THE PRODIGAL RETURNS

By

Lilian StaveleyThe Author of "The Golden Fountain" and "The Romance of theSoul"

LondonJohn M. Watkins21 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road, W. C. 21921

CONTENTS

Part I. 7Part II. 63Part III. 81Part IV. 102Part V. 151

PART I

Sunshine and a garden path . . . Flowers . . . The face and neck andbosom of the nurse upon whose heart I lay, and her voice telling methat she must leave me, that we must part, and immediately afteranguish--blotting out the sunshine, the flowers, the face, the voice. This is my first recollection of Life--the pain of love. I was twoyears old. 

Nothing more for two years--and then the picture of a pond and mybaby brother floating on it, whilst with agonised hands I seized hissmall white coat and held him fast. 

And then a meadow full of long, deep grass and summer flowers, and I--industriously picking buttercups into a tiny petticoat to take tocook, "to make the butter with, " I said. 

And then a table spread for tea. Our nurses, my two brothers, andmyself. Angry words and screaming baby voices, a knife thrown bymy little brother. Rage and hate. 

And then a wedding, and I a bridesmaid, aged five years--the church, the altar, and great awe, and afterwards a long white table, whiteflowers, and a white Bride. Grown men on either side ofme--smilingly delightful, tempting me with sweets and cakes and wine, and a new strange interest rising in me like a little flood ofexultation--the joy of the world, and the first faint breath of themystery of sex. 

Then came winters of travel. Sunshine and mimosa, olive treesagainst an azure sky. Climbing winding, stony paths between greenterraces, tulips and anemones and vines; white sunny walls andlizards; green frogs and deep wells fringed around with maidenhair. Mountains and a sea of lapis blue, and early in the mornings fromthis lapis lake a great red sun would rise upon a sky of molten gold. In the rooms so near me were my darling brothers, from whom Ioften had to part. Beauty and Joy, and Love and Pain--these madeup life. 

At ten I twice narrowly escaped death. From Paris we were to takethe second or later half of the train to Marseilles. Late the nightbefore my father suddenly said, "I have changed my mind; I feel wemust go by the first train. " This was with some difficulty arranged. 

On reaching an immense bridge across a deep ravine I suddenlybecame acutely aware that the bridge was about to give way. In aterrible state of alarm I called out this fearful fact to my family. Iburst into tears. I suffered agonies. My mother scolded me, andwhen we safely reached the other side of the bridge I was severelytaken to task for my behaviour. The bridge broke with the next trainover it--the train in which we should have been. Some four hundredpeople perished. It was the most terrible railway disaster that hadever occurred in France. 

A few weeks later, death came nearer still. Having escaped from ourtutor, with a party of other children we ran to two great reservoirs tofish for frogs. Laughing and talking and full of childish joy, wefished there for an hour, when all at once I was impelled, under anextraordinary sense of pressure, to call out, "If anyone falls into thewater, no one must jump in to save them, but must immediately runto those long sticks" (I had never noticed them until I spoke) "anddraw one out and hold it to whoever has fallen in. " I spokeautomatically, and felt as much surprised as my companions that Ishould speak of such a thing. 

Within five minutes I had fallen in myself. My brother rememberedmy words, but before he could reach me with the stick I was underthe water for the third and last time. It was all that they could do todrag my weight up to the ledge, for the water was a yard below it. Had my brother jumped in, as he said he most surely would havedone had I not forewarned him, we must both have been drowned, for they would have had neither the strength nor the time to pull usboth out alive. I was not at all frightened or upset till I heardsomeone say that I was dead; then I wept--it was so sad to be dead!The pressure put upon me to speak as I did had been so great that Ihave never forgotten the strange impression of it to this day. On boththese occasions I consider that I was under immediate Divineprotection. 

I believed earnestly in God with the complete and peaceful faith ofchildhood. I thought of Him, and was afraid: but more afraid of agreat Angel who stood with pen and book in hand and wrote downall my sins. This terrible Angel was a great reality to me. I prayeddiligently for those I loved. Sometimes I forgot a name: then I wouldhave to get out of bed and add it to my prayer. As I grew older, if theweather were cold I did not pray upon the floor but from my bed, because it was more comfortable. I was not always sure if this werequite right, but I could not concentrate my mind on God if my bodywas cold, because then I could not forget my body. 

I saw God very plainly when I shut my eyes! He was a White Figurein white robes on a white throne, amongst the clouds. He heard myprayers as easily as I saw His robes. He was by no means very faraway, though sometimes He was further than at others. He took thetrouble to make everything very beautiful: and He could not bearsinful children. The Angel with the Book read out to Him my faultsin the evenings. 

When I was twelve years old my grandmother died, and for threemonths I was in real grief. All day I mourned for her, and at night Ilooked out at the stars, and the terrible mystery of death and spaceand loneliness struck at my childish heart. 

After thirteen I could no longer be taken abroad to hotels, for myparents considered that I received too much attention, too manypresents, too many chocolates from men. I was educated by agoverness, and was often very lonely. My brothers would come backfrom school; then I overflowed with happiness and sang all day longin my heart with joy. The last night of the holidays was a time ofanguish. Upstairs the clothes were packed. Downstairs I helped thempack the "play-boxes, " square deal boxes at sight of which tearssprang to my eyes and a dreadful pain gripped my heart. Oh, thepain of love at parting! there never was a pain so terrible as sufferinglove. The last meal: the last hour: the last look. There are natureswhich feel this anguish more than others. We are not all alike. 

I had been passionately fond of dolls. Now I was too old for suchcompanions, and when my brothers went away I was completelyalone with my governess and my lessons. I fell into the habit ofdreaming. In these dreams I evolved a companion who was at thesame time myself--and yet not an ordinary little girl like myself, buta marvellous creature of unlimited possibilities and virtues. Sheeven had wings and flew with such ease from the tops of the highestbuildings, and floated so delightfully over my favourite fields andbrooks that I found it hard to believe that I myself did not actuallyfly. What glorious things we did together, what courage we had, nothing daunted us! I cared very little to read books of adventure, for our own adventures were more wonderful than anything I everread. 

Not only had I wings, but when I was my other self I was extremelygood, and the Angel with the Book was then never able to make asingle adverse record of me. And then how easy it was to be good:how delightful, no difficulties whatever! As we both grew older theactual wings were folded up and put away. The virtues remained, but we led an intensely interesting life, and a certain high standardof life was evolved which was afterwards useful to me. 

When, later on, I grew up and my parents allowed me to have asmany friends as I wanted, and when I became exceedingly gay, Istill retained the habit of this double existence; it remained with meeven after my marriage and kept me out of mischief. If I foundmyself temporarily dull or in some place I did not care for, clothedin the body of my double, like the wind, I went where I listed. Iwould go to balls and parties, or with equal ease visit the mountainsand watch the sunset or the incomparable beauties of dawn, makingdelicate excursions into the strange, the wonderful, and the sublime. I gathered crystal flowers in invisible worlds, and the scent of thoseflowers was Romance. 

All this vivid imagination sometimes made my mind over-active: Icould not sleep. "Count sheep jumping over a hurdle, " I was advised. But it did not answer. I found the most effective way was to thinkseriously of my worst sins--my mind immediately slowed down, became a discreet blank--I slept!

I grew tall and healthy. At sixteen I received my first offer ofmarriage and with it my first vision of the love and passion of men. Irecoiled from it with great shyness and aversion. Yet I becamedeeply interested in men, and remained so for very many years. From that time on I never was without a lover till my marriage. 

II

At seventeen my "lessons" came to an end. I had not learnt much, but I could speak four languages with great fluency. I learnt perhapsmore from listening to the conversation of my father and his friends. He had always been a man of leisure and was acquainted with manyof the interesting and celebrated people of the day, both in Englandand on the Continent. I was devoted to him, and whenever he guidedmy character he did so with the greatest judgment. He taught meabove all things the need of self-control, and never to make a remarkof a fellow-creature unless I had something pleasant or kind to say. There was no subject upon which he was unread; and when mybrothers, who were both exceedingly clever, returned from collegeand the University, wonderful and brilliant were the discussions thatwent on. Both my parents were of Huguenot descent, belonging tothe old French noblesse. I think the Latin blood had sharpened theirbrains, and certainly gave an extra zest to life. 

My father was a great believer in heredity, and the followingpersonal experience may show him somewhat justified in his belief. In quite early childhood I commenced to feel a preference for the_left_ side of my body: I washed, dried, and dressed the left sidefirst; I preserved it carefully from all harm; I kept it warm. I was, comparatively speaking, totally indifferent to my right side. 

As I grew older I observed that the place of honour was upon theright-hand side: I understood that God had made the world and ruledit with His right hand! I was wrong, then, in preferring my left hand. I determined to change over. It was very difficult to do: so deep wasthe instinct that it took me some years to eradicate the love for myleft side and transfer it to my right, and when I had at lastaccomplished it I was still liable to go back to my first preference. No one ever detected my peculiarity. 

I was already eighteen or nineteen years old when one day I enteredmy father's room, ready dressed to go out. I had on both my gloves. Suddenly I remembered that I had put on my left glove first. Immediately I took off both my gloves--then I replaced the right one, and then the left. My father was watching me and asked me for anexplanation. I gave it him, and he looked very grave, almost alarmed. After a moment of silence he said, "I want you to give that habit up--Iwant you to break yourself of it immediately. I had it myself as ayouth: it took me years to conquer. No one should permit himself tobe the slave of _any_ habit. "

I asked him which side he had loved. "The _left_ side, " he said. Atfive-and-twenty he had conquered the habit, and I was not born tillhe was almost sixty-one! yet I had inherited it. We never referred toit again, and in two years I, also, had conquered it. 

We spent the winter of the year in which I was seventeen in Italy, towhich country a near relative was Ambassador, and there I went tomy first ball. That night--and how often afterwards!--I knew thesurging exultation, the intoxication of the joy of life. How often insocial life, in brilliant scenes of light and laughter, music and love, Iseemed to ride on the crest of a wave, in the marvellous glamour ofyouth!

This love of the world and of social life was a very strong feeling formany years: at the same time and running, as it were, in doubleharness with it was a necessity for solitude. My mind imperativelydemanded this, and indeed my heart too. 

It was during this year that I first commenced a new form of mentalpleasure through looking at the beautiful in Nature. Not onlysolitude, but total silence was necessary for this pastime, and, ifpossible, beauty and a distant view: failing a view I couldaccomplish it by means of the beauties of the sky. This form ofmental pleasure was the exact opposite of my previous dreamings, for all imagination absolutely ceased, all forms, all pictures, allactivities disappeared--the very scene at which I looked had tovanish before I could know the pleasure of this occupation in which, in some mysterious manner, I inhaled the very essence of theBeautiful. 

At first I was only able to remain in this condition for a fewmoments at a time, but that satisfied me--or, rather, did not satisfyme, for through it all ran a strange unaccountable anguish--a pain oflonging--which, like a high, fine, tremulous nerve, ran through thejoy. What induced me to pursue this habit, I never asked myself. That it was a form of the spirit's struggle towards the Eternal--of thesoul's great quest of God--never occurred to me. I was worshippingthe Beautiful without giving sufficient thought to Him from Whomall beauty proceeds. Half a lifetime was to go by before I realised towhat this habit was leading me--that it was the first step towards theacquirement of that most exquisite of all blessings--the gift of theContemplation of God. Ah, if anyone knows in his heart the call ofthe Beautiful, let him use it towards this glorious end! Love, and theBeautiful--these are the twin golden paths that lead us all to God. 

III

Certainly we were not a religious family. One attendance at churchupon Sunday--if it did not rain!--and occasionally the Communion, this was the extent of any outward religious feeling. But my father'sdaily life and acts were full of Christianity. A man of a naturallysomewhat violent temper, he had so brought himself under controlthat towards everyone, high and low, he had become all that wassweet and patient, sympathetic and gentle. 

About this time a devouring curiosity for knowledge commenced topossess me. What was the truth--what was the truth about everysingle thing I saw? Astronomy, Biology, Geology--in these things Idiscovered a new and marvellous interest: here at last I found mynatural bent. History had small attraction for me: it spoke of thedoings of people mostly vain or cruel, and untruthful. I wantedtruth--irrefutable facts! No scientific work seemed too difficult for me;but I never, then or later, read anything upon the subject of religion, philosophy, or psychology. I had a healthy, wholesome youngintelligence with a voracious appetite: it would carry me a long way, I thought. It did--it landed me in Atheism. 

To a woman Atheism is intolerable pain: her very nature, loving, tender, sensitive, clinging, demands belief in God. The high moralstandard demanded of her is impossible of fulfilment for merereasons of race-welfare. The personal reason, the PersonalGod--these are essential to high virtue. Young as I was, I realised this. Outwardly I was frivolous; inwardly I was no butterfly, the deepthings of my nature were by no means unknown to me. I not onlybecame profoundly unrestful at heart but I was fearful for myself, and of where strong forces of which I felt the pull might lead me. Ihad great power over the emotions of men: moreover, interests andinstincts within me corresponded to this dangerous capacity. I feltthat the world held many strange fires: some holy and beautiful;some far otherwise. 

Without God I knew myself incapable of overcoming the evil of theworld, or even of my own petty nature and entanglements. Idespaired, for I perceived that God does not reveal Himself becauseof an imperious demand of the human mind, and I had yet to learnthat those mysteries which are under lock and key to the intelligenceare open to the heart and soul. But indeed there was no God toreveal Himself. All was a fantastic make-believe! a pitiful childishinvention and illusion!

My intelligence said, "Resign yourself to what is, after all, the truth:console yourself with the world and material achievements. " Theheart said, "Resignation is impossible, for there is no consolation tothe heart without God. " I listened to my heart rather than myintelligence, and for two terrible years I fought for faith. I wasalways reserved, and never admitted anyone into the deep things ofmy life--but when I was twenty my father perceived that I was goingthrough some inward crisis. He knew the books that I read, andprobably guessed what had happened to me. At any rate he calledme into his room one day and asked me, out of love and obedienceto himself, to give up reading all science. This was an overwhelmingblow to me: yet I loved him dearly, and had never disobeyed him inmy life. Again I let my heart speak; and I sacrificed my mind andmy books. 

I threw myself now more than ever into social amusements, and inmy solitary hours sought consolation in my "dream-life. " I wasafraid to turn to the love of Nature--to my beautiful pastime, --for thepain in it was unbearable. 

Towards the end of two years my struggles for faith commenced tofind a reward. Little by little a faint hope crept into my mind--fragile, often imperceptible. A questioning remark made by my youngerbrother helped me: "If human life is entirely material and apart of Nature only, then what becomes of human thoughts andaspirations?" Science had proved to me that nothing is lost--but hasa destiny--in that it evolves into another form or condition of activity. Evolution! with its many seeming contradictions to Religion--mightit not be merely a strong light, too strong as yet for my weak mind, blinding me into temporary darkness? What raised Man above thebeasts but his thoughts and aspirations; and if even a grain of dustwere imperishable, were these thoughts and aspirations of Manalone to end in nothing--to be lost! It was but a reasonable inferenceto say No. These invisible thoughts and aspirations have also afuture--a destiny in a, to us, still invisible world--in the Life of theSpirit. To this my mind was able to agree. It was a step. In the realmof Ideal Thought I might find again my Faith. I had indeed beenfoolish to suppose that a system which provided for the continuationof a grain of sand should overlook the Spirit of Man. This waspresupposing the existence of a spirit in Man; but who could befound to truly and reasonably hold that the mysterious high andsoaring thoughts of Man were one and the same thing as mereanimalism? they were too obviously of another nature to the merelybovine, to the solids of the flesh: for one thing, they were free of thelaw of gravity which so entirely overrules the rest of Nature--theymust therefore come to their destiny in another world, anothercondition of consciousness. 

IV

That winter we again spent in Italy, in continuous gaiety amongst abrilliant cosmopolitan world of men and women who for the mostpart lived in palaces, surrounded with art and luxury. Here in Romeon every side was to be found the Cult of the Beautiful. Wonderfultemples, gems of classical sculpture, masterpieces of colour in oiland fresco--the genius and the aspirations of men renderedpermanent for us by Art; but the Temples, those silent emblems ofman's worship of an Unknown God, with their surroundings oflovely nature, affected me far the most deeply: indeed, I do notpretend that sculptures and pictures affected me at all. I wasinterested, I greatly admired--they were a part of education, but thatwas all. But in the vicinity of those Temples what strange echoesawoke in me, what mysterious sadness and longing, what a mysteryof pain! Something within me sighed and moaned for God. If I couldbut find Him--if I could even truly Believe and be at peace! Butalready I had commenced to Believe. 

During the late winter we went to one of the great ceremonies at theVatican: we had seats in the Sistine Chapel. It was an especialoccasion, and the number of persons present was beyond all seatingaccommodation. To make way for someone of importance I wasasked to give up my seat and go outside into the body of the greatCathedral; here I was hurriedly pushed into the second row of ahuge concourse of waiting and standing people. Already in thedistance the Pope was approaching. Lifted high in his chair on theshoulders of his bearers, he came slowly along in his white robes, his hand raised in a general blessing upon all this multitude. As hecame nearer I saw the delicate ivory face--the great dark eyesshining with a fire I had never seen before. For the first time in mylife I saw holiness. I was moved to the depths of my being. Something in my gaze arrested his attention; he had his chairstopped immediately above me, and, leaning over me, he blessed meindividually--a very great concession during a large publicceremony. I ought to have gone down on my knees--but I had noknees! I no longer had a body! There was no longer anythinganywhere in the world but Holiness--and my enraptured soul. 

Holiness, then, was far beyond the Beautiful. I had not known thistill I saw it before me. 

Life hurried me on: glowing hours and months succeeded each other. In the autumn I fell in love. I came to the consciousness of this, notgradually, but all in one instant. I had no chance of drawing back, for it was already fully completed before I realised it. I came to therealisation of it through a dream (sleep-dreams were alwaysexceedingly rare with me): on this occasion I dreamed a friendshowed me the picture of a girl to whom she said this lover (he hadbeen my lover for a year) was engaged. I awoke, sobbing withanguish. I could not disguise from myself the fact that I must be inlove. When the time came to speak of it to my parents, my motherwould not hear of the marriage--there was no money: I must makeanother choice. Two brilliant opportunities offeredthemselves--money--position; but I could not bring myself to think ofeither. Love was everything: a prolonged secret engagement followed. Iwent into Society just as before. At this time an aptitude for"fortune-telling" showed itself: it amused my friends--I told fortunesboth by palmistry, which I studied quite seriously, and by cards. With both I went largely by inspiration. I found this "inspiration"varied with the individual. There were many persons to whom Icould give the most extraordinarily accurate details of past, present, and future; others moderately so; others were a total blank, in whichcase I either had to remain silent or "try to make up. " I got such areputation for this--I was so sought after for it by even totalstrangers--that in a couple of years I pushed it all far away from meas an intolerable nuisance. 

V

The Faith that had been growing up in me was of a very differentform from that which I had had before: wider, purer, infinitely morepowerful, and, though I did not like to remember the pain of them, Ifelt that those struggling years of doubt and negation had been worthwhile--without those struggles I felt I never could have had sopowerful a faith as I now had. God was at an indefinite and infinitedistance, but His Existence was a thing of complete certainty for me. 

Of the mode and means of Connection with Him I had no smallestknowledge or even conception. I addressed Him with words fromthe brain and the lips. An insuperable wall perpetually separated mefrom Him. 

Now my father became ill with heart trouble. Doctors, nurses, all thedreaded paraphernalia of sickness pervaded the house. During twoterrible years he lingered on. Heart-broken at the sight of hissufferings, I hardly left his bedside. Finally death released him. Butmy health, which had always been good, was now completelybroken down; I became a semi-invalid, always suffering, toodelicate to marry. Under pressure of this continued wretchedness Isank into a nerveless condition of mere dumb endurance--a passiveacceptance of the miseries of life "as willed by God, " I assuredmyself. 

