The Book of Divine Consolation

AS I walked (said the Blessed Angela) by the way of JLjL penitence, I did take eighteen spiritual steps before I came to know the imperfection of my life. The first step was that I did begin to reflect upon my sins, the knowledge of which did fill my soul with so great a dread that, fearing to be condemned unto hell, I wept bitterly. The second was, that I did begin to be so exceeding ashamed of those my sins that for shame I could not fully confess them ; wherefore many times did I communicate whilst yet unconfessed and with all my sins did I receive the Body of our Lord. Being day and night reproached by my conscience because of this thing, I did pray the Blessed Francis that he would grant me to discover a con fessor meet for my needs, who should be well acquainted with my sins and unto whom I could fully confess myself. In that same night did the Blessed Francis appear unto me and say : " Sister, if thou hadst prayed unto me sooner thy prayer would have been sooner granted ; that which thou hast asked hath been done." Upon the next morn ing, therefore, I went into the church of Saint Francis and found there a friar preaching in Saint Feliciano, which friar was chaplain unto the bishop and did hold his autho rity ; and to him I did determine to make my confession immediately that the sermon should be ended. Where fore I did confess myself most fully and was absolved of all my sins. And in this confession I did feel no love, but only bitterness, shame, and pain.

The third step was that I did consequently persevere in the performance of the penance imposed upon me, and as yet I was filled with pain and misery without any other consolation. Fourthly, I did begin to consider and to know the divine mercy which had granted me the aforesaid grace and saved me from hell. Here did I begin to be en lightened and I did now weep and lament more than heretofore, forcing myself to do more severe penance, of the which I will not speak here. The fifth was that, being thus enlightened, and finding nothing save faults in me, I did condemn myself, as one who knew and was most assuredly convinced that she was worthy of hell ; whereat I did again weep bitterly. It must be understood, however, that between the one step and another there was a space of time, and I did ever weep and dolefully lament ; and there was nothing else vouch safed unto me, only I did have some consolation in that I could weep, but truly it was a bitter consolation. Sixthly, there was given unto me a constant and certain illumination of grace, whereby I was made to know my sins so profoundly that, having offended the Creator, I saw that I had likewise offended the creatures made for me. Therefore I did recall unto my memory all the sins which I had committed and in the confession (which I did make unto the Lord my God) I did most profoundly ponder over them.

Wherefore I did beseech all the saints, with the Blessed Virgin, that they would intercede for me, and I did pray the merciful Lord (who had vouch safed unto me so many good things), that He would have pity upon me, and, seeing that I did know myself to be dead in sin, that He would raise me to life again through His grace. Moreover, I did pray all creatures (seeing how that I had offended them inasmuch as I had offended the Creator), that they would not accuse me before God. Thus did it appear unto me that all creatures and all the saints did have compassion upon me, wherefore with a greater fire of love did I apply myself to praying unto God more than was customary.

The seventh was, that by an especial grace I did begin to gaze upon the Cross, whereon I did behold (as much with the eyes of my heart as with those of my body) Jesus Christ who had died for us, and I did feel great grief at that sight, notwithstanding that this vision and medita tion were as yet but little understood of me. The eighth was, that as I did gaze upon the Cross I was granted a greater understanding how that Christ had died for our sins. Whereupon I did so clearly perceive all mine own sins, and with such exceeding great grief, that I did feel that I myself had crucified the Lord. Neverthe less I did not yet know how great a blessing was the Passion of Christ, nor did I understand as clearly then as I afterwards did, how that He had redeemed me from my sins and converted me unto repentance, and had died for me. In this beholding of the Cross I did so burn with the fire of love and remorse that, standing before the Cross, I did divest myself of everything and did thus offer myself unto Him. And although I feared greatly, I did nevertheless promise to observe perpetual chastity and not to offend with any of my members, accusing my members one by one of past sins. And I did pray Him that He would make me to keep this my promise, that is, to pre serve chastity and to keep guard over my thoughts ; for upon the one hand I did greatly fear to promise, and upon the other hand the aforesaid fire compelled me, and I had no power to resist.

Ninthly, there was given unto me the desire to seek out and know the way of the Cross, that I might stand at its foot and find refuge there where all sinners find refuge. Unto which end I was enlightened and instructed after this manner : that if I did desire to find the way and come unto the Cross, I must first pardon all those who had offended me, and must then put away from me all earthly things, not only out of mine affections but likewise in very deed, and all men and women, friends and kindred and every other thing, but more especially my possessions must I put away, and even mine own self. And I must give my heart unto Christ (who hath done me such great good), electing to walk upon the thorny path, which is the path of tribulation. So then I did begin to put aside the best clothing and garments which I had and the most delicate food, likewise the covering for my head. But as yet it was a shameful and a hard thing for me to do, seeing that I did not feel much love for God and was living with mine husband. Wherefore was it a bitter thing for me when any offence was said or done unto me, but I did bear it as patiently as I was able. In that time and by God's will there died my mother, who was a great hindrance unto me in following the way of God ;

my husband died likewise, and in a short time there also died all my chil dren. And because I had commenced to follow the aforesaid way and had prayed God that He would rid me of them, I had great consolation of their deaths, albeit I did also feel some grief. Wherefore, because that God had shown this grace unto me, I did imagine that my heart was in the heart of God and that His will and His heart were in my heart.

Tenthly, seeking to know from God what thing I could do, the which would be most acceptable unto Him, He did of His mercy many times appear unto me, both sleeping and waking, and appearing fastened upon the Cross He did bid me gaze upon His wounds, and in a marvellous manner He did make me to know how that He had borne all things for me ; and this happened many times. And when He had showed unto me one by one all the things which He had borne for me, He said, " What canst thou do for Me that will suffice ? " Likewise did He appear unto me many times when I was awake, but in a manner more pleasing than when I was asleep (although I did always perceive His great grief and suffering), and He showed unto me the pains of His head and the hairs plucked from His eyebrows and His beard, counting over unto me all His scourgings and showing them unto me in the places where they had been inflicted, saying unto me, " All this was for thee." Then did I most clearly recall unto my memory all my sins, by the which it seemed unto me I had wounded Him afresh and therefore had cause for great lamentation, and I did doubtless feel much more sorrow than before. Thus showing His Passion unto me, He did say, " What canst thou do for Me that will suffice ? " Then did I weep and shed such burning tears that they did burn my flesh, wherefore it behoved me to lave it with cold water that it might be cooled.

The eleventh was, that because of my sins I was moved to do penance more severely, of the which it is not meet to speak here. And as I reflected and did oblige myself to wish to do this, it seemed unto me at last that I could not sufficiently do penance the whiles I was possessed of worldly things, wherefore in order the more freely to do this and to come unto the Cross as I had been inspired to do, I did determine most certainly to forsake everything. The which determination was marvellously sent unto me by God after this manner. In mine imagination I did cherish a great desire to become poor, and such was my zeal that ofttimes I did fear to die before I could attain unto this state of poverty. Upon the other hand I was assailed by temptations, the which did whisper unto my thoughts that I was youthful and that begging for alms might lead me into great danger and shame, and that if I did this I should be forced to die of hunger, cold, and nakedness. Moreover all my friends did dissuade me from this thing. But at last the Divine mercy did send a certain great illumination into mine heart, wherefrom I did derive a certain assurance, the which, as I believed then and do believe now, I shall not lose even in eternity. Wherefore I did dispose and determine that, even though I should be forced to die of hunger, cold, and shame, because such a thing was pleasing or might be pleasing unto God — I would by no means leave from my purpose, even though I were certain that these aforesaid evils should befall me, choosing to die willingly for the love of God rather than to fall short of mine intention. So then I did resolve in good earnest.

The twelfth was, that I did afterwards pray unto the Blessed Mother of Christ and the Blessed John the Evangelist that (for the sake of the suffering which they had endured), they would obtain for me a certain sign whereby I might always keep in memory the Passion of Christ. The thirteenth was, that, persevering in the aforesaid prayers and desires, a dream was granted unto me wherein was showed me the Heart of Christ, and it was told me that in that Heart there is no falsehood, because therein all things are true. And it seemed unto me that this sign was sent because I had mocked at a certain preacher. The fourteenth was, that being once at prayer, Christ did show Himself unto me as I kept vigil, more clearly and giving me greater knowledge of Himself than heretofore. Then it was that He did set me free, and it was after this manner. Firstly, He did question me ; then He did say unto me, " Put thy mouth into the wound in My side." Then methought that I did put it there and did drink the blood which was running freshly from out of His side, and in the doing of this it was given me to know that I was cleansed. And here I did begin to receive great consola tion, albeit I grieved when I did meditate upon the Passion. Then I did pray the Lord that He would cause my blood to be shed and poured out for His love's sake, as His had been shed for me, and I did desire that for His love all my members should suffer affliction and death, more vile and more bitter than His Passion. Wherefore I be thought me and did seek to find one who should put me to death, in order that I might suffer for the sake of His faith

and love. But I knew that I was not worthy to die as the holy martyrs had died. Nevertheless, I did desire that He would cause me to die, and by a death more vile and more slow, and more bitter. I could not bethink me of a death as vile as I did wish for, or one that would differ from the deaths of the saints — for I did most surely deem myself unworthy of dying their death. The fifteenth step was that I did fix my mind upon the Virgin Mother of God and upon Saint John, keeping them in my remembrance and praying them that (for the suffer ing which they had endured because of the Passion of our Lord) they would obtain for me the grace that I should always feel the pain of the Passion or at least of their sufferings. And they did obtain this grace for me in such a degree that one time Saint John did put upon me so great a pain that never did I feel a greater. Then did I perceive that the sufferings of Saint John and of the Mother of Christ (the which they did endure because of the Passion) were in very truth more than martyrdom. Then was it that the desire was given unto me to revile myself with all my might. And although I was much assailed by the devil and ofttimes tempted that I should not do this thing, and was forbidden by the Brothers Minor and by all from whom it was meet I should seek counsel, nevertheless by nothing either of good or of evil that could be done unto me was I prevented from giving all my possessions unto the poor. And if I had been hindered from doing this I would at least have forsaken

io THE BLESSED ANGELA all things because methought I could not keep any thing for myself without greatly offending Him who did thus enlighten me. Nevertheless I was yet sunk in bitterness because of my sins, neither did I know if the things which I did were pleasing unto God ; but with much weeping I cried, saying : " Lord, even though I be condemned, nevertheless will I not cease from doing penance, and I have put away all things from me in order to serve Thee." But being, as I have said, still sunk in bitterness because of my sins and not yet feeling any divine sweetness whatso ever, I was changed out of this state in the manner here after written down. The sixteenth was, that I did come again into the church to ask of God that He would bestow some mercy upon me. And whilst that I was praying and saying the Paternoster, God did implant that Paternoster in mine heart with so clear an understanding of the Divine goodness and mine own unworthiness that I could in no way describe it. Each word was written upon mine heart and I did speak it with great and enduring contrition and compunction. So that, although I wept because of my sins and mine un worthiness (the which I did here perceive), I did never theless have great consolation and did begin to taste some what of the Divine sweetness, because in the Paternoster I did see the Divine goodness better than in any other thing, and here likewise did I find it best. But because my sins and mine unworthiness were showed unto me in the aforesaid prayer, I did begin to be so greatly ashamed

