terious radiance of the Divine Dark, the inaccessible light wherein the Lord is said to dwell, and to which thought with all its struggles cannot attain."
"Lovers," said Patmore, "put out the candles and draw the curtains, when they wish to see the god and the goddess; and, in the higher communion, the night of thought is the light of perception." These statements cannot be explained: they can only be proved in the experience of the individual soul. "Whoso deserves to see and know God rests therein," says Dionysius of that darkness, "and, by the very fact that he neither sees nor knows, is truly in that which surpasses all truth and all knowledge."
"Then," says the writer of the Cloud —whispering as it were to the bewildered neophyte the dearest secret of his love—"then will He sometimes peradventure send out a beam of ghostly light, piercing this cloud of unknowing that is betwixt thee and Him; and show thee some of His
