3. When I kept silence. when through neglect I
failed to confess, or through despair dared not do so, my bones, those
solid pillars of my frame, waxed old, began to decay with weakness, for
my grief was so intense as to sap my health and destroy my vital energy. What a
killing thing is sin! Through my roaring all the day long. He was silent
as to confession, but not as to sorrow. Horror at his great guilt drove David
to incessant laments, until his voice was no longer like the articulate speech
of man, but so full of sighing and groaning that it resembled the hoarse
roaring of a wounded beast. None know the pangs of conviction but those who
have endured them. The Spanish Inquisition with all its tortures was nothing to
the inquest which conscience holds in the heart.
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