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Sermon 1

The eternal birth of the Word in the soul

Sermon 1 (Evans numbering). On Wisdom 18:14 (as he gives it: Sap. 18, 4)

In brief

This is one of Eckhart's best known sermons. He takes a line from the Book of Wisdom about a secret word spoken in the midst of silence and reads it as a picture of something happening inside every person: the eternal birth in which God the Father speaks his Word. Eckhart says this birth is more than just a story about Christmas. It is something that either happens in you now or does not happen at all.

He asks three plain questions. Where in a person does this birth take place? What should a person do to let it happen? And what good does it do? His answers point away from effort and image-making and toward a kind of inner stillness, what he calls the ground of the soul, where no creature and no mental picture can go. Only God reaches that far in.

In plain English

Sermon 1

Dum medium silentium tenerent omnia et nox in suo cursu medium iter haberet etc. (Wisdom 18:14). "For while all things were in quiet silence and the night was in the midst of her course, etc." Here in time we make holiday because the eternal birth which God the Father bore and bears unceasingly in eternity is now born in time, in human nature. St. Augustine says this birth is always happening. But if it does not happen in me, what good does it do me? What matters is that it happens in me.

We intend therefore to speak of this birth as taking place in us, as being brought to completion in the virtuous soul, for it is in the perfect soul that God speaks his Word. What I shall say is true only of the perfected person, of one who has walked and is still walking in the way of God, not of the natural, undisciplined person who is entirely remote from and unaware of this birth.

There is a saying of the wise man: "While all things lay in the midst of silence, there leapt down into me from on high, from the royal throne, a secret word." This sermon is about this word.

Concerning it, three things are to be noted. The first is, whereabouts in the soul God the Father speaks his Word, where she is receptive of this act, where this birth takes place. It must be in the purest, loftiest, subtlest part of the soul. Truly, if God the Father in his omnipotence had given the soul a still nobler nature, if she had received from him anything yet more exalted, then the Father would have had to delay this birth for the sake of this greater excellence. The soul in which this birth is to happen must be absolutely pure and must live gently, quite peaceful and wholly turned inward: not running out through the five senses into the manyness of creatures, but altogether within and gathered at her summit. That is its place. Anything lower is beneath it.

The second part of this discourse has to do with how a person should act in relation to this act, this interior speaking, this birth: whether it is more useful to cooperate in it, perhaps by forming in the mind an imagined picture and training oneself on it by reflecting that God is wise, all-powerful, eternal, or whatever else one can think up about God, so that the birth comes about in us through our own effort and merit; or whether it is more useful and more helpful to this birth from the Father to avoid all thoughts, words, and deeds as well as all mental pictures, and to empty oneself, keeping a wholly God-receptive stance, such that one's own self is idle, letting God work. Which way of acting serves this birth best?

The third point is the gain, and how great it is, that comes from this birth.

Note first that in what I am about to say I intend to use natural proofs that you yourselves can grasp, for though I trust the scriptures more than myself, still it is easier and better for you to learn by arguments that can be checked.

First we will take the words: "In the midst of the silence there was spoken in me a secret word."

But, sir, where is the silence, and where is the place in which the word is spoken?

