(4) Therefore now, if we will speak of this most serious Article, we must go from Jerusalem to Jericho, and see how we lie among Murderers, who have so wounded us, and beaten us, that we are half dead, and we must look about us for the Samaritan with his Beast, that he may dress our Wounds, and bring us into his Inn. O how lamentable and miserable it is, that we are so beaten by the Murderer (the Devil) that we are half dead, and yet feel our Smart no more! O if the Physician would come, and dress our Wounds, that our Soul might revive and live, how should we rejoice! Thus speaks the Desire, and has such longing hearty Wishes; and although the Physician is present, yet the Mind can no where apprehend him, because it is so very much wounded, and lies half dead.

(46) Now the Will or the Desiring in the Dryness cannot reach the Light; and therein consists the Anguish in the Will [Longing] after the Light; and the Anguish is attractive, and in the Attracting is the Woe, and the Woe makes the Anguish greater, so that the Anguish in the Harshness attracts much more, and this Attracting in the Woe is the bitter [Sting or] Prickle, or the Bitterness of the Woe; and the Anguish reaches after the [Sting or] Prickle with attracting, and yet cannot comprehend it, because it resists, and the more the Anguish attracts, the more the [Sting or] Prickle raves and rages.

(59) And now if it is to be helped again, then the Heart of God with its Light (and not the Father) must come into it; it stands in the Father however, yet turned away from the Entrance (to the Birth of the Heart of God) backward into this World, where no Light is to be comprehended, either behind or before it; for the Substance of the Body breaks, and then the poor Soul stands imprisoned in the dark Dungeon; and here the Love of God towards the poor imprisoned Soul is [made] known: Consider thyself here, O dear Mind.

(5) My dear Mind, thou supposest thou art very sound, but thou art so beaten, that thou feelest thy Disease no more. Art thou not very near unto Death, how then canst thou account thyself to be sound? O my dear Soul, boast not of thy Soundness, thou liest fettered in heavy Bonds, yea in a very dark Dungeon; thou swimmest in a deep Water, which rises up to thy very Lips, and thou must continually expect Death. Besides, the Hunter is behind thee with a great Company of thy worst Enemies, whereby he draws thee continually down by his Chains into the horrible Deep, into the Abyss of Hell, and his Crew thrust thee on behind thee, and run upon thee on all Sides, yelling and hunting, as if they had the Hind they hunt after.

(208) For the visible body must perforce perish, Though he incurred chastisement, it affected his body only, And as a friend he now goes, free of pain, to his Friend. Thus at first he clung to the King's stirrup, Part of the story remains untold; it was retained The story of the princes remains unfinished, Here speech, like a camel, breaks down on its road; I will say no more, but guard my tongue from speech. The rest is told without aid of tongue

(1) WONDERFULLY is a man’s affection varied in ghostly feeling of this nought when it is nowhere wrought. For at the first time that a soul looketh thereupon, it shall find all the special deeds of sin that ever he did since he was born, bodily or ghostly, privily or darkly painted thereupon. And howsoever that he turneth it about, evermore they will appear before his eyes; until the time be, that with much hard travail, many sore sighings, and many bitter weepings, he have in great part washed them away. Sometime in this travail him think that it is to look thereupon as on hell; for him think that he despaireth to win to perfection of ghostly rest out of that pain. Thus far inwards come many, but for greatness of pain that they feel and for lacking of comfort, they go back in beholding of bodily things: seeking fleshly comforts without, for lacking of ghostly they have not yet deserved, as they should if they had abided.

(398) our souls’ health the rougher and severer poet or story-teller, who will imitate the style of the virtuous only, and will follow those models which we prescribed at first when we began the education of our soldiers. We certainly will, he said, if we have the power. Then now, my friend, I said, that part of music or literary education which relates to the story or myth may be considered to be finished; for the matter and manner have both been discussed. I think so too, he said. Next in order will follow melody and song. That is obvious. Every one can see already what we ought to say about them, if we are to be consistent with ourselves. I fear, said Glaucon, laughing, that the word ‘every one’ hardly includes me, for I cannot at the moment say what they should be; though I may guess. At any rate you can tell that a song or ode has three parts—the words, the melody, and the rhythm; that degree of knowledge I may presuppose? Yes, he said; so much as that you may. And as for the words, there will surely be no difference between words which are and which are not set to music; both will conform to the same laws, and these have been already determined by us? Yes. And the melody and rhythm will depend upon the words? Certainly. We were saying, when we spoke of the subject-matter, that we had no need of lamentation and strains of sorrow? True.

