On the Soul

On the Superiority of the Soul and How It Distributes Itself Homily Thirty-Nine On the Superiority of the Soul and How It Distributes Itself to the Body Which Is Its Dwelling The beginning of wisdom is the wisdom of truth, which is the power of the Creator, who from nothing created everything, both hidden and revealed. The beginning of intelligence is to contemplate the creation, not to investigate the Creator through creatures, but through His love. The beginning of inquiry is to be investigated in the greatness of His power, who made the world and governs it according to His will. The beginning of knowledge is to know His love toward His ordinances, that when He is angry, He is not changed by His anger. The beginning of patience is to justify His choice, that when He is good, He does not lose the sign of His eyes. The beginning of goodness is to serve many with His gentleness, that when He is good, He mixes a remedy with harshness in His tendons. The beginning of distinction is to distinguish well which side is fitting for rational speech, the mistress of arts. The beginning of everything is to arrange the order that is set in the instrument, that it may be complete, the course of speakers for the word in which it is. The beginning of law is to be exercised in the law of the spirit, to complete all that is written from the hidden mouth. The beginning of reward is to repay a debt to set a limit, that honor from every image of a human being may call him. A debt obligates every person to his ordinance, that he gives the law and fulfills it, the Lord over his ordinances.

On the Soul — Narsai ...the beginning of wisdom is the wisdom of truth. In the members it is fitting to render praise from all that are, for He alone is glorious in the name that is high above all. It is necessary to know the power of the sign of the Creator, who stood and reigned over His nature and fashioned His creation. It is fitting to justify the power of His creation, for by His hand He fashioned and from the breath of His mouth He breathed into it a soul. A vessel of clay He mounted, making it a rational being: a body revealed and a soul hidden, one human. In the likeness of an image He formed in it the power of His creativity: craftsmen in its body and speakers in the nature of its soul. In its body it limits the knowledge of everything visible, and within its soul are hidden the heights that have no composition. The living being makes it for the heavenly and the earthly, and like a foundation He built in it crowns and crafts. The finder of love sets its nature in the earth wisely, and fills and completes the power of the wisdoms for those who dwell in it. In its soul He placed the great treasure of His creativity, from which every thing that is made asks for the sustenance of its life. The treasury of hidden things is the soul of a human, in which the power of the Creator, who is not limited, sets limits. Hidden mysteries are concealed in the depth of its nature, and are not revealed except by the power of its creativity. The mystery of the knowledge of the name of being is in its order, and in a trinitarian manner its nature is formed by word and power.

Its likeness is in some small measure like the nature of the substances, its nature to the Father and its Word to the Son and its life to the Spirit. Not in its nature does it resemble the hidden nature, but in a mystery according to the demonstration of its dignity. It is smaller than many of the substances without dimensions, as the shadow of a body is smaller than the body itself. It is a being, and there is no beginning to its duration, and it is a helper and a sustainer, holding the reins of its course. The power of the Creator gives it the power of rationality, that it may live and give life to the dead body that dwells in it. In the likeness of a spring that pours forth life, it places life in the body; through it the dull senses are stirred to produce fruits. By the instrument of its rationality it composes the body and produces and gives a voice of thanksgiving to its Creator. By the power of its vitality it lives and walks in the life of the course, and with it it conceals the treasure of life that does not die. By its light it sees the fitting light of the name of the Creator, and with its journeys it goes forth and reaches the being. By its swiftness it stands to discern taste well, and like a speaker it arranges the course of its speech. It is a sun of the two in the perishable members of the body, and with its rays it works in the earth and drives on the path. It is salt for the savor of the sweetness of its limbs, and through it the human being is refined and becomes fit.

Wealth is the form that runs to the poverty of its scattered dust, and by its wisdoms it distributes its life like a rich man. By the word of its water it raises the daughter of its voice over the creatures, and by its authority it extends its authority over everything. By its wink it commands the earthly ones to obey it, and by its ascent it directs the heavenly ones towards it. By its lightness it crosses the sea as if on dry land, and the weight of its body is not sunk in the depths. Like a ship’s anchor hung from the vessel of its body, and it guards it from waves so that it is not destroyed. At its appointed time it runs like a sailor with a star of light, and it prepares for it a path of guidance to reach the desired shore. By its art it teaches the deaf to serve it, and by its colors it sets order to the disorderly. By its subtlety it makes itself wise over the silent, and by its rays it casts commands over the subtle. Like a charioteer it rides upon the world in a subtle manner, and it orders it without being disturbed beneath the laws. The soul, like its mother, for the whole creation is under its authority, and it has placed it in the likeness of a king upon the chariot. In the reins of its movements it holds heaven and earth in its hands, and wherever it wishes, it strikes the desire of its dominion. O human, whose name is dust from everything, how much has the scattered one risen above everything!

