CHAPTER XXI. How We Should Learn to Die, And of The Nature of An Unprovided Death
The Servant.--Eternal Wisdom! if any
one were to give me the whole earth for my own, it would not be so agreeable to
me as the truth and the advantage which I have found in Thy sweet doctrines.
Therefore, do I desire from the very bottom of my heart that Thou, the Eternal
Wisdom, wouldst teach me still more. Lord, what is that which belongs, above
all things, to a servant of Eternal Wisdom, who is desirous to live for Thee
alone? Lord, I should like to hear about the union of pure reason with the Holy
Trinity, when, in the true reflection of the eternal birth of the Word, and in
the regeneration of her own Spirit, reason is ravished from herself and stands
face to face with God.
Eternal Wisdom.--Let not him ask about
what is highest in doctrine, who still stands on what is lowest in a good life.
I will teach thee what will profit thee more.
The Servant.--Lord, what wilt Thou teach
me?
Eternal Wisdom.--I will teach thee to die
and will teach thee to live. I will teach thee to receive Me lovingly, and will
teach thee to praise Me lovingly. Behold, this is what properly belongs to
thee.
The Servant.--Eternal Wisdom, if I had the
power to fulfill my wishes, I know not whether, in this temporal state, I ought
to wish anything else, as to doctrine, than how to die to myself and all the
world, how to live wholly for Thee, to cherish Thy love with all my heart, to
receive Thee lovingly, and to praise Thee lovingly. O God, how blessed is that
man who is able to do this, and who consumes in it his whole life. But, Lord,
dost Thou mean a spiritual dying or a bodily dying?
Eternal Wisdom.--I mean both one and the
other.
The Servant.--What need have I, Lord, of
being taught to die bodily? Surely it teaches itself when it comes.
Eternal Wisdom.--He who puts his teaching
off till then, will find it too late.
The Servant.--O Lord, it is still somewhat
bitter for me to hear about death.
Eternal Wisdom.--Behold, even this is the
source of those unprovided and terrible deaths whereof the towns and convents
now are full. Behold, death has often bridled thee secretly, and had fain
ridden thee from hence, in the same way as he does the countless multitude, one
of whom I will now show thee. Open, therefore, thy interior sense, and see and
listen; see what grim death is like in the person of thy neighbour, do but mark
the lamentable voice thou wilt hear.
The Servant heard with his understanding
the voice of an unprepared dying man cry aloud and speak as follows: The
sorrows of death have surrounded me.[11] Woe is me, Thou God of Heaven, that ever I was
born into the world. The beginning of my life was with crying and weeping, and
now my departure from it is also with bitter crying and weeping. Alas, the
sorrows of death have surrounded me, the pains of hell have encompassed me! O
death, O furious death, what an unwelcome guest thou art to my young and joyous
heart! How little was I prepared for thy coming! Thou hast attacked me from
behind, thou hast run me down. Thou leadest me away in thy chains like one that
leads a condemned man bound and fettered to the place where he is to be slain.
I clasp my hands above my head, I wring them with anguish in each other, for
gladly would I escape from him. I look around me into all the ends of the earth
to see if any one will give me advice or help, and it cannot be. Death I hear
thus fatally speaking within me: Neither learning, nor money, nor friends can
avail thee; thou art mine by right. Alas, and must it be so? O God, and must I
then depart from hence? Is a last separation really at hand? Woe is me that
ever I was born! O death, what art thou going to do with me?
The Servant.--Dear man, why dost thou take
it so hard? This is the common lot of rich and poor, young and old. Many more
have died in their youth than in their old age. Or wouldst thou, perhaps, alone
escape death? This would prove a great want of understanding in thee.
The unprepared dying man.--O Lord, what
bitter consolation is this! I am not without understanding. Those are without
understanding who have not lived for Him, and who are not frightened at death.
Such persons are blind; they die like cattle; they know not what they have
before them. I do not complain that I must die; I complain that I must die
unprepared. I do not merely lament the end of my life, I lament and weep over
the delightful days which are so utterly lost and vanished without any profit.
For truly I am like an untimely and rejected abortion, like a blossom torn off
in May. My days have sped swifter than an arrow from the bow. I am forgotten as
though I had never been, like a track which a bird makes through the air, which
closes behind it and is unknown to all men. Therefore are my words so full of
bitterness, therefore is my speech so full of woe! Oh, who will enable me to be
as I once was, to have again those pleasant times before me, and to know then
what I know now! When those times were mine I did not rightly estimate them; I,
foolish man, let them pass swiftly away; now are they vanished from me; I
cannot recall them, I cannot overtake them. No hour so short but I ought to
have valued it more preciously and thankfully than a poor man about to receive
a kingdom as a gift. Lo, this is why my eyes shed salt tears, because they
cannot restore what I have lost. Woe is me, O God; that I should have feasted
so many day away, and that it profits me now so little. Why did not I learn to
die all the time? O ye blooming roses, that have still your days before you,
look at me and learn wisdom; turn your youth to God, and with Him alone occupy
your time, so that what has happened to me may not happen to you. Ah, me! how
have I consumed my youth! No one would I believe; my wayward spirit would
listen to no one. Alas, now am I fallen into the snare of bitter death! My days
have vanished, my youth has sped. Better were it for me had my mother's womb
become my grave than that I should so have squandered away my time.
