Sermons on the Song of Songs

Indeed, I am already paying the penalty, I am already writhing under a most cruel scourge. Not without reason surely has my soul been invaded since yesterday or the day before by this heavy languor, this dulness of mind, this unusual sluggishness of spirit. I had been running well. But behold! In the way has appeared a “stone of stumbling.” I tripped upon it and have fallen. Pride has been found in me, and the Lord has departed in anger from His servant. Hence the sterility of soul, hence the want of fervour which I experience. How has my heart grown so hard and dry, “congealed like milk,” and become “as earth without water”? No longer am I able to shed tears of contrition, because of my exceeding obduracy. I find no pleasure now in psalmody, no satisfaction in pious reading, no consolation in prayer, no taste for my customary meditations Where now are those spiritual transports which I one enjoyed? Where that serenity of soul, that peace and joy in the Holy Spirit? Therefore am I become slothful in labour, drowsy at vigils, prone to anger, obstinate in antipathies, more indulgent to the tongue and the palate, less vigorous and zealous in preaching. Alas all the mountains round about, the Lord vouchsafes to visit, but me He comes not nigh! Am I not, then, on of the hills which the Bridegroom skips over? For looking around me I behold one brother endowed with an extraordinary gift of abstinence, a second possessed of admirable patience, a third excelling in humility and meekness, a fourth conspicuous for mercy and piety, this one enjoying frequent raptures in contemplation, that one penetrating the clouds and knocking at the very gate of heaven by the importunity of his prayers, and others equally distinguished for other virtues. I see them all fervent, all devout, all united in Christ, all abounding with heavenly gifts and graces, as so many spiritual mountains which have been visited by the Lord, and often receive the Bridegroom leaping upon them. But as for me, who can discover in my soul none of these evidences of the divine visitation, what else ought I to consider myself but as one of the mountains of Gelboe, which are skipped over by Him Who so graciously leaps upon the others round about?

My little children, it is sentiments like these that remove the “haughtiness of the eyes,” draw down upon us the grace of God, and prepare our souls for the leaps of the Bridegroom. All that I have just said, “I have in a figure transferred to myself for your sakes.” “Be ye followers of me” in this respect. I do not mean, in the practice of virtue, or in the observance of regular discipline, for I am not so foolish as to pretend to have anything therein worthy of your imitation; but I want you not to spare yourselves, I want you to accuse yourselves in the way I have done, whenever you may happen to notice that your fervour is diminishing, even in the slightest degree, or your virtue growing slack. To act in this manner is the characteristic of the prudent religious, who keeps a zealous watch over himself, diligently examines all his ways and works, and is ever and in everything on the alert to prevent the vice of arrogance from finding entrance to his soul. I have learned this in truth, that there is no more efficacious means of obtaining grace, of preserving it when obtained, or of recovering it when lost, than to appear always in the sight of God “not high-minded but fearful.” Hence we read in Proverbs, “Blessed is the man that is always fearful.” Be afraid therefore when grace rejoices you with its presence; be afraid when it departs; be afraid when it returns to you. Thus you shall be always fearful. Let these three fears succeed each other in your souls, according as grace condescends to abide with you, or is perceived to have withdrawn in resentment, or to have come back appeased. When present, be afraid of not cooperating with it faithfully. Hence the Apostle’s admonition, “Receive not the grace of God in vain”; and again, addressing his disciple Timothy, he says, “Neglect not the grace that is in thee”; finally, he says of himself, “His grace in me hath not been void.” This great man, the confidant of the divine counsels, knew well that to neglect the gift of grace, and not to use it for the purpose for which it was given, redounds to the dishonour of the Giver, He judged such conduct to be intolerable pride, and therefore avoided it most studiously himself, and taught his disciples to do the same. But there is here concealed another pitfall which I desire to put you on your guard against. It is that wherein the spirit of pride himself, as the Psalmist says, “lieth in wait in secret, like a lion in his den,” and the danger is only all the greater because it is so unsuspected. What I wish to say is this: when the devil cannot prevail upon you to omit a good work, he will endeavour to corrupt your intention, and by prompting and persuading will urge you to appropriate to yourselves what is but the fruit of divine grace. Now, there can be no doubt that this species of pride is far more detestable than the other. What indeed can be more hateful than the arrogance which once led men to say, “Our mighty hand, and not the Lord, hath done all these things”!

Therefore, fear is necessary even when grace is with us. But what if it retires? Have we not then more cause to be afraid? Aye, and much more, for when grace fails us, we also shall fail. Hear what the Giver of grace teaches: “Without Me,” He says, “you can do nothing,” Fear, then, when you are abandoned by grace, as knowing yourselves to be on the point of falling. Be afraid and tremble, as aware that you have incurred the displeasure of God. Be frightened at the thought that your defence has left you. And doubt not that pride is the cause of your abandonment, even though it is not apparent, even though you are conscious to yourselves of nothing. For God can see what escapes us, and He is our Judge. And “not he who commendeth himself is approved, but he whom God commendeth.” But surely God commends not him whom He deprives of His grace. Surely He Who “giveth His grace to the humble,” will not recall His gift as long as we continue humble. Therefore, the deprivation of grace is a proof of pride. Nevertheless grace is sometimes withdrawn or subtracted, not on account of any pride that is actually present but because of the pride that would exist, if the grace were allowed to remain. We have an evident example of this in the case of the Apostle, who in spite of himself had to endure the sting of the flesh, not because he was lifted up, but lest he should be. Thus whether already present, or not yet brought forth, pride is always the cause of the subtraction of grace.

But it is when grace comes back appeased that we ought to feel most afraid, lest haply we should suffer a relapse. So we read in the Gospel, “Behold thou art made whole: go and sin no more lest some worse thing happen to thee.” You perceive, my brethren, that a second fall would be more terrible than the first. Therefore should our fear increase in proportion with our danger. Blessed art thou, whosoever thou be, that fillest thy heart with this threefold fear, so that thou art afraid on account of grace received, more afraid on account of its loss, and still more afraid when it has been recovered! In this way thou dost make thyself as a “water-pot” at the banquet of Christ, “filled up to the brim,” and containing not one or two, but three “measures”; and dost deserve that the Lord should bless thee, and by His blessing change thy waters of fear into the wine of gladness. For “perfect charity casteth out fear.”