A treatise of the loue of God. Written in french by B. Francis de Sales Bishope and Prince of Geneua, translated into English by Miles Car priest of the English Colledge of Doway

THE FIFT BOOKE. OF THE TVVO PRINCIPALE EXER∣CISES OF HOLY LOVE, performed by complacence and beneuolence. (Book 5)

Of the sacred Complacence of Loue, and first in what it con∣sisteth. CHAPTER. I.

I. LOVE, as we haue saied, is no o∣ther thing, then the motion, and gliding of the heart towards good, by meanes of the complacēce which one takes in it; so that complacence is the great motiue of loue, as loue is the great motion of complacence.

2. Now this motion is practised towards God

in this manner. We know by faith, that the Di∣uinitie is an incomprehensible Abisse of all perfe∣ction, soueraignely infinite in excellencie, and in∣finitly soueraigne in boūtie. And this truth which faith teacheth vs is attentiuely considered by me∣ditation beholding the immensitie of goods which are in God, either in grosse by assembling all the perfections; or in particular, by conside∣ring his excellences, one after another, for exāple his All-power, his All-wisdome, his All-goodnesse, his Eternitie, his Infinitie. Now when we haue brought our vnderstanding to be very attentiue, to the greatnesse of the Goods that are in this di∣uine obiect; it is impossible but our will should be touched with complacence in this good, and then we vse the libartie and power which we haue ouer our selues, prouoking our owne heart, to answere and strengthen this first complacence, by acts of approbation, and reioycing. O saieth the deuote soule in this case, how faire thou art my well-be∣loued, how faire thou art, thou art wholy desi∣reable, yea thou art desire it selfe! Such is my well-beloued, ād he is the friend of my heart! ô daugh∣ters of Hierusalem, ô blessed be my God for euer, who is so good: ah! whether I liue or die, too happie I am in knowing, that my God is so rich in all Goodnesse, that his Goodnesse is so infinite, his infinitie so good.

3. Thus approuing the good which we see in God, and ioying in it: we make an act of loue which is called complacence: for we please our selues in the diuine pleasure, infinitly more then in our owne: and it is this loue which rendred so

much content to the Saints, when they could meete with the perfections of their well-beloued, and which caused thē to pronoūce with so much delight, that God was God; Goe to, knowe saied they, that our Lord is God; ô God, my God, my God, thou art my God; the God of my heart; and my God is the part of myne inheritance for euer. He is the God of our heart by this cōplacence, sith by it, our heart doth embrace him, and makes him it's owne: he is our inheritāce, because by this act, we enioye the goods which are in God, ād as from an inheritance we haue from it all pleasure, and content: by meanes of this complacence we drinke and eate spiritually the perfections of the Diuini∣tie: for we make them our owne, and draw them into our hearts.

4. IACOBS owes drew into their entrals the va∣rietie of colours which they saw in the fountaine wherein they were watered, when they were a rā∣ming; for in effect their young lambes were there∣vpon spotted: so a soule taken with the pleasing complacence which she takes in considering the Diuinitie, and in it an infinitie of excellences, she drawes the colours thereof into her heart, that is to saie, the multitude of wonders and perfections which she doth contemplate: and makes them her owne, by the contentment which she takes therein.

5. O God what ioye shall we haue in heauen, THEO: when we shall see the well-beloued of our hearts, as an infinite sea, whose waters are perfe∣ction, and goodnesse! Then as Harts, much pur∣sued and spent, putting their mouthes to a cleare

and coole fountaine, doe draw into thē the coole∣nesse of these faire waters; so our hearts after so many languishments and desires, meeting with the strong and liuing source of the diuinitie, shall draw by their complacence, all the perfections of the well-beloued, and shall haue the perfect frui∣tion of them by the ioye which they shall take in them, replenishing themselues with those immortall delightes: and in this wise the deare Spouse will enter into vs, as into his mariage bed, to communicate his eternall ioye vnto our soules, according as he himselfe saieth, that if we keepe the holy law of his loue he will come, and seiourne with vs. Such is the sweete and noble robberie of Loue, who without vncolouring the well-beloued doth colour it selfe with his colours; without dis∣robing him, inueste it selfe with his robes; with∣out taking from him, takes all that he hath, and without impouerishing him, is enriched with all his wealth; as the aire takes light, not lessening the originall brightnesse of the sunne, and the Myrror the grace of the countenance, not dimi∣nishing his, that lookes in it.

7. They were made abominable like to the things they loued, saied the Prophet speaking of the wicked; so might one saie of the good, that they are become louely as the things they loued. Behold I beseech you, S. CLARE of Mountfalco her heart, it was so delighted in our Sauiours Pas∣sion, and in meditating the most holy Trinitie, that it drew into it selfe all the markes of the pas∣sion, and an admirable representation of the Tri∣nitie: being made such as the things she loued.

The loue, which the great Apostle S. PAVLE, bore to the life, death and passion of our Sauiour, was so great that it drew the very life, death, and pas∣sion of this heauenly Sauiour into his louing ser∣uants heart; whose will was filled with it by dile∣ction, his memorie by meditation, and his vnder∣standing by contemplation. But by what canall or conduict was the milde IESVS conueied into SAINT PAVL••S heart? by the canall of complacence, as he himselfe declareth, saying: Farre be it from me euer to glorie, saue in the crosse of our Sauiour IESVS-CHRIST: for if you doe marke it, betwixt glo∣rying in a person, and compleasing ones selfe in the same; taking glorie, and taking pleasure in a thing, there is no other difference, sauing that he who glories in a thing, to pleasure addes honour, honour not being without pleasure, though plea∣sure can be without honour. This soule then, had such a complacence, and esteemed himselfe so much honored in the diuine Goodnesse, which appeares in the life, death, and passion of our Sa∣uiour, that he tooke no pleasure but in this ho∣nour. And it is this that made him saie, be it farre from me to Glorie saue in the crosse of my Sauiour, as he also saied that he liued not him∣selfe, but IESVS-CHRIST liued in him.

How by holy complacence we are made as little children, at our Sa∣uiours breasts. CHAPTER. II.

1. O God how happie the soule is who takes pleasure in learning to know that God is God, and that his bountie is an infinite bountie: For this heauenly spouse, by this Gate of Com∣placence, enters into her, and suppes with vs, as we with him. We feede our selues with his sweete∣nesse, by the pleasure which we take therein, and recollect our heart, in the diuine perfections, by the repose we take therein: and this repast is a supper by reason of the repose which doth follow it, complacence making vs sweetely repose, in the deliciousnesse of the good which delightes vs, and wherwith we feede our heart: For as you know THEO: the heart feedes of that which delightes her, whēce in our French tongue we saie, that some are fed with honours, others with riches, as the wise-man saied, that the mouthers of fooles are fed with ignorance, and the soueraigne wisdome pro∣testeth, that he is fed, that is, he is pleased, with no other thing then to doe the will of his Father: In conclusion, the Phisitions Aphorisme is true; what is sauorie, nourisheth; and the Philosophers what pleaseth, feedeth.

2. Let my well-beloued come into his garden

saied the sacred spouse, and let him eate therein the fruite of his Aple-trees. Now the heauenly spouse comes into his garden, when he comes into the deuote soule. For seeing his delight is to be with the children of men, where can he better lodge then in the countrie of the minde, which he made to his likenesse ād similitude. He himselfe doth set in this garden, the louing Complacence which we haue in his bountie, ād whereof we feede as likewise his Goodnesse doth take his repast and repose in our complacence, so that againe our complacence is augmented, to perceiue that God is pleased to see vs take pleasure in him; in such sort that from these reciprocall pleasures the loue of incomparable Complacence doth spring, by which our soule being made a gardē of her spouse, and hauing from his bountie the Aple-trees of his delightes, she rēders him the fruite thereof, being that he is pleased in the complacence, she takes in in him. Thus doe we draw Gods heart into ours, ād he disperseth in it his precious Baulme. And thus is that practised which the holy Bride spoke with such ioye. The king of my heart, hath led me into his closet, we will exult, and reioyce in the, minde full of thy breasts, more amiable then wine, the good doe loue thee: for I praie you, THEO: what are the closets of this king of loue, but his papes, which aboūde in the varietie of sweetenesse ād de∣lightes: The breasts and duggs of the mother are the closet of the little infants treasures, he hath no other riches then those which are more precious vnto him then gold, or the Topase, more beloued then the rest of the world.

