accomplishment of his own. And virtue impels man to seek eagerly

   for Him who is man's Source, and to lay fast hold on Him when He has

   been found.

  

   Now, these three best gifts have each a twofold character. Dignity

   appears not only as the prerogative of human nature, but also as the

   cause of that fear and dread of man which is upon every beast of the

   earth. Wisdom perceives this distinction, but owns that though in us,

   it is, like all good qualities, not of us. And lastly, virtue moves us

   to search eagerly for an Author, and, when we have found Him, teaches

   us to cling to Him yet more eagerly. Consider too that dignity without

   wisdom is nothing worth; and wisdom is harmful without virtue, as this

   argument following shows: There is no glory in having a gift without

   knowing it. But to know only that you have it, without knowing that it

   is not of yourself that you have it, means self-glorying, but no true

   glory in God. And so the apostle says to men in such cases, 'What hast

   thou that thou didst not receive? Now, if thou didst receive it, why

   dost thou glory as if thou hadst not received it? (I Cor. 4.7). He

   asks, Why dost thou glory? but goes on, as if thou hadst not received

   it, showing that the guilt is not in glorying over a possession, but

   in glorying as though it had not been received. And rightly such

   glorying is called vain-glory, since it has not the solid foundation

   of truth. The apostle shows how to discern the true glory from the

   false, when he says, He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord, that

   is, in the Truth, since our Lord is Truth (I Cor. 1.31; John 14.6).

  

   We must know, then, what we are, and that it is not of ourselves that

   we are what we are. Unless we know this thoroughly, either we shall

   not glory at all, or our glorying will be vain. Finally, it is

   written, 'If thou know not, go thy way forth by the footsteps of the

   flock' (Cant. 1.8). And this is right. For man, being in honor, if he

   know not his own honor, may fitly be compared, because of such

   ignorance, to the beasts that perish. Not knowing himself as the

   creature that is distinguished from the irrational brutes by the

   possession of reason, he commences to be confounded with them because,

   ignorant of his own true glory which is within, he is led captive by

   his curiosity, and concerns himself with external, sensual things. So

   he is made to resemble the lower orders by not knowing that he has

   been more highly endowed than they.

  

   We must be on our guard against this ignorance. We must not rank

   ourselves too low; and with still greater care we must see that we do

   not think of ourselves more highly than we ought to think, as happens

   when we foolishly impute to ourselves whatever good may be in us. But

   far more than either of these kinds of ignorance, we must hate and

   shun that presumption which would lead us to glory in goods not our

   own, knowing that they are not of ourselves but of God, and yet not

   fearing to rob God of the honor due unto Him. For mere ignorance, as

   in the first instance, does not glory at all; and mere wisdom, as in

   the second, while it has a kind of glory, yet does not glory in the

   Lord. In the third evil case, however, man sins not in ignorance but

   deliberately, usurping the glory which belongs to God. And this

   arrogance is a more grievous and deadly fault than the ignorance of

   the second, since it contemns God, while the other knows Him not.

   Ignorance is brutal, arrogance is devilish. Pride only, the chief of

   all iniquities, can make us treat gifts as if they were rightful

   attributes of our nature, and, while receiving benefits, rob our

   Benefactor of His due glory.

  

   Wherefore to dignity and wisdom we must add virtue, the proper fruit

   of them both. Virtue seeks and finds Him who is the Author and Giver

   of all good, and who must be in all things glorified; otherwise, one

   who knows what is right yet fails to perform it, will be beaten with

   many stripes (Luke 12.47). Why? you may ask. Because he has failed to

   put his knowledge to good effect, but rather has imagined mischief

   upon his bed (Ps. 36.4); like a wicked servant, he has turned aside to

   seize the glory which, his own knowledge assured him, belonged only to

   his good Lord and Master. It is plain, therefore, that dignity without

   wisdom is useless and that wisdom without virtue is accursed. But when

   one possesses virtue, then wisdom and dignity are not dangerous but

   blessed. Such a man calls on God and lauds Him, confessing from a full

   heart, 'Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto Thy name give

   glory' (Ps. 115.1). Which is to say, 'O Lord, we claim no knowledge,

   no distinction for ourselves; all is Thine, since from Thee all things

   do come.'

  

   But we have digressed too far in the wish to prove that even those who

   know not Christ are sufficiently admonished by the natural law, and by

   their own endowments of soul and body, to love God for God's own sake.

   To sum up: what infidel does not know that he has received light, air,

   food--all things necessary for his own body's life--from Him alone who

   giveth food to all flesh (Ps. 136.25), who maketh His sun to rise on

   the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the

   unjust (Matt. 5.45). Who is so impious as to attribute the peculiar

   eminence of humanity to any other except to Him who saith, in Genesis,

   'Let us make man in Our image, after Our likeness'? (Gen. 1.26). Who

   else could be the Bestower of wisdom, but He that teacheth man

   knowledge? (Ps. 94.10). Who else could bestow virtue except the Lord

   of virtue? Therefore even the infidel who knows not Christ but does at

   least know himself, is bound to love God for God's own sake. He is

   unpardonable if he does not love the Lord his God with all his heart,

   and with all his soul, and with all his mind; for his own innate

   justice and common sense cry out from within that he is bound wholly

   to love God, from whom he has received all things. But it is hard, nay

   rather, impossible, for a man by his own strength or in the power of

   free-will to render all things to God from whom they came, without

   rather turning them aside, each to his own account, even as it is

   written, 'For all seek their own' (Phil. 2.21); and again, 'The

   imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth' (Gen. 8.21).

  

  

Chapter III. What greater incentives Christians have, more than the heathen,

to love God

 

   The faithful know how much need they have of Jesus and Him crucified;

   but though they wonder and rejoice at the ineffable love made manifest

   in Him, they are not daunted at having no more than their own poor

   souls to give in return for such great and condescending charity. They

   love all the more, because they know themselves to be loved so

   exceedingly; but to whom little is given the same loveth little (Luke

   7.47). Neither Jew nor pagan feels the pangs of love as doth the

   Church, which saith, 'Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples;

   for I am sick of love' (Cant. 2.5). She beholds King Solomon, with the

   crown wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals;

   she sees the Sole-begotten of the Father bearing the heavy burden of

   His Cross; she sees the Lord of all power and might bruised and spat

   upon, the Author of life and glory transfixed with nails, smitten by

   the lance, overwhelmed with mockery, and at last laying down His

   precious life for His friends. Contemplating this the sword of love

   pierces through her own soul also and she cried aloud, 'Stay me with

   flagons, comfort me with apples; for I am sick of love.' The fruits

   which the Spouse gathers from the Tree of Life in the midst of the

   garden of her Beloved, are pomegranates (Cant. 4.13), borrowing their

   taste from the Bread of heaven, and their color from the Blood of

   Christ. She sees death dying and its author overthrown: she beholds

   captivity led captive from hell to earth, from earth to heaven, so

   'that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven

   and things in earth and things under the earth' (Phil. 2.10). The

   earth under the ancient curse brought forth thorns and thistles; but

   now the Church beholds it laughing with flowers and restored by the

   grace of a new benediction. Mindful of the verse, 'My heart danceth

   for joy, and in my song will I praise Him', she refreshes herself with

   the fruits of His Passion which she gathers from the Tree of the

   Cross, and with the flowers of His Resurrection whose fragrance

   invites the frequent visits of her Spouse.