As I just said, it is in the purest part of the soul, in the noblest part, in her ground, indeed in the very essence of the soul. That is the mid-silence, for into it no creature ever got, nor any image, nor does the soul there have either activity or understanding, so she is not aware of any image, either of herself or of any creature. Whatever the soul does, she does with her powers. When she understands, she understands with her intellect. When she remembers, she does so with her memory. When she loves, she does so with her will. So she works with her powers and not with her essence. Now every outward act is tied to some means. The power of seeing is used only through the eyes; nowhere else can she either do or give such a thing as seeing. So it is with all the other senses: their workings are always carried out through some means or other. But in the essence of the soul there is no activity; the faculties she works with come out of the ground of the essence, but in her actual ground there is mid-stillness. Here alone is rest and a dwelling place for this birth, this act, in which God the Father speaks his Word, for it is by nature receptive only of the divine essence itself, without means. Here God enters the soul with his whole self, not merely with a part. God enters the ground of the soul. No one can touch the ground of the soul but God alone. No creature is let into her ground, it must stay outside in her powers. There it sees the image by which it was drawn in and found shelter. For when the soul's powers meet a creature, they set about making of the creature an image and likeness, which they take in. By this image they know the creature. Creatures cannot enter the soul, nor can the soul know anything about a creature of which she has not willingly taken the image into herself. She approaches creatures through their present images, an image being something the soul makes with her powers. Whether it is a stone, a rose, a person, or anything else she wants to know about, she brings out the image of it that she has already taken in, and is thereby able to unite herself with it. But an image received in this way must necessarily enter from outside through the senses. So there is nothing so unknown to the soul as herself. The soul, says a philosopher, can neither make nor take in an image of herself. So she has nothing to know herself by. Images all enter through the senses, so she can have no image of herself. She knows other things but not herself. Of nothing does she know so little as of herself, because of this arrangement. Now you must know that inwardly the soul is free of means and images, and that is why God can freely unite with her without form or likeness. You cannot help but attribute to God, without limit, whatever power you attribute to a master. The wiser and more powerful the master, the more directly his work is done and the simpler it is. A person needs many tools for outward works; much preparation is needed before he can bring them forth as he has imagined them. The sun and moon, whose work is to give light, carry out their mastery very quickly: the instant their radiance pours forth, all the ends of the world are full of light. Higher still are the angels, who need fewer means for their works and have fewer images. The highest Seraph has but a single image. He grasps as one thing all that those below him see as many. Now God needs no image and has no image: without image, likeness, or means does God work in the soul, indeed in her ground, into which no image ever got, but only himself with his own essence. This no creature can do.

How does God the Father give birth to his Son in the soul, as creatures do, in image and likeness?

No, by my faith! But just as he gives him birth in eternity, and in no other way.

Well, but how does he give him birth there?

See, God the Father has perfect insight into himself, deep and thorough knowledge of himself by means of himself, not by means of any image. And thus God the Father gives birth to his Son, in the very oneness of the divine nature. Mark, it is in this way and no other that God the Father gives birth to his Son in the ground and essence of the soul, and thus he unites himself with her. If any image were present there would not be real union, and in real union lies your whole happiness.

Now perhaps you will say: "But there is nothing innate in the soul except images." No, that is not so! If that were true the soul would never be happy, for God cannot make any creature in which you can enjoy perfect happiness, otherwise God would not be the highest happiness and final goal, whereas it is his will and nature to be the alpha and omega of all things. No creature can be happiness. And here too there can just as little be perfection, for perfection, that is perfect virtue, comes from perfection of life. So truly you must dwell and abide in your essence, in your ground, and there God will mingle you with his simple essence without the means of any image. No image stands for and signifies itself: it stands for that of which it is the image. Now since you have no image except of what is outside you, it is therefore impossible for you to be made happy by any image whatsoever.