3. The soule then which doth contemplate the infinite treasures of diuine perfections in her well-beloued holds her selfe too happie and rich, in that loue doth make her Mistrisse, by complacence, of all the perfections and content∣ments of her deare spouse. And euen as the babie doth giue little ierts towards his mothers Pape, and hops with ioye to see thē discouered, ād as the mother againe on her part doth ••resent them vnto him, with a loue alwayes a little forwards: euen so the deuoute soule doth feele t•••• dauncings and motions of an incomparable ioye, through the content which she hath, in beholding the trea∣sures of the perfections, of the king of her holy loue; but especially when she sees that he himselfe doth discouer them by loue, and that amongst them that perfection of his infinite loue doth ex∣cellently shine. Hath not this faire soule reason to crie? O my king, how amiable thy riches are, and how rich thy loues? ah! which of vs haue more ioye, thou that enioyest it, or I who reenioye it? we daunce with mirth in memorie of thy breasts, and thy duggs, so plentifull in all excellencie of deliciousnesse. I, because my well-beloued doth enioye it; thou because thy well-beloued doth re∣reēioy it; for so we doe both ēioye it, sith thy good¦nesse makes thee ēioye my reenioying, ād my loue makes me reenioye thy enioying. Ah! the iust and the good doe loue thee, and how can one be good and not loue so great a goodnesse? Wordly Princes keepe their treasures in the closets of their Pa∣laces; their armour in their Castles; But the heauē¦ly Prince, keepes his treasures in his bosome, his

armes within his breaste; and because his treasure is his goodnesse, as his weapons are his loues, his breaste and bosome resembles those of a tēder mo∣ther, who hath two faire duggs, as two closets, rich with the sweetenesse of good milke, armed with as many darts, to subdue her little deare ba∣bie, as it makes shoots in sucking.

4. Nature su••ely lodged the duggs in the bo∣some, to th'end that, the heat of the heart conco∣cting the milke, as the mother is the childs nourse, so her heart should be his foster-father, and that milke might be a foode of loue, better a thousand times then wine. Note the while, THEOT: that the comparison of milke and wine, seemes so proper to the holy spouse, that she is not content to haue saied once, that her spouse his breasts surpasseth wine, but she re∣peats it thrice. Wine, THEOT: is the milke of grapes, and milke is the wine of the duggs: for so the sacred spouse saieth, that her well-beloued, is to her a grape, but a Cyprine grape, that is, of an excellēt odour. The Israelites saieth Moyses, could drinke the purest and best blood of the grape: And IACOB describing vnto his sonne Iudas, the share which they should haue in the land of Promise, prophetised vnder this figure, the ••r••e felicitie of Christians, saying that our Sauiour would wash his robe, that is, his holy Church, in the blood of the grape, that is, in his owne blood: Now blood and milke are no more differrent, then grapes and wine: For as grapes ripening by the sunnes heate, chang their colour, become a grate∣full and nourishing wine: so blood tempered by

the heate of the heart, turns faire white, and be∣comes a fit foode for children.

5. Milke which is a cordiall foode wholy con∣sisting of loue, represents the mysticall knowledge and diuinitie, that is, the sweete relish which pro∣ceeds from the complacence of loue, which the minde receiues in meditating the perfections of the diuine Goodnesse; But wine signifies ordinarie and acquired knowledge, which is squeezed by force of speculation from the presse of diuers ar∣guments and disputes. Now the milke which our soules draw from the breastes of our Sauiours Charitie: is incomparably better then the wine which we squeeze from humane discourse: For this milke floweth from heauenly loue, which prepares it for his children, yea euen before they yet thought of it: it hath a sweete and amiable gust and the odour thereof puts downe all perfumes, it makes the breath pure and sweete, as of a sucking child: it giues ioye, without insolencie; it inebria∣teth, without dulling: it doth not onely reare vp, but euen reuiue the senses.

6. When the holy man Isaac embraced and kis∣sed his deare child IACOB, he smelt the good odour of his garments, and straight perfumed with an extreame pleasure: ô quoth he, behold how the odour of my sonne is like to the odour of a flou∣rishing field, which God hath blessed: the gar∣ment and perfumes were vpon IACOB, but ISAAC had the complacence and reenioying of them. Alas, the soule which by loue holds her Sauiour in the armes of her affection, how deliciously doth she smell the perfumes of the infinite perfections

which are found in him? with what complacence doth she saie in herselfe, behold how the sent of my God is like the smell of a flourishing garden? how precious are his breastes, sending out soue∣raigne parfumes? So the Spirit of a great S. Augu∣gustine, staied in suspence betwixt the sacred con∣tentments which he had to consider; on the one side the mysterie of his Maisters birth; on th'other that of the passion, he cried out rauished in this complacence.

Betwixt two sacred fires I burne, Nor know to which my heart to turne. From hence, a Mother doth present A fluent breast, a deare content: From thence, as from a TRVEST VINE Doth issue blood, in lieu of wine.

That a holy complacence giues our heart to God, and makes vs feele a continuall desire in enioying him. CHAPTER. III.

1. THe loue which we beare to God doth flow from the first complacence that our heart takes, vpon the apprehension of the diuine Goodnesse, when it begins to tend towards the same. Now when by the exercise of loue we doe

augment, and strengthen this first cōplacence, as we haue declared in the precedent Chapters, we then draw into our hearts the diuine perfections, and enioye the Diuine Goodnesse, by the delight we take in it, practising the first part of the con∣tentment of loue expressed by the sacred spouse, saying: my well-beloued is myne. But because this complacence of loue being in vs that haue it, is also in God, in whom we take it, it giues vs re∣ciprocally to his Diuine Goodnesse, so that by this holy loue of complacēce, we enioye the goods which are in God, as though they were our owne; but because the diuine perfections, are stronger then our Spirit, entring into it, they enioye it reci∣procally, in so much, that we doe not onely saie God is ours by this cōplacence, but that we are his.

2. The hearbe Aproxis (as elsewhere we haue saied) hath so great a correspondance with fire, that, though in distance, as oone as it gets into the aspect of it, it draweth the flame, and begins to burne, conceiuing fire, not so much from the heate, as from the light of the fire pre∣sented. When then by this attraction it is vnited to the fire, if it could speake, might it not well saie, my well-beloued fire is myne, sith I drew it to me and enioye its flames: but I am also his, for though I drew it to me, it reduced me into it, as more strong, and noble; it is my fire, and I am its hearbe, I draw it, and it burnes me. So our heart being brought into the presence of the Diuine Goodnesse, and hauing drawen the perfections thereof by the complacēce it takes in them, may truely saie, Gods Goodnesse

is all myne, sith I enioye his excellēcies ād I againe am wholy his, seeing his delightes enioye me.

3. By complacence, our soule as a Gedeons fleece, is wholy filled with heauenly dewe, and this dewe is the fleeces, because it fell vpon it; and and againe the fleece is the dewes, because it was steeped in it, and receiued vertue from it. Which doth more belong to the other, the pearle or the oyster to the pearle? The pearle is the oysters, be∣cause she drew it to her, but the oyster is the pear∣les, because it giues her worth and value. Compla∣cence makes vs Possessours of God, drawing into vs his perfections; but it makes vs also possessed of God, applying and tying vs to his perfections.

4. Now in this complacence, we doe glut our soule with delights, in such a manner, that we doe not yet cease to desire to be glutted, and tasteing the diuine Bountie, we desire yet to taste it, in sa∣tiating our selues, we would still eate, and in ea∣ting we perceiue our selues satiated. The head of the Apostles, hauing saied in his first Epistle, that the old Prophets had manifested the graces which were to abound amongst Christians, and amongst other things our Sauiours passion, and the glorie which was to follow it, as well by the Resurrectiō of his bodie, as also by the Exaltation of his name: In the end he concluds that the very Angels doe desire to behold the mysteries of the Redemption in this diuine Sauiour, whom, saieth he, the Angels doe desire to behold. But how can this be vnder∣stoode that the Angels who see the Redeemour, and in him all the mysteries of our saluation, doe yet desire to see him? THEO: Verily they see him

continually, but with a viewe so agreeable and de∣licious, that the complacence they take in it doth satiate them, without taking away their desire, and makes them desire without remouing their Sacietie, the fruition is not lessened by the desire, but perfected therby, as their desire is not cloied but sharpned by the fruition.