The Servant.--Be converted to God; repent
of thy sins; if thy end be well, then will all be well.
Unprepared dying man.--Alas, what do I
hear? How shall I do penance? Seest thou not how terrified I am, how exceeding
great is my distress? Even as a little bird caught in the claws of a cruel
falcon, and become senseless in the agony of dying, I am unconscious of
everything except that I would gladly escape and cannot. Death and the
bitterness of separation oppress me. Alas, the repentance and free conversion
of him who is capable of right doing, what a sure thing you are! He who puts
you off will hardly fail of being himself put off. O long protraction of my
amendment, how much too protracted hast thou not proved! My good intentions
without works, my good promises without performance, have ruined me. I have
said to God, Tomorrow and tomorrow, till I am fallen into the night of death. O
Thou Almighty God, is it not a misery above all miseries, ought it not deeply
to afflict me, that I should thus have lost the whole of my life, my thirty, my
forty years? I know not that I ever spent a day wholly according to God's will,
or that I ever rendered to God, as in reason I ought to have done, a truly
acceptable service. Oh, how the thought cuts me to the heart! O God, how
wretchedly shall I not stand before Thee and the whole heavenly host! Lo, now I
am departing hence; and now, even at this hour, a single Pater Noster, uttered
with devotion, would rejoice me more than if anyone were to put into my hands a
thousand pounds of gold. Ah, my God, what have I not eternally neglected, what
evil have I not inflicted on myself in not having seen this while it was in my
power! What hours upon hours have escaped me! How have I allowed myself to be
led wrong by small things in the great affair of my salvation! It would now be
more agreeable to me, and would procure me more eternal reward if, from divine
love, I had foregone the pleasure I took at the sight of a friend, when such
pleasure was contrary to God's will, than if that friend were to demand a
reward for me from God thirty years long on his knees. Hear, hear, all men, a
lamentable thing: I go begging round and round, because my time is short, and
beg a small alms out of the merits of good people as an expiation for myself,
and it is refused me; for they are all afraid lest they should want oil in
their lamps. Alas, Thou God of Heaven, let this move Thy compassion, that with
my healthy body I could have earned such great reward and wealth on so many a
day when I went about idle, and that now this small alms, begged only as an
expiation, not as a reward, for which, moreover, I should stand indebted, no
one will give me. Oh, let this, ye old and young, go to your hearts, and hoard
up in the good season while ye can, so that ye may not become beggars, and be
denied in an hour like this.
The Servant.--Alas, my dear friend, thy
distress rends my very heart. By the living God, I conjure thee, give me some
advice so that I may not come into trouble.
The unprepared dying man.--The best advice
I can give thee, the greatest wisdom and prudence on earth, is this: That thou
prepare thyself by a full confession of and an abstinence from all those things
with which thou knowest thyself to be infected, and that thou hold thyself at
all times ready, as though thou shouldst have to depart hence in a day, or at
latest in a week. Imagine now, in thy heart, that thy soul is in Purgatory, and
doomed to remain there ten years for her evil deeds, and that this year alone
is granted thee to help her in. Look at her very often, see how woefully she
calls out to thee and speaks to thee: O thou my best beloved friend, reach me
thy hand, have pity on me, and help me to pray that I may speedily come out of
this raging fire of Purgatory, for I am so miserable, that there is nobody,
except thee alone, to help me ;with charitable works. I am forgotten by all the
world, because every one is busy about himself.
The Servant.--This were a choice doctrine
for whoever might actually feel it like Thee in their hearts. But though Thy
words are so piercing, yet do people sit here and give little heed to them;
they have ears and hear not; they have eyes and see not; no one will really die
before his soul departs out of him.
The unprepared dying man.--Wherefore, when
at last they are caught on the hook of death, and cry aloud in woeful distress
and cruel pain, they are not heard. Lo, even as among a hundred persons who
wear the appearance of holiness (of others I will say nothing), not one pays
attention to my words, that he may be converted and reform his life, so is it
come to that pass that among a hundred, not one but falls into the snare of
death unprepared; as also certainly happens to those who die suddenly, or in an
unconscious state; for the comforts of the body, perishable love, and the
greedy pursuits of sustenance, blind the multitude. But if thou wouldst be
delivered from this miserable and unprovided death, then follow my advice.
