約伯倫理 第 416 章

Verse 16. And when he shall have heard me calling upon him, I do not believe that he hath heard my voice. 29. The alternating motions of the soul in prayer.—For very often the mind is kindled with the fire of divine love, and is uplifted to gaze upon the heavenly and hidden things; it is now caught up to the highest, and, pricked with perfect longing, is estranged from the lowest; but, struck by a sudden temptation, that which had been raised toward God with strong intention is bent down, transfixed by risen thoughts; so that it cannot distinguish itself, and, caught between vices and virtues, does not recognize on which side it is the stronger. For often it is brought even to this, that it wonders how it comprehends things so high, which an unlawful thought defiles;

and again, how it receives unlawful thoughts, when the fervor of the spirit mightily catches it up above itself. Which alternating motions of the thoughts in the soul the Psalmist well beholding, says: They mount up to the heavens, and go down to the depths (Psalm 107:26). For we ascend even to the heavens when we penetrate the highest things; but we descend even to the depths, when we are suddenly cast down from the summit of contemplation through base temptations. The motions of the soul, therefore, while they alternate between vows and vices, doubtless obscure for it the certainty of being heard. Rightly, then, is it said: And when he shall have heard me calling upon him, I do not believe that he hath heard my voice, because the mind, from its very mutability, is made fearful;

and through the fact that it suffers unwillingly, it suspects itself to be repulsed and cast off. 30. The severity of the final judgment. Chiefly upon those whom God's patience long tolerated.—It is pleasing to behold with what subtlety the holy man judges himself, lest the divine judgments should reprove anything in him. For, beholding his own infirmity, he says: How much am I then, that I should answer him, and speak my words with him? Not trusting in the merits of his own righteousness, but betaking himself to the sole hope of petition, he adds: Who even if I have anything just, will not answer, but will beseech my judge. But, fearful concerning that very petition also, he adds: And when he shall have heard me calling upon him, I do not believe that he hath heard my voice.

Why does he tremble with such circumspection, why does he dread with such solicitude, but because he considers the terror of the judge in the final strictness, and, not bearing the force of that sifting, esteems all that he does to be insufficient for himself? Whence also straightway he adds: