CHAPTER XLIII.

How he drew certain hearts from earthly love to the love of God.

WHILE the Servitor was occupied in drawing souls from earthly love to God, he remarked that in certain monasteries there were persons who, though they wore the religious habit, had worldly hearts beneath it. Among others there was one who had steadfastly fixed her heart upon a perishable affection, of a kind which goes by the name of “sponsiren,” and is a very poison to all happiness in religion. The Servitor told her that if she wished to lead a godly and quiet life, she 223must renounce this practice, and in place of her earthly lover take the Eternal Wisdom for her beloved. This was a hard thing for her to do; for she was in the bloom of youth, and completely entangled in this kind of company. Nevertheless, he brought her thus far, that she formed the good resolution to do it. When, however, she broke this good resolution again, through the influence of her friends, he said to her:—Daughter, leave off this practice; for I tell thee that if thou wilt not do it cheerfully, thou wilt have to do it sorrowfully. As she would not be converted by his friendly counsels, he prayed to God very earnestly to withdraw her from this affection, cost her what it might. One day he went up into the pulpit under the crucifix, as his wont was, and he took a severe discipline on his bare back, so that the blood streamed from it, and he be sought God for her that she might be tamed. And so it came to pass; for immediately upon her return home there grew an ill-shaped hump upon her back, which made her look hideous, and thus necessity obliged her to give up what she had refused to renounce for God.

In the same unenclosed monastery, there was a young, beautiful, and noble maiden, who having been caught in the same devil’s net, had 224been for many years wearing away her heart and her time in frivolous light-mindedness with all kinds of persons; and she had become so infatuated in these practices, that she always fled like a wild animal from the Servitor of the Eternal Wisdom, because she feared that he would order her to give up the kind of life which she was leading. Now the sister of this maiden besought the Servitor to try his luck with her, and see whether he could not bring her back from her ruinous courses to the ever lasting God. This seemed to him an impossible request, and he made answer that, in his opinion, it would be more possible for the sky to full than for her to give up this practice; and that only death could take it from her. The sister, however, was very urgent with him in her entreaties, saying that it was her firm belief that whatever he asked of the everlasting God with earnestness, God never refused to him. At length she overcame him by her importunities, and he promised her to undertake it.

As the maiden always fled from him, so that he could never come to words with her, he took note one day, about the time of St. Margaret’s feast, that she had gone out with the other young sisters into a field to pick flax. He stole 225after them, and went round the field, and in this way managed to come gently up to her.

When she perceived that he was drawing near to her, she turned her back upon him very insolently, and, with her face all on fire with anger, cried out passionately to him:—Sir monk, what mean you by coming out here to me? keep to your own road, I advise you; for you have nothing to do with me. I tell you that I would rather have my head cut off than confess to you, and I would sooner be buried alive than obey you and give up my practices (sponsiren).

Her playmate, who stood next her, tried to quiet her; and reproved her, saying that the Servitor had only done it out of kindness. But she, tossing up her head in fury, answered:—See, I will not deceive him; I will show him by my words and ways what I have in my heart. The Servitor was so horror-struck by these insolent words and unseemly gestures, that he blushed with shame and kept silence; for he could not speak. The other sisters, who heard her outcries against him, were grieved at it, and chid her sharply. He soon withdrew on one side and left her; and then looking upwards, he began to sigh deeply, and would have given up the attempt; only that there still remained 226in him a kind of interior impulse from God, reminding him that he who wishes to accomplish any thing either for God or for the world must not give up so soon. This took place after midday.

On the evening of that same day, after sup per, the sisters went in a body into the court yard to pill the flax which they had gathered, and the afore-mentioned sister went with them. Now they were obliged to pass by the guest-quarters, in which the Servitor was staying. He, therefore, besought one of the maiden’s playmates to contrive to bring her to him, and then to leave the room again herself. This was man aged, though with difficulty.

As soon as she came into the room where the brother was, and had seated herself near him under the window, he fetched a deep sigh from his full heart, and said:—Ah! beautiful and gentle maiden, God’s chosen one! how long will you abandon your beautiful lovely body and your tender heart to the vile and wicked devil! And yet you are so richly adorned by the everlasting God with every grace, that it is indeed an evil tale that such a well-formed, noble, and angelic maiden should be the be loved of any other save the All-adorable One 227alone. Who has a greater right to pluck the fair and tender rose than He whose own it is? No, dear lovely maiden, open your bright falcon-eyes, and think of that beautiful chosen love, which begins here and lasts for ever and ever. Think, too, what sorrow and unfaithfulness, what pain and suffering in body and goods, in soul and honour, they must needs endure, willingly or unwillingly, who pursue earthly love; only they are so blinded by the honeyed poison that they forget the great hurt which thence results to them in time and in eternity. Come, then, thou angelic form, thou loving noble heart, and turn thy nature’s high nobility to Him who is noble from eternity, and cease from this. I promise thee, by my troth, that God will take thee for His darling, and will be altogether true to thee, and love thee right well, here and hereafter, everlastingly.