(6) If thou would'st see Him too through things that suffer death, both on the earth and in the deep, think of a man's being fashioned in the womb, my son, and strictly scrutinize the art of Him who fashions him, and learn who fashioneth this fair and godly image of the Man. Who [then] is He who traceth out the circles of the eyes; who He who boreth out the nostrils and the ears; who He who openeth [the portal of] the mouth; who He who doth stretch out and tie the nerves; who He who channels out the veins; who He who hardeneth the bones; who He who covereth the flesh with skin; who He who separates the fingers and the joints; who He who widens out a treading for the feet; who He who diggeth out the ducts; who He who spreadeth out the spleen; who he who shapeth heart like to a pyramid; who He who setteth ribs together; who He who wideneth the liver out; who He who maketh lungs like to a sponge; who He who maketh belly stretch so much; who he who doth make prominent the parts most honorable, so that they may be seen, while hiding out of sight those of least honor?

(43) The Will now standing thus in the dark Anxiety, it rgets another Will to fly out of the Anxiety again, and to generate the Light; and this other Will is the Mind, out of which proceed the Senses [or Thoughts] not to continue in the Anxiety: And the Will [appears,] discovers itself in the Essences of the Sourness, as in the fierce Hardness of Death; and the Glimpse [or Glance] breaks through the Essences of the sour Hardness, as a swift [or sudden] Flash, and sharpens itself in the sour Hardness, that it becomes [pale, white, or] glimmering like a Flash of Fire, and in its sudden Flight breaks the sour Darkness; and there stands the Hardness, and the harsh Sourness of Death like a broken turning Wheel, which with the Flash of the Breaking flies swiftly as a Thought; as also then the re-conceived Will (which is the Mind) appears so very suddenly. And seeing it cannot fly forward out of the Essences, it must go into the turning Wheel, (for it cannot get from that Place,) and so it breaks the Darkness. And when the Darkness is thus broken, [then] the sharp Glance discovers itself in the pleasant Joy without [or beyond] the Darkness in the Sharpness of the Will, viz. in the Mind, and finds itself habitable therein, from whence the Flash (or Glance) is terrified, and flies up with strong Might through the broken Essences out of the Heart, and would go out at the Mouth, and raises itself far from the Heart, and yet is held by the sour [or harsh] Fiat, and it then makes itself a several Region (viz. the Tongue) wherein then stands the Shriek [or the Crack] of the broken Essences. And seeing then it reflects [or recoils] back again into the Heart, as into its first Dwelling-house, and finds itself so very habitable and pleasant, because the Gates of the Darkness are broken, then it kindles itself so highly in the loving Will, by Reason of the Meekness, and goes no more like a stern [or fierce] Flash through all Essences, but [it] goes trembling with great Joy; and the Might of the Joy is now many hundred Times stronger, than first the Flash [or Glance] was, which yielded [or discovered] itself through the sour harsh Essences of the Death, and goes with strong Might out of the Heart into the Head, in the Will [or Purpose] to possess the heavenly Region.

