21. The holy poet here reviews his inward struggle and awards himself
censure for his folly. His pain had been intense; he says, Thus my heart was grieved. It was a deep-seated sorrow, and one which penetrated his inmost
being. Alexander reads it, “My heart
is soured.” His spirit had become embittered; he had judged in a harsh, crabbed,
surly manner. He had poisoned his own life at the fountain-head. And I was pricked in my reins. He was as full of pain as someone with kidney disease;
his hard thoughts were like so many stones in his kidneys; he was utterly
wretched and woebegone all through his own reflections. O blessed faith, which
drives away the inquisitors and sets the captives free!
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