Laud 92: Ineffable Love Divine by Jacopone da Todi

[Jacopone da Todi, Sopr'onne lengua amore, “Laude”, ‎XCII, 13th century.]

Ineffable Love Divine!
Sweetness unformed, yet bright,
Measureless, endless Light,
Flame in this heart of mine!

Well did I know Thee, meseemed,
Through intellect and through awe;
Thy visible semblance saw,
Tasted Thy savour sweet:
And perfectly, so I deemed,
I held Thee without a flaw,
Close to Thy Heart could I draw,
—Love, timeless, measureless, great!—
Yet now, all seemeth a cheat:
I hold Thee less and less;
I grasped, yet not possess
Thee, Uttermost Verity.

O Inconceivable Light!
Who can Thy secrets tell?
Thou Who wast fain to dwell
In darkness deep and obscure!
No more is Thy lantern bright
To guide the soul who would spell,
Measure, and mark Thee well,
And seize on Thine Essence pure.
Virtue nor strength is sure;
The night is turned to the day,
No words, no language have they
Thy splendour and light that see.

For Virtue's strength is weak,
When once it hath reached the goal.
The paths are quicksand and shoal,
That seemed so firm and so fair.
A new abyss and a bleak,
Quenches the light of the soul;
A change comes over the whole,
Unsought for, yet it is there.
The soul is stript and bare
Of all that it once possessed,
And all that it loved the least,
It yearns for ardently.

When the mind's very being is gone,
Sunk in a conscious sleep,
In a rapture divine and deep,
Itself in the Godhead lost:—
It is conquered, ravished and won!
Set in Eternity's sweep,
Gazing back on the steep,
Knowing not how it was crossed—
To a new world now is it tossed,
Drawn from its former state,
To another, measureless, great—
Where Love is drowned in the Sea.

In the midst of this Ocean's tide
Whelmed for evermore
It cannot find a shore,
Gone is the solid ground:
Thought it hath laid aside,
Transformed to its inmost core
It knows not its own heart's lore;
New-clad the soul is found:
Its feeling is sunk and enwound
In the Good that is ultimate,
The Beauty to contemplate
That is colourless, formless, free.

It welcometh any fate:
Transformed so wondrously
By union profound and free,
It whispereth " All is mine!"
Wide open standeth the gate—
The soul is joined to Thee,
Endlessly, utterly,
Possessing all that is Thine.
It feels what it cannot divine,
Sees what it may not discern,
Grasps more than Faith can learn,
Tastes God unknowingly.

It hath found the measureless way
Itself to lose and to spend,
And so it can comprehend
The Immeasurable Height:
And purifying its clay
From all alloy or blend,
It drinks without pause or end
Ineffable Delight.
Loosing, yet holding tight,
No longer the soul doth seek
Power to tell and to speak,
Transformed so utterly.

To lose, and yet to keep,
To love, and in joy to wait,
To gaze and to contemplate,
This is the True and the Real.
To possess in certainty deep;
To float in that blessed state,
Anchored, yet early and late,
Nearer, nearer to steal;
—Deeper than woe or weal
Is the Act of Heavenly Love,
And the Light of Truth from above,
Strong, eternal and free.

None other Act can be there,
Naught other can ever draw nigh,
And all that is past must die,
In the mind that restlessly sought.
The loves that scorch and flare,
And the sorrows, must all pass by;
That Light in the flooded sky,
Is other than once we thought:
And the things for which we fought,
We must leave them all behind,
New, wonderful things to find,
Other than eye can see.

The light that was once so clear
Now seems as dark as night:
All that we thought was right,
Imperfect and poor we find:
Nor can we see and hear
In figures, as once we might,
When we could speak and write,
With the searching, curious mind.
The perfect Good to bind,
The symbols we fancied true,
Are useless, through and through;
So prisoned she cannot be.

Before the goal is attained,
The light that is clear as day,
Seems darkness upon the way;
The sun seems gloomy as night.
Before the Ocean is gained,
Where Self is noughted for aye,
'Tis but Falsehood's glimmering ray,
We take for Truth's own light.
Not yet unstained and bright,
Is Charity in thy soul,
If thou yield not up the whole,
If victor thou still wouldst be.

If thou in images fair,
In types and figures, wouldst see,
And the Unconditioned, the Free,
Wouldst measure and mark and taste:
If thou thinkest, by searching and care,
To encompass Infinity,
To enclose and clasp It to thee,
—Vain are thy hopes and thy haste!
Thy thoughts are error and waste!
Thy faith, so strong and certain,
Is but a dissolving curtain,
Hiding the Perfect from thee.

When the Unknown takes thy hand,
Let Him lead thee where He will;
Perchance He may guide thee still
To the vision of His Truth.
Stript of thy self must thou stand,
Vain are thy searchings until
Vanity's cup thou spill;
It never can quench thy drouth.
Love Calm, that is tranquil and smooth,
Beyond all feeling and deed;
It will satisfy thy need,
Sink thyself in that Sea!