that I did not presume to raise mine eyes either to heaven or to the Crucifix, or any other thing, but did commend myself unto the Blessed Virgin, that she should implore and obtain mercy for me and forgiveness of my sins, seeing that I was yet sunk in the bitterness of sin. Oh, sinners, how beset with difficulties and full of heaviness is the way of the soul unto repentance ! How art thou bound with strong chains and thy feet shackled ! How evil are thine helpers, or rather they who hinder thee, the world, the flesh, and the devil ! Ye must know that I did halt in each one of these aforesaid steps a good space of time before that I was enabled to move from the one unto the other ; albeit I did not remain equally long in each, but in some more and in some less time. Then at the seventeenth step were these things made manifest unto me, that the Blessed Virgin had obtained for me the grace of a more than human faith ; wherefore did it seem unto me that until that time my faith had been almost dead, when compared with that which had been newly given unto me. Likewise did it seem unto me that the tears which I had hitherto wept had been shed almost unwillingly when compared with those which I now shed. Wherefore I did now lament for the Passion of Christ and for the sufferings of His Mother more earnestly than I had done before. And now everything which I did, howso ever much or great, did seem unto me but of little ac count. And I did desire to do greater penance, and I did fill mine whole heart with Christ's Passion, because unto

me had been vouchsafed the hope that I might thereby be redeemed. I did now, moreover, begin to find consolation in dreams, for I did have fair and pleasant dreams, so that I was thereby consoled. I did likewise now begin to feel the sweetness and consolation of God within mine heart, and outwardly in my body continually, both sleeping and waking ; but because I did not yet feel any assurance, my joy was mingled with bitterness, neither did my heart take any rest, but ever desired further mercies from God. The eighteenth was, that I did at last begin to have the understanding and the visions and the words of God, and I so greatly delighted in prayer that I did forget to eat. Wherefore did I wish that there were no need for eating, in order that I might be ever at prayer. This desire did occasion a certain temptation not to eat, or, if I did eat, that I should eat but a small quantity. But I perceived this to be a snare ; and there was such a great fire of love in mine heart that I did never weary of being upon my knees, or of doing other penance. After this I was filled with a yet greater fire and fervour of Divine love, in such a degree that if I did hear any man speaking of God I did cry aloud, and even had there been one with an axe ready to kill me I could not have refrained. The first time that this happened unto me was when I did sell the little piece of land which was mine to give the money unto the poor (this was the best possession which I had), but in the be ginning I did mock at myself for this crying, as one mocketh

at Petruccio ; 1 then I perceived that I could by no manner of means do otherwise. Wherefore it did ofttimes happen that, hearing God spoken of, I did cry aloud, albeit that I was in the company of other persons, no matter who they might be. And when those persons did say unto me that I was disordered in that I should do such a thing, I did answer that I was sick and overwhelmed, and that I could not do otherwise. Neither could I convince those who spoke evil against me because of this thing, but I did feel greatly ashamed. When I beheld the Passion of Christ painted in a picture I could scarce contain myself, but was seized with a fever and fell into a sickness ; for the which reason my companion did hide such pictures of the Passion from me whenever it was possible, in order that I might not behold them. During the times of these cryings I did have many illuminations, understandings, visions, and consolations, of the which several will be written down in the following treatises.

IN order, therefore, that I might not feel myself exalted by the magnitude and the number of the revelations, visions, whose identity it is impossible now to trace. i4 THE BLESSED ANGELA and conversings with God, and that I might not be puffed up with the delight thereof, the great tempter was sent unto me, who did afflict me with many and divers tempta tions, wherefore was I afflicted both in my soul and in my body. The torments of the body were verily number less and were administered by many demons in divers ways, so that I do scarce believe that the sufferings and infirmity of my body could be written down. There re mained not one of my members the which was not grievously tormented ; neither was I ever without pain, without infirmity, or without weariness. Always was I weak and feeble, and full of pain, so that I was compelled to be almost continually lying down. All my limbs were as though beaten, and with many troubles did the demons afflict me. Thus was I perpetually sick and swelled, and in all my limbs I did suffer pain, so that it was difficult for me to move myself. Nevertheless was I not weary of lying still, neither was I yet able to eat sufficient. In short, the sufferings of the body were great, but those of the soul were beyond all comparison more bitter and more numerous, and all were inflicted by the same demons. I can only liken myself unto one who is hanged by the neck, his hands tied behind his back and his eyes bound, and who is left hanging by a rope upon the gallows ; and although he hath no help or remedy or support, he doth nevertheless continue to live in that torment and cannot die. And I do affirm that even more desperately and with greater cruelty was I afflicted by demons, for they hanged my soul

and all its strength was overwhelmed and departed from it. And seeing how that I had no power to oppose them, my grief was so great that at times I was scarce able to weep for rage and for grievous suffering. Moreover, I wept without obtaining relief, and ofttimes was my rage so great that I could scarce refrain from rending myself and beating myself most grievously, thus causing my head and all my members to swell. When my soul beheld itself cast down and all its virtue departed from it, then it made great lamentation, and then did I cry unto my God. After this I did endure another torment, for every vice was re-awakened within me. Not that — albeit re awakened — they had power to overcome my reason, but they did occasion me much tribulation. And not only did I remember those vices which assailed me in times past, but many others which I did never before know entered into my body and did inflame me and cause me the utmost suffering. But because they had no lasting power over me they did afford me great consolation when they began to weaken and leave me. This was the work of the demons into whose hands I perceived I had been de livered, but when I do remember how that God was afflicted here below and in poverty, I would that mine own sufferings might be increased twofold.

At times was I thrown into a most horrible darkness of spirit by the demons, wherein it did appear that all hope of good was withdrawn from me. Then those vices which were dead inwardly in the soul were revived outwardly in the body, both those which I did never before feel and those which I did have aforetimes. And I did suffer so greatly that I was constrained to put actual fire upon my body in order that it might quench the burning of desire ; and this I did continue to do until my confessor forbade me. And when I was in that darkness of spirit methought I would have chosen rather to be roasted than to endure such pains. Wherefore did I cry aloud and call upon death, desiring that it should come in any form whatso ever if only God would permit me to die. And unto God did I say : " Lord, if Thou wilt send me into hell, I pray Thee tarry not, but do it instantly, and since Thou hast abandoned me, make an end of it now and plunge me into the depths." Presently I perceived that this was the work of demons and that such vices exist not in the soul, for never would I have consented thereto. Howsoever, the body doth suffer violence, and so great is the grief and pain that if it should endure the body would not be able to bear it. Moreover, the soul doth find that all its strength hath been taken from it, and albeit it doth in no wise con sent unto vice, yet can it not resist. And seeing that it doth act contrary to the will of God, it loseth all hope of being able to resist and is tormented by those vices.

Among others, God did permit one vice to enter into me the which I had never known before, but I did clearly perceive that it entered into me by Divine permission, and it was so great that it did exceed all the others. Upon the other hand was there given unto me a certain virtue, manifestly wherewith to oppose the aforesaid vice and by means of which God did most potently set me free. Wherefore even if I had not already possessed a sure faith in God, this one thing alone would have inspired me with such a faith and a certain hope, of the which I could in no wise doubt. For virtue did increase and vice did diminish, and I was so upheld by that virtue that I could not consent unto wrong-doing, and likewise by means of that virtue was I so enlightened and strengthened that not all the men who were in the world, nor all the demons, could have persuaded me to commit the smallest sin. Hence proceedeth the aforesaid faith in God. The afore said vice was so great that I am ashamed to speak of it, and of such potency that if the virtue had tarried in coming to succour me, neither shame nor suffering nor any other thing whatsoever would have sufficed to re strain me from instantly falling back into sin. And all this did I bear for the space of more than two years.

Furthermore, beside this, was there a continual con flict betwixt humility and a certain pride, the which did increase in my soul and grievously vex it. The humility was because I did see myself fallen from all goodness and void of all virtue and grace, perceiving in myself such an infinite multitude of sins that I could not believe that God would ever desire to have me for His own. I perceived myself to have become an habitation of demons, their creditor and their child. Likewise methought that I had strayed from the right way and from all truth, and finally that I was worthy of the nethermost depths of hell. It must be known that this humility brought no content ment unto my soul, neither any understanding of divine truth and goodness, but was a certain humble dejection the which was the cause of innumerable evils. For I did per ceive the backsliding of both soul and body, on account of which I did know in my soul that I was surrounded by demons. Then was God hidden from me in all His power and grace, neither could I by any manner of means recall Him unto my mind, because He would not permit it. Thus did I perceive myself to be condemned, but I could not believe that I had been mine own damnation, because I did more grieve and lament for having offended my Creator than for any other thing.

For this reason did I strive with all my members against the demons, that I might overcome the aforesaid vices, but I was not able, neither could I find any remedy or any way whereby I might escape or help myself, so deep did I perceive myself to have fallen. Wherefore was I ofttimes plunged into the abyss of this humility, wherein I did behold my sins and the superabundance of mine iniquities, but I did see no way whereby they might be made manifest and known unto all. And in order that I might make known my dissembling and my sins, it came into my mind to go throughout the cities and open places with meat and with fishes hanging about my neck, and to cry : " This is that woman, full of evil and of dissembling, slave of all vices and iniquities, who did good deeds that she might obtain

honour amongst men ! And especially when I caused it to be told unto those whom I had bidden to mine house that I did eat neither fish nor meat, and when — being the while full of greediness, gluttony, and drunkenness — I did feign to desire naught save what was needful. I did dili gently make an outward show of being poor, but I caused many sheets and coverings to be put there where I lay down to sleep, causing them to be taken up in the morn ing in order that none might see them. Behold, there fore, the devil of my soul and the iniquity of mine heart ; hearken unto a daughter of hypocrisy and pride, a deceiver and an abomination of God who did feign to be a child of prayer. I was given over to pride and to the devil, but I did feign to have God in my soul and His consolation in my chamber, whereas I had the devil alike in my soul and in my chamber. And know ye, that during all the time of my life I have studied how that I might obtain the fame of sanctity, but verily I say unto you that through the iniquity and the hidden dissembling of mine heart have I deceived many, and have been the murderer of many souls, and of mine own soul likewise."

Then, being still sunk in this abyss, I did turn me towards these my brothers (who are called sons), saying : " Henceforth, oh my sons, ye will no longer believe in me ; do ye not see how that I am possessed of the devil ? Pray ye that the justice of God may compel the demons to go forth out of my soul, and that they may make mani fest their most evil works in order that God may be no more dishonoured by me. See ye not that all that which I have told unto you is false ? See ye not that if there were no iniquity whatsoever in the world, I should fill it out of the abundance of mine own iniquity ? Wherefore must ye no longer put faith in me, neither must ye worship this living image ; but pray that the justice of God may cause it to be cast down and broken asunder, so that its devilish works may be made manifest, its lies and its painted and gilded words, the which I did colour over and conceal with divine words in order that I might be adored and honoured as a thing of God. Pray ye finally that the devil may go forth out of this idol, and that by this woman the world may be no longer deceived. And I will pray unto the Son of God (whom I dare not name) that if it pleaseth Him not to show forth my sins Himself, that He will cause the earth to witness unto them by opening and swallowing me up, making of me such an example that men and women will say : " Lo, how was she painted in false colours and a dissembler within and without ! "

At times I had a mind to put a rope about my neck, verily a strong band, and to cause myself to be dragged through the city and the open places, crying : " This is that woman who during all the time of her life hath showed the false in place of the true," and that all persons then should say : " Behold a miracle of God, for He hath caused this woman to reveal her sins of her own self and to declare her iniquities which have heretofore been hidden ! " Yet did this not suffice unto my soul, for I was fallen into a desperation such as had never before been seen in this world, the cause thereof being that I did despair of God and all His benefits by reason of having made conflict betwixt me and them. For which reason, also, was I certain that in the whole world there was no person more full of all manner of wickedness and more worthy of condemnation than was I. And all that which had been given me of God had been granted for the in creasing of my despair and my condemnation. Where fore pray ye unto God that He tarry no longer, for my head is already breaking, my body fainteth, and mine eyes are dimmed because of the abundance of my tears. And lastly, all my members are loosened and can no more give proof of the wickedness of my soul, but I do rejoice that it hath been made manifest in part." And all this did I perceive in mine humility.

