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← Pseudo-Augustine Soliloquia animae ad Deum (Meditations of the Soul to God)/Book 1 · Soliloquia animae ad Deum
Chapter 2PsAug.1.2

Dei ad hominem variae habitudines.

The Great Divide Between Creator and Creature

The soul laments the vast opposition between God's eternal, spiritual, and pure nature and its own earthly, transient, and corrupt condition.

This too is why, Lord, I don't rejoice in you and don't hold fast to you: because I am in outward things, you in inward things; I in bodily things, you in spiritual things; in transient things I am poured out in my mind, tossed about in thought, tangled in talk, and you, Lord, dwell in eternal things — eternity itself. You are in heaven, I on earth; you love lofty things, I love the lowest; you love heavenly things, I love earthly things. And when will these opposites ever come together? Wretched me! When will my crookedness ever be made straight alongside your uprightness? You, Lord, love solitude, I love the crowd; you love silence, I love shouting; you love truth, I love vanity; you love purity, I chase after impurity. What more, Lord? You are truly good, I am bad; you are devout, I am impious; you are holy, I am wretched; you are just, I am unjust; you are light, I am blind; you are life, I am dead; you are medicine, I am sick; you are joy, I am sorrow; you are highest truth, I am utter vanity — so that every living person… (Psalm✦

Scripture Interlude: The Wounds of the Soul

A brief citation of Psalm 38:6 anchors the soul's confession in the language of Scripture.

Psalm 38:6.✦

The Creature Cries Out to Its Maker

Addressing God as Creator, the soul pleads for renewal, appealing to the wounds of Christ's hands and the divine inscription of the creature in God's palms.

Alas! What then shall I say, O Creator? Hear, O Creator. I am your creature — now I have perished; I am your creature — now I am dying; I am your handiwork — now I am being reduced to nothing. I am your handiwork: your hands, Lord, made me; and they formed me (Ps.1 CXVIII, 73); the hands, I say, that were pierced with nails for me — the work of your hands, Lord, do not despise; the wounds of your hands, I pray, do look upon.2 See, in your hands you have written me; read that very writing, and save me.✦3 See, I sigh to you — your creature; you are the Creator — renew me.

Sick, Blind, Dead: The Soul's Threefold Cry

The soul presents itself as sick, blind, and dead, crying out to Christ as physician, light, and life, while marveling that a creature dare address its Maker.

Look, I cry out to you — I am your handiwork; you are life itself, restore me. Look, I turn to you — I am your creation; you are the Creator, renew me. Spare me, Lord — for my days are nothing (Job 7:16).✦ What is man, that he can speak to God, his Maker?✦ Spare me as I speak to you — forgive your servant who presumes to address the Lord. Necessity knows no law. Grief drives me to speak, and the suffering I endure compels me to cry out. I am sick, so I cry out to the physician; I am blind, so I hasten toward the light; I am dead, so I sigh for life.✦

Jesus, Fountain of Mercy

The soul invokes Jesus of Nazareth and Son of David, begging the passing Light to wait for the blind and the Living Life to call back the dead.

You are the physician, you the light, you the life. Jesus of Nazareth, have mercy on me; Son of David, have mercy on me (Matt.✦ XX, 30): fountain of mercy, hear the one who cries out to you in weakness.✦ Light that passes by, wait for the blind one: offer your hand, so that he may come to you, and in your light may see the light (Ps.✦ XXXV, 10).✦ Living life, call back the dead one.

What Am I? The Abyss of Human Misery

Repeatedly asking 'What am I?', the soul confesses its worthlessness as a rotting corpse, a son of wrath, conceived in uncleanness and destined for anguish.