I entered a stagnant state of _mere_ resignation, whereasaccompanying the resignation there should have been a forward-piercingendeavour to reach out and attain a higher spiritual level throughJesus Christ: a persistent effort to light my lamp at theSpiritual Flame to which each must _bring his own lamp, _ for it isnot lit for him by the mere outward ceremony of Baptism--thatceremony is but the Invitation to come to the Light: for each oneindividually, _in full consciousness of desire, _ that lighting must beobtained from the Saviour. I had not obtained this light. I did notcomprehend that it was necessary. I understood nothing; Iwas a spiritual savage. Vague, miserable thoughts, gloomyself-introspections, merely fatigue the vitality without assisting thesoul. What is required is a persistent endeavour to establish an inwardlyfelt relationship first to the Man Jesus. His Personality, HisCharacteristics are to be drawn into the secret places of the heart bymeans of the natural sympathy which plays between two hearts thatboth know love and suffering, and hope and dejection. Sympathyestablished--love will soon follow. Later, an iron energy toovercome will be required. The supreme necessity of the soul beforebeing filled with love is to maintain the will of the whole spiritualbeing in conformity with the Will of God. In the achievement of thisshe is under incessant assistance: in fact everything in the spirituallife is a gift--as in the physical: for who can produce his own sightor his own growth? In the physical these are automatic--in thespiritual they are accomplished only, as it were, "by request, " andthis request a deep all-pervading desire. 

We cannot of our own will climb the spiritual heights, neither canwe climb them without using our will. It is Will flowing towardsWill which carries us by the power of Jesus Christ to the Goal. 

VI

With recovered health, I married, and knew great happiness; but as abride of four months I had to part from my husband, who went to theSouth African War. Always, always this terrible pain of love thatmust part. Always it was love that seemed to me the most beautifulthing in life, and always it was love that hurt me most. He was awayfor fifteen months. I made no spiritual advance whatever. Mystifiedby so much pain, I now began to regard God if not as the actualAuthor of all pain, at any rate as the Permitter of all pain. More andmore I fell back in alarm at the discovery of the depths of my owncapacities for suffering. A tremendous fear of God now commencedto grow up in me, which so increased that after a few years I listenedwith astonishment when I heard people say they were afraid of_any_ person, even a burglar! I could no longer understand feelingfear for anyone or anything save God. All my actions were nowgoverned solely by this sense of weighty, immediate fear of Him. This continued for some ten years. 

When my husband at last returned from the War we took up againour happy married life, and we lived together without a cross word, in a wonderful world of our own, as lovers do. It was remarkablethat we were so happy, for we had no interests in common. Myhusband loved all sports and all games, whereas interest in thosethings was frankly incomprehensible to me. In the winter, when hewas out in the hunting-field, I spent much time by myself; but I wasnever dull, for I could walk out amongst Nature and indulge in mypastime, if the weather were fine: and if not, I could observe andadmire everything that grew and lived close at hand in thehedgerows and fields, and I would work for hours with my needle, for then I could think; I worked hard in the garden. 

A dreadful question now often presented itself to me: Had I really asoul at all, or was I merely a passing shadow, here momentarily forGod's amusement? If I had an eternal soul, where did it live--in myhead with my brain as a higher part of my mind?

Men had souls, I was sure of that; and they asserted the possessionof them very positively--but women? I understood Mahomedgrudgingly granted them a half-soul, and that only conditionally. Scriptures spoke harshly of women; Paul was bitter against them; allthe sins and troubles of the world were laid upon their delicate andbeautiful shoulders. In Revelation I found no mention whatever ofWoman in the life of the Resurrection. 

All this hurt me. What profound injustice--to suffer so much and toreceive no recognition whatever whilst men walked off with all thejoys after leading very questionable lives! Why continue to struggleto please God when His interest in me would so soon be over? Iwent through very real and great spiritual sufferings, andtemptations to throw myself again solely into world-interests, toconsole myself with the here and now, for I had the means: it was allto my hand. I swayed to and fro: at one time I felt very hard towardsGod, terribly hurt by this love-betrayal. But when I looked at thebeauties of Nature and the glories of that endless sky, ah, my heartmelted with tenderness and admiration for the marvellous Maker ofit all. Truly, He was worthy of any sacrifice upon my part. If mypoor, tiny, suffering life afforded Him amusement, I was willing tohave it so. After all--for what wretched, ugly, and miserable menwomen frequently sacrificed themselves without getting any otherreward for it than neglect and indifference. How much better tosacrifice oneself to the All-Perfect, All-Beautiful God!

I finally resigned myself entirely and completely to this point ofview, and, having done so, I thus addressed, in all reverence andearnestness, the Deity:--

"Almighty God, if it is Thy Will to blot out Woman from Paradise Imost humbly assure Thee of this--Man will miss her sorely; andThou Thyself, Almighty God, when Thou dost visit Paradise, wiltmiss her also!"

After this I seldom said any private prayers, for I was not of theAcceptable Sex. But I paid a public respect to God in the church, where I worshipped Him with profound reverence and great sadness. But I thought of Him in my heart constantly, with all those tender, loving, longing thoughts which are the heart's bouquet held out toGod. 

Happiness for me, then, must be found entirely in this world, and Ifound it in my love for my husband. Happiness was that which thewhole world was looking for; but I could not fail to notice more andmore the ridiculous picture presented by Society in its pretences ofbeing the means of finding this happiness. None of its ardentdevotees were "happy" people; they were excited, egotistical, intensely vain and selfish, often bitter and disappointed, filled with ademon of competition, jealous, and full of empty, insincere smiles. Iperceived the chagrins from which they secretly suffered--the tearsbehind the laughter. I was not in the least deceived or impressed byany of them, but wondered how they managed to hang together anddeceive each other. More and more I looked for purely mentalpleasures. Mind was everything. I now began to despise my body--Ialmost hated it as an incubus! Social successes or failures grew to bea matter of complete indifference to me, and social life resolveditself into being solely the means of bringing mind into contact withmind. The question of fashionable environment ceased to exist forme, but the question of how and where to meet with thinking mindswas what concerned me: it was not an easy one to solve in the usualconditions of country life, with its sports and its human-animalinterests. 

Finally, total mental solitude closed around me. In spite of my doubtas to the existence of a woman-soul, I still felt the same piercingdesire and need for God--the acquisition of knowledge in no waylessened this pain. What, after all, is knowledge by itself? The lightof the highest human intelligence seems hardly greater than the wanlamp of a diminutive glow-worm, surrounded by the vastness of thenight. In sorrow, in trouble, in pain, could knowledge or the mind doso much more for me than the despised body? No, something morethan the intelligence was needed to give life any sense of adequacy:even human love was insufficient. God Himself was needed, and theever-recurring necessity would force itself upon me of the need for apersonal direct connection with God. 

I continued to find it utterly impossible to achieve this. Mere faithby no means fulfilled my requirements. God, then, remainedinaccessible--the mind fell back from every attempt to reach Him. He was unknowable, yet not unthinkable--that is to say, He was notunthinkable as Being, but only in particularisation and in realisation. I could know Him to Be; but in that alone where was anyconsolation?--I found it totally inadequate. It was some form ofpersonal Contact that was needed; but if my mind failed to reach this, with what else should I reach it? Ah, I was infinitely too small forthis terrible mystery; but, small as I was, how I could suffer! Whythis suffering? Why would He not show Himself? Harsh, rebellious, criticising thoughts frequently invaded me: the whole scheme ofNature and of life at times appeared cruel, unreasonably so. All theold ever-to-be-repeated cycle of bitter human thoughts had to begone all through again in my own individual atom. Here and therethe bitterness might vary: as, for instance, the collapse andcorruption of the body with its hideous finale never caused medistress. I had become too indifferent to the body; but I found thatmost persons clung to it with extraordinary tenacity, indeedappeared to regard it as their most valuable possession! What I didresent, and was deeply mystified by, was the capacity for sufferingand pain which had no balance in any corresponding joy. It was idleto say that the joy of festivities, even of human love, equalled theanguish of grief over others, or the sufferings of physical ill-health. They did not counterbalance it; sorrow was more weighty than joy, and far more durable. Later I became convinced that there did exist afull equivalent of joy, as against pain, and that I merely had noknowledge of how to find it. 

Years succeeded each other in this way, bringing greater looseningof earth-ties, more abstraction, certainly no improvement ofcharacter. 

My husband's duties as a soldier took us to many parts of the world. During a visit to Africa I was struck by lightning, and for ten daysmy sufferings were almost unendurable; every nerve seemedelectrocuted. It was long before I quite recovered. Whilst this illnesslasted, though it caused him no inconvenience and he led his lifeexactly as usual, I yet noticed a change in my husband's love. I wasdeeply pained, almost horrified, by this revelation of the naturalimperfection of human love: profoundly saddened, I asked myselfwas it nothing but lust which had inspired and dictated all the poemsof the world? I thought more and more of Jesus' love; I began toknow that nothing less than His perfect love could satisfy me. In thisillness I was tremendously alone. 

VII

I commenced to meditate upon the life and the character and thelove of Jesus Christ. I was now about thirty-six. Gradually Hebecame for me a secret Mind-Companion. I began to rely upon thiscompanionship--though it appeared intensely one-sided, for at first itseemed always to be I who gave! Nevertheless I found a growingcalm arising from this apparently so one-sided friendship. A subtleassistance and comfort came to me, it was impossible to say how, yet it came from this companionship as it came from nothing else. 

That Jesus Christ was God I knew to be the faith of the Church, butthat He actually was so I felt no conviction of whatever: indeed, itwas incomprehensible to me. I thought of Him as a Perfect Man, with divine powers. He was my Jesus. I denied nothing, for I was fartoo small and ignorant to venture to do so: I kept a perfectly openmind and loved Him for Himself, as the Man Jesus. 

This went on for some years. In all my spiritual advancement I wasincredibly slow!

What had delayed me in progress was lack of using the rightProcedure and the right Prayer. I sought for God with persistenceand great longing; but I sought Him as the Father, and the Godheadis inaccessible to the creature. On becoming truly desirous of findingGod it is necessary that with great persistence we pray the Father inthe name of Jesus Christ that He will give us to Jesus Christ and nilthe heart and mind with love for Christ. Only through Jesus Christcan we find the Godhead, and we cannot be satisfied with less thanthe Godhead. With the creature we cannot come into contact withthe Godhead--but with the soul only. The soul is awakened, revived, reglorified by Grace of Jesus Christ; and the Holy Spirit effects therepentance and conversion of the heart and mind, for without thisconversion towards a spiritual life the soul remains in bondage to theunconverted creature. 

VIII

One day I returned from a walk, and hardly had I entered my roomwhen I commenced thinking with great nearness and intimacy ofJesus; and suddenly, with the most intense vividness, He presentedHimself before my consciousness so that I inwardly perceived Him, and at once I was overcome by a great agony of remorse for myunworthiness: it was as though my heart and mind broke in piecesand melted in the stress of this fearful pain, whichcontinued--increased--became unendurable, and lasted altogether anhour. Too ignorant to know that this was the pain of Repentance, Idid not understand what had happened to me; but now indeed at least Iknew beyond a doubt that I had a soul! My wonderful Lord hadcome to pay me a visit, and I was not fit to receive Him--hence myagony. I would try with all my strength to improve myself for Him. 

I was at first at a standstill to know even where to commence in thisimprovement, for words fail to describe what I now saw in myself!Up till now I had publicly confessed myself a sinner, and privatelycalmly thought of myself as a sinner, but without being disturbed byit or perceiving how I was one! I kept the commandments in theusual degree and way, and was conscientious in my dealings withothers. Now all at once--by this Presentment of Himself before mysoul--which had lasted for no more than one moment of time--Isuddenly, and with terrible clearness, saw the whole insufferableoffensiveness of myself. 

For some time, even for some weeks, I remained like a personhalf-stunned with astonishment. Then I determined to try to become lessselfish, less irritable and impatient, to show far more considerationfor everyone else, to be rigidly truthful: in fact, try to commence analteration. 

For one thing--about telling lies--I had always been quite truthful inlarge things, but often told some social lies for my own convenience, and sometimes told them for no reason at all! This spontaneous Evilfilled me with more astonishment than shame; whence did this Evilcome? I could never account for this strange Intruder which seemedto have a separate life and will of its own, and which, with noconscious invitation upon my part, would suddenly visit me! and _inall manner of shapes and ways!_ But whatever my difficulties, I hadalways this immense incentive--to please my Jesus, tender andwonderful, my Perfect Friend. 

Two years went by, and on Easter morning, at the close of theservice as I knelt in prayer in the church, He suddenly presentedHimself again before my soul, and again I saw myself, and again Iwent down and down into those terrible abysses of spiritual pain;and I suffered more than I suffered the first time: indeed, I havenever had the courage to quite fully recall the full depths of thisanguish to mind. 

After this my soul knew Jesus as Christ the Son of God, and myheart and mind accepted this without any further wonder or question, and entirely without knowing how this knowledge had been given, for it came as a gift. 

A great repose now commenced to fill me, and the world and all itsinterests and ways seemed softly and gently blown out of my heartby the wings of a great new love, my love for the Risen Christ. 

Though outwardly my friends might see no change, yet inwardly Iwas secretly changing month by month. Even the great love I hadfor my husband began to fade: this caused me distress; I thought Iwas growing heartless, and yet it was rather that my heart had grownso large that no man could fill it! I felt within me an immense, incomprehensible capacity for love, and the whole world with all itscontents seemed totally, even absurdly, inadequate to satisfy thisgreat capacity. I suffered over it without understanding it. 

IX

I had a garden full of old-fashioned flowers, surrounded by highwalls with thatch. As I grew in my heart more and more away fromthe world, I worked more in the garden, and whilst I worked Ithought mostly about God--God so far away and hidden, and yet sonear my heart. 

There were many different song-birds in the garden, and one robin. Iloved the robin best of all. His song was not so beautiful as theblackbird's or so mellow as the thrush's; but they hid and ran awayfrom me, whilst the robin sought me out and stayed with me andsang me, all to myself, a little, tiny, gentle song of which I nevergrew tired. If I stayed quite still, he came so close he almost touchedme; but if I moved towards him, he flew away in a great fright. 

It seemed to me I was like that robin, and I wanted to come close, close to the feet of God. But He would not let me find Him. Hewould not make me any sign. He would not let me feel I knew Him. Did He in His wisdom know that if He showed Himself too openly Ishould go mad with fear or joy? I could not tell. But every day as therobin sang to me in the garden I sang to God a little gentle song outof my heart--a song to the hidden God Who called me, and when Ianswered Him would not be found, and, still remaining hidden, called and called till I was dumb with the pain and wonder of thismystery. 

Then suddenly came the Great War. My husband was amongst thefirst to have to go. All my love for him which I had thought to befading now rose up again to its full strength: it was no mere weaklysentiment, but a powerful type of human love which had been ableto carry me through fifteen years of married life without one hour ofquarrelling; its roots were deep into my heart and mind: the verystrength and perfection of it but made of it a greater instrument fortorture. Why should this most beautiful of all human emotions carrywith it so heavy a penalty, for which no remedy appeared to exist? Ithad not then been made clear to me that all human loves must firstbe offered up and ascend into the love of God: then only are theyfreed from this Pain-Tax. God must first be All in All to us beforewe can enter amongst the number who are all in all to Him--constantlyconsoled by Him. This condition of being all in all is demanded asa right by all men and women in mutual love, yet we deny this rightto God: we are not even willing to attempt it! this failure to bewilling is the grave error we make. Our attitude to God is not oneof love, but of an expectancy of favours. An identical sacrificeis demanded of us in marriage--father, mother, brothers, sisters, friends: all these loves must become subservient to the new love, and with what willingness and smiles this sacrifice is usuallymade! Not so with our sacrifices to God--we make them with bittertears, hard hearts, long faces. Is He never hurt by this perpetualgrudgingness of love?

But I had not yet learnt any of this, and I could not accept, I couldnot swallow this terrible cup. I thought of Christ in the Gardenof Gethsemane. He understood and knew all pain; I had Hiscompanionship, but He offered me no cessation of this pain. It mustbe borne; had He not borne His own up to the bitter end? I shrank, appalled, from the suffering I was already in and the suffering thatlay before me. Relief from this agony, relief, relief! But there was norelief. In utter darkness all must be gone through. At least I was notso foolish as to attribute all this horror that was closing in upon theworld to the direct Will of God: I could perceive that, on thecontrary, it was the spirit of Anti-Christ, it was the will of Man withhis greeds, his cruelty, his self-sufficient pride, together with a hostof other evils, which had brought all this to pass. But couldnot--would not--God deliver the innocent; must all alike descend intothe pit?

I tried to obtain relief by casting this burden on to Christ, and wasnot able to accomplish it. I tried to draw the succour of God downinto my heart, and I tried to throw myself out and up to Him--I coulddo neither: the vast barrier remained; Faith could not take methrough it. 

A horrible kind of second sight now possessed me, so that, althoughI never heard one word from my husband, I became aware of muchthat was happening to him--knew him pressed perpetuallybackwards, fighting for his life, knew him at times lying exhaustedout in the open fields at night. At last I began to fear for my reason; Ibecame afraid of the torture of the nights and sat up reading, forcingmy mind to concentrate itself upon the book--the near-to-hand helpof the book was more effective than the spiritual help in whichsomething altogether vital was still missing. Relief only came whenafter a month a letter reached me from my husband, saying that theterrible retreat was over and he safe. 

Months and years dragged by. Sometimes the pain of it all waseased; sometimes it increased. 

As grass mown down and withered in the fields gives out thepleasant scent of hay, so in her laceration and her anguish did thesoul, I wondered, give off some Pain-Song pleasing to AlmightyGod. 

At first I recoiled with terror from this thought; finally loveovercame the terror--I was willing to have it so, if it pleased Him. My soul reached down into great and fearful depths. I envied thesoldiers dying upon the battlefields; life was become far moreterrible to me than death. Looking back upon my struggles, I seewith profound astonishment how unaware I was of my impudence toGod in attributing to Him qualities of cruelty and callousness, suchas are to be found only amongst the lowest men!

Yet good was permitted to come out of this evil; for where Iattributed to God a callousness and even an enjoyment of mysufferings, I learnt self-sacrifice, the effacement of all personal gain, and total submission for love's sake to His Will, cruel though I mightimagine it to be. With what tears does the heart afterwards addressitself in awed repentance to its Beloved and Gentle God!

A painful illness came and lasted for months. Having no home, Iwas obliged to endure the misery of it as best I could amongstrangers. At this time I touched perhaps the very lowest depths. How often I longed that I might never wake in the morning! Iloathed my life. 

During this illness I came exceedingly near to Christ, so much sothat I am not able to describe the vividness of it. What I learnt out ofthis time of suffering I do not know--save complete submission. Ibecame like wax--wax which was asked to take only one impression, and that pain. I was too dumb; I should have remembered thosewords, that "men ought not to faint, but to pray. "

Bewildered, and mystified by my own unhappiness and that of somany others all around me, I sank in my submission too much into astate of lethargic resignation, whereas an onward-driving resolutionto win through, a powerful determination to seek and obtain theimmediate protection and assistance of God, a standing before God, and a claiming of His help--these things are required of the soul: infact that importunity is necessary of which Jesus spoke (Luke xi. 7-9):"And he from within shall answer and say, Trouble me not . . . Icannot rise and give thee. I say unto you he will not rise and givehim because he is his friend, yet _because of his importunity_ hewill rise and give him as many as he needeth. And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and itshall be opened unto you. "

Such times of distress are storms, fearful battles of the soul in whichshe must not faint but rise up and walk towards God and clamour forhelp; and she will receive it. In His own good time He will give herall that she asks and more even than she dreamed of. She must claimfrom God a continual restrengthening, and search with glowingaspiration for a more joyous love. 

X

It was summer-time: a great battle was raging in France. A friendwrote me that my husband was up in the very foremost part of it. Iheard no word from my husband; weeks passed, and still the sameominous silence. At last the day came when the shadow of these twofearful years rose up and overwhelmed me altogether. I went up onto the wild lonely hill where I so often walked, and there Icontended with God for His help. For the first time in my life therewas nothing between God and myself--this had _continually_happened with Jesus Christ, but not with God the Father, Whoremained totally inaccessible to me. Now, like a man standingin a very dark place and seeing nothing but knowing himselfimmediately near to another--so I knew myself in very greatnearness to God. I had no need for eyes to see outwardly, because ofthe immense magnetism of this inward Awareness. At one momentmy heart and mind ran like water before Him--praying Him, beseeching Him for His help; at another my soul stood straight upbefore Him, contending and claiming because she could bear nomore: and it felt as though the Spirit of God stood over against myspirit, and my spirit wrestled with God's Spirit for more than an hour. But He gave me no answer, no sign, no help. He gave me nothingbut that awful silence which seems to hang for ever between Godand Man. And I became exhausted, and turned away in despair fromGod, and from supplication, and from striving, and from contending, and, very quiet and profoundly sad, I stood looking out across thehills to the distant view--how gentle and lovely this peace of theevening sky, whilst on earth all the nations of the world werefighting together in blood and fury and pain!

