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Book III
OF THE PROGRESS AND PERFECTION OF LOVE.
CHAPTER X. THAT THE PRECEDING DESIRE WILL MUCH INCREASE THE UNION OF THE BLESSED WITH GOD.
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The desire which precedes enjoyment, sharpens and intensifies the feeling of
it, and by how much the desire was more urgent and powerful, by so much more
agreeable and delicious is the possession of the thing desired. Oh! my dear
Theotimus, what pleasure will man's heart take in seeing the face of the
Divinity, a face so much desired, yea a face the only desire of our souls?
Our hearts have a thirst which cannot be quenched by the pleasures of this
mortal life, whereof the most esteemed and highest prized if moderate do not
satisfy us, and if extreme suffocate us. Yet we desire them always to be
extreme, and they are never such without being excessive, insupportable,
hurtful. We die of joy as well as of grief: yea, joy is more active to ruin
us than grief. Alexander, having swallowed up, in effect or in hope, all
this lower world, heard some base fellow say, that there were yet many other
worlds, and like a little child, who will cry if one refuse him an apple,
this Alexander, whom the world styles the great, more foolish
notwithstanding than a little child, began bitterly to weep, because there
was no likelihood that he should conquer the other worlds, not having as yet
got the entire possession of this. He that did more fully enjoy the world
than ever any other did, is yet so little satisfied with it that he weeps
for sorrow that he cannot have the other worlds which the foolish persuasion
of a wretched babbler made him imagine to exist. Tell me, I pray you,
Theotimus, does he not show that the thirst of his heart cannot be slaked in
this life, and that this world is not sufficient to quench it? O wonderful
yet dear unrest of man's heart! Be, be ever, my soul, without any rest or
tranquillity on this earth, till thou shalt have met with the fresh waters
of the immortal life and the most holy Divinity, which alone can satisfy thy
thirst and quiet thy desire.
Now, Theotimus, imagine to yourself with the Psalmist, that hart which, hard
set by the hounds, has neither wind nor legs; how greedily he plunges
himself into the waters which he panted after, and with what ardour he rolls
into and buries himself in that element. One would think he would willingly
be dissolved and converted into water, more fully to enjoy its coolness. Ah!
what a union of our hearts shall there be with God there above in heaven,
where, after these infinite desires of the true good never assuaged in this
world, we shall find the living and powerful source thereof. Then, truly, as
we see a hungry child closely fixed to his mother's breast, greedily press
this dear fountain of most desired sweetness, so that one would think that
either it would thrust itself into its mother's breast, or else suck and
draw all that breast into itself; so our soul, panting with an extreme
thirst for the true good, when she shall find that inexhaustible source in
the Divinity,—O good God! what a holy and sweet ardour to be united and
joined to the plentiful breasts of the All-goodness, either to be altogether
absorbed in it, or to have it come entirely into us!
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