Be happy in any place
Where He pleaseth to set thy feet;
'Tis in vain the bars to beat,
Effort and struggle are vain.
If He offer thee His embrace,
Run His caress to meet!
—If not, His withholding is sweet,—
Reck not of loss nor of gain.
If thy love be pure from stain,
Thou wilt be ever content,
Thy longings only bent
To shine more fearlessly.

What thou art willing to give,
That only is thine indeed:
If thou canst not rule thy need,
Thou canst have no mastery.
Nothing can bloom and live
That is clutched by force and greed:
Fair Courtesy must thou heed,
And guard her tenderly.
Thy pathway is not in thee;
Far away doth it bend,
In the Lord, thy Way and thy End,
Voyage and Harbour is He.

So if thou hast found thy Lord,
Verily shalt thou know
Thou canst not discover nor show,
Any good of thine own.
'Twas Love, the Eternal Word,
All good on thee did bestow,
Ere Creation's primal flow,
Ere the seeds of the world were sown.
The Ineffable, the Unknown,
Filleth thy cup to the brim;
Set all thy desires on Him,
The Giver of all is He.

Ask nothing to be thine own,
Save to be one with thy Lord,
To lose thy note in His chord,
To be transformed in Him:
—Thy will, contented and prone,
Accepting all His award,
Robed all in His accord,
Stript of thy self-hood dim.
This state overfloweth the brim
Of virtues and merits all;
Nor will Christ let thee fall
Into sin and misery.

When thou lov'st thyself no longer,
But only that Good and Fair,
Utterly strive and dare
Therewith One Thing to be made.
Thine answer must aye be stronger
To thy Lover's tender prayer,
Drawn into His Essence there,
Towards His Being swayed.
This One-head can never fade;
Division must strive in vain,
To make One Heart into twain,
So deep is this Unity.

If thou hast served Him well,
Given Him all that was thine,
Loved only the Divine,
He never will part from thee.
Wholly in Him shalt thou dwell,
Thy being with His combine:
If sin should sully that shrine,
Sharer in sin would He be!
From Himself how can He flee?
His light can never be quenched,
So thou, in that glory drenched,
Shalt be His to Eternity.

O loftiest Verity!
All, all is under Thy sway;
Thou art the End and the Way,
For all who can seek Thee and find.
O gentle Tranquillity!
Whose greatness endureth for aye,
Who knowest not change nor decay,
Whom naught can vary nor bind.
Thy Light with Thy Strength is twined;
Thy Infinite Essence and Soul
Can pass through all that is foul,
Nor sully Its purity.

White without spot or stain,
Is the mind that possesseth Thee,
From smutch of sin is it free,
Sin cannot reach that height.
High on its heavenly plane,
It dwells in tranquillity;
Evil and good can it see,
Below it in circling flight.
It recks not of Wrong nor Right;
The virtues it soars above,
Feels not its own fervent love,
Distinctions vanish and flee.

The battle is over now,
The travail that drains the blood,
The spirit's struggle for good,—
Peace hath ended the war.
With his helmet on his brow,
Behold the spirit renewed,
With tempered armour endued,
Wound cannot hurt him nor scar.
He looks on the radiance afar,
Asks not for symbol nor sign;
No tapers of sense may shine,
On those heights of Eternity.

Far over the firmament,
Where the stellar Heaven is bright,
Adorned by virtues white,
To the Third Heaven's ecstasy,
The soul hath made its ascent!
Beyond the Crystalline Height
To the seraphs' Fire and Light;
Far, far above purity!
That light, divine and high,
Can never be stained nor spoiled,
Never by sin be soiled,
No evil therein can be.

Faith no longer is here,
For faith is lost in sight;
Hope is changed to delight,
Grasping what once it sought.
Desire no more draws near,
Nor force of will, nor affright
Lest the Treasure should take to flight;
The soul by Love is taught:
All his beliefs and his thought
Were foolish and poor and blind,
Tumult and tempest and wind,
Error and falsity.

High in that Empyrean,
The soul finds treasure so great,
No place it hath, and no date,
Nothing for tongue to tell.
And wonder groweth more keen,
At the soul, thus re-create,
In a new and stronger state,
Where images cannot dwell,
Where illusions melt and dispel;
It cannot be lost in night,
Darkness is turned to light,
In a love so great and free.

As air becomes luminous,
When filled with the light of day;
—As wax dissolveth away,
In the heat and glow of fire:
So the soul grows glorious,
Fused in that Heavenly Ray;
No action can it essay,
Gone arc its Will and Desire.
The Height that is ever higher
Absorbs its heart and its breath,
It is living, yet lives in death,
Is vanquished in victory.

For wine poured into the sea,
A man may search in vain,
There is left of it not a stain,
In the ocean waves that roll.
Itself no more can it be,
Nor doth it ask to regain
Its former essence again;
It must give its being in toll.
So Love hath drunk the Soul,
And Truth hath changed it so,
All that it was must go,
It giveth its self in fee.

