ike a
magnetic seething with heat and ravishment of joy, I felt inwardly
only after I had learnt to know a sudden, secret, joyous delight of
love in the soul, which is easiest described as sweetness of love, is
from the Christ, and _very frequently_ given by Him. And some six
months after the heat, fire, electric seething, or however best it may
be named, I first knew the song of the soul. Now, although it is
better not to dwell upon the memory of past spiritual joys, lest we
become greedy, and equally wise not to dwell upon the memory of
anguishes, lest we fall into self-pity, which of all emotions is the
most sickly and useless (and our wisest is to live only from hour to
hour with all the sweetness that we can, leaving to Him the choosing
of our daily bread, whether it be high joy or pain), still I confess that
I have thought over and compared these joys sufficiently to know
very well which I love the best. Heat of love is very wonderful, and
sweetness is very lovely, and raptures and ecstasies are outside
words; but most beautiful of all is the song of the soul, and this is
when--in highest adoration--passing beyond heat, and further than
sweetness, the soul goes up alone upon the highest summit of love,
and there like a bird pours out the rapturous and golden passion of
her love. And His Spirit, biding very near, never touches her; for if
He touch, it is at once an ecstasy, and because of the stress of this
she would have neither words nor song with which to rejoice Him.

Oh, the pure happiness of the soul in this wonderful song!

Truly I think it is greater than in the rapture or the ecstasy, because
in these the soul receives, but in the song, mounting right up to Him,
she gives. And now at last we know the fuller meaning of Christ's
words where He says: "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

Beloved, Thou takest the creature and liftest it up; Thou takest the
creature and liftest it high, so that nevermore can it offend Thee, and
the soul is free to sing of her love. Then is it Thy will that the
creature should love Thee? Or is it Thy will that the soul should
adore? Beloved, I know not whether with my heart and mind I most
adore Thee, or whether with my soul I love Thee more. And where
is that secret trysting-place of love? I do not know; for whilst I go
there and whilst I return I am blind, and whilst I am there I am
blinded by Love Himself.

O wondrous trysting-place I which is indeed the only try