O Creator, great and exalted above all creatures, how much have your desires been humbled for the sake of your poor! Your sign raises up the scattered ones again above all, and you hold the scepter of your sign to guide all. The power of your wisdoms you have placed in the poor vessels of life, and it begins to guide the courses of words in your likeness. Yours is the treasure of words that are within the soul, and through you it learns to imitate its words by your Word. Your Word was spread at the beginning of creation, to her and to all, and she stood before the voice of your command and acquired life. Life she mixed with her strength when she was established, and she was clothed in the garment of the visible body. The temple of the body sought your desires, and she stood in the likeness of a king within the palace. Like a charioteer she mounted the visible senses, and she directed the finger of her skill with word and hearing. Like a flute that destroys the spirit, her mouth became, and she sang in it the voice of sweet melodies with pleasant tones. With a sweet reed she sings at all times gentle sounds, and she delights the hearer of life by the vitality of her life. By the spirit of her vitality the dead one utters soft sounds, and as if it were his own, he is bold in the other that interprets through him. He is like a reed hidden from sound and from vitality, but when the living soul sings in him, he acquires vitality.

The soul is her life, and she is the one who preserves him in the life of the air. And when she turns her eyelids, she changes his limbs, and he becomes a corpse. Nothing stands in the things that stand that are not her own, and nothing is established apart from the power of her activity. Like a mistress she sits within him, and he does not see her, and he, like a servant, ministers and is silent before her freedom. The Creator discerns well between them, as in a house, and the cause is she who dwells in him like a king’s daughter. The body first composes a sign in the womb of the flesh, and afterward the soul is formed and dwells within him. In the place of a kingdom, she seeks a house in the face of the flesh, and when it is completed, she calls her dweller who remembers in it. In the veins of the body, she seeks a bodily house, and in the place of her bonds, she casts a net of what is moist. Like a foundation, she places seed in the matrix of the body, and she leads him like a request toward completion. The seed becomes a word for the body and becomes thick, and from it the body knows a body that resembles a body. The soul has no seed that will show another, and not by her fullness does her nature know within her members. From nothing, a hidden sign forms her existence, and in the form that she was made, that of Adam, by the will of his spirit. From nothing, her nature comes to the womb, as she is the life of the wakeful and the spiritual.

The spirit is she, also like the spirits that have no body, and her nature and her form are equal to that which was in him. From nothing were the spirits in the beginning that were, and from nothing her course runs through all generations. After the body her form becomes the form of Adam, and that order runs every day in her and in the body. She sculpts limbs, a painter before the great of painters, and she breathes into him the spirit of life, and he becomes a living being. The seamstress of flesh sews with a spiritual hand, and she spreads him out like curtains above the self. Within the darkness the body is mounted, and the self creates, as a wild beast in the beginning, and places her in the darkness. As in a mystery she shows the man in the form of the man, upon that order of his creation from nothing. The greatness of her power proclaims every hour in our composition, through the form of the body and the self that becomes every day. In the body's riding she shows the creation of the sentient beings, and in the becoming of the self, the becoming of the passions is known. All creation renews every hour through her forms, and she gives birth to it like a mother on the day of birth. In her, natures, both mute and speaking, are examined, by the power of the maker who renews in her their likenesses. A great wonder they see every hour in our composition, that the man knows the man in the likeness of the man from within the seeds.

You see the seed that man casts into the earth of man, and when it is spread and absorbed, it becomes a hundredfold, glorious. You see the body when it is composed like that first one, and again also the soul that dwells within it like that of Adam. And they testify concerning that voice of the sixth day, when it spoke throughout all the days of the making of man. It was when that command which fashioned Adam, to fashion the body and to breathe into his face the spirit of life. The living spirit creates in the body when it is composed, and lives, immortal lives, move in its mortality. Nine months it dwells in the house of darkness, and after the time it goes out and sees the beautiful creation. From darkness man comes forth from within man, and shows light and makes a voice heard and utters words. In her travail she marvels at the pains of the womb, how heavy, as she marvelled on the first day when light was. Like light, she brightens the earth that was dark, so that it also pursues the darkness of pains from her womb. With body and soul man comes forth from within the womb, the body revealed and the soul hidden, a hundredfold concealed. In a motherly way his composition is formed in two forms, body of earth and soul of spirit, two in one man. One human being, man calls body and soul, because of the love of that Creator who joined them.