5. The fruition of a thing which doth conti∣nually content, doth neuer fade, but is renewed, and flourisheth incessantly, it is still agreeable, still amiable; The continuall contentment of heauen∣ly louers, produceth a desire perseuerantly con∣tent, as their continuall desire, doth beget in them, a contentment perseuerantly desired. The good which is finite, in giuing the possession doth end the desire, and in giuing the desire doth dis∣possesse, while it cannot at once be possessed and desired: But the infinite Good, makes desire raigne with possession, and possession with desire, finding a way to saciate desire by a holy presence, and yet make it liue by the greatnesse of its excel∣lencie which doth nourish in all those that possesse it, a continually contented desire, and a content∣ment continually desired.

6. Consider TH••OT: such as hold in their mouth the hearbe SCITIQVE, for following report, they are neither hungrie, nor thristie, so doth it sa∣ciate! and yet doe they neuer loose appetite, so de∣liciously doth it nourish them! When our will meetes God, she reposeth in him, taking therein a soueraigne complacence, yet without staying the motions of her desire: for as she desires to loue, so she loues to desire: she hath the desire of loue,

and the loue of desire. The repose of the heart consisteth not in immobilitie, but in hauing want of nothing: Not, in not mouing, but in not ha∣uing neede to moue.

7. The damned are in eternall motion, with∣out all mixture of rest: we mortalls who are yet in this pilgrimage, haue now motion, now rest, in our affections; The Blessed haue continuall repose in their motion and continuall motion in their re∣pose; onely God hath repose without motion, be∣cause he is soueraignely on substantiall and pure act. And though according to the ordinarie condition of this mortall life, we rest not in mo∣tion, yet notwithstanding when we make essaies of the exercises of the immortall life, that is, when we practise the acts of holy loue, we find repose in the motion of our affections, and motion in the repose of the complacence which we take in our well-beloued, receiuing hereby fore-tastes of the future Felicitie, to which we aspire.

8. If it be true that the Cameleon liues of aire, wheresoeuer he goes in the aire, he finds foode; ād though he stirre from one place to another, it is not to find wherewithall to be satiated, but to ex∣ercise himselfe in his element, as fishes in the sea. Who desires God in possessing him, doth not de∣sire him, to search him, but to exercise affection, euen in the good which he enioyes: for the heart doth not make this motion of desire as pretending the fruition of a thing not had, sith it is already had, but as dilating it selfe in the fruition which it hath; not to obtaine the Good, but to recreate and please it selfe therein; not to enioye it, but to

reioyce in it. No otherwise then we moue our selues, and goe to some delicious garden, where being arriued, we cease not to walke and stire our selues, yet it is not to come thither, but being there to walke and passe our time: we went to en∣ioye the pleasantnesse of the garden; being there, we walke, to please our selues in the fruition of it.

Let not in length of time be found a space, In which we cease to search t'Almighties face.

We alwayes seeke, whom we alwayes loue, saieth the Great, S. AVGVSTINE. Loue seekes whom it hath found, not to haue him, but to haue him still.

9. Finally, THEO: the soule who is in the exer∣cise of the loue of complacence, cries continually in her sacred silence: It suffiseth me that God be God, that his Goodnesse be infinite, that his per∣fection be immence: whether I liue, or not, it little imports me, sith that my deare well-beloued liues eternally a triumphant life: Death it selfe cannot attristate a heart who knowes that its soueraigne Loue, liues. It is sufficient for a heart that loues, that he whom it loues more then it selfe, is reple∣nished with eternall happinesse, seeing that it liues more in him whom it loues, then him, whom it doth animate, yea that it liues not, but its well-beloued liues in it.

Of a louing condoling, by which the com∣placence of loue is better declared. CHAPTER. IV.

1. COmpassion, condoling commiseration, or mercy, is no other thing, then an affection which makes vs share in the sufferāces and griefes of him whom we loue, drawing the miserie which he endures into our heart, whence it is called MI∣SERICORDIA as one would saie MISERIA CORDIS: as complacence doth draw into the louers heart, the pleasures and contentments of the thing beloued. It is Loue that workes both the effectes, by the vertue it hath, to vnite the louers heart to the be∣loued, by this meanes making the good and euill which they haue, cōmon betwixt them. And that which happens in compassion, doth much illu∣strate that which toucheth complacence.

2. Compassion takes her grouth from the loue whence she proceedes. So we see mothers doe deeply condole the afflictions of their onely chil∣dren, as the Scripture doth often testifie. How great was the sorrow of Agars heart, vpon the griefe of her Ismael, whom she saw well nigh pe∣rish with thirst in the Desert: How much did DA∣VIDS soule commiserate the miserie of his Abso∣lon: Ah doe you not marke the motherly heart of the great Apostle, sicke, with the sicke: burning

with zeale for such as were scandalized, with a continuall dolour for the losse of the Iewes: and dayely dying for his deare spirituall children: But especially cōsider how loue drawes all the paines, all the torments, trauells, sufferances, griefes, wounds, passiō, crosse, and death it selfe of our Re∣deemour, into his most sacred Mothers heart. Alas the same Nailes that crucified the bodie of this di∣uine child, did also crucifie the mothers heart; the same thrones which pearced his head, did strike through the heart of this entirely sweete mother: she endured the same miseries with her sonne by commiseration; the same dolours, by condoling; the same passions by compassion: to be short, the sworde of death which transpearced the bodie of this best beloued sonne did stricke through the heart of this most louing mother; whence she might well haue saied, that he was to her a POSIE OF MIRRHE amidst her breastes, that is, in her bo∣some, and in the midst of her heart. IACOB, hea∣ring the sad, though false, newes of the death of his deare IOSEPH, you see how he is afflicted with it: ah! saied he, in sorrow I will descend to hell, that is to saie, to Lymbo, into ABRAHAMS bosome, after this child.

3. Commiseration is also great according to the greatnesse of their sufferances whom we loue: for how little soeuer the friēdshipe be, if the euells which we see endured be extreame they cause in vs great pitie. This made Cesar weepe ouer Pom∣pey; and the daughters of Hierusalem could not stay themselues from weeping ouer our Sauiour; though the greater part of them, did not much af∣fect

him: as also the friends of IACOB, though wicked friends, made great lamentation, in be∣holding the dreadfull spectacle of his incompa∣rable miserie: and what a stroke of griefe was it in the heart of IACOB, to thinke that his deare child was dead, of a death so cruell, as to be de∣uoured by a sauage beaste? But besids all this, com∣miseration is much strengthened, by the presence of the obiect in miserie: this caused the poore Agar, absent her selfe from her languishing sonne, to disburden her selfe in some sort of the compas∣sionate griefe which she felt, saying: I will not see the child die; as contrariwise our Sauiour weepes, seeing the sepulchre of his well-beloued Lazarus: and beholding his deare Hierusalem; And the good IACOB, was struck with griefe, when he saw the bloodie Robe of his poore little IOSEPH.

4. Now, as many causes also doe augment complacence. As a friend is more deare vnto vs, we take more pleasure in his contentment, and his good doth enter more deeply into our heart: which if it be excellent, our ioye is also greater; but if we see our friend while he enioyes it, our reioy∣cing becomes extreame. When the good IACOB knew that his sonne liued, ô God what ioye! his heart returned home, he reuiued, yea as one would saie returned to life. But what is this, he reuiued, returned to life? THEO: SPIRITS die not their pro∣per death but by sinne, which seperateth them from God, who is their true supernaturall life, yet die they sometimes by anothers death: and this happened to IAGOB, of whom we speake: for loue which drawes into the heart of the louer, the good

and euill of the thing beloued, the one by compla∣cence, the other by commiseration, drew the death of the louely IOSEPH, into the louing IACOBS heart, and by a miracle impossible to any other power but loue, the minde of the good Father was full of the death of him that liued, and raigned, de∣ceiued affection forerunning the effect.

