her
away.
But
she
can
find
no
rest
in
the
creature,
having
tasted
of
the
Creator.
She
dashes
on
more
vehemently;
and
the
steeper
the
rocks,
and
the
greater
the
obstacles
which
oppose
her
course,
the
more
she
redoubles
her
speed.
She
is
like
the
dove
from
the
ark,
which,
finding
no
rest
for
the
sole
of
its
foot,
was
obliged
to
return.
But
alas
!
what
could
the
poor
dove
have
done
if,
when
it
desired
to
re-enter
the
ark,
Noah
had
not
put
out
his
hand
to
take
it
in
?
It
could
only
have
fluttered
round
about
the
ark,
seeking
rest
but
finding
none.
So
this
poor
dove
flutters
round
the
ark
till
the
Divine
Noah,
having
compassion
on
her
distress,
opens
the
door
and
receives
her
to
Himself.
Oh,
wonderful
and
loving
invention
of
the
goodness
of
God
1
He
only
eludes
the
search
of
the
soul
to
make
it
flee
more
quickly
to
Him.
He
hides
Himself
that
He
may
be
sought
after.
He
apparently
lets
her
fall,
that
He
may
have
the
joy
of
sustaining
her
and
raising
her
up.
Oh,
strong
and
vigorous
ones,
who
have
never
experienced
these
artifices
of
love,
these
apparent
jealousies,
these
flights,
lovely
to
the
soul
which
has
passed
them,
but
terrible
to
those
who
