Monthly preparations for the Holy Communion by R.B

Object. But yet, but what can Heaven love so much?

Answ. Thou silly worm! how idly dost thou question? must Heaven, and so its love, be bound up to so narrow and contracted thoughts as thine are? What, can God love no more than thou canst? Love is a perfection, and God is infinitely perfect, so must be infinitely and incomprehensively loving. Thou fool, go sound the Sea, and tell me its greatest depths; give me the height of yonder Stars, this possibly thou mayest do; for the Seas are not so deep but they have a bottom, nor the Stars so high, but they may by art be known. But, Oh the heights, and depths, and breadths, and lengths of the love of our Redeemer! He is God, and his breasts are so full of love, that they flow and overflow with love; they have no bottom. Do but try, my soul, cast thy self into this bottomless lovely Ocean, into this endless Bosom; and when thou hast been sinking millions of millions of years, tell me whether you come to ground. Ye glorious Angels, and ye blessed Spirits of just men made perfect, that live above, you that have been wading downward these five thousands of years, ⟨p. 100⟩do ye feel a bottom? or are ye near one? Away, away, my foolish heart; if this be all thou hast to plead, he may redeem thee, and take thee for his Spouse, and betroth thee to himself, notwithstanding all this.

Answ. Thou silly worm! how idly dost thou question? must Heaven, and so its love, be bound up to so narrow and contracted thoughts as thine are? What, can God love no more than thou canst? Love is a perfection, and God is infinitely perfect, so must be infinitely and incomprehensively loving. Thou fool, go sound the Sea, and tell me its greatest depths; give me the height of yonder Stars, this possibly thou maist do; for the Seas are not so deep but they have a bottom, nor the Stars so high, but they may by art be known. But, Oh the heights, and depths, and breadths, and lengths of the love of our Redeemer! He is God, and his breasts are so full of love, that they flow and overflow with love; they have no bottom. Do but try, my soul, cast thy self into this bottomless lovely Ocean, into this endless Bosom; and when thou hast been sinking millions of millions of years, tell me whether you come to ground. Ye glorious Angels, and ye blessed Spirits of just men made perfect, that live above, you that have been wading downward these five thousands of years,