Behold, diligent meditation on death, and faithful assistance given to thy poor
soul, who appeals so piteously to Thee, will advance thee so far that thou wilt
not only be without fear, but more, thou wilt expect death with all the ardour
of thy heart. Think of me every day, and write down my words in the bottom of
thy heart. In my bitter distress see what thy future lot will be; look what a
night this is. Oh, happy the man, that ever he was born, who arrives well
prepared at this hour, for his passage will be a good one, however bitter his
death; behold the bright angels will guard him, the saints escort him, the
celestial court receive him; his final marching forth will be a glorious entry
into his everlasting fatherland. But me, alas! where will my soul lodge this
very night in that strange, mysterious country? Oh, my soul, how art thou
utterly forsaken! O God, how very miserable she will be among all miserable
souls! Who is there that will help her with entire fidelity? And now let me put
an end to my sad complaints; for my hour is come. I see now that it cannot be
otherwise. My hands begin to grow cold, my face to turn livid, my eyes to lose
their sight. Alas, the shocks of furious death wrestle with my poor heart. I
begin to fetch my breath very hard. The light of this world begins to vanish
from me. I begin to see into the next world. O God, my God, what a sight! The
horrible forms of black Moors assemble together; the wild beasts of hell
surround me. They gloat over my poor soul to see if it will be theirs. O Thou
just judge of the severe judgment seat, how very heavy in Thy scales are those
things which in ours are so light! The cold sweat of death bursts, from very
anxiety, through my flesh. Oh, the wrathful aspect of the severe judge, how
very sharp Thy judgments are! Now let me turn in spirit to that world where I
am led by the hand into Purgatory, and where, in the land of torments, I see
anguish and distress. O God, I see the wild, hot flames dart up on high, and
meet over the heads of suffering souls. They wander up and down amid the dark
flames, and great is their affliction. What heart would like to contemplate our
pangs, the bitterness of our woe? Many a sad cry is heard. Help! help! ah,
where is all the help of our false friends? Where are the fair promises of our
false friends? How have they deserted us, how have they utterly forgotten us?
Oh, have pity on us, some little pity; at least you our best beloved friends!
What services have we not rendered you, and how are we now repaid. Oh that we
should not have warded off these sufferings when we could have done so with
things so trifling! Is not the least torment here greater, much greater,
indeed, than any torment ever was on earth? One hour in Purgatory lasts a
hundred years. Lo! now we boil, now we burn, now we shriek aloud for help; but,
more than all it is our misfortune to be deprived so long of the joy of His
countenance; this it is that cuts through the heart, the sense, the soul!--And
thus I expire.
The Servant.--O Eternal Wisdom, how hast
Thou forsaken me! O God, how has death all at once become present before me!
Alas, thou soul of mine, art thou still in my body? Lord of Heaven, do I still
live? Ah, Lord, now will I praise Thee, and vow reformation to Thee till death.
Oh, how very terrified I am! I did not think death was so near me. Truly, Lord,
this sight shall not fail to profit me; every day I will be on the watch for
death, and will look about me that he take me not by surprise. I will learn how
to die; I will turn my thoughts to yonder world. Lord, I see that there is no
remaining here; Lord, in sooth, I will not save up my sorrow and repentance
till death. Oh, how terrified I am at this spectacle, I marvel that my soul is
still in my body! Begone, begone, from me, soft reclining, long sleeping, good
eating and drinking, perishable honours, delicateness and luxury! If but a
little suffering here is so painful to me, how shall I ever endure immeasurable
agony? O God, it indeed I were now to die thus, how would it be with me? What a
load have I not still upon me! Lord, this very day I will set a poor man[12] to pray for my poor soul, and since all her
friends have forsaken her I will befriend her.
Eternal Wisdom.--See; this shouldst thou
diligently look to whilst thou art in thy youth, and whilst thou hast still
time to make things better. But when, in truth, thou hast reached this hour,
and thou canst not make things better, then shouldst thou look at nothing on
earth, except My death and My infinite mercy; so that Thy trust may repose
wholly in Me.
The Servant.-- O Lord, I prostrate myself
at Thy feet, and I beseech Thee with bitter tears to chastise me here as Thou
wilt, only keep it not in store for me in the next world. Woe is me, Lord, the
fire of Purgatory and its unspeakable torments, how could I ever be so foolish
as to think lightly of them, and how do I now stand in such great fear of
them!
Eternal Wisdom.--Be of good heart, this
thy fear is the beginning of wisdom, and a path to salvation. Or hast thou
forgotten how all the Scriptures declare what great salvation is contained in
the fear and diligent contemplation of death? Thou shouldst always praise God,
for not to one in a thousand has it been granted to know Him, as to thee.
Listen to a lamentable thing: they hear it spoken of; they know of it
beforehand, and yet they allow it to pass by, and heed it not till they be
swallowed up by it, and then they howl and weep when it is too late. Open thy
eyes, count upon thy fingers, see how many of them have died around thee in thy
own times; talk with them a little in thy heart; join thy old man to them as
though it were dead; question them together; see with what fathomless sighs,
with what bitter tears they will say: Oh, blessed is he that ever he was born,
who follows sweet counsel and, in the misfortunes of others, learns wisdom!
Prepare thyself well for thy departure hence; for truly thou sittest as a bird
on the bough, and art as a man who stands on the water's edge, and looks at the
swift sailing ship in which he will presently take his seat, and sail away for
a strange land whence he will never more return. Therefore, so regulate thy
life that when the ship comes for thee thou mayest be ready, and mayest
joyfully take thy departure hence.
[11] Psalm xvii. 5
[12] According to a practice of the middle ages.