Thou must know, however, thou who hast written down these matters, that what thou hast written is but a small thing in comparison with all mine iniquities and mine abuses, for I was yet very young when I did begin to do wrong. These and other like things was I constrained to say when I was sunk in the aforesaid humility.

After this came pride. Then was I filled with wrath and vanity, with melancholy and bitterness, and all puffed up with pride. Thereto was added another bitterness concerning the benefits which God had bestowed upon me, because I remembered no more any good thing of them whatsoever, but only remembered injuries and dolorous grief, marvelling that there had been any virtue whatsoever in me and doubting whether in truth there had ever been any. Neither did I perceive any reason wherefore God should have permitted this, and for this cause was all goodness shut away from me and hidden. The temptation of this thought did make me to be rilled with pride and anger, most bitter sadness and affliction and a grief greater than I can declare, so that if all the wise men of the world and all the saints of paradise had given me every assurance to comfort me and had pro mised me every blessing which could be named, not even they could have done aught for me or rendered me any help, if God had not changed my soul and worked differently within it. Neither should I have believed in them, but all would have worked together to increase mine anger, affliction, sadness, and pain more than I could possibly declare. Wherefore, if God would but have liberated me from these torments and temptations, in lieu thereof would I willingly have suffered every ill and would

have borne all the infirmities and suffering which have ever been known, and verily do I believe that they would have been less hard for me to bear than were the aforesaid torments. Wherefore have I ofttimes said that, if only I might be set free from them, I would gladly have endured every form of martyrdom. This state of torments and temptations did begin some little while before the time of the pontificate of Celestino and did last more than two years, during the which I was ofttimes tormented, nor am

I even yet entirely freed, albeit I do now feel it but seldom, and that only outwardly, not inwardly as hereto fore. But when I am in that state I do perceive that in betwixt that evil humility and that pride there is a great purging and purifying of the soul, by which and through which is acquired that true humility without which none can be saved ; so that the greater the humility, the greater is likewise the purification. Thus came I to know that betwixt those two aforesaid extremes my soul must be burned and martyred, and through the knowledge of mine offences and my sins (which knowledge it did obtain through that same true humility) my soul became purged both of pride and of demons. For the which reason doth it come that the poorer the soul is made and the more pro foundly humiliated, the more doth it abase and purify itself in order that it may be cleansed. And in no other way can a soul be cleansed save by deep humiliation and by being most profoundly implanted and rooted in veritable and true humility. Here endeth the Conversion, Penitence, and Temptation of the Blessed Angela of Foligno.

HOW IT MAY BE KNOWN THAT GOD HATH ENTERED INTO THE SOUL IT must be known that God cometh sometimes unto the soul when it hath neither called, nor prayed unto, nor summoned Him. And He doth instil into the soul a fire and a love and a sweetness not customary, wherein it doth greatly delight and rejoice ; and it doth believe that this hath been wrought by God Himself there present, but this is not certain. Presently the soul doth perceive that God is inwardly within itself, because — albeit it cannot behold Him within — it doth nevertheless perceive that His grace is present with it, wherein it doth greatly de light. Yet is not even this certain. Presently it doth further perceive that God cometh unto it with most sweet words, wherein it delighteth yet more, and with much rejoicing doth it feel God within it ; yet do some doubts still remain, albeit but few. For the soul possesseth as yet no perfect certainty, neither is it assured that God is truly within it, because such converse and such feelings can be produced likewise by other spirits. Wherefore is it still in doubt. And it seemeth unto me that this cometh either of its own malice and sinfulness, or else truly by the will of God, who desireth not that the soul should feel certain and secure. But when the soul doth feel the presence of God more deeply than is customary, then doth it certify unto itself that He is within it.

It doth feel it, I say, with an understanding so marvellous and so profound, and with such great love and divine fire, that it loseth all love for itself and for the body, and it speaketh and knoweth and understandeth those things of the which it hath never heard from any mortal whatso ever. And it understandeth with great illumination, and with much difficulty doth it hold its peace ; and if it doth hold its peace, it holdeth it out of the abundance of its zeal, that it may not be displeasing unto God its Lover nor cause offence, and likewise by reason of its humility ; for it desireth not to speak of things so exceeding high that it may not draw attention unto itself. Thus hath it hap pened divers times unto me, that, out of my burning desire to work the salvation of my neighbour, I did speak things for the which I was reproved, and it was said unto me, " Sister, turn thee again unto the Holy Scriptures, for they say not thus, and therefore do we not understand thee." But with that feeling whereby it is certified unto

the soul that God dwelleth within it, there is given unto it a disposition so perfect that it doth most entirely and verily agree with the soul in all things, and in every way do all the members of the body agree with the soul and do truly form one cause together with it ; neither do they rebel against the will of the soul, but do perfectly desire those things which are of God, but which, nevertheless, they had not heretofore in any way desired. And this disposition is granted unto the soul through grace — whereby it doth perceive that the Divine Being hath entered into it, and hath granted it the assurance and the desire of God and of those things which are of God, after the manner of the true love wherewith God hath loved us. Thus doth the soul feel that God is mingled with it and hath made companionship with it. Further, when God cometh unto the soul, it is some times given unto it to behold Him, and it beholdeth Him devoid of any bodily shape or form, and more clearly than doth one man behold another. For the eyes of the soul do behold a spiritual and not a bodily presence, of the which I am not able to speak because words and imagina tion do fail me. And in very truth the soul doth rejoice in that sight with an ineffable joy and regardeth naught else, because this it is which doth fill it with most inestimable satisfaction. This searching and beholding (whereby God is seen in such a manner that the soul can behold naught else) is so profound that much doth it grieve me that I cannot make manifest aught whatsoever

of it, seeing that it is not a thing the which can be touched or imagined or judged of. Moreover, the soul doth know in many other ways that God hath without doubt entered into it, of the which ways I will now speak of two. One is an holy unction which doth so instantly revive the soul, make meek all the members of the body, and cause them to agree together with the soul, that they cannot be touched or offended by anything whatsoever the which could even in the smallest degree agitate the soul. Therefore doth it feel and hear that God speaketh within it, and by means of this great and in all ways unspeakable unction the soul doth under stand with the utmost certainty that God is within it, because no saint nor any angel in Paradise would have power to grant this. But seeing how that it is a thing the which cannot be expressed, it grieveth me that I can find no words wherewith to describe it in comparison of that which it truly is. Wherefore I pray God that He will pardon me, for this is not of mine own will, and if I were able and if it were pleasing unto God, I would make mani fest somewhat of His goodness.

The other way whereby the soul knoweth that God is within it is by an embrace which He doth give unto the soul. There is neither father, nor mother, nor son, nor any other person whatsoever who can embrace the object beloved with so great a love as that wherewith God embraceth the soul. For He doth embrace it with such love and draw it unto Himself with such sweetness and gentle- ness that methinketh there is not a man in the world who can declare it, nor express it, nor believe it unless he hath himself experienced it ; and although he might perchance divine somewhat of this love, yet could he not possibly know it as it truly is. Of a surety, God doth implant most sweet love in the soul, the which doth make it burn for Christ alone. And it beareth with it so great a light (whereby it understandeth the fulness of the goodness of God which it experienceth within itself) that it hath understanding of much more than it feeleth within itself. Then hath it the assurance and certitude that Christ dwelleth within it ; but all that we can say is as nothing in comparison with that which it really is. Then the soul hath no more tears, whether of joy or of sorrow or of any other kind, seeing that when the soul hath tears it is in a lower state. For God poureth into the soul an ex ceeding great sweetness, in a measure so abundant that it can ask nothing more — yea, verily, it would be in Paradise if this should endure, its joy being so great that it filleth the whole body ; and all injury which the soul suffereth, whether by deeds or words, is esteemed as naught and is turned into sweetness.

Because of this change in my body, therefore, I was not always able to conceal my state from my companion or from the other persons with whom I did consort, because at times my countenance was all resplendent and rosy and mine eyes shone like unto candles, and at other times I was pale as death, according as the visions did vary. My joy did endure for many days, and some joys have I the which I do think I shall never lose, for I hold them to be full and perfect, nor am I now without them. Wherefore, when sadness cometh upon me, I do instantly bethink me of those joys and am in no ways distressed. There are so many other ways whereby the soul knoweth that God dwelleth within it that I can by no manner of means relate them. Through the aforesaid things and ways the soul doth know that God hath entered into it, but it hath not yet been told in what manner it doth lodge Him there. And all that hath been said is much less than was said when the soul did lodge the Pilgrim, who is God, because now hath it come to so full an understanding of the divine goodness and infinitude that when I do reflect within myself, I do sometimes perceive most clearly that those persons who do best know God (Who is infinite and unspeakable) are those who do the least presume to speak of Him, considering that all which they do say of Him, or can possibly say, is as nothing compared with what He truly is.

Wherefore, if any preacher did verily understand divine things (as I have sometimes heard them declare they do) they would not be able to speak of them, neither would they presume to say aught whatsoever of God, but would remain silent and dumb. And because God is so much greater than the mind and all other things, we are not able by any means whatsoever to measure, nor speak, nor think of Him, see ing that His goodness cannot perfectly be explained. This

doth not happen because the soul hath lost all bodily sense, or hath cast off the body itself, but because it understandeth without the aid of the senses. Wherefore, when man perceiveth these things with his understanding he falleth into so great an amazement that (in so far as it may be expressed in bodily words) if some preacher were in this state and it behoved him to speak of God, however worthy and able he might be, he would say unto the people, " Get ye gone, for I know not how to speak unto you of God." Wherefore do I believe and declare that all that which hath been said either in writing or by the mouths of men since ever the world began hath in no wise described the true nature of the divine goodness, but is as the half of a millet seed compared with the whole world. But when the soul is assured of God and is refreshed by His presence, the body doth likewise receive health and satisfaction and nobility, and is refreshed together with the soul, albeit in a less degree. Then do reason and the soul, thus refreshed, speak unto the body and unto the senses, saying : " Behold how great are the benefits God hath bestowed upon thee through me, and bethink thee how infinitely greater are those which have been promised and will be faithfully paid if thou wilt only follow me. Consider likewise how many and how great benefits we have already lost, thou and I, because thou hast not con formed unto me, but hast gone contrary unto me. Where fore must thou in future be in all ways obedient unto the things of God." And immediately the body doth submit

itself unto the soul and the senses unto reason, and per ceiving how that it shareth in the delights of the soul it maketh answer thus : " My delights have heretofore been bodily and vile, because I am a body ; but thou who wert of great nobility and able to enjoy divine delights, thou shouldst not have yielded unto me, causing us both to lose such great benefits." Thus doth the body lament against the soul, and the senses against reason, with a long but most sweet lamentation, and perceiving the delights of the soul to be greater than it had imagined, it doth render obedience in all things.

THERE are divers ways whereby spiritual persons may be deceived. One way, and the chief one, is when the love within the soul is not pure, but is mingled with a love which is personal and selfish — that is to say, with man's own will. Then hath he certainly somewhat of the love of the world, and the world flattereth him and praiseth him. But all worldly flattery and praise on account of devotion is false, and the person whom the world doth single out and praise seemeth to be more fervent in devotion, and his tears flow more abundantly, and that sweetness and fear and trembling are increased which do come in spiritual love which is not pure. And these things are not done inwardly in the soul but outwardly in the body, neither doth pure love enter into the soul, wherefore the sweetness speedily fadeth and the man forgetteth himself ; yea, he ofttimes turneth to bitterness. All these things have I proved within mine own self, and I should not be able to discern these aforesaid things save that mine own soul hath attained unto the certain know ledge of truth. For when love is pure it doth in all ways deem itself dead unto the senses ; and it doth consider itself as nothing and it doth die in God and putrefy, and it doth reverence God and humble itself, neither doth it remember how that it was praised nor its own good.