One is the body and one is the soul of a single human being, and one is the sign that begets every day a human being from a human being. From the body a bodily sign begets another body, and like that soul of a single human being are all souls. Body greatly resembles body, and soul resembles soul, just as the day resembles the day that precedes it. Not as something new does a human being create; he establishes everything, for from the human being who was at the beginning, the human being proceeds. From one body were all bodies that were and will be; also souls have one nature, like that which was. One is the sign that at the beginning begot body and soul, and its power runs with its offspring until the end. Its offspring is equal in every day as at the beginning, and the body bears witness that it resembles body, and soul resembles soul. Like a herald, the soul cries out within the members, that human beings may see how much human being resembles human being. Hidden in the body and not visible corporeally, its voice is brighter than the sun to the eyes of the body. Within the body, the vision of its dignity is concealed, and it restrains it from being degraded before the eyes of beholders. It dwells within it and is hidden from it by the garment that is over it, and when it sees it, it does not see it, where or how it is. Its nature is within itself, and its activity is external in deeds. And when it is good, it is separate from it, and it again from it.

Not wholly is the nature of the soul mixed, for it is one and she is one without mixture. Toward the limbs it is hidden, hidden in one place, and the power of its life is spread over the senses within and without. In the heart it sits like a steward in the middle of the house, and from there it hears the voice of its love, all the senses. In the middle of the house sits the mistress of the house in her house, and she gathers to herself the senses of the body like children. The milk of its movements the body sucks, the child of the mind, and as if on the knees it is nourished by it without ceasing. Like a nurse it bears the cares of the childhood of the heart, and according to its power it gives food by which it may be strengthened. With its measures it grows, also she, while not growing, and like a mother she cherishes its childhood with her love. Complete is its nature from the beginning, while it is being nourished, and it is not found wanting in its completeness apart from the body. In it is the word of its rationality from the day it was, and the course of its swiftness is confined toward the limbs. It knows to produce the sound of sweet tones, and as the instrument of the flesh is weak, so also is she. It is skilled to arrange a good order on the lyre of its existence, and it fears that the strings of the body may be stretched without harmony.

The power of discernment is sharp to distinguish, and the senses of the body do not hinder it from perceiving clearly. Wisely it guards its treasures beyond silence until the body grows, the child inherits his coverings. Like parents she also acts toward the limbs, so that as long as the children are young, their heirs are not empowered. By God, all is likened to the expense of her activity, that from high places man descends. With his growth she ascends to the stage of youth, and with his old age she descends to the stage of weakness. With his health she is strong in the exercise of her discernment, and with his illness she is weak in her nature from duty. On the day of his joys her thought is glad and her voice bright, and on the day of his mourning her thought is sad and her voice small. The full one in his fullness, while her nature does not receive food, and the hungry one in his hunger, while she is not concerned about food. The wakeful one in his labor, while she is turned about in earthly affairs, and the sleeping one in his sleep, while her wakeful one does not sleep. The living one in his life, while she is dead without life, and again the mourner on the day of his passing, while she is living. She beautifies her love when her face is good from nature, and she hides his pains while she does not feel in her sensibility. In love she suffers with her beloved, not in lamentation, for her nature is higher than all bodily sufferings.

Through a hidden love it endures the pain of its mortality, and like a groan it lowers its voice on the day of its grief. Through a hidden love it enters within its senses like a stranger, and it does not reveal the work of the labor of its limbs. Because of its love it has loved earthly love, and though it is spirit, it performs bodily actions. Because of its love it descends with it to the contests, and yet it does nothing that would recall its name. Its body has no desire for the flesh of partnership, and when the flesh was inflamed for flesh, it became from it. It has no way to eat coarse food in the manner of the body, but if it hungers, it hungers with it and eats with it. It never sleeps, being wakeful, nor does it sleep again; and when its senses are submerged in sleep, its thoughts are vigilant. The body sleeps, and it sleeps with it, though it does not sleep; its voice sleeps, but its mind is awake, and it abandons its sleep. For the body, sleep is both food and union, and in a borrowed name its nature shares in what is not its own. The sufferings of its body and the body are distinct, and because of love they are said to be one pain. Its own is the grinding of the mill that turns in the house of thoughts, and its own is the wrath that is kindled in the furnace of the passions.

