[Jacopone da Todi, Ensegnateme Iesù Cristo, “Laude”, XV, 13th century.]
Soul speaks:
O Show me Jesus Christ,
Him would I find and hold;
For I have heard it told
He loves me tenderly.
Soul:
Teach me and lead me on
To find my Love so sweet;
No longer would I grieve my Lord
By pause, or by retreat:
Sore hath He mourned the tarrying of my feet,
Hath waited long for me.
Angels:
If thou wouldst find thy Love,
Christ Jesus, sweet and fair,
Behold, Humility's dark vale!
Thou needs must enter there:
Many have breathed that Valley's heavy air ;—
We tell thee faithfully.
Soul:
O counsel me, I pray!
My heart is sore be-stead;
Show me the path, that stedfastly
Right onward I may tread:
That I may hold my way, nor turn my head,
Nor stray confusedly.
Angels:
Humility's dark path
Hath but a narrow gate;
Yet, entered there, thy journey lies
More easy and more straight:
Thou shalt find consolation in that state,
Yea, comfort fair and free.
Soul:
Then open wide the gate,
That I may enter there;
Because it is His dwelling-place,
Jesus, my Love most fair.
Many have breathed that Valley's heavy air:—
Ye say it verily.
Angels:
We cannot let thee in,
For we have straitly sworn
That none shall enter at that gate
With raiment stained and worn:
Thy robe is evil-smelling, coarse and torn,
All soiled and foul to see.
Soul:
What is this robe I wear,
That makes me rank and vile f
Fain would I fling it far, that God
Might turn to me, and smile.
Fain would my heart be lovely, pure from guile,
Fair in its poor degree.
Angels:
Then strip the world away,
And every worldly thing;
These heavy burdens load thy heart—
'Tis sick and suffering.
The world where thou hast dallied, loitering,
Hath brought thee misery.
Soul:
Ah! see me tear it off,
This vain and worldly dress!
No more the burden will I bear
Of dark world-weariness:
Far, far from out my heart, all shelterless,
Created things shall flee!
Angels:
Not yet thy soul is stript,
As faithful spirits are:
Still worldly hopes entangle thee
With lies, thy course to mar:
Then tear them off, and hurl them all afar,
Lest they should ruin thee.
Soul:
I strip myself of hopes,
Those hopes so false and vain;
And I will flee from any man
Who would restore their reign;
Better to die in hunger and in pain,
Than bound so cruelly.
Angels:
Not yet thy soul is stript;
Not yet all fair 'tis found:
In pious friendships art thou clad,
Enveloped and enwound:
Strong winds may blow, and fling thee to the ground;
Many so tripped there be.
Soul:
Bitter is this command,
To leave these friendships true;
And yet I see, that from their use
Honours and pride ensue:
I will obey, and hide me from their view,
To gain humility.
Angels:
Nay, use these friendships fair,
In their due place and hour:
But open not thy door to them,
Distrust their charm and power.
Through open doorways, thieves may gain thy tower,
And sack thy treasury.
Soul:
Now open wide the gate,
That I my Love may seek:
My Life, my Hope, yea, Jesus Christ:
Love, turn to me and speak!
Nor longer be estranged from one so weak,
Who prays in courtesy.
Christ speaks:
Soul, thou art come to Me:
Now hear what I have said:
Thou canst be Mine upon the Cross:—
There only is My Bed.
There only canst thou lay thy weary head
With Mine eternally.
Soul:
O Christ, my Love, I climb
Thy Cross, I will not shrink:
Naked, and wrapt in Thine Embrace,
Death's cup with Thee to drink.
Joyful in anguish, in Thine Arms to sink,
Dying in ecstasy.
