and that He is present at last as the perpetual observer of all my actions and thoughts, and—so far as His goodness is concerned—as an inseparable fellow-worker, He plainly shows by the very effect of His work. From this it stands established that, although His face cannot yet be seen by us, His presence can never be escaped. But I confess that, considering this more attentively, I am thrown into utter confusion by both fear and immense shame, that I behold Him, whom I so vehemently desire to please, present to me everywhere and seeing all my hidden things. Oh, how many things there are in me of which I blush before His eyes, and for which I now fear to displease Him more, than I trust that I can please Him for those things which are praiseworthy in me (if there are any)?
Oh, would that I could be hidden a little while from His eyes, until I had wiped away all these stains, and so at last might appear before His sight spotless and without blemish! For how shall I be able to please Him in this deformity, in which I myself too am so greatly displeasing to myself? O old stains, O foul and shameful stains, why do you cling so long? Go away, depart, and do not presume any longer to offend the eyes of my Beloved. Do not deceive yourselves: you shall not always remain with me (with His help), although while I still loitered you could not be exterminated. I have sworn concerning you that I will neither keep nor love you any longer, for I utterly detest and wholly abominate your vileness.
And henceforth, even if I could remain unseen by my Bridegroom, I would still not wish to be defiled by you. How much more now, since I am openly before Him, and since His offense surely grieves me more than even my own vileness. Depart, then; in vain do you cling to me any longer, for even while remaining with me, you are not mine. I judge you alien to my lot, and I will henceforth have no fellowship with you. I have another model to which I desire to be conformed, and to another I look continually, and as much as I can I ever draw more and more thence the likeness. And whence I have also learned this, that I must exterminate you, and how I am to do this I now recognize. MAN.
A wondrous thing is being done with us, at which perhaps you do not wonder, because you do not yet understand what I mean to say. For I consider how, from the beginning of our conversation, you brought forward many things that seemed to be opposed to love, and yet from them the power of love was always not weakened but the more proved. You said that love could not be at once singular and common; but from that it was the more confirmed to be wonderful, because it was shown to be common and singular. You said again that you are not perfectly loved, because you had heard yourself chosen for service, and had not yet seen yourself received into the bridal chamber. But yet again the love toward you is shown to be all the greater, the greater the perfection that is awaited of you through His patience.
Finally just now you began to doubt whether, in this your deformity which (though unwillingly) you endure, you could be loved by Him. But when you doubted this, you no longer remembered that you were once wholly foul and yet beloved. If, then, He deigned to love you now, when you were wholly base and had as yet no comeliness, how much more will He love you now, when you have already begun to be adorned and to lay aside your former vileness? For this too pertains to the praise of His love, that He deigns to love the imperfect. And although He still sees certain things in you which do not please Him, yet He loves this very thing, that you also have already begun to hate in yourself those things which displease Him.
For He regards not so much the state as the purpose, and considers not what you are, but what you wish to be—provided that you, as far as you can, strive earnestly to deserve to be what you have not yet begun to be. SOUL. This last point of my inquiry, I beg you to receive kindly: what is that sweetness which sometimes, at the remembrance of Him, is wont to touch me, and to affect me so vehemently and so sweetly, that I begin somehow to be wholly carried out of myself, and to be drawn away I know not whither? For suddenly I am made new and wholly changed, and it begins to be well with me beyond what I am able to tell.
The conscience is gladdened, all the misery of past sorrows comes into oblivion, the spirit exults, the understanding grows bright, the heart is illumined, the desires are made joyful, and now I see myself to be elsewhere (I know not where), and I hold within, as it were, something in the embraces of love, and I know not what it is, yet I labor with all my striving always to retain it and never to lose it. The spirit struggles in a way delightfully, lest it withdraw from that which it ever desires to embrace, and as if it had found in Him the end of all desires, it exults supremely and ineffably, seeking nothing more, craving nothing beyond, willing ever to be thus. Is this perhaps my Beloved?
I beg you, tell me, that I may know whether it is He, so that, if He comes to me again, I may beseech Him not to withdraw, but to remain forever. MAN. Truly it is your Beloved who visits you, but He comes invisible, He comes hidden, He comes incomprehensible. He comes to touch you, not to be seen by you; He comes to admonish you, not to be comprehended by you; He comes not to pour Himself wholly in, but to offer Himself to be tasted; not to fill desire, but to draw affection; He holds out certain first-fruits of His love, He does not display the fullness of perfect satiety.
And this is what most pertains to the pledge of your betrothal: that He, who in the future will give Himself to you to be seen and possessed forever, now sometimes (that you may know how sweet He is) offers Himself to you to be tasted. At the same time also you are meanwhile consoled concerning His absence, since you are unceasingly refreshed by His visitation, lest you faint. I beg you, my soul, we have now said many things; after all these, acknowledge One, love One, follow One, lay hold of One, possess One. SOUL. This I choose, this I desire, this with all my heart I covet.