It yearns, yet desireth not,
For its will is not its own;
It longs for naught that is known,
Except that Beauty so fair.
Its longings are all forgot,
It asks nor bread nor a stone;
Nothingness is its throne;
Sweet is its holding there.
This state, so lofty and rare,
On Nothingness is it built,
In the Lord it is noughted and spilt,
Formed and stablished to be.

O Noughting mysterious!
So strong thou art and so great,
Thou openest every gate,
That leads to the Infinite.
Thou art Very Truth for us,
We fear not death nor fate,
Thou guidest evil and hate,
Thou makest the darkness bright.
The heart of man thou canst plight
So close to the Heart Divine,
There is left no dividing line,
To trouble Love's ecstasy.

So subtle thy wisdom and deep,
The world that passeth away
Below thy sphere must stay,
Imperfect, shadowy, vain.
So light, so swift canst thou leap
To that unclouded day,
Thou needst not stoop nor delay,
To gaze upon guilt or stain.
Forever that joyful strain
Rings in concord and peace;
All pain and sorrow shall cease,
Uplifted to Verity.

There pleasure and trouble are naught,
Far from thee they are flung;
Fast to God thou hast clung,
Thy pleasure with His to entwine.
Liking and loathing are brought
To nothingness on thy tongue;
No more dost thou crave or long,
In the peace that forever is thine.
This is that fire divine
That purges, but doth not burn;
Where heat and cold unlearn
Their arrogant mastery.

Thou scekest not any reward,
And yet reward thou dost find,
— New gifts, new light for the mind,
More than heart could demand.
What thou tak'st, thou dost safely guard,
And fast to thy being bind:
Give all, for more is behind,
Fresh joys for thine emptied hand.
Thou dost run, though thou canst not stand;
Dost mount, although thou descend;
Hast more, the more thou dost spend,
Possessing the Deity.

Possessed of Him, He is thine,
In union so intimate,
That nothing shall separate—
Nothing draw thee away.
Thou drink'st, and thou art the Wine;
Transformed to that perfect state,
So holy, so pure and great,
Nothing can lead thee astray.
Never His hand can delay,
Never His gifts shall cease,
Thou hast entered His central peace
Beloved and Lover to be.

Death thou hast left behind,
The centre of life is here;
No wounding needst thou fear
Nothing can hurt thee more.
Nothing can force thee nor bind,
Thy Self is no longer near;
No hostile voice canst thou hear,
Upon this infinite shore.
God, Who taught thee to soar,
He only can understand
Thee, the work of His hand;
Thy Maker and Lord is He.

Thou who wert once so low,
Art now exalted so high,
To God thou art ever nigh,
Dost reign with Him in content.
Thy baseness is noughted so,
In the heights of His Majesty,
It needs must vanish and die,
Like mist, 'tis scattered and spent.
This is that wondrous ascent,
Whose depth is one with its height,
They only can grasp it aright,
Who dwell in its secrecy.

When all that was thine is lost
The riches thou countedst o'er—
—Never was known before
So great and rare an exchange!
O Light that gives without cost
A Lack that shall be a store,
A Want that is able to pour
Power beyond action's range!
O Covenant new and strange!
Where life doth sicken and fade,
Yet in sickness is stronger made,
Mounts and falls like the sea!

So deep, so pure is thy light,
It turns a fault to a gain;
All that would hinder and pain,
Lieth defeated and dead.
Thy gifts are perfect and right,
All others are useless and vain,
The dead thou raisest again,
The sick to health thou hast led.
Thou hast skill, the healing to shed
In the poison's venomous bite;
Splendour to hide in the night,
And in ruin, constancy.

Thou art a garden in bloom,
Adorned with many a flower;
And there, thro' sun and thro' shower,
The Tree of Life shall be green.
Purged of shadows and gloom,
Thou art Light divine, and Power,
Firmness and strength are thy dower,
From maiming and taint made clean.
And since to the truth unseen
Eternally thou art wed,
Change cannot touch thee, nor dread,
Nor any diversity.

Love cannot transform the soul,
How strong so ever He be,
Save hand in hand with thee,
To make it perfect and fair.
To gain that ultimate goal,
Virtue and Intellect flee;
Love's face they never may see,
Save with thy shelter and care.
No gates shall be bolted there,
Against the touch of thy hand;
Thou art the lord of that land,
Reigning in majesty.

Sweetheart of Christ wast thou,
To every saint thou wast dear;
Pure is thy Light and clear,
Great the gifts of thy reign.
We plead withQur Lady now,
—Who dwelt in thy holy sphere,—
Our singing and prayers to hear,
To grant us Love without stain,
Vision unveiled and plain
Of Truth, supreme and apart;—
And the Noughting of our own heart,
In uttermost Poverty.