From the INTRODUCTION.
The Minor Writings of St. Teresa, - Minor because they occupy but little space in print, although as a revelation of the beauty and grandeur of her soul they equal the Life and the Interior Castle, - comprise the Poems, the Conceptions of the Love of God, the Exclamations and certain Maxims. While the Exclamations and the Maxims are fairly well known to English readers, the Poems and the Conceptions will probably come as a surprise to many of them. It is necessary to say a few words by way of Introduction.
POEMS.
I know one, says the Saint in her Life, evidently speaking of herself, who, though she was not a poet, yet composed, without any preparation, certain stanzas, full of feeling, most expressive of her pain: they were not the work of her own understanding; but in order to have a greater fruition of that bliss which so sweet a pain occasioned her, she complained of it in that way to God. This was when she had reached what she describes as the third water or the third state of prayer, which leads to spiritual inebriation. It is an overflowing of the heart which can no longer contain the abundance of bliss infused into it. Alluding to the verse of the psalmist, Cum dilatasti cor meum, - When Thou didst dilate my heart, St. Teresa considers that such graces, even of a less high order, cause, or require a widening of the heart, because they do not follow the narrow measure of poor humanity. What, then, must it be when grace comes in a mighty stream, a perfect torrent? Like a river it precipitates itself down the sheer rock into a narrow basin which cannot hold it, but casts it up again with double vehemence, though not in the form of a solid mass, but dissolved into a myriad of atoms which break up and reflect the sunlight in the delicate hues of the rainbow. Thus the vehemence of the spirit seeks an outlet, not by bursting its prison walls with elemental force, but by converting itself into sweet song. In moments of emotion the sober word is incapable of following the rush of thought. The love-stricken swain sings in verse the praises of the object of his passion. The ardent patriot rouses inert multitudes with mighty song; the prisoner in his dungeon, the sufferer on his pallet, finds solace and revives hope in accents that vibrate in countless hearts. Thus, in a higher order of things, the soul yearning for the Supreme Good bursts into verse; the prophets words become a war song; the wailing of the down- trodden, of him that is humbled by his fellow men, or all but crushed under the heavy hand of God, is turned into lyrics. More than that ! Is there not a song reserved for those who are purchased from the earth, a new canticle which no man can say but the hundred and forty-four thousand? Who could tell the song when the morning stars praised Me together, and all the sons of God made a joyful melody? Above all, is not God himself the first and the greatest of poets? For, what is the universe but one great poem? Are not the Incarnation and the work of Redemption as it were the setting to music of the Word of God?...