The second point is, what a person must do to deserve and bring about this birth taking place and being completed in him: is it better for him to do his part toward it, to imagine and think about God, or should he keep still in peace and quiet so that God can speak and act in him while he simply waits on God's working? At the same time I repeat that this speaking, this act, is only for the good and the perfect, those who have so taken in and made their own the essence of virtue that it flows out of them naturally, without their seeking it; and above all there must live in them the worthy life and high teaching of our Lord Jesus Christ. Such people are allowed to know that the very best and furthest attainment in this life is to remain still and let God act and speak in you. When the powers have all been withdrawn from their bodily forms and functions, then this Word is spoken. So he says: "in the midst of the silence the secret word was spoken to me." The more completely you are able to draw in your faculties and forget those things and their images that you have taken in, that is, the more you forget the creature, the nearer you are to this and the more open you are to it. If only you could suddenly become altogether unaware of things, indeed could pass into forgetfulness of your own existence as St. Paul did when he said: "Whether in the body I know not, or out of the body I know not, God knows!" Here the spirit had so entirely absorbed the faculties that it had forgotten the body: memory no longer worked, nor understanding, nor the senses, nor even those powers whose task it is to govern and grace the body; bodily warmth and energy were held back so that the body suffered no harm through the three days during which he neither ate nor drank. So too it went with Moses when he fasted forty days on the mountain and was none the worse for it: on the last day he was as strong as on the first. Thus a person must withdraw from his senses, turn his faculties inward, and fall into forgetfulness of things and of himself. On this a philosopher spoke to the soul: "Withdraw from the restlessness of outward activities!" And again: "Flee away and hide yourself from the turmoil of outward doings and inward thoughts, for they create nothing but discord!" If God is to speak his Word in the soul, she must be at rest and at peace; then he speaks in the soul his Word, giving her his very self directly, with no image standing between. Dionysius says: "God has no image or likeness of himself, since he is by nature all good, truth, and being." God does all his works, in himself and outside himself, at the same time. Do not imagine that God, when he created the heavens and the earth and all creatures, made one thing one day and another the next. Moses describes it that way, it is true, yet he knew better: he did so only for the sake of those who are unable to understand or conceive it otherwise. All God did was: he willed, and they were. God works without instrument and without image. And the freer you are from images, the more open you are to his inward working; and the more turned inward and forgetful you are, the nearer you are to it. Dionysius urged his disciple Timothy in this sense, saying:

"Dear son Timothy, with an untroubled mind lift yourself up above yourself and above your powers, above all modes and all existences, into the secret, still darkness, so that you may come to the knowledge of the unknown, super-divine God." All things must be left behind. God scorns to work among images.

Now you may ask: what does God do without images, in the ground and essence? That I cannot know, for my soul's powers can only receive in images. They must recognize and grasp each thing in its own proper image: they cannot recognize a bird in the image of a man. Since all images enter from outside, this is hidden from my soul, and that is best for her. Not knowing makes her wonder and sends her in eager pursuit, for she knows clearly that it is, but not how or what it is. As soon as a person knows the reason for a thing, he grows tired of it at once and starts looking around for something new. Always wanting to know, he never stays still. The soul stays faithful only to this unknowing knowing that keeps her pursuing.

The wise man said of this: 'In the middle of the night, when all things were in quiet silence, a hidden word was spoken to me.' It came like a thief, by stealth. What does he mean by a word that was hidden? The nature of a word is to reveal what is hidden. It appeared before me, shining out to reveal itself, giving me knowledge of God. That is why it is called a word. But what it was remained hidden from me. That was its stealthy coming, in a whispering stillness, to reveal itself. It is precisely because it is hidden that one is, and must be, always after it. It appears and disappears: we are meant to yearn and sigh for it.

St Paul says we ought to pursue this until we catch sight of it, and not stop until we grasp it. When he came back after being caught up into the third heaven, where God was made known to him and where he saw all things, he had forgotten nothing, but it lay so deep in his ground that his intellect could not reach it: it stayed veiled from him. So he had to pursue it and search for it in himself, not outside himself. It is not outside, it is inside: wholly within. And being sure of this he said, 'I am certain that neither death nor any affliction can separate me from what I find within me.'

There is a good saying from one pagan philosopher to another about this. He says: 'I am aware of something in me that sparkles in my intelligence; I clearly sense that it is something, but I cannot grasp it. Yet I think that if I could only seize it, I would know all truth.' The other philosopher answered: 'Follow it boldly! For if you can seize it you will possess the sum of all good and have eternal life!' St Augustine says much the same: 'I am aware of something within me that plays before my soul, like a light dancing in front of it; if this were brought to steadiness and completion in me, it would surely be eternal life!' It hides yet it shows itself. It comes, but like a thief, meaning to take and steal everything from the soul. By emerging and showing itself a little, it means to draw the soul toward itself, to rob it and take itself away from it. As the prophet says: 'Lord, take from them their spirit, and give them instead your spirit.' This too is what the loving soul meant when she said: 'My soul dissolved and melted away when Love spoke his word; when he entered I could not help but fail.' And Christ meant the same thing by his words: 'Whoever leaves anything for my sake will be repaid a hundredfold, and whoever wants to possess me must deny himself and all things, and whoever wants to serve me must follow me and no longer go after his own way.'