I had stood there for perhaps ten minutes, mutely and sadlywondering at the meaning of it all, and was commencing to walkaway when suddenly I was surrounded by a great whiteness whichblotted out from me all my surroundings. It was like a great light orwhite cloud which hid all my surroundings from me, though I stoodthere with my eyes wide open: and the cloud pricked, so that I saidto myself, "It is an electric cloud, " and it pricked me from my headdown to my elbows, but no further. I felt no fear whatever, but avery great wonder, and stood there all quite simple and placid, feeling very quiet. Then there began to be poured into me anindescribably great vitality, so that I said to myself, "I am beingfilled with some marvellous Elixir. " And it filled me from the feetup, gently and slowly, so that I could notice every advance of it. Asit rose higher in me, so I grew to feel freed: that is to say, I hadwithin me the astounding sensation of having the capacity to passwhere or how I would--which is to say I felt freed of the law ofgravity. I was like a free spirit--I felt and knew within myself thisglorious freedom! I tasted for some moments a new form of living!Words are unable to convey the splendour of it, the boundless joy, the liberty, the glory of it. 

And the incomprehensible Power rose and rose in me until itreached the very crown of my head, and immediately it had quitefilled me a marvellous thing happened--the Wall, the dreadfulBarrier between God and me, came down entirely, and immediatelyI loved Him. I was so filled with love that I had to cry aloud my love, so great was the force and the wonder and the delight and the mightof it. 

And now, slowly, the vivid whiteness melted away so that I saweverything around me once more just as before; but for a little whileI continued to stand there very still and thoughtful, because I wasfilled with wonder and great peace. 

Then I turned to walk home, but I walked as a New Creature in aNew World--my heart felt like the heart of an angel, glowing white-hotwith the love for God, and all my sorrows fled away in a vast joy!This was His answer, this was His help. After years and years ofwrestling and struggling, in one moment of time He had let me findHim, He had poured His Paradise into my soul! Never was suchinconceivable joy--never was such gladness! My griefs and painsand woes were wiped away--totally effaced as though they hadnever existed!

Oh, the magnificence of such splendid joy! The whole of spacecould scarcely now be large enough to hold me! I needed all of it--Iwelcomed its immensity as once I was oppressed by it. God and mySoul, and Love, and Light, and Space!

PART II

At last my little suffering life is sheltered in the known, the felt, protection of the Ineffable and Invisible Being. The BeingWho, without revealing Himself to me by sight or sound, yetcommunicates Himself to me in some divine manner at onceall-sufficing and inexpressible. I ask no questions: I am in no haste ofanxious learning. My heart and my mind and my soul stand still anddrink in the glory of this happiness. All day, often half the night, Iworship Him. I love Him with this new love, so different fromanything known before. The greatest earthly love, by comparison toit, has become feeble, impure, almost grotesque in its inefficiency--atinsel counterfeit of this glistening mystery which must still bespoken of as love because I know no other name. 

I find it difficult, almost impossible, to speak to my fellow-creatures, because I have only two words, two thoughts in my entire being: myGod, and my love for Him. 

I am like a thing that is magnetised, held: I am not able, day or night, to detach my mind from God. 

I wake with His name upon my lips, with His glory in my soul. In allthis there is no virtue on my part; there is no effort; the capacity forthis boundless devotion is a free gift. Coming immediately after myanguished prayer on the hill, it appears to me to have come solely onaccount of that one prayer--the previous prayers, struggles, endeavours of five-and-twenty years are entirely forgotten. Icomprehend nothing of the mystery, neither as yet do I feel anydesire to comprehend it; but in a world where only love, beauty, happiness, and repose exist, I walk and talk and live alone with God. 

Yet the war was continuing as usual, my husband was in the samedanger, I became ill with influenza, my friends continued to die ofwounds, my relations to be killed one by one; but in all this therewas no pain: the sting, the anguish, had gone out of every singlething in life. 

My consciousness feels to be composed of two extremes: I am achild of a few years of age, to whom sin, suffering, pain, evil, andtemptation are not known, and yet, though knowing so little, I knowthe unutterably great--I know God. This cannot be expressed--merely, it can be said that two extremes have met. 

This new consciousness, this new worship, this new love is for theGodhead. Christ is gone up into the Godhead, and I worship Him in, and as One with, the Godhead. For three months this continuesuninterruptedly. Then Jesus Christ presents Himself to myconsciousness. Jesus, Who led me to this happiness, now calls andcalls to my soul. Immediately I commence to respond to Him. He isdrawing me away; He is teaching me something--at first I do notknow what, but soon I know that He is leading me out of this Eden, this paradise of my childhood: I know it, because I begin to feel painagain, and to recognise evil. O my Jesus, my Jesus, must I reallyfollow Thee out of Paradise back into pain? Yes, in less than twoweeks I am fully back in the world again--but not the same world, _because I know how to escape from it. _ The Door that I knocked at, and that all in one moment was opened to me, is _never closed. _ Ican go in and out. God never closes to me the right of way; neversevers those secret wires of Divine Communication. 

But my soul is not nursed, as it were, in His Hands day and night--shemust learn to grow up. Woeful education, deadly days of learning, stony paths that hurt, that hurt all the more because of the felicitythat only so recently was mine. 

For three months I am walking further and further out of Eden andback into the horrors of the world--following Jesus. 

One night I compose myself as usual for sleep, but I do not sleep, neither can I say that I am quite awake. It is neither sleep, nor is mywakefulness the usual wakefulness. I do not dream, I cannot move. My consciousness is alight with a new fiery energy of life; it feels toextend to an infinite distance beyond my body, and yet remainsconnected with my body. I live in a manner totally new and totallyincomprehensible, a life in which none of my senses are used andwhich is yet a thousand, and more than a thousand, times as vivid. Itis living at white heat--without forms, without sound, without sight, without anything which I have ever been aware of in this world, andat a terrible speed. What is the meaning of all this? I do not know:my body is quite helpless and is distressed, but I am not afraid. Godis teaching me something in His own way. For six weeks every nightI enter this condition, and the duration and power or intensity of itincrease by degrees. It feels that my soul is projected or travels forincalculable distances beyond my body--(long afterwards Iunderstand through experience that this is not the mode of it, but thatthe soul _remaining in the body_ is by some de-insulation exposedto the knowledge of spirit-life as and when free of the flesh)--and Ilearn to comprehend and to know a new manner of living, as aswimmer learns a new mode of progression by means of hisswimming, which is not his natural way. 

By the end of three weeks I can remain nightly for many hours inthis condition, which is always accompanied by an intense and vividconsciousness of God. 

As this consciousness of God becomes more and more vivid so mybody suffers more and more. By day I can only eat the smallestmorsels of food, which almost choke me, but I drink a great quantityof water. I am perfectly healthy, though I have hardly any sleep andvery little, indeed almost no, food--the suffering is only at night withthe breathing and the heart when in this strange condition. But Ihave no anxiety whatever; I am glad that He shall do as He pleaseswith me. Nothing but love can give us this supreme confidence. 

During the whole of these experiences I live in a state of veryconsiderable abstraction. But this now suddenly increases, increasesto such an extent that I hardly know whether to call it abstraction orthe extremity of poverty. I now become divested of all interestsoutside and inside, divested of the greater part of my intelligence, divested of my will. I am of no value whatever, less than the dust onthe road. 

In this awful nothingness I am still I. My consciousness continuesand is not confounded with or lost in any other consciousness, but isreduced to stark nakedness and worth nothing: and this worthlessnothing is hung up and, as it were, suspended nowhere in particularas far from earth as from heaven, totally unknown and unwanted byboth God and Man. I am naked patience--waiting. I have a fewthoughts, but very few: I think one thought where in normal times Ishould think ten thousand. I feel and know that I am nothing, and Ifeel that this has been done to me; just as before, all that I had wasalso done to me and was a gift. So I acknowledge that I once hadand was perhaps something and that now I possess and certainly amnothing--I acknowledge it, I accept it, without hesitation, withoutprotest. One of my few thoughts is that I shall remain for the rest ofmy natural life in this pitiful state where, however, I shall hope to bepreserved from further sinning simply because I have not asufficiency of will, intelligence, or thought with which to sin! I amtoo completely nothing to be able to sin. I have another thought, which is that as I no longer have any intelligence with which to dealwith the ordinary difficulties of life, such as street life and traffic, Ishall shortly be run over and killed; and so I put a card with myaddress on it into my little handbag, for the convenience of thosewho shall be obliged to deal with my body afterwards. 

I have just sufficient capacity left me to automatically, mechanically, go through with the necessities of life. I have not become idiotic. Ilive in a tremendous and profound solitude, such a solitude as wouldfrighten many people greatly. But my beautiful pastime hadaccustomed me to solitude and also to something of thisnothingness--a brief nothingness was a necessary part of thebeautiful pastime: so I have no fears now of any kind; but I wonder. Perhaps I am just four things--wonder, patience, resignation, andnothing. 

Yet through this dreadful solitude penetrates the inspiration of someunseen guide. As regards this particular time I am convinced thatthis guide is an outside presence. I depend in all my goings andcomings upon the guidance of this guide who proves incrediblyaccurate in every detail, in details of even the smallest necessities. Ifthis guide is a part of myself, it is that of me with which I have notpreviously come in contact; and it is not the Reason, but far beyondthe Reason, for it _divines. _ It is then either a spiritual guide, companion, or guardian angel, or it is a power possessed by the soulherself--a foretasting cognisance, a mysterious intuition of which weas yet comprehend little or nothing, and which we have not yetlearnt to command: it presents itself; it absents itself; but itcondescends to every need; it is always helpful, always beneficent; itsees that which it sees before the event; it hears that which it hearsbefore the words are spoken. It guides by what would seem to betwo very different modes: the greater things come by a modealtogether indescribable; but for the small things of every day I willtake simple examples here and there. I am abroad. Someone in thefamily at home is taken dangerously ill. I am urgently needed; butthe trains are overcrowded, I am unable to get my seat transferred toan earlier date, I cannot let them know at home when I shall return:all is uncertain, all is chaos. I am painfully anxious, I am ashamed tosay I am greatly worried: I turn as always to my Lord, asking Him toforgive these selfish fears and to help me. A little while later a scenepresents itself to me--I see my own room, I hear the voice of a page-boystanding in the door and saying, "You are wanted on thetelephone"; then I am at the telephone, and a voice is saying to me, "_Your train accommodation is transferred to Friday the 19th. _"That is all, because I am rung off. 

Five days pass. I am in my room, and the page is really standing atthe door, and he says, "You are wanted on the telephone. " I go to thetelephone, and a voice says, "_Your train accommodation istransferred to Friday the 19th. _" That is all, because I am rung off. 

Again, there is a young lay-reader, closely in contact with Christ; hehas a wife and young child. The weather is bitterly cold. A picturesuddenly comes before me of this family, and there is a voice saying, "_He was gathering together the last little pieces of fuel when yourpresent came. _" Immediately I understand that I am required to sendcoal to these people, and to do it at once without delay. Thefollowing day the wife comes with tears to thank me, and she tellsme, "We were in despair; my husband's heart is so weak he cannotbear the cold, he becomes seriously ill. _He was gathering togetherthe last little pieces of fuel when your present came. _"

Or, again, I very badly need a pair of walking shoes, but for weeks Ihave been so absorbed in contemplation that the pain of bringingmyself from this holy joy to do shopping is too great, and I delayand delay; I cannot bring myself to it; but shoes are a necessity ofearthly life. Having exceedingly narrow feet, I am obliged always toget my shoes from a certain maker, and now, during the war, hemakes so few shoes. To-day a picture of the shop comes before me, and the words "Go to-day, go to-day, " urge themselves upon myconsciousness. Then a picture comes of the assistant; I show her myfoot, and she says, "_There is only one pair left; how fortunate youcame to-day!_" So I understand I must go to my shopping and, greatly against my will, I go that afternoon. The assistant comesforward, and I show her my foot, and she says, "_There is only onepair left; how fortunate you came to-day!_"

Always in this mode of the guiding are the little picture and the_exact_ words: all of it of the easiest to describe; but of the otherand the greater guiding I do not know how to tell. It is sheer pureknowledge, received not in parts, pictures, or words, but as a wholeand in a mode so exquisitely mysterious as to be at once too intricatefor description, and yet simplicity itself!

Sure, perfect, and serene mode of knowledge! Royal knowledgewhich knows no toil, no sweat of work, no common drudgery, artthou of the soul herself, or art thou altogether from outside the soul?This I know, that though the first mode would seem to be very smalland to deal with littleness, and the last mode seems to be entirelyapart from it because of the greatnesses with which it deals that theyare linked and that the power is one power soaring to the highest, condescending to the smallest. 

So now, in the time of this strange abstraction and poverty, when thecinematograph of my mind is closed down, and with it the delicatemechanism which takes up, uses, and connects all that we takein by the senses, and which makes the world so real and socomprehensible, is become unhitched and disconnected, so thatnothing in the world seems any longer real or possesses either valueor meaning, and I stand before it all defenceless, seemingly unableto deal with it, utterly indifferent to it; then and now Reason mayvery well say to me, "You are in very great danger"; but I am not inany danger, because I am guided whenever necessary by somecondescending sagacity far more sagacious than my poor Reason, infinitely more penetrative and effectual than any sense of eye or ear. I remain fully convinced that at this time, at any rate, it was anoutside sagacity which guided me--truly a guardian angel. 

This period of intense abstraction, this strange valley of humiliation, poverty, solitude, seemed a necessary prelude to the great, thesupreme, experience of my life. As I came slowly out of this povertyand solitude, the joyousness of my spiritual experience increased:the nights were no longer at all a time of sleep or repose, but ofrapturous living. 

The sixth week came, and I commenced to fear the nights and thistremendous living, because the happiness and the light and thepoignancy and the rapture of it were becoming more than I couldbear. I began to wonder secretly if God intended to draw my soul sonear to Him that I should die of the splendour of this living, Myraptures were not only caused by the sense of the immediatePresence of God--this is a distinctive rapture running through andabove all raptures, but there are lesser ecstasies caused by themeeting of the soul with Thoughts or Ideas, with melodies whichbear the soul in almost unendurable delight upon a thousandsummits of perfection; and with an all-pervading rapturous Beautyin a great light. There is this peculiarity about the manner of thesethoughts and melodies and beauties--they are not spoken, heard, orseen, but _lived. _ I could not pass these things to my reason andtranslate the Ideas into words or the melodies into sounds, or thebeauty into objects, for spirit-living is not translatable to earth-living, and I found in it no words, no sounds, no objects, and Icomprehended and I lived with that in me which is above Reasonand of which I had, previously to these experiences, had nocognisance. 

There came a night when I passed beyond Ideas, beyond melody, beyond beauty, into vast lost spaces, depths of untellable bliss, into aLight. And the Light is an ecstasy of delight, and the Light is anocean of bliss, and the Light is Life and Love, and the Light is thetoo deep contact with God, and the Light is unbearable Joy; and inunendurable bliss my soul beseeches God that He will cover herfrom this most terrible rapture, this felicity which exceeds allmeasure. And she is not covered from it. And she beseeches Himagain; and she is not covered; and being in the last extremity fromthis most terrible joy, she beseeches Him again: and immediately iscovered from it. 

* * *

My soul, my whole being, is terrified of God, and of joy. I dare notthink of Him, I dare not pray; but, like some pitiful and woundedchild, I creep to the feet of Jesus. 

When on the following evening once more the day closes and Icompose myself for the night, I wonder tremblingly to what He willagain expose me; but for the first time in six weeks I fall into anatural sleep and know no more until the morning. 

Then I understand that the lesson is over. Mighty and Terrible God, it was enough!

In the light of these measureless joys what is any earthly joy? Whatis the very greatest experience of earthly happiness but so muchwaste paper?

What are the joys of those vices for which men sell their souls, butsoap-bubbles!

The whole meaning of life, together with all the graduated andaccepted values of it, becomes for ever changed in the light of theknowledge of Celestial Happiness. 

PART III

I

Wonderful, beautiful weeks went by, filled with divine, indescribable peace. The Presence of God was with me day andnight, and the world was not the world as I had once known it--aplace where men and women fought and sinned and toiled andanguished and wondered horribly the meaning of this mystery ofpain and joy, of life and death. The world was become Paradise, andin my heart I cried to all my fellow-souls, "Why fret and toil, whysweat and anguish for the things of earth when our own God has inHis hand such peace and bliss and happiness to give to Every man?O come and receive it, Every man his share. "

And the glamour of life in Unity with God became past allcomprehension and all words. 

Is life, then, a poem? is it a melody? I cannot say; but it is one longessence of delight--a harmony of flowing out and back again to God. O blessed life! O blessed Man! O blessed God!

II

One morning in my room I began thinking and reasoning about awonderful change that I knew had crept all through me. If Godshould now come at any moment of the day or night and turn overevery secret page of heart and mind, He would not find one thoughtor glimmer of any sort or kind of lust, whether of the eye, of theheart, of the mind, or of the body; and all in one moment I realisedthe miracle that Christ had worked in me, and the words came overmy mind, "Though thy sins be as scarlet, they shall be white assnow. " And I stood there, gazing before me, speechless, and thetears of a joy that was an agony of gratitude poured and poureddown my face like a rain. I did not sob, I could not speak, and veryquietly I took my heart and my mind and my soul and laid them forever at the feet of Christ. 

III

One evening as I knelt to say my prayers, which were never long, because since the Visitation on the hill my natural habit--whetherwalking, sitting, working, travelling, or on my bed--had come to bea continual sending up from my heart and mind the tenderest andmost adoring, the most worshipping and thanking little stream ofthoughts to God (very much as a flower, if we could but see it, sendsits scent to the sun). 

And because this mode of prayer is so smooth and joyous, so easy, so unutterably sweet, in that during it the Presence of God laves usabout as the sun laves the flower--so because of this it was only forshort and set times that I worshipped Him as the creature in prayersupon its knees; but those few moments of prayer would always beintense, the heart and the mind with great power bent wholly andsingly upon God. 

So now, this evening as I knelt and dwelt in great singleness on God, He drew me so powerfully, He encompassed me so with Hisglamour, that this singleness and concentration of thought continuedmuch longer than usual on account of the greatness of the love that Ifelt for Him, and the concentration became an intensity ofpenetration because of this magnetism, He turned on to me, and mymind became faint, and died, and I could no longer think of or onGod, _for I was one with Him. _ And I was still I; though I wasbecome Ineffable Joy. 

When it was over I rose from my knees, and I said to myself, forfive wonderful moments I have been in contact with God in anunutterable bliss and repose: and He gave me the bliss tenderly andnot as on that Night of Terror; but when I looked at my watch I sawthat it had been for between two and three hours. 

Then I wondered that I was not stiff, that I was not cold, for thenight was chilly and I had nothing about me but a little velvetdressing-wrapper; and my neck was not stiff, though my head hadbeen thrown back, as is a necessity in Communion with God; and Ithought to myself, it is as if my body also had shared in the blessing. 

And this most blessed happening happened to me every day for ashort while, usually only for a few moments. In this way GodHimself caused and enabled me to contemplate and _know_ Him;and I saw that it was in some ways at one with my beautiful pastime, but with this tremendous difference in it--that whereas my mind hadformerly concentrated itself upon the Beautiful, and remaining Mindhad soared away above all forms into its nebulous essence in astrange seductive anguish, it now was drawn and magnetised beyondthe Beautiful directly to the Maker of it: and the soaring was like adeath or swooning of the mind, and immediately I was living withthat which is above the mind: in this living there was no note of pain, but a marvellous joy. 

Slowly I learnt to differentiate degrees of Contemplation, but to myown finding there are two principal forms--Passive and Active (orHigh) Contemplation. 

In meditation is little or no activity, but a sweet quiet thinking andtalking with Jesus Christ. In Passive Contemplation is the beginningof real activity; mind and soul without effort (though in a secret stateof great love-activity) raise themselves, focussing themselves uponthe all-unseen Godhead: now is no longer any possible picture in themind, of anyone nor anything, not even of the gracious figure or ofthe ways of Christ: here, because of love, must begin the sheerstraight drive of will and heart, mind and soul, to the Godhead, andhere we may be said first to commence to breathe the air of heaven. 

There is no prayer, no beseeching, and no asking--there are nowords and no thoughts save those that intrude and flash unwantedover the mind, but a great undivided attention and waiting upon God:God near, yet never touching. This state is no ecstasy, but smooth, silent, high living in which we learn heavenly manners. This isPassive or Quiet Contemplation. 