What am I, that I should speak with you? Woe is me, Lord, spare me: I am a rotting corpse, food for worms, a stinking vessel, fuel for fires. What am I, that I should speak with you? Woe is me, Lord, spare me: unhappy man that I am — a man, I say, born of woman, living but a short time, filled with many miseries (Job 14:1); a man, I say, made like unto vanity (Ps.✦✦ 143:4), compared to foolish beasts, and now become like them (Ps. 48:13).✦4 What am I, once again? A dark abyss, a land of misery, a son of wrath, a vessel fit for disgrace, conceived in uncleanness, living in wretchedness, soon to die in anguish.✦ Alas, wretched — what am I?

A Shadow, a Flower, a Snare: The Frailty of Life

The soul reflects on the instability of human life—now rejoicing, now weeping, always changing—and on the countless bodily afflictions that beset mortal existence.

Alas — what am I going to become? And what am I now? A vessel from the dung heap, a shell of rot, filled with stench and horror — blind, poor, naked, subject to countless needs, ignorant of my beginning and my end. Wretched and mortal, whose days pass like a shadow, whose life fades like a shadow in moonlight — like a flower on a tree it grows, and immediately withers; now it blooms, and immediately dries up (Psalm 101:12). Psalm 101:12. My life — I say it plainly — a fragile life, a falling life: the more it grows, the more it dwindles; the more it moves forward, the closer it draws to death — a deceptive, shadowy life, full of the snares of death. Now I rejoice, and immediately I'm saddened; now I flourish, and already I grow weak; now I'm alive, and immediately I die; now I seem happy, and always I'm wretched; now I laugh, and immediately I weep — so that everything is subject to change, and I can barely stay in a single state for one hour. From this comes fear, from this trembling, from this hunger, from this thirst, from this burning heat, from this cold, from this weariness — and from that direction, pain overflows.

Death's Thousand Ways and the Soul's Final Appeal

After surveying the countless forms of death that snatch away wretched men, the soul confesses its own failure to grieve and cries out to God as its strength, light, and glory, begging simply to live.

After all this comes unwelcome death, which every day snatches away wretched men in a thousand ways. This one is overwhelmed by fevers, that one consumed by pain; hunger devours this one, thirst extinguishes that one; another is suffocated by water, this one killed by a noose, that one destroyed by flames, another torn apart by the teeth of savage beasts, this one slaughtered by the sword, that one poisoned — and another driven by sheer sudden terror to end a wretched life. And beyond all this, the great misery is that although nothing is more certain than death, man does not know his own end; and when he thinks he is standing firm, he is swept away, and his hope perishes. For man does not know when or where or how he will die — and yet he is certain that he must die. See, Lord, what great misery man is in — the misery I share — and I do not fear; what great calamity I suffer, and I do not grieve, and I do not cry out to you. I will cry out, Lord, before I pass away — if perhaps I will not pass away, but will remain in you. I will speak, then — I will speak my misery; I will confess, and I will not be ashamed before you, my wretchedness. Help me, my strength, through which I am lifted up; come to my aid, my power, through which I am sustained; come, light, through which I see; appear, glory, through which I rejoice. Appear, I say, and let me live.

Read the original Latin

Hinc etiam est, Domine, quod in te non gaudeo, et tibi non adhaereo: quia ego in exterioribus, tu in interioribus; ego in carnalibus, tu in spiritualibus; ego in transitoriis animo diffundor, cogitatione versor, locutione implicor, et tu, Domine, in aeternis habitas aeternitatem. Tu in coelo, ego in terra; tu diligis alta, ego infima; tu coelestia, ego terrestria. Et quando poterunt haec contraria convenire? Miser ego! quando poterit obliquitas mea tuae rectitudini adaequari? Tu, Domine, diligis solitudinem, ego multitudinem; tu silentium, ego clamorem; tu veritatem, ego vanitatem; tu munditiam, ego immunditiam sequor. Quid plura, Domine? Tu vere bonus, ego malus; tu pius, ego impius; tu sanctus, ego miser; tu justus, ego injustus; tu lux, ego caecus; tu vita, ego mortuus; tu medicina, ego aeger; tu gaudium, ego tristitia; tu summa veritas, ego universa vanitas, ut omnis homo vivens (Psal.