Yea, it doth find itself so downcast and so full of evil that it doth not believe it can be entirely saved by any saint whatsoever, only by God alone. Yet it doth ofttimes more readily pray for assistance unto the saints rather than unto God, not daring because of its unworthiness to pray unto God Himself, albeit it imploreth help from the Holy Virgin and all the other saints. And when it is praised by any person it deemeth such praise to be a mockery and a jest. And this love is pure and cometh direct from God and is implanted within the soul, to whom hath been thereby revealed its own defects and God's goodness. Wherefore the tears which are now shed and the sweetness which is enjoyed do never occasion bitterness, but assurance and sweetness ; and through this aforesaid love doth Christ enter into the soul, and the soul

doth thereby know that it can suffer no deception nor yet deceive itself. The other way wherein God permitteth spiritual persons to be deceived is this. When the spiritual and devout person feeleth himself to be greatly beloved of God and hath spiritual gifts and the works thereof, and doth openly speak of them, because he is too sure of himself and hath exceeded the right manner, God doth permit him to be in some way deceived in order that he may thereby learn better to know both God and himself. Another way is when the spiritual man feeleth God to be very near and is filled with a perfect, pure, and ex cellent love ; when every day he doth most heartily per form good works and hath determined that he will in no wise seek more to please the world, or to gain the fame of sanctity, but in all things to please Christ and submit himself entirely unto Him. Nevertheless the soul must needs learn to keep that which is its own and to render unto God the things which are God's ; and if it faileth to do this then God permitteth deception in order to pre serve it, and, because it is precious in His sight, that it should not overstep its proper limits. Moreover, the soul is not content with what hath been said, until God leadeth it unto the knowledge of Himself and the full under standing of His goodness — wherefore can there be no de ception here, for the soul is so completely instructed of the truth that it doth deem itself to be as full as possible. It is first filled with the knowledge of God Himself, so that

it can neither see nor remember aught else, and thereafter it cometh immediately to the understanding of His divine goodness. Then doth it see the one and the other to gether in a way the which cannot be described, but since even this sufficeth not, God doth excite it to yet greater zeal and permitteth tribulations. But the sentiment wherein He doth not permit the soul to be deceived is poverty of spirit, and verily, I have heard poverty of spirit so much commended in the divine words of God (and with such great and good proofs thereof) that it doth in all ways surpass our understanding. Verily, God spake thus unto me : " If poverty had not been a most noble thing (said God) I myself would not have assumed it." Certain it is that pride can only exist in those who do possess something, or who believe themselves to have something. For this reason, because they did believe themselves to be possessed of something, came the pride and the fall of the first man and the angel ; neither the angel nor the man did possess anything in themselves of themselves, for God alone hath this, and humility is found alone in those who are poor and who are persuaded that they do possess nothing. Wherefore is poverty a most excellent thing, and God Himself did cause His dearly beloved Son to be more poor than any man ever was before or will be hereafter ; and albeit He is greater than can be declared, yet did God nevertheless make Him as poor as though He were naught. And unto sinners and mortal men in whom was no true light this thing did seem

foolishness, but unto the wise and unto men of under standing it did seem just the contrary. For whosoever hath poverty can never be ruined, neither can he fall through deception, and if any person were truly to per ceive the benefits of poverty he would love God, and if he were but to consider the immeasurable value of it he would no longer be able to keep any worldly possessions, and whosoever were to see how greatly God loveth true poverty, would retain nothing for himself. The proof of this is the proof of divine wisdom, which first maketh us to see our faults and believe ourselves poor in all merit and goodness, and thus honestly to esteem ourselves for what we really are. And in consequence we do make ourselves poor and do love that same poverty, and those who love it are enlightened by the gift of grace (which is given unto those who do perceive the benefits of poverty). Then doth it make us to see the divine goodness in order that we may all love God, and whosoever loveth doth esteem himself as possessing nothing. And as a man loveth so doth he work, and thus doth he lose all confidence in him self and trusteth in God alone ; wherefore, because he confideth himself entirely unto God, he is enlightened by God Himself and all doubts fall away from him. Whoso ever knoweth this truth cannot be deceived either by demons or by any other thing whatsoever, because in this poverty of spirit the soul receiveth a clear and perfect comprehension and hath a most enlightened understand ing of all the matters of this life, so that it can never be

deceived the whiles it doth possess this truth. Wherefore do I know that poverty is the mother of all virtues and the revelation of the divine wisdom. For seeing how that the divine wisdom hath by the Incarnation taught us mortals to be blessed, it hath taught us more by poverty of spirit. Wherefore is all the wisdom of this world nothing worth if it hath not this truth in it, but turneth unto damnation ; and thus likewise are all the wise men nothing whatsoever if this truth is not in them, but they fall into damnation. Finally, it must be understood that when the soul knoweth not this truth it worketh with the spirit of vainglory and the hope of reward.

THE soul, therefore, heareth and understandeth only those matters into the inner meaning of which it can penetrate. For when the soul is illumined by the pre sence of God and doth repose in God's bosom and God in it, then is it exalted above itself and heareth and rejoiceth and doth rest in that divine goodness, concerning which none can report because it is above all intelligence and all manner of speech and above all words. But herein doth the soul swim in joyfulness and in knowledge, and, thus enlightened, it comprehendeth the meaning of all the difficult and obscure sayings of Christ. It doth likewise comprehend how and wherefore in the soul of Christ there existed suffering without any relief whatsoever. For which reason mine own soul (the which was illumined, as hath been already said, and wholly absorbed in the Passion of Christ) did likewise experience such great suffering that here, neither, was there any relief. When, therefore, it remembered the suffering of Christ's soul, it could find nowhere any more joy, which doth not happen when it remembereth the passion of the body, because then grief is followed by joy. It understandeth these reasonings by virtue of its aforesaid exaltation ; it understandeth, more over, that the sufferings in Christ's soul were sharp even while He was yet in His mother's womb, as sharp as were afterwards His sufferings upon the Cross, saving only that as yet He had had no experience thereof. Through the judgments and the unspeakable things of God doth the soul further understand that by the presence of God it is exalted even unto Himself.

Ofttimes doth God work within the soul in many mar vellous ways, which none save He alone could perform. Sometimes the soul is suddenly exalted unto God with such joy that, if it were to endure, I do think that the body would not be able to bear it, but would lose all its members and its sensation. God doth ofttimes treat thus with the soul and in the soul, and when the soul desireth to hold Him fast He doth instantly depart. There remaineth, nevertheless, great joy and assurance in the soul, verily such great joy that it doth in no wise doubt that God is yet present, but there is naught which I can liken unto that seeing and hearing, nor am I able to describe it. These revelations, however, and exaltations and delights, or joys, do not always happen after the same manner, but in divers ways and almost always accompanied with some new thing ; yet none of them can be described. The revelations and visions are at one time thus and different at another time ; so is likewise the delight, the joyfulness, and the happiness. Of all this I can say no more — in truth, were I to speak of them, by reason of mine unworthiness it would be speaking ill, spoiling, faultily de scribing, yea, even reviling them rather than making them manifest as I should. I am blinded and darkened in spirit and without truth ; wherefore, oh my sons, hearken unto my words with suspicion as unto the words of an evil person, and take ye good heed of everything, neither believe ye in any saying of mine save those which are like unto the sayings of Jesus Christ, and which do work inwardly and lead unto the imitation of Him.

For the present, oh my sons, I take no delight in writing, but do continually bewail my sins and their redemption, the which was effected through the Passion of Christ the Immaculate ; yet am I constrained to write unto you because of the letters which ye send unto me. Wherefore do I now write unto you that which is newly impressed upon mine heart. Ye must know, therefore, oh my sons, that there is only one thing necessary unto us, which is God, to find God and wholly fix our minds upon Him. This is necessary unto us. But in order that our minds may be the better fixed upon God it is needful that we should cast off all perverse and useless habits, all super fluous familiarity with men and women of whatsoever nature, all superfluous knowledge and the desire to hear many new things, all superfluous labours and occupations. And, briefly, it is needful that man should put away from him all things which do distract his mind. Then must he instantly plunge into the abyss of his wretchedness and bethink him what things he hath done in times past, what he is doing in the present, and what he will do in the future, and how that his fate in the next world will be according unto his deserts. Then cometh death, which will be unto all eternity. And no day and no night must pass wherein he doth not think upon these things. Wherefore must he constantly think and meditate and use all his endeavour to comprehend the mercy of God, how that He did most mercifully ordain that Christ Jesus should suffer all this wretchedness with him, and he must take heed that he never forgetteth this great benefit.

HOW THAT OUR PERFECTION DOTH CONSIST IN KNOWING OUR OWN WRETCHEDNESS AND GOD'S MERCY OUR perfection doth certainly consist in knowing God and ourselves ; there is nothing in the whole world whereof I do still delight to write or speak save these two things, namely, the knowledge of God and of ourselves. For this must a man lie ever within the prison of his own self ; and if he obtaineth no profit from this, he must seek another prison. Oh my beloved sons, every vision, every revelation, all sweetness and emotion, all knowledge, all contemplation availeth nothing if man knoweth not God and himself ; for which reason I tell ye truly that without this know ledge all those other things will profit you nothing what soever. Wherefore do I marvel that ye desire to have letters from me ; I perceive not in what manner my words can bring you comfort, seeing that I write of naught else save of this knowledge, for I take no more delight in speaking of other things — yea, I have even imposed upon myself silence concerning any other matters. I do be seech you, therefore, that ye pray unto God that He will grant this light unto all generations and that it may remain unto you for ever.

That the knowledge of God is necessary unto us can be proved and made manifest, because that which we strive after is the Kingdom of Heaven. And since we cannot nor ever should strive after it save in the same manner in which the Son of God did attain unto it, it is necessary to know the Son of God and His life and works and those things for the which He did obtain grace, in order that through the imitation of His works and the transforming of ourselves in Him, we may finally follow Him by virtue of His merits and grace, and with Him possess the King dom of Heaven. I say unto you that before all things it is necessary to know Christ, how that He was crucified for us and did suffer the Passion, thereby pointing out unto us the right way of life. For herein hath His infinite charity and His inestimable love been revealed unto us more clearly than in any other of the benefits He hath conferred upon us. For this reason, therefore, and in order that we may not be ungrateful, it is necessary that we should transform ourselves in His love, that is, that we should love Him as He hath loved us, and should love our neighbours ; and likewise that we should lament for the Passion of this our Beloved, seeing how that He was crucified for love of us. Considering, moreover, how many things God hath done for us (and especially for our redemption), we are required, led, and instructed to re flect upon our condition ; that is to say, to reflect that our condition is most noble, being so beloved of the most high God that He was willing to die for our sake, which He would not have done if man had not been a most noble creature and of great worth. We are further required by

this consideration of Christ crucified to work out our own salvation ; for God Himself, so exalted (and so far removed and strange unto us), did use such diligence in obtaining our redemption and salvation that it is our bounden duty to take heed for ourselves and our salvation and to further the will of God, showing penitence for our sins. The knowledge, therefore, doth afford us infinite profit in many ways, but chiefly in that we are saved through His Passion and are filled with His great love.

