Part 5

"Lord, to Thee my jewel I bring, Greater than mountains high; Broader than all the earth's broad lands, Heavier than the ocean sands, And higher it is than the sky: Deeper it is than the depths of the sea, And fairer than the sun, Unreckoned, as if the stars could be All gathered into one."

"O thou, My Godhead's image fair, Thou Eve, from Adam framed, My flesh, My bone, My life to share, My Spirit's diadem to wear, How is thy jewel named?"

"Lord, it is called my heart's desire, From the world's enchantments won; I have borne it afar through flood and fire, And will yield it up to none; But the burden I can bear no more-- Where shall I lay it up in store?"

"There is no treasure-house but this, My heart divine, My Manhood's breast; There shall My Spirit's sacred kiss Fill thee with rest."

How the Soul praises God for Seven Things, and God praiseth the Soul who loves Him.

O Jesus Lord, most fair, most passing sweet, In darkest hours revealed in love to me, In those dark hours I fall before Thy Feet, I sing to Thee. I join the song of love, and I adore With those who worship Thee for evermore. Thou art the Sun of every eye, The Gladness everywhere, The Voice that speaks eternally, The Strength to do and bear, The sacred Lore of wisdom's store, The Life of life to all, The Order mystic, marvellous In all things great and small.

Then doth God praise the soul, and the words of His praise sound sweetly, thus--

Thou art light to Mine eyes, and a harp to Mine ears, And the voice of My words, and My wisdom's crown, The love that cheers Mine eternal years, My music, and My renown. Wherever thy pilgrim steps may be, Thou longest, beloved, thou longest for Me.

The soul saith--

Thy love hast Thou told from the days of old, Thou hast written my name in Thy Book divine; Engraved on Thy Hands and Thy feet it stands, And on Thy side as a sign. O glorious Man in the garden of God, Thy sacred Manhood is mine. I kneel on the golden floor of heaven With my box of ointment sweet, Grant unto me, Thy much forgiven, To kiss and anoint Thy feet.

Where wilt thou find that ointment rare, O My beloved one?

Thou brakest my heart and didst find it there, Rest sweetly there alone.

There is no embalming so sweet to Me, As to dwell, My well-beloved, in thee.

The soul saith--

Lord, take me home to Thy palace fair, So will I ever anoint Thee there.

"I will. But My plighted troth saith, 'Wait;' And My love saith, 'Work to-day;' My meekness saith, 'Be of low estate;' And My longing, 'Watch and pray;' My shame and sorrow say, 'Bear My cross;' My song saith, 'Win the crown;' My guerdon saith, 'All else is loss;' My patience saith, 'Be still,' Till thou shalt lay the burden down, Then, when I will. Then, beloved, the crown and palm, And then the music and the psalm; And the cup of joy My Hand shall fill Till it overflow; And with singing I strike the harp of gold I have tuned below, The harp I tune in desolate years Of sorrow and tears, Till a music sweet the chords repeat, Which all the heavens shall fill; For the holy courts of God made meet, Then, when I will."

A fivefold Song of the Soul to God, and how God is a Robe of the Soul, and the Soul a robe of God.

Thou hast shone within this soul of mine, As the sun on a shrine of gold; When I rest my heart, O Lord, on Thine, My bliss is manifold. My soul is the gem on Thy diadem, And my marriage robe Thou art; If aught could sever my heart from Thine, The sorrow beyond all sorrows were mine, Alone and apart. Could I not find Thy love below, Then would my soul as a pilgrim go To Thy holy land above; There would I love Thee as I were fain, With everlasting love. Now have I sung my tuneless song, But I hearken, Lord, for Thine; Then shall a music, sweet and strong, Pass into mine.

"I am the Light, and the lamp thou art; The River, and thou the thirsty land; To thee thy sighs have drawn My heart, And ever beneath Thee is My hand. And when thou weepest, it needs must be Within Mine arms that encompass thee; Thy heart from Mine can none divide, For one are, the Bridegroom and the Bride: It is sweet, beloved, for Me and thee, To wait for the day that is to be."