5. But as soone as he had knowen that his sonne was a liue, Loue who had so long detained the presupposed death of the sonne in the good Fathers heart seeing that he was deceiued, speedely reiected this imaginarie death, and made enter in its place the true life of the saied sonne; Thus then he returned to a new life, because the life of his sonne entred into his heart by complacence, and animated him with an incomparable contentment with which finding himselfe satisfied, and not esteeming any other pleasure in comparison of this, it fufficeth me, saieth he, if my child IOSEPH liue. But when with his proper eyes he experien∣ced his deare childs greatenesse in Gessan, hanging vpon him and for a good space weeping about his necke; ah, now, saieth he, I will die ioyfull, my deare Sōne sith I haue seene thy face, and thou dost yet liue. ô God what a ioye, THEO: and how excel∣lently expressed by this old man! For what would he saie by these words, now I will die contented, sith I haue seene thy face, but that his con∣tent was so great that it was able to render death it selfe ioyfull and agreeable, being the most discomfortable, and horrible thing in the world? Tell me, I pray you, THEO: who hath more sense of IOSEPHES good, he that enioyes it,

or IACOB who reenioyes it? Certainly if good be not good but in respect of the content which it af∣fordeth vs: the father hath as much, yea more then the Sonne: for the sonne together with the dignitie of VICE-ROY whereof he is possessed, hath cōsequently many cares, ād affaires: but the Father doth enioye by Complacence, and purely possesse all that good is, in this his sonnes greatenesse, and dignitie, without charge, care, or trouble. I will dye Ioyfull saieth he: Alas! who doth not see his contentment: if euen death cannot trouble his ioye, who can euer chang it? if his content can liue amidst the distresses of death, who can euer bereeue him of it? Loue is strong as death, and the ioyes of loue doe surmount the anoyes of death, for death cānot kill, but doth reuiue them, so that, as there is a fire which miraculously is feed in a fountaine nere Greenoble, as I surely know, and S. AVGVSTINE doth attest, so holy Cha∣ritie is so strong, that she doth nourish her flames and consolations in the saddest anguishes of death, and the waters of tribulations cannot extinguish her fires.

Of the commiseration and Complacence of loue in our Sauiours Passion. CHAPTER. V.

1. VVHen I see my Sauiour vpon the moūt Oliuet, with his soule, sad euen to

death; O Lord I••SVS, saie I, who could haue borne these sorrowes of death, in the soule of life, if not loue, who mouing commiseration drew thereby our miseries into thy soueraigne heart. Now a deuote soule, seeing this abisse of sorrow and distresse in this Diuine louer, how can she be without a holily louing griefe? But considering on the other side, that none of these her well-be∣loued's afflictions proceede from any imperfectiō, or want of force, but from the greatnesse of his most deare loue she cannot but melt with a holily dolorous loue: so that she cries out, I am blacke with griefe by compassion, but I am faire with loue, by Complacence; the anguishes of my well-beloued, haue changed my hew; for how can a faithfull louer see him so tormented, whom she loues more then her life, without becomming ap∣palled, withered and dried vp with griefe? No∣mades tents, perpetually exposed to the outrage of weather and warrs are almost still beaten, and couered with dust, and I open to sorrows, which by commiseration I receiue, from the excessiue suffrances of my diuine Sauiour, I am quite coue∣red with anguishe, and split with griefe: but be∣cause his griefes whom I loue, proceede from his loue, as much as they afflict me by compassion, they delight me by Complacence: For how must not a faithfull louer needes haue an extreme cōtēt to see her selfe so much beloued of her heauenly Spouse! And hence the beautie of loue appears in the foulenesse of griefe. And though I weare mourning weedes for the Passion and death of my King, deformed and blacked with griefe, yet am

I not without an incomparable delight, to be∣hold the excesse of his loue, amidst the panges of his sorrowes. And the tents of SALOMON bro∣dered, and wrought with an incomparable diuer∣sitie of worke, was neuer so goodlie, as I am con∣tent, and consequently, sweete, amiable, and a∣greeable, in the varietie of the essaies of loue, which I feele amongst these griefes. Loue doth e∣qualize the louers: ah! I see this deare louer, who is a burning fire, in a thornie bush of griefe; and euen so I, I am wholy inflamed with loue amōgst the thornie thickets of sorrow; I am a Lillie enui∣roned with thornes; doe not onely looke vpon the horrours of my pinching griefes, but behold the agreeable beautie of my loues. Alas this Diuine well-beloued louer doth suffer insupportable griefes, this it is that toucheth my heart, and makes me sound with anguish: but he takes plea∣sure in suffering, he loues his torments, and dies with ioye, to die with griefe for me: wherefore as I greeue in his griefe, so am I rauished with ioye in his loue; I doe not onely sorrow with him, but glorie in him.

2. It was this loue THEO: that drew the Stig∣mats vpon the louing Seraphicall S. FRANCIS; and vpon the louing Angelicall S. CATHERINE of Scienna, the vrgent wounds of her Sauiour; the louing Complacence, hauing sharpened the point of the dolourous compassion, as honnie make the bitternesse of Wormewoode more pearcing and sensible: as cōtrariwise, the daintie smell of Roses is refined by the neighberhoode of Garlike, which is planted neare the Rose-trees: for so the louing

Complacence, which we haue taken in the loue of our Sauiour makes the compassion which we haue of his dolours more forcible; as also passing from the compassion of sorrowes, to the complacence of loues, we take a more ardent, and high content. Then the griefe of loue, and the loue of griefe is practised; then the amourous compassion, and do∣lourous complacence, as another ESAV and IACOB, striuing who should striue more, puts the soule into incredible conuultions and agonies, and as it were an extasie amourously dolorous, and dolou∣rously amourous. And according to this, the great soules of S. FRANCIS, and S. CATHERINE, felt in∣comparable loues: in their dolours, and match∣lesse dolours in their loues, when they were stig∣matized, perceiuing loue ioyfull to endure for a friend, which our Sauiour exercised in the highest degree vpō the tree of the Crosse. Thus is the pre∣cious vnion of our soule with God made, which as a mysticall Beniamin is a child of griefe ād loue to∣gether.

3. It cannot be expressed, THEO: how much our Sauiour desires to enter into our soules by way of this dolourous Complacence. Alas, saieth, he, open me the dore, my deare sister, my friend, my doue, my all-faire, for my head is all to be∣dewed, and my heires with the dropes of the night. What is this dewe, what are these dropes of the night, but the paines, and torments of his Passion? Pearles, (as we haue many times saied) are no other thing then dewie dropes, which the nights freshnesse shewers downe vpon the face of the sea, receiued in the shelles of Oysters, or mother-pearles.

Ah! would the diuine louer of the soule saie, I am! oden with the paines, and sweat of my passion, which almost all passed either in the dark∣nesse of the night, or in the night of darknesse, which the eclipsed sunne caused at the hight of the day. Open then thy heart towards me, as the mo∣ther-pearle doth hers towards heauen, and I will poure downe vpon thee, the dewe of my passion, which shall turne into pearles of consolation.

Of the Loue of Beneuolence which we exercise towards our Sauiour by way of desire. CHAPTER. VI.

1. THe loue which God exerciseth towards vs, is alwayes begun by beneuolence willing and effecting all the good that is in vs, in which af∣terwards he takes complacence. He made DAVID according to his heart by beneuolence, because he found him according to his heart by Compla∣cence. He first created the world for man and man in the world, indewing euery thing with such a measure of goodnesse as was proportionable to it out of his pure beneuolence; then he approued all that he had done, finding that all was very good, and by complacence reposed in his worke.

2. But contrariwise our loue towards God be∣gins from the complacence which we haue in the soueraigne Goodnesse, and infinite perfection,

which we know is in the Diuinitie; then, we come to the exercise of beneuolence; And as the Com∣placence which God takes in his creaturs, is no other thing then a continuation of his beneuo∣lence towards them, so the beneuolence which we beare towards God, is nothing else, but an appro∣bation, and perseuering in him.

3. Now this loue of beneuolence towards God, is practised in this sort: we cannot with a true desire wish any good to God, because his goodnesse is infinitly more perfect, then we can either wish or thinke: Desire is onely of a future good, and no good is future to God, sith that all good is so present to him, that the presence of good in his Diuine Maiestie, is no other thing then the Diuinitie it selfe. Not hauing therefore power to make an absolute desire for God, we doe make imaginarie and conditionall ones, in this manner: I haue saied, ô Lord thou art my God, who being full of thy owne infinite goodnesse, can haue no wāt, neither of my riches, nor of any other thing: but if by imagination of a thing impossible, I could thinke, thou had'st neede of any thing, I would neuer cease to wish it thee, euen with the losse of my life, beeing, and of all that the world hath. And if being what thou art, and which thou cannot but still be, it were possible that thou couldst receiue any encrease of good, ô God, what a desire should I haue, that thou hadst it: In that case ô eternall Lord, I would desire to see my heart conuerted into wishes, and my life into sighes, to wish thee such a good: ah! yet would I not for all this, ô thou sa∣cred

well-beloued of my soule, desire to haue power to desire any good to thy Maiestie; yea I hartily please my selfe in this thy supreeme de∣gree of goodnesse, to which nothing can be added, neither by desire, nor yet by thought. But if such a desire were possible, ô infinte, Diuinitie, ô Di∣uine infinitie, my soule would be that desire, and no other thing then that, so much would she be desirous, to desire for thee, that which she is infi∣nitly pleased, that she cannot desire, seeing that her impotencie therein proceedes frō the infinite infinitie of thy perfection, which outstrips all de∣sire and cogitation. Ah! ô my God how dearly I loue the impossibilitie of being able to desire thee any good, sith, that ryseth out of the incompre∣hensible immensitie of thy abundance, which is so soueraignely infinite, that if there be an infinite desire, it should be infinitly saciated by the infini∣tie of thy Goodnesse, which would conuert it into an infinite cōplacence. These desires then by ima∣gination of impossibilities, may be sometimes profitably practised, amongst great, and extraor∣dinarie feelings and feruours. Thus, as it is repor∣ted, did the great S. AVGVSTINE often behaue himselfe pouring out in excesse of loue, in these words. Ah! Lord, I am AVGVSTINE, and thou art God, but howbeit, if that which neither is, nor can be, were, that I were God, and thou AVGVS∣TINE, I would, in changing my condition with thee, become AVGVSTINE, to the end, thou mightest be God.