Now perhaps you will say: But sir, you want to change the natural course of the soul! It is her nature to take things in through the senses, in images. Do you want to overturn this arrangement?

No! But how do you know what nobility God has given to human nature, what perfections are still uncatalogued, still undiscovered? Those who have written about the nobility of the soul have gone no further than their natural intelligence could take them: they never entered her ground, so much stayed hidden and unknown to them. 'I will sit in silence and listen to what God speaks within me,' said the prophet. Into this retreat the Word steals in the darkness of the night. St John says, 'The light shines in the darkness: it came to its own, and as many as received it became, with authority, sons of God: to them was given power to become God's sons.'

Notice now the fruit and use of this hidden Word and of this darkness. In this darkness, which is his own, the heavenly Father's Son is not born alone: you too are born there, a child of the same heavenly Father and no other, and to you also he gives this power. See how great the use of it is. No truth learned by any master through his own intellect and understanding, and none that will ever be learned this side of the day of judgment, has ever matched this knowledge, in this ground. Call it, if you like, an ignorance, an unknowing, yet there is more in it than in all knowing and understanding without it, for this outward ignorance draws you and pulls you away from all things that can be understood, and from yourself. This is what Christ meant when he said: 'Whoever does not deny himself, and leave father and mother, and become a stranger to all these, is not worthy of me.' As if to say: whoever does not give up the externals of created things can neither be conceived nor born in this divine birth. But stripping yourself of yourself and of everything outside it does indeed give you this. And truly I believe, no, I am certain, that the person who is established in this can never, at any time, be separated from God. I hold that he can in no way fall into mortal sin. He would rather suffer the most shameful death, as the saints have done before him, than commit the least mortal sin. I hold that he cannot willingly commit, or even consent to, even a venial sin, whether in himself or in another. So strongly is he drawn and pulled toward this way, so deeply is he used to it, that he could never turn to any other: all his senses, all his powers, are directed to this way.

May the God who was born again as man help us in this birth, helping us without end, weak as we are, to be born again in him as God. Amen.

Plain-English version by Gregory Lahn, from C. de B. Evans's translation of Franz Pfeiffer's edition (London, 1924), which is in the public domain.

Read the 1924 translation

THIS IS MEISTER ECKHART FROM WHOM GOD NOTHING HID

Dum medium silentium tenerent omnia et nox in suo cursu medium iter haberet etc. (Sap. 18, 4). For while all things were in quiet silence and the night was in the midst of her course, etc. Here in time we make holiday because the eternal birth which God the Father bore and bears unceasingly in eternity is now born in time, in human nature. St Augustine says this birth is always happening. But if it happen not in me what does it profit me? What matters is that it shall happen in me.

We intend therefore to speak of this birth as taking place in us: as being consummated in the virtuous soul: for it is in the perfect soul that God speaks his Word. What I shall say is true only of the perfected man, of him who has walked and is still walking in the way of God: not of the natural undisciplined man who is entirely remote from and unconscious of this birth.

There is a saying of the wise man: 'When all things lay in the midst of silence then leapt there down into me from on high, from the royal throne, a secret word.' This sermon is about this word.

Concerning it three things are to be noted. The first is, whereabouts in the soul God the Father speaks his Word, where she is receptive of this act, where this birth befalls. It is bound to be in the purest, loftiest, subtlest part of the soul. Verily, an God the Father in his omnipotence had endowed the soul with a still nobler nature, had she received from him anything yet more exalted, then must the Father have delayed this birth for the presence of this greater excellence. The soul in which this birth shall come to pass must be absolutely pure and must live in gentle fashion, quite peaceful and wholly introverted: not running out through the five senses into the manifoldness of creatures, but altogether within and harmonised in her summit. That is its place. Anything inferior is disdained by it.

The second part of this discourse has to do with man's conduct in relation to this act, this interior speaking, this birth: whether it is more profitable to co-operate in it, perhaps by creating in the mind an imaginary image and disciplining oneself thereon by reflecting that God is wise, omnipotent, eternal, or whatever else one is able to excogitate about God -- so that the birth may come to pass in us through our own exertion and merit; or whether it is more profitable and conducive to this birth from the Father to shun all thoughts, words and deeds as well as all mental images and empty oneself, maintaining a wholly God-receptive attitude, such that one's own self is idle letting God work. Which conduct subserves this birth best?