XXXVIII, 6).

Heu! Quid igitur, o Creator, dicam? Audi, o Creator. Creatura tua sum, jam perii; creatura tua sum, jam morior; factura tua sum, jam ad nihilum redigor. Plasma tuum sum: manus tuae, Domine, fecerunt me; et plasmaverunt me (Psal. CXVIII, 73); manus, inquam, illae quae clavis affixae sunt pro me; opus manuum tuarum, Domine, ne despicias; vulnera manuum tuarum precor ut aspicias. Ecce in manibus tuis descripsisti me; lege ipsam scripturam, et salva me. En ad te suspiro creatura tua; Creator es, recrea me.

En ad te clamo factura tua; vita es, refice me. En ad te respicio tuum plasma; plasmator es, restaura me. Parce mihi, Domine, nihil enim sunt dies mei (Job VII, 16). Quid est homo, ut possit alloqui Deum factorem suum? Parce mihi colloquenti tibi, ignosce servo qui praesumit loqui Domino. Legem non habet necessitas. Dolor me compellit dicere, et calamitas quam patior, cogit me exclamare. Aegrotus sum, ad medicum clamo; caecus sum, ad lucem propero; mortuus sum, ad vitam suspiro.

Tu es medicus, tu lux, tu vita. Jesu Nazarene, miserere mei; fili David, miserere mei (Matth. XX, 30): fons misericordiae, audi qui ad te clamat infirmum. Lux quae transis, exspecta caecum: praebe manum, ut ad te veniat, et in lumine tuo lumen videat (Psal. XXXV, 10). Vita vivens, revoca mortuum.

Quid sum ego, qui loquor tecum? Vae mihi, Domine, parce mihi: ego cadaver putridum, esca vermium, vas fetidum, cibus ignium. Quid sum ego qui loquor tecum? Vae mihi, Domine, parce mihi: infelix ego homo; homo, inquam, natus de muliere, brevi vivens tempore, repletus multis miseriis (Job XIV, 1); homo, inquam, vanitati similis factus (Psal. CXLIII, 4), comparatus jumentis insipientibus, et jam similis illis factus (Psal XLVIII, 13). Quid iterum ego? Abyssus tenebrosa, terra miseriae, filius irae, vas aptum ad contumeliam, genitus per immunditiam, vivens in miseria, moriturus in angustia. Heu miser quid sum?

heu quid futurus sum? Et quid sum? Vas sterquilinii, concha putredinis, plenus fetore et horrore: caecus, pauper, nudus, plurimis necessitatibus subditus, ignorans introitum et exitum meum. Miser et mortalis, cujus dies sicut umbra praetereunt, cujus vita sicut umbra lunaria evanescit; sicut flos in arbore crescit, et statim marcescit; nunc floret, et statim aret (Psal. CI, 12). Vita, inquam, mea, vita fragilis, vita caduca, vita quae quanto magis crescit, tanto magis decrescit; quanto magis procedit, tanto magis ad mortem accedit: vita fallax et umbratica, plena laqueis mortis. Nunc gaudeo, statim contristor; nunc vigeo, jam infirmor; nunc vivo, statim morior; nunc felix appareo, et semper miser; nunc rideo, et statim fleo: sicque omnia mutabilitati subjacent, ut mihi vix una hora in uno statu permaneat. Hinc timor, hinc tremor, hinc fames, hinc sitis, hinc calor, hinc frigus, hinc languor, inde dolor exuberat.