Its own is the hidden groan that groans from the work, and the love of glory enters and dwells in the senses. Its own is the secret foundation that raises the sign of love, and the accuser spreads a net to hunt the pure of heart. Its own is the bitterness, and its own the wrath, and its own the murder, and it is compelled to repay injuries to one who does evil to it. Its own is the pain and the lament of the soul over its deeds, and it is beseeched to ask for mercy on account of its sins. Of the body is the food of the body, custom and partnership, and it is bound to earthly things according to its desire. Its own are the sorrows and pains of mortality, and it again turns and becomes a groan on the day of its grief. It is with the soul and is not mingled with its severity, and the soul is within it and is not divided from its rider. It is lost in its senses and does not perceive what it is, a knower knows, and it is lost and is not found in its lightness. Like horses, its senses are wearied under its dominion, and it does not consider what is the cause of its weariness. Like a charioteer, it rides upon its will above its body, and wherever it wishes, the ship of its corporeality is steered. Like warriors, it is clothed in movements, the path of its deeds, and it orders them so that it does not stumble in the disturbances.

The word of its thought casts into its mouth like a reed, and it does not give it to him that he might purify himself and his limbs. The rod of knowledge is raised at all times over its childhood, and it reminds him of the passions and sinews beyond. The book of the remembrance of the beatitudes and the sinews is held in its hand, and it meditates for him in hidden places that do not see him. The fear of death cries out in its mouth and warns him: "Behold, a departure without end is prepared for the wretched." In love it hastens to its station and its partner, that they might not be separated from the foundation that is for the sake of truth. Like a crier it calls out to the senses and thoughts: "Arise, be equipped for the service of the beautiful things." Until the body sleeps and the impulse is awake, "Arise, be armed and see the dawn of righteousness." With the voice of the passions it awakens itself and the members, that they might not be submerged in the disturbances as in a net. The net of iniquity pursues from it and from its beloved, that they might be watchful for the plucking of the rational fruits. In its rationality is its meditation by night and day, and the power of life subdues its movements without end. The desire for life places in its nature the Lord of natures, and no longer does the course of life cease from its vitality. The ferment of life without death is hidden in its creation, that it might draw the dead body to life.

The power of its life guides the cheeks of its death, and it subdues the words of the memories of its recollection. Like a speaker, the deaf one speaks in his own vessel, and it bears the fruits of speech in the meaning of his body. The fruits of the soul, the silent one bears at the head of his limbs, and from him emanates the scent of life that does not see him. The finger of life strikes at all times upon the instrument of his body, and it delights him for the world, the mourner, with the sound of wisdoms. O cithara of the bones of flesh that is destructible, which, while it is flesh, sings spiritual sounds. O flute of reed that is hollow, filled with knots, through which simple sounds are conducted without obstruction. O lyre that fills the foundation of the scattered senses, which the living soul, the life-giving one of the watchers, has put on. O life, which, though not ascending to order, is clothed in a destructible garment and is proud in it. O bird whose wing is small from flight, which dwells in a body and does not desire to fly from it. O one hidden in a prison filled with darkness, and who drags the harsh chains of sensation. O command that confines the living one in a dead house, and the scent of the life of the living emanates and a voice sounds. O artisan who forms life in soft clay and stamps upon its face, without its knowledge, bodily forms.

O painter, how wise is your creativity! Through the instrument of the flesh you have revealed your greatness to the work of your hands. Like a writer, he imprints the world with his body and his soul, so that heaven and earth are astonished at you through his revelation. In him, the earthly and the heavenly see you, and though you are far, you are worshipped in him as if near. With body and soul you have formed their greatness into an image of a likeness, and from all creatures your sign resounds with his structure. The dwelling of love has planted them in the earth with two virtues, so that the earthly and the heavenly may dwell in him. With body and soul you have perfected them into a temple of his life, so that the eloquent and the deaf may approach in him with one confession. The garment of his flesh has woven your will from the living one, and in the likeness of a seal you have stamped in him your soul, a simple life. By the power of his soul, the dead one lives and walks the world, and by its light he guides the season of the silent word. Like a lamp suspended, the soul in the temple of the body burns with the oil of life, eloquent and immortal. The order of light fills his life for the dead body, and when its elevation reigns, darkness rules over his members. A lamp is her word, and it shows the light of life, and at the head of his sense, her voice blazes like a torch. By her light he sees, by her voice he hears, by her word he interprets, and by her thickness he works in the earth with all thicknesses.