The moment was propitious. These fiery words shot, as it were, through her heart, and softened her so exceedingly, that, at once lifting up her eyes and sighing very deeply, she said to him these determined and courageous words:—Ah, sir, my father! I surrender myself this day to God and you; and from this hour I will 228have done with my wild unbridled life, and, by your counsel and help, I will give myself to the loving God, to be His own, and will serve Him only until my death. He answered:—This is an hour of gladness. Praised be the kind Lord, who is ready to receive back again with joy all those who return to Him.

"While the two were thus conversing together in private about God, her playmates whom she had left stood outside the door, and they were vexed at the length of the discourse, for they feared lest she should abandon their light-minded society. So they called out to her to finish with him. Upon this she rose up, and went away with them, saying:—My playmates, God bless you! I bid you now farewell you and all our comrades, with whom, alas, I have wasted my time so frivolously; for henceforth I will have no one but the faithful God, and all else I will let go.

From that time the maiden began to avoid all hurtful company, and to keep herself retired; and though in after times the attempt was often made to bring her back to her old life, nothing ever came of it; and her conduct continued such, that, in the enjoyment of an honourable reputation and the practice of every 229virtue, she remained firmly and steadfastly attached to God until her death.

Once, later on, the Servitor set forth from home to visit his new daughter, that he might confirm her in a good and holy life, and console her lovingly, if she were in any sorrow; and he put himself to much suffering by undertaking the journey at a time when he was ill. As he walked along in this state through the deep mire, and climbed over lofty mountains, he often lifted up his eyes to the living God, and said:—Merciful God, be mindful of the painful steps which Thou didst take for man’s salvation, and keep safe my child. His companion, on whom he leant from time to time, said to him in pity:—It well beseems God’s goodness that many souls should be kept safe through you.

When he had gone on until he could go no further, but was quite exhausted, his companion said to him once more:—Ah, father! God should have considered how very ill you are, and He should have sent you a horse to ride upon, until you come to where people are. He answered:—Well, if we both ask God for it, I have confidence that He will let me have the benefit of thy virtue, and that it will come to pass.

Then the Servitor looked round about him, and he saw there on the right hand, coming forth out of a wood, a handsome horse, properly bridled and saddled, and it was coming along alone. His companion joyfully exclaimed:—See, dear father, how God will not forsake you! He answered:—Son, look round about on all sides of this broad plain, and observe whether there is any one to whom it can belong. He looked far and near, and could see no one, but only the horse trotting up to them. Then he said:—Of a truth, father, God has sent it to you; sit upon it and ride. He answered:—Well, comrade, if the horse stops still when it comes to us, I trust in God that He has sent it hither for our necessity. The horse came up quietly, and stood still before him. He said:—So be it, in God’s name. Then his companion helped him on the horse and made him ride upon it, and walked by his side for some distance, until he was well rested. When they came near a village the Servitor got off, and laying the reins upon the horse’s neck, let it go its way to the place from which it came. But whence it came, or whose it was, he never could discover afterwards.

When the Servitor had arrived at his journey’s 231end, it happened one evening that he was sitting with his spiritual children speaking to them in disparagement of perishable love, while at the same time he praised and celebrated to them the excellence of eternal love. When they left him, his heart was greatly inflamed with Divine love through the ardour of his discourse; for it seemed to him that his Beloved, whom he both loved himself and advised others to love, was infinitely better than all earthly objects of love. While he meditated on this, his senses were stilled in ecstasy, and it appeared to him in a vision that he was carried to a beautiful green heath, and that by his side there went a heavenly youth of comely form and noble bearing, who led him by the hand. Then the youth began to sing in the brother’s soul a song which rang forth so joyously that all his senses took to flight before the mighty power of that sweet melody, and it seemed to him that his heart became so exceeding full of burning love and longing after God that it began to leap and rage within his body, as if it were on the point of breaking, from the intense strain that was upon it; and he was forced to lay his right hand upon his heart as a relief, and his eyes became so full that the tears ran down his cheeks.

When the song was ended, a picture was placed before him, with the intent to teach him this song in such a way that he might not forget it. He looked, and saw there our Lady pressing her Child, the Eternal Wisdom, to her maternal heart. Over the Child’s head the beginning of the song was written in beautiful and well-formed letters, and yet the writing was so concealed that it was not every one could read it. Only those who had gained the knowledge of it by experience and spiritual exercises read it well; and the writing was, “Heart’s darling.”

The Servitor read the writing rapidly; and then the Babe looked up and gazed at him with love; upon which he felt in his inmost soul how true it is that the Divine Babe alone is our heart’s darling—the sole object of all our joy and sorrow. Then he pressed the Babe to the very centre of his heart, and began to sing with the youth this song from end to end. In these burning sentiments of heartfelt love he came to himself again, and he found his right hand lying upon his heart, just as he had placed it there as a relief, when his heart was agitated so violently.