O Lord, with hunger and thirst I wait, With longing before Thy golden gate, Till the day shall dawn, When from Thy lips divine have passed The sacred words that none may hear But the soul who, loosed from the earth at last, Hath laid her ear To the Mouth that speaks in the still sweet morn Apart and alone; Then shall the secret of love be told, The mystery known.

The Lord giveth a tenfold Honour to the Soul.

The mouth of the Lord hath spoken, Hath spoken a mighty word; My sinful heart it hath broken, Yet sweeter I never heard. "Thou, thou art, O soul, My deep desire, And My love's eternal bliss; Thou art the rest where leaneth My breast, And My mouth's most holy kiss. Thou art the treasure I sought and found, Rejoicing over thee; I dwell in thee, and with thee I am crowned, And thou dost dwell in Me. Thou art joined to Me, O Mine own, for ever, And nearer thou canst not be; Shall aught on earth or in heaven sever Myself from Me?"

Between God and the Soul only Love.

'Twixt God and thee but love shall be, 'Twixt earth and thee distrust and fear, 'Twixt sin and thee shall be hate and war, And hope shall be 'twixt heaven and thee, Till night is o'er.

How God maketh the Soul to be Free and Wise in His Love.

My love, My dove, thy feet are red, Thy wings are strong, thy mouth is sweet, Thine eyes are fair, erect thy head, Beside the waters dost thou tread, Thy flight is far and fleet.

O Lord, the Blood that hath ransomed me Hath dyed my feet; With Thy faithfulness my wings are strong, With Thy Spirit my mouth is sweet. And my eyes are fair with the light of God, And safe in Thy shelter I lift my head, And beside the waters of life I tread, I follow where Thou hast trod; And my flight is swift, for Thy love hath need Of me, Lord, even me. When from the earthly prison freed My soul shall be; Then shall she rest through the ages blest, O Lord, in Thee.

The Road wherein the Soul leadeth the Senses, and where the Soul is Free from Care.

It is a wondrous and a lofty road Wherein the faithful soul must tread; And by the seeing there the blind are led, The senses by the soul acquaint with God. On that high path the soul is free, She knows no care nor ill, For all God wills desireth she, And blessed is His will.

How the Bride casts away the Solace of Created Things, and seeks only the Comfort of God.

Thus speaks the Bride, whose feet have trod The chamber of eternal rest, The secret treasure-house of God, Where God is manifest: "Created things, arise and flee, Ye are but sorrow and care to me."

This wide, wide world, so rich and fair, Thou sure canst find thy solace there?

"Nay, 'neath the flowers the serpent glides, Amidst the bravery envy hides."

And is not heaven enough for thee?

"Were God not there 'twere a tomb to me."

O Bride, the saints in glory shine, Can they not fill that heart of thine?

"Nay, were the Lamb, their light, withdrawn, The saints in gloom would weep and mourn."

Can the Son of God not comfort thee?

"Yea, Christ and none besides for me! For mine is a soul of noble birth, That needeth more than heaven and earth; And the breath of God must draw me in To the Heart that was riven for my sin. For the Sun of the Godhead pours His rays Through the crystal depths of His manhood's grace; And the Spirit sent by Father and Son Hath filled my soul, and my heart hath won; And the longing and love are past and gone, For all that is less than God alone-- God only, sweet to this heart of mine-- O wondrous death that is life divine!"

Of Love, the Handmaiden of the Soul, and of the Soul whom Love hath Smitten.

Of old, beloved damsel, My handmaid thou wouldst be; But thy ways are strange and wondrous, Thou hast chased and captured me. Thou hast wounded me right sore, Thou hast smitten me amain, And I know that never more Can my heart be whole again. Can the hand that has wounded heal? Or slay, if no balm there be? Else had it been for my weal Thou wert all unknown to me.