High Contemplation ends in Contact with God, in ecstasy andrapture. In it the activity of the soul (though entirely without efforton her part) is immensely increased. It is not to be sought for, andwe cannot reach it for ourselves; but it is to be enjoyed when Godcalls, when He assists the soul, when He energises her. 

And then our cry is no more, Oh, that I had wings! but, Oh, that Imight fold my wings and stay!

IV

Having come so far as this on the Soul's Great Adventure all aloneas far as human guidance and companionship was concerned, andhaving for more than a year known the wonders of the joy of Unionwith God--which I did not know or understand to call Union, butcalled it to myself Finding God and coming into Contact with Him, because this is how it _feels, _ and the unscholarly creatureunderstands and knows it in that way--well, having come so far, Ihad a great longing to share this knowledge, this exquisite balm, with my fellows, and I desired immensely to speak about it, to knowhow they fell about it, if they had yet come to it, or how far on theway they were to it, because I was all filled with the beauty of it, aslovers are filled with the beauty of their love. But I was frightened tospeak to them, something held me back: also they felt to me to be soexceedingly full of the merest trifles--clothes and tea-parties andfashionable friends; and each time I tried to speak, in somemysterious way I found myself stopped. So I thought that I wouldspeak to a friend that I had in the Church. Several times I had heardhim preach very beautiful sermons, and I felt I very greatly neededthe guidance of _someone who knew. _ I wanted, I longed for, ahuman intermediary. I knew that I was in the hands of the GodWhom for so many years I had so passionately sought; but He wasso immeasurably great, and I so pitifully small, and I needed ahuman being--someone to whom I might speak about God. 

Yet something warned me not to commence as though speaking ofmyself, but of another person. I said only a few words, of the joy ofthis person in finding and loving God, and immediately my friendspoke very severely of persons who imagined they had found, andloved, God. God was not to be found by our puny, shifting anduncertain love: He was to be found by duty, by obedience to Churchrules, by pious attendance _At Church. _ He explained to me variousdogmas which helped me no more than the moaning of the wind; heexplained the absolute necessity (for salvation) of certain beliefs andwritten sentences, and ceremonials in the Church. Love was not theway. Love was emotion, emotion was deceptive: the mind, andsevere firm attention to the dictates of The Church was what wasrequired; in fact, he unfolded before me the Ecclesiastical Mind. Ishrank back from it, dismayed, frightened. Were all the deep needsand requirements of the soul to be satisfied in the singing of hymnsand Te Deum, in the close and reverent attention to the Ceremoniesbefore the altar, and of the actions of Priests! Did, or could, anyreasoning creature truly think to Find God by merely repeating, however reverently, the same prayers and ceremonies Sunday afterSunday! Could the great mountain up which my soul had sweated, and which each soul must climb--could it be climbed by kneeling ina pew in church? No; a total change of _character_ was needed, andChrist Himself was necessary for this change--Jesus Christ glidinginto the heart and mind and soul, and _biding_ there because of thatheart's, that mind's, invitation to, and love for, Him. Secretly--inone's own chamber, every hour of the day, in the streets, in thefields--in this way it might be accomplished. 

With Christ biding in the heart all the Church service would_become_ a thing of beauty as between the Soul and God; butwithout this Jesus Christ dwelling in the heart, the connection wasnot yet made between the Soul--the service--and the Godhead. 

Perhaps amongst Romans I should find the understanding that Ilooked for. I had a friend, a Dominican: I approached him, and Icould see that for (as he thought) my own good he longed to convertme to the Roman Church: it did not seem that he wanted, or by anymeans knew how, to bring me into contact with God, but his thoughtwas to bring me to _The Church. _ "Does anyone, " I asked him, "love God with all their heart, and mind, and soul, and strength?""No, " said he, "that is hardly possible--what is required is--"; andhere he gave me once more the contents of the Ecclesiastical Mind:more authoritatively, more positively; but he spoke as I nowcommenced to realise all Churchmen would speak--that is to say, aspersons having learnt by study, by careful rule and rote, bypaper-knowledge, that which can only be learnt in the spirit direct fromGod. How immense is the difference to the Soul between thisknowledge that comes of the spirit and the knowledge that comes ofstudy--the knowledge which too easily becomes mechanical religion!

I thought of the beautiful and gracious simplicity of the knowledgethat Christ gives to the soul: I saw the nature of the sore disease thatafflicts the soul of Christ's Church, I saw also a terrible pain forChrist in all this of which I had previously been unaware. 

I was thrown back and into myself by it all, and into a greatloneliness as far as my fellow-beings were concerned. Yet Icontinued to need to share Christ with humanity, piercingly, pressingly. I would go to a library and find a book--but, on the otherhand, I did not know the name of a single religious book or writer. So I wrote my need to a friend, and she sent me the life of one, Angela of Foligno. This book was a great delight to me, because, though written in tiresome mediaeval language, it yet expressed andshared exactly what I also knew and loved, and folded in strangewrappings of the fashion of the thought of long ago lay the sameexquisite jewel that I also knew--the pearl for which men gladly sellall that they have in order to keep it--the knowledge of the Secret ofthe Kingdom of Heaven, of the Union of the Soul with God. 

A few months went by, and I wrote asking for another book, and thistime came Richard Rolle to my acquaintance--a little dried-uphermit, a holy man too, though I noticed how very discourteous hewas to women; severe, critical, and suspicious, merely because theywere women. How often I noticed this peculiarity, both in the monksof to-day with their averted eyes, as if the shadow of a womanfalling on them were pollution, and long ago, Paul, and Peter also, and Moses, and many others, showed surprising weakness ofintolerance and harsh judgment against Woman!

Where was Wisdom in all this? Surely it was Folly flaunting andlaughing and dressing herself cunningly to deceive, for did none ofthese men, from Adam downwards--did they never come to knowthemselves well enough to see that their danger lay not in theWoman, but in _their own inclination to sin!_

Oh, the righteousness of the greatest saint was, and is, but as dustand ashes before the righteousness of Jesus! and I came to wonder ifthere ever was or could be a saint, save one--Jesus. 

But this Richard Rolle, this person so discourteous to somefellow-beings, could all the same be very tender and loving towards God:he, too, held in his heart the Pearl without Price. He, too, knew thatmarvellous incense of the heart to God--that song of the soul, andcalled it by the same name as I; but how could it be called by anyother name? for every soul that knows it, it must ever be the same. Oh, how intimately I knew those two people of centuries ago, andhow intimately they knew me! A strange trio we made--he, the littlewizened English hermit; she, the Italian woman in her nun's habit;and I in my modern Bond Street clothes: outwardly we were indeedincongruous, we had no links, but inwardly we were bound togetherby bonds of the purest gold. 

Of whether my friend sent me another book or not I cannot be sure;but my interest was becoming altogether removed from the past, because Christ was pressing me more and more to the present andthe living. 

V

God says to the aspiring soul: Come, taste of paradise and taste ofheaven, and then return thou to the earth and wait, but not inidleness, and suffer many things till thou become perfect. 

So I found that in the earlier stages, in order to show me the heightsto which I might by perseverance attain, He turned His Power andGlamour on to me, and I became a creature transfixed and held bylove. I had one desire--God; I had one thought--God; I had oneconsciousness--God. There was no effort needed on my part: it wasPure Grace and the result of _past_ efforts. Having climbed andendured and endeavoured up to a certain degree, it was necessary forfurther advance that there should be more knowledge, and a morecomplete ineffaceable assurance. He therefore exposed the soul to asmuch as she could enjoy of heavenly pleasures and consciousness, without death to the flesh. In these experiences the soul found andknew God to be the fulfilment of all desires and all needs. The soulstood steadied before God in an unutterable Happiness which sheperceived had no limit but God's Will, and her own capacity toendure the rapture of Him. 

What is it that would seem to determine this immeasurable privilegeof Access to Him? It would seem to be a healthy willing willtowards Him under all circumstances (to begin with). 

In due time He converts this mere will into a sweet love, the naturallove of the heart and mind--by Gift of the Father we love JesusChrist. This is salvation. 

But beyond salvation it would feel to be this way--after a furthergreat endeavour and endurance on our part, a further great strivingtowards Him, He will awaken and prick to new life the soul and fillus with Holy Love. This is the second baptism, the baptism of theSpirit of Love. This is the entry to the Kingdom, and immediatelywe taste of the Godhead. What this is, what this ravishment ofhappiness is, cannot be known or guessed till we ourself haveexperienced it. 

In all this we progress by the communicated Power of Christ. Howis this Power to be recognised, how is it communicated? Can westand still and receive it like the dew, without work? At first, no--butlater it would almost seem to be yes; or else it is that the exactattitude of heart and mind necessary for the reception of Gracebecomes so habitual, so natural, that eventually we come to live in astate in which the communication of this Power becomes nearlycontinuous--though at any time by negligence or by a wrong attitudeof Spirit _we fall away from it and lose it completely, _ and in alltimes of temptation or of testing we are cut off from _sensible_contact with it. 

We learn then that Grace awaits every creature that attunes himselfto the Will of Christ: it awaits good and bad, saint and sinner, ittransforms the sinner into the saint, and but for its deliberatewithdrawals we might suppose its action to be automatic, we mightsuppose it a fixed power like the sun, shining upon worthy andunworthy alike in degree. But Grace is far more subtle andmysterious than this. Grace is the most sublime, the most exquisitesecret of all the mysteries which exist between the Soul and herMaker. 

* * *

I find that He works upon my soul by two opposite ways: He drawsher up to contact and sublime content; He sets her down to solitudeand hides Himself: He is there, and will not speak. 

And she suffers horribly: and why not? Where is the injustice of thispain?

Countless ages ago--who can count them?--the soul, born in a palace, has deliberately willed and chosen to become the Wanderer, theStreet Walker; therefore fold up self-pity and lay it aside, because itdoes not live in the same house with Truth. 

Cast off self-consciousness and pride, because they are ridiculous, and a man can only be great or noble in just so far as he hasabandoned them. 

* * *

What is it that often makes it so much harder for the soul to refindGod when she is enclosed in the male body? Perhaps the greaterstrength of the natural lusts of the male: perhaps the pride of"Being"--as lord of creation; or the pride of Intelligence which says, I rely easily upon myself, I need no religion of hymn tunes, I leavehymn tunes to women, for the ardour and capacity of my manhoodrush to far different aims. 

But can any sane man think that the Essential Being who has createdthe universe, with all its infinite wonders, and this earth with itsbeauty and its wonderful flesh, and so much more that is not fleshbut the still more wonderful spirit--can any sane man really thinkthat this Essential Being is stuck fast at hymn tunes (which areMan's own invention!) and knows not how to satisfy the needs andlongings of that which He has Himself created!

Ardent and greatly mistaken Sinner, know and remember that toFind God is to Live Tremendously. 

* * *

O belovèd Man with thy strangely vain and small pursuits andpleasures--thy pipe, thy wine, thy women, thy "busy" city life, thineimmense sagacity which once in twenty times outwits a fool orknave--thy vaunted living is a bubble in a hand-basin!

Find God and Live!

PART IV

I

It would seem that lazily, reposefully, comfortably, easily, we canmake no entry into the kingdom of heaven, but must enter by contest, by great endeavour. The occasions of these contests will beaccording to the everyday circumstances of each individual; thestress or distress of everyday life; for this is Christ's Process--to takethe everyday woes and happenings of life in the flesh and use themfor spiritual ends. What does the Saviour Himself tell us of themeans of entry into the Kingdom? He uses two parables--that of theloaves of bread, and that of the Widow, and both speak of persistentimportunity. If we would find God, we must besiege Him. 

Of entry to Christ's Process first it is necessary that we try ineverything to please Him: subjecting our plans, desires, thoughts, intentions, to His secret approval, asking ourselves, Will this pleaseHim best, or that?

Then the soul commences to truly know, and to respond to, Christ. 

But she is not satisfied: she requires more. Woes may assail thewhole creature: Christ offers no alleviation. He leads her straightinto the woes: will she follow, will she hold back? The point toremember here is this, that whether we follow Christ or no we shallhave woes: if we forsake Him, we are not rid of woes; if we followHim, we are not rid of woes--not yet, but later we become eased, and even rid, by means of Consolations, for God is able by HisConsolations to entirely overbalance the woe and make it happypeace, though the cause of the woe remains. Remember this in thedays of visitation, and follow Christ, no matter where He leads. Christ leads _through_ the woe, because it is the shortest way. Theunguided soul wanders _beside_ the woe, hating and fearing it, unable to rid herself of it, gaining nothing by it, suffering in vain, and no Companion comes to ease the burden with His company. 

The progress of our spiritual advance would feel to be that becausewe become more and more aware of the failure of earthlyconsolations and amusements, and more and more aware of thesuffering, the sin, and the evil that there is about us, so more andmore our desires go out towards the good, and more and more weturn to Christ. Then Christ may deliberately make Himselfnon-sufficient for the soul, and if He so does she must reach out after theGodhead; then by means of more woes the soul and the creatureclamour more and more after the Godhead and will not be satisfiedwith less than the Godhead, and, continuing to clamour, are broughtby Christ to the new birth, the Baptism of the Holy Ghost. 

Immediately the soul and creature become rid of Woe; and, living alife altogether apart from the world, in a marvellous crystal joy theytaste of the Godhead and of Eternal Pleasures. 

This for a short time only: we have entered the Kingdom, but arestill the smallest of spiritual children: tenderly, wonderfully Godcares for us, but we must grow, we must learn heavenly manners. SoJesus Christ calls us again, and where does He lead us? Straightback into the world, the daily life from which we thought we hadescaped! Here truly is a Woe, a Woe worse than any Woe we everhad before. Now we enter the Course of spiritual temptations, woes, and endurances, and in the midst of the pots and pans of daily lifeChrist teaches us heavenly manners. 

II

Since Contemplation is so necessary for Union with God and for thesoul's _enjoyment_ of God--is it a capacity common to all persons?Yes, though, like all other capacities, in varying degrees; but fewwill give themselves up to the difficulties of developing the capacity;and it is easy to know why, for our "natural" state is that we workfor that which brings the easiest, most immediate, and mostsubstantially visible reward. 

Those who could most easily develop their powers of contemplationare those to whom Beauty speaks, or those who are delicatelysensitive to some ideal, nameless, elusive, that draws and thenretreats, but in retreating still draws. The poet, the artist, the dreamer_that harnesses his mind_--all can contemplate. 

The Thinker, _thinking straight through, _ the proficient businessman with his powers of concentration, the first-rate organiser, thescientist, the inventor--all these men are contemplatives who do notdrive to God, but to the world or to ambition. Taking God as theirgoal, they could ascend to great heights of happiness; though firstthey must give up ("sacrifice") all that is unsavoury in thought andin living: yet such is the vast, the boundless Attraction of God thathaving once (if only for a few moments) retouched this lostAttraction of His, we afterwards are possessed with no other desireso powerful as the desire to retouch Him again, and "sacrifice"becomes no sacrifice. 

Truly, having once known God, we find life without Him to bemeaningless and as unbeautiful as a broken stem without its flower:pitiful, naked, and helpless as the body of a butterfly without thewings. 

III

At this time I read Bergson's _Creative Evolution_--a masterpiece ofthinking by a man who, like most others, is seeking for God. But Iam unable to read the book through because of the pain it causes. The pain is partly the same pain which I knew (and which I re-enteragain in sympathy with the writer) when I tried in my youth to climbto God by the intelligence and will of my mind; but there is also anew pain, wide as an ocean, the pain of Compassion--for it is solong this way to God that Bergson pursues, so long, so long; and theparticular way of this book is to me not like climbing, butdescending: it resembles the frenzied action of a man searching forlilies downwards, digging with painful persistence in the dark earthamongst roots. How much more joyous to find the lily where sheblooms, above in the light! There is another way of the Intelligence:a way of climbing to icy heights, bare, unwarmed by any ray of love, but less painful than this descent amongst dark roots. Cold, hardIntelligence, once to slip upon thy frozen way is to be broken on thypitiless bosom! O God, in thy tender pity incline our hearts to seekThee by the way of Love! For the road of Love comes easily toknowledge, but the road of knowledge comes not easily to Love. 

And we know that love is above learning and wisdom. Did notSolomon choose wisdom? and we think him so wise to have madethis choice, but he had been far wiser to have chosen holy love. Forwisdom lost herself and him in the arms of unworthy love: so we seethe highest degree of the Wisdom of Man held in bondage to, andundone by, even the lowest degree of love. 

* * *

Dig deeply, and what do we find is at bottom our great, ourpersistent need? What is it that instinctively we look for and desire?Happiness, and the Ever-new. 

In and out of every day persistently, desperately, endlessly we seek. And because we seek amongst the near-to-hand, the visible, thesmall, we seek in vain: we discover there is nothing in this worldwhich can wholly and permanently satisfy either of these desires. 

God Himself is Happiness. God Himself is the Ever-new. 

In Divine Love there is no monotony: the soul finds that eachencounter with God is ever new, the Ever-new tremulous with thebeauty of rapture: new and wonderful as the first dawn. 

IV

Not only is God a Mystery of Holiness, of Truth, of Love andBeauty: He is also Generosity, a mystery of Eternal Giving, and Hisgiving is and must for ever be, the supreme necessity of theUniverse: for without He gave how should we receive life, truth, beauty, love, or Himself?

And it cannot be too deeply impressed upon the soul that wouldcome to His Presence that because of His law of like to like shemust conform to this law in order to come to His Presence. Bythinking it over we shall see that it is more difficult for us to beperfect holiness, perfect truth, perfect love, perfect beauty, than it isfor us to be perfectly generous: it is easier for us to give God all thatwe have, to empty heart, mind and soul, and worldly goods at Hisfeet, than it is to reach to any other perfection; for generosityappears to be more universal, more within our capacities, more"natural" to us than any other virtue--do we not see it continuallyused, exercised, spent, thrown away on the merest trifles? Let ustake, for instance, the tennis player: to win the game he must giveevery ounce of himself to it--mind, eye, heart, and body, --sweatingthere in the glare of the sun to win the game. Would he give himselfso, would he sweat so, in order to find God, or to please God? Oh no!Yet in the hour of death and afterwards, will he be helped by thisvictory of flying balls? If by chance we could lift a corner of the veil, we might catch a glimpse of the face of Folly, mockingly, cunninglypeering at us, as all too easily she persuades us to give of our royalcoins of generosity to wantons, to phantom enterprises, to ballsfilled with air, to dust and vanity. 

Generosity is our easiest means of coming to God, because it is alsothe way of love: if the tennis player did not love the game, he wouldnot give himself so to it. But we cry, "I have nothing whatever togive to God; it is to God I turn in order that He may give everythingto me. " Quite so: there is too much of that. We have obedience togive: obedience is a great gift to God, or, more truthfully speaking, in His magnanimity He accepts it as such; we have also love to give, and again we may cry, "But my love is puny, shifting; it is nothingat all, a mere trifle. " That is true of "natural" love, of the love thatwe commence of our own human nature to love Him with; but it isnot true of the love which we receive of the Holy Ghost when Hebaptizes us. 

When we offer this Peculiar Love, offer it as only it can be offered--forlove's sake, --immediately we are in the Presence of God, secretly, marvellously united to Him; we are in the Consolations of God, andwe have no need to ask for anything whatever; indeed, we findourselves unable to ask, because we are filled to the brim, overflowing, inexpressibly satisfied, utterly blessed. 

But supposing that we do not _give_ to God, but, earnestly seekingHim, we merely ask some favour, and sit and wait for Him to give?Then probably we shall not be sensible of receiving anything fromHim whatever; we shall feel at an immense distance from Him; thenwe shall become uneasy, depressed, fancy ourselves neglected, imagine we have lost Him--and so we have till we gloriouslyrecover Him by means of giving. 

And if at times in the stress of this giving, when He makes noresponse, we feel it is too much, we can give no more, we are toodiscouraged to continue, let us remember the strain and stress andendeavour that we and all our friends give to trifles, and quietly useour common sense to judge whether in the winning of a game of ball, or in the pleasing and finding of God, we shall be the more blessed. For God is to be found: He waits. 

* * *

The truth about our endeavours is that we have one pre-eminent, pressing need above all other needs, which is to Find God. When wehave accomplished this we discover without any further teachingthat we no longer care to pass our time with air-balls, because theyappear so paltry, so inadequate. We are grown up and are no longerpuerile in our desires: at the same time we are not without desires, but, on the contrary, we glow with a new, more ardent, and larger setof desires. 