The third point is the profit and how great it is, which accrues from this birth.

Note in the first place that in what I am about to say I intend to avail myself of natural proofs that ye yourselves can grasp, for though I put more faith in the scriptures than myself, nevertheless it is easier and better for you to learn by means of arguments that can be verified.

First we will take the words: 'In the midst of the silence there was spoken in me a secret word.'

-- But, Sir, where is the silence and where the place in which the word is spoken?

As I said just now, it is in the purest part of the soul, in the noblest, in her ground, aye in the very essence of the soul. That is mid-silence for thereinto no creature did ever get, nor any image, nor has the soul there either activity or understanding, therefore she is not aware of any image either of herself or any creature. Whatever the soul effects she effects with her powers. When she understands she understands with her intellect. When she remembers she does so with her memory. When she loves she does so with her will. She works then with her powers and not with her essence. Now every exterior act is linked with some means. The power of seeing is brought into play only through the eyes; elsewhere she can neither do nor bestow such a thing as seeing. And so with all the other senses: their operations are always effected through some means or other. But there is no activity in the essence of the soul; the faculties she works with emanate from the ground of the essence but in her actual ground there is mid-stillness; here alone is rest and a habitation for this birth, this act, wherein God the Father speaks his Word, for it is intrinsically receptive of naught save the divine essence, without means. Here God enters the soul with his all, not merely with a part. God enters the ground of the soul. None can touch the ground of the soul but God only. No creature is admitted into her ground, it must stop outside in her powers. There it sees the image whereby it has been drawn in and found shelter. For when the soul-powers contact a creature they set to to make of the creature an image and likeness which they absorb. By it they know the creature. Creatures cannot go into the soul, nor can the soul know anything about a creature which she has not willingly taken the image of into herself. She approaches creatures through their present images; an image being a thing that the soul creates with her powers. Be it a stone, a rose, a man, or anything else that she wants to know about, she gets out the image of it which she has already taken in and is thus enabled to unite herself with it. But an image received in this way must of necessity enter from without through the senses. Consequently there is nothing so unknown to the soul as herself. The soul, says a philosopher, can neither create nor absorb an image of herself. So she has nothing to know herself by. Images all enter through the senses, hence she can have no image of herself. She knows other things but not herself. Of nothing does she know so little as of herself, owing to this arrangement. Now thou must know that inwardly the soul is free from means and images, that is why God can freely unite with her without form or similitude. Thou canst not but attribute to God without measure whatever power thou dost attribute to a master. The wiser and more powerful the master the more immediately is his work effected and the simpler it is. Man requires many instruments for his external works; much preparation is needed ere he can bring them forth as he has imagined them. The sun and moon whose work is to give light, in their mastership perform this very swiftly: the instant their radiance is poured forth, all the ends of the world are full of light. More exalted are the angels, who need less means for their works and have fewer images. The highest Seraph has but a single image. He seizes as a unity all that his inferiors regard as manifold. Now God needs no image and has no image: without image, likeness or means does God work in the soul, aye, in her ground whereinto no image did ever get but only himself with his own essence. This no creature can do.

-- How does God the Father give birth to his Son in the soul; like creatures, in image and likeness?

No, by my faith! But just as he gives him birth in eternity and no otherwise.

-- Well, but how does he give him birth there?

See. God the Father has perfect insight into himself, profound and thorough knowledge of himself by means of himself, not by means of any image. And thus God the Father gives birth to his Son, in the very oneness of the divine nature. Mark, thus it is and in no other way that God the Father gives birth to his Son in the ground and essence of the soul and thus he unites himself with her. Were any image present there would not be real union and in real union lies thy whole beatitude.

