Yes, all this while she hath sought thee without
finding, wept without comfort, and called without rec-
ceiving an answer : but now thou comest to satisfy her
seeking with thy presence, her tears with thy triumph,
and all her cries with this one word - Mary ! - for
when she heard thee call her in thy wonted manner,
and with thy usual voice, the mere sound of her name
issuing from thy lips wrought a most sudden and
strange alteration in her. By this single word her
senses are restored, her mind enlightened, her heart
quickened, and her soul revived. Yet what wonder,
that with one word he should raise the sunken spirits
of his poor disciple, since with a word he made the
world, and even in this little word showeth the omn-
potence of his power ?
Mary she was called, as well in her had as in her re-
formed state ; and both her good and evil was all of
Mary's working. And as Mary imports no less what
she was, than what she is ; so is this one word, by his
virtue that speaketh it, a repetition of all her mise-
ries, an epitome of his mercies, and a memorial of all
her better fortunes : and therefore it laid so general a
discovery of herself before her eyes, that it awakened
her most forgotten sorrows, and summoned together
the whole multitude of her joys ; and would have left
the issue of the conflict between them doubtful, had
not the presence of her highest happiness decided the
contest, and given her joys the victory. - As he was the
sun of her soul, his going down left nothing but a
gloomy night of fearful fancies, wherein no star of
hope shone, and the brightest planets were changed
into dismal signs ; but the serenity of his rising
brought a calm and well-tempered day, that chased
away all darkness, dispersed the clouds of melancholy,
arid roused her from the lethargy of her astonished
senses.
Ravished, therefore, with his voice, and impatient
of delays, she taketh the words out of his mouth, and
to his first, and yet only word, answered but one other,
calling him Rabboni ! - that is, Master. And then sud-
den joy rousing all other passions, she could no more
proceed in her own, than give him leave to go forward
with his speech. Love would have spoken, but fear
enforced silence. Hope had framed words, but doubt
melted them in the passage; and when her inward
conceits strove for utterance, her voice trembled, her
tongue faltered, her breath failed. In fine, tears is-
sued in lieu of words, and deep sighs instead of long
sentences ; the eye supplying the tongue's default,
and the heart forcing out the unsyllabled breath at
once, which the conflict of her passions would not
suffer to be sorted into the several sounds of intelli-
gible speech.
Such is their state that are overcome with a surfeit
of sudden joy, at the attaining of something vehe-
mently desired : for as Desire is ever ushered in by
Hope, and waited on by Fear, so is it credulous in en-
tertaining conjectures, but hard in grounding a firm
belief. And though it be ready to snatch at the least
shadow of the comfort it wishes, yet the more vehe-
ment the desire, the more perfect the assurance it re-
quires; and as long as this assurance is wanting, it is
rather an alarum to summon up all the passionts, than
a motive for quieting the desire. As Hope presumeth
the beat, and inviteth Joy to congratulate her on good
success ; so Fear suspecteth it too good to be true,
and calleth up sorrow to bewail the uncertainty.
Mary, therefore, though she suddenly answered
upon hearing his voice, yet because the novelty was
so strange, his person so changed, his presence so un-
suspected, and so many miracles laid at once before
her wondering eyes, she found a sedition in her
thoughts, till a more earnest view of him exempted
them from all doubt. And then, though words would
have broken out, and her heart sprung to the perform-
ance of the duty she owed him ; yet^ every thought
striving first for utterance, and to have the first place
in his gracious hearing, she was forced, as an indif-
ferent arbitress among them, to seal them all up in
silence, and to supply the want of words by more sig-
nificant actions. She therefore ran to the haunt of
her chiefest delight, and filing at his sacred feet, she
offered to bathe them with tears of joy, and to sanctify
her lips with kissing his once grievous, but now most
glorious, wounds.
She staid not for any more words, being now made
blessed by the Word himself, thinking it a greater be-
nefit at once to feed all her wishes in the homage, ho-
nour, and embracing of his feet, than in hearing all
that speech could utter.
And, as the nature of love coveteth not only to be
united, but, if it were possible, to be wholly trans-
formed out of itself into the thing it loveth ; so doth
it most affect that which most uniteth, and preferreth
the least union before the most distant contentment.
And therefore to see him, did not suffice her ; to hear
him did not quiet her; to speak with him, was not
enough for her ; and except she might touch him, no-
thing could please her. But though she humbly fell
down at his feet to kiss them, yet Christ forbade her
saying ; Do not touch me, for I am not yet ascended ta
my Father.
