Let Everything That Has Breath Praise the Lord

Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the LORD. (Ps. 150.6)

Timothy Rogers, Trouble of Mind and the Disease of Melancholy, pp. 392-393:

Let us call upon our brethren and our friends to help us praise the Lord (see Psalm 145:2-3, 8-9, 14). As for myself, I make these requests: Bless the Lord, O house of Aaron and Levi. Bless Him, you ministers of the gospel who prayed for me in my trouble, and have had your prayers granted. Bless the Lord, O house of Israel, and all you people everywhere who sympathized with me, and kindly remembered me in my desolate condition. Bless Him, you old men, that you have gotten so far towards the haven without being thrown into the waves, or without being endangered by the rocks as I have been. Bless Him that you have not met with such violent temptations and great sorrows as I have met with, though I set out long after you did. Bless the Lord, you young men, that you have not been weakened along the way with sore affliction, and with the terrors of the Lord, under which I have groaned for so long. Bless Him, everyone, both small and great, against whom He does not proceed in such smart and severe providences, and in such long and sharp afflictions. Bless Him that you see before your eyes, and to help your faith, a person lately brought from the borders of the grave and of hell -- one for whom you were concerned, and for whom you prayed; one who still needs and begs for your prayers, that he may never come to such a sad and doleful night again.

Brethren Together in Unity

James Buchanan, Comfort in Affliction, pp. 159-160:

As a social being, man is dependent on the society with which he mingles for a very large share of his personal happiness. By sympathy, he is so connected with others, that he must often weep when they weep, and rejoice when they rejoice. By this natural instinct, he shrinks from the contemplation of extreme suffering, and feels his happiness increased by the happiness of those around him; and, by his moral nature, the believer is disqualified from the enjoying the company of the wicked, and yearns after the fellowship of those who have kindred principles and feelings with his own. This is the ground of that strong love which, notwithstanding their petty differences, subsists betwixt all the sincere disciples of Christ on earth. But here the enjoyment of Christian fellowship is marred by various causes, arising from the imperfection both of our present condition, and of our Christian graces; partly by the diversities of opinions which flow from the limited range of our present vision, or the undue influence of prejudice; party by the difficulty of discovering the true followers of Christ in the midst of so many nominal or false professors, and the suspicion, or at least the caution; which frequent disappointment, in this respect, is fitted to inspire; partly, also, by the obstacles which the necessary business of life, or the established distinctions betwixt different classes of men, interpose to that free intercourse on which the enjoyment of society depends; and, most of all, by the weakness of love, both on our part, and on the part of others. But all these impediments to social happiness shall be removed in heaven. There, our little prejudices, whether against persons or parties, shall disappear. There, we shall be in no danger of misplacing our confidence, or of being deceived by hollow professors, but "shall know, even as also we are known." There, if there be not a perfect equality in point of capacity or dignity, there will at least be no pride on the one hand, and no servile fear on the other; and there, above all, love -- pure, generous, disinterested love -- which is the cement of all happy society, shall burn in every bosom, and prompt every word and action. Oh! blessed season, when the strifes of this lower world shall cease, and be forgotten, and when, superior to every prejudice and passion, we shall dwell as brethren together in unity!

How Happy Are Those Who Carry the Psalms in Their Heart!

Henri Nouwen, The Genesee Diary, p. 100:

Many times I have thought: If I am ever sent to prison, if I am ever subjected to hunger, pain, torture, or humiliation, I hope and pray that they let me keep the psalms. The psalms will keep my spirit alive, the psalms will allow me to comfort others, the psalms will prove the most powerful, yes, the most revolutionary weapon against the oppressor and torturer. How happy are those who no longer need books but carry the psalms in their heart wherever they are wherever they go. Maybe I should start learning the psalms by heart so that nobody can take them away from me.

The Best University

Arthur Dent, The Plain Main's Pathway to Heaven, pp. 90-91:

