Christ invites all interior souls, who are the daughters of Zion, to go forth out of themselves and their imperfections to behold King Solomon with the crown of Glory Bestowed upon Him by God Himself. The Divine Nature is in the light of a mother to the human, crowns it, and is at the same time its diadem. It crowns Christ in the day of His espousals with a glory as sublime as it is infinite and unfading. But what is the Lamb's espousal day? It is the day on which He ascended up into Heaven, where He was received at the right hand of the Father, a day of eternal gladness of heart. Behold, Him, daughters of Zion! arrayed in all His divine conquests; for He desires to share them with you.

---

Footnotes:

[20] Those who have had little experience may object here, that since it is necessary after all to come forth out of self, in order to seek God in Himself, it would be a more reasonable direction to bid the beginner seek Him in that way in the first place, instead of sending him the roundabout way of first seeking Him within and then without. But this would be a great mistake; for such a one seeking God in God Himself, looks for Him as for something quite distinct and separate, and, as it were, outside of Himself; he even searches heaven for Him. In this way, instead of becoming interior and collecting all the forces of his soul, as David did, to call upon God, his strength is dissipated and wasted. As we see the slender and scattered lines of a drawing mutually approaching and strengthening each other as they near the central point, but becoming feeble and indistinct in proportion as they recede from there, so the strength of the soul, whether employed about knowing or loving, the more it is concentrated in its own centre, the greater power does it exhibit of performing its appropriate work. And as these lines, however widely separated, are united in the point of view, so the functions of the soul, diverse and distinct at a distance from the centre, once assembled there, constitute but a single undivided, though not indivisible point, and are endowed with singular power of seeking God. In order to become interior and spiritual, then, we must begin by seeking God within, by recollection, without which we can never reach the central unity. But when once arrived there, we must depart again, not by returning towards the external multiplicity, the point whence we set out, but by passing through beyond self in order to reach God. For this going forth from self is not effected by the way by which we entered into recollection, but, as it were, by a way leading through one's self and beyond, from the centre of the creature to the centre of the Creator. The centre of the soul may be regarded, in short, as a sort of halfway house or inn, by which the traveller must necessarily pass, but, in leaving which, he is not obliged to retrace his steps, but passes onward still by the high road. And as the way to the inn is longer in proportion as we were previously dissipated and removed from our centre; so the further we pass it, the further do we leave self behind, both in sight and feeling. No sooner are we arrived at our centre than we find God, and are invited, as I have said, to come forth from ourselves and pass onward, and then we very really pass into Him; for it is there that He is truly found where are no longer ourselves; the further we journey, the further we advance in Him, and the further we depart from ourselves. Then our progress in God should be measured by our separation from self; that is, as to our views, feelings, remembrances, self-interest and self-reflections. While the soul is advancing towards its centre, it is wholly absorbed in self-reflection, and the nearer it comes, the more intense is its absorption, though in more simplicity. When, however, it has arrived there, it ceases to behold itself, just as we see everything about us, but not what is in us. But in proportion as it passes away from and beyond itself, it sees less and less of itself, because its face is turned the other way, and it cannot look back. Hence those self-reflections which were useful in the beginning become exceedingly injurious at last. At first, our views must be self-directed and complex; they then become simple and incomplex, without ceasing to have a selfish direction, and then the soul is gifted with a single eye. As the traveller, approaching the inn, which is in full view, has no need of consideration, but fixes his eye steadily upon it, but having entered it, no longer beholds it; so the soul, arrived at its centre, may be said to behold itself no longer, though in fact it has a mode of perception, appropriate to its state. When, however, it has passed beyond itself, it no longer feels nor perceives itself, but the further it advances in God, the less does it discover itself, until at last wholly lost in the abyss of God, it no longer feels, knows, nor discerns anything but Him. Then it is plain that all reflections are hurtful and mortal, for they turn, the soul into the way that leads from God, and would bring it back to self. Now this passing beyond self is accomplished by means of the surrender of the will, which as sovereign of the powers carries with it the understanding and the memory, which though separate and very diverse powers, are yet one and indivisible in their centre. Now, I say, and it is clear, that this state is attended with a sort of stability, and the more it advances the firmer it grows; for it is evident that he who has passed beyond and left self, is an entirely different person in his functions from him who is yet striving to reach self and this centre; and if the former should endeavor to enter again the latter road, he would find it difficult, if not impossible. So, then, we see that they who have reached self and passed beyond, must ever put a greater distance between them and it, and they who desire to be converted must continually endeavor to recollect themselves in their centre. To compel a man who has already entered into God, to resume the way and the practices by which he reached his position, would be like endeavoring to force the food which has been digested and passed into the intestines to return by the mouth, a result which only arrives as the sequel of horrible pains and the forerunner of death. While the food remains in the stomach, however, it may be discharged by vomiting, just as we, while still continuing in self, may return upon our ways with greater or less ease, according as we are more or less advanced towards the centre; but afterward the thing is far more difficult and almost impossible--Justifications, ii. 57.