4. It is another kind of Beneuolence towards God, when seeing we cannot aduance him in him∣selfe,

we striue to doe it in our selues, that is still more and more to encrease the Complacence we take in his Goodnesse. And then THEOT: we de∣sire not the Complacēce for the pleasure it yealdes vs, but purely because this pleasure is in God: For as we desire not the compassion, for the sor∣row it brings to our heart, but because this sor∣row doth vnite, and associate vs to our well-be∣loued who greerueth; Nor doe we loue the com∣placence because it brings vs pleasure, but because this pleasure is taken in vnion of the pleasure, and goodnesse which is in God, to which to be more vnited, we would please our selues in a compla∣cence infinitly greater, by the imagination of the most holy Queene, and mother of loue, whose soule did continually magnifie and exalte God; And to th'end that it might be knowen that this aduancement was made by the complacence which she tooke in the diuine Goodnesse, she sig∣nifies that her heart leapt with contentment in God her Sauiour.

How the desire to exalte and magnifie God, doth separate vs from inferiour plea∣sures, and makes vs attentiue to the Diuine perfections. CHAPTER. VII.

1. LOVE OF BENEVOLENCE, then causeth in vs a desire more ād more to increase the cō∣placence

which we take in the Diuine Goodnesse and to effect this encrease, the soule doth carefully depriue her selfe of all other pleasure, that she may giue herselfe more entirely to take pleasure in God. A religious man, asked S. GILES, one of the first, and most holy Companions of S. FRAN∣CIS in what worke he could be most agreeable to God: he answered, in singing one to one, which after explicating; giue alwayes, quoth he, all your soule, the onely one to God, who is one. The soule doth glide through pleasures, and the diuer∣sitie of them doth distract and hinder her, that she cannot attentiuely attend to the pleasure which she ought to take in God. The true Louer hath scarcely any pleasure, but in the thing beloued. The glorious S. PAVLE reputed all things as durt or dung, in comparison of his Sauiour. And the sacred Spouse is entirely for her well-beloued. And if the soule that stands thus holily affe∣cted, meet with creaturs neuer so excellent, yea though they were Angels, she makes no delay with them, saue onely to be helped and aduanced in her desire. Tell me then, saieth she to them, tell me I coniure you: haue you not seene him, whom my heart loues? The glorious Louer MAGDELEN met the Angels at the sepul∣chre, who doubtlesse spoke to her angelically, that is, deliciously, desirous to appease her griefe, but contrariwise, wholy ruthfull, she could take no kind of content, neither in their milde words, nor in the glorie of their garments, nor in the hea∣uenly grace of their gesture, nor in the wholy lo∣uely beautie of their featurs, but couered with

tears, they haue taken away my Maister, saieth she, and I know not where they haue put him. And turning about she saw her sweete Sauiour, but in forme of a Gardener, wherein her heart cā∣not be at repose: for full with the loue of the death of her maister; flowres she will haue none, nor consequently Gardeners; she hath with in her heart the crosse, the nailes, the thornes, she seakes her crucified Lord: ah my deare Maister Gardener, saieth she, whether peraduenture haue you not planted my well-beloued deseased Lord, amongst your flowres as a Lillie, crusshed and withered? Tell me quickly, and I will carrie him away. But no sooner had he called her by her name, but wholy melting with delight. ô God, saieth she, maister! Nothing can content her, nor Angels cō∣panie delight he, no nor yet her Sauiours, vnlesse he appeare, in that forme in which he had stolne her heart. The kings could not content them∣selues, neither in Hierusalems goodlinesse, nor in the Courts magnificence, nor in the starres splen∣dour: Their hearts searching the little caue and child of Bethleem. The MOTHER OF FAIRE DILE∣CTION, and the Spouse of most holy Loue, cannot stay amongst their parents and friends, they still walke on in griefe, enquiring after the onely ob∣iect of their delight: The desire to encrease holy complacence, cuts of all other pleasure, to th'end it may with more feruour practise that, to which diuine beneuolence doth excite.

2. Now, more to magnifie the soueraigne well-beloued, the soule goes still pursuing his face, that is, with an attention daily more carefull and fer∣uent,

she notes euery particularitie of the beau∣ties, and perfections which are in him, making a continuall progresse in this pleasing inquirie of motiues, that might perpetually presse her to a greater complacence in the incomprehensible goodnesse which she loueth. So DAVID, in many of his heauenly Psalmes, doth cote by parcells the workes and wonders of God. And the sacred Spouse, rangeth in her diuine Canticles as a well ranked armie, all the perfections of her spouse in their order, to prouoke her soule, to a holy com∣placence, thereby more highly to magnifie his excellencie, and withall to winne euery crea∣ture, to the loue of her so louely a friend.

How holy Beneuolence doth produce the Diuine well-beloueds Praises. CHAPTER. VIII.

1. HOnour, my deare THEO: is not in him that is honoured, but in him that doth honour; for how ordinarie is it, that he whom we honour is ignorant, nor doth so much as thinke thereof: how oftē doe we praise such as knowes vs not, or doe sleepe; and yet according to the ordinarie esti∣mation of men, and their manner of conceiuing, it seemes that to doe one honour is to benefite him, and that in giuing him titles and honours we giue him much; and we sticke not to saie that a man is

rich in honour, glorie, reputation, praise; though indeede we know, that all this is out of the partie that is honoured, who oftentimes receiues no manner of profit therby, according to a saying, ascribed to great S. AVGVSTINE, O poore Ari∣stotle thou art praised where thou art not, and where thou art, thou art burnt. What fruite, I pray doe Cesar and Alexander the Great reape, of so many vaine words which a companie of vaine soules imploied in their praises?

2. God replenished with a goodnesse which doth surpasse all praise, and honour, receiues no aduantage or surplusage of good, by all the bene∣dictiōs which we giue him, he is neither richer nor greater, more content or more happie by them: for his happinesse, his content, greatnesse, and riches, neither are, or can be any other thing, then the diuine infinitie of his Goodnesse. Notwith∣standing because, according to our ordinarie ap∣prehension honour is held one of the greatest ef∣fectes of our beneuolence towards others, and that therby we doe not onely not presuppose those that we honour, in any want, but rather doe protest, that they abound in excellencie: we therefore make vse of this kind of beneuolēce to∣wards God, who doth not onely admit it, but exact it, as a thing conformable to our condition, and so proper to testifie the respectfull loue we beare him, that he hath ordained we should render, and yeeld all honour and glorie vnto him.

3. Thus then the soule who hath taken a great complacence in God's infinite perfection, seeing that she cannot wish him any encrease of good∣nesse,

because he hath infinitly more then she can either wish or conceiue, desires at least, that his name may be blessed, exalted, praised, honoured, and adored dayly more and more. And begin∣ning with her owne heart she ceaseth not to pro∣uoke it to this holy exercise: and as a sacred Bee flies hither and thither, amongst the flowers of the diuine workes and excellencies, gathering from them, a sweete varietie of complacences, whereof she works and composeth the honnie of heauenly benedictions, praises, and honourable confessions, by which as farre as she is able, she magnifies and glorifies the name of her well-beloued; following the great Psalmist, who hauing enuironed, and as it were in Spirite runne ouer the wōders of the diuine goodnesse, sacrificed vpon the Altar of his heart the mysticall Hoste of the out-cryes thereof in Canticles and Psalmes of admiration and Bene∣diction.

