O God! what complacency, what a joy to the soul who loves, when she has her desire satisfied, in seeing her beloved infinitely praise, bless and magnify himself! But from this complacency there springs a new desire of praise: for the soul would gladly praise this so worthy a praise given to God by himself, thanking him profoundly for it, and calling again all things to her assistance, to come and glorify the glory of God with her, to bless his infinite benedictions, and praise his eternal praises; so that by this return and repetition of praises upon praises, she engages herself, between complacency and benevolence, in a most happy labyrinth of love, being wholly lost in this immense sweetness, sovereignly praising the divinity in that it cannot be sufficiently praised but by itself. And though in the beginning, the amorous soul had conceived a certain desire of being able to praise God sufficiently; yet reflecting upon herself again, she protests that she would not wish to have power to praise him sufficiently, but remains in a most humble complacency, to perceive that the divine goodness is so infinitely praiseworthy, that it cannot be sufficiently praised save by its own infinity alone.

 And here the soul, ravished with admiration, sings the song of sacred silence: A hymn becometh thee, O Lord, in Sion, and a vow shall be paid to thee in Jerusalem. [256]

 For so the seraphim of Isaias, adoring and praising God, veiled their faces and feet, confessing therein their want of ability to contemplate or serve him properly; for our feet, by which we go, signify service: but still they fly with two wings in the sweet unrest of complacency and benevolence, their love reposing 
 

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