...All things considered, God's children are no losers by their afflictions, but gainers. It is better for them to have them, than to be without them; they are very good for them. For when God's children are chastised, it is as it should be. For to them, the cross is mercy, and loss is gain. Afflictions are their best schooling, and adversity their best university. "It is good for me, saith the holy man of God, that I have been afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes." By his afflictions thereby, he learned much, and became a good scholar in God's book, and well seen in his statutes and laws. He grew to great wisdom and judgment by his chastisements. All things turned about, in God's merciful providence, to his everlasting comfort. For I say again and again, that all things tend to the good of God's chosen people. And therefore, that estate, which God will have his children to be in, is always best for them. Because he, who can best discern what is best, seeth it to be best for them: whether it be sickness or health, poverty or plenty, prison or liberty, prosperity or adversity. For sometimes sickness is better for us than health, and poverty then plenty. Are therefore the children of God sick? it is best for them. Are they poor? it is best for them. Are they in trouble? it is best for them; because their good Father will turn it to the best. H will oftentimes cut us short of our lusts and desires; because he seeth we will bane ourselves with them. He, in fatherly care, will take the knife from us; because he seeth we will hurt ourselves with it. He will keep us short of health and wealth, because he knoweth we will be the worse for them. He will not give us too much ease and prosperity in this world; for he knoweth it will poison us. He will not allow us continual rest, like standing ponds; for then he knoweth we will gather scum and filth. He dealeth fatherly and mercifully with us in all things, even then seeking our greatest good, when we think he doth us most harm. And, to speak all in a word, he bringeth us into troubles and straits, to this end especially, that he may hear of us. For he right well knoweth our nature; he is well acquainted with our disposition. He knoweth we will not come at him, but when we stand in need of him: we care not for him so long as all goeth well with us. But if we come into distress, or want any thing that we would fain have, then he is sure to hear of us. As he saith by the prophet, "In their affliction, they will seek me early," Hosea v. 15. And another prophet saith, "Lord, in trouble have they visited thee. They poured out a prayer, when thy chastisement was upon them," Isa. xxvi. 16. So then now, I hope, you do plainly see the cause why the Lord bringeth his children into so many troubles and necessities.

On Affliction

John Bradford, "On Affliction," in The Writings of John Bradford, Vol. 2, p. 368:

On Affliction

In the midst of my misery
To God will I make my moan,
And patiently abide
Till he shall hear my groan.

And therefore thou enemy
Rejoice not at my fall:
For, through the goodness of my God,
Get up again I shall.

Though now for God's good time
In darkness I do sit,
Yet doubtless will his mercy great
Restore me to his light.

In the meanwhile will I
Myself patiently sustain,
His anger and displeasure eke,
Though it be to my pain:

For I have sinned sore
Against his goodness oft.
Howbeit I know he will eftsoons
Set my poor soul aloft,

To see his light to my comfort
And gladding of my heart,
When without means shall fall
Death his grievous dart.

Comforts in a Box

Ezekiel Culverwell, "Epistle to the Christian Reader" in Richard Sibbes, Divine Meditations and Holy Contemplations, in Sibbes' Works, Vol. 7, pp. 181-184:

As sweet spices yield small savour until they are beaten to powder, so the wonderful works of God are either not at all, or very slightly smelled in the nostrils of man, who is of a dull sense, unless they be rubbed and chafed in the mind, through a fervent affection, and singled out with a particular view; like them which tell money, who look not confusedly at the whole heap, but at the value of every parcel. So then a true Christian must endeavour himself to deliver, not in a gross, but by retail, the millions of God's mercy to his soul; in secret thoughts, chewing the cud of every circumstance with continual contemplation. And as a thrifty gardener, which is loath to see one rose leaf to fall from the stalk without stilling; so the Christian soul is unwilling to pass, or to stifle the 'bed of spices,' in the garden of Christ, without gathering some fruit, Cant. vi. 2, which contain a mystery and hidden virtue; and our 'camphire clusters in the vineyards of Engedi,' Cant. i. 14, must be resolved into drops by the still of meditation, or else they may be noted for weeds in the herbal of men, which hath his full of all kinds. But some are slightly passed over, as the watery herbs of vanity, which grow on every wall of carnal men's hearts, and yield but a slight taste how good the Lord is, or should be to their souls. It therefore behoveth us, first, to mind the tokens of his mercy and love, and afterwards for the helping of our weak digestion, to champ and chew by an often revolution, every part and parcel thereof, before we let it down into our stomachs; that by that means it may effectually nourish every vein and living artery of our soul, and fill them full with the pure blood of Christ's body, the least drop whereof refresheth and cheereth the soul and body of him which is in a swoon through his sin, and maketh him apt to walk and talk as one who is now living in Christ.

By this sweet meditation the soul taketh the key where all her evidences lie, and peruses the bills and articles of covenant agreed and condescended unto between God and man. There she seeth the great grant and pardon of her sins, subscribed unto by God himself, and sealed with the blood of Christ.

There he beholdeth his unspeakable mercy to a prisoner condemned to die, without which at the last in a desperate case he is led and haled unto execution, by the cursed crew of hellish furies.

Here she learneth how the Holy Land is entailed, and retaileth by discourse the descent from Adam, unto Abraham and his son Isaac, and so forward unto all the seed of the faithful. By meditation the soul prieth into the soul, and with a reciprocal judgment examineth herself and every faculty thereof, what she hath, what she wanteth, where she dwelleth, where she removeth, and where she shall be.

By this she feeleth the pulses of God's Spirit beating in here; the suggestions of Satan; the corruptions of her own affections, who like a cruel step-dame mingleth poisons and pestilent things to murder the Spirit, to repel every good motion, and to be in the end the lamentable ruin of the whole man.