By its power it offers the victories of its contests, and by its action it conquers the passions of its mortality. Through it it is adorned in the arena of the works of righteousness, and it gives him a crown of victory in return for his suffering. It teaches him to take up a spiritual contest, and encourages him not to be terrified before the adversary. A crown of immortal life is woven in its place, and it urges him on as to a contest that is near and he receives. With it he descends to all the lower contests, and like an athlete he anoints his senses so that they may not be captured. Death alone is able to separate it from its body, and it is not possible to take up a contest with its destroyer. The hidden bridle of the secret sign is tightened from silence, and it astonishes her like a woman in labor on the day of her giving birth. The pangs of the powers strike even her at the time of death, when they expel her as a child from within the body. Like a plunderer, death enters the temple of her dwelling and strips her from within the body of her purity. It denudes the departing one from within her house, the mistress of the body, and like a revelation it casts her to another place. A great mourning overwhelms her mind on the day of her departure, when she sees her dwelling being destroyed by terrible death. With the voice of lamentations she weeps for herself and for her beloved, that he is being destroyed and her own voice ceases.

It is silent in its silence over what it was, that it may no longer sing the bound sounds in the prison of its love. Great is the anguish when the senses are severed from it, and instead of its life it sings a moth in the midst of its members. It is good that it is silent over its separation from the side of its love, and when it knows well that the hope of finding its side stands. The sign of its nature gives it power to know these things, and it blesses in it the power of the wisdoms of silence. That command which enters and confines it within the members, that same command brings it out as a cause without sickness. It is not bent by the suffering of the pains of the body, nor is it corrupted when the garment of its covering is corrupted. It is high, greatly above death and above sicknesses, and it is not seen nor grasped corporeally. It is a living spirit, and its flight is light to fly in the air, and it is not grasped by the nets of death like the members. One of the watchers descends to its side on the day of its passing, and leads it to the place commanded by the Creator. Like a guide, the spirit leads the spiritual ones until it enters the house of lights to its companions. That angel which guarded it in the life of the body shows it where it will dwell until the resurrection. In the earth are commanded to dwell all souls, some after a time and some in the place to which it was sent.

In the place where it was accustomed, the soul of the lovers of truth begins, and the wicked in places beyond it. Within Paradise the righteous dwell in spirit, not in body, when they have attained that station of the high kingdom. In the place of the face of the east, that they may dwell among the kingdoms, and learn every one that the true hope that sustains him is certain. It is not that the reward may take the taste in exchange for their labors, but that it may reveal the distinction that will be at the end. Nor is the place outside a garment for the clothed, but that it may show that it cannot be raised to the face of the height. Like a guide, Paradise gives the beginning of its words to the confirmation of the simple, and it confirms the power of its praises. According to the childhood of the life that offers its heavy offering, by its cause it may draw man towards the future. It is a gift of the earth, even Paradise, however beautiful, and it is corruptible, the food of its fruits like all fruits. It is called a delight among mortals by its history, and it seeks to go and moisten the immortal life. With this, it will open its entrance before the Savior, who first trod the path before the wanderers. The first Adam held his door in the face of man, and the second Adam opened his door and entered the baptismal font.

Two souls go before him in the beginning, as in a mystery. In that order in which Eve and Adam came forth from him, two dwell in it at the beginning of the earthly station, and two go up to him in a firm mystery that cannot be destroyed. For two, the command of the desire for the fruit went out, and for two, the command of righteousness entered. Sin opened its way before the sinners who resemble Adam, and righteousness opened its way for Adam and for Gehazi. With the righteous one, it went up against the sinner into Paradise, that it might give a hand to the penitents to be set in order. Through Gehazi it shows that it is possible to be justified, that the greatness of his iniquity does not hinder him from entering. In one soul that has reason with him, it reveals to everyone that those who desire are not hindered from entering. The soul of the Lord and of Gehazi went up first, and then the way was prepared to go down to the place of the world. Into the world enter all souls that endure sufferings, and there they rest like the bed of life. As on the seventh day they rest from their labors, and they are not fit for the eloquence of the power that is in them. The rest are silent from the business of what is good and fair, and they are not occupied with the contests of the labors of righteousness. It is not that the power in them is void of life, but that there is no instrument of the body to convey words.