V

What I know of the soul's actual Finding and Contact with God Ikeep very closely to myself. Here and there to a few, a very fewsouls, I may speak: to all others I am forbidden to speak. I amstopped; and I understand perfectly why this is: it is that I should domore harm than good. Anyone looking at me would say (and all themore so because I am dressed in the fashion of the day, and not insome peculiar way, or in a nun's habit, for such trifling things affectmany minds), "That person is demented to think that she knowswhat it is to have Contact with God, " and it would seem a scandal tothem. But the explanation of the mystery is not so simple as this. Iam not demented. I never was so sane, so capable in my life as now. I never was so perfectly poised as now. But if you say to me, "Explain what it is that you know, in order that I too may know, "then I can say to you nothing more than, "Come and know foryourself, for God awaits you. "

To illustrate a mere fraction of the difficulty of passing such aknowledge from one self to another self, let us take such a case asthat of a man born blind. He sits beneath a tree, on the grass. Youput a blade of grass in his fingers, and also a leaf from the tree, andyou say to him, "This is grass, and this is the leaf of the tree whichshelters you, and both are green. " "And what, " he asks, "is green?"And to save your life you cannot make him know what it is, or makehim know the tree, or know the grass, though he touches them bothwith his hands. How, then, shall God, Who can be neither seen, norheard, nor touched, how shall He be made known from one toanother? He must be experienced to be known. And if you shouldsay to me, "What does it feel like to have found God?" then I shouldsay, "It feels that the roof is lifted off the world, and wherever wemay be or stand it is a straight line from us to God and nothingbetween, nothing between, day or night. "

VI

To come to the contemplation of God it is not necessary to gothrough any lengthy toil, some process of throwing out this or that, painfully, slowly, denying the existence of everything in order toarrive at God. The way is not denying, but concentrating; and in theact of concentration, because of love, all other things whatsoever increation fall away into nothing and are no more, because God in allHis graciousness reveals Himself, and then He alone exists for theenraptured soul. 

VII

Supposing that we have found Jesus Christ, supposing that we knowHim so well and have come to love Him so much that our love forHim is become stronger than any other love, very much strongerthan any other love, and still, in spite of hopes and endeavours, weknow that we have not found the Godhead, we have not foundUnion with the First and Third Person of the Holy Trinity--theheavens have not, as it were, been opened to us to let our souls slipthrough to God. Are we to be discouraged because of this? Are weto think ourselves less favoured, less loved? A thousand times no. We are, perhaps, in neither heart, mind, or soul quite sufficientlyprepared for the great ordeals that must be gone through _afterUnion with God, _ To find God is Victory. But Victory has dangers. We have perhaps not yet sufficiently developed just those exactqualities which it is essential we must have in order to _maintain_the connection with God in the face of all obstacles when once He isfound. When God reveals Himself to a soul she is in great danger, and she knows it, because to fail Him now, to turn away now, to beunfaithful now--this is a terrible disaster to the soul. God in Hismercy exposes no soul to such dangers until she is as ready as maybe, but He bides and He works in her till she is ready. So it may verywell be that it is not in this life that we come to Union, but later; andthe fact that we have not come to Union is a sign to increase ournearness to Christ by as much as we can: the very smallest advancethat we make in this life is of the utmost value to us later. 

VIII

The soul that is seeking Union with God must not, upon any pretextwhatever, engage itself in spiritualism. Spiritualism may have itsgreat uses for the heart and mind which are without, or arestruggling for, belief--the heart and mind of Thomas seeking totouch, to have a proof; but remember the words of the Saviour toThomas: "Blessed are they, " He says, "who have not seen, and yethave believed. " And we do not need to wait for death to receive thisblessing, but we receive it here. The soul that would find God mustgo to Him by means of His Holy Spirit, and no other spirit but theSpirit of God can take us to Him; and to try to hold communicationswith the spirits of men _is not the way. _ The soul that has come toUnion with God is perfectly aware of the existence of spirits--isintensely aware, --but refuses to pay any attention if she wise. Someof these spirits are very subtle, very knowing; some are full offlattery, and very persistent; others present themselves as still inhuman form, and seek to terrify with their terrible faces, somediabolical, some appearing to be in a great agony and undergoingchanges more astonishing and horrible than can be even imaginedbefore experienced--and melting only to be re-formed into thatwhich is yet more fearful. Have nothing whatever to do with spirits. Do not resist them when they come, but drop them behind by fixingheart, mind, and soul on Christ. The Spirit of Christ easilyovercomes every spirit, every evil, every fear, and in order toourselves overcome all such things, we need to unite with the Spiritof Jesus Christ by concentrating upon Him with love, and ignoringobstructions. Those who have lent themselves to spiritualism, hoping to find comfort, a lost friend, or even God Himself, whenthey give it up (as they must do) they may find themselves greatlyplagued by the fires with which they have been playing; but thesecan soon be overcome by diligently uniting the heart and mind toJesus Christ. 

IX

After coming to full Union with God, the mind becomespermanently attached to Him, _and this without effort;_ but in orderthat it shall be without effort, the will must be kept in a state ofloving attention to Him, and this again can only be done withouteffort if the heart is so full of love that it desires nothing else thanGod; and this is dependent again upon the grace which the soulreceives from Him because of her love and response--so now we see, living and working in our own being, the reason and meaning of Hiscommandment to love Him with all the heart, mind, soul, andstrength. It is doing this _after He has Himself given us the power todo it_ which makes us able to live in the closest, most delicious andprecious nearness to God during all our waking hours. But it takestime, and it takes much pain to learn how to live this, as it were, double life--this inward life of companionship, of wonderful andblessed inward intercourse with God, and the outward intercourse ofthe senses with the world, our everyday duties, and ourfellow-beings. In our early stages we have profound innumerabledifficulties in understanding either our own capacities or God'swishes: we are terrified of losing Him, and yet are often bewildered, and pained also, by some of the higher degrees in which Hecommunicates Himself. We do not understand how to leave God andreturn to earthly duties. Supposing that we are altogether wrappedup in the company of God, and some fellow-being suddenly recallsus to the world (the human voice can recall the soul as nothing elsecan), the pain is so great as to be nothing less than anguish; and ifdone often would seriously affect the health of the body. 

But in a few years we learn to accomplish it without any shock. 

One pain, however, remains, and it grows. I find myself unable tocarry on a conversation with anyone unless it is about God, or aboutsome work which is for God and has to do with His pleasure (andthis is rare, because people are so glued to worldly affairs), for morethan an hour, and even less, without the most horrible, the mostdeathly, exhaustion, which is not only spiritual but bodily--the faceand lips losing all colour, the eyes their vitality: so dreadful is thedistress of the whole being that one is obliged, upon any kind ofpretext, to withdraw from all companions, and, if it is only for fiveminutes, be alone with God and, where no eye but His can see, unitecompletely with Him once more, and immediately the whole beingbecomes revivified. There is nothing else in life so wonderful, sorapturous as this swift reunion of the soul with God; and the joy isnot only the joy of the soul, because the heart and mind have theirfill of it too, for they too have ached and thirsted and hungered andlonged, and now are satisfied. 

If this measureless happiness could only be imagined by us beforewe experience it, how many of us would be spurred to greater effortsinstead of falling back amongst the dust and cobwebs of Vanity!--butit cannot be imagined, and the only way to come to it is by faithand obedience; and it is easy to see why this arrangement isnecessary, for if we could imagine it thoroughly, then we shouldprobably try to get to God only on account of greed, and should findourselves drifting away instead of towards Him; it cannot be doneby greed, greed being one of those things which beguiled the soulaway from Him to begin with; and He does not send the soul Hisfavours till she is free of, and has risen above, the dangers of greedand seeks Him for Himself and not for His favours. As soon as it issafe for her He will give the soul continual favours, because PerfectLove is ever desirous to give, and is only restrained on our accountto withhold favours. The soul which knows how to make allnecessary preparations to receive Him becomes a source of joy toGod, for now He can give and give and no harm be done to that soul;but He does not acquaint the soul too suddenly with all the joy thatshe is to Him, because she would not (at least certainly my soulwould not) be able to bear the knowledge of the privilege that sheenjoys, without some danger to herself, --and so, all unaware of thesingularity of the privilege that she enjoys without any analysis ofher happiness, she concerns herself with sweetly obeying Him, withsinging to Him, and with giving Him all that she has all the day long, and so hovers before Him as delightful simplicity and love. 

This Union with God varies so much in degree that it makes aneffect of endless variety. Yet it is all one same joy, it is the joy ofangels reduced to such degree as makes it bearable to flesh: the soulknows that it is the joy of angels that she is receiving the first timethat she has it given to her: immediately on receipt of this joy shecomprehends the _mode_ of heavenly living; she knows it is but theouter edge that she touches, but what means so much to her is thatshe has _recaptured the knowledge of this mode of living:_henceforth it is a question of progress, she bends all her attention toprogress so that she may get nearer and nearer to God, so that shemay do everything to please this suddenly refound, unspeakablybeloved God. 

She desires to get nearer and nearer to God in spite of the pain thatshe often experiences. Perhaps the first pains we experience arewhen we are in contemplation of God and are caught by God intoHigh Contemplation. He will at times expose the soul to so much ofthe Divine Power that she cannot sever herself from the too greatfulness of Union with God, though the body is crying to her to do itand the sufferings of the body are all felt by the soul, which is pulledtwo ways: all this is very painful and makes us almost in a _fear_ ofGod again. Why should Perfect Love inflict this pain on us? It maybe to remind us that He is not only Love, but Power, Might, Majesty, and Dominion also. Yet could this ever be forgotten? It seemsincredible. But it does not do to trust to one's soul, or to count onwhat she will do or not do: we know that the soul has forgottenalmost everything about God, so much so that we are now thankfulto arrive even so far as being quite certain that He exists! Whatinfinite kindness that He should consent and condescend to Himselfbe her Teacher! But He does so condescend, and the more the soulrelearns of God, the more she also learns that He is never weary ofworking for us all: this keeps the soul in a state of intense gratitude. 

* * *

When the soul arrives at Union with God, does she remain always inUnion? Yes, but not at the degree of Union which is Contact. Whatis the difference? It can perhaps be most easily explained (thoughextremely imperfectly) by referring to the union of married life. Inthis union, though we live in one house, we are not always both inthat house at the same time; but this does not dissolve our union, andwe both know our way to return there, and the right to meet isalways ours. When we are both in the house, although not in thesame room, there is a much nearer feeling about it, and we are apt togive a momentary call one to the other, just to have the pleasure ofresponse: yet, though we are aware the other one is in the house andthat there is no part of the house where we are forbidden to meet--itis not enough; love requires more: it will be necessary for one to goand seek the actual presence of the other (the soul does this by aquiet prayer with perhaps a few words, but more probably no words). The one finds the other one; but the other one is occupied, so the onewaits patiently (this is passive contemplation), and suddenly theoccupied one is so constrained by love for the waiting one that hemust turn to her, open wide his arms, and embrace her--they meet, they touch, they are content. In spiritual life this is contact or ecstasyor rapture. Here comes in the immensity of the difference betweenjoys physical and joys spiritual--physical joys being limited to fivesenses: spiritual joys being above senses and open to limitlessvariations; but in order that these may be known in their fulness, wemust eventually (after leaving the flesh) rise to immense heights ofperfection: the joys enjoyed by the Archangel would _destroy_ alesser angel: the degree of joy that invigorates the saint, that sendshim into rhapsodies of happiness, would _destroy_ the sinner--(becominginsupportable agony to the sinner). This celestial joy is, fundamentally, a question of the enduring of some un-nameableenergy. How can energy be a means of this immeasurable Divinejoy? After years of experience I find I cannot go back upon theknowledge that I acquired on the very first occasion ofexperience--that energy _is a fundamental principle of the mystery. _

But how, it may very well be asked, do sins interfere with thereception of this activity? Sins are all imperfections, thickenings ofthe soul from self-will: pure soul is necessary for the _happy_reception of this celestial activity, and because impurities areautomatically dissipated by this activity, and the dissipation ordispersion of them _is the most awful agony conceivable_ when toosuddenly done, what is bliss to the saint is the extremity of torture tothe sinner. Now we come very fearfully and dreadfully tounderstand something more of the meanings, the happenings, of theJudgment Day. Christ will inflict no direct wilful punishment on anysoul; but when He presents Himself before all souls and they beholdHis Face, immediately they will receive the terrible might of theactivity of celestial joy. The regenerated will endure and rejoice; theunrepentant sinner will agonise, and he must flee from before theFace of Christ, because the agony that he feels is the dispersal of hisimperfect soul; and where shall the sinner flee, where shall he go tofind happiness? for saint and sinner alike desire happiness, and thereis in Spirit-life only one happiness--the Bliss of God. So then let usbe careful to prepare ourselves to be able to receive and endure thishappiness, even if it can at first be only in a small degree, so that weshall not be condemned _by our own pain_ to leave the Presence ofGod altogether and consequently lose Celestial Pleasures; let us atleast prepare ourselves to remain near enough to know something ofthis tremendous living. 

It was this Divine Activity which on the night of the Too GreatHappiness so anguished my imperfect soul. But that night, and thatanguish, taught my soul what she could never have learnt by anyother means, and what it was I learnt I find myself unable to pass onto anyone; but that night was for my soul the turning-point of herdestiny, that night altered my soul for evermore; that night I knewGod as deeply as He can be known whilst the soul is in flesh. 

* * *

God uses also a peculiar drawing power. All souls feeling desiretowards God are to a greater or lesser degree conscious of this, and, as we know, frequently remain conscious of it as a desire andnothing further to the end of life in flesh. By means of it He draws asoul towards Himself until, because of it, the whole being is willingto make efforts at self-improvement, and this is the essential: it isthis cleaning up of the character, this purification, which alone canbring us to the point where we can receive God's communications ofHimself (in other words, ecstasies and periods of reunion withCelestial-living). Ecstasies inspire and awaken the soul: theyconvince the mind absolutely of the existence of another form ofliving _and of God Himself. _

After ecstasy the efforts of the entire being are bent on trying toperfect itself, and extraordinary Graces may be freely and almostcontinually given to us in order to make improvement more rapid forus. The feeling for God which before ecstasy was a deep (and oftenvery painful) longing for God now increases to a burning, never-ceasing desire for Him: only three thoughts can be said to trulyoccupy a person from this stage onwards--how to please God, howto get nearer to Him, how to show practical gratitude. He mayincrease the flow of His Power to a soul till she is in great distress, longing to leap out of the body owing to the immensity of God'sattraction. This attraction at times has a very real and sensible effectupon the body: it feels to counteract gravity, it makes the body feelso light it is about to leave the ground; it affects walking, andunaccountably changes it to staggering. To receive this attractioncan be an ecstatic condition, but is by no means ecstasy. So long aswe have power to move the body by will we are not in true ecstasy. In ecstasy the body feels to be disconnected in some unaccountablemanner from the will; it lies inert, though it knows itself and knowsthat it stills lives--which fundamentally differentiates it from sleep, because in sleep we do not know our body, we do not know if weare alive or dead, we know nothing. In ecstasy is no such blankness:merely the body is perforce inert, it would be entirely forgotten butfor its periods of distress. 

Neither can ecstasy be confused with dreaming, by even the mostsimple person. In dreaming, objects and events of a familiar typestill surround us; the total inconsequence with which they presentthemselves alone makes dream-living unlike actual living, for itremains fundamentally of the same type--physical and full ofpersons, forms, objects, and word-thoughts. We can procure sleepby willing it, but we cannot will to procure ecstasy: we find it totallyindependent of will. 

The Attraction of God can be a penetrating pain, because the soul, terribly drawn to God, exceedingly near Him, yet remainsunsatisfied even in this close proximity. Why? Because she is beingsubjected to one Force only--she longs, she remains near, andreceives nothing. God is not bestowing His Activity upon her, whichis the way that she "knows" Him--she is not living the celestial life. 

It is the combination of the two Forces working togethersimultaneously on and in the soul which differentiates ecstasy andrapture from all other degrees of God-Consciousness. When thesetwo Powers work together, we experience celestial living, full Union, the bliss of Contact. It cannot possibly be said that in ecstasy we seeGod: it is a question of "knowing" Him through the higher part ofthe soul, in lesser or in deeper degrees. 

X

If the Divine Lover gives such joys to the soul, how does the soulgive joy to the Divine Lover? Is she beautiful? She becomes so. Also the soul is a poet of the first water, though she uses no words;and the soul is a weaver of melodies, though she makes no sound;but above all, and before all, the soul is a great lover. Now we knowin this earthly life that a lover desires above everything else the loveof her whom he loves. Only when she whom he loves returns hislove, can he truly enjoy her. 

So also the Divine Lover. O incomparable Love! Love gives allwhen it gives itself, love receives all when it receives Love. 

By love, then, the soul is the Delight of God. 

XI

The soul feels to be formless; though we become aware of a_spreading_ which causes her to feel of the form of a cup or a discwhen she receives God, and in contemplation she feels toextend--flame-like until she meets God. She can wait for God--spread, but cannot maintain this form for long without God rejoices her by Histouch. How can so formless a thing, still waiting for its SpiritualBody, be beautiful? She is beautiful because of the colours she isable to assume: she can glow with such colour as no flower on earthcan even faintly imitate. Celestial colours are beyond all imagination. As the soul grows in purity and is able to endure an increase of theDivine Radiations and Penetration, so she changes her colours; byher colours she delights the eye of her Maker, He touches her, shebecomes yet more beautiful. 

* * *

Very early in the morning God walks in His Garden of Souls, and inthe evening also, and in the noonday, and in the night. 

The soul that knows Him knows His approach, and, preparing andadorning herself for Him--waits. 

XII

Does God come and go? The soul feels Him there, and not there. Isshe mistaken in this, and God always to be possessed, but she notdressed to receive Him? If this is so, then how grievously frequent isour failure!

It is more encouraging to our own state to suppose that God lendsHimself and withdraws; that He will be possessed; and He will notbe. But this involves caprice. Can Perfect Love have caprice?

We find that grace can be received without intermission for weeks, even months, together. Without coming and departing (although inlesser and greater intensity) the Presence of God, Love and Comfort, envelop the soul. So then we learn by our own experience that Godis willing to be present amongst us continually in His Second andThird Persons. 

Yet, although He is present in His Two Persons, the soul is not filled:she is unspeakably blest and happy, but not wholly satisfied till Heis present to her in His First Person also. She knows immediatelywhen He so comes, and then the Three become One, and when Theybecome One to her, in that moment the soul enters Bliss. It is truethat if He so came to her very frequently, the soul could not endureHim; but certainly she could endure Him more frequently than shereceives Him. It is not because she is worthy that she possesses Him:the soul never, under any circumstances, feels worthy: it is lovealone which enables her to possess Him, and this love that sheknows how to shed to Him is His own gift to her. 

So the soul cries to Him, O mystery of love, was ever such sweetgraciousness as lives in thee: such exquisite felicity of giving andreceiving, in which the giver and receiver in mysterious rapture ofgenerosity are oned! And this mystery of love is not in paucity ofways, but in marvellous variety of ways and of degrees--the ways offriendship, the brother and the sister, the mother and the child, theyouth and the maiden, and Thyself and we. 

Love makes the soul ponder on His tastes, His will, His nature. DoesHe prefer even in heaven to possess Himself to Himself in His FirstPerson? or are there parts of heaven where He is ever willing to bepossessed in His fulness: where He is eternally beheld in His ThreePersons by such as can endure Him? The soul believes it, and this isthe goal she strives for both now and hereafter. 

Yet there is That of Him which is for ever Alone, which will neverbe known or shared by the greatest of the Angels. The soulcomprehends that He will have it so because of that Solitary whichsits within herself, she who is made after His likeness. 

XIII

For many years before coming to Union with God, I found that ithad become impossible to say more than a little prayer of some fiveor six words, and these were said very slowly: at times I wasastonished at my inability, and ashamed that these pitiful shredswere all that I could offer, and always the same thing too; I tried tovary it--I could not. When I tried to say some fine sentence, when Itried even to ask for something, I could not; it all disappeared in afeeling of such sweet love for God, and I merely said again the sameold words of every day. I loved. I could do nothing more than say so, and then stay there on my knees for a little while, very near Him, fascinated, adoring. But God is not vexed with a soul when shecannot say much. Is an earthly father vexed when his child, standingthere before him, forgets the words upon its lips, forgets to ask, because it loves him so? Far from it. 

