Chapter 12
A for he craves not only to see them, but longs to behold their very countenances. "We have," he says, "the more abundantly hastened to see your face." Do you then crave to see the sight, and burn with a longing to behold these countenances? "Indeed I do," he says; because there are the instruments of the senses collected. For the soul, if it be naked and by itself joined to another soul, will be unable either to say or to hear anything; but if it be my lot to enjoy the bodily presence, I shall be able to speak something, and in turn to hear from those I love. For this reason I desire to look upon your face, in which is the tongue that emits the voice and utters the thoughts of the mind, and the ear that receives the words, and the eyes that portray the motions of the mind; for it is possible to enjoy the intercourse of a beloved soul much better through these.
B And that you may learn how he is kindled toward this contemplation, having said, "We have the more abundantly hastened," he was not content with that expression, but added, "In great desire." And immediately, not enduring to mingle himself with the others, but showing that he loves more ardently than the rest, after he had said these words, "We have the more abundantly hastened and have desired to come to you," he separated himself from the others, and stationing himself alone said, "I, Paul, once and again"—showing by this, of course, that he had labored in this with more intense zeal than the others. Then, because he did not achieve this, he is not content with the letters, but sends his companion, Timothy, who was to be in his stead for the letters; wherefore he added, "Wherefore when we could no longer forbear," that love which could not be curbed or tolerated by any rein, [showing]! And just as when someone is burning with the heat of a fire, and seeking to find some relief from the conflagration, he leaves no stone unturned; in the same way he, too, when he was being kindled, choked, and burnt, devised consolation as far as was possible and practicable. "For when we could no longer forbear," he says, "we sent Timothy, the minister of the gospel, and our fellow-laborer," and tearing a most necessary member from our company C and exchanging sorrow for sorrow. For that he could not easily bear even his absence, but that he undertook this trouble for their sake, he signified this very thing by saying, "We thought it good to be left alone." O soul transformed into the very substance of love! For after he was separated from one brother, he says he is alone, and that while he had so many others with him.
— The reward of patience. Do you, therefore, also meditate on these things with yourself continually, and consider that by how much the more this matter brings you greater torment, by so much the more, if you bear it with a grateful mind, will it bring you a greater reward. For not only the bodily wounds inflicted, but also the pain of the soul brings crowns sublimer than any speech, and indeed [the pain] of the soul [brings] more than [that of] the body, when those who are smitten bear it with thanksgiving. As therefore, if your body were lacerated and torn with scourges, you would bear it with a brave and noble mind, and would proclaim the glory of God in this regard, and would have received a great reward for this; in the same way, when your soul suffers these things, wait for great rewards D from this. Expect also that it will surely come to pass that you will see us again, and be delivered from this pain, and receive a large and abundant gain from this pain, both hereafter and now. And these things are sufficient for the lightening of sorrow for you; nay, truly, not for you alone, but even for anyone, however else he might be endowed with a senseless and stony mind. But where there is such prudence, and such riches of piety, and such sublime philosophy, and a soul trampling underfoot the pomp of the things of this life, there also the art of curing the malady is easier. Wherefore in this matter also show your love toward us, because we, even while writing, possess great authority with you, and no less than if we were present. But you will show this clearly if we learn that our letters have profited something, and not only something, but as much as we desire. For we desire you to be engaged in the same gladness of mind in which we beheld you when we were there. And if we learn this, we too shall receive no small consolation for this loneliness in which we now are. Therefore, if it is in your heart to settle us in greater peace of mind—and I know that you wish it and are greatly concerned about it—let us know this, that you have removed all the dregs of sorrow from yourself, and that your affairs are in a tranquil state: and repay to us this reward of our benevolence toward you. For it does not escape you, I say, it certainly does not escape you, how much, if you perform this and inform us of it by letter, you will be about to refresh our soul.
To the same letter III
A those who struggle with severe fevers, or the sea with fierce winds, do not suddenly cast off the storm that the waves have brought, but [settle] gently and little by little. For bodies need a longer space of time, that after the fevers are dispelled they may return to perfect health, and may wash away the weakness which the disease left behind; and the waters, even when the winds have been lulled, are still for a time agitated and stirred up, and are carried and recede with great impetuosity, and need some time to return to perfect tranquility. I have used this kind of introduction [as an example] not idly, but that you may understand that we were driven by necessity to send this letter to you. For even if we have removed the tyranny of sorrow in our previous letters, and have overturned its citadel: yet our speech still needs great assiduity to procure for you a deep peace, and, having blotted out the memory of all the disturbances which flowed from that anguish, to show you a pure and certain tranquility, and to place you in great alacrity of mind. For I am doing this now, and I am laboring that I may not only deliver you from sadness, but also fill you with great and perpetual pleasure. For this can be done, if indeed you are willing. For it is not among the fixed things of nature that we…