Subsequitur his importuna mors, quae mille modis quotidie miseros homines rapit. Hunc namque febribus, illum doloribus opprimit; hunc consumit fames, illum sitis exstinguit: illum vero suffocat aquis, hunc interimit laqueo, illum perimit flammis, alium dentibus bestiarum ferocium vorat, hunc trucidat ferro, illum veneno corrumpit, alterum tantum repentino terrore miseram vitam finire compellit. Et nunc super haec omnia magna miseria, quia cum nihil sit certius morte, ignorat tamen homo finem suum; et cum stare putat, tollitur et perit spes ejus. Nescit enim homo quando vel ubi vel quomodo morietur: et tamen certus est quod eum mori oportet. Ecce, Domine, quam magna miseria hominis in qua sum, nec timeo; quam grandis calamitas quam patior, nec doleo, et ad te non clamo. Clamabo, Domine, antequam transeam: si forte non transeam, sed in te maneam. Dicam ergo, dicam miseriam meam: confitear, nec erubescam ante te, vilitatem meam. Adjuva me, fortitudo mea per quam sublevor; succurre, virtus per quam sustentor; veni, lux per quam video; appare, gloria per quam gaudeo.

Appare, inquam, et vivam.

Scripture echoes

  1. ↩Ps.39.5-Ps.39.6;Ps.90.3 — Make known to me, LORD, my end, and the measure of my days—what it is—that I may know how fleeting I am. Ps.39.6 — Surely you have made my days a mere handbreadth, and my lifetime is as nothing before you; surely every person, standing at their strongest, is only a breath. Selah. Ps.90.3 — You turn man back to dust, and say, 'Return, O children of men.'
  2. ↩Ps.38.6 — My wounds are foul and festering because of my folly.
  3. ↩Isa.49.16 — Behold, on your palms I have engraved you; your walls are continually before me.
  4. ↩Job.7.16 — I loathe my life; I will not live forever. Leave me alone, for my days are a breath.
  5. ↩Ps.8.4 — When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have set in place—
  6. ↩Matt.9.12;John.9.39-John.9.41;John.11.25 — But when he heard it, he said, "Those who are strong have no need of a physician, but those who are sick." John.9.39 — And Jesus said, "For judgment I have come into this world, so that those who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind." John.9.40 — Some of the Pharisees who were with him heard these things and said to him, 'Are we also blind?' John.9.41 — Jesus said to them, 'If you were blind, you would have no sin; but now you say, "We see," your sin remains.' John.11.25 — Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me, even if he dies, will live."
  7. ↩Matt.20.30-Matt.20.31 — And behold, two blind men sitting beside the road, hearing that Jesus was passing by, cried out, saying, 'Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!' Matt.20.31 — But the crowd rebuked them, that they should be silent; but they cried out the more, saying, "Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!"
  8. ↩Matt.20.30 — And behold, two blind men sitting beside the road, hearing that Jesus was passing by, cried out, saying, 'Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!'
  9. ↩Ps.36.9 — They drink their fill of the abundance of your house, and from your river of delights you give them drink.
  10. ↩Ps.35.10 — All my bones shall say, 'LORD, who is like You, delivering the poor from the one too strong for him—the poor and the needy from the one who robs him?'
  11. ↩Job.14.1 — Man, born of woman, is short of days and full of turmoil.
  12. ↩Ps.143.4 — So my spirit grows faint within me; my heart within me is appalled.
  13. ↩Ps.48.13 — Walk around Zion, go around her, count her towers.
  14. ↩Eph.2.3 — Among them we too all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the flesh and the thoughts, and we were by nature children of wrath, just like the rest.

Notes

  1. 1 ↩Psalm reference cut off in source; likely Psalm 118:73 (Vulgate). Final resolution deferred to tx-08 Moses stage.
  2. 2 ↩The speaker identifies the Creator's hands with the crucified hands of Christ — a Christological reading of the Psalm. 'Ne despicias' is a negative purpose clause ('lest you look down upon'), rendered as a direct negative imperative for natural English flow.
  3. 3 ↩The metaphor of being 'written in God's hands' likely alludes to Isaiah 49:16 ('Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands'), though the explicit citation here is to the Psalm. The 'writing' may refer to the wounds of Christ as inscription.
  4. 4 ↩This sentence continues the truncated citation from the previous sentence. The connective 'et' links the two scriptural comparisons.

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