THE NECESSITY OF A CONSTANT CONSIDERATION AND PROFOUND KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST CRUCIFIED A CONSTANT consideration and a profound knowledge of Christ crucified are here necessary, for as we behold so do we love, and the more we do behold of the Son of God, Jesus Christ the Crucified, the more perfectly and purely do we love Him and for love do become one with Him. And according as we do become one with Him through love, so do we likewise share in the sufferings which the soul witnesseth in God, the Man of Sorrows. And seeing that we do love according as we see and know, so doth the soul lament according as it beholdeth the sufferings of its Beloved, and doth suffer with His suffer ing. Likewise, the more intimately any person knoweth this Man of Sorrows, the more doth he love Him and suffer with His sufferings, and through grief is made one with Him whom he loveth. And as the soul is made one with this most sweet Christ through love, so is it likewise united with Him through suffering ; and all this cometh about through perfect vision and the knowledge of God and of ourselves. In truth, moreover, since the soul beholdeth the infinitude of the divine majesty (of the which I will not speak for fear I should rather disgrace it than speak of it worthily), and since it beholdeth, upon the other hand, the vileness and great unworthiness of sin ners (whose friend and kinsman the most sublime God hath deigned to be, and for their sake, moreover, hath borne the most shameful death), it doth sincerely trans form itself in the love of the Son of God, Jesus Christ ;

and the more it knoweth and doth profoundly and in wardly consider and behold Him, the more doth it then enter into His love. When it further beholdeth the sinners and the creature full of faults, it perceiveth and discerneth that these faults are so numerous that its com prehension of them is as nothing in comparison with their number. When, however, being illumined by the divine light, the soul recogniseth that it hath itself been the only cause of such great and sublime suffering as Christ Jesus did bear for its sake, and reflecteth upon the infinitude of the divine goodness which for the sake of so vile a creature did so abase itself that it became mortal man and was tormented with great and immeasurable suffering — and this not only once, but continually the

while He did live — and how in the end He who was the Creator of heaven and earth was willing to die a shameful death, when the soul perceiveth and understandeth this it is itself overwhelmed with grief — and the more clearly it doth perceive, and the more profoundly it doth con sider, the more is it moved unto yet greater grief. More deeply moved yet is the soul when it perceiveth how, by reason of his sins, miserable man is deprived of all good things and benefits, that he hath merited eternal suffering, and is despised and derided of that sublime Divinity, and of the angels and demons and of all crea tures, and that, in order to raise man up again from out of this adverse poverty, the most high God, Christ Jesus, the most rich in all things, did make Himself poor for our sake ; how He, the most beatific and most joyful, did make Himself most wretched in order that through His infinite suffering He might redeem man and save him from everlasting and unspeakable pain. The soul doth perceive, moreover, how the God of Glory, worthy above all things to be praised, did make Himself obedient and humble, willing to be despised, mocked at and reviled, seemingly of no account and thus reputed, and He did this in order that despised man might thereby be made glorious and honourable. When the soul doth well con sider and more clearly perceive these things, the more doth it incline itself unto Him and suffer with His suffer ing. For the more clearly the soul doth know God and His exaltedness, His mercy and infinite goodness and

worthiness (which things it maketh known unto man and proveth them by means of their effect), and the more clearly it beholdeth the wretchedness of man, his faults, his unworthiness, his ingratitude, infirmities, and vileness, the more deeply is it moved towards the love of Christ and the grief of His Passion, and is transformed into the likeness thereof, wherein consisteth all the perfection of man. It hath thus been made clear, therefore, that the knowledge of God and of ourselves is absolutely necessary and above all other things profitable. Wherefore must we constantly dwell upon such knowledge, day and night, and the more profound man's contemplation of the afore said things, the more perfectly can he transform himself into the likeness of Christ, both in sorrow and in love, as hath already been said.

HOW ALL THE WAYS OF THE PASSION MUST BE DIGESTED WITHIN THE HEART, OR AT LEAST BE REPEATED BY MY beloved son, I do entreat thee, and with all mine heart do supplicate thee, that thou turn not away the eyes of thy soul from gazing upon this God, this Man of Sorrows. For this sight and this consideration do enlighten the soul and inflame it with love and the fervour of devotion, keeping it there fixed. And if thine eyes should stray, do thou use all thine endeavour to bring them back and hold them there with good attention. Further do I exhort and pray thee that, if thy mind be not exalted to behold the Man of Sorrows, thou do inquire and meditate upon all the ways of the Passion and the Cross. And even if thou art not able to do this with thine heart, at least with thy mouth shalt thou earnestly and diligently repeat those things which belong unto the said Passion, because when a thing is ofttimes spoken with the mouth it doth in the end impart warmth and fervour unto the heart. If any person were perfectly to behold this One, so often called the Man of Sorrows, as He truly was, and were to consider how He became most poor and despised, and upon every side filled with unspeakable and unceasing pain and grief, consumed and cast down for our sake (which beholding cometh only of grace), he would assuredly follow after Christ, and cheerfully bear alike poverty, scorn, reviling, and unceasing pain.

None can excuse themselves for not having found and obtained divine mercy, for the Lord is generous and doth most abundantly give it unto all who do seek and desire it. I desire, oh my son, that thou fill thine heart with naught else save with God uncreated and the knowledge and love of Him, and that naught else be found therein save God uncreated. Nevertheless, if thou canst not have this, do thou hold fast to the love and knowledge of Christ crucified, and if this should be taken from thee, then rest thou not, oh my son, until thou hast verily filled thine heart with one of these two things, which do entirely fill and satisfy both heart and mind. Wherefore, my son, do thou hold fixedly unto me and believe my words concerning that which is needful unto him who would follow the way of God, and draw nigh unto God and enjoy His benefits in this world and the next. Before all things it is necessary that he should know God in very truth, and not only outwardly and superficially, as though it were through the colour of writing, or the sound of words, or the likeness of some creature ; which manner of knowing Him, according to the common way of speech, is assuredly a simple knowledge of God. But man must know Him in very truth ; he must understand His supreme worthiness, His supreme beauty, sweetness, exaltedness, virtue, goodness, liberality, mercy, and pity, and he must understand that God is the supreme good and highest of all.

True it is that these things are under stood of a wise person otherwise than of a simple person, for the wise doth verily understand the matter as it is, whereas the simple understandeth it only as it doth appear outwardly. It is like unto a precious stone which hath been found and which the wise and the simple do covet in different ways. The simple man knoweth not its virtue and desireth to possess it only for its beauty and its brightness, and for no other reason ; but beyond the splendour and the brightness of the precious stone, the wise man knoweth its virtue and its worth, and when he

hath, found it he loveth it with the utmost intelligence and fervour. In like manner doth the wise soul seek to know God, not only according to the outward appear ance and with only careless reflection, but using all its endeavour to know Him in very truth, to taste of His supreme goodness and to know His worth. For not only is He good, but He is the Supreme Good — and knowing Him, man doth in all ways love Him for His goodness — and loving Him, seeketh to possess Him — and He, who is supremely good, giveth Himself unto the lover, and the soul feeleth Him and tasteth of His sweetness and enjoyeth that greatest of all delights. Then doth the soul participate in that supreme good, the which is supreme love ; it entereth into it with affection, and being enamoured of the love of its Beloved, it desireth to hold Him fast, wherefore it embraceth Him and presseth Him unto itself ; it uniteth itself with God and draweth Him unto itself with the utmost sweetness of love. Then, by the virtue of love, is the lover transformed in the beloved and the beloved is transformed in the lover, and like unto hard iron which so assumeth the colour, heat, virtue, and form of the fire that it almost turneth into fire, so doth the soul, united with God through the perfect grace of divine love, itself almost become divine and transformed in God. Nevertheless, it changeth not its own substance, but its whole life is transformed in the love of God, and thus doth it almost become divine in itself.

Behold, how greatly it doth profit us to possess a know- ledge of God. And truly is it needful, as hath been said, that man must know God before he can walk in His ways and desire to possess Him. Thereafter cometh love, which doth transform the lover in the beloved, and of this nature is the soul who knoweth God in very truth, and fervently loveth Him whom it knoweth so well.

HOW THE SOUL MAY SPEEDILY AND EASILY FIND GOD BY YE must know, however, that the soul cannot obtain this knowledge of its own power, neither by writings, nor learning, nor by any created thing — albeit it may use and profit by them — but solely by divine grace and the light thereof. Wherefore do I hold that the soul cannot find it more speedily nor implore it and obtain it more easily from the most high God, perfect Good, perfect Light, and perfect Love, than by devout, pure, constant, humble, and fervent prayer, and that uttered not only with the mouth alone, but with the mind and heart and all the strength of the soul and the feelings of the body, asking and im ploring with most ardent desire. It followeth, then, that the soul who desireth to find this full and true know ledge and light of God must offer its own prayers, read- ing, meditating, and studying continually in the Book of Life, which Book is the whole life of Christ during the time that He did live this mortal life. God the Father, dearly beloved, hath shown and set forth unto the soul the form, manner, and way, whereby it may obtain the knowledge of God Himself through love. God the Father, most high, wise and all knowing, hath given us His beloved Son as a sign and as ensample. Wherefore, my dear children, if ye are eager for the light of divine grace, if ye will free your hearts from all cares, if ye will escape all hurtful temptations, if ye will perfect yourselves in the way of God and set your feet verily upon this way, then haste ye to fly unto the Cross of Christ, for verily there is no other way reserved unto the sons of God whereby they may find God, and, having found Him, keep Him, save the way of the life and death of Christ crucified.

This do I hold to be the Book of Life, unto the reading of which (as I have already said), none can attain save by continual prayer. For continual prayer doth illumine, exalt, and transform the soul, and illumined by that light and uplifted by prayer, it doth clearly be hold the way prepared for it and trodden already by the feet of the Crucified. Thus walking upon this way with an awakened heart, not only do we escape from the heavy cares of this world, but we are uplifted above ourselves and do taste of the divine sweetness — and being thus up lifted we are kindled with divine fire, and, burning with love, we are made one with God, And all this cometh of

gazing upon the Cross through the medium of continual prayer. Wherefore, my beloved son, haste thee unto this Cross and pray that He who died upon it for thy sake will so enlighten thee that thou mayst fully know both Him and thyself, and that, profoundly knowing thine own faults, thou mayest raise thyself unto the divine sweetness, rising from a love of thy faults unto the divine mercy and cast ing away all falseness. For seeing how that the incom prehensible and incomparable God hath adopted thee, who are so full of sin, and hath elected thee to be His son, deigning to be thy Father, thou shalt not show thyself un grateful, but thou shalt study how in all ways to obey the commands of so marvellous and loving a Father. For if the Father's will is not fulfilled in His lawful sons, how shall it be fulfilled in the unlawful ? Unlawful sons are they who, by reason of the evil desires of the flesh, do break loose from the discipline of the Father, and lawful sons are they who, by reason of their ardent love, do endeavour to follow their Master in poverty, suffering, and disgrace. And these three things, my beloved sons, must ye know and take for the foundation and completion of all perfection, because through these three things is the soul illumined, purged, and perfected, and made ready for the divine transformation.

I do repeat, therefore, that all the perfection of man and the knowledge of God and of himself — that is to say, the understanding of the immensity of God in all per- faction and goodness, and of his own nothingness — this manifestation and knowledge of God and of himself is only granted unto the lawful sons of God, who do pray truly, and fervently do read and meditate in the Book of Life. Unto these true sons doth God the Father open and present the Book of Life, which is the life of Jesus Christ, God and Man, within which Book they will find all things that they can possibly desire to know. Herein can they learn of the blessed wisdom of God which maketh not proud, and herein will they find set forth all doctrine needful for themselves or for others. If thou dost desire, therefore, to be well enlightened and instructed, read this Book of Life, and if thou goest slowly and dost not read lightly nor pass things over, thou wilt be enlightened and instructed in all things necessary for thyself and for others according to their condition. And if thou dost carefully read and meditate, using no haste, thou wilt be kindled and consumed by the divine fire in such a degree that thou wilt hold all tribulation to be the greatest consola tion, and wilt deem thyself to be utterly unworthy of suffering tribulation. And what is more, if any human praise or prosperity should come unto thee through some talent which God hath bestowed upon thee, thou shalt not be puffed up with pride nor raise thyself on high, for if thou readest the Book of Life thou wilt see therein and verily comprehend that this thing cometh not of thine own merit. This is one of the signs whereby man may know that he hath the grace of God, that he groweth not

puffed up or haughty whatsoever may happen, but remaineth ever humble. Ye see then, my son, how before all things ye must endeavour to attain unto a veritable knowledge of God and of thyself, which knowledge is not attained save through constant and fervent prayer and diligently read ing in the Book of Life. Amen.