  

   Then it is that He exclaims, 'Behold thou art fair, My beloved, yea

   pleasant: also our bed is green' (Cant. 1. 16). She shows her desire

   for His coming and whence she hopes to obtain it; not because of her

   own merits but because of the flowers of that field which God hath

   blessed. Christ who willed to be conceived and brought up in Nazareth,

   that is, the town of branches, delights in such blossoms. Pleased by

   such heavenly fragrance the bridegroom rejoices to revisit the heart's

   chamber when He finds it adorned with fruits and decked with

   flowers--that is, meditating on the mystery of His Passion or on the

   glory of His Resurrection.

  

   The tokens of the Passion we recognize as the fruitage of the ages of

   the past, appearing in the fullness of time during the reign of sin

   and death (Gal. 4.4). But it is the glory of the Resurrection, in the

   new springtime of regenerating grace, that the fresh flowers of the

   later age come forth, whose fruit shall be given without measure at

   the general resurrection, when time shall be no more. And so it is

   written, 'The winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers

   appear on the earth' (Cant. 2.11 f); signifying that summer has come

   back with Him who dissolves icy death into the spring of a new life

   and says, 'Behold, I make all things new' (Rev. 21.5). His Body sown

   in the grave has blossomed in the Resurrection (I Cor. 15.42); and in

   like manner our valleys and fields which were barren or frozen, as if

   dead, glow with reviving life and warmth.

  

   The Father of Christ who makes all things new, is well pleased with

   the freshness of those flowers and fruits, and the beauty of the field

   which breathes forth such heavenly fragrance; and He says in

   benediction, 'See, the smell of My Son is as the smell of a field

   which the Lord hath blessed' (Gen. 27.27). Blessed to overflowing,

   indeed, since of His fullness have all we received (John 1.16). But

   the Bride may come when she pleases and gather flowers and fruits

   therewith to adorn the inmost recesses of her conscience; that the

   Bridegroom when He cometh may find the chamber of her heart redolent

   with perfume.

  

   So it behoves us, if we would have Christ for a frequent guest, to

   fill our hearts with faithful meditations on the mercy He showed in

   dying for us, and on His mighty power in rising again from the dead.

   To this David testified when he sang, 'God spake once, and twice I

   have also heard the same; that power belongeth unto God; and that

   Thou, Lord, art merciful (Ps. 62.11f). And surely there is proof

   enough and to spare in that Christ died for our sins and rose again

   for our justification, and ascended into heaven that He might protect

   us from on high, and sent the Holy Spirit for our comfort. Hereafter

   He will come again for the consummation of our bliss. In His Death He

   displayed His mercy, in His Resurrection His power; both combine to

   manifest His glory.

  

   The Bride desires to be stayed with flagons and comforted with apples,

   because she knows how easily the warmth of love can languish and grow

   cold; but such helps are only until she has entered into the bride

   chamber. There she will receive His long-desired caresses even as she

   sighs, 'His left hand is under my head and His right hand doth embrace

   me' (Cant. 2.6). Then she will perceive how far the embrace of the

   right hand excels all sweetness, and that the left hand with which He

   at first caressed her cannot be compared to it. She will understand

   what she has heard: 'It is the spirit that quickeneth; the flesh

   profiteth nothing' (John 6.63). She will prove what she hath read: 'My

   memorial is sweeter than honey, and mine inheritance than the

   honey-comb' (Ecclus. 24.20). What is written elsewhere, 'The memorial

   of Thine abundant kindness shall be showed' (Ps. 145.7), refers

   doubtless to those of whom the Psalmist had said just before: 'One

   generation shall praise Thy works unto another and declare Thy power'

   (Ps. 145.4). Among us on the earth there is His memory; but in the

   Kingdom of heaven His very Presence. That Presence is the joy of those

   who have already attained to beatitude; the memory is the comfort of

   us who are still wayfarers, journeying towards the Fatherland.

  

  

Chapter IV. Of those who find comfort in there collection of God, or are

fittest for His love

 

   But it will be well to note what class of people takes comfort in the

   thought of God. Surely not that perverse and crooked generation to

   whom it was said, 'Woe unto you that are rich; for ye have received

   your consolation' (Luke 6.24). Rather, those who can say with truth,

   'My soul refuseth comfort' (Ps. 77.2). For it is meet that those who

   are not satisfied by the present should be sustained by the thought of

   the future, and that the contemplation of eternal happiness should

   solace those who scorn to drink from the river of transitory joys.

   That is the generation of them that seek the Lord, even of them that

   seek, not their own, but the face of the God of Jacob. To them that

   long for the presence of the living God, the thought of Him is

   sweetest itself: but there is no satiety, rather an ever-increasing

   appetite, even as the Scripture bears witness, 'they that eat me shall

   yet be hungry' (Ecclus. 24.21); and if the one an-hungred spake, 'When

   I awake up after Thy likeness, I shall be satisfied with it.' Yea,

   blessed even now are they which do hunger and thirst after

   righteousness, for they, and they only, shall be filled. Woe to you,

   wicked and perverse generation; woe to you, foolish and abandoned

   people, who hate Christ's memory, and dread His second Advent! Well

   may you fear, who will not now seek deliverance from the snare of the

   hunter; because 'they that will be rich fall into temptation and a

   snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts' (I Tim. 6.9). In that

   day we shall not escape the dreadful sentence of condemnation, 'Depart

   from Me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire' (Matt. 25.41). O dreadful

   sentence indeed, O hard saying! How much harder to bear than that

   other saying which we repeat daily in church, in memory of the

   Passion: 'Whoso eateth My flesh and drinketh My blood hath eternal

   life' (John 6.54). That signifies, whoso honors My death and after My

   example mortifies his members which are upon the earth (Col. 3.5)

   shall have eternal life, even as the apostle says, 'If we suffer, we

   shall also reign with Him' (II Tim. 2.12). And yet many even today

   recoil from these words and go away, saying by their action if not

   with their lips, 'This is a hard saying; who can hear it?' (John

   6.60). 'A generation that set not their heart aright, and whose spirit

   cleaveth not steadfastly unto God' (Ps. 78.8), but chooseth rather to

   trust in uncertain riches, it is disturbed at the very name of the

   Cross, and counts the memory of the Passion intolerable. How can such

   sustain the burden of that fearful sentence, 'Depart from Me, ye

   cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels'?

   'On whomsoever that stone shall fall it will grind him to powder'

   (Luke 20.18); but 'the generation of the faithful shall be blessed'

   (Ps. 112.2), since, like the apostle, they labor that whether present

   or absent they may be accepted of the Lord (II Cor. 5.9). At the last

   day they too shall hear the Judge pronounce their award, 'Come, ye

   blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the

   foundation of the world' (Matt. 25.34).

  

   In that day those who set not their hearts aright will feel, too late,

   how easy is Christ's yoke, to which they would not bend their necks

   and how light His burden, in comparison with the pains they must then

   endure. O wretched slaves of Mammon, you cannot glory in the Cross of

   our Lord Jesus Christ while you trust in treasures laid up on earth:

   you cannot taste and see how gracious the Lord is, while you are

   hungering for gold. If you have not rejoiced at the thought of His

   coming, that day will be indeed a day of wrath to you.

  

   But the believing soul longs and faints for God; she rests sweetly in

   the contemplation of Him. She glories in the reproach of the Cross,

   until the glory of His face shall be revealed. Like the Bride, the

   dove of Christ, that is covered with silver wings (Ps. 68.13), white

   with innocence and purity, she reposes in the thought of Thine

   abundant kindness, Lord Jesus; and above all she longs for that day

   when in the joyful splendor of Thy saints, gleaming with the radiance

   of the Beatific Vision, her feathers shall be like gold, resplendent

   with the joy of Thy countenance.