It was not fitting that the separation of the treasure be divided and dried up, but that it has no existence apart from the body, which is heavy upon the water. It was not that the small formation diminished his wisdom and hid his treasures, but that he is not a hypostasis that can be held in his hands. It was not that the swiftness of his running was in vain, but that he is not a body that the wanderer could ride. It was not that the rays of light were darkened for their eyes, so that they could not see well in the depths, but that the mouth brings forth words, and death shuts it. Her freedom did not taste the daughter of freedoms over that silence, but that the body of her love is silent over that partnership. The mourner is grieved over her beloved, who separated from her, and is not comforted by earthly disturbances. The silent one watches over his destiny wisely, until the hearer hears the voice that calls him to his death. For he cannot do anything without him, just as he himself has no existence without her. One human being is established, and when he is established, the whole is completed; half of a human being is filled without its other half. Half of a human being is the soul, for it is living, and its activity cannot be sustained without the body. For it and the body desire that his image be called, and how can actions be formed without the body?

In the body she gave to show her power of wisdom, and she did not diminish, nor in her rest does she accomplish anything. The body sleeps, and she with it, while not sleeping, until she stands, not to be awakened, toward her work. And if while sleeping she was not able to accomplish anything, how can she now be active in the rest of death? If while the union with her body was firm she was not able in it, how can she now sing, having made a different song? If while in it her course was confined in the rest of pains, how can she now be at rest, having departed from its members? That she is at rest I said from activities, not from life, for there is no nature for her from which the power of vitality might be removed. In her is the wealth; how, if she departed from within her house, there is no vessel in which to distribute it as before? In her is the word; how, if she is at rest from activities, there is no tongue in which to interpret the power of her wisdom? In her is the air, the dwelling of the spirit of flight; there are no members that become wings for her lightness. In her is the flesh, the subtle body, skilled in the house of waves; there is no arm that can confine the spirit within from its depth. In her exist the movements, the depths of the spirit, firm; there is no sailor who looks well toward their appointments. In her is everything that belongs to her nature without confusion: nature, word, and power of vitality, while they are silent.

When she is still, not all of her is in the likeness of the body, but she rests from the activities that are by means of the senses. She rests, not the rest of the members without distinction, but she is awake and also considered, and there is no action. Without action the soul abides, when she has been conducted, for there is no instrument of the craft by which she might be exercised. There is no potter who can work without clay, nor a carpenter who builds with his hands without an axe. There is no sailor who sails the sea without a ship, nor a fisherman who catches fish without nets. The soul has no ship of bodily timbers upon that rest from the eloquent sea's agitation. She has no clay, a vessel dyed with blood, upon that rest of the timbers of her separation. In her stands her craft, as in the body, as when a craftsman holds his craft. Thus she is fitting for that great craft of crafts, which without the body is not practiced in earthly things. To her and to the body is allotted recompense and judgment, and together they will enjoy the blessings of height and the thorns of the earth. For that recompense she and her companion are suited together, and as long as the body is still in the grave, she also is in life. In a life of bonds she is now still, without movements, in that form as when infants are in the womb.

When she is in the womb and outside, and as long as the gate of the exit is held shut, she also is still. She is in the womb and in the grave and in the tomb, and wisely she preserves the order of herself and of him. She has no means to sin or to be justified except through him, nor to acquire merit or demerit apart from him. If she were able to be justified by herself alone, then the iniquity of former generations would have been repaid long ago. If it were easy for Adam himself to atone for sins, there would be no lineage from the folly of the cross. And if the debt of those who passed away had been paid, there would be no judgment and no claims with the ancients. The books cry out that judgment stands like trumpets, and nature bears witness that there are no labors for the soul by itself. As long as the body and the soul are liable to atone for sins, until one is separated from the other and labor ceases. As long as it is fitting for the whole man to be justified, until death comes, that is, and devours his body. Come, O mortals, to the works of righteousness while you live, for after death there is no opportunity for good or evil. Come, strive in body and soul for the mercy of the Creator, that you may be delivered from the abyss without end.