"I chased thee, for so was my will; I captured thee, for my need; I bound thee, and bind thee still, For I would not have thee freed; I wounded thee sore, that for evermore Thou shouldest live by my life alone: When I smote thee, mine wert thou life and limb; I drave the Almighty God from His throne, Of the life of His manhood despoiled I Him. I brought Him back in glorious might To the Father in heaven's eternal light; And thou, poor worm, shouldst thou go free, As if my hand had not smitten thee?"

Be thou in Suffering a Lamb, a Dove, and a Bride.

Thou art My Lamb in patience dumb, My Dove in sighing for Me, My Bride in waiting till I shall come In the day that is to be.

Of the Two Golden Chalices of Sorrow and of Comfort.

I, slothful sinner that I am, knelt down at my hour of prayer, and it seemed to me as if God were unwilling to give me the least measure of His grace. Then would I fain have wept and mourned, because of my sinful desires; for it seemed to me that they were the hindrance to my spiritual gladness.

But no, said my soul, think rather of the faithfulness of God, and praise Him for His goodness. Glory be to God in the highest!

And as I praised, there shone a great light into my soul; and in the light, God showed Himself to me in great majesty, and in unspeakable glory. And it was as if He held up in His hands two golden chalices, and both were full of living wine. In the left hand was the red wine, the wine of sorrow, and in the right hand the most holy consolation. Then did the Lord say, "There are some who drink of this wine alone, although I pour out both in My divine love. Yet the golden wine is in itself the noblest, and most noble are those who drink of both, the red wine and the golden."

The Working of Blessed Love.

It were bitterer than death to me if ever I did that which is good, without God.

This is the nature of the great love which is of God. She does not flow forth in tears, but burns in the great fire of heavenly glory. And thus she spreads to the farthest distances, and yet remains in herself steadfast and still. She rises up into the nearest converse with God, and remains in herself in the lowest measure. She grasps the most, and retains the least.

O blessed Love, who are they who know thee? They are those through whom the light of God glows and burns. They dwell not in themselves. The more they are tried, the stronger they grow. Why so? Because the longer they are in conflict, yet abiding in love, the more glorious is God to their souls, and the more do they see themselves to be unworthy and vile.

Why so? Because the greater the love, the greater is holy fear; and the fuller the comfort, the stronger the dread of sin. The loving soul does not fear with terror, but she fears nobly. There are two things over which I cannot mourn enough--one is, that God is so forgotten in the world; the other, that His people are so imperfect. Therefore many fall, because the godly have fallen before them.

How God speaks to the Soul in Three Places.

In the first of these places does the devil also speak, which he cannot do in the other two.

The first place is the mind of man, and this stands open not to God only, but to the devil and to all creatures, who enter in as they will, and hold converse with the soul through the mind.

The second place in which God speaks, is in the soul itself. And into the soul none can enter but God only. When God speaks to the soul, it is without the aid of the senses. It is in a mighty, strong, and swift communication, in a speech the mind cannot comprehend, unless the mind is so humbled as to take the lowest place amongst created things.

The third place where God speaks with the soul is in heaven, when God draws the soul up thither, and brings her into His secret place, where He shows her all His wonders.

Of False Love.

All, who do not in all things cleave to the truth of God, must fall with bitter loss. For love, which has not humility for her mother, and holy fear for her father, will be a barren love.

Matilda's Faith.

Thus far in the five first books of Matilda's writings can we trace the history of her soul before she found her last refuge in the convent of Hellfde.

Preger's remarks are valuable as showing how Matilda, in expressions which she borrowed from the common stock of the writings of the mystics, as well as in expressions of her own, might appear to have wandered into the regions of Pantheism. That she herself attached a meaning to these expressions, which those who were simply mystics, and not believers in Christ as their Saviour, could not understand, seems, however, clear. But the expressions were open to the danger of being thus misunderstood. To those who were mystics, and nothing more, intercourse with God was a vague sentiment; and what they called the love of God, was merely a name given to their own human thoughts of God, the God of their imagination.