Here she standeth, as it were with Saul upon the mountains, beholding the combat between David and Goliath; between the Spirit and the uncircumcised raging of the flesh, the stratagems of Satan, the bootless attempts of the world.

Here appear her own infirmities, her relapses into sin, herself astonied by the buffets of Satan, her fort shrewdly battered by carnal and fleshly lusts, her colours and profession darkened and dimmed through the smoke of affliction, her faith hidden because of such massacres and treasons; her hope banished with her mistrust; herself hovering ready to take flight from the sincerity of her profession.

Here she may discern, as from the top of a mast, an army coming, whose captain is the Spirit, guarded with all his graces; the bloody arms of Christ by him displayed, the trumpets' sound, Satan vanquished, the world conquered, the flesh subdued, the soul received, profession bettered, and each thing restored to his former integrity.

The consideration hereof made Isaac go meditating in the evening, Gen. xxiv. 63.

This caused Hezekiah to 'mourn like a dove, and chatter like a pye' in his heart, in deep silence, Isa. xxxviii. 14.

This forced David to meditate in the morning, nay, all the day long, Ps. lxiii. 6, and cxix. 148th verse, as also by night in 'secret thoughts,' Ps. xvi. 7.

This caused Paul to give Timothy this lesson to meditate, 1 Tim. iv. 13, seq. And God himself commanded Joshua, when he was elected governor, that he should meditate upon the law of Moses both day and night, to the end he might perform the things written therein, Josh. i. 8.

And Moses addeth this clause, teaching the whole law from God himself, 'These words must remain in thy heart, thou must meditate upon them, both at home and abroad, when thou goest to bed, and when thou risest in the morning,' Deut. vi. 7.

This meditation is not a passion of melancholy, nor a fit of fiery love, nor covetous care, nor senseless dumps, but a serious act of the Spirit in the inwards of the soul, whose object is spiritual, whose affection is a provoked appetite to practise holy things; a kindling in us of the love of God, a zeal towards his truth, a healing our benumbed hearts, according to that speech of the prophet, 'My heart did wax hot within me, and fire did kindle in my meditations,' Ps. xxxix.3, the want whereof caused Adam to fall, yea, and all the earth, into utter desolation; for there is no man considereth deeply in his heart, Jer. xii. 16. If Cain had considered the curse of God, and his heavy hand against that grievous and crying sin, he would not have slain his own brother. If Pharaoh would have set his heart to ponder of the mighty hand of God by the plagues already past, he should have prevented those which followed, and have foreslowed his hasted in making pursuit, with the destruction of himself and his whole army.

If Nadab and Abihu had regarded the fire they put in their censers, they might have been safe from the fire of heaven.

To conclude, the want of meditation hath been the cause of so many fearful events, strange massacres, and tragical deaths, which have from time to time pursued the drowsy heart and careless mind; and in these our days is the butchery of all the mischiefs which have already chanced unto our contrymen; for whilst God's judgments are masked, and not presented to the view of the mind by the serious work of the same, though they are keen and sharp, it being sheathed, they seem dull, and of no edge unto us, which causeth us to prick up the feathers of pride and insolency, and to make no reckoning of the fearful and final reckoning which most assuredly will be made, will we, nill, before God's tribunal. Hence it cometh to pass that our English gentlewomen do brave it with such outlandish manners, as though they could dash God out of countenance, or roist it in heaven as they carve it here, so that thousands are carried to hell out of their sweet perfumed chambers, where they thought to have lived, and are snatched presently from their pleasant and odoriferous arbours, dainty dishes, and silken company, to take up their room in the dungeon and lake of hell, which burneth perpetually with fire and brimstone.

And for want of this, God's children go limping in their knowledge, and carry the fire of zeal in a flinty heart, which, unless it be hammered, will not yield a spark to warm and cheer their benumbed and frozen affections towards the worship and service of God, and the hearty embracing of his truth.

By this God's works of creation are slipped over, even 'from the cedar to the hyssop that groweth on the wall,' 1 Kings iv. 33.

The sun, the moon, the stars, shine without admiration; the sea and the earth, the fowls, fishes, beasts, and man himself, are all esteemed as common matters in nature. Thus God worketh those strange creatures without that glory performed which is due, and his children receive not that comfort by the secret meditation of God's creation as they might.