  

   Rightly then may she exult, 'His left hand is under my head and His

   right hand doth embrace me.' The left hand signifies the memory of

   that matchless love, which moved Him to lay down His life for His

   friends; and the right hand is the Beatific Vision which He hath

   promised to His own, and the delight they have in His presence. The

   Psalmist sings rapturously, 'At Thy right hand there is pleasure for

   evermore' (Ps. 16.11): so we are warranted in explaining the right

   hand as that divine and deifying joy of His presence.

  

   Rightly too is that wondrous and ever-memorable love symbolized as His

   left hand, upon which the Bride rests her head until iniquity be done

   away: for He sustains the purpose of her mind, lest it should be

   turned aside to earthly, carnal desires. For the flesh wars against

   the spirit: 'The corruptible body presseth down the soul, and the

   earthly tabernacle weigheth down the mind that museth upon many

   things' (Wisdom 9.15). What could result from the contemplation of

   compassion so marvelous and so undeserved, favor so free and so well

   attested, kindness so unexpected, clemency so unconquerable, grace so

   amazing except that the soul should withdraw from all sinful

   affections, reject all that is inconsistent with God's love, and yield

   herself wholly to heavenly things? No wonder is it that the Bride,

   moved by the perfume of these unctions, runs swiftly, all on fire with

   love, yet reckons herself as loving all too little in return for the

   Bridegroom's love. And rightly, since it is no great matter that a

   little dust should be all consumed with love of that Majesty which

   loved her first and which revealed itself as wholly bent on saving

   her. For 'God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son,

   that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting

   life' (John 3.16). This sets forth the Father's love. But 'He hath

   poured out His soul unto death,' was written of the Son (Isa. 53.12).

   And of the Holy Spirit it is said, 'The Comforter which is the Holy

   Ghost whom the Father will send in My name, He shall teach you all

   things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have

   said unto you' (John 14.26). It is plain, therefore, that God loves

   us, and loves us with all His heart; for the Holy Trinity altogether

   loves us, if we may venture so to speak of the infinite and

   incomprehensible Godhead who is essentially one.

  

  

Chapter V. Of the Christian's debt of love, how great it is

 

   From the contemplation of what has been said, we see plainly that God

   is to be loved, and that He has a just claim upon our love. But the

   infidel does not acknowledge the Son of God, and so he can know

   neither the Father nor the Holy Spirit; for he that honoureth not the

   Son, honoureth not the Father which sent Him, nor the Spirit whom He

   hath sent (John 5.23). He knows less of God than we; no wonder that he

   loves God less. This much he understands at least--that he owes all he

   is to his Creator. But how will it be with me? For I know that my God

   is not merely the bounteous Bestower of my life, the generous Provider

   for all my needs, the pitiful Consoler of all my sorrows, the wise

   Guide of my course: but that He is far more than all that. He saves me

   with an abundant deliverance: He is my eternal Preserver, the portion

   of my inheritance, my glory. Even so it is written, 'With Him is

   plenteous redemption' (Ps. 130.7); and again, 'He entered in once into

   the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us' (Heb.

   9.12). Of His salvation it is written, 'He forsaketh not His that be

   godly; but they are preserved for ever' (Ps. 37.28); and of His

   bounty, 'Good measure, pressed down and shaken together, and running

   over, shall men give into your bosom' (Luke 6.38); and in another

   place, 'Eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the

   heart of man, those things which God hath prepared for them that love

   Him' (I Cor. 2.9). He will glorify us, even as the apostle beareth

   witness, saying, 'We look for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who

   shall change our vile body that it may be fashioned like unto His

   glorious body' (Phil. 3.20f); and again, 'I reckon that the sufferings

   of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory

   which shall be revealed in us' (Rom. 8.18); and once more, 'Our light

   affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more

   exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things

   which are seen, but at the things which are not seen (II Cor. 4.17f).

  

   'What shall I render unto the Lord for all His benefits towards me?'

   (Ps. 116.12). Reason and natural justice alike move me to give up

   myself wholly to loving Him to whom I owe all that I have and am. But

   faith shows me that I should love Him far more than I love myself, as

   I come to realize that He hath given me not my own life only, but even

   Himself. Yet, before the time of full revelation had come, before the

   Word was made flesh, died on the Cross, came forth from the grave, and

   returned to His Father; before God had shown us how much He loved us

   by all this plenitude of grace, the commandment had been uttered,

   'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all

   thy soul and with all thy might' (Deut. 6.5), that is, with all thy

   being, all thy knowledge, all thy powers. And it was not unjust for

   God to claim this from His own work and gifts. Why should not the

   creature love his Creator, who gave him the power to love? Why should

   he not love Him with all his being, since it is by His gift alone that

   he can do anything that is good? It was God's creative grace that out

   of nothingness raised us to the dignity of manhood; and from this

   appears our duty to love Him, and the justice of His claim to that

   love. But how infinitely is the benefit increased when we bethink

   ourselves of His fulfillment of the promise, 'thou, Lord, shalt save

   both man and beast: how excellent is Thy mercy, O Lord! ' (Ps. 36.6f).

   For we, who 'turned our glory into the similitude of a calf that

   eateth hay' (Ps. 106.20), by our evil deeds debased ourselves so that

   we might be compared unto the beasts that perish. I owe all that I am

   to Him who made me: but how can I pay my debt to Him who redeemed me,

   and in such wondrous wise? Creation was not so vast a work as

   redemption; for it is written of man and of all things that were made,

   'He spake the word, and they were made' (Ps. 148.5). But to redeem

   that creation which sprang into being at His word, how much He spake,

   what wonders He wrought, what hardships He endured, what shames He

   suffered! Therefore what reward shall I give unto the Lord for all the

   benefits which He hath done unto me? In the first creation He gave me

   myself; but in His new creation He gave me Himself, and by that gift

   restored to me the self that I had lost. Created first and then

   restored, I owe Him myself twice over in return for myself. But what

   have I to offer Him for the gift of Himself? Could I multiply myself a

   thousand-fold and then give Him all, what would that be in comparison

   with God?

  

  

Chapter VI. A brief summary

 

   Admit that God deserves to be loved very much, yea, boundlessly,

   because He loved us first, He infinite and we nothing, loved us,

   miserable sinners, with a love so great and so free. This is why I

   said at the beginning that the measure of our love to God is to love

   immeasurably. For since our love is toward God, who is infinite and

   immeasurable, how can we bound or limit the love we owe Him? Besides,

   our love is not a gift but a debt. And since it is the Godhead who

   loves us, Himself boundless, eternal, supreme love, of whose greatness

   there is no end, yea, and His wisdom is infinite, whose peace passeth

   all understanding; since it is He who loves us, I say, can we think of

   repaying Him grudgingly? 'I will love Thee, O Lord, my strength. The

   Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my strength,

   in whom I will trust' (Ps. 18.1f). He is all that I need, all that I

   long for. My God and my help, I will love Thee for Thy great goodness;

   not so much as I might, surely, but as much as I can. I cannot love

   Thee as Thou deservest to be loved, for I cannot love Thee more than

   my own feebleness permits. I will love Thee more when Thou deemest me

   worthy to receive greater capacity for loving; yet never so perfectly

   as Thou hast deserved of me. 'Thine eyes did see my substance, yet

   being unperfect; and in Thy book all my members were written' (Ps.

   139.16). Yet Thou recordest in that book all who do what they can,

   even though they cannot do what they ought. Surely I have said enough

   to show how God should be loved and why. But who has felt, who can

   know, who express, how much we should love him.

  

  

Chapter VII. Of love toward God not without reward: and how the hunger of

man's heart cannot be satisfied with earthly things

 

   And now let us consider what profit we shall have from loving God.