My heart flies here and there Borne vp on fancies winge, In admirations aire She heauenlily doth singe A Sacrifice of praise: And on the Harpe she plaies A BENEDICITE To Sions heauenly Kinge.

But, THEO: this desire of praising God, which ho∣ly Beneuolence doth excite in our hearts, is insa∣tiable: for the soule that is touched with it, would

wish to haue infinite praises to bestowe vpon her well-beloued, because she finds his per∣fections more then infinite: so that finding her selfe to fall farre short of her aime, she addes force to her affection, to praise, at least in some measure, this most praiseworthy goodnesse, and these en∣deauours of Beneuolence, are meruellously aug∣mented by complacence: for according as the soule finds God good, tasting more and more his sweetenesse and taking complacence in his infinit goodnesse, she would also raise higher his bene∣dictions and praises. And againe, as the soule wax∣eth hote, in praising the incomprehensible sweetenesse of her God, she enlargeth and dilateth the complacence she takes in him; and by this en∣largmēt she doth animate her selfe more earnestly to praise him. So that the affection of compla∣cence; and that of praise, by their reciprocall mo∣tions, and incitements, doe aduance one another with great and continuall encrease.

4. So Nightingales, according to Plinie, takes such complacence in their songes, that by reason of this complacence, for fiue dayes and fiue nightes long, they neuer leaue warbling, forcing them∣selues to sing better, in despight one of the other; so that when they chirpe the best, thy take a grea∣ter complacence, and this encrease of complacēce, carrieth them to force themselues to a better qua∣uering, augmenting in such sort their complacēce by their songe, and their songe by their compla∣cence, that often they are seene to fall downe dead spliting their weeseells with the violence of sin∣ging. Birdes worthy the faire name of Philomele,

sith they die in this sorte, of, and for the loue of melodie.

5. O God, THEOT: how the soule ardently pressed with affection to praise God, is touched with a dolour, greatly delicious, and a delight greatly dolorous, when after a thousand essaies of praises, she finds herselfe to come short: Alas! this poore Nightingale striues still to lance out her accents higher, and perfect her melodie, the better to sing the praises of her well-beloued. By how much more she praiseth, by so much she is more delighted in praising; and by how much greater her delight in praising is, by so much her displeasure is greater, that she cannot yet more praise him; and yet to find what content she can in this passion, she vseth all endeauours, and a∣midst them falls in languishment, as it happened to the most glorious S. FRANCIS, who in the plea∣sures he had to praise God, and sing his Canticles of loue, shed a great abundāce of teares, ād through faintnesse, let often fall what at such times he had in his hands: remaining in languishment, as a sacred Philomele, ād eftsones lost breath, in breathing af∣ter his praises whō he could neuer praise sufficiētly.

6. But marke a fine similitude vpon this sub∣iect, drawen from the name which this louing saint gaue his religious; for he called them Cy∣gales, by reason of the nightly praises they sunge to God. Cygales, THEO: haue their breasts set with pipes, as though they were naturall orgaines; and to sing the better they liue onely of dewe, which they take not by the beake for they haue none, but sucke it by a certaine weesel they haue in

the midst of their stomacke by which also they sed out their tunes, with such a noyse that they seeme to be nothing but voice. Now this is the state of the sacred Louer; for all the faculties of her soule are as so many pipes which she hath in her breast, to resound the well-beloued's Cāticles ād praises. Her deuotion in the midst is the tongue of her heart, according to S. BERNARD, by which she re∣ceiues the dew of diuine perfections, sucking and drawing them to her, as her foode, by the most holy complacence which she takes in them; and by the same tongue of deuotion, she tunes all her praiers, Praises, Canticles, Psalmes, Benedi∣ctions, according to the testimonie of one of the most famous spirituall Cygales, that euer was heard, who sunge thus.

Blesse Sions King my Soule, Inflamed with heauenly flame; My powers, my thoughts and all, Cease not to speake his name.

For is it not, as though he had saied, I am a mysti∣call Cygale, my soule, my spirits, my thoughtes, all the faculties that are met together within me, are organes. Let all these for euer blesse the name, and resound the praises of my God.

Summing vp thyne endlesse glorie, I'le spinne out an endlesse storie, In singing onely which; I'le rest: And thou Myne Aide shalt pleasure take

To heare it for thy Mercies sake And helpe a sillie heart oppress't.

How Beneuolence makes vs inuoke all Creaturs to God's praise. CHAPTER. IX.

1. THe heart that is taken and pressed with a desire of praising the Diuine Goodnesse more then it is able, after many endeauours, goes often times out of it selfe to inuite all Creaturs to helpe it in it's designe. As did the three children in the furnace, in that admirable Canticle of Benedictions, by which they excite all that is in Heauen, in earth and vnder the earth to render thankes to the Eternall God, in Blessing and praising him soueraignely: as also the glorious Psalmist, wholy moued by a holily irregular pas∣sion to praise God, goes without order leaping from heauen to earth, from thence to heauen a∣gaine, inuoking pel-mel, Angels, fishes, moun∣taines, Waters, Dragons, Birdes, Serpents, Fire, Haile, Fogges, assembling by his desires all crea∣turs; to th'end that they all might conspire piously to magnifie their Creatour. Some in their owne persōs, celebrating the diuine praise, others affording matter of praise, by the wōders of their differrent proprieties, which manifest their ma∣kers power; so that this diuine royall Psalmist, ha∣uing

composed a great number of Psalmes, with this inscription Praise God, after he had rūne through all the creaturs, holily inuiting them to blesse the diuine Maiestie, and passed ouer a great varietie of meanes and instruments fit to celebrate the praises of this eternall Bountie, in the end as falling downe through shortenesse of breath, he closeth his sacred song with this, Eiaculation. Let euery spirit praise our Lord, that is, let all that hath life, nor liue, nor breath but to blesse their Creatour, following the encou∣ragement he had elsewhere giuen.

VVith high and animated straine Let's striue to celebrate amaine Euen who can best, th-Eternall's fame. Let shirlest voice awakt by Loue, Beare vp the starrie vaults aboue The Peeleresse glorie of his name.

So the great S. FRANCIS soung the Canticle of the Sunne, and a thousand other excellent bene∣dictions, to inuoke the creaturs to aide his lan∣guishing heart, in that he could not, according to his desire praise the deare Sauiour of his heart. So the heauenly Spouse perceiuing her selfe almost to sound amidst the violent essaies she vsed in bles∣sing, and magnifying the well-beloued king of her heart; ah! cried she out to her companions; the diuine Spouse, hath led me by contemplation into his wine-celler, making me taste the incom∣parable delightes of the perfections of his excel∣lencie,

and I haue so moistened and holily inebria∣ted my selfe, by the holy complacence which I tooke in this abisse of beautie, that my soule lan∣guisheth, wounded with a louingly mortall desire, which vrgeth me euerlastīgly to praise a goodnesse eminent. Come alas I beseech you to the succour of my poore heart, which is vpon the point of fal∣ling downe dead. For pitie susteine it, and vn∣derprope it with flowres; solace it, and enuirone it with aples, or else it will fall in a trance. Compla∣cence drawes the diuine sweetes into her heart, which doth so ardently fill it selfe thereof that it is ouer charged. But the LOVE OF BENEVOLENCE makes our heart sallie out of it selfe, and spend it selfe in vapours of delicious perfumes, that is, in all kinds of holy praises. And yet not being able to doe it with the aduantage which it desires, ô saieth it, let all creaturs come and contribute the flowres of their benedictions, their aples of thankesgiuings, honours, and adorations, so that on euery side we may smell odours poured out to his glorie, whose infinite sweetenesse doth passe all honour, and whom we can neuer worthily enough magnifie.

2. It is this diuine passion, that brings out so many sermons; makes the Zaueriuses the Berzeses the Antonies, with a number of Iesuites, Capu∣cins, and Religious and other Churchmen of all sorts passe the pikes in India, Iaponia, Maraig to th'end the holy name of IESVS may be knowen, acknowledged, and adored through out that vaste nation. It is this holy passion which penns so ma∣ny spirituall bookes, build's so many churches,

altars, and pious houses: and to conclud, which makes so many of God's seruants, watch, labour, and die, in the flames of Zeale which doe consume and spend them.

How the desire we haue to praise God makes vs aspire to heauen. CHAPTER. X.