Now haply thou wilt say: 'But there is nothing innate in the soul save images.' No, not so! If that were true the soul would never be happy, for God cannot make any creature wherein thou canst enjoy perfect happiness, else were God not the highest happiness and final goal, whereas it is his will and nature to be the alpha and omega of all. No creature can be happiness. And here indeed can just as little be perfection, for perfection (perfect virtue that is to say) results from perfection of life. Therefore verily thou must sojourn and dwell in thy essence, in thy ground, and there God shall mix thee with his simple essence without the medium of any image. No image represents and signifies itself: it stands for that of which it is the image. Now seeing that thou hast no image save of what is outside thee, therefore it is impossible for thee to be beatified by any image whatsoever.

The second point is, what it does behove a man to do in order to deserve and procure this birth to come to pass and be consummated in him: is it better for him to do his part towards it, to imagine and think about God, or should he keep still in peace and quiet so that God can speak and act in him while he merely waits on God's operation? At the same time I repeat that this speaking, this act, is only for the good and perfect, those who have so absorbed and assimilated the essence of virtue that it emanates from them naturally, without their seeking; and above all there must live in them the worthy life and lofty teaching of our Lord Jesus Christ. Such are permitted to know that the very best and utmost of attainment in this life is to remain still and let God act and speak in thee. When the powers have all been withdrawn from their bodily forms and functions, then this Word is spoken. Thus he says: 'in the midst of the silence the secret word was spoken to me.' The more completely thou art able to in-draw thy faculties and forget those things and their images which thou has taken in, the more, that is to say, thou forgettest the creature, the nearer thou art to this and the more susceptible thou art to it. If only thou couldst suddenly be altogether unaware of things, aye, couldst thou but pass into oblivion of thine own existence as St Paul did when he said: 'Whether in the body I know not, or out of the body I know not, God knoweth!' Here the spirit had so entirely absorbed the faculties that it had forgotten the body: memory no longer functioned, nor understanding, nor the senses, nor even those powers whose duty it is to govern and grace the body; vital warmth and energy were arrested so that the body failed not throughout the three days during which he neither ate nor drank. Even so fared Moses when he fasted forty days on the mount and

was none the worse for it: on the last day he was as strong as on the first. Thus a man must abscond from his senses, invert his faculties and lapse into oblivion of things and of himself. Anent which a philosopher apostrophised the soul: 'Withdraw from the restlessness of external activities!' And again: 'Flee away and hide thee from the turmoil of outward occupations and inward thoughts for they create nothing but discord!' If God is to speak his Word in the soul she must be at rest and at peace; then he speaks in the soul his Word and himself: not an image but himself. Dionysius says: 'God has no image nor likeness of himself seeing that he is intrinsically all good, truth and being.' God performs all his works, in himself and outside himself, simultaneously. Do not fondly imagine that God, when he created the heavens and the earth and all creatures, made one thing one day and another the next. Moses describes it thus it is true, nevertheless he knew better: he did so merely on account of those who are incapable of understanding or conceiving otherwise. All God did was: he willed and they were. God works without instrument and without image. And the freer thou art from images the more receptive thou art to his interior operation; and the more introverted and oblivious thou art the nigher thou art thereto. Dionysius exhorted his disciple Timothy in this sense saying;

'Dear son Timothy, do thou with untroubled mind swing thyself up above thyself and above thy powers, above all modes and all existences, into the secret, still darkness, that thou mayest attain to the knowledge of the unknown super-divine God.' All things must be forsaken. God scorns to work among images.

Now haply thou wilt say: 'What is it that God does without images in the ground and essence?' That I am incapable of knowing, for my soul-powers can receive only in images; they have to recognise and lay hold of each thing in its appropriate image: they cannot recognise a bird in the image of a man. Now since images all enter from without, this is concealed from my soul, which is most salutary for her. Not-knowing makes her wonder and leads her to eager pursuit, for she knows clearly that it is but knows not how nor what it is. No sooner does a man know the reason of a thing than immediately he tires of it and goes casting about for something new. Always clamouring to know, he is ever inconstant. The soul is constant only to this unknowing knowing which keeps her pursuing.

