My dove, says the Bridegroom, my pure, chaste and harmless dove, who art ensconced in thyself as in the hollow of a wall, and who art there hidden in my wounds, which are the clefts of the living rock, show me thy countenance. But why sayest Thou so, O Bridegroom? is not Thy beloved wholly turned towards Thee? Why then dost Thou beg for a sight of her countenance? She is, as it were, wholly hidden in Thee, and dost Thou not behold her? Thou wouldst hear her voice, and she is dumb for every other but Thee!
O admirable invention of Divine Wisdom! the poor soul, thinking that to correspond to her Bridegroom she must continue, as formerly, to recollect herself, and sink still deeper within, endeavors to do so with all her strength; but the contrary is what is required. He here calls her without, and desires that she should leave herself, and for this reason He says, show me thy countenance, let thy voice sound in Mine ears without; turn towards Me, for I have moved My place. He assures her that her voice is sweet, calm and tranquil; that in that respect she is like her beloved, whose voice is not one that is heard by reason of loud speaking; thy countenance, He adds, is comely; the superior part of thy soul is already fair and has all the advantages of beauty; there is but one thing wanting; come forth!
If He did not thus sweetly and forcibly draw the soul without, she would never leave herself. It would seem that she now finds herself drawn outward with as much force as she formerly felt herself recollected and impelled inward, and even with greater; for it requires much more power to draw the soul out of self than to sink it within. The sweetness she experiences in her savory recollection, is a sufficient inducement, but to leave this enjoyment within, to find nothing but bitterness without, is a very difficult matter. Besides, by recollection she lives and possesses herself; but by issuing forth from self, she perishes and dies.