3. My heart was hot within me. The door
of his heart was shut, and with the fire of sorrow burning within, the chamber
of his soul soon grew unbearable with heat. Silence is an awful thing for a
sufferer. Mourner, tell your sorrow; do it first and most fully to God, but
even to pour it out before some wise and godly friend is far from being wasted
breath. While I was musing the fire burned. As he thought upon the ease
of the wicked and his own daily affliction, he could not unravel the mystery of
providence. Then spake I with my tongue. The original is grandly laconic.
I spake. The muzzled tongue burst all its bonds. You can silence praise,
but anguish is clamorous.
PREVIOUS
NEXT
No comments:
Post a Comment