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Some Exclamations

by St. Bernard of Clairvaux

 

Bernard's Appeal

I am no longer able to veil my grief, to suppress my anxiety, to dissemble my sorrow. Therefore, contrary to the order of justice, I who have been wounded am constrained to recall him who hath wounded me; I, the despised, must seek after him who hath despised me; after suffering injury, I must offer satisfaction to him from whom the injury has come; I must, in a word, entreat him who ought rather to entreat me. But grief does not deliberate, it knows no shame, it does not consult reason, it does not fear any lowering of dignity, does not conform itself to rule, does not submit itself to sound judgment; it ignores method and rule; the mind is wholly and only occupied with this: to seek to be rid of what it pains it to have, or to gain what it grieves it to want. I am wretched because I miss thee, because I do not see thee, because I live without thee, for whom to die would be to me life, to live without whom is to die! Only come back, and all will be peace. Return, and I shall be at rest. Return, I say: return! and I shall joyfully sing, "He that was dead is alive again; he was lost, and is found." No doubt it may have been my fault that you departed. I must have appeared severe to so delicate a youth, and in my own hardness have treated thy tenderness too harshly. What I say, my son, I do not say to confound thee, but to admonish my most dear boy; for though thou mayest have many teachers in Christ, thou has not many fathers. If thou wilt permit me to say so, I myself have brought thee forth into the life of religion, by instruction and example. How can it please thee that another should glory in thee who has in no way labored for thee?

 

St. Bernard's Hymn

Jesu, the very thought of thee
With sweetness fills the breast;
But sweeter far Thy face to see
And in Thy presence rest.
 
No voice can sing, no heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find,
A sweeter sound than Jesus' name,
The Saviour of mankind.
 
O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
To those who fall how kind Thou art!
How good to those who seek!
 
But what to those who find! Ah this
Nor tongue nor pen can show;
The love of Jesus, what it is
None but His lov'd ones know.
 
Jesu our only joy be Thou,
As Thou our prize wilt be
In Thee be all our glory now,
And through eternity.

 

My Enemies

The world lays close siege, and my five senses are the avenues by which it enters and attacks me. They give free passage to the fatal darts, and here death makes its approaches to my heart. My eye gazes about, and by admitting variety of engaging subjects, draws off my attention from the one thing necessary. The ear is open to pleasing sounds, and these disturb the mind in its meditations. The smell amuses, and obstructs serious thinking. The tongue is lavish in speech, and lets itself loose in flattery and falsehood. The touch kindles impure fires, takes every slight occasion to defile itself with lust, and unless the first motions be carefully guarded, and resolutely rejected, it seizes, vanquishes, and inflames the whole body: the steps by which it advances in this conquest are, first to tickle the imagination with unclean thoughts, then to pollute the mind with unlawful delight, and at last to subdue the reason by consenting to wicked inclinations. Lastly, the devil bends his bow, and makes ready his arrows within the quiver.

 

Excerpted from Lectures on Bernard, by R.S. Storr and Meditations of St. Bernard

The Mystical Theology of Saint Bernard, by Etienne Gilson

Bernard of Clairvaux, by Jean LeClercq



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