   Even though our knowledge of this is imperfect, still that is better

   than to ignore it altogether. I have already said (when it was a

   question of wherefore and in what manner God should be loved) that

   there was a double reason constraining us: His right and our

   advantage. Having written as best I can, though unworthily, of God's

   right to be loved. I have still to treat of the recompense which that

   love brings. For although God would be loved without respect of

   reward, yet He wills not to leave love unrewarded. True charity cannot

   be left destitute, even though she is unselfish and seeketh not her

   own (I Cor. 13.5). Love is an affection of the soul, not a contract:

   it cannot rise from a mere agreement, nor is it so to be gained. It is

   spontaneous in its origin and impulse; and true love is its own

   satisfaction. It has its reward; but that reward is the object

   beloved. For whatever you seem to love, if it is on account of

   something else, what you do really love is that something else, not

   the apparent object of desire. St. Paul did not preach the Gospel that

   he might earn his bread; he ate that he might be strengthened for his

   ministry. What he loved was not bread, but the Gospel. True love does

   not demand a reward, but it deserves one. Surely no one offers to pay

   for love; yet some recompense is due to one who loves, and if his love

   endures he will doubtless receive it.

  

   On a lower plane of action, it is the reluctant, not the eager, whom

   we urge by promises of reward. Who would think of paying a man to do

   what he was yearning to do already? For instance no one would hire a

   hungry man to eat, or a thirsty man to drink, or a mother to nurse her

   own child. Who would think of bribing a farmer to dress his own

   vineyard, or to dig about his orchard, or to rebuild his house? So,

   all the more, one who loves God truly asks no other recompense than

   God Himself; for if he should demand anything else it would be the

   prize that he loved and not God.

  

   It is natural for a man to desire what he reckons better than that

   which he has already, and be satisfied with nothing which lacks that

   special quality which he misses. Thus, if it is for her beauty that he

   loves his wife, he will cast longing eyes after a fairer woman. If he

   is clad in a rich garment, he will covet a costlier one; and no matter

   how rich he may be he will envy a man richer than himself. Do we not

   see people every day, endowed with vast estates, who keep on joining

   field to field, dreaming of wider boundaries for their lands? Those

   who dwell in palaces are ever adding house to house, continually

   building up and tearing down, remodeling and changing. Men in high

   places are driven by insatiable ambition to clutch at still greater

   prizes. And nowhere is there any final satisfaction, because nothing

   there can be defined as absolutely the best or highest. But it is

   natural that nothing should content a man's desires but the very best,

   as he reckons it. Is it not, then, mad folly always to be craving for

   things which can never quiet our longings, much less satisfy them? No

   matter how many such things one has, he is always lusting after what

   he has not; never at peace, he sighs for new possessions.

   Discontented, he spends himself in fruitless toil, and finds only

   weariness in the evanescent and unreal pleasures of the world. In his

   greediness, he counts all that he has clutched as nothing in

   comparison with what is beyond his grasp, and loses all pleasure in

   his actual possessions by longing after what he has not, yet covets.

   No man can ever hope to own all things. Even the little one does

   possess is got only with toil and is held in fear; since each is

   certain to lose what he hath when God's day, appointed though

   unrevealed, shall come. But the perverted will struggles towards the

   ultimate good by devious ways, yearning after satisfaction, yet led

   astray by vanity and deceived by wickedness. Ah, if you wish to attain

   to the consummation of all desire, so that nothing unfulfilled will be

   left, why weary yourself with fruitless efforts, running hither and

   thither, only to die long before the goal is reached?

  

   It is so that these impious ones wander in a circle, longing after

   something to gratify their yearnings, yet madly rejecting that which

   alone can bring them to their desired end, not by exhaustion but by

   attainment. They wear themselves out in vain travail, without reaching

   their blessed consummation, because they delight in creatures, not in

   the Creator. They want to traverse creation, trying all things one by

   one, rather than think of coming to Him who is Lord of all. And if

   their utmost longing were realized, so that they should have all the

   world for their own, yet without possessing Him who is the Author of

   all being, then the same law of their desires would make them contemn

   what they had and restlessly seek Him whom they still lacked, that is,

   God Himself. Rest is in Him alone. Man knows no peace in the world;

   but he has no disturbance when he is with God. And so the soul says

   with confidence, 'Whom have I in heaven but Thee; and there is none

   upon earth that I desire in comparison of Thee. God is the strength of

   my heart, and my portion for ever. It is good for me to hold me fast

   by God, to put my trust in the Lord God' (Ps. 73.25ff). Even by this

   way one would eventually come to God, if only he might have time to

   test all lesser goods in turn.

  

   But life is too short, strength too feeble, and competitors too many,

   for that course to be practicable. One could never reach the end,

   though he were to weary himself with the long effort and fruitless

   toil of testing everything that might seem desirable. It would be far

   easier and better to make the assay in imagination rather than in

   experiment. For the mind is swifter in operation and keener in

   discrimination than the bodily senses, to this very purpose that it

   may go before the sensuous affections so that they may cleave to

   nothing which the mind has found worthless. And so it is written,

   'Prove all things: hold fast that which is good' (I Thess. 5.21).

   Which is to say that right judgment should prepare the way for the

   heart. Otherwise we may not ascend into the hill of the Lord nor rise

   up in His holy place (Ps. 24.3). We should have no profit in

   possessing a rational mind if we were to follow the impulse of the

   senses, like brute beasts, with no regard at all to reason. Those whom

   reason does not guide in their course may indeed run, but not in the

   appointed race-track, neglecting the apostolic counsel, 'So run that

   ye may obtain'. For how could they obtain the prize who put that last

   of all in their endeavor and run round after everything else first?

  

   But as for the righteous man, it is not so with him. He remembers the

   condemnation pronounced on the multitude who wander after vanity, who

   travel the broad way that leads to death (Matt. 7.13); and he chooses

   the King's highway, turning aside neither to the right hand nor to the

   left (Num. 20.17), even as the prophet saith, 'The way of the just is

   uprightness (Isa. 26.7). Warned by wholesome counsel he shuns the

   perilous road, and heeds the direction that shortens the search,

   forbidding covetousness and commanding that he sell all that he hath

   and give to the poor (Matt. 19.21). Blessed, truly, are the poor, for

   theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven (Matt. 5.3). They which run in a race,

   run all, but distinction is made among the racers. 'The Lord knoweth

   the way of the righteous: and the way of the ungodly shall perish'

   (Ps. 1.6). 'A small thing that the righteous hath is better than great

   riches of the ungodly' (Ps. 37.16). Even as the Preacher saith, and

   the fool discovereth, 'He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied

   with silver' (Eccles. 5.10). But Christ saith, 'Blessed are they which

   do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled'

   (Matt. 5.6). Righteousness is the natural and essential food of the

   soul, which can no more be satisfied by earthly treasures than the

   hunger of the body can be satisfied by air. If you should see a

   starving man standing with mouth open to the wind, inhaling draughts

   of air as if in hope of gratifying his hunger, you would think him

   lunatic. But it is no less foolish to imagine that the soul can be

   satisfied with worldly things which only inflate it without feeding

   it. What have spiritual gifts to do with carnal appetites, or carnal

   with spiritual? Praise the Lord, O my soul: who satisfieth thy mouth

   with good things (Ps. 103.1ff). He bestows bounty immeasurable; He

   provokes thee to good, He preserves thee in goodness; He prevents, He

   sustains, He fills thee. He moves thee to longing, and it is He for

   whom thou longest.