OF THE BOOK OF LIFE, WHICH IS CHRIST, WHEREIN MAN LEARNETH TO KNOW GOD AND MAN, HIMSELF, AND ALL THINGS NEEDFUL FOR MAN'S WELFARE YE must know, therefore, that this Book of Life is naught else save Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who is the In carnate Word and the Wisdom of the Father, and He appeared amongst us in order that we might be in structed by means of His life, His death, and His teach ing. For which reason it behoveth us to see what was the manner of life and conversation which He did practise whiles He did dwell within this mortal body. His life is an ensample and a pattern for every mortal who desireth to be saved. But His life was naught save a most bitter penance, which did ever accompany Him throughout His mortal life, so that from the hour wherein the soul of Christ was created and placed in His most holy body within the womb of the Virgin undefiled, until that last most holy hour wherein His soul departed from His body by cruel death upon the Cross, He was never without this companionship of penance. But it was not thus with the other saints, nor with the apostles nor the Blessed Virgin.

The companions which God the Father in the Highest did in His most wise dispensation give unto His Beloved Son in this world were these. Firstly, the most perfect, complete, and continual poverty ; secondly, the most perfect, complete, and continual contempt ; thirdly, the utmost suffering. These were the companions who did accompany Christ during the whole of His life in order to furnish an ensample unto us, that we may choose, love and endure these same companions until we die. For this is the way whereby the soul must reach unto God, and other direct road is there none. Needful is it, there fore, and seemly that the members of the body should follow the same road which had been taken by the head, and that the same companions which had accompanied the head should likewise accompany the members.

THE first companion of Jesus Christ, the Book of Life and our salvation, was, therefore, constant, supreme, and per fect poverty. This poverty was of three degrees : one was great, the second was yet greater and was joined with the first, but the third kind, joined with the first and the second, made up the most perfect poverty. The first degree of this perfect poverty of Christ, who is the Book, the Way, and the Leader of the soul, was that He deigned to be poor in all the temporal things of this world. Thus did He own neither land, nor vineyard, nor garden, nor other possessions ; He had neither gold, nor silver, nor money whatsoever, nor any other thing of His own, neither would He consent to accept of the things of this world aught save what did suffice to succour Him in the depths of His great poverty and supply the needs of His body, that is to say, hunger, thirst, and want, cold and heat, great weariness, austerity and hardship. Yet of bodily necessaries would He accept naught that was delicate or pleasant to the taste, but only coarse and common food such as was found in those places and provinces wherein Christ did live as liveth a beggar, without house or habitation.

The second degree of Christ's poverty was greater than the first, seeing that He did desire to be poor in friends and kindred and in all familiarity with the great and powerful, and finally in all worldly friendship. Where fore did He not possess, nor desire to possess, any friend whatsoever of His own, nor yet of His mother or His putative father Joseph, or His disciples. For this reason did none hesitate to kick Him, strike Him, and scourge Him, and to speak hurtful words unto Him. And He deigned to be born of a poor and humble mother and to be brought up subject unto a poor carpenter, His putative father. He did likewise deprive Himself of the love and familiar intercourse of kings and rulers, of priests and scribes, and of the love of friends and kindred — so that neither for Hrs mother's sake, nor for any other person, would He leave undone aught the which could be pleasing unto His Almighty Father or according unto His will. Amen.

THE third and supreme degree of poverty was that He did put away from Him His own nature. Firstly, be cause He made Himself poor and needy, laying aside His own power, He, the Omnipotent, unto whom naught was impossible, desired to appear and to live in the world as a man, weak, infirm, and impotent, in order that beside the human miseries, the helpless childhood and other burdens which He did take upon Himself for our sake, He who was without blame or sin might appear as but a feeble man. Verily He endured much weariness in His journeyings, visitations, and disgrace. And what is more, not only did sinful man rise up against Him, but even the elements and senseless bodies received power from their Creator to cause Him suffering and affliction, and, as though He had no power to resist, He endured all for our sake. He gave power unto the sharp thorns to enter and most cruelly wound His divine and trembling head ; He empowered the bonds and bitter cords to bind Him fast unto the pillar and tie His hands together ; He whose death awoke the thunder and shook the earth, He who was the true and perfect Light, the Light which illumined all things, gave power unto the veil to hide Him, and unto the scourges that they should long and cruelly beat Him ; He gave unto the hard nails power to pierce and enter His tender feet and the hands wherewith He had given light unto the blind and hearing unto the deaf ;

He empowered the lofty Cross that it should bear Him on high, His body scourged and bleeding and pierced as He hung there, and that it should show Him naked unto all. And in order that He might suffer the most cruel and ignominious death, He caused the vinegar and hyssop to make bitter His mouth ; He caused (oh, marvellous to hear !) the lance to enter and pierce through His divine side and heart, so that blood and water issued from out His heart and body and fell upon the earth. Moreover, He did give unto the soldiers who crucified Him, unto the Jews and unto Pilate and others yet worse, the power to judge, accuse, revile, and insult Him, to beat, mock at, and finally to put Him to death, He who with a single word could have prevented all things. With a single sign of His head He could have overthrown and destroyed them all ; if He had but given command unto His angel, an infinite multitude of the heavenly

host would have come down, and would in an instant have cast all things into the depths of the sea. If He had not verily granted them the power and had not shown Himself as being helpless and weak, there is no manner of doubt that no single creature would have been able to do hurt unto its Creator, yea, it would have abhorred such a deed. A yet greater thing was it that He did submit Himself unto the elements, unto cold and heat, hunger and thirst, and other insensible creatures, concealing His power and despoiling Himself thereof in the likeness of man, in order that He might teach us weak and wretched mortals with what patience we ought to bear tribulation. He de prived Himself of power in order that He might save man, and by the glory of the resurrection did He make him strong to resist and to endure. A thing even greater still was, that He did give the devil power over Him that He might be tempted and led into danger and persecuted even unto death, in order that He might thereby liberate man from the devil's power. Thus did the invincible Lord of all become a sufferer ; the Creator of all things became impotent ; the strong King became weak. Neither did He oppose the devil, but became subject unto him, to all insensible creatures, to tribulation, injury, and pain, to all manner of grief and affliction, thereby putting to confusion us miserable wretches, who do esteem ourselves so tender that not

only do we refuse all voluntary tribulation and penitence but as often as we can we do put away from us those tribu lations and afflictions which are sent unto us by divine command, murmuring against God most iniquitously.

HOW CHRIST LAID ASIDE HIS WISDOM AND HIS OWN NATURE SECONDLY, He did lay aside His own nature, making Himself poor in wisdom because He desired to appear as a simple man, one senseless and vain in the sight of men. He appeared not as a philosopher or a doctor of many words, or as one who disputeth noisily, nor yet as a scribe renowned for wisdom and learning ; but in the utmost simplicity did He talk with men, showing unto them the way of truth in His life, His virtues, and His miracles. Seeing how that He is the Wisdom of the Father, the Creator and Inspirer of all learning, He might have used all the subtilty of knowledge and of argument, and, had He desired, He might have shown forth His wit and obtained glory ; but with such simplicity did He declare the truth that He was esteemed of almost all people to be not only simple and foolish, but even ignorant and vain. Herein did He show unto us the way of truth, that is to say, that neither in learning nor in wisdom should we take glory unto ourselves, for being puffed up with this pride

we seek to obtain the name of master before men and to cover ourselves with vainglory. Thirdly, He did lay aside His own nature in that He did make Himself poor of the fame of His holiness, good ness, and innocence. Which thing is exceeding marvellous, because He did so walk in the way of justice that not only did very few persons esteem Him holy, but He was held to be a sinner and the friend of sinners, a destroyer, seducer, and conspirator against His country, and albeit He was working out our salvation upon earth, He was reputed and condemned as a blasphemer and numbered amongst thieves and evil-doers. He might have revealed Himself in all the fame of holiness, so that He would have been universally held to be the greatest of all saints and one in whom there was no sin ; but He did choose to take upon Himself the sins of us all and the fame of holiness did He give unto His servant John. He who was the chief of all saints, and king of all virtues, in whom was united all goodness, He did this thing, and did deign to put away from Him all His fame of holiness (saving only the truth of His teaching, life, and judgment), and to become poor in order that He might lay bare our hypocrisy. For we do seek glory in the sight of men ; we do feign to possess those good things which we have not ; we do endeavour to beg for ourselves the fame of holiness and innocence, falsely denying our wickedness, and with lies attributing unto ourselves good works, lawfully and unlawfully, as often as we can.

Fourthly, He did lay aside His own nature in that He did renounce His kingdom, His princely estate and lord ship, and all things which He did possess. He, the King of kings and Lord of lords, whose kingdom is without end, deigned to live amongst men, and be as an humble servant, one dejected, cast out, and sold — and when they did desire to make Him king, He would not, but unto the kings of this world did He remain subject even unto death, obediently paying tribute unto the courts, judges, and tax-gatherers who did ask it of Him ; subjecting Himself not only unto kings, but likewise unto the lowest of their servants, officers, and ministers, ever obedient, even unto scourging and death upon the Cross. And He, the King of kings, did say before Pilate that His kingdom was not of this world. He sought not after the kingdom of this world or the temporal lordship over men, but was ever willing to be in subjection ; not to be lord or king or prince, but the most humble servant, casting Himself entirely aside. Moreover, He was sub ject unto His most poor and humble Mother and His putative father, obedient unto them and humbly serving them until His thirtieth year. He was obedient in the midst of His disciples, who were few in number, ignorant, and poor, and albeit He did choose to be as a king or ruler over them, He said that He was not come to be ministered unto, but to minister unto them, even unto the rendering up of His spirit for them and for the other sinners who were to be redeemed. Yea, He, the Head and Master of

those disciples, did suffer hunger and thirst and tribula tion ; for He was not their Master in order that He might be set above them, but that He might be the first amongst them to suffer affliction and be cast down ; and so humble was His intercourse with them that He did minister unto them as they sat at meat, even washing their hands and their feet. Alas, how great is our folly ! The mighty Lord and King of kings was despised and rejected of men, but we do ever seek to be exalted and preferred, and to live in liberty, free from all yoke whatsoever. Neither doth His love constrain us to be subject and obedient unto any person, but we do always desire to be set above the others. Not thus, not thus, oh Christ, didst Thou act, for Thou knewest that the judgment would be hard exceedingly, for those in authority and power will suffer great tor ments, and of their lives, their deeds, their sins, and of those in subjection unto them will they be required to render the most strict account. Thus will our pride be confounded by the Book of Life, who is Himself an ensample. And we do desire to sub ject ourselves unto those set in authority over us (as He hath ever done), not doing aught according unto our own will, but submitting for love of Him who submitted unto all things for our sake. And for our safety will we not only endure the state of subjection, but, fleeing from all preferment, we will seek with whole hearts and fervent desire to be in subjection and an humble state.

Such, then, was the supreme, constant, and perfect poverty of Jesus Christ our Saviour, who, albeit He was Lord of all riches, did nevertheless choose to be poor amongst us, that He might teach us the love of poverty. And verily He was poor in possessions, in will and in spirit, beyond man's comprehension, and all for the deep love wherewith He loved us. He was poor in riches and needy of all worldly things ; He was poor in friends and power, poor in worldly wisdom, in the fame of holiness and in all dignities. And finally, being poor in all things, He preached poverty and said that the poor were blessed and should judge the world. Upon the other hand He did condemn the wealthy and their riches and abundance, saying that they did deserve condemnation. He did preach this in deed and by word of mouth and by example, with all His might.

