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While Heaven's air blows sweet, warm, and gentle felt in my soul as I breathe in and out, with His unseen key God opens the door to the heart's secret recesses, to where the self retreats. But this awakening of hope, this relief arouses no fear: this fire consumes ice, darkness, doubt, yet we do not will this overthrow, indeed mortal flesh feels the weight of this presence as too much. Still here is safety, quiet, peace, for a moment, a taste of what's to come forever. It's not how much pleasure grace gives to the soul, but how deeply she yields to the burning light controlling her. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V CXXVI:286. See also B S1:153:161. No MSs; Valgrisi 154. Key |
