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and he thinks that he sees it hidden in everyone. But it is not seen by all, it is not felt at all, a thief cannot plunder this, nor a robber seize it, even if he should kill the one carrying it; if he should wish to take it away, he will labor in vain searching the purse, searching the tunics, loosening the belt diligently seeking it, and even if he should cut the belly, and even if he should feel the entrails, he will not at all be strong enough to find or to take it. For it is indeed invisible, ungraspable at least by hands and at the same time untouchable, though it is completely felt; and yet it is held then in the hands of the worthy, but far be it from the unworthy, it lies even in the palm, the what, o wonder, the not-what, for it has no name. Amazed therefore and desiring to seize it, clenching my hand I thought that I both grasped and held it, but it escaped, in no way held by my hand, and grieved I opened the fist of my hand (220) and saw again in it, what I had seen before; o unspeakable wonder, o strange mystery! Why are we troubled in vain, why do we all wander, why do we gape at this insensible light, we who are honored with sense and intelligible reason? Why do we look to these corruptible material things, having an immaterial and wholly immortal soul? And why do we marvel at these things, being altogether without perception, and prefer like blind men the heavy size of iron and of this mass over a little piece of gold, or a precious pearl as a worthless thing, and we do not seek the little grain of mustard seed, which is more precious than all things seen, greater than the invisible realities and created things? Why do we not give all things and receive this, and why do we even wish to live not possessing this? It is better to die, believe me, many times, if it is possible, and only to acquire this, I mean the little grain. For woe to those who do not have it planted in the bosom of their soul, for they will hunger grievously. Woe to those who have not seen it sprout, because they will stand naked like trees without leaves. Woe to those who do not believe the word of the Lord, that this becomes a tree and sends forth branches, and who do not seek out with diligence and mindfulness the daily growth of this little grain, because they will suffer the loss of its product, as the servant who foolishly buried the talent; of whom I am indeed one, neglecting it plainly; O tri-hypostatic light, Father, Son and Spirit, O beginningless beginning and authority of the beginning,

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δοκεῖ καί πάντας καθορᾶν αὐτόν ἐγκεκρυμμένον. Ἀλλ᾿ οὐχ ὁρᾶται ἅπασιν, οὐ ψηλαφᾶται ὅλως, οὐ κλέπτης τοῦτον δύνασαι συλῆσαι, οὐ λῃστής τε ἁρπάσαι, εἰ καί κτείνειε τόν βαστάζοντα τοῦτον˙ ἄν ἀφελέσθαι βουληθῇ, εἰς μάτην κοπιάσει ἀνερευνῶν μαρσίππιον, ἀνερευνῶν χιτῶνας, τήν ζώνην λύων ἀσφαλῶς ἀναζητῶν ἐκεῖνον, κἄν τήν κοιλίαν τέμνειε, κἄν σπλάγχνα ψηλαφήσῃ, εὑρεῖν ἐκεῖνον ἤ λαβεῖν ὅλως οὐκ ἐξισχύσει. Ἔστι καί γάρ ἀόρατος, ἀκράτητος χερσί γε καί ἀψηλάφητος ὁμοῦ, ψηλαφώμενος ὅλως˙ κρατεῖται δ᾿ ὅμως ἐν χερσί καί τότε τῶν ἀξίων, τῶν δ᾿ ἀναξίων ἄπαγε, κεῖται καί ἐν παλάμῃ, τό τί, ὤ θαῦμα, τό οὐ τί, ὄνομα γάρ οὐκ ἔχει. Ἐκπλαγείς οὖν καί κατασχεῖν αὐτό ἐπιθυμήσας, σφίγξας τήν χεῖρα ἔδοξα κρατῆσαί τε καί ἔχειν, ἀλλά διέδρα μηδαμῶς κατασχεθέν χειρί μου, καί λυπηθείς ἀνέῳξα τήν πυγμήν τῆς χειρός μου (220) καί εἶδον πάλιν ἐν αὐτῇ, ὅπερ πρῴην ἑώρων˙ ὤ θαῦμα ἀνεκλάλητον, ὤ μυστηρίου ξένου! Τί μάτην ταραττόμεθα, τί πλανώμεθα πάντες, τί πρός τό φῶς κεχήναμεν, τό ἀναίσθητον τοῦτο, οἱ ἐν αἰσθήσει νοερῷ τετιμημένοι λόγῳ; Τί πρός τάς ὕλας βλέπομεν, τάς φθειρομένας ταύτας, ἄϋλον ἔχοντες ψυχήν καί ἀθάνατον ὅλην; Τί δέ ταῦτα θαυμάζομεν ὅλως ἀναισθητοῦντες καί προτιμῶμεν ὡς τυφλοί τό βαρύ τοῦ σιδήρου καί μάζης τούτου μέγεθος ὑπέρ μικρόν χρυσίον, ἤ μαργαρίτην τίμιον ὡς ἀτίμητον χρῆμα, καί οὐ ζητοῦμεν τόν μικρόν τοῦ σινάπεως κόκκον, ὅ τιμιώτερόν ἐστι πάντων τῶν ὁρωμένων, μεῖζον τῶν ἀοράτων τε πραγμάτων καί κτισμάτων; Τί οὐ διδοῦμεν ἅπαντα καί λαμβάνομεν τοῦτον, τί δέ καί ζῆν βουλόμεθα μή κεκτημένοι τοῦτον; Κρεῖσσον θανεῖν, πιστεύσατε, πολλάκις, εἰς οἷόν τε, καί μόνον τοῦτον κτήσασθαι, τόν μικρόν λέγω κόκκον. Οὐαί γάρ τοῖς μή ἔχουσιν αὐτόν πεφυτευμένον ἐν κόλπῳ τῆς ψυχῆς αὐτῶν, λιμώξουσι σφοδρῶς γάρ. Οὐαί τοῖς μή βλαστήσαντα αὐτόν θεασαμένοις, ὅτι γυμνοί τε στήσονται ὡς δένδρα φύλλων δίχα. Οὐαί τοῖς μή πιστεύουσι τῷ λόγῳ τοῦ Κυρίου, ὡς τοῦτον δένδρον γίνεσθαι καί κλάδους ἀποπέμπειν, καί ἐκζητοῦσιν ἐν σπουδῇ καί νοός τῇ τηρήσει τήν καθ᾿ ἡμέραν αὔξησιν τοῦ μικροῦ τούτου κόκκου, ὅτι ζημιωθήσονται τούτου τήν ἐργασίαν, ὡς δοῦλος ὁ τό τάλαντον κατορύξας ἀφρόνως˙ ὧν εἷς ὑπάρχω δή κἀγώ, ἀμελῶν ἀσυγχύτως˙ ὦ φῶς τό τρισυπόστατον, Πάτερ, Υἱέ καί Πνεῦμα, ὦ τῆς ἀρχῆς ἡ ἄναρχος ἀρχή καί ἐξουσία,