Sermons on the Song of Songs

“Show me where Thou feedest, where Thou liest in the mid-day.”

“Show me where Thou feedest, where Thou liest in the mid-day.” Hither, my brethren, have we come, and here we begin. But before proceeding with the explanation of this vision and this loving entreaty, I think it would be well if I briefly recapitulated what has been said of the other visions already dealt with, showing how they may be spiritually accommodated to ourselves, according to the desires and the merits of each. For in this way, the understanding of those, if yet it be granted us, will facilitate the comprehension of this which I purpose to discuss in the present sermon. The undertaking is far from being an easy one. Although the language in which the visions or figures are described seems to refer directly to bodies and things of the body, yet what is meant to be conveyed to us is something spiritual, and hence the causes and significations have to be spiritually investigated. But who is capable of examining and comprehending the so various affections and advances of the soul to which is dispensed the multiform grace of the presence of the Bridegroom? Yet, if we enter into ourselves, and if the Holy Spirit deigns to reveal to us by His light the work which He condescends to busy Himself constantly about in our interior, I think we shall not remain altogether without understanding of these matters. For I trust that “we have received, not the spirit of this world, but the Spirit That is of God, that we may know the things that are given us from God.”

Therefore, if to any amongst us, as to the holy Psalmist, it has been given to feel intensely that it is “good to adhere to God,” or, to speak more plainly, if there be amongst us such a “man of desires” that he “desires to be dissolved and to be with Christ,” and desires this ardently, thirsts for it eagerly, and meditates on it night and day, he certainly shall receive the Word not otherwise than in the character of a Bridegroom, at the time of his visitation. That is to say, at the hour when he feels himself closely embraced in his interior, with the arms, so to speak, of divine wisdom, and experiences in consequence a sweet infusion of holy love. For “his heart’s desire” has been given him, whilst still sojourning in the body. Yet only in part, and that but for a time, and a short time. For the Beloved, after having been sought and found with so many watchings, so many supplications, so much labour, such floods of tears, suddenly slips away, when we are supposing that we still hold Him fast. Then, again, He unexpectedly confronts us as, weeping, we pursue Him, and allows Himself to be taken hold of, but not to be detained, for He once more flies suddenly away from our grasp. However, if the favoured soul be instant in prayer with tears, He will come back soon to her, and “will not withhold from her the will of her lips.” But very soon He again disappears, and is no longer seen, unless He be followed with the fulness of the heart’s desire. In this way, therefore, even in our exile here below, we may often experience the joy of the Bridegroom’s presence, yet not unto satiety. For although the visitation brings us gladness the withdrawal causes pain in proportion. And so long must the beloved Spouse endure this vicissitude of consolation and abandonment until, having once laid aside the burden of corporeal flesh, she, too, learns how to fly, lifted up on the wings of holy desires, and to make her way unimpeded through the far-spreading aerial plains of divine contemplation, with liberty of spirit following her Beloved “whithersoever He goeth.” Yet not to every soul does He communicate Himself in this manner, even momentarily, but only to that which, by the fervour of her devotion, and the eagerness of her desires and the surpassing tenderness of her love, proves herself to be a true spouse, and worthy that the Beloved, in coming to pay her a visit, should “put on His beauty,” assuming the form of a Bridegroom. For she that is not yet found so disposed, but rather afflicted at the recollection of her sins, ought to say to God, speaking in the bitterness of her soul, “Condemn me not.” And she who has still to struggle against violent temptation from her “own concupiscence, being drawn away and allured,” it is not a Bridegroom such a one needs, but a Physician. Therefore, she receives, instead of kisses and caresses, only oils and unguents as remedies for her wounds. Have we not often felt this in ourselves? Has not this been our own experience in prayer, still daily afflicted as we are by our present excesses, and tortured by the memory of the past? O good Jesus, from how great a bitterness of soul Thy advent has frequently delivered me! How often, after anxious tears, after “unspeakable groanings” and sobbings hast Thou not anointed my wounded conscience with the unction of Thy mercy, and soothed it with an infusion of the “oil of gladness”! How often has it not happened that the prayer, which found me almost abandoned by hope, restored to me peace and joy with the assurance of pardon! They who have had the same experience, “behold they know” how truly the Lord Jesus is called a Physician, “Who healeth the broken of heart, and bindeth up their wounds.” And such as cannot claim experimental knowledge of this, must believe Him when He says of Himself, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, wherefore He hath anointed Me; He hath sent Me to preach to the meek, to heal the contrite of heart.” But if they still doubt, let them draw nigh to Him and put the matter to trial. So, from what happens in themselves, they shall come to an understanding of His words, “I will have mercy and not sacrifice.” But let us now pass on to consider the remaining points of our subject.

There are some, my brethren, who, tired of spiritual things, lapse into tepidity, and in a certain faintness of the spirit, walk sadly on in the ways of the Lord, approaching every duty with a dry and heavy heart, and often giving way to discontent and murmuring. Weary and desolate, they are heard to complain of the length of the days and of the length of the nights. With holy Job they say, “If I lie down to sleep I shall say, when shall I rise? and again I shall look for the evening.” Therefore, whenever we happen to suffer anything like this, if only the Lord out of pity should meet us “in the way in which we are walking,” and, being Himself from heaven, should begin to talk to us of the things of heaven, or to sing us a sweet and soothing song of the canticles of Sion, or to entertain us with an account of the city of God, of the peace of that city, the eternity of that peace, and the immutability of that eternity, I assure you, my brethren, such delightful conversation would be as a soft litter to the drowsy and weary wayfarers, relieving at once the languor of the mind and the fatigue of the body. Does it not seem to you that such was the experience of him and such the object of his prayer, who said, “My soul hath slumbered through heaviness; strengthen Thou me in Thy words”? And when his request was granted, did he not exclaim, “Oh, how I have loved Thy law, O Lord!”? Our meditations on our Bridegroom, the Word, on His Glory, His Beauty, His Power, His Majesty, may be considered as His conversations with us. And not only that, but even when with fervent hearts we ponder His testimonies and the “judgments of His Mouth,” and “meditate on His law, day and night,” let us be firmly convinced that the Beloved is there present and speaking to us, so that, charmed with His words, we may not grow weary of the labour.