This prayer is the commencement, the foretaste, of Contemplation. A distinguishing mark between this prayer and Contemplation is thatin even the lowest degree of Contemplation God (if one may soexpress the inexpressible) is Localised. Hitherto His Presence hasbeen near--but we cannot say how near, or where, and _we cannotbe sure of finding it. _ After Union we are certain of finding God'sPresence everywhere, and at any time. He may at times be far away, or pay no attention to us; but we know whereabouts He is, and wecan go and wait outside that place where He has hidden Himself andwhich is no place (but a figure of speech): He merely disappearsfrom our consciousness, but not so entirely but that we can partlyfind Him. All this cannot be explained, but after Union God is aspresent to the soul in Contemplation (and far more so because of thegreat poignancy of it) as is a fellow-creature whom we actually seeand touch, much more so because between ourself and a fellow-creature, however dear, is always a barrier: try as we may there is alwaysa dividing line between two persons. We are two: we remaintwo. But when we meet God there is nothing between us and God, nothing whatever divides us, and yet we are not lost in God--that isto say, we do not disappear as a living individual consciousness, butour consciousness is increased to a prodigious degree, and we areOne with God. 

XIV

This Oneness, in a tiny degree, can be experienced by two personswho are in close spiritual sympathy when both are simultaneouslyand powerfully animated by very loving thoughts of Christ, or areworking together, and _giving_ on account of Christ: then a fluidinterchange of sympathies and interests takes place in which thebarriers of individuality go down. 

This same fluid interchange in a still lesser degree takes place inordinary friendship between two friends of similar tastes; but thisinterchange must always be with the mental and the higher part of us, it can never take place because of the merely physical, for in thephysical, dependent as it is upon senses, barriers always exist: wesee this in the union of lovers--their union is merely a transitory_self_-gratification, although it may include another self in that it ismutual; but more frequently it is not even mutual, and what is apleasure to one is at the moment distasteful to the other, though theone can easily conceal from the other that it is so, provinghow complete the duality of consciousness and of feelingremains between two individuals who depend upon contiguity of_substance_ (or the sense of touch) for their union, and not uponspiritual _similarity_: in spiritual similarity alone is _identity_ offeeling and personality and perfect union to be found, and in thisidentity _deceit is impossible. _

XV

The more we investigate the question of satisfactions the more wefind that these, in order to be permanent, must take place upon avery high level, upon a plane above materialism. However much wemay with our sense of taste enjoy a dinner to-day, it will be no joywhatever even a week hence. The natural everyday facts should (andare intended to) prove to us the futility of giving so much time andthought to the pleasures of the flesh: these pleasures lead nowhere, they end abruptly, they are very limited, being confined to fivesenses, and consequently, owing to a necessity of continualrepetition, satiety supervenes, and there remains nothing else to turnto. Yet when this happens we are really very fortunate, because itmay be a cause of our searching amongst our higher faculties for ourgratifications. 

XVI

The soul finds it bitterly hard to rid herself of selfishness andself-will: she gets rid of one form, only to find herself falling toanother. When first my soul reknew the Joy of God I said to myself, "Iwill hide it in my own bosom, I will keep it all to myself. I am becomeindependent of all creatures, I want none of them, I cannot bear thesight or the sound of them, how joyfully I leave them all behind!--Iwant only my God--I want--But what is all this?--I want, I will, I, I, I, I!" Later the days come when God hides Himself from me: I cango and wait at His threshold (because when she knows the way Henever denies the soul the threshold, though He denies her Himself). Imay pour out all the sweetness of my love, but he makes noresponse; I may sing to Him all day: He will not hear; I may giveHim all that I am or have, and He will not communicate Himself tome. Then I remember all the years of my striving, I remember thestress, the sweat of all that climb to His footstool--the sweat that attimes was like drops of blood wrung out of the soul, out of the heart, out of the mind; and yet all forgotten in the instant of the rapture ofFinding. Did He then beckon and draw and delight the soul only tomadden with the anguish of more hiding and more striving: was Heto be found only that He might again be lost? My soul sickened withfear, and I said, Love is a calamity; who can release me from theanguish of it? O God, since I may no more possess Thee, grant that Imay shortly pass into the dust and for ever be no more, so that I mayescape this pain of knowing Thy Perfections and my own necessityfor Thee; and I mourned for Him till my health went. 

Weeks passed, and three words came constantly to me: "Visit mysick. " But I did not listen: I was sick myself with a deadly wound. Almost every day the same three words came; but I turned awayresentfully from them, saying to myself, "What have the sick to dowith me? I am weary of sick people: I have been so much with them. Must I accept the sick in place of the ecstasy of God? I mourn forthe loss of God. I can cheer no sick. "

The words came again, with excessive gentleness, and thegentleness was like the gentleness of Christ, and it pierced. So thatday I go to the village and visit the sick again, and I look at themtenderly and lovingly, and tenderly and lovingly they look at me, and some say, "It is as if God came into the house with you"; andtears come to my eyes, and I say, "It may be so, because He sentme, " and they gaze at me lovingly, and lovingly I gaze at them; andit seems to me that I can no longer tell where "they" cease and where"I" begin, and the sweetness, the peculiar sweetness, of Christpierces me through from my head to my feet--that sweetness that Ihave not known for weeks. And so I comprehend that Holy Love isnot alone just Thee and me, but it is also Thee and me and the others, and Thee and the others and me. 

* * *

I wanted my own way. The way I wanted was to be free in order toworship and bless God in a beautiful place, in some place that _I_should choose. I wanted to worship Him, and to sing Him the Songof the Soul from some quiet hill among the olive trees by theMediterranean Sea. I wanted this marvellous, this almost terrible, joy of meeting God in a beautiful place that _I_ should choose: Iwanted it so that it became spiritual greed--spiritual self-indulgence. 

Duty, heavy-winged duty, prevented my taking the journey; duty toan always-contrary relation, now unwell. It was only a littlething--just a journey prevented, but it crossed my self-will; and in animpatient, detestable way that I have, I wanted to push all duty, evenall human relationships, anywhere upon one side, or over the edge ofthe world, so they might all fall together out of my sight and I befree!

Because I thought these thoughts, I came to the Place of Tribulation. And the Messenger came, and he said, "Escape, and the way isconsenting. " But I said, "No, I will not have that way, I will escapeby some other way. " So I tried every other way, but found it guardedby something which seemed to be armed with a hammer; but Ipersisted: then for days and nights my soul stood up to the hammersand received terrible blows, and still I persisted--I would find a wayto escape that should please my will. But I could not eat, I could notsleep, the flesh visibly lessened on my bones, and at last I loathedmyself and my own will and my own soul, and I cried to God, "ShallI never be through with this terrible struggle with self-will?" andgroaned aloud in my despair. 

Then the words that were sent long ago to a saint, and that he wasinspired to write down to help us all, now came and did their workfor me through him: "My grace is sufficient for thee. " And so Ifound it, and more than sufficient--when I consented. 

Who is it, what is it, that so punishes the soul? Is it God? No. Patiently, lovingly He waits. Our pain is the difficulty of consentingto perfection: every virtue has a hammer, every perfection a longtwo-edged sword; and the punishment we feel is the breaking andwounding of self-will under the hammers of the virtues and thesword-thrusts of the vision of perfection. 

Put aside these wretched, these sometimes awful and terrible, battlesand punishments, shrink from them when they come, and we mayput aside salvation. Accept them--stand up to the hammer and takethe blows and learn: consent to the sword that pierces up to the hilt, and what do we come to?--The Blisses of God. 

PART V

I

After coming to Union with God, our prayers become entirelychanged, not only in the manner of presenting them, but changedalso in what is presented. Petitioning is a hard thing. I had found iteasy to pray for others whether I loved them or not, with the lips andwith some of the heart; but I found that I could not do it in the newway, with all my heart, mind, soul, and strength, so that everythingelse fled away into nothing and was no more, except that for which Ipetitioned God. A perfect concentration for the welfare of a strangeror of some cause was a very hard thing; yet I was made aware that Imust learn to do it. 

For two or three years I suffered pain and exhaustion over thispetitioning; I would be so fatigued by it, found it so great a strain, that I said to myself, "I shall lose my health over this petitioning, foras I do it, it is as though I gave my life-energy for the cause orperson for whom I pray. " But my Good Angel whispered me not togive in, but continue to be willing, continue to be generous, nomatter the cost. I am not generous, but I went on with it, and secretlyhad the greatest dread of it; my whole nature shrank from the effort, from the strange loss of vitality this petitioning brought. 

Then at last, after more than two years, because of remaining willing, because of trying to remain generous about this, to me, mostgrievously hard prayer, one happy day God lifted away all the strainand difficulty, all the pain and fatigue, and turned it into the sweetestof prayers: into a new song, a new honey, new music, a new delight, in which the soul has, as it were, but to sip at the nectar of His Loveand Beneficence, to bring it to a fellow-soul. 

I found that God causes the soul to pray this joyous, this exquisite, prayer for total strangers, passers-by in the street, fellow-travellersby road and rail, here and there, this one and that, she knows whichone it is: how surprised these persons would be if they knew that atotal stranger, who never saw them before and never will see themagain, was joyously, lovingly, holding them up before God for Hishelp and His blessing! and they receive His blessing. God does notprompt such prayers for nothing. Is this favoritism? No; they aresecretly seeking Him. 

II

When the soul is united to God a great change comes over the mind, which now thinks continually, lovingly, of God. God not merelyhoped for, looked for, as in the past, but God found and known, Godclose and near; interruptions come and go, but the mind, like apendulum, swings back to God, nothing stops it; the soul streams toHim: she discovers Him everywhere: she knows her way to Him, and she has not far to go. Her own door is also His door. There aremany degrees of intensity about this condition, which can increaseto such an extent as to entirely interfere with our everyday duties. When it is increased to this degree it would appear (certainly attimes) to be on purpose to teach the soul a self-abnegation which shecould not otherwise learn, because, together with an intense, almostterrible, attraction and desire to be alone with God, will come thepressure of a duty which it is obvious God would wish us to attendto: this is a severe and a very continual lesson to the soul--the lessonof learning patiently to continue some sordid work in this world, after finding the joys of the spiritual life. 

What are amongst the most noticeable changes in the mind? first, wenotice it has become very simple in its requirements, and veryrestful; it no longer darts here and there gathering in this and that offancied treasures, as a bird darts at flies; it has dropped outsideobjects, in order to hover around thoughts of God, which at the sametime are not particularised, but, as it were, quietly, contentedly, floatin a general and peaceful fragrance of beauty. 

Ordinarily the mind would find it difficult to hover in this way withsuch a singleness of intent, but in certain other cases we see thesame contentment--in the mother beside her babe: though she maynot talk to it, or touch it, she is happy; she knows it near; she issecretly giving to it. We see it in the babe also: it gazes at its motherand is quiet; if the mother removes herself, the child may cry; noone has hurt it--merely, it has ceased to be happy because the objectof its desire has gone too far from it, has disappeared. We see it alsoin two lovers; they sit near together, and the more they love thefewer words they require to speak: they are happy: they require veryfew words, very few thoughts. Separate them, and they spend theirtime uneasily in sending messages, in thinking numberless yearningthoughts which become painful, and, if continued for long, canaffect the health. Put them together again, and they barely say twowords: their joy at meeting occupies the whole of their attention. Itis the same when we love God. The heart, and the mind, and the soulare blissfully content, they are in a love-state, they bask in HisPresence; but that we should be aware of His Presence--this is Hisgift, this is the vast difference between our former and our presentstate. 

When we have become experienced in this Presence of God, theReason tries very earnestly to comprehend the manner of it. Christsays that when love is established between God and a man, "MyFather and I will come to him and make our abode with him. " Howcan such a tremendous thing as this be carried out without, as it were, burning the man up with the greatness of it? Does God, then, whenexperienced feel to be a Fire? Yes, and no, for we feel that we shallbe consumed, and yet it is not burning but a blissful energy of themost inexpressible and unbearable intensity, which has the feelingof disintegrating or _dispersing flesh. _ The experience is blissful toheart and mind only so long as it is given within certain limits:beyond this it is bliss-agony, beyond this it would soon be death tothe body; and the soul feels that in her imperfect state it can sooneasily be the dispersion of herself also: this is a very terrible feeling:this does not bear remembering or thinking about. How, then, can itbe possible that God can take up His abode with us and we still live?

In all contacts with God we notice one fact pre-eminently--they donot take place with the mind, but with that which was previouslyunknown to us, and which communicates the joy and the realities ofmeeting God to the mind. What is this? It does not live in the heart:it lives, or feels to live, in the upper cavity of the chest, above theheart, and below the throat-base. It can endure God. It is spirit, itfeels to be a higher part of the soul: we might call it the Intelligenceand Will of the soul, because it acts for the soul as the mind acts forthe body, it is above the soul as the mind is above (more importantthan) and rules an arm or leg. The more we experience God, themore we are forced to comprehend that we have in us an especialorgan in this spirit with which we can communicate with God andby which we can receive Him without the mind or body beingdestroyed. For when God takes up His abode with a man He willcommunicate Himself to this loving Spirit-Will or Intelligence inecstasies. And through His Son He will communicate Himself inanother manner, to the heart and mind, so graciously, with such atender care, that without the stress of ecstasy we are kept in adelicate and most blessed Awareness of God. In these ways we canknow, even in flesh, the beginnings of the true love-state, thebeginnings of the angelic state, which is this same love-state brought_to completion by Beholding God. _

III

Although this blessed condition of Awareness of God is a gift, andat first the mind and soul are maintained in it without effort on theirpart, it being accomplished for them solely by the power of theGrace of God, yet later--and somewhat to their dismay afterreceiving such favours--they discover that it must be worked for inorder to be maintained. The heart must give, the mind must give, thesoul must give: when they neither work nor give they may findthemselves receiving nothing: God ceases to be present to them. Generosity on our part is required. It works out in experience to bealways the same thing that is needed for our perfect health andhappiness--reciprocity. Without we maintain this reciprocity weshall experience _extraordinary disappointment. _

IV

The soul is now blind: we know this by experience; but do we knowthat she ever had sight? If she did not, but was created imperfect, and was so created in order that only by work and merit she shouldarrive at completion and perfection and Behold God (instead ofmerely, as now in this world, being able only to apprehend Him bythe retrospect of His effect upon her), then she was always belowangels. If through work and obedience she becomes so raised thatshe merits sight and the actual Beholding of God, then she becomesequal to angels because of this Beholding; and so Christ tells us thatshe does as the Child of the Resurrection. 

It is the inability of the soul to comprehend, after experiencing thebliss of Union with God, how she came to embark upon thiswandering and separation, which so presses the Reason for anexplanation of the fall of the soul. 

It may be that not all souls are fallen, but that some are merely inprocess of progressing to sight. These are Righteous Souls. But thereare more souls also created sightless, who are fallen by curiosity, byinfidelity or plain self-will and forgetfulness--these it is who needthe Redeemer: "I come not to call the Righteous, but sinners torepentance. " From this it would seem that there are souls who, though they are in this world, are yet fundamentally righteous: notfallen, but working to receive sight. It is inconceivable to the soulthat, had she ever Beheld God, she could have left Him, but notinconceivable to her that, having never Beheld Him, she may havebeen unfaithful on her road to Sight. She understands this awfulpossibility after coming to Union with Him from this earth, becausethen she learns the immense difficulties of maintaining this sightlessUnion. 

She knows the terrible solitude and testing it entails, and theinnumerable temptations when low-spirited and lonely to turn tointerests and consolations apart from God; for God will frequently, in the later stages of progress, withhold every consolation andcomfort from the soul, leaving her solitary. Will she stay? Will shego?

V

We hope for much from "education"; but what education is it thatwill be of enduring value to us? Is it the education which teaches usthe grammars of foreign languages, scientific facts, the dates whenwars were won, when kings ascended their thrones, princes died, artists painted their masterpieces, that will bring us to our finestopportunities of success? To the soul there is little greater or lesschance of success offered by the degree of "polish" in the educationwe have the money to procure: the peasant who cannot read or writemay achieve the purpose of life before the savant: we know itwithout caring to acknowledge it to ourselves: the education that wereally require is the education of daily conduct, the education ofcharacter, the education by which we say to Self-will, to Pride, andto Lusts, "Lie down!"--and they do it!

* * *

When a soul knows herself, has repented and become redeemed, sheknows all other souls, good or bad: there are no longer any secretsfor her, no one can hide himself from her: she sees all these openand living books, reads them, and avoids judging and bitterness inspite of the selfishness, stupidity, and frailty revealed on every page:she finds the same faults in herself; selfishness, stupidity, andweakness are engraven upon herself; the redeemed and enlightenedsoul with tears perpetually corrects these faults: the unenlightenedsoul does not--this is the difference between them. 

VI

For some time after coming to Union with God we remainconvinced that all now being so well with the soul all will be wellwith the body also, and the health does improve and become morestable; but the day comes when we learn that God is not concernedwith saving flesh, and that the body must share the usual fate--weshall continue to suffer through it. But we also discover that therecan be a marvellous amelioration to this suffering. By raising theconsciousness to its highest--that is to say, by living with the highestpart of the soul _and waiting upon God_--we can experience suchvery great Grace that the poignancy, the distress, of pain disappears. For instance, the following is from my experience. Trouble hascome, trouble of several kinds: the death of one very dear; severeillness to another; for my brother a serious operation; for myself aslight one, but a very painful one--in fine, a variety of trials allcoming together as they have a way of doing. I feel terribly nervousand fearful of the pain of my own operation and my brother's also:he is the brother who once saved my life, he is the being who morethan anyone on earth I have most loved since early childhood. So Ihang on to God. I hang to Him, not by beseeching Him to relieve orrelease me from any of these inevitable happenings, but by the way Ihave so slowly been learning, in which a creature, by means andbecause of love, passes out of itself and is able to hand over to Godeverything which it is or has or thinks or does, and in exchangereceives His Peace. So I hand over my brother and my dead and myanxieties for self into His hands, and I go to my operation with thesame serenity that I should go to meet a friend. I notice that I ammore calm, less nervous, than anyone else. 

The anaesthetic fails before the operation is completed:consciousness returns and becomes aware of atrocious pain andblood-soaked busy instruments. Yet by Grace of God the mind andsoul are able immediately to raise and maintain themselves in highconsciousness of God, and the operation can be finished without acry or movement of the body: no automatic shrinking takes place. And this Grace is continued for days afterwards, so that in recallingthe torturing incidents, and though the pain of wounds continuessevere enough to interfere with sleep, yet my mind remains quitecalm, like a quiet lake over which, without ruffling its waters, hangsa mist--a tranquil shroud of pain that has no sting, no fear, no fret. 

VII

After coming to Union with God I _never lacked anything, _ and thisduring the most difficult times of the war, and under every and allcircumstances. Being careful to try and observe how this wasworked, I saw it was very naturally and simply done by everyonebeing given an impulse to help me, always without any request tothem on my part: the porter, besieged by twenty persons, would beblind to all and, coming straight to me, would offer his service; thetaxi-driver, hailed by a waiting mob, had eyes and ears for no onebut myself, yet I had made him no sign except by looking at him. The same with the coal merchant and his coal, the same with alltradesmen, the same with servants. I never lacked anything for onehour: _but I continually asked Christ to help me. _

Since coming to Union with God, I have had innumerable trials, some of them tortures, but have been brought safely out of every one. I afterwards found that each trial was exactly what was needed forthe alteration of some objectionable characteristic in myself. No trialthat came was unnecessary. When its work was accomplished, thetrial disappeared. 

* * *

Can it be said that Union with God in this world entails upon usincreased sufferings here? Yes. But these sufferings are not owing toabnormal occurrences: nothing will happen which is not thecommon lot of humanity; merely we are caused to feel that whichwe do experience, very acutely; and after Union with God all earthlyconsolations must be abandoned: until we abandon these we do notknow how we have depended on them, how they have protected usfrom depression, loneliness, boredom, and discontent. Abandon allthese earthly consolations and interests, and at the same time _beabandoned by God_ (sensible Grace is withdrawn), and immediatelyour sufferings become very severe, though our outward circumstancesmay appear, and may actually remain, of the very best. Ifour house is a fine one, we must live in it completely detachedfrom its attractions: the same with regard to our friends, ouramusements, our wealth, and all our possessions. It is obvious thatin learning to do this we shall often suffer. The soul has painfully tolearn that without God's Grace there is no virtue, no righteousness, and no sanctity: she learns by going forward upon Grace--perhaps tosome great height: then Grace is withdrawn, the soul falls back, andfeels to fall lower than she ever was before, and usually she fallsover a trifle. Amazed, unspeakably surprised and humiliated, andashamed, the soul learns to know herself--to know herself with God, to know herself without God. When she is with God, there seems noheight to which she cannot rise: this gives great courage: more andmore she abandons everything distasteful to God in order to uniteherself more securely to Him. 

