Sermons on the Song of Songs

“Smelling sweet of the best ointments.”

I want to repeat, to-day, my brethren, what I said at the end of my last discourse, namely, that I wish to see you all participating in that heavenly unction, whereby servent devotion recalls with joy and gratitude the benefits bestowed by God. A very desirable grace is this, and for two reasons. Firstly, it lightens the labours of this present life, which become more supportable for us whilst our souls are exulting in the praises of God. And, secondly, because there is nothing on earth which so nearly approximates to the life of the blessed in heaven as a fervent choir singing to the glory of the Lord. So Holy Scripture says, “Blessed are they that dwell in Thy house; O Lord, for ever, and ever they shall praise Thee.” It is, as I think, to this same ointment of Devotion in particular that the Psalmist refers when he sings, “Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! like the precious ointment on the head.” Such a commendation cannot, it seems to me, be applied to the ointment of Contrition. That, although it is indeed “good,” can hardly be described as “pleasant,” because the remembrance of past sin begets rather pain than pleasure. Besides, they who are engaged in producing that unguent do not “dwell together.” Each for himself mourns and laments over his own transgressions. But when returning thanks, we direct all our thoughts and attention to God alone, and for this reason we may be truly said to “dwell together.” Thanksgiving is “good,” as rendering to God the glory that is most justly due to Him. And it is also “pleasant,” inasmuch as it is a source of delight.

Wherefore, my brethren, I exhort you to withdraw your minds occasionally from the sad and disquieting memory of your sins, and to pass out of the confined limits of your consciences into the smoother ways of thoughts upon the benefits of God. Thus, after experiencing confusion within yourselves, you will feel your courage revive at the view of the divine goodness. I wish you would resolve to put to the test of experience that which the Prophet recommends to us in the words, “Delight in the Lord and He will give thee the requests of thy heart.” True, sorrow for sin is a necessity, yet it should not be continuous. It must sometimes give place to the more cheering thoughts of the divine clemency, lest otherwise the heart, frozen hard by excessive sadness, should fall a victim to despair. Let us, then, mingle a little honey with our wormwood, in order that we may be able to swallow the bitters thus tempered with sweets, and so derive advantage to our spiritual health. Listen to God Himself, how He moderates the bitterness of a contrite heart, how He recalls the pusillanimous from the abyss of despair, how with the honey of sweet and faithful promises He consoles the afflicted and raises up the dejected. By the mouth of His Prophet He says, “For My praise I will bridle thee, lest thou shouldst perish.” That is to say, “lest at the view of thy sins, thou shouldst yield to excessive sadness, and, like a runaway horse, plunge headlong over the precipice to thy destruction, I will bridle thee, I will hold thee back to receive My pardon, I will lift thee up to sing My praises, and thou that art confounded at the memory of thy sins, shalt have thy courage reanimated by the experience of My bounty, discovering My mercy to be greater than thine own guiltiness.” Had Cain been held in check with this bridle, never would he have cried out in despair,” My iniquity is greater than that I may deserve pardon.” God forbid! my brethren, God forbid! The divine loving-kindness is greater than any iniquity whatever. Therefore “the just is his own accuser in the beginning of his words,” but only in the beginning, not throughout. Rather it is his custom to conclude his words with the praises of God. Take an example of a just man proceeding in this way. “I have thought on my ways,” sings David, “and turned my feet unto Thy testimonies.” For in his own ways he had endured pain and misery, but had found delight in the way of God’s testimonies, “as in all riches.” And do you, therefore, my brethren, after the example of the just man, “think of the Lord in goodness,” whilst you think of yourselves in humility. So we read in Wisdom, “Think of the Lord in goodness, and seek Him in simplicity of heart.” This lesson must be impressed upon your minds by a frequent, or rather by an uninterrupted remembrance of the divine bounty. Otherwise how can that of the Apostle be fulfilled in you, “In all things giving thanks,” if you allow the benefits, for which thanks should be rendered, to escape from your memory? I should not like to see you deserving the reproach formerly addressed to the Jews, of whom the Scripture testifies that they were unmindful of God’s benefits and of the wonders He had worked in their behalf.

But it is impossible, I will admit, for any man to recall and keep in mind all the benefits which our “compassionate and merciful Lord” ceases not to bestow upon mortals. “Who shall declare the powers of the Lord? Who shall set forth all His praises?” Yet, at least, that which is the chief and greatest, I mean the benefit of Redemption, ought surely never to depart from the memory of the redeemed. In this there are two things which I now wish to recommend, in a special way, to your consideration. I shall be as brief as possible, remembering what is said in Proverbs, “Give an occasion to a wise man, and wisdom shall be added to him.” The two things of which I speak are the mode of our Redemption, and its fruit. The mode is God’s emptying of Himself. The fruit is His filling of us from Himself. “Meditate on these things.” The latter is the seed of holy hope; the former an incentive to the most ardent love. But both are necessary to our progress, lest our hope, unaccompanied by love, should become mercenary, or our love grow lukewarm if considered productive of no fruit.

Furthermore, the fruit which we expect from our love is that which has been promised by Him Who is the Object of our love, “good measure, and pressed down, and shaken together and running over, shall they give into your bosom.” That measure, as I am told, will be without measure. But my desire is to know what that thing is which is to be measured to us according to the measure, or rather according to the immensity promised us. “The eye hath not seen, O God! besides Thee what things Thou hast prepared for them that love Thee.” Do Thou, Who hast made the preparation, vouchsafe Thyself to tell us what Thou hast prepared. It is our belief, it is our confident hope that, as Thou hast promised, so shall it be, and that “we shall be filled with the good things of Thy house.” But what are these “good things” and of what kind? Perhaps “corn and oil and wine”? Gold, and silver and precious stones? But we can “conceive” what these are, and our eyes have “seen” them. We see them and feel only disdain and disgust for prizes so poor. What I seek is that which “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive.” That is pleasant, that is sweet, that is delightful to inquire about, whatever it may be. “They shall be all taught of God,” says St. John, “and God shall be all in all.” I am informed, then, that the plenitude which we expect from God, is nothing less than a plenitude of God.