1. THe soule in Loue perceiuing that she cā∣not saciate the desire she hath to praise her well-beloued, while she liues in the miseries of this world, and knowing that the praises which are giuen in heauen to the diuine goodnesse, are sunge in an aire, incomparably more delightfull; ô God, saieth she, how praiseworthie the praises are, which are poured fourth by those blessed spirits, before the throne of my heauenly king; how blessed are their blessings: ô what a happi∣nesse is it to heare this melodie of the most holy eternitie, where the delicious concurrence of vn∣like and wholy different voices, doth make these admirable accords, wherein all the parts redoub∣ling one vpon another by a continued succession and an incomprehensible combination and pur∣sute, perpetuall Allelui'as doe resound from eue∣ry side.

2. Voices which for their sound are compared to thunder, trumpets, or to the noyse of a trou∣bled

seas waues: yet voices, which for their in∣comparable delight and sweetenesse are compared to the melodie of harpes, delicatly, and deliciously touched by a most skillfull hand. And voices which doe all accord in one to sing the ioyfull Pascall Cāticle ALLELVIA, praise God, Amē praise God: for know, THEO: that there is a voice heard from the diuine Throne, which ceaseth not to crie to the happie inhabitants of the glorious heauenly Hierusalem, Praise God ô you that are his seruants, and you that feare him great and little, at which all the innumerable multitude of Saints, the quires of Angels, and men with one consent, doe answere in singing with all their force. ALLELVIA, praise God. But what is this admirable voice, which issuing out from the diuine Throne, doth announce the ALLELVIAS to the Elect, if not the most holy complacence, which being re∣ceiued into the heart makes them feele the sweete∣nesse of the Diuine perfections, wherevpon a lo∣uing beneuolence, the source of heauenly praises, is bred in thē, so that complacence cōming from the Throne, intimateth Gods greatnesse to the Blessed, and beneuolence excites them mutually to pouer out the odours of praise before the Throne. And so by way of answere they eternally sing ALLELVIA, that is praise God. The complacence come frō the Throne into the heart, and Beneuolence goes from the Throne.

3. O how amiable is this TEMPLE wholy

resounding with praise! ô what content haue such as liue in this sacred Residence, where so many heauenly Philomels and Nightingails, doe sing with strife of loue, the Canticles of eternall de∣light!

4. The heart then, that in this world can nei∣ther sing nor heare the diuine praises to it's liking, falls into incredible desires, of being deliuered from the bands of this life, to passe to the other, where the heauenly well-beloued is so perfectly praised: and these desires hauing taken possession of the heart, doe often times become so strōg and powrefull in the heauenly Louers heart that bani∣shīg all other desires, they make all terreane thīgs disgustfull, and render the soule languishing, and loue-sicke; yea sometimes the holy passion goes so farre, as if God permitted, one would die of it.

5. So the glorious and Seraphicall Louer S. FRANCIS, hauing bene long wrought with this strong affection of praising God; in the end, to∣wards his death, after he had had assurance by a speciall Reuelation, of his eternall saluation, he could not conteine his ioye, but waisted dayly, as if his life and soule, had fumed out like incense, vpon the flamme of ardent desires, which he had to see his Maister, incessantly to praise him. So that these flames dayly encreasing, his soule left his bo∣die, by a force which he made towards heauen: for it was thought good to the Diuine prouidence, that he should die pronoūcing these sacred words; O Lord drawe my soule out of this prison, to the end I may praise thy holy name, the iuste expects

me till thou restorest vnto me, my desired repose. Behold, THEO: I beseech you this soule, who as a heauenly Nightingale shut vp in the cage of his bodie, in which it cannot at wish sing the benedi∣ctions of his eternall loue, knowes that he could better recorde and practise his melodious ditties, if he could gaine the aire, enioye the freedome and societie of other Philomels amongst the gaie and flowrie hillockes of the Land of the Blessed; and thence he cries alas! o Lord of my life, ah! by thy wholy sweete bountie, deliuer my pouertie out of the cage of my bodie, free me from this little pri∣son, to th'end that released from this bondage I may flie to my deare companions who expect me aboue in heauen, to make me one of their Quiers, and enuirone me with their ioye, the Almightie according my voice to theirs, I with them will make vp a sweete harmonie, of de∣licious aires, and accēts, singing, praising, and bles∣sing thy mercy. This admirable Saint as an Ora∣tor who would end and cōclude all he had saied, in some short sentence, made this the happie periode of all his wishes and desires, whereof these last words were a Breefe. Words to which his soule was so fixed, that in breathing them, he breathed his last. My God, THEO: what a sweete and deare death was this! a happily louing death, a ho∣lily mortall loue.

How we practise the LOVE OF BE∣NEVOLENCE in the praises which our Sauiour and his mother giue to God. CHAPTER. XI.

1. VVE ascend then stepe by stepe in this holy exercise, by the creaturs which we inuite to praise God, passing from the sensible to the reasonable and intellectuall, and from the Church militant to the triumphant, in which we raise our selues vp to the Angels and Saints, till aboue them all we haue met with the most sacred virgin, who in a matchlesse manner doth praise and magnifie the Diuinitie, more highly, holily, and deliciously, then all the other creaturs together are able.

2. Being two yeares agoe at Milan, whither the veneration of the fresh memorie of the great Archbishope S. CHARLES had drawen me, with certaine of our Church-men, we heard in diuers Churches, diuers sorts of musike: but in a Mona∣sterie of Nunnes, we heard a Religious woman whose voice was so admirably delicious, that she alone, filled our minds with more delight incom∣parably then all the rest together, which though otherwise excellent, yet seemed they to serue one∣ly to giue luster, and raise the perfection and grace

of this singular voice. So, THEO: amongst all the Quires of men and Angels, the most sacred Vir∣gine's loftie voice is heard, which raised aboue all, renders more praise to God, then doe all the o∣ther creaturs. And indeede the Heauenly king inuites her to sing, in a particular manner: shew me thy face, saieth he, my well-beloued, let thy voice sound in my eares, for thy voice is entirely sweete and thy face wholy faire.

3. But the praises which this Mother of ho∣nour and faire dilection together with all the crea∣turs giues to the Diuinitie, though excellent and admirable, come yet so short of the infinite merite of Gods goodnesse, that they carrie no propor∣tion with it: and therefore, albeit they meruel∣lously please the louing heart's holy beneuolence to the well-beloued, yet doe they not saciate it. Wherefore it goes forward and inuites our Sa∣uiour to praise and glorifie his eternall Father, with all the Benedictions which a Sonnes loue can fournish him withall. And then, THEO: the soule is put to silence, being able onely to admire. O what a Canticle is this of the Sonne to his Father! ô how faire this deare well-beloued is amongst all the children of men! ô how sweete is his voice, as issuing from the lipps vpon which the fulnesse of grace was poured! All the others are perfu∣med, but he is the perfume it selfe; the others are embaumed, but he is Baulme poured out: the eternall receiues others praises, as smells of pecu∣liar flowres, but vpon the odour of the praises which our Sauiour giues him, doubtlesse he cries out: ô these are the odours of my sonns praises,

as the odour of a field full of flowres which I haue blessed! I, my deare THEO: all the Benedictions which the Church militant and triumphant offers to God, are Angelicall and humane benedictions; for beit, they are addressed to the Creatour, yet proceede they from a Creature: but the Sonns, are diuine, for they doe not onely tend to God, as the others, but they flow from God; the Redeemour being true God, they are not onely diuine in res∣pect of their end, but of their beginning: diuine, because they tend to God; diuine, because they issue from God. God prouokes the soule, endew∣ing her with sufficient grace for the production of other praises; But the Redeemour, being God, produceth his owne, himselfe, and thence they are infinite.

4. He that in a morning for a good space ha∣uing heard in the neighbour woods the sweete chaunting of a great companie of Canarie birdes, Linnets, Goldfinches, and such like little birdes, should in the end heare a Maister Nightingale, who in perfect melodie, would fill the aire, and eare with her admirable voice, doubtlesse he would preferre this one grouie Chaunter, before the whole Quires of the others. So hauing heard all the praises which so many different sorts of of creaturs, in emulation of one another, renders vnanimously to their Creatour, when at length one markes that of our Sauiour, they find in it a certaine infinitie of merite, valour, sweetenesse, which passe all hope, and expectation of heart: and the soule, as awaked out of a deepe sleepe, is then sodenly rauished with extreamitie of the sweete∣nesse

of that melodie. ah! I heare it; ô the voice, the voice of my well-beloued! The Queene-voice of all voices, a voice, in comparison wherof all the other voices are but a dume and sad silence. See how this deare friend doth spring out, see how he comes tripping ouer the mountaines, transcending the hills: his voice is heard aboue the Seraphins and all other creaturs; he hath the sight of a Goate, to penetrate deeper then any other, the beautie of the Sacred obiect which he desires to praise. He loues the melodie of the glorie, and praise of his Father, more then all the rest, and therefore he takes his Fathers praises, and bene∣dictions in a straine aboue them all. Behold this diuine loue of the Beloued, as he is clothed in his humanitie, making hīselfe to be seene through the holes of his wounds, and his open side, as by win∣dowes, and as by lattises, by which he lookes vpon vs.