But Matilda insisted strongly upon the truth, that there is no way to God but through the Lord Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sinners. That otherwise all communication between the soul and God is cut off, "the bolt fastened by Adam" holding fast the door between God and men.

In speaking of some (no doubt the "Brethren of the Free Spirit"), she mentions as the greatest sin, and as the highest degree of unbelief, that "men should think to enter into the presence of the eternal God, passing by the holy Manhood of our Lord Jesus Christ. When such people imagine themselves to have entered into communication with the being of God, they enter instead into eternal condemnation. And yet by that means they intend to become holier than others. They set at nought and deride the words of God, which are written regarding the Manhood of our Lord."

Thus to an unbelieving mystic, the term "union with God" was familiar, and meant nothing better than the dreams of a Buddhist. But to Matilda, though she did not, and no doubt could not, clearly define it, the truth was revealed, expressed in so few words in the fifth chapter of the Epistle to the Ephesians, where, with reference to Christ and the Church, it is written, "He that loveth his wife loveth _himself_. For no man ever yet hated his own flesh; but nourisheth it and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the Church: for we are members of His body, of His flesh, and of His bones. For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh. This is a great mystery: but I speak concerning Christ and the Church." And again, in 1 Cor. xii. 12, "As the body is one, and hath many members, and all the members of that one body, being many, are one body: so also _is Christ_."

That this truth, taught so plainly in many passages of Scripture, notably by the Lord Himself in the one word which smote the heart of Paul, "Why persecutest thou _Me_?" was the truth Matilda believed, seems to be clear. But she was apt to use, when speaking of it, the stereotyped expression "union with God," not perceiving that this is untrue, and incapable of being symbolised, as in Ephesians, by the figure of Adam and Eve. It is not Christ as God, but as the second Adam, who is there symbolised.

Many such incorrect expressions may, no doubt, be found now in modern Protestant books.[9]

Preger further remarks, "If we would describe religious life, as shown in Matilda, by its distinctive features, we should remark, in the first place, that she is seeking after a consciousness, or is, in fact, conscious of being in immediate intercourse with God. Whilst the majority of her contemporaries knew of no relation with God, except through culture or learning, or the medium of saints, or the ordinances of the Church, and were satisfied to know no more, Matilda looked upon all these things merely as helps to personal and immediate communion with God. This alone could satisfy her.

"And further, she was aware that into this communion with God she could only be brought through God's free grace. And only by free grace could she retain it. It is true she speaks of human merit, and alludes to the intercession of Mary, but in so doing was rather expressing the ruling thoughts of her age than her own innermost convictions. For it is only in speaking of others that she admits the merit of human works; she has another law for herself, finding, as she says, no peace in the good works of the saints, 'and as for me, unhappily I have no good works to find peace in.'

"That which is the important matter with regard to Matilda's faith is this--she grounds her peace not on imparted, but on imputed righteousness. 'It is a fathomless mystery,' she says, 'that God can look upon a sinner as a converted man.'

"But in spite of this evangelical tendency in her writings, we cannot but receive the impression that in the heights of her communion with God she at times loses the safe path. The reason of this is, that the subordinate place which she gives to all relations between God and men by Church ordinances is also given more or less to the knowledge of God by means of the written Word. It does not appear to be the ring in which her new life is set; it would seem as though she endeavoured to soar above it, in order to assure herself more firmly of her state of grace by immediate communications from God to her soul.

"Therefore she seems in some passages to regard the written Word and the Divine Word spoken to her as distinct, and on the same level. Thus, as in mysticism generally, the safe path is lost, and the soul is cast forth upon the wide sea of subjective self-consciousness.

"We feel the presentiment of this danger, and the need of a safer path, in which the security of Divine teaching is ours. This can only be when the written Word is the seed of Divine knowledge, and the faculties of man the ground in which the seed takes root."

So far Preger. It may also be remarked, that whilst Matilda evidently grounded her salvation and enjoyment of God upon the atoning work of Christ, she does not allude to it very frequently. We must remember that amongst all the errors of mediaeval Catholicism, the blood-shedding of Christ was still regarded as the means by which sin was expiated. It was still an article of faith, though disfigured, and often kept out of sight by all that man had added to the Scriptures.