O Jesu, what mystery is in this ! When dead in sin,
she touched thy mortal feet that were to die for her
sake ; and being now alive in grace, may she not
touch thy glorious feet, that are no less revived for her
benefit ? She was once admitted to anoint thy head;
and is she now unworthy of access to thy feet ? Dost ,
thou now command her from that, for which thou
^wert wont to commend her ; and, by praising the
deed, didst move her frequently to perform it ? Since
other women shall touch thee hereafter, why is she
now rejected ? What meanest thou, O Lord, by thus
debarring her from so desired a duty ? And since, among
all thy disciples, thou hast vouchsafed her such a pre-
rogative as to honour her eyes with thy first sight, and:
her ears with thy first words, why deny her the privi-
lege of thy first embrace ? If the multitude of her
tears have won so great a fayour for her eyes, and her
longing to hear thee so singular a recompense for her
ears, why dost thou not admit her hands to touch, and
her lips to kiss, thy holy feet, since the one with many
plaints, and the other, with their readiness to all ser-
vices, seem to hare earned no less a reward. But not-
withstanding all this, thou preventest the effect of the
offer, by forbidding her to touch thee ; as if thou
hadst said - "O Mary, know the difference between a
glorious and a mortal body - between the condition of
a momentary, and of an eternal life : for since the im-
mortality of the body, and the glory both of the body
and the soul are the endowments of a heavenly inha-
bitant, and the rights of another world, think not this
fervour to seem ordinary, nor leave to touch me a com-
mon thing. It were not so great a wonder to see the
stars fall from their spheres, and the sun forsake the
heavens and come within the reach of a mortal arm.
As for me, that am not only a saint, but the Sovereign
of saints, and the sun whose beams are the angels'
bliss, to show myself visible to the pilgrims of this
world, and to display eternal beauties to corruptible
eyes. Though I be not yet ascended to my Father, I
shall shortly ascend ; and therefore measure not thy
demeanour towards me by the place where I am, but
by that which is due unto me, and then thou wilt rather
fall down afar off with reverence, than presume to
touch me with such familiarity. Dost thou not believe
my former promises ? Hast thou not a constant proof
by my present words ? Are not thine eyes and ears
sufficient testimonies ? Must thou also have thy hands
and lips witnesses of my presence ? - Touch me not,
Mary, for if I deceive thy sight, or delude thy hear-
ing, I can as easily beguile thy hand, and frustrate thy
feeling. If I be true in any one thing, believe me so
in all. Embrace me first in a firm faith, and then
thou shalt touch me with more worthy hands. It is
now necessary to wean thee from the comfort of my
external presence, that thou mayest learn to lodge in
me the secrets of my heart, and teach thy thoughts to
supply the offices of the outward senses : for in this
visible shape I am not long to be seen here, being
shortly to ascend unto my Father, But what thine
eye then seeth not, thy heart shall feel, and my silent
parley will find audience in thy inward ear. Yet if
thou fearest lest my ascending should be so sudden,
that if thou dost not now take leave of my feet with
thy humble kisses and loving tears, thou shalt never
find the like opportunity again ; expel from thee that
needless suspicion. I am not yet ascended unto my
Father, and for all such duties there will be a more
convenient time. But now, go about that which re-
quireth more haste, and run to my brethren, and in-
form them what I say. That I will go before them into
Galilee ; there shall they see me."
Mary, therefore, preferring her Lord's will before
her own wish, yet sorry that her will was unworthy of
no better event, departed from him like a hungry in-
fant forced from a full breast, or a thirsty hart chased
from a sweet fountain. She judged herself but an
unlucky messenger, though of most joyful tidings,
being banished from her Master's presence, to carry
news of his resurrection. Alas ! said she, and cannot
others be happy, without my unhappiness ? or cannot
their advantage be gained but through my loss ?—
Must the dawning of their day be the close of mine,
and my soul be robbed of such a treasure, in order to
enrich them ? Oh, my heart ! return thou to enjoy
him. Why goest thou with me, that am forced to go
from him ? In me, thou art but in prison ; in him,
is thy only paradise. I have buried thee long enough
in former sorrows, and yet now when thou wert half
revived, I am constrained to carry thee from the
spring of life. Alas ! go seek to better thy life in some
more happy breast, since I, ill deserving creature ! am
nothing different from what I was, but in having
taken a taste of the highest delight, that the know-
ledge and want of it might drown me in the deepest
misery.
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