  

   I have said already that the motive for loving God is God Himself. And

   I spoke truly, for He is as well the efficient cause as the final

   object of our love. He gives the occasion for love, He creates the

   affection, He brings the desire to good effect. He is such that love

   to Him is a natural due; and so hope in Him is natural, since our

   present love would be vain did we not hope to love Him perfectly some

   day. Our love is prepared and rewarded by His. He loves us first, out

   of His great tenderness; then we are bound to repay Him with love; and

   we are permitted to cherish exultant hopes in Him. 'He is rich unto

   all that call upon Him' (Rom. 10.12), yet He has no gift for them

   better than Himself. He gives Himself as prize and reward: He is the

   refreshment of holy soul, the ransom of those in captivity. 'The Lord

   is good unto them that wait for Him' (Lam. 3.25). What will He be then

   to those who gain His presence? But here is a paradox, that no one can

   seek the Lord who has not already found Him. It is Thy will, O God, to

   be found that Thou mayest be sought, to be sought that Thou mayest the

   more truly be found. But though Thou canst be sought and found, Thou

   canst not be forestalled. For if we say, 'Early shall my prayer come

   before Thee' (Ps. 88.13), yet doubtless all prayer would be lukewarm

   unless it was animated by Thine inspiration.

  

   We have spoken of the consummation of love towards God: now to

   consider whence such love begins.

  

  

Chapter VIII. Of the first degree of love: wherein man loves God for self's

sake

 

   Love is one of the four natural affections, which it is needless to

   name since everyone knows them. And because love is natural, it is

   only right to love the Author of nature first of all. Hence comes the

   first and great commandment, 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God.' But

   nature is so frail and weak that necessity compels her to love herself

   first; and this is carnal love, wherewith man loves himself first and

   selfishly, as it is written, 'That was not first which is spiritual

   but that which is natural; and afterward that which is spiritual' (I

   Cor. 15.46). This is not as the precept ordains but as nature directs:

   'No man ever yet hated his own flesh' (Eph. 5.29). But if, as is

   likely, this same love should grow excessive and, refusing to be

   contained within the restraining banks of necessity, should overflow

   into the fields of voluptuousness, then a command checks the flood, as

   if by a dike: 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself'. And this is

   right: for he who shares our nature should share our love, itself the

   fruit of nature. Wherefore if a man find it a burden, I will not say

   only to relieve his brother's needs, but to minister to his brother's

   pleasures, let him mortify those same affections in himself, lest he

   become a transgressor. He may cherish himself as tenderly as he

   chooses, if only he remembers to show the same indulgence to his

   neighbor. This is the curb of temperance imposed on thee, O man, by

   the law of life and conscience, lest thou shouldest follow thine own

   lusts to destruction, or become enslaved by those passions which are

   the enemies of thy true welfare. Far better divide thine enjoyments

   with thy neighbor than with these enemies. And if, after the counsel

   of the son of Sirach, thou goest not after thy desires but refrainest

   thyself from thine appetites (Ecclus. 18.30); if according to the

   apostolic precept having food and raiment thou art therewith content

   (I Tim. 6.8), then thou wilt find it easy to abstain from fleshly

   lusts which war against the soul, and to divide with thy neighbors

   what thou hast refused to thine own desires. That is a temperate and

   righteous love which practices self-denial in order to minister to a

   brother's necessity. So our selfish love grows truly social, when it

   includes our neighbors in its circle.

  

   But if thou art reduced to want by such benevolence, what then? What

   indeed, except to pray with all confidence unto Him who giveth to all

   men liberally and upbraideth not (James 1.5), who openeth His hand and

   filleth all things living with plenteousness (Ps. 145.16). For

   doubtless He that giveth to most men more than they need will not fail

   thee as to the necessaries of life, even as He hath promised: 'Seek ye

   the Kingdom of God, and all those things shall be added unto you'

   (Luke 12.31). God freely promises all things needful to those who deny

   themselves for love of their neighbors; and to bear the yoke of

   modesty and sobriety, rather than to let sin reign in our mortal body

   (Rom. 6.12), that is indeed to seek the Kingdom of God and to implore

   His aid against the tyranny of sin. It is surely justice to share our

   natural gifts with those who share our nature.

  

   But if we are to love our neighbors as we ought, we must have regard

   to God also: for it is only in God that we can pay that debt of love

   aright. Now a man cannot love his neighbor in God, except he love God

   Himself; wherefore we must love God first, in order to love our

   neighbors in Him. This too, like all good things, is the Lord's doing,

   that we should love Him, for He hath endowed us with the possibility

   of love. He who created nature sustains it; nature is so constituted

   that its Maker is its protector for ever. Without Him nature could not

   have begun to be; without Him it could not subsist at all. That we

   might not be ignorant of this, or vainly attribute to ourselves the

   beneficence of our Creator, God has determined in the depths of His

   wise counsel that we should be subject to tribulations. So when man's

   strength fails and God comes to his aid, it is meet and right that

   man, rescued by God's hand, should glorify Him, as it is written,

   'Call upon Me in the time of trouble; so will I hear thee, and thou

   shalt praise Me' (Ps. 50.15). In such wise man, animal and carnal by

   nature, and loving only himself, begins to love God by reason of that

   very self-love; since he learns that in God he can accomplish all

   things that are good, and that without God he can do nothing.

  

  

Chapter IX. Of the second and third degrees of love

 

   So then in the beginning man loves God, not for God's sake, but for

   his own. It is something for him to know how little he can do by

   himself and how much by God's help, and in that knowledge to order

   himself rightly towards God, his sure support. But when tribulations,

   recurring again and again, constrain him to turn to God for unfailing

   help, would not even a heart as hard as iron, as cold as marble, be

   softened by the goodness of such a Savior, so that he would love God

   not altogether selfishly, but because He is God? Let frequent troubles

   drive us to frequent supplications; and surely, tasting, we must see

   how gracious the Lord is (Ps. 34.8). Thereupon His goodness once

   realized draws us to love Him unselfishly, yet more than our own needs

   impel us to love Him selfishly: even as the Samaritans told the woman

   who announced that it was Christ who was at the well: 'Now we believe,

   not because of thy saying: for we have heard Him ourselves, and know

   that this is indeed the Christ, the savior of the world' (John 4.42).

   We likewise bear the same witness to our own fleshly nature, saying,

   'No longer do we love God because of our necessity, but because we

   have tasted and seen how gracious the Lord is'. Our temporal wants

   have a speech of their own, proclaiming the benefits they have

   received from God's favor. Once this is recognized it will not be hard

   to fulfill the commandment touching love to our neighbors; for

   whosoever loves God aright loves all God's creatures. Such love is

   pure, and finds no burden in the precept bidding us purify our souls,

   in obeying the truth through the Spirit unto unfeigned love of the

   brethren (I Peter 1.22). Loving as he ought, he counts that command

   only just. Such love is thankworthy, since it is spontaneous; pure,

   since it is shown not in word nor tongue, but in deed and truth (I

   John 3.18); just, since it repays what it has received. Whoso loves in

   this fashion, loves even as he is loved, and seeks no more his own but

   the things which are Christ's, even as Jesus sought not His own

   welfare, but ours, or rather ourselves. Such was the psalmist's love

   when he sang: 'O give thanks unto the Lord, for He is gracious' (Ps.

   118.1). Whosoever praises God for His essential goodness, and not

   merely because of the benefits He has bestowed, does really love God

   for God's sake, and not selfishly. The psalmist was not speaking of

   such love when he said: 'So long as thou doest well unto thyself, men

   will speak good of thee'(Ps. 49.18). The third degree of love, we have

   now seen, is to love God on His own account, solely because He is God.

  

  

Chapter X. Of the fourth degree of love: wherein man does not even love self

save for God's sake

 

   How blessed is he who reaches the fourth degree of love, wherein one

   loves himself only in God! Thy righteousness standeth like the strong

   mountains, O God. Such love as this is God's hill, in the which it

   pleaseth Him to dwell. 'Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord?'

