A Little Book of Eternal Wisdom [50]
away from Thee, how to drive Thee out of Thy own! O Eternal God, Thou even
Thou Thyself, art here so truly present, and the angelic host is here, and
yet I have approached so shyly and sluggishly. Of Thee I will say nothing;
but, truly, Lord, I know of no spot within many miles, whither, if I had
known for certain of the presence of blessed angels, those high and noble
guests who at all times behold Thee, I should not have repaired of my own
accord, and even if I had not seen them, still my heart, on their account,
would have leapt in my body for joy. O sweet Lord and God, that Thou
Thyself, the Lord of all angels, shouldst have been present here, and
shouldst have had with Thee so many angelic choirs, and that I should not
have given more heed to the place; this, this must ever be a sore affliction
for me! I ought, at all events, to have approached the place where I knew
Thee to be thus present, even though nothing else might have come of it. O
God, how often have I stood distracted and without devotion on the very spot
where Thou wast before me, and with me in the Blessed Sacrament; my body
indeed stood there, but my heart was elsewhere. How often have I thought so
little of Thee in Thy presence, that my heart has not even offered Thee an
affectionate salutation, with a devout inclination. Gentle Lord, my eyes
ought to have looked at Thee with joyous delight, my heart ought to have
loved Thee with the fullness of desire, my mouth ought to have praised Thee
with heartfelt, fervent jubilee; all my strength ought to have melted in Thy
glad service. What did not Thy servant David do who leapt so joyously with
all his might before the ark, in which there was nothing but corporal bread
of heaven, nothing but corporal things! Lord, now do I stand here before
Thee, and before all Thy angels, and with bitter tears fall at Thy feet.
Remember, O, remember, tender Lord, that here, before me, Thou art my flesh
and my brother, and forego Thy displeasure. O, forgive me all the dishonour
that ever I offered Thee, for I am sorry for it, and must ever be sorry for
it; for the light of Thy wisdom begins only now to enlighten me; and the
place where Thou art, not only according to Thy divinity, but according to
Thy humanity, shall be honoured by me evermore. Ah, Thou sweetest good, Thou
worthy Lord and lovely guest of my soul, another question would I gladly
ask: Tell me, gentle Lord, what is it Thou givest Thy beloved with Thy real
presence in the Sacrament, provided she receives Thee with love and desire?
Eternal Wisdom.--Is that a fitting question for a lover? What have I
better than Myself? He who possesses the object of his love, what else has
he to ask for? He who gives himself, what has he refused? I give Myself to
thee, and take thee from thyself, and unite thee to Me. Thou loseth thyself,
and art wholly transformed into Me. What does the sun in his brightest
reflection bestow on the unclouded sky? Yes, what does the bright star of
the morning dawn bestow on the dark night? Or what do the fair and ravishing
adornments of summer bestow after the cold, wintry, melancholy season?
The Servant.--O Lord, they bestow precious gifts.
Eternal Wisdom.--They seem precious to thee because they are visible to
thee. Behold, the smallest gift that flows from Me in the Blessed Sacrament
reflects more splendour in eternity than any sunny brightness; it sheds more
light than any morning star; it adorns thee more ravishingly in eternal
beauty than ever did any adornment of summer the earth. Or is not My bright
divinity more radiant than any sun, My noble soul more resplendent than any
star, My glorified body more ravishing than any ravishment of summer? And
yet all these things hast thou truly received here.
The Servant.--O Lord, why then are they not more sensibly felt? Lord, I
often approach in such dryness that all light, all grace and sweetness are
as strange to me, methinks, as to a man born blind, who never saw the sun.
Lord, if I may venture to say so, I could indeed wish