5. Yes The: Diuine Loue being seated vpon our Sauiours heart as vpon his royall Throne, be∣holds through the passage of his pearced side, all the hearts of the sonnes of mē: for this heart being the king of hearts, keepes his eye still fixed vpon hearts. But as those that looke through a lattise, doe plainely discouer others and yet are not plain∣ly discouered; So the diuine loue of this heart, or rather this heart of diuine Loue, doth continual∣ly discouer our hearts clearely and lookes vpon them with the eye of affection, yet doe not we dis∣couer him clearely, but onely by halfes. For Good God, if we could see him, as he is, we should die of Loue for him, being we are mortalls, as he him∣selfe

died for vs, while he was mortall; and as he would yet die, if he were not immortall. O that we could heare this diuine heart, how it sings with an infinitly delicious voice, songs of praise to the Diuinitie! what ioye, THEO: what force would our hearts make, to flie vp to heauen, to heare these songs eternally: and verily this deare friend of our hearts, inuits vs vnto it. Vp, rise, saieth he, goe out of thy selfe, take thy flight to∣wards me, my doue, my most faire, to this hea∣uenly Mannour, where there is nothing but ioye, and nothing is heard but praise and benedictions. All there is florishing, all is sweete and odorife∣rous: The Turtle which is the most dolefull of all birds, is heard to sing in that Land. Come my entirely deare beloued, and that thou maiest see me more clearely, come in at the same windowes by which I behold thee. Come and consider my heart in the hole of my open side, which was made when my bodie, as a ruinous building, was so ruthfully dight vpon the tree of the Crosse; come and shew me thy face. I see it now, nor dost thou shew it me; then, I shall see it, and thou shal't shew it me: for thou shal'st see, that I see thee. Let me heare thy voice; for I will tune it to myne, and so thy face shall be faire, and thy voice well tuned. O what a delight shall it be vnto our hearts, when our voices being tuned and accor∣ded to our Sauiours, we shall beare a part in the infinitly delicious praises which the beloued Sōne sings to his eternall Father.

Of the soueraigne praise which God giues vnto himselfe, and how we exer∣cise BENEVOLENCE in it. CHAPTER. XII.

1. All our Sauiours humane actions are of an infinite merite and value, by reason of the person which doth produce them, which is the same God with the Father, and the holy Ghost, yet are they not infinite by nature and essence. For as being in a Chamber, we receiue not light with proportion to the Sonns brightnesse, which strea∣mes it out, but according to the greatnesse of the window, by which it is communicated; so our Sa∣uiours humane actions, are not infinite, though in∣deede they be of infinite value; foralbeit they are the actions of a diuine Person, yet are they not produced according to the extent of his infinitie, but accordīg to the finite greatnesse of his huma∣nitie, by which they are produced. So that, as the humane actions of our sweete Sauiour, are infinite compared to ours, so are they onely finite in com∣parison of the essentiall infinitie of the Diuinitie. They are infinite in value, estimation, and dignitie as proceeding from a person which is God; yet are they finite by nature and essence, as being pro∣duced of God according to his humane nature and substance, which is finite, and therefore the praises which are giuen by our Sauiour, as he is

man, not being in all respects infinite cannot fully correspōd to the infinite greatnesse of the Diuini∣tie, to which they are directed.

2. Wherefore after the first rauishment of ad∣miration which doth take vs, whē we meete with a praise so glorious, as is that which our Sauiour renders to his Father, we leaue, not to auowe, that the Diuinitie is yet infinitly more praise-wor∣thy, thē it can be praised, either by all the creaturs, or by the very humanitie of the eternall Sonne.

3. If one did praise the Sunne for its light, the more he should set a praising it, the more he should find it praise-worthy, because he should still discouer more and more brightnesse. And if as it is very probable, it be the beautie of this light, which prouoketh the Larke to singe, it is not strang that as she flies more loftily, she sings more clearely, equally raising her voice and her flight, till such time as heardly being able so sing any more, she begins to fall in voice and bo∣die, stouping by little and little, as from her winge, so in her voice. So THEO: as we mount nee∣rer vnto the Diuinitie by Beneuolence to intone and heare the praises thereof, we discouer more clearely, that his praise is still aboue our notes. And finally, we learne that it cannot be praised according to the worth saue onely by it selfe, which alone can fit its soueraigne goodnesse with a soueraigne praise. Herevpon we crie out, GLO∣RIE BE VNTO THE FATHER, AND THE SONNE, AND TO THE HOLY GHOST: and that euery one may know that it is not the glorie of created praises, which we wish should be giuen to God,

by this eiaculation, but the essentiall and eternall glorie that is in himselfe, by himselfe, of himselfe, and which is himselfe, we adde; as it was in the begining, so now, and shall be for euer and euer AM••N: As though we should wish; That God should be glorified for euer, with the glorie which he had before all creaturs, in his infinit eternitie, and eternall infinitie. To this purpose we conclud euery Psalme and Canticle with this verse, accor∣ding to the auncient custome of the Easterne Church, which the great S. HIEROME, supplica∣ted to the Pope Damasus, that he would esta∣blishe it here in the west to protest, that all the praises of men and Angels, are too low, to reach home to the Diuine Bounties praise: and that to be worthily praised, he himselfe is to be his owne glorie, praise, and benediction.

4. O God what a Complacence, what a ioye shall it be to the soule to haue her desire fulfilled, in seeing her Beloued infinitly praise, blesse and magnifie himselfe! But from this Complacence there springs a new desire of praise: for the soule would gladly praise this so worthy a praise giuen to God by himselfe, rendring him heartie thankes for it, ād inuoking againe all things to her succour to come and glorifie the glorie of God with her, to blesse his infinit blessings, and praise his eter∣ternall praises, so that by this repetition and re∣doubling praises vpon praises, she engageth her selfe betwixt Complacence and Beneuolence, in a most happie Labirinth of loue being wholy drunk vp and drowned in this immense sweetenesse, soue∣raignely praising the Diuinitie, in that, that it

cānot be sufficiently be praised but by it selfe. And though in the beginning the soule in loue had conceiued a certaine desire of praising God suffi∣ciently; yet reflecting vpon her selfe againe, she protests that she would not wish to haue power to praise him sufficiently, but remaines in a most humble Complacence, to perceiue that the Di∣uine Goodnesse is so infinitly praise-worthy, that it cannot be sufficiently praised, saue by its owne infinitie onely.

5. And here, the soule rauished with admira∣tion, sings the song of sacred silence.

Vnto thy peerlesse worth Silence doth sing, Th'Hymne of Admiration O Sion's Kinge.

For so Isaie his Seraphins, adoring and praising God, vayled their faces and feete, confessing therein theire want of sufficiencie, sufficiently to contemplate or serue him: for our feete, whereon we goe, signifies seruice. Howbeit they flie with two wings in the continuall motion of Compla∣cence and Beneuolence, their Loue resting in that delightfull vnrest.

6. Mans heart is neuer so much disquieted as when the motion, by which it doth continually open and shut it selfe is troubled; neuer so quiet as when its motions are free, so that the hearts quiet consisteth in motion. The like it is with the Seraphins, and Seraphicall men; for their Loue

reposeth in the motion of it's complacence, by which it draws God clerely into it selfe; and in the motion of Beneuolence, by which it doth dilate and throw it selfe into God. This Loue then desires to behold the infinite wonders of God's goodnesse, yet it spreeds it's wings ouer it's face, confessing that it cannot arriue thi∣ther. It would also present some worthy ser∣uice, yet hath it's feete couered to professe that it hath not power to performe it, nor doth any thing remaine sauing the two wings of Com∣placence and Beneuolence, by which it flies vp, and casts it selfe vpon God.

The end of the fift Booke.