We have no sufferings that are not useful to us. Looking back on mylife, I see how many troubles I suffered: how often my healthsuffered (malaria and sun fevers, and lightning and itsconsequences): how I was and still am kept in a somewhat fragilestate of health, though quite free of all actual disease. I see in thisfrailness, especially during the earlier years of my life, an immenseprotection: given full and vigorous health, combined with my selfishand passionate temperament, and I know very well I should havefallen in any and all kinds of dangers at all times. I was not to betrusted with robust health, and even after all the mercies andblessings God has showered upon me I do not trust myself. I stillremain the sinner, fundamentally and potentially at every step thesinner. But Love and Grace surround the sinner. Love and Gracesave the sinner from himself: Love and Grace can beautify and makethe sinner shine. 

My physical sufferings are not to be compared with the sufferings Isee others endure, and endure cheerfully: this is a great shame andhumiliation to me, because I have not learnt to suffer cheerfully: Iam too easily undone by suffering and by the sight of suffering inany living thing; but although one may be a coward--that is to say, one may inwardly shrink from every kind of suffering, --one can be, and it is necessary to be, quite submissive; and to refrain from theslightest rebellion or selfishness--this is what God takes note of. What a difference there is between the selfish and the unselfishsufferer: how the one makes everyone around him miserable, wearsthem out body and soul; and how the other calls out all that is best inothers and strengthens all that is best in himself! It is not soimportant whether we are secretly cowards or heroes; what mattersis how we deal with sufferings when they come, what reaction wepermit or encourage on their account in heart and mind and soul. There is nothing but suffering that can cleanse us, nothing but painand misfortune which can so thoroughly convince us of our ownnothingness, and break self-pride: joy will not do it; joy can donothing more than refresh us after our sufferings, and in almost alllives we see how joy is made to alternate with sorrow: it encourages, it stimulates to further endeavours (this is the reason that God, at acertain stage of progress, gives extraordinary blisses, ecstasies, andso on), but it does not disperse our blemishes: the dispersal ofspiritual blemishes is, as we know, the main reason of life in theflesh; it must be done, and the sooner the better: then we can finish, once and for all, with flesh existence. Righteous and very virtuouspeople may be able to dispense with Divine joys and consolations: itis doubtful if many sinners can--they require the confidence, thecertainty, the enthusiasm which is naturally kindled by suchexperiences. So then we find that the vicissitudes of life, the endlessdaily trials, do not go because we find God. But His Grace comes, and when His Grace is with us wet or shine is all one, love andbeauty gently sparkle everywhere; and then the heart cries out tohim, Every day is like a jewel, every day I see the whole worlddecked and garlanded with all the beauty of Thy mind: each tree, each flower, each bee or bird tremulous with the life and wonder ofThy creative ingenuity! Each day is a new jewel set upon thenecklace of my thoughts of Thee. 

VIII

One of the trials that we have to endure as beginners is a joyless, flat, ungracious condition; a kind of paralysis of the soul, a dreary torpor. When we would approach God--pray to Him--He is nowhere to befound: He has disappeared, and everything to do with finding Him isbecome hard work, such hard work that it suddenly seems to usquite unprofitable: we suddenly remember a number of outsidethings which we would far sooner do: we try to pray, but the prayergoes nowhere-in-particular; it has no enthusiasm, no force behind it:has prayer then suddenly re-become a duty? This is terrible; whatshall we do--shall we ask God to help us? When we do, we do it inso halfhearted a manner that our prayer feels to merely float aroundour own head like some miserable mist. We feel certain that thisjoyless, withered state will endure to the end of life on earth (theconviction that our unhappy condition is permanent is characteristicof all severe trials, because if we supposed the condition ordifficulty only momentary it would not produce a sufficient trial, and consequent effort to overcome it on our part). This trial (thoughit may not always be a trial, but an actual blemish of the soul, aserious lack of unselfish love which must at once be strenuouslycorrected) is given for several reasons--we have become, perhaps, too greedy of _enjoyment_ of prayer: or we have come to take thisjoyousness of prayer for granted: or we have come to think we areuncommonly clever at knowing how to love and to pray; that weknow so well how to do it that we can do it of our own power andcapacity without God's assistance. 

Or the trial may be sent not for any of these reasons, but solely inorder to increase the strength and perseverance of our love to God, and of our Generosity. 

This is one trial, and another is that God allows us to becomeconvinced that He has nothing more to give us, He withdraws Hisgraciousness from our apprehension; He leaves us as a tiny, unwanted, meaningless speck, alone in a vast universe. It would beidle to say that the soul does not suffer from this change; but thesesufferings are just what she requires in order to develop courage, humility, endurance, love, and generosity. These two trials--the onewhen love is all dried up on our part, and the other when we thinklove must be all dried up on God's part--are the finest possibletraining and exercise for the soul, but they are only such if the soul_tries ardently to overcome them:_ it is in the effort to overcomethat virtue is learnt, progress made. 

There is one most splendid remedy. Is it asking of God? No, it isgiving to God. We give Him thanks and we bless Him, and we tellHim that we love Him, and we do it with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength, and this becomes possible even though a moment agowe were so far from Him, so tepid, seemingly so estranged: itbecomes possible because we remember all the wonderful thingsthat God has done for us and given us, and made for us, and sufferedfor us; and in remembering these it is impossible but that love andgratitude, like a torch of enthusiasm, will presently flare up in us. 

If God never gives us another thing, we will adore Him for Hiskindness in the past, we will adore Him for Himself, for what He is. Desolation and tepidity vanish. Joy returns, the trial is over; but itwill come again perhaps a few hours hence, or to-morrow, or everyday for weeks: the remedy is ever to be reapplied, and the remedywhen thoroughly applied never fails in immediate efficacy; but ithas to be constantly repeated: never let the heart and mind forgetthis. 

IX

The heart, mind, soul, and will work together and lead together thereasonable earthly existence; but there is another part of the soul, ahigher part, which has its own intelligence, which leads no earthlyexistence, has no direct recognition of _material being;_ thinks noearth-thoughts, judges by no man-made standards, sins no earth-sins. Has this part of the soul, then, never sinned? _It feels_ that it hassinned, though it cannot say how or when, but it _feels_ that this sinwas direct as between itself and God, and is the cause of itsseparation from God; and it feels this sin to have been _aninfidelity. _ It is with this part of the soul that we sin theunforgivable sin against the Holy Ghost, which cannot be sinned bymere natural man: (here we touch the mystery of the two orders ofsinning which, to the initiated, are seen both to be covered by thesame commandments). This higher part of the soul mourns andlongs for God with a terrible longing, and can be consoled, satisfied, by God only; He communicates Himself to this part of the soul. Sinsof heart and mind do not injure it, but retard it: it cannot becorrupted by material living, because it does not connect itselfdirectly with earth-living, it "responds" to God alone; but earthlysins delay it, paralyse its powers, postpone indefinitely its return toGod. Is it this part of the soul which we ordinarily speak of as theWill? It cannot be, since it is with our Will that we consent toearth-sins. Have we, then, two Wills? It is reasonable and it conforms withexperience to say that we have two Wills--a Spirit-Will conductingSpirit-living, and a Reasoning or Mind Will, conducting the affairsof earth-living: the lower part of the soul is the meeting-place andthe intermediary between these two (often opposing) Wills, it is theground upon which they work and have their fruitions. 

The Spirit-Will is the Will by which we finally become united toGod. Before regeneration we are unaware in any keen degree of itsexistence; but it may exist for us in a vague and confused manner asan incomprehensible, undefined yearning: we cannot satisfy thisyearning, because we do not know what it requires for itssatisfaction. It is above conscience: conscience has its seat in thelower soul, there it deals with the affairs of earthly life. ThisSpirit-Will is so far above conscience (which can be used, cultivated, improved, or destroyed, according to our own desire) that it is notgiven into the keeping or cognisance of the "natural" man, butremains unknown, inoperative until reawakened and impregnatedwith renewed vigour by direct Act of God in the regenerated man. This awakening, this reinvigoration, would seem to be synonymouswith the Baptism of the Holy Ghost. 

If it is awakened only by Act of God, in what way can we be heldresponsible about it? Our responsibility, our part, our opportunity isto so order the lower or earth-will that God shall see us to beprepared for the awakening of the Spirit-Will. 

This Spirit-Will, once awakened, is never again shut out from directcommunication with God. Even when Grace is withdrawn, thisWill-Spirit can come before God and, no barrier between, know Him_there_; although He may deny it all consolation and leave itlanguishing, it yet retains the consolation of its one supremenecessity--that of knowing _it has not lost Him. _ It waits. 

X

Like knows like: it does not "know" its opposite, but is drawntowards its opposite before and without "knowing" it: here we havethe cause of the condescension of the Good towards the imperfect, and of the aspiration of the imperfect to the perfect long before itcan "know" the perfect. Without this attraction of like to oppositethe imperfect could not become the perfect (we desire, are drawn toGod, long before we are able to know Him). The imperfect is able tobecome the perfect by continually aspiring to it: it graduallybecomes "like. " There are no barriers in spirit-living, therefore thereis nothing to prevent the soul becoming perfect, save its ownwill-failure. The barrier existing between material- or physical-living andspirit-living can only be overcome in and by a man's own soul: inthe soul these two forms of living can meet and become known bythe one individual, who can live alternately in the two modes, but itis necessary that the will and preference shall be continually givenand bent towards spiritual-living, physical-living being acceptedpatiently and as a cross. Then flesh ceases to be a barrier tospiritual-living. This is the work of Christ and of the Holy Ghost. Becausethe soul has recaptured the knowledge of this rapturous living we arenot to suppose that it is possible to continually enjoy it here orintroduce its glories into social and worldly living: it is between thesoul and God only; but earth-life can and should by this knowledgebe entirely readjusted. 

XI

Are we correct in saying or supposing that this world with all thatwe see in it (because perishable) is not real, and that the Invisible isthe only Real? We are using the wrong word: all that we see here isreal after its own manner: it is intentional, it is designed, it ismagnificent, it is the evidence in fixed form of the SupremeIntelligence; how can we venture to call it unreal, nothing, negligible? It is a question not of Reality or Unreality, but of greaterand of lesser Activity. In this world we see the Divine Energyslowed down to its least degree: we see it so much slowed down thatthe Divine Ideas can become crystallised into a form and for theirdecreed period remain fixed. It is exactly this which the soulrequires in order to recover her lost bearings. She needs theBeautiful, the Good, and the Bad made sensible to her in _fixedobjects, _ and Time in which to consider them and make her choicebetween them. When Spirit-living is experienced, we become awarethat in spirit-life Activity is of such an order as to preclude the modeof it being in fixed forms and objects: so there is no fixed visibleBeauty, no fixed visible Good or Bad, no fixed _results, _ and thesoul "sees" and "knows" only _that which she herself is like to. _ Ifshe is bad, she cannot become better by the privilege of looking atthat which is good. If she thinks or desires wrong, she remainswrong: she must think Right in order to produce or "know" Right. She loses God because she can no longer think godly, and nothing isfixed by which she can trace Him: it is like to like, and thisinstantaneously without pause (or time). Here in this world Likemay behold its Opposite: Bad may behold Good and, because ofbeing able to behold it, may go over and join its will to Good: it isable to do this, because the evidence of Good remains fixed whetherthe beholder or thinker is good or bad. 

What is our quest in this world? It is to refind the lost knowledge ofCelestial-living. Our Goal is God Himself. Our salvation does notdepend upon our finding Celestial-living, but our finding this livingdepends upon whether we have found the way of Salvation. ThisCelestial-living is here, at our door, but we cannot retouch it withoutAct of God. What is essential to obtaining this Act of God? Is itnecessary to belong to this or that Denomination, to perform this orthat ceremony, to stand up, kneel down, or prostrate ourselves ahundred and one times, visit shrines, handle relics, endlessly repeatfixed words and sentences? No, these will not do it. Christianity _inits full meaning, _ a repentant and clean heart and mind--these willdo it. It is a direct affair between the soul and God. It is Thee and me. This is immense condescension on the part of God. Love alonemakes such a condescension possible. 

As in free spirit we think a thought and become it, have a desireflash to it and are it, it is easy to see how in thinking thoughts thatare not godly, desiring that which is ungodly and imperfect, we passfar from God by "becoming" imperfection; and, having "become, "find no satisfaction, satisfaction resting with God only. Havingceased to think godly, the soul loses God, becomes insensitive, andfalls into darkness, thinks of her own wretchedness and, thinking ofit, is held fast to it. Being miserable, she thinks to Self; thinking ofSelf, she is bound to the solitude of Self--blank solitude withoutfixed objects to amuse, without fixed Beauty to lead higher, torestore, to calm. Is all this tantamount to saying that when separatedfrom God Spirit-life is less desirable than earth-life? It is: for thenwe are "dead" to celestial-living, and in Spirit-life all other living ismiserable living. Hence we see the dire necessity of the soul for aSaviour: the necessity of fixed forms, of time, of flesh (which is afixed stay-point for the soul), of the Incarnation of the Saviour _inflesh_ in order that He may guide the soul amongst these fixedforms, Himself showing her which to choose and which to cast aside:we see the necessity of time in order that, though we have anungodly thought, we have _time_ to repent and choose a betterbefore, in a horrible rapidity, we are inevitably _become that whichwe had thought. _ In this world, this stay-point for the soul, the mostlost is enabled to enjoy and perceive Beauty and Goodness. Howmuch more easy, then, to return to godly thoughts, to the Good, toGod Himself! But though her Saviour is in this world so near to thesoul, she does not always seek Him. He belongs to the Invisible. Intoxicated at finding herself amused amongst fixed objects whichshe enjoys lazily through fixed mediums of the five senses, shedevotes herself to these objects, surrounds herself with them, forgetseverything else. "It is harder for the rich man to enter the kingdomof heaven. " But she must abandon object-worship: this is not to sayshe is to deny the existence of objects, calling them unreal; she mustdespise no created object, for each is there to form for her anobject-lesson. She has two choices: she can see the objects, remainsatisfied with them, and seek no further. Or, she can see the objects, admire them, but seek beyond them for their Instigator and Creator. Nowshe is on the track of God. All is well. 

But all this is not that Adam may recover his perfection, for when, and for how long, was Adam "Perfect"? We behold him sinning atthe very first opportunity. In the Fall of Adam we see merely thecontinuation in the stay-point of time and of flesh, of the history ofthe fallen soul--sinning the same old sin, Self-will. 

The way of return to God is the same way by which we came outfrom Him--reversed. We came away by means of greeds andcuriosities imagined by Self-will. The return is by casting awaythese greeds, casting away all prides, all selfishness; and whatself-loving soul is there that could or would, left alone to herself, conceive of following such a way of cruel necessities, of such hardendurance without an Example before her? For the way is a hardway, a toiling way, at times an awful way, and as we pursue it theburden grows heavier, the pain sharper: then it grows lighter as thesoul becomes renewed; and the pain is no longer the pain ofloneliness, of sin and sorrow, but becomes the pain of Love, waitingin certainty for an ultimate Reunion: it becomes pain which is beingforgotten in the returning happiness of God. 

But first must come the abandonment of Self-will, bit by bit, to thedeath. So we see upon the Cross Christ stripped of everything, andat the last stripped even of Union with the Father: consenting to bearthe pains of even Spiritual Death: "My God, my God, why hastThou forsaken Me?" If there could be any greater depth of pain, Hewould have shared that also with the wandering soul. So we areindeed one with Him in everything: and He with us. 

In Spirit-life we meet the Ideas of God uncrystallised into any form. They penetrate the soul--she flashes to them, she becomes them, shereaches unimaginable heights of bliss by "becoming. " This form ofjoy is incomprehensible until experienced: it is stupendous living, ifit may be so expressed it is happiness at lightning velocity; but it is alightning happiness which must flash to God. When it ceases to dothis in a full manner, it ceases to be full happiness. When it becomesfurther perverted, diverted, and, finally, inverted, it ceases to be anyhappiness whatever. It is independent of surroundings: what itdepends on is a perfect reciprocity with its own Source. That thelaws which govern this Divine living will not be altered to suitwandering souls is not to be wondered at; but a new system may becalled into being, and we may be able to perceive it in this world, evolved from first to last with its substance, forms, creatures, flesh, and time, in order to assist such wanderers. God _spends Himself_for every wandering soul. 

XII

Directly this world ceases to afford us pleasure, we wonder why wewere born. The soul longs for happiness; feels certain she wascreated for it. So she is. Looking at the masses of drab, ugly, andunsuccessful lives around us, we may well ask what purpose andwhat progress is there in the lives of all these hopeless-lookingpeople. But there is not one life that does not have brought before it, and into it, the opportunity of, and the invitation to, self-sacrifice, and in a greater or lesser degree this is accepted and responded to byall. There is far more soul-progress made by these grey-looking livesthan would appear on the surface: they accept self-sacrifice--theyaccept Duty--all is well. Very much progress may not be madeduring the one earth-period of life, but some is made: we driftedaway slowly from God; our return is slow. 

XIII

Love is not the mere pleasant sentiment of the heart we are apt toconsider it: it is _the animating principle of the soul, _ it is the reasonand cause of her existence: it is a God-Force. When a soul does notlove God she has ceased to respond to this Force; she is no longer a"sensitive" or _living_ soul: when she becomes insensitive, she hasbecome what flesh is when it is "callous. "

This insensitiveness is the one great predominating disease of thesoul: it is the cause of the darkness in which the soul finds herself inthis world: it is this which causes our unawareness of God and ofCelestial-living. How can we commence to remedy this disastrousstate? We can act nobly, we can be generous, doing what we do asthough it were for love, although it is merely Duty which animatesus. This will be more or less joyless, because love alone can makeacts joyful; but though it may be joyless it will advance the soulimmensely: it will advance her to the highest degrees required byGod in order that He shall Retouch her. When He Retouches her shebecomes reanimated, she once again commences to live for andbecause of love: she becomes "sensitive" to God. This Retouchingmay occur only after the soul is free of the body--but the body is thehouse in which our examination must be passed, in which we mustprepare and qualify for this Retouching. Hence the importance ofcontinuing to make every effort _in this life. _ The soul which takesChrist into herself, loves Him, obeys Him, tries to copy Him, qualifies fully for this Retouching. 

XIV

In early youth life may be, and often is, a joyous adventure: little bylittle we grow aghast at the amount of suffering which life reallystands for--our own sufferings and those of others, of which, owingto our own pains, we gradually take more and more note. Why allthis suffering? It appals, it frightens, it makes upon many hearts andminds a sinister impression: how is this suffering of innocents to bereconciled with the Benign Will of a God Who is Perfect Love? Letus cease thinking that indiscriminate suffering to creatures is theWill of God. What is it, then? It is the inevitable--the longdrawn-out sequence to the soul's departure from God--the Source ofHappiness. 

To inhabit flesh is no paradise, but it is a means of regaining heaven. There is no misfortune, suffering, sorrow, disappointment, or pain, which is not consequent upon this departure of the soul from God. Are there here any truly "innocent" persons? To be here at all pointsto a fault of the soul, to infidelity to God--the "Original sin" inwhich we are born. 

The beginning of Salvation is to think. Nothing causes us to think somuch as sorrow, suffering, and pain; and they melt the heart also, and they humble pride. The man who has never suffered, and neverloved, is more to be pitied than the paralytic: his chance of Life isremote. 

How can we reasonably expect that the road back to our long-sinceforsaken God is to be smooth, pleasant, velvet-covered. Whatdivides us from God? Is it happiness, beauty, and light?No--self-indulgence, rocks of evil, ugly greeds, places of sin andselfishness. Can we climb back through all this, most of it indarkness, without tears, without pain, without every kind of anguish?

Over this part of the road is no peace; but continue, and, little bylittle, peace comes. 

* * *

We say that we must find Christ; but where, and how, shall we findthis Mighty Lord, Who comes out from the Father to meet theProdigal? Must we study in ecclesiastical colleges, travel to distantlands, visit holy places, kneel on celebrated sacred ground, kissstones, attend ceremonies, look at bones?

No! Stand still! Just where we are is the place where we can meetHim. Just where we stand to-day can be as sacred, as blessed, as theHoly Land. Some little wood sprinkled with flowers, our own quietroom, an unknown, nameless hillside--these can be as holy as MountCarmel, because He meets us there. 