The wise man said concerning this: "In the middle of the night when all things were in quiet silence there was spoken to me a hidden word." It came like a thief, by stealth. What does he mean by a word that was hidden? The nature of a word is to reveal what is hidden. It appeared before me, shining out with

intent to reveal and giving me knowledge of God. Hence it is called a word. But what it was remained hidden from me. That was its stealthy coming in a whispering stillness to reveal itself.' It is just because it is hidden that one is and must be always after it. It appears and disappears: we are meant to yearn and sigh for it.

St Paul says we ought to pursue this until we espy it and not stop until we grasp it. When he returned after having been caught up into the third heaven where God was made known to him and where he beheld all things, he had forgotten nothing, but it was so deep down in his ground that his intellect could not reach it: it was veiled from him. He was therefore obliged to pursue it and search for it in himself, not outside himself. It is not outside, it is inside: wholly within. And being convinced of this he said, 'I am sure that neither death nor any affliction can separate me from what I find within me.'

There is a fine saying of one heathen philosopher to another about this, he says: 'I am aware of something in me which sparkles in my intelligence; I clearly perceive that it is somewhat but what I cannot grasp. Yet methinks if I could only seize it I should know all truth.' To which the other philosopher replied: 'Follow it boldly! for if thou canst seize it thou wilt possess the sum-total of all good and have eternal life!' St Augustine expresses himself in the same sense: 'I am conscious of something within me that plays before my soul and is as a light dancing in front of it; were this brought to steadiness and perfection in me it would surely be eternal life!' It hides yet it shows. It comes, but after the manner of a thief, with intent to take and to steal all things from the soul. By emerging and showing itself somewhat it purposes to decoy the soul and draw it towards itself to rob it and take itself from it. As saith the prophet: 'Lord take from them their spirit and give them instead thy spirit.' This too the loving soul meant when she said: 'My soul dissolved and melted away when Love spoke his word; when he entered I could not but fail.' And Christ signified it by his words: 'Whosoever shall leave aught for my sake shall be repaid an hundredfold, and whosoever will possess me must deny himself and all things and whosoever will serve me must follow me nor go any more after his own.'

Now peradventure thou wilt say: 'But, Sir, you are wanting to change the natural course of the soul! It is her nature to take in through the senses, in images. Would you upset this arrangement?'

No! But how knowest thou what nobility God has bestowed on human nature, what perfections yet uncatalogued, aye yet

undiscovered? Those who have written of the soul's nobility have gone no further than their natural intelligence could carry them: they never entered her ground, so that much remained obscure and unknown to them. 'I will sit in silence and hearken to what God speaketh within me,' said the prophet. Into this retirement steals the Word in the darkness of the night. St John says, 'The light shines in the darkness: it came unto its own and as many as received it became in authority sons of God: to them was given power to become God's sons.'

Mark now the fruit and use of this mysterious Word and of this darkness. In this gloom which is his own the heavenly Father's Son is not born alone: thou too art born there a child of the same heavenly Father and no other, and to thee also he gives power. Observe how great the use. No truth learned by any master by his own intellect and understanding, or ever to be learned this side the day of judgment, has ever been interpreted at all according to this knowledge, in this ground. Call it an thou wilt an ignorance, an unknowing, yet there is in it more than in all knowing and understanding without it, for this outward ignorance lures and attracts thee from all understood things and from thyself. This is what Christ meant when he said: 'Whosoever denieth not himself and leaveth not father and mother and is not estranged from all these, he is not worthy of me.' As though to say: he who abandons not creaturely externals can neither be conceived nor born in this divine birth. But divesting thyself of thyself and of everything external thereto does indeed give it thee. And in very truth I believe, nay I am sure, that the man who is established herein can in no wise be at any time separated from God. I hold he can in no wise lapse into mortal sin. He would rather suffer the most shameful death, as the saints have done before him, than commit the least of mortal sins. I hold that he cannot willingly commit, nor yet consent to, even a venial sin, whether in himself or in another. So strongly is he drawn and attracted to this way, so much is he habituated to it, that he could never turn to any other: to this way are directed all his senses, all his powers.

May the God who has been born again as man assist us in this birth, continually helping us, weak man, to be born again in him as God. Amen.

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