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All our Saviour's human actions are of an infinite
merit and value, by reason of the person who produces
them, who is the same God with the Father and the
Holy Ghost, yet they are not infinite by nature and
essence.
For as, being in a chamber, we receive not light
according to the greatness of the brightness of the
sun which sends it out, but according to the
greatness of the window, by which it is communicated,
- so our Saviour's human actions are not infinite,
though indeed they are of infinite value; for
although they are the actions of a divine person, yet
they are not done according to the extent of his
infinity, but according to the finite greatness of
his humanity by which he does them. So that, as the
human actions of our sweet Saviour are infinite
compared to ours, so are they only finite in
comparison with the essential infinity of the
divinity. They are infinite in value, estimation and
dignity, as proceeding from a person who is God; yet
are they finite by nature and essence, as being done
by God according to his human nature and substance,
which is finite; and therefore the praises which are
given by our Saviour, as he is man, not being in all
respects infinite, cannot fully correspond to the
infinite greatness of the divinity, to which they are
directed.
Wherefore after the first ravishment of admiration
which seizes us, when we meet with a praise so
glorious as is that which our Saviour renders to his
Father, we fail not to recognise that the divinity is
yet infinitely more deserving of praise than it can
be praised, either by all creatures, or by the very
humanity of the eternal Son.
If a man were praising the sun for its light, the
more he lifted himself towards it in praising it, the
more praiseworthy he would find it, because he would
still discover more and more brightness in it. And
if, as is very probable, it be the beauty of this
light which provokes larks to sing, it is no marvel
that, as they fly more loftily, they sing more
clearly, equally raising their voice and their
flight, till such time as hardly being able to sing
any more, they begin to fall in voice and body,
bringing down by little and little their flight and
their voice.
So, Theotimus, while by benevolence we are rising
towards the divinity to intone and hear his praises,
we see ever that he is above all praise. And finally,
we learn that he cannot be praised according to his
worth save only by himself, who alone can worthily
match his sovereign goodness with sovereign praise.
Hereupon we cry out: "Glory be to the Father, and
to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost:" and that every
one may know that it is not the glory of created
praises which we wish God by this ejaculation, but
the essential and eternal glory that is in himself,
by himself, of himself, and which is himself, we add:
"As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall
be, world without end. Amen." As though we expressed
a wish that God should be glorified for ever with the
glory which he had before all creatures, in his
infinite eternity and eternal infinity. For this we
add the verse Gloria to every psalm and canticle,
according to the ancient custom of the Eastern
Church, which the great S. Jerome begged Pope S.
Damasus to institute here in the Western; to protest,
that all the praises of men and angels are too low to
praise worthily the divine goodness, and that, to be
worthily praised, itself must be its own glory,
praise and benediction.
O God! what complacency, what a joy to the soul who
loves, when she has her desire satisfied, in seeing
her beloved infinitely praise, bless and magnify
himself! But from this complacency there springs a
new desire of praise: for the soul would gladly
praise this so worthy a praise given to God by
himself, thanking him profoundly for it, and calling
again all things to her assistance, to come and
glorify the glory of God with her, to bless his
infinite benedictions, and praise his eternal
praises; so that by this return and repetition of
praises upon praises, she engages herself, between
complacency and benevolence, in a most happy
labyrinth of love, being wholly lost in this immense
sweetness, sovereignly praising the divinity in that
it cannot be sufficiently praised but by itself.
And though in the beginning, the amorous soul had
conceived a certain desire of being able to praise
God sufficiently; yet reflecting upon herself again,
she protests that she would not wish to have power to
praise him sufficiently, but remains in a most humble
complacency, to perceive that the divine goodness is
so infinitely praiseworthy, that it cannot be
sufficiently praised save by its own infinity alone.
And here the soul, ravished with admiration, sings
the song of sacred silence: A hymn becometh thee, O
Lord, in Sion, and a vow shall be paid to thee in
Jerusalem.(1)
For so the seraphim of Isaias, adoring and
praising God, veiled their faces and feet, confessing
therein their want of ability to contemplate or serve
him properly; for our feet, by which we go, signify
service: but still they fly with two wings in the
sweet unrest of complacency and benevolence, their
love reposing in that delightful unrest.
Man's heart is never so much disquieted as when
the motion by which it continually opens and shuts
itself is hindered, never so quiet as when its
motions are free; so that the heart's quiet consists
in its motion. Now it is the same with the love of
the Seraphim and seraphical men; for this has its
repose in its continual movement of complacency, by
which it draws God into itself, as if shutting
itself, and of benevolence, by which it opens itself
and throws itself entirely into God.
This love then desires to behold the infinite
wonders of God's goodness, yet it spreads its wings
over its face, confessing that it cannot succeed in
this it would also present some worthy service, but
it folds this desire over its feet, confessing that
it has not power to perform it, nor does anything
remain save the two wings of complacency and
benevolence, by which it flies and darts towards God.
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