But how shall we this Union well express?
Nought ties the Soul, her subtility is such:
She moves the body, which She doth possess;
Yet no part toucheth, but by virtue's touch!
Then dwells She not therein, as in a tent,
Nor as a pilot, in his ship doth sit,
Nor as a spider, in her web is pent,
Nor as the wax retains the print in it:
Nor as a vessel, water doth contain,