OH, the shame, oh, the pain of it ! In these days is poverty of spirit thrust forth and put to flight by almost all persons. And what is worse and yet more detestable is, that those same persons who do read of it in that Book of Life and understand and preach and glorify it, do utterly reject it in deed and will and in all their acts and intentions. And this they do because the world hateth that poverty, and God loveth and approveth it, choosing that most blessed thing for Himself and for His followers. But what man is there, what woman, or other creature, who in these days could declare themselves accompanied by such glorious companions as those by whom Christ elected to be accompanied ? Blessed is he whose re pentance hath led him to follow Christ's example and choose poverty in this world. Alas, alas, we do hear and know and steadfastly believe in what manner the Son of God (our Creator and Re deemer, the Master given unto us for an illumination and an ensample) was clothed, with what food and drink He was satisfied, with what garments He was adorned, in what palaces and chambers He was lodged, by what family and friends He was surrounded, what learning and knowledge He did pursue, and what goods of this world He did enjoy. All this do we know, yet nevertheless, even whilst we do say we are Christians, desiring to be so called — by no manner of means will we share Christ's poverty, neither do we desire to be like unto Him.

Although with words do we say many things glorifying poverty, yet in actual deeds and works we do blaspheme against that condition of Christ and the perfection of His poverty. Woe unto us, who, together with so great an ensample, teacher, and master, do truly thrust away from us our own salvation, turning from it and from His teaching to seek after the abundance of this world, and are left empty at the last ! Wherefore neither our penance

nor our Christianity do follow the straight way of Jesus Christ, but are most shamefully opposed unto it. Blessed (saith He), verily blessed is, and shall be, he who loveth poverty in all the aforesaid things and who desireth to be truly poor in worldly things, in deed and not only in words ; poor in friends, in familiar inter course, in all delights, vain knowledge and curiosity, poor in the repute of holiness and in all preferment and dignity. And if any should not be able to put away from himself utterly all these aforesaid things, he should at least en deavour with all his might to withdraw his affection from them. Of a surety these poor are blessed, for they shall inherit the kingdom of heaven. And those who have done the contrary in all things, and have only preached with their lips and uttered empty words, shall be left cursed and lamenting ; because theirs shall be the utmost poverty, eternal hunger and the house of hell, where there is everlasting hunger and thirst, where there is neither friend, nor brother, nor father to redeem them, nor any help whatsoever. Neither will they have power to issue forth, and all the wisdom of the world will not avail them ; but all things will be taken from them in very deed, as in very deed they did desire to keep them, contrary to the teaching of Christ. Wherefore shall they live in torments everlastingly. Amen.

OF THE HUMILITY AND CONTEMPT OF OUR SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST THE second companion by whom Jesus, the Son of God, was continually accompanied whiles He did live upon the earth was the voluntary and perfect contempt, dejection, ignominy, and shame which He did choose constantly to endure in this world. For He did live as a base servant who had been sold and not redeemed ; scarce even as a servant either, but rather as one who was reputed evil and wicked, knowing that He was to be mocked with insults, covered with scorn, derided, bound and scourged, and that finally without justice and without defender He was to be led forth, together with thieves and sinners, and with them condemned and slain, dying an ignominious death. Whiles He did live He did ever rebuke with words and deeds whosoever desired to do Him worldly honour, fleeing from the honour of this world and endur ing shame, the which He did accept willingly, yet never of His own self giving either cause or occasion for it. For almost all persons did persecute the Giver of the world ; they did deride and mock at Him, without reason and without cause. Even from His cradle and swaddling clothes did they begin to persecute Him, driving Him forth into a barbarous country. And when He was grown to man's estate they did call Him Samaritan and idolater ; some did even assert He was possessed, a glutton, seducer,

and a false prophet, saying : " Behold the devourer and drinker of wine, who is neither a prophet nor just, who performeth miracles not by the power of God, but casteth out devils through the prince of devils." Others did lead Him unto the summit of a mountain that they might cast Him down ; others took stones wherewith to stone Him. Beside these things were there divers rumours against Him, divers injuries, mockings, and calumnies, and evil re ports that He did blaspheme. Much sorrow and suffer ing did they prepare for Him both in words and deeds, driving Him forth from their habitations, and presently they did basely take Him and bind Him and bring Him before divers judges and councils. Some spat in His face, others did kick Him ; others put His white robes upon Him ; others crowned Him with thorns, smote Him, and, kneeling down before Him, mocked at Him. Others did smite Him upon His head with rods, and veiling His face they did deride Him in all manner of ways. Others beat Him with whips ; others did gnash their teeth at Him, like unto dogs hungering for blood, cursing and rebuking Him as a malefactor. Finally, He was led naked unto His Passion. He was forsaken of all His disciples ; one of them had denied Him, another had betrayed Him, the others were fled, and He remained alone and naked in the midst of the multitude. Seeing how that it was a feast day, the people were all gathered together, and as an evil doer betwixt evil-doers they did raise Him on high and did cruelly slay Him. And as He hung there, dying,

weeping and praying, certain of them did deride and mock at Him, saying, " Ah, thou that destroyest the Temple ! " and others reviled Him, saying, " He saved others, Himself He cannot save ! " Others did cast lots for His raiment ; others gave Him vinegar to drink mingled with gall, offering it unto the dying who humbly did implore water wherewith to quench His thirst. Others did pierce His dead side with a spear, and when He was brought down from the Cross He lay naked upon the ground, lacking even a sepulchre, until one came and sought Him, and took Him up and buried Him. Some there were who did speak against Him, saying, " We re member what that deceiver said." Some did conceal the resurrection, others denied it. And thus in life, in death, and after death He did receive naught save continual scorn and ignominy and baseness, and all this did He seek and endure in order that man might attain unto the glory of the Resurrection and be exalted unto the supremest glory. For this reason was the Son of God given unto us for a pattern and an ensample, a teacher and master, that we might learn to despise the glory of this world, and, not only that we might not seek after it, but that we might refuse it even though it were offered unto us. For He sought not His own glory, but that of the Father ; yea, He did even despise and refuse it, and He who was de scended from heaven did humble Himself even unto the feet of His disciples, making Himself like unto a servant

and rendering obedience even unto the death of the Cross, that death most bitter, most despised, and most vile. Alas, who is there in these days who loveth such a com panion as this, fleeing from honour and dignity ? Who chooseth the shame which cometh of poverty, of an humble estate, an humble office or other lowly things, and who chooseth to be overcome, cast down and reviled rather than to be commended and praised for the good which he hath, or doth, or speaketh, or deemeth himself to have, and who giveth no welcome or good words unto flatterers ? Verily, each one goeth his own way and there is not one who doeth this good thing. And if there should be any, it can only be because he is united in love with Christ his Head, and a true, living member of Him. For seeing how that Christ, his King, his Master and his Head loveth such company, he desireth to love it likewise. But there are many who say, " I do love and desire God, and I care not if the world doeth me no honour ; but I would not that it should put me to shame, neither would I that it should cast me to the ground, or revile me, or put me to confusion in the presence of others." This is a manifest sign of little faith, of little judgment, and of great lukewarmness. For either he hath truly committed that for the which he deserveth to be put to confusion, and to suffer pain and shame (from the which few can justly excuse themselves), or else he hath not committed it. If he hath committed any sin, manifest or hidden, and doth verily repent him

thereof, he must bear the punishment. And not only with patience shall he bear it, but with joy of soul and body, and this especially for two reasons. Firstly, be cause that shame, confusion, and pain which he endureth is pleasing unto God, and unto his neighbour, according unto the ordination of divine justice. And if he hath not committed that evil either in word or in deed, then must he bear and endure all confusion, shame, and pain, if God hath permitted it. And he must bear it with an hundred times greater patience and cheerfulness than he would have done in the first case, because that pain, con fusion, and shame do but serve to increase the grace, and the greater the merit of the grace, the greater is likewise the gift and reward of glory. Without any doubt it is by thus enduring shame and confusion (which do come without sin), that the holy souls and the friends of God do grow in grace and are made perfect, in the same manner as poverty and other afflictions sent of God do make perfect those who endure them. For Christ did love shame and refuse honour in order that He might show unto His friends how they could grow in virtue and in grace.

For this reason, therefore, doth this second companion ever accompany us through life, and if we would clearly behold the beginning, middle, and ultimate end of the life of Jesus Christ the Son of God, we must be all humility and must live in the world without honour, despised and rejected of the world and the lovers thereof.

OF THE CONSTANT AND MANY SUFFERINGS WHICH CHRIST DID BEAR IN DIVERS WAYS His third companion was that of the which He had the most experience and which did endure continually. This was supreme suffering, the which did instantly afflict His soul when it was joined unto His body. For in that moment wherein His soul was united with His human body it was instantly filled with supreme knowledge. Wherefore was Christ possessed of under standing even in the womb of the Virgin mother. He did instantly begin to feel the utmost suffering ; He possessed a universal and singular knowledge, foresight, consideration, and understanding of all the pains which His soul and body were presently to undergo, and bear for our sake, and, as though nigh unto death, He was filled with such agony and sadness that His body did give forth a bloody sweat which dropped even upon the earth, foreshowing the bitterness of death, and His soul did lament in its great affliction, albeit His body felt not so great a suffering as when it was more nigh unto its Passion. That holy soul did foresee the knives of those most evil tongues, and the sharp and cutting words of each especial tongue. He knew and did con stantly consider by whom, and when, and how, and in what degree He was to be afflicted, scoffed at, put to

death and slain, and for this end He knew that He was born into the world, and therefore could not escape suffering. He did foresee how He should be sold, betrayed, taken, bound, denied, forsaken, derided, beaten, accused, reviled, cursed, scourged, judged, re jected, and condemned, how He should be led to the Cross like unto a thief, divested of His raiment and left naked, crucified and done to death and pierced with a spear. He did know, moreover, of all the blows and scourgings, the holes of the nails and the drops of blood, and how many tears He should shed ; He knew of the sighs and weeping and dolorous lamentations of Himself and His mother ; all things were foreseen by that sacred soul of Jesus Christ. All this lay before Him and He did meditate thereon, which meditation could doubtless not be without exceeding great sadness and supreme suffering both of heart and mind. Wherefore was the whole life of Jesus Christ filled with the utmost suffering, sadness, and affliction. Beside all this, the Lord Jesus Christ, veritable Book of Life, did endure countless other sufferings. For when He was born He was not washed, neither cradled upon feathers not wrapped in skins ; but He was laid upon straw in a stable, He did lie in a hard manger be twixt beasts of burden. Thus from the moment of His birth did the young and tender infant begin to endure the afflictions of the body. He wandered forth with the sweet and tender Virgin, His mother, and with the old

man Joseph. He was carried even into Egypt by way of a great desert, wherein the children of Israel sojourned forty years without food prepared by human hands. Afterwards He did appear in the Temple according unto the law, walking thither on foot whiles He was yet a child, for His dwelling was in Nazareth, distant two days' journey from Jerusalem. When He became a man He received baptism before He did begin to preach; then He entered into the desert, where He fasted forty days and forty nights, and where He hungered so greatly that the devil did think by means of His hunger to persuade Him into sin, and thereby did he first tempt Him. He journeyed throughout the villages, hamlets, and cities, enduring hunger and thirst, rain and heat and cold, sweating and weariness, and at last the torture of a bitter death. And all this weariness did He endure in order that He might preach the way of truth, and cast out the falseness of demons and their vain worship, that He might prove unto men how profitable is repentance, and lead them thereunto, showing them how in the enduring of pain and affliction lieth man's true happiness, good, and glory, and that He might furnish them an ensample for the bearing of the aforesaid things.