   'O that I had wings like a dove; for then would I flee away and be at

   rest.' 'At Salem is His tabernacle; and His dwelling in Sion.' 'Woe is

   me, that I am constrained to dwell with Mesech! ' (Ps. 24.3; 55.6;

   76.2; 120.5). When shall this flesh and blood, this earthen vessel

   which is my soul's tabernacle, attain thereto? When shall my soul,

   rapt with divine love and altogether self-forgetting, yea, become like

   a broken vessel, yearn wholly for God, and, joined unto the Lord, be

   one spirit with Him? When shall she exclaim, 'My flesh and my heart

   faileth; but God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever'

   (Ps. 73.26). I would count him blessed and holy to whom such rapture

   has been vouchsafed in this mortal life, for even an instant to lose

   thyself, as if thou wert emptied and lost and swallowed up in God, is

   no human love; it is celestial. But if sometimes a poor mortal feels

   that heavenly joy for a rapturous moment, then this wretched life

   envies his happiness, the malice of daily trifles disturbs him, this

   body of death weighs him down, the needs of the flesh are imperative,

   the weakness of corruption fails him, and above all brotherly love

   calls him back to duty. Alas! that voice summons him to re-enter his

   own round of existence; and he must ever cry out lamentably, 'O Lord,

   I am oppressed: undertake for me' (Isa. 38.14); and again, 'O wretched

   man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?'

   (Rom. 7.24).

  

   Seeing that the Scripture saith, God has made all for His own glory

   (Isa. 43.7), surely His creatures ought to conform themselves, as much

   as they can, to His will. In Him should all our affections center, so

   that in all things we should seek only to do His will, not to please

   ourselves. And real happiness will come, not in gratifying our desires

   or in gaining transient pleasures, but in accomplishing God's will for

   us: even as we pray every day: 'Thy will be done in earth as it is in

   heaven' (Matt. 6.10). O chaste and holy love! O sweet and gracious

   affection! O pure and cleansed purpose, thoroughly washed and purged

   from any admixture of selfishness, and sweetened by contact with the

   divine will! To reach this state is to become godlike. As a drop of

   water poured into wine loses itself, and takes the color and savor of

   wine; or as a bar of iron, heated red-hot, becomes like fire itself,

   forgetting its own nature; or as the air, radiant with sun-beams,

   seems not so much to be illuminated as to be light itself; so in the

   saints all human affections melt away by some unspeakable

   transmutation into the will of God. For how could God be all in all,

   if anything merely human remained in man? The substance will endure,

   but in another beauty, a higher power, a greater glory. When will that

   be? Who will see, who possess it? 'When shall I come to appear before

   the presence of God?' (Ps. 42.2). 'My heart hath talked of Thee, Seek

   ye My face: Thy face, Lord, will I seek' (Ps. 27.8). Lord, thinkest

   Thou that I, even I shall see Thy holy temple?

  

   In this life, I think, we cannot fully and perfectly obey that

   precept, 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and

   with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind'

   (Luke 10.27). For here the heart must take thought for the body; and

   the soul must energize the flesh; and the strength must guard itself

   from impairment. And by God's favor, must seek to increase. It is

   therefore impossible to offer up all our being to God, to yearn

   altogether for His face, so long as we must accommodate our purposes

   and aspirations to these fragile, sickly bodies of ours. Wherefore the

   soul may hope to possess the fourth degree of love, or rather to be

   possessed by it, only when it has been clothed upon with that

   spiritual and immortal body, which will be perfect, peaceful, lovely,

   and in everything wholly subjected to the spirit. And to this degree

   no human effort can attain: it is in God's power to give it to whom He

   wills. Then the soul will easily reach that highest stage, because no

   lusts of the flesh will retard its eager entrance into the joy of its

   Lord, and no troubles will disturb its peace. May we not think that

   the holy martyrs enjoyed this grace, in some degree at least, before

   they laid down their victorious bodies? Surely that was immeasurable

   strength of love which enraptured their souls, enabling them to laugh

   at fleshly torments and to yield their lives gladly. But even though

   the frightful pain could not destroy their peace of mind, it must have

   impaired somewhat its perfection.

  

  

Chapter XI. Of the attainment of this perfection of love only at the

resurrection

 

   What of the souls already released from their bodies? We believe that

   they are overwhelmed in that vast sea of eternal light and of luminous

   eternity. But no one denies that they still hope and desire to receive

   their bodies again: whence it is plain that they are not yet wholly

   transformed, and that something of self remains yet unsurrendered. Not

   until death is swallowed up in victory, and perennial light overflows

   the uttermost bounds of darkness, not until celestial glory clothes

   our bodies, can our souls be freed entirely from self and give

   themselves up to God. For until then souls are bound to bodies, if not

   by a vital connection of sense, still by natural affection; so that

   without their bodies they cannot attain to their perfect consummation,

   nor would they if they could. And although there is no defect in the

   soul itself before the restoration of its body, since it has already

   attained to the highest state of which it is by itself capable, yet

   the spirit would not yearn for reunion with the flesh if without the

   flesh it could be consummated.

  

   And finally, 'Right dear in the sight of the Lord is the death of His

   saints' (Ps. 116.15). But if their death is precious, what must such a

   life as theirs be! No wonder that the body shall seem to add fresh

   glory to the spirit; for though it is weak and mortal, it has availed

   not a little for mutual help. How truly he spake who said, 'All things

   work together for good to them that love God' (Rom. 8.28). The body is

   a help to the soul that loves God, even when it is ill, even when it

   is dead, and all the more when it is raised again from the dead: for

   illness is an aid to penitence; death is the gate of rest; and the

   resurrection will bring consummation. So, rightly, the soul would not

   be perfected without the body, since she recognizes that in every

   condition it has been needful to her good.

  

   The flesh then is a good and faithful comrade for a good soul: since

   even when it is a burden it assists; when the help ceases, the burden

   ceases too; and when once more the assistance begins, there is no

   longer a burden. The first state is toilsome, but fruitful; the second

   is idle, but not monotonous: the third is glorious. Hear how the

   Bridegroom in Canticles bids us to this threefold progress: 'Eat, O

   friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved' (Cant. 5.1). He

   offers food to those who are laboring with bodily toil; then He calls

   the resting souls whose bodies are laid aside, to drink; and finally

   He urges those who have resumed their bodies to drink abundantly.

   Surely those He styles 'beloved' must overflow with charity; and that

   is the difference between them and the others, whom He calls not

   'beloved' but 'friends'. Those who yet groan in the body are dear to

   Him, according to the love that they have; those released from the

   bonds of flesh are dearer because they have become readier and abler

   to love than hitherto. But beyond either of these classes are those

   whom He calls 'beloved': for they have received the second garment,

   that is, their glorified bodies, so that now nothing of self remains

   to hinder or disturb them, and they yield themselves eagerly and

   entirely to loving God. This cannot be so with the others; for the

   first have the weight of the body to bear, and the second desires the

   body again with something of selfish expectation.

