Amor modo saepe nescit,
Sed super omnem modum fervescit.
Amor onus non sentit,
Labores non reputat;
Plus affectat quam valet;
De impossibilitate non causatur
Quia cuncta sibi posse et licere arbitrator.”
Or in Rev. W. Benham’s admirable version: “He who loveth flyeth, runneth, and is glad; he is free and not hindered. He giveth all things for all things, and has all things in all things, because he resteth in One who is high above all, from whom every good floweth and proceedeth. He looketh not for gifts, but turneth himself to the Giver, above all good things. Love oftentimes knoweth no measure, but breaketh out above all measure; love feeleth no burden, reckoneth not labors, striveth after more than it is able to do, pleadeth not impossibility, because it judgeth all things which are lawful for it to be possible.”[16]
The Imitation has obtained a place next to the Bible in the devotional literature of Christendom. The fact that the author was a Roman Catholic and that the fourth book is a preparation for the devout reception of the Eucharist in accordance with the Roman Catholic theory of its nature, has not prevented stanch Protestants from translating and commending it. Dr. Chalmers wrote a commendatory preface to a Scotch reprint of John Payne’s translation. And in Germany, Holland, and England the Protestant versions have far exceeded those made by Roman Catholics. The first Protestant version was that from the mediaeval into Ciceronian Latin, by Sebastian Castellio (Basle, 1556); the second was into German by the great and good John Arndt. But the book has achieved a still more notable conquest than this. In Corneille’s metrical version (1651) it was a favorite with Auguste Comte, who recommended it to the Benthamist, Sir William Molesworth, as well worth reading. It has obtained a sort of recognition among Comtists as a canonical work, and selections from it often are read at the Positivist services. And English readers will remember the passage in which George Eliot, writing in Comte’s spirit, describes its effect on the sensitive spirit of Maggie Tulliver:
“She knew nothing of doctrines and systems—of mysticism or quietism; but this voice out of the far-off Middle Ages was the direct human communication of a human soul’s belief and experience, and came to Maggie as an unquestioned message.