(72) This you may see if a finger be but hurt, crushed or wounded, or any other member of the body, be it which it will; presently the spirit in that place runneth suddenly to the mother, the heart, and complaineth to the mother; and if the pain do but a little exceed, then the mother rouseth up and awakeneth all the members of the body, and all must come to help that member. Now observe,

(2) But in this sorrow needeth thee to have discretion, on this manner: thou shalt be wary in the time of this sorrow, that thou neither too rudely strain thy body nor thy spirit, but sit full still, as it were in a sleeping device, all forsobbed and forsunken in sorrow. This is true sorrow; this is perfect sorrow; and well were him that might win to this sorrow. All men have matter of sorrow: but most specially he feeleth matter of sorrow, that wotteth and feeleth that he is. All other sorrows be unto this in comparison but as it were game to earnest. For he may make sorrow earnestly, that wotteth and feeleth not only what he is, but that he is. And whoso felt never this sorrow, he may make sorrow: for why, he felt yet never perfect sorrow. This sorrow, when it is had, cleanseth the soul, not only of sin, but also of pain that it hath deserved for sin; and thereto it maketh a soul able to receive that joy, the which reeveth from a man all witting and feeling of his being.

(605) which he represents some pitiful hero who is drawling out his sorrows in a long oration, or weeping, and smiting his breast—the best of us, you know, delight in giving way to sympathy, and are in raptures at the excellence of the poet who stirs our feelings most. Yes, of course I know. But when any sorrow of our own happens to us, then you may observe that we pride ourselves on the opposite quality—we would fain be quiet and patient; this is the manly part, and the other which delighted us in the recitation is now deemed to be the part of a woman. Very true, he said. Now can we be right in praising and admiring another who is doing that which any one of us would abominate and be ashamed of in his own person? No, he said, that is certainly not reasonable. Nay, I said, quite reasonable from one point of view. What point of view? If you consider, I said, that when in misfortune we feel a natural hunger and desire to relieve our sorrow by weeping and lamentation, and that this feeling which is kept under control in our own calamities is satisfied and delighted by the poets;—the better nature in each of us, not having been sufficiently trained by reason or habit, allows the sympathetic

(41) Observe, as has been often mentioned, that as in the Fiat, in the aching Matrix (viz. the dark Harshness, [or Sourness]) the fire rose up in the Breaking- wheel in the Kindling; and that in the fiery, the Light of the Sun, and of all the Stars [sprung up,] (which is [done] in the harsh Matrix, which from the Light is become thin, lowly, and material Water,) and the pleasant Source of Love [sprung up,] so that one Form vehemently loves the other, in Respect of the kind, meek Light, which was come into all Forms. So now the soft Meekness was become a new Child, which was not the dark Originality in the anguishing Nature. But this Child was the Paradise, yet seeing it stood not in the Materia [or Matter,] therefore the Matrix of the Harshness could not comprehend it; but nit yielded itself forth very desirously, and longing with great Earnestness (according to the Fire and Bitterness) to comprehend the pleasant Source of Love, and yet could not comprehend it, for it was paradisical; and thus it still stood in great Longing, and generated Water. Part.

(47) And we must further a consider, that when the Shriek [or Crack] makes its Dwelling-house, in its strong Breaking-through, out of the Gate of the anxious Darkness, viz. the Tongue, that the Shriek [or Crack] has not then yet seen the Virgin; but when it reflected [or shined] back again into the Heart, into the opened Darkness, and found her so habitable, there then first sprung up its Joy, and Pleasantness, and it became paradisical, and desired not [to go] into the Tongue again, but into the Head, and [desired] there to have its Region out of the Source of the Heart. Therefore the Tongue ought not in all [or altogether] to be believed, for it sits not in the heavenly Region, as the friendly pleasant Virtue [does;] but it has its Region in the Crack and Flash, and the Flash is as near the hellish Region, as the Crack is, for they are both generated in the Sharpness of the Stars, in the Essences, and the Tongue speaks both Lyes and Truth; in which of the two the Spirit arms itself, according to that it speaks: Also it many Times speaks Lies in great Men; when it is armed from the Essences, then it speaks in the Crack, like a Rider in his [haughty, surly, vaunting State,] or high Mindedness. The Life of the Soul. The Gate.

(128) Just as the meek spirit of the heart goeth through the astringent and bitter quality, and overcometh it; and though it be indeed infected with the astringent and bitter spirit, yet it teareth and breaketh thorough, as a conqueror: But if it should wilfully sit still in the hollow hole in the astringent and bitter spirit, and suffer itself to be taken captive, and would not fight, then the fault were its own.

