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but it is also imparted and dwells and remains and is, like a treasure hidden in the bosom, in which the one carrying it delights and seeing it rejoices, and he thinks that everyone sees it hidden within. But it is not seen by all, it is not touched at all, no thief can plunder it, nor robber snatch 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 pouch, searching the tunics, loosening the belt carefully seeking it, and even if he should cut the belly, and even if he should grope the innards, he will not be able at all to find or take it. For it is also invisible, at least ungraspable by hands and untouchable at the same time, though touched completely; but nevertheless it is held in the hands, and then of the worthy, but away with the unworthy, it lies even in the palm, the what, O wonder, the not-what, for it has no name. Being amazed therefore and desiring to grasp it, having tightened my hand I thought I both held and had it, but it escaped, not being held at all by my hand, and being grieved I opened the fist of my hand (220) and I saw again in it that which I had seen before; O unutterable wonder, O strange mystery! Why are we disturbed in vain, why do we all wander, why have we gaped at this senseless light, we who have been honored with perception and intelligible reason? Why do we look at material things, these perishable ones, when we have an immaterial and wholly immortal soul? And why do we, being altogether senseless, marvel at these things and prefer like blind men the heavy size of this iron and mass over a small piece of gold, or a precious pearl as a worthless thing, and do we not seek the small mustard seed, which is more precious than all visible things, greater than invisible realities and creations? Why do we not give everything and receive this, and why do we wish to live not possessing this? It is better to die many times, believe me, if it were possible, and to acquire only this, the small seed, I say. For woe to those not having it planted in the bosom of their soul, for they will hunger fiercely. Woe to those who have not seen it sprout,

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ἀλλά καί μεταδίδοται καί κατοικεῖ καί μένει καί ἔστιν, ὥσπερ θησαυρός ἐν κόλπῳ κεκρυμμένος, ὅν ὁ βαστάζων ἥδεται καί βλέπων τοῦτον χαίρει, 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,