Matilda, therefore, regarded it as an understood necessity in Christian faith, and as not demanding frequent assertion or proof. Had she lived in our days it might have been otherwise.

That "Christ once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God," was a truth known and believed amongst the "Friends of God," Catholic or Waldensian. That "it is the Blood that maketh atonement for the soul," that "without shedding of Blood there is _no remission_," that on Christ, the Lamb who was slain, did "the Lord lay the iniquity of us all," they knew, and rejoiced to know. However overlaid in Roman Catholicism by the teaching of human merit, and of the mediation and intercession of the saints, this truth was preserved through God's great mercy in the corruption of the Church. It may be found yet as the anchor of the soul in the confession of faith of many an ignorant and unlearned Roman Catholic, who know little of the doctrines of their Church, but who do know from their service-books that "Christ died for our sins."

The three have ever borne witness on earth, the Spirit, the Water, and the Blood, and these three agree in one--a witness never silenced through the darkest ages of the Church.

It was during the last years of Matilda's life that she wrote for "the children of the world" a call to Christ.

Wilt thou, sinner, be converted? Christ, the Lord of glory, see By His own denied, deserted, Bleeding, bound, and scourged for thee. Look again, O soul, behold Him On the cross uplifted high; See the precious life-blood flowing, See the tears that dim His eye. Love has pierced the heart that brake, Loveless sinner, for thy sake: Hearken till thy heart is broken To His cry so sad and sweet; Hearken to the hammer smiting Nails that pierce His hands and feet. See the side whence flows the fountain Of His love and life divine, Riven by a hand unthankful-- Lo! that hand is thine. See the crown of thorns adorning God's beloved holy Son, Then fall down in bitter mourning, Weep for that which _thou_ hast done. Thank Him that His heart was willing So to die for love to thee; Thank Him for the joy that maketh This world's joy but gall to be. And till thou in heaven adore Him Fight for Him in knightly guise; Joy in shame and toil and sorrow, Glorious is the prize!

The Echo of the Book.

Matilda had a friend, called Jutta von Sangershausen. A relation of hers, Anno von Sangershausen, was the Grand-Master of the Teutonic Order of Knights. Other members of the family had offered their services to the order in defence of their country from the invasions of the heathen Prussians.

Jutta's husband had died on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Her children entered various convents. Jutta then joined herself to the Beguines, and was employed for a time in nursing the sick, especially those afflicted with leprosy. In the year 1260 she determined to go forth as a missionary amongst the Prussians. She took up her abode in a forest near Culm, where she lived as a hermitess, making known the faith of Christ by word and example.

Matilda for a time resolved to go also as a missionary to the heathen. But she was now growing old, and worn-out by labours and persecutions. It was evident that she no longer had the needful strength. She was grieved to the heart that she could not thus make Christ known, and she laid the matter before the Lord.

He consoled her, and showed her that as He had sent Jutta to the heathen, so had He also given her His message, which should be sent far and wide in the book which she was writing.

And so it proved, as her book was widely known and read for a considerable time after her death. Even now it may be that the words so lately brought to light in the convent of Einsiedeln may lead some weary souls to Christ. And still the reflection of the light which shone into the heart of Matilda shines forth more faintly in the poem known and read through so many ages, and in so many lands--the great poem of Dante.

It is now more than seventy years ago that a young man travelling in Italy employed himself at Venice in reading the _Divine Commedia_, for the sake of learning Italian. He had cared till then for the things of this world only, but he left Venice with the first beginning of a love which was to shape his long life, and make him the means of life to many.

It was from the poem of Dante, he said, that he had first learnt to know Christ as his Saviour. He may be known to many as the writer of the hymn so often sung--

"A pilgrim through this lonely world The blessed Saviour passed; A mourner all His life was He, A dying Lamb at last"--

a distant echo of Matilda's voice sounding in many places still.