  

   At first then the faithful soul eats her bread, but alas! in the sweat

   of her face. Dwelling in the flesh, she walks as yet by faith, which

   must work through love. As faith without words is dead, so work itself

   is food for her; even as our Lord saith, 'My meat is to do the will of

   Him that sent Me' (John 4.34). When the flesh is laid aside, she eats

   no more the bread of carefulness, but is allowed to drink deeply of

   the wine of love, as if after a repast. But the wine is not yet

   unmingled; even as the Bridegroom saith in another place, 'I have

   drunk My wine with My milk' (Cant. 5.1). For the soul mixes with the

   wine of God's love the milk of natural affection, that is, the desire

   for her body and its glorification. She glows with the wine of holy

   love which she has drunk; but she is not yet all on fire, for she has

   tempered the potency of that wine with milk. The unmingled wine would

   enrapture the soul and make her wholly unconscious of self; but here

   is no such transport for she is still desirous of her body. When that

   desire is appeased, when the one lack is supplied, what should hinder

   her then from yielding herself utterly to God, losing her own likeness

   and being made like unto Him? At last she attains to that chalice of

   the heavenly wisdom, of which it is written, 'My cup shall be full.'

   Now indeed she is refreshed with the abundance of the house of God,

   where all selfish, carking care is done away, and where, for ever

   safe, she drinks the fruit of the vine, new and pure, with Christ in

   the Kingdom of His Father (Matt. 26.29).

  

   It is Wisdom who spreads this threefold supper where all the repast is

   love; Wisdom who feeds the toilers, who gives drink to those who rest,

   who floods with rapture those that reign with Christ. Even as at an

   earthly banquet custom and nature serve meat first and then wine, so

   here. Before death, while we are still in mortal flesh, we eat the

   labors of our hands, we swallow with an effort the food so gained; but

   after death, we shall begin eagerly to drink in the spiritual life and

   finally, reunited to our bodies, and rejoicing in fullness of delight,

   we shall be refreshed with immortality. This is what the Bridegroom

   means when He saith: 'Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O

   beloved.' Eat before death; begin to drink after death; drink

   abundantly after the resurrection. Rightly are they called beloved who

   have drunk abundantly of love; rightly do they drink abundantly who

   are worthy to be brought to the marriage supper of the Lamb, eating

   and drinking at His table in His Kingdom (Rev. 19.9; Luke 22.30). At

   that supper, He shall present to Himself a glorious Church, not having

   spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing (Eph. 5.27). Then truly shall He

   refresh His beloved; then He shall give them drink of His pleasures,

   as out of the river (Ps. 36.8). While the Bridegroom clasps the Bride

   in tender, pure embrace, then the rivers of the flood thereof shall

   make glad the city of God (Ps. 46.4). And this refers to the Son of

   God Himself, who will come forth and serve them, even as He hath

   promised; so that in that day the righteous shall be glad and rejoice

   before God: they shall also be merry and joyful (Ps. 68.3). Here

   indeed is appeasement without weariness: here never-quenched thirst

   for knowledge, without distress; here eternal and infinite desire

   which knows no want; here, finally, is that sober inebriation which

   comes not from drinking new wine but from enjoying God (Acts 2.13).

   The fourth degree of love is attained for ever when we love God only

   and supremely, when we do not even love ourselves except for God's

   sake; so that He Himself is the reward of them that love Him, the

   everlasting reward of an everlasting love.

  

  

Chapter XII. Of love: out of a letter to the Carthusians

 

   I remember writing a letter to the holy Carthusian brethren, wherein I

   discussed these degrees of love, and spoke of charity in other words,

   although not in another sense, than here. It may be well to repeat a

   portion of that letter, since it is easier to copy than to dictate

   anew.

  

   To love our neighbor's welfare as much as our own: that is true and

   sincere charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of

   faith unfeigned (I Tim. 1.5). Whosoever loves his own prosperity only

   is proved thereby not to love good for its own sake, since he loves it

   on his own account. And so he cannot sing with the psalmist, 'O give

   thanks unto the Lord, for He is gracious' (Ps. 118.1). Such a man

   would praise God, not because He is goodness, but because He has been

   good to him: he could take to himself the reproach of the same writer,

   'So long as Thou doest well unto him, he will speak good of Thee' (Ps.

   49.18, Vulg.). One praises God because He is mighty, another because

   He is gracious, yet another solely because He is essential goodness.

   The first is a slave and fears for himself; the second is greedy,

   desiring further benefits; but the third is a son who honors his

   Father. He who fears, he who profits, are both concerned about

   self-interest. Only in the son is that charity which seeketh not her

   own (I Cor. 13.5). Wherefore I take this saying, 'The law of the Lord

   is an undefiled law, converting the soul' (Ps. 19.7) to be of charity;

   because charity alone is able to turn the soul away from love of self

   and of the world to pure love of God. Neither fear nor self-interest

   can convert the soul. They may change the appearance, perhaps even the

   conduct, but never the object of supreme desire. Sometimes a slave may

   do God's work; but because he does not toil voluntarily, he remains in

   bondage. So a mercenary may serve God, but because he puts a price on

   his service, he is enchained by his own greediness. For where there is

   self-interest there is isolation; and such isolation is like the dark

   corner of a room where dust and rust befoul. Fear is the motive which

   constrains the slave; greed binds the selfish man, by which he is

   tempted when he is drawn away by his own lust and enticed (James

   1.14). But neither fear nor self-interest is undefiled, nor can they

   convert the soul. Only charity can convert the soul, freeing it from

   unworthy motives.

  

   Next, I call it undefined because it never keeps back anything of its

   own for itself. When a man boasts of nothing as his very own, surely

   all that he has is God's; and what is God's cannot be unclean. The

   undefiled law of the Lord is that love which bids men seek not their

   own, but every man another's wealth. It is called the law of the Lord

   as much because He lives in accordance with it as because no man has

   it except by gift from Him. Nor is it improper to say that even God

   lives by law, when that law is the law of love. For what preserves the

   glorious and ineffable Unity of the blessed Trinity, except love?

   Charity, the law of the Lord, joins the Three Persons into the unity

   of the Godhead and unites the holy Trinity in the bond of peace. Do

   not suppose me to imply that charity exists as an accidental quality

   of Deity; for whatever could be conceived of as wanting in the divine

   Nature is not God. No, it is the very substance of the Godhead; and my

   assertion is neither novel nor extraordinary, since St. John says,

   'God is love' (I John 4.8). One may therefore say with truth that love

   is at once God and the gift of God, essential love imparting the

   quality of love. Where the word refers to the Giver, it is the name of

   His very being; where the gift is meant, it is the name of a quality.

   Love is the eternal law whereby the universe was created and is ruled.

   Since all things are ordered in measure and number and weight, and

   nothing is left outside the realm of law, that universal law cannot

   itself be without a law, which is itself. So love though it did not

   create itself, does surely govern itself by its own decree.

  

  

Chapter XIII. Of the law of self-will and desire, of slaves and hirelings

 

   Furthermore, the slave and the hireling have a law, not from the Lord,

   but of their own contriving; the one does not love God, the other

   loves something else more than God. They have a law of their own, not

   of God, I say; yet it is subject to the law of the Lord. For though

   they can make laws for themselves, they cannot supplant the changeless

   order of the eternal law. Each man is a law unto himself, when he sets

   up his will against the universal law, perversely striving to rival

   his Creator, to be wholly independent, making his will his only law.

   What a heavy and burdensome yoke upon all the sons of Adam, bowing

   down our necks, so that our life draweth nigh unto hell. 'O wretched

   man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?'