(21) Through grief my days are as labor and sorrow, My days move on, hand in hand with anguish. Yet,, though my days vanish thus, 'tis no matter, Do thou abide, O Incomparable Pure One! But all who are not fishes are soon tired of water; And they who lack daily bread find the day very long; So the "Raw" comprehend not the state of the "Ripe;" Arise, O son! burst thy bonds and be free! How long wilt thou be captive to silver and gold? Though thou pour the ocean into thy pitcher,

(99) Then the water becometh an anguishing sweat, which stands between death and life, and so the fire of the heat cannot kindle itself: For the unctuosity or fatness is captivated in the cold fire, and so the whole body remaineth a dark valley, which stands in an anguishing birth or geniture, and cannot comprehend or reach the life. For the life which stands in the light cannot elevate itself in the hard, bitter and astringent body; for it is captivated in the cold fire, but not quite dead.

(19) Thus the Soul stood with great Longing and Desire; also was many Times in great Combat with the Hunter, who would still throw it to the Ground. When it set itself in Opposition against him, then he took all the Vices (which stuck in Flesh and Blood) and cast them upon the Soul, that he might intangle it with them, and hinder it from comprehending the Virgin again; he made a great Mountain of the Sins in the Flesh and Blood, and therewith covered and shut close up the Mercy of God, viz. the new Man in Christ, and the Gates of Heaven, which stood open before, were shut up close: Misery and great Trouble were heaped upon the Soul, till at length once again, from the Breath of God (which came into it again) it was moved to break the Devil's Chains in Pieces, and it entered into Combat with him, so that he was quite thrown to the Ground, and its Covering was rent in Pieces, and then the Soul saw its beloved Virgin again. What friendly Welcoming there was then, I had rather the Reader might find by Experience, than that I should write of it.

(4) But there are earlier and loftier beauties than these. In the sense-bound life we are no longer granted to know them, but the soul, taking no help from the organs, sees and proclaims them. To the vision of these we must mount, leaving sense to its own low place.

As it is not for those to speak of the graceful forms of the material world who have never seen them or known their grace- men born blind, let us suppose- in the same way those must be silent upon the beauty of noble conduct and of learning and all that order who have never cared for such things, nor may those tell of the splendour of virtue who have never known the face of Justice and of Moral-Wisdom beautiful beyond the beauty of Evening and of dawn.

Such vision is for those only who see with the Soul's sight- and at the vision, they will rejoice, and awe will fall upon them and a trouble deeper than all the rest could ever stir, for now they are moving in the realm of Truth.

This is the spirit that Beauty must ever induce, wonderment and a delicious trouble, longing and love and a trembling that is all delight. For the unseen all this may be felt as for the seen; and this the Souls feel for it, every soul in some degree, but those the more deeply that are the more truly apt to this higher love- just as all take delight in the beauty of the body but all are not stung as sharply, and those only that feel the keener wound are known as Lovers.

(3) This sorrow, if it be truly conceived, is full of holy desire: and else might never man in this life abide it nor bear it. For were it not that a soul were somewhat fed with a manner of comfort of his right working, else should he not be able to bear the pain that he hath of the witting and feeling of his being. For as oft as he would have a true witting and a feeling of his God in purity of spirit, as it may be here, and sithen feeleth that he may not—for he findeth evermore his witting and his feeling as it were occupied and filled with a foul stinking lump of himself, the which behoveth always be hated and be despised and forsaken, if he shall be God’s perfect disciple learned of Himself in the mount of perfection—so oft, he goeth nigh mad for sorrow. Insomuch, that he weepeth and waileth, striveth, curseth, and banneth; and shortly to say, him thinketh that he beareth so heavy a burthen of himself that he careth never what betides him, so that God were pleased. And yet in all this sorrow he desireth not to unbe: for that were devil’s madness and despite unto God. But him listeth right well to be; and he intendeth full heartily thanking to God, for the worthiness and the gift of his being, for all that he desire unceasingly for to lack the witting and the feeling of his being.