PREFACE.

It does not seem to me to be either ungrateful or useless to the readers to declare at the threshold of this work by what reasons I was moved and by what counsel I was led to set about researching and editing the unpublished works of St. Ephrem.

While I was intent on the study of the Syriac language, I took up the Syriac works of the Holy Doctor to be read, which were edited in the last century at Rome by most learned Maronites from the most ancient Nitrian codices. The fame of the Syrian writer, as it escapes no one, was not unknown to me either. But as soon as I had tasted his metrical sermons, hymns, and commentaries for some time, I perceived—which did not escape those reading his writings in Latin or Greek, as Jerome, Theodoret, and Sozomen long ago noted—that the Deacon of Edessa was an exegete, ascetic, apologist, and poet second to none among the Orientals in sharpness of wit, doctrine, eloquence, and art of speech, and not inferior to the Greeks or Latins. His ascetic writings are known everywhere and have been translated not only into Greek, Latin, Arabic, Slavonic, Egyptian, and Armenian, but have also been expressed in modern languages: French, English, German, and Italian.

The character of the ascetic writings.Ambrose, the Camaldolese monk, depicted the character of these ascetic writings excellently in the preface of his Latin translation in these words, which deserve to be recited: “I recently met a stranger who had set out from Syria to us; old in age, tall in stature, but already bent by old age, calm and decorous in countenance, and in his very look and habit bearing the insignia of sanctity, his eyes suffused with tears. But it was in such a way that his face was not marred by it, and it seemed that no dignity was taken away, but much authority and grace added... Captivated by such grace and dignity of countenance, I burned to speak with him and to enjoy his familiar company, hoping for that which was indeed very true, that from his conversation I would perceive much utility and pleasure. Therefore, setting aside shyness for a little while, I approached and greeted the old man most officiously... When we sat down, from the very beginning of his discourse, I noticed that my old man was most experienced in divine matters, burning with the affection of extraordinary piety, inflamed with the ardor of divine charity, solicitous, intent, vigilant, challenging torpor and laziness in every word, a great friend of compunction—which those famous tears of his signified not obscurely—an enemy of negligence and harmful security, gentle, calm, mild, everywhere pruning away vices and praising virtues, and finally, powerfully moving our affections toward the love of God, the contempt of the world, and the ambition for eternal rewards and the dread of punishments. Good God, what joy, what solace, and what profit I perceived from the mouth of such an eminent guest, when he addressed me day and night in constant prayer. Nothing could be said or imagined more pleasing than his look, more salutary than his doctrine, or more dear, pleasant, and joyful than his company.”