Before this, I had a certain tenderness of soul which was very abiding, partially attainable, I believe, in some measure, by our own efforts: a consolation which is not wholly in the senses, nor yet altogether in the spirit, but is all of it the gift of God. However, I think we can contribute much towards the attaining of it by considering our vileness and our ingratitude towards God–the great things He has done for us–His Passion, with its grievous pains–and His life, so full of sorrows; also, by rejoicing in the contemplation of His works, of His greatness, and of the love that He bears us. Many other considerations there are which he who really desires to make progress will often stumble on, though he may not be very much on the watch for them. If with this there be a little love, the soul is comforted, the heart is softened, and tears flow. Sometimes it seems that we do violence to ourselves and weep; at other times, our Lord seems to do so, so that we have no power to resist Him. His Majesty seems to reward this slight carefulness of ours with so grand a gift as is this consolation which He ministers to the soul of seeing itself weeping for so great a Lord. I am not surprised; for the soul has reason enough, and more than enough, for its joy. Here it comforts itself–here it rejoices.

The comparison which now presents itself seems to me to be good. These joys in prayer are like what those of heaven must be. As the vision of the saints, which is measured by their merits there, reaches no further than our Lord wills, and as the blessed see how little merit they had, every one of them is satisfied with the place assigned him: there being the very greatest difference between one joy and another in heaven, and much greater than between one spiritual joy and another on earth–which is, however, very great. And in truth, in the beginning, a soul in which God works this grace thinks that now it has scarcely anything more to desire, and counts itself abundantly rewarded for all the service it has rendered Him. And there is reason for this: for one of those tears–which, as I have just said, are almost in our own power, though without God nothing can be done–cannot, in my opinion, be purchased with all the labours of the world, because of the great gain it brings us. And what greater gain can we have than some testimony of our having pleased God? Let him, then, who shall have attained to this, give praise unto God–acknowledge himself to be one of His greatest debtors; because it seems to be His will to take him into His house, having chosen him for His kingdom, if he does not turn back.

St Teresa of Avila ‘The Way of Perfection’

In the interior of the soul a sweetness is felt so great that the soul feels clearly the nearness of its Lord. This experience is not merely one of devotion moving a person to shed many tears – which give satisfaction-either by thinking of the Passion of the Lord or of our sins. In this prayer of which I speak, that I call “quiet” because of the calm caused in all the faculties (for it seems the person has them well under control although sometimes the experience is not like this, because the soul is not so absorbed in this sweetness), it seems that the whole man interiorly and exteriorly is comforted. It’s as though there were poured into the marrow of one’s bones a sweet ointment with a powerful fragrance. If we were suddenly to enter a place where this fragrance was strong and not from one thing but from many, and we did not know what it was or where it came from except that it permeated everything, we would have some idea of this most sweet love of our God. He enters the soul and does so with wonderful sweetness. He pleases and makes it happy, and it cannot understand how or from where that blessing enters. It would not want to lose that good; it would not want to stir or speak or even look lest the blessing go away…

…………

It seems that while the soul is in this delight that was mentioned it feels itself totally engulfed and protected in this shadow and kind of cloud of the Divinity. From it come inspirations and a delightful dew which indeed rightly takes away the weariness that worldly things have caused the soul. The soul feels there a kind of repose that will even make breathing wearisome to it. And the faculties are so quiet and calm that the will would not want them to admit any thoughts, even good ones, nor does it admit any by way of inquiry or striving after them. There’s no need to move the hand or raise it – I’m referring to reflection-for anything, for the Lord gives from the apple tree (to which she compares her Beloved) the fruit already cut, cooked, and even chewed. So she says that His fruit is sweet to her taste. For in this prayer all the soul does is taste, without any work on the part of the faculties; and present in this shadow of the Divinity-well does she say “shadow,” since we cannot see It clearly here below but only under this cloud-is that brilliant Sun. This Sun sends, by means of love, the knowledge that His Majesty is indescribably close. I know that anyone who has undergone this experience will understand how truly this meaning can be given to these words spoken by the bride.

St Theresa of Avila Meditation on The Songs of Songs

Insofar as I know, my confessor, as I say–who was a truly holy father from the Society of Jesus–gave this same reply. He was very discreet and deeply humble; and this humility that was so great brought upon me many trials. For since he was a learned and very prayerful man, and the Lord didn’t lead him by this path, he didn’t trust in himself. He suffered many great trials in many ways on my account. I knew that they told him to be careful of me, that he shouldn’t let the devil deceive him by anything I told him; they brought up examples to him of other persons. All of this made me anxious. I feared that I would have no one who would hear my confession, but that all would run from me. I did nothing but weep.

By God’s providence he wanted to continue to hear my confession, for he was such a great servant of God that he would have put up with anything for God; so he advised me that I shouldn’t turn aside from what he told me or fear that he would fail me, and that I shouldn’t offend God. He always encouraged and comforted me. He always ordered me not to hold anything from him. I never did. He told me that if I followed this advice the devil wouldn’t be able to harm me even if the vision did come from him, but that rather the Lord would draw good out of the evil the devil desired to do my soul. This father strove for my soul’s perfection in every way he could. Since I had so much fear, I obeyed him in everything, although imperfectly; for on account of these trials he suffered a great deal during the three years or more that he was my confessor. –-St Teresa of Avila from her autobiography

At such a time, faith, like all the other virtues, is quite numbed and asleep. It is not lost, for the soul has a firm belief in what is held by the Church; but, though it can testify with the mouth, it seems in other respects to be oppressed and stupefied, and it feels as if it knows God only as something of which it has heard from afar off. So lukewarm does its love become that, if it hears Him spoken of, it listens, believing that He is Who He is, because this is held by the Church, but it retains no memory of its own experiences of Him. To go and say its prayers, or to be alone, only causes it greater anguish, for the inward torture which it feels, without knowing the source of it, is intolerable; and, in my opinion, bears some slight resemblance to hell. Indeed this is a fact, for the Lord revealed it to me in a vision: the soul is inwardly burning, without knowing who has kindled the fire, nor whence it comes, nor how to flee from it, nor with what to put it out. In vain does it seek a remedy in reading: it might as well be unable to read at all. Once I chanced to take up the Life of a saint, to see if I could become absorbed in the reading of it and find comfort in thinking of the saint’s sufferings. But I read four or five lines as many times, and, though they were in Spanish, I understood less of them at the end than at the beginning; so I gave it up.

Autobiography of St Teresa of Avila

These souls, (in the second Mansion) then, can understand the Lord when He calls them; for, as they gradually get nearer to the place where His Majesty dwells, He becomes a very good Neighbour to them. And such are His mercy and goodness that, even when we are engaged in our worldly pastimes and businesses and pleasures and hagglings, when we are falling into sins and rising from them again (because these creatures are at once so venomous and so active and it is so dangerous for us to be among them that it will be a miracle if we escape stumbling over them and falling) in spite of all that, this Lord of ours is so anxious that we should desire Him and strive after His companionship that He calls us ceaselessly, time after time, to approach Him; and this voice of His is so sweet that the poor soul is consumed with grief at being unable to do His bidding immediately; and thus, as I say, it suffers more than if it could not hear Him.

St Teresa of Avilla ‘Interior Castle’