   (Rom. 7.24). I am weighed down, I am almost overwhelmed, so that 'If

   the Lord had not helped me, it had not failed but my soul had been put

   to silence' (Ps. 94.17). Job was groaning under this load when he

   lamented: 'Why hast Thou set me as a mark against Thee, so that I am a

   burden to myself?' (Job 7.20). He was a burden to himself through the

   law which was of his own devising: yet he could not escape God's law,

   for he was set as a mark against God. The eternal law of righteousness

   ordains that he who will not submit to God's sweet rule shall suffer

   the bitter tyranny of self: but he who wears the easy yoke and light

   burden of love (Matt. 11.30) will escape the intolerable weight of his

   own self-will. Wondrously and justly does that eternal law retain

   rebels in subjection, so that they are unable to escape. They are

   subject to God's power, yet deprived of happiness with Him, unable to

   dwell with God in light and rest and glory everlasting. O Lord my God,

   'why dost Thou not pardon my transgression and take away mine

   iniquity?' (Job 7.21). Then freed from the weight of my own will, I

   can breathe easily under the light burden of love. I shall not be

   coerced by fear, nor allured by mercenary desires; for I shall be led

   by the Spirit of God, that free Spirit whereby Thy sons are led, which

   beareth witness with my spirit that I am among the children of God

   (Rom. 8.16). So shall I be under that law which is Thine; and as Thou

   art, so shall I be in the world. Whosoever do what the apostle bids,

   'Owe no man anything, but to love one another' (Rom. 13.8), are

   doubtless even in this life conformed to God's likeness: they are

   neither slaves nor hirelings but sons.

  

  

Chapter XIV. Of the law of the love of sons

 

   Now the children have their law, even though it is written, 'The law

   is not made for a righteous man' (I Tim. 1.9). For it must be

   remembered that there is one law having to do with the spirit of

   servitude, given to fear, and another with the spirit of liberty,

   given in tenderness. The children are not constrained by the first,

   yet they could not exist without the second: even as St. Paul writes,

   'Ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have

   received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father' (Rom.

   8.15). And again to show that that same righteous man was not under

   the law, he says: 'To them that are under the law, I became as under

   the law, that I might gain them that are under the law; to them that

   are without law, as without law (being not without law to God, but

   under the law to Christ)' (I Cor. 9.20f). So it is rightly said, not

   that the righteous do not have a law, but, 'The law is not made for a

   righteous man', that is, it is not imposed on rebels but freely given

   to those willingly obedient, by Him whose goodness established it.

   Wherefore the Lord saith meekly: 'Take My yoke upon you', which may be

   paraphrased thus: 'I do not force it on you, if you are reluctant; but

   if you will you may bear it. Otherwise it will be weariness, not rest,

   that you shall find for your souls.'

  

   Love is a good and pleasant law; it is not only easy to bear, but it

   makes the laws of slaves and hirelings tolerable; not destroying but

   completing them; as the Lord saith: 'I am not come to destroy the law,

   but to fulfill' (Matt. 5.17). It tempers the fear of the slave, it

   regulates the desires of the hireling, it mitigates the severity of

   each. Love is never without fear, but it is godly fear. Love is never

   without desire, but it is lawful desire. So love perfects the law of

   service by infusing devotion; it perfects the law of wages by

   restraining covetousness. Devotion mixed with fear does not destroy

   it, but purges it. Then the burden of fear which was intolerable while

   it was only servile, becomes tolerable; and the fear itself remains

   ever pure and filial. For though we read: 'Perfect love casteth out

   fear' (I John 4.18), we understand by that the suffering which is

   never absent from servile fear, the cause being put for the effect, as

   often elsewhere. So, too, self-interest is restrained within due

   bounds when love supervenes; for then it rejects evil things

   altogether, prefers better things to those merely good, and cares for

   the good only on account of the better. In like manner, by God's

   grace, it will come about that man will love his body and all things

   pertaining to his body, for the sake of his soul. He will love his

   soul for God's sake; and he will love God for Himself alone.

  

  

 Chapter XV. Of the four degrees of love, and of the blessed state of the

heavenly fatherland

 

   Nevertheless, since we are carnal and are born of the lust of the

   flesh, it must be that our desire and our love shall have its

   beginning in the flesh. But rightly guided by the grace of God through

   these degrees, it will have its consummation in the spirit: for that

   was not first which is spiritual but that which is natural; and

   afterward that which is spiritual (I Cor. 15.46). And we must bear the

   image of the earthy first, before we can bear the image of the

   heavenly. At first, man loves himself for his own sake. That is the

   flesh, which can appreciate nothing beyond itself. Next, he perceives

   that he cannot exist by himself, and so begins by faith to seek after

   God, and to love Him as something necessary to his own welfare. That

   is the second degree, to love God, not for God's sake, but selfishly.

   But when he has learned to worship God and to seek Him aright,

   meditating on God, reading God's Word, praying and obeying His

   commandments, he comes gradually to know what God is, and finds Him

   altogether lovely. So, having tasted and seen how gracious the Lord is

   (Ps. 34.8), he advances to the third degree, when he loves God, not

   merely as his benefactor but as God. Surely he must remain long in

   this state; and I know not whether it would be possible to make

   further progress in this life to that fourth degree and perfect

   condition wherein man loves himself solely for God's sake. Let any who

   have attained so far bear record; I confess it seems beyond my powers.

   Doubtless it will be reached when the good and faithful servant shall

   have entered into the joy of his Lord (Matt. 25.21), and been

   satisfied with the plenteousness of God's house (Ps. 36.8). For then

   in wondrous wise he will forget himself and as if delivered from self,

   he will grow wholly God's. Joined unto the Lord, he will then be one

   spirit with Him (I Cor. 6.17). This was what the prophet meant, I

   think, when he said: ' I will go forth in the strength of the Lord

   God: and will make mention of Thy righteousness only' (Ps. 71.16).

   Surely he knew that when he should go forth in the spiritual strength

   of the Lord, he would have been freed from the infirmities of the

   flesh, and would have nothing carnal to think of, but would be wholly

   filled in his spirit with the righteousness of the Lord.

  

   In that day the members of Christ can say of themselves what St. Paul

   testified concerning their Head: 'Yea, though we have known Christ

   after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we Him no more' (II Cor.

   5.16). None shall thereafter know himself after the flesh; for 'flesh

   and blood cannot inherit the Kingdom of God' (I Cor. 15.50). Not that

   there will be no true substance of the flesh, but all carnal needs

   will be taken away, and the love of the flesh will be swallowed up in

   the love of the spirit, so that our weak human affections will be made

   divinely strong. Then the net of charity which as it is drawn through

   the great and wide sea doth not cease to gather every kind of fish,

   will be drawn to the shore; and the bad will be cast away, while only

   the good will be kept (Matt. 13.48). In this life the net of

   all-including love gathers every kind of fish into its wide folds,

   becoming all things to all men, sharing adversity or prosperity,

   rejoicing with them that do rejoice, and weeping with them that weep

   (Rom. 12.15). But when the net is drawn to shore, whatever causes pain

   will be rejected, like the bad fish, while only what is pleasant and

   joyous will be kept. Do you not recall how St. Paul said: 'Who is weak

   and I am not weak? Who is offended and I burn not?' And yet weakness

   and offense were far from him. So too he bewailed many which had

   sinned already and had not repented, though he was neither the sinner

   nor the penitent. But there is a city made glad by the rivers of the

   flood of grace (Ps. 46.4), and whose gates the Lord loveth more than

   all the dwellings of Jacob (Ps. 87.2). In it is no place for

   lamentation over those condemned to everlasting fire, prepared for the

   devil and his angels (Matt. 25.41). In these earthly dwellings, though

   men may rejoice, yet they have still other battles to fight, other

   mortal perils to undergo. But in the heavenly Fatherland no sorrow nor

   sadness can enter: as it is written, 'The habitation of all rejoicing

   ones is in Thee' (Ps. 87. 7, Vulg.); and again, 'Everlasting joy shall

   be unto them' (Isa. 61.7). Nor could they recall things piteous, for

   then they will make mention of God's righteousness only. Accordingly,

   there will be no need for the exercise of compassion, for no misery

   will be there to inspire pity.

  

  

Index of Scripture References