No tongue sufficeth to describe, no heart can imagine the sufferings which He endured at the time of the Passion ; for Christ did bear ineffable sorrow in many ways. There was a most deep and sharp sorrow caused by the compassion He did feel for the human race, which He loved with a surpassing love, and not as man loveth. He did lament for the whole human race, lost, cast down and condemned, but He did also bestow especial com passion and love upon each person in particular. And not only did He lament for the sins of all persons in general, but likewise for each especial sin, according to its sum and nature, and for the punishment which He knew of a certainty that each one had deserved, or would deserve hereafter. Howsoever many men there have been, therefore, and whether they be now sinners or will be hereafter, and however many grievous sins each man hath committed or hath yet to commit, so many sorrows hath Christ borne, which sorrows proceeded from His surpassing mercy and compassion. And seeing how that the number of men and their sins and the punishments they must endure or have already endured is infinite, it is manifest that He beareth a most supreme and in finite sorrow for love of us.

Christ did of a certainty love His elect with a deep and ineffable love, continually feeling within Himself, according unto the measure of each one, the offences they had committed or were hereafter to commit, feeling likewise the punishment they should suffer for such offences. Wherefore did He lament for them, taking compassion on them, and all the while bearing their pains with the utmost grief. With such great grief and com passion was the most sweet Jesus afflicted for our sake that He was thereby constrained to bear the torments of the Cross, a horrible death and infinite suffering, in order that He might offer satisfaction for our offences, that He might redeem us and liberate us from punish ment. Without doubt Christ did likewise endure sorrow for Himself, deeply bewailing Himself because of the dolorous and unspeakable pains which He did clearly behold coming upon Him without fail, and because He beheld Himself sent into the world by the Father unto this end, that in His own person He might bear the grief and pain of all His elect ; nor was it possible for Him to escape the bearing of the aforesaid pain and grievous sorrow. If any person did know of a certainty that ex ceeding great and unbearable grief and suffering was about to fall upon him and that he would have such suffering without intermission ever before his eyes, without doubt he would feel compassion for himself ; and the greater he expected the suffering to be, and the more clearly he did understand and know it, the greater would be his misery. All this did Christ feel, more deeply than we can describe, but this example hath been given in ex planation because of the dulness of the human under standing.

Christ did, moreover, suffer grief for His most merciful Father, the Lord of mercy and of all pity, whom He loved with an infinite love. He saw that God His Father, whom He so greatly loved, was moved to such compassion and mercy for us that He was willing to send His dearly beloved Son to suffer death for our sake. Christ did suffer for His exceeding great grief, and therefore, in order that the Father's will might be fulfilled, He did humiliate Him self and was obedient even unto the death of the Cross. Suffering like unto this cannot by any means be ex plained. Therefore I can only say that the unspeakable suffering which Christ did endure was conceded, per mitted, and assigned unto Him by the ineffable wisdom of the Divinity, which divine dispensation, unspeakable and eternal, unspeakably and eternally one with Christ, did ordain that He should endure this supreme suffering. And the more admirable this divine dispensation, the sharper and more intense were Christ's sufferings, where fore hath there never been any mind so great that it was able to understand these sufferings. This divine dispensation was the true cause and origin of all suffering, wherein it all beginneth and endeth. And just as it is impossible for any mind to comprehend the infinite charity of Christ (here made manifest), because, by His own death, He hath redeemed us, so is it im possible to comprehend the infinite suffering which He had to endure and for which He did lament. And this suffering did proceed from the ineffable light with which He was filled. It is certain that by this enlightening, Christ, by making Him one with this divine dispensation, and transforming Him with divine illumination in His sufferings, this divinity and ineffable light did inflict upon Him such pain that no words can suffice to describe it.

Christ likewise suffered pain because of His compassion for His most sweet mother, seeing that He loved her above all other creatures. He had been born of her virgin body, and she did bewail her most sweet Son more deeply than did any other creature. Wherefore Christ had compassion upon her when He beheld her weeping and lamenting exceedingly with body and heart and soul. Before all things His mother did bewail the sufferings which Christ endured in Himself and which were ordained by the divine dispensation. Christ did also suffer because of the Father's anger, seeing that He loved Him (as hath been said) with a sur passing love. For He perceived that in crucifying his Lord and Creator, man had deeply offended God the Father with a greater sin than had ever been before or would be hereafter, the sin of slaying and crucifying the Son of God, and consequently God's anger was greater than ever before, for the which Christ did lament without measure. Thus moved by grief and compassion, alike for the offended Father and offending man, Christ spake these words, Pater ignosce illis quia nesciunt quid faciunt, that is to say, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Perchance the Father would have condemned the whole human race for this deed if Christ, almost for getting all His other sufferings, had not in His death ap peased His Father with this gracious prayer, offered unto Him with tears, and with love. Likewise did He endure

sorrow for His disciples, knowing how they and the women who had followed Him from afar were lamenting with exceeding deep grief, and seeing how that He loved them with a great love, He did grieve that they were scattered apart and in tribulation. Beside these sufferings Christ did also endure many others.

OF THE MANY AND DIVERS CRUELTIES USED TOWARDS CHRIST HE who doth well consider the matter will find that Christ Jesus, the Son of God, was pierced and wounded with four kinds of knives and spears. Firstly, there was the perverse and continuous cruelty inflicted wilfully upon Him by obstinate hearts, for they did diligently seek, meditate, and conspire in what manner they could most dishonourably and with the greatest cruelty drive Him from the earth, He and His name and all those whom He was come to save, and all those who followed Him. Secondly, there was the wickedness, anger, hatred, and malice borne Him by those who crucified Him. As many, therefore, as were the evil thoughts, perverse in tentions, and wicked designs conceived against Him, so many also were the knives and spears which did pierce the soul of Christ. Thirdly, there was the malice and falseness of the tongues which spake against Him ; for as many as were the accusations, evil counsels, deridings, mockings, blas phemies, maledictions, false witnesses, and false judg ments, even so many pains did His soul endure. Fourthly, there was the most cruel deed of the Passion, most cruelly inflicted upon Him, the which is manifest unto whosoever doth meditate upon the whole matter thereof. And certain is it, that as often as He was dragged hither and thither, His hair and beard plucked, as often as He was bound, spit at and scourged, even so many were the different sufferings which He did endure.

But especially did He suffer from the nails, for they did use nails of the largest kind, rough and square, and there with did they most cruelly pierce through His hands and feet. And by thus piercing them quite through and utterly laming them, men did most cruelly fasten them upon the Cross. This kind of nail did cause pain worse than any other ; and even had they been simply passed through His hands and feet and not driven into the wood, they would have occasioned the most acute pain. But not content even with spreading out His hands and feet, with stretching His bones and sinews and drawing all the joints of His body asunder, making Him fast unto the hard wood, they did also raise the Cross on high, exposing Him naked in the air and the wind, unto the gaze of all

people. And the weight of His body did thus hang from His hands and rest upon His feet, so that He felt more acutely the hardness of the nails, and the blood flowed unceasingly from the wounds they made. Thus He died in the greatest suffering, and thus was accomplished all the wickedness of men. And in order that this same Jesus, God and Man, might manifest somewhat of this intense suffering (and not for His own sake, but for us, just as for us He was bearing it, and that we might enter fully into that suffering), He cried aloud, saying, " My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me." It was not possible that He should be forsaken of God, seeing that He Himself was God, but inasmuch as He cried that He was forsaken He did bear witness unto His manhood. Thus He showed forth the unspeakable and surpassing pain which He endured for our sake, and without doubt God did share that pain with Christ who bore it. Where fore for our sake alone did He cry aloud, that He might make it clear unto us that He was bearing that supreme suffering for us and not for Himself, which did provoke and move Him frequently to grieve and lament.

But none must imagine that He only suffered when He was on the Cross ; because the formation and organisation of the body, the infusion into it of the soul and union of the Word, did take place at one and the same time. This union marvellous beyond belief, and this soul full of ineffable wisdom, do in themselves represent all those things in which we ought to believe as though we beheld them here present ; and therefore, He beheld coming iipon Him that pain of unspeakable bitterness, for the which He had been begotten and conceived. And be cause of this He did constantly lament, and inasmuch as it was laid upon Him by the divine and perfect wisdom, He did bear this great suffering from the time when His soul entered into His body until it departed therefrom. To this do His words testify, for He did often say how that He had to bear the Cross and that He must bear it even unto death. He said, " My soul is sad even unto death," and these things said He not for Himself, but for His disciples and for us, that we might be moved the more perfectly to suffer with His suffering. And this suffering, together with all that had gone before, was more intense and more keen because of the nobility of His soul. For in proportion as His soul was most holy, most tender and most noble, so were the sufferings wherewith He was tormented most keen and most intense.

The injuries, afflictions, and supreme suffering where with this most noble soul was tormented were all laid upon Him by the aforesaid supreme and unspeakable divine dispensation. And so deeply did they torment the soul of Christ, that each particular pain in itself did like wise afflict the body. Moreover, because this virgin body was more noble and more delicate than any other body born of woman, the pain was more intense, and it was more deeply afflicted by it,

Christ did feel this pain the more acutely because He Himself was the true God ; wherefore every affliction and injury done unto Him was a boundless offence, inas much as it was not done unto man alone, but unto the true God. For this reason had He cause for infinite lamentation, inasmuch as He did endlessly grieve over every wickedness and affliction done unto Him. Whiles that He was suffering all these things, the Saviour of the world, Christ Jesus, God and Man, did neither threaten nor curse, neither did He defend or vindicate Himself, nor excuse Himself when He was accused. He hid not His face when it was spat upon ; He withdrew not His hands and arms when they were stretched upon the Cross, He sought not to escape death ; but wholly and in all ways did He deliver Him self into the hands and unto the will of men, in order that, because of their iniquity, the work of redemption might be fulfilled, notwithstanding their opposition and ingratitude. The most wondrous thought of all is, that in this dreadful deed of the Passion committed against the Innocent One, He did furnish an example of patience ; He taught the truth unto those who slew Him, and with cries and tears did pray unto the Father for them, and in return for this greatest of sins (for the which the whole world and human nature deserved to perish), He did bestow upon them the greatest benefits. Thus by the pain and suffering which they inflicted upon Him did

He save us from pain and suffering ; He opened the gates of Paradise unto those who crucified Him and unto all others, reconciling them unto the Father, arid such grace did He obtain for us that we are thereby become the Sons of God. This reconciliation was effected through that self-same deed for the which the whole world and every creature was worthy of damnation for His sake, because the creature had been found guilty of committing such a great sin against its creator. Oh, pity ! Oh, mercy immense ! Oh, incredible be nignity which did cause such infinite grace to abound there where only infinite iniquity had hitherto abounded ! Verily, this mystery hath no end, but hath been ordained by that infinite Goodness and Mercy in order that we might have an example of endurance in all tribulations and adversity, and to teach us not only that we should never render back evil unto our enemies, but that for love of Him we should do good unto them. If some patriarch or prophet, or other saint, or even one of the angels, had given us such an example, we should of a certainty ascribe much merit unto it ; but that the infinite wisdom of God should have appeared amongst us incarnate, that the in fallible truth (which can neither deceive nor be deceived) should have given us such an ensample of life is a thing to be on no account passed over carelessly, but with all heed and diligence it must be followed with the utmost perfection.

We know, we have heard, and all the day long do we speak and discourse of how the Son of God did spend His whole life in suffering, and how that He not only patiently bore the tribulations which chanced to fall upon Him, but that, never having committed sin, He did choose it, and of His own will did take it upon Him. Yea, He sought tribulation, and having found it He loved it and submitted Himself unto it, showing His endurance in words and deeds, and preaching that all they were blessed who endured it likewise. Neither did He only with empty words praise and glorify these afflictions of body and soul patiently borne for God's sake, but He did actually bear in His own body and soul that which none other has ever borne. And He saith that through these tribulations He did enter into His kingdom and His glory, affirming that by no other way or means save that of suffering, pain, and tribulation is it possible to attain unto grace eternal.