* * *

In all these experiences of the soul which has refound God, what isit that truly rejoices her? Is it the learning and knowledge that thepursuit of Truth may bring her to? She values Truth and knowledgebecause they lift her towards Him Whom she seeks and loves. Doesthe soul rejoice in ecstasies because they are ecstasies? No: what shevalues is the recaptured knowledge and certainty of heavenlyliving--in however small or brief a degree she is able to attain it inflesh: and because in the experience of ecstasy _she knows Him to Whomshe belongs. _

All other affairs become nothing whatever. Life on earth is nowentirely a means of relearning how to please Him Whom she hasfound. Her concern is that she may quickly so prepare herself thatshe may behold Him for ever. 

It may well be asked of a soul which claims to have found God, How does she know that she has encountered Him?

We have a Critical Faculty. It is above Reason, because it sifts andjudges the findings of Reason, throwing out or retaining whatReason has deduced. This is a Higher-Soul faculty: it concerns itselfsolely with knowing Perfection. Reason is not occupied withknowing Perfection, but in analysing and digesting all alike that isbrought to it. 

It is to the Critical Faculty that art, poetry, and music appeal, andmake their thought-suggestions. We do not enjoy music because ofthe noise, but because of the thoughts suggested by it--we float uponthese emotion-thoughts (we may float low, we may float high, anddo not know to where; but it is somewhere where we cannot getwithout the music), so we say we love the music; but it is theemotion-thoughts we love. The sound and the thoughts suggested byit appeal to the Critical Faculty of the Soul, and, if it is perfectenough to be accepted by this faculty, we may pass, for the timebeing, into soul-living, but only very delicately, tentatively, andnothing to be compared to the soul-living, produced by the Touch ofGod. When God communicates Himself to the soul, she lives in amanner never previously conceived of, reaching an experience ofliving in which every perfection is present to her as Being there insuch unlimited abundance that the soul is overwhelmed by it andmust fall back to less, because of insupportable excess of Perfections. This perfection of living is given, and is withdrawn, outside of herown will. Which is the more sane and reasonable--for the soul tothink, I have invented and originated a new and _perfectlysatisfying_ form of living; or for the soul to conclude that she hasbeen admitted to the re-encounter of perfect- or Celestial-living? Inthis living are happenings which cannot be communicated, or evenindicated to others, because they reach beyond words, beyond all orany other experience, beyond any possible previous imagination orexpression of mind, beyond all particularisation; it is these occasionsof experience which the Critical Faculty regards as being encounterswith the Supreme Spirit, because they are complete; nothing iswanting; they afford life at its perfection point--a stupendousFelicity, and that _Repose_ in bliss for which all souls secretly long. It is the meeting of the Wisher with the Wished, of Desire with theDesired: and yet, being that which it is--unthinkable Fulfilment--it isabove all, or any, Wishes, and beyond Desire; it can be known, butnot named. 

By these experiences the knowledge of the soul becomesenlightened two ways: she knows what bliss is; she knows the fullcalamity of life away from God--in flesh, in this world: not that fleshis not a wonderful Idea, not that the world is not greatly to beadmired for its beauties, but the reawakened spirit desiresspirit-living, cannot be pleased with earth-living, cannot be satisfiedwith less than God Himself. So, then, the logical consequence is that thisworld becomes a place we desire to take leave of as soon as may be. Life here becomes a punishment: not that Perfect Love desires topunish, but that the soul now knows that any form of life in whichshe is restricted from continual access to Him is a disaster, aprofound grief. 

XV

If the soul looks to God to comfort her, asks for His help, and getsit--and since communication with God is dependent upon somedegree of like to like, --it follows that the soul must maintain areadiness to "give" to fellow-souls: to fail in this is to fail in any sortof resemblance to God. Hence we see how carefully Christ enjoinedupon us to "Give to them that ask": and in no niggardly way either, but wholeheartedly, for "God loveth the cheerful giver. "

If we say that we apprehend God by that which is not Mind, whatreason have we for saying that it is not Reason which receives Him?Because for this living which God's touch causes us to share withHimself we find that Space, Infinity, and Eternity are required andReason stands, and remains, uncomprehending and dumbfoundedbefore all three. It is Spirit, the flash-point of the soul, whichreceives and transmits and which lives this living. As we have anheredity of flesh so we have also an heredity of Spirit which of itsown nature comprehends the ways of God and the mode of God'sliving. In High Contemplation we find that if Reason attemptsactivity, nothing is consummated: she must submerge herself andwait: soon Reason discovers the wherefore of this--her activity is notthe activity of That Other. Only by that which is like in activity canThat Other be received: this "like" is not herself: finally she comesto know this "like" as a higher part of the soul--Spirit. When Spirithas received and given it to the soul, then it is afterwards the part ofReason to attack from every side that which has been received, todigest it, absorb it, and share it, in fact though not in act. Accordingto the health and strength of Reason so we shall successfully dealwith and use that with which the Spirit presents us. By comparisonwith the magnificent Spirit-Activity or Spirit-Intelligence theReason is limited and frail as a new-born babe: this is no humiliationto Reason, since she should not be expected to accomplish thatwhich is not her part. 

Why do not all men apprehend God? It is very questionable if allmen desire to do so, because in the recesses of each man's soul liesthe consciousness that there will be some great price to pay. 

But beyond this there arises the question, Is it desirable, price or noprice, that all souls should come while still in flesh to immediateknowledge of, and contact with, God; and after long and closethinking the experienced soul will answer No, and Yes. No, in so faras the apprehension of the Godhead is concerned; Yes, and mostvitally Yes, for Christians, in so far as Communion and Contact withChrist is concerned. Why this distinction? Because the apprehensionof the Godhead is beyond the requirements of salvation andredemption, and the world and flesh were created for those purposes. Though there is no limit to the heights to which the soul may aspire, and all souls are invited eventually to behold the Face of God, if sobe they shall be able to prepare themselves to endure Him, there areto a soul still in flesh the most terrible dangers in knowing theFullness of God even so far as His Fullness may be Known to Flesh:never perhaps in all her history is the soul in such danger as she isafter coming (in flesh) to the apprehension of the Godhead: and thisdanger may extend in an acute degree over a period of many yearsand can never be said to cease altogether. The Soul Knows and feels, when in its acute stage, this horrible danger without comprehendingits exact cause and nature, but it has about it the feeling thata man might have standing balanced on a narrow pinnacle. Unapproachable, untouchable only so long as he remains upon thesummit, the eyes of a thousand enemies watch for his smallestdescent: they watch day and night. What alone can enable the Soulto maintain such a position? Hourly, often momently, Communionwith Jesus Christ. What makes such perseverance likely or evenpossible on the soul's part? Only love can make it so. 

If we say Communion with Christ is for the Christian vital to a fullredemption, and therefore the Apprehension of Him is essential, towhat degree should we experience this Apprehension of Him? Thedegree at which, perceiving in Him and His ways our Ideal, webecome willing to modify and change _our manner of thinking anddoing_ in order to meet the requirements of this Ideal. Having goneso far, the soul is likely to become enamoured of Him Personally:then all is indeed well for her. 

So then we find that we can apprehend God by an ever-ascendingscale of degrees. We can apprehend Him with the Reason and theheart at all hours of the day. We can seek and approach Him withthe holy white passion of the Mind. Yet this is not the Apprehensionof Him which alone can be termed Contact, and which alonesatisfies the soul or gives us the full feeling that we Know God. Wecannot "Know" God as fully as He can be known by flesh withoutwe enter ecstasy; but it is not ecstasy which produces the meetingwith God, but the meeting with God which produces the ecstasy. Though we are able to enjoy a continual apprehension of Him withheart and Reason, no man could endure an unremitting ecstasy. 

Can ecstasy be prepared for? Yes, if we have courage to aspire to it, it can be prepared for by a contemplation of Him in which, tocommence with, the Will, Mind, and heart, in great activity of love, send forth all their powers towards God: then for love's sake beingglad and willing to become nothing, and becoming, as it were, deadto themselves and all interests and desires usual to them, by Act ofGod their normal living is then taken over into a greater living. ThenHe comes. 

And when He comes the Reason does not receive Him, but thatcertain small part, little more than a point in the soul receives Him. 

Apart from the joy of it, what is the true value of ecstasy to him towhom it is granted? It raises him above Faith into Certitude. Thepeace and strength given by Certitude are such that Joy is neitherhere nor there, the soul can wait for it, because, no matter what mayafterwards happen to such a one, he remembers, and remains onceand for all aware, that God Is, _and that He can be Known_: helearns also a new knowledge, but cares nothing for this because it isknowledge or because it is power, but because it brings him nearerto his God. 

Having once learnt the knowledge that comes by ecstasy alone, truthto tell, the soul would be content to receive no further ecstasy inflesh; but, intoxicated with love and worship, she best enjoys herselfdoing all the giving, for when He comes and gives He bursts downall her doors and, under the awful stress of Him, the soul hardlyknows how to endure either Himself or herself. 

Life in this world is a life for spiritual weaklings. Our eternal Self isan Intelligence, a Desire, and a Will, and the life we live with it is noidle, torpid, confined living such as we have here, but is a living _inLiberty, _ without limit, restriction, fatigue, or satiety; in it wordthoughts and thinking are superseded; by comparison to it even thehighest thought-achievements of men, their noblest aspirations, appear like the sand-castles of children. Ravished at such furtherrevelations of the Genius of God, the soul at last knows satisfaction. It requires perfection in order to be permanently operative, becauseonly in perfection is Freedom found, and because for the living of itnothing can remain but such Essentials of the soul as _cannot bedispersed. _ It is a measureless Generosity and an ecstasy ofReceiving and Giving. To say that purity and perfection are requiredfor this living is no mere arbitrary dictum, but a scientific fact: theimpure, imperfect soul finds herself unable in perfect liberty andfreedom _to expand to interaction_ with the Divine Activity. Whenthe process of Return is sufficiently completed and, being still inflesh, we enter for a brief time this living, Reason, Pain and Evil, Yesterday and To-morrow disappear. Reason is gathered up into, and superseded by, the spiritual and wordless Intelligence: Pain andEvil, their part and work accomplished, are dispersed and banishedinto the mists of darkness. 

So the soul may learn even from this world something of themystery of the Depths of God. She may enter into the happiness ofUnion with the Three in One: the One Whom in a state of glory yetto come she may Behold. But beyond This of Him which He willallow her to Behold, beyond This of Him in which she may reposein bliss, and beyond this Repose which He wills her to know of Him, He shows her that yet more of Him Is which He will share--heightsof Felicity beyond all measure, holding the soul till she must prayHim to release her, or she will perish--reeling depths of rapture in amystery of light; bliss beyond bliss for that lover who shallventure--all Eternity unfolding in fulfilment. 

And yet remains That of Him which wills no reciprocity, but sharesHimself with Himself. So peace Is. And so, even in not giving, Heyet does give that which is most precious, for without He Himself inHis forever hidden depths were Peace, His creatures could neitherknow nor have peace. 

Looking into herself, what does the soul perceive? Apart from sinsand virtues she perceives two things--caprice and free-will. Neitherare of her own creation, but are essentials of her being. It may bethat in caprice and free-will she may find an answer to those twoquestions which stir her to her depths: What is she that God shouldso love her? and how comes she to be away from Him? Clothed inthe body of either man or woman, the soul is predominantlyfeminine--the Feminine Principle beloved of, and returning to, theEternal Masculine of God. Caprice is feminine; Caprice andMystery are two enchanting sisters, and in Woman we see them asbeing irresistible to Man. Angels, though they are a glory of God'sheaven, cannot alone satisfy all the needs of their Creator: they haveneither sex nor caprice, nor the mystery which joins hands with it. So He creates the soul, and He gives her an heredity of Himself inthe flash-point of the soul, and He gives her sex and caprice andfree-will to deny herself to Him if she choose; and in her caprice shegoes out and away from Him, and when she would return she cannot, because in infidelity she has dropped from perfection. Disillusionedby her unfaithful wanderings and horribly pained, the soul longs forHim, and He longs for her. He Himself must make her the way ofreturn, which is the way of redemption, and at a terrible cost toHimself He shows her His Righteousness and the mode of herReturn in the Face and the Ways of Jesus Christ; and in theCrucifixion He shows her the measure of His love, and in the Crossthe necessary abandonment of all self-will--total surrender. And allthis suffering to Himself He bears in order to make good the wilfulsinning and the misery of the wayward soul. So He brings home thesoul, not by force but by love--that love by which He is at once theLife of everything and everything is the life of Him. 

Absence from God is Pain, and everlastingly will be Pain in varyingdegrees. Are there souls who have never left Him? Undoubtedly, butthey know nothing of this world. Are we perhaps distressed at thismultiplicity of worlds and souls? We need not be, for they are anecessity both of God and of ourselves; for God to Be Himself Hemust give Himself, and who can receive Him? Not even the greatestof all the Angels can alone bear to endure Him? Only into a vastmultiplicity of individuals can God pour and expend Himself to thefullness of His desire, the One to the many. Each individuallyreceives from Him, and each individually and collectively--the manyto the One--returns Him those burning favours which are inCelestial-living. 

Is it all joy to find God? How can it be? Can faults and sins beeradicated without pain? Life here for the lover of God is one longeradication of offences. How can even the daily requirements offlesh be fulfilled without pain? How without profound humiliationand patience can we descend from Contemplation to duties in thehousehold? How without pain consider with that same mind whichhas so recently been rapt in God--the various merits of breads, pastries, and portions of dead animals, in order that flesh shall eatand live! What a fall is this!--a fall that must be taken daily andpatiently. Is it all joy to love God? How can it be? For Love carriesin itself a terrible wound of longing which can never be healed tillwe come before Him in possession Face to Face. 

And many times a day in an unpremeditated natural anguish Loveremembers the sufferings of that meek and holy Saviour; how can itbe a joy to the soul that passionately loves Him to stand before atortured Lord, tortured for her? There never was a pain as hard andsharp as this. There are no tears like the tears we shed to Christ. 

XVI

We say of God that He is Love and Light, Wisdom and Truth. He isalso a Gracious Consenting. So we see the Divine Light Consentingto darkness that it may return to Light, and Divine Love Consentingto infidelity that it may return to Perfect Love. 

But this Gracious Consenting is not because of or since Adam, butAdam "is" because of this Consenting. 

In the flesh of Adam the fallen soul is brought to a stay-point. Anythat have experienced spirit-living even for one hour know that inimmortal living is no stay-point but infinity of movement, in whichmovement the wandering soul becomes lost and finally insensitive. By means of the flesh the soul is brought to that stay-point whereshe more easily receives and understands the impregnation ofConsenting Light, which is the Divine Begetting; and she receivesthe drawing power of Consenting Love: she is directly operatedupon by the Divine Pity Who Himself came to show her the Way ofReturn: first, by the negation or sacrifice of flesh lusts; secondly, bythe sacrifice of spiritual lusts (by which the soul originally fell);until finally, by death to all lusts and infidelities she is reunited tothe blisses of Immortal Life. This is the kindly purpose of our life inthis world. Christ being Eternal Light and Love and Life, we alsoare eternal _who contain Christ. _

So, then, we consent to abandon all lusts of the flesh whilst alsoconsenting to endure any consequences of these lusts in ourselvesand others, not in unwillingness to endure, which is resistance, butin submission. From consenting to abandon the delights of the fleshwe advance to consenting to the withdrawal of all spiritual delightsfrom us: enduring instead spiritual difficulties, standing firm in thestrength of Christ whilst the assaults of self-will and infidelity batterthe soul. 

We consent to abandon self-absorption in the delights of God, and, returning to the world, endeavour to perform all acts of life in theworld in a manner consonant with perfection; but this is impossible:this effort is insupportable without Grace. We cannot do it alone. We learn to know it and to know that we are never alone. Even if wefall into the deepest sin, we are not abandoned by the DivineGraciousness: by consenting to abandon this wickedness we areimmediately reunited with the Divine Consenting, and so onwardsand upwards in an ever-ascending improvement to perfection: andby consenting the soul daily sinks into the balm of Christ and losesher burden. 

We see the Perfection of this divine consenting and abandonment ofSelf-Will in the final picture of the Cross. We see unmurmuringconsent to the death of flesh, consent to the attacks of evil, consentto injustice, consent to infidelity (and straightway they all forsookHim and fled), and, finally, consent to the death of Divine Union:this not without groanings, as being the one supreme and onlyinsupportable Agony. 

XVII

How is it that Perfect Love can consent to the wandering of the soulwith its consequent sorrow and sin? Divine Light, being also PerfectFreedom, consents to the wandering of the soul; but Divine Love, being also Reciprocity, may not consent to such wandering as shallfor ever preclude Reciprocity. The wandering soul must be, will be, Redeemed. 

* * *

If Divine Light, being also Perfect Freedom, consents to thewandering of the soul, but Divine Love, being also Reciprocity, maynot consent to a perpetual wandering, how set limits in a life inwhich perfect freedom must continue? A limit can be fixed by Evil, Evil the outermost circle from God, the shore on which, continuallybreaking and being broken, the soul turns herself in longing to along-forgotten Lord. Evil is the hedge about the vineyard of theParable. The soul is free to touch it, free to pass through it if she will, but touching it she knows Pain. Pain causes the soul to pause andconsider: now is her opportunity; now she is likely to turn about andseek the Good. 

Then the purpose of Evil is fulfilled; then Evil becomes thehandmaid of Good; then we can feel and say with sincerity, Evil hassmitten me friendly, for it has caused me to turn about and seekGood. Good, once found, is found to be stronger than Evil. In a fewyears Good has so drawn us that Evil has become negligible; it liesforgotten on a now distant misty shore. The soul is Homewardbound. 

XVIII

"If the wicked turn from his sins that he hath committed and keepmy statutes . . . All his transgressions that he hath committed, theyshall not be mentioned unto him. "--Ezekiel xviii. 21, 22. 

XIX

Who is so blessed as the Redeemed Sinner? Who can taste thesweetness of God as can the repentant sinner? Who can know Hisgraciousness, His infinity of tenderness and courtesy, as can thesinner? Who knows the heights and depths and lengths and breadthsof God's forgiving love as does the sinner? Who can share with Godhereafter such close experiences as will the sinner?

Can Angels share the memories of His human days with Christ?And who but the sorely tempted sinner can be bonded to Him by themutual knowledge of those bitter, burning, desert days? Not theRighteous, nor even Angels can know quite the full beauty of all thebonds that bind the sinner to his Saviour. O marvellous love of God!O blessed soul, O blessed Adam, blessed even in thy sins!

He desired lovers and had none: Created Angels, and, desiring toprove them as lovers, He made Him a Lure. 

A third of them turned to the Lure and fell to It. They serve the Lureand take their bread from It, and the offspring of the serving is Evil. 

Desiring more lovers, He fashioned souls; yet, when He provedthem, they also fell to the Lure. 

Being lesser than Angels, they served not the Lure, but the offspringof it--Evil--and became subject to Evil. They were made for Love, and in Evil found no Love, and it was an anguish and it tormentedthem. 

And He put them in flesh, that He might limit their suffering andshow them His Light again; covered them about with Limits like amerciful Cloak; hedged them in with Evil as a boundary, so theyshould have no will to fall away further from Him than Evil becauseof the pain of it. 

But in flesh they continued to serve Evil, and the offspring of theserving was Sin: and they were miserable in their service, because ofthe pain of it; yet no soul could break the bondage of service, because no soul could be found that, being subject, did not serve, and in serving lose freedom by its own offspring. 

Then He sent His Spirit to walk with them in flesh, and beingproven as a Lover, was not found wanting, and being subject to Evildid not serve, and remaining Sinless had no offspring to destroy Hisfreedom, and He broke the bondage and showed them a light. 

He sent, because He repented Him of the Proving and of the Evilthat came of it, and His fallen lovers repented and repent of their fall. 

His travail and their travail--the travail of severed Love towardsReunion--is the anguish of the Ages: but the anguish will have anend, because Love is Omnipotence. 

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[Transcriber's notes: The name of the author, Lilian Staveley, is notmentioned on the title page of this text, but I have added it here. I have also made the following editorial changes:

"I am of no value value whatever" to "I am of no value whatever"

"called it it by the same name as I" to "called it by the same name as I"

"God shall see us to to be prepared" to "God shall see us to be prepared"

"the full beauty of all the the bonds" to "the full beauty of all thebonds"]

"(though entirely without effort on her part) is immensely increased)" to"(though entirely without effort on her part) is immensely increased"]