Hence it proceedeth that they are often in their dumps, fearing as though they enjoyed not the light; whereas if they would meditate and judge aright of their estates, they might find they are the sons of God, and heirs of that rich kingdom most apparently known and established in heaven, and shall suddenly possess the same, even then most likely when their flesh thinketh it farthest off; as the heir being being within a month of his age, maketh such a reckoning of his lands that no careful distress can trouble him. But this consideration being partly through Satan's, and partly through their own dulness and over-stupidness, they fare like men in a swoon, and as it were bereaved of the very life of the Spirit, staggering under the burden of affliction, stammering in their godly profession, and cleaving sometimes unto the world. Through this they carry Christ's promises like comforts in a box, or as the chirurgeon his salves in his bosom.

Meditation applieth, meditation healeth, meditation instructeth. If thou lovest wisdom and blessedness, meditate in the law of the Lord day and night, and so make use of these Meditations to quicken thee up to duty, and to sweeten thy heart in thy way to heavenly Jerusalem.

To Every Thing There Is A Season

Richard Sibbes, The Soul's Conflict With Itself, and Victory Over Itself By Faith, in Works, Vol. 1, p. 249:

Though in evil times we have cause to praise God, yet so we are, and such are our spirits, that affliction straitens our hearts. Therefore, the apostle thought it the fittest duty in affliction to pray. 'Is any afflicted? let him pray,' saith James; 'is any joyful? let him sing psalms,' James v. 13; shewing that the day of rejoicing is the fittest day of praising God. Every work of a Christian is beautiful in its own time. The graces of Christianity have their several offices at several seasons. In trouble, prayer is in its season. 'In the evil day call upon me,' saith God, Ps. xci. 15. In better times praises should appear and shew themselves. When God manifests his goodness to his, he gives them grace with it to manifest their thankfulness to him. Praising of God is then most comely, though never out of season, when God seems to call for it by renewing the sense of his mercies in some fresh favour towards us. If a bird will sing in the winter, much more in the spring. If the heart be prepared in the wintertime of adversity to prase God, how ready will it be when it is warmed with the glorious sunshine of his favour!

Our life is nothing but as it were a web woven with interminglings of wants and favours, crosses and blessings, standings and fallings, combat and victory, therefore there should be a perpetual intercourse of praying and praising in our hearts. There is always a ground of communion with God in one of these kinds, till we come to that condition wherein all wants shall be supplied, where indeed is only matter of praise.

Special Suffering

William Henry Green, Conflict and Triumph: The Argument of the Book of Job Unfolded, pp. 63-64:

It is undoubtedly true that where there is no sin there will be no suffering among the subjects of God's moral government. All suffering has sin as its invariable and necessary antecedent. It is also true that the consciousness of sin and ill-desert must for ever close the mouth of every sufferer from any well-grounded complaint against the righteousness of God. The holiest and the best are sinners nevertheless; and, whatever sufferings they may endure in the providence of God, it cannot be said that they are unjustly treated; for, as Zophar states this point in more developed form to Job, 'God exacts from less than your iniquity deserves' (11:6). No man's sufferings in this world are equal to his just deserts.

But, while this is true and incontestable, it does not account for cases of special and extraordinary suffering, and especially such as occur in the experiences of good men such as Job. The general sinfulness of men may account for human sorrows so far as they are uniformly distributed; and a like principle may be applied where they are plainly graduated in proportion to the demerit of the sufferers. But special suffering, not involving special guilt, cannot be thus accounted for. A sinfulness common to all cannot be the reason why one is singled out rather than another, and made to endure extraordinary sorrows.

The special significance of suffering, therefore, remains unexplained. Its importance as a test of character, its value as a means of discipline and training, and the far more exceeding reward by which it shall be abundantly compensated, are not once considered. Eliphaz alleges that man suffers because he is a sinner; he knew not that a man may likewise suffer because he is a saint that he may thus exhibit more distinctly his saintly character; that he may be ripened still more in holiness; and that his final recompense may be proportionally increased. Suffering, to Eliphaz, was ever and only a punishment, a judgment for sin, an infliction of the divine displeasure. He knew not that it might be also a token of love, a means of grace, a blessing in disguise; that whom the LORD loves he chastens, and scourges every son whom he receives.

Where Are My Winged Words?

The following three English translations each add a bit of flavor to the words of an aged patristic theologian and poet, Gregory of Nazianzus (c. 329 - 379/380).

Elizabeth Rundle Charles, The Voice of the Christian Life in Song: Or, Hymns and Hymn-Writers of Many Lands and Ages, pp. 65-67:

One other hymn of Gregory's may be given, at least in part. It is a voice from those eight years which he spent in retirement. When his work was done, the Church of Anastasia had arisen, and father, mother, brother, and sister, all were dead. In the depths of its natural fears, and the firmness of the hope to which at last it rises, it tells the history of those solitary years, and echoes well the music of those ancient psalms, which soar so often "out of the depths" in to the light of God.

To Himself.

Where are the wing'd words? Lost in the air.
Where the fresh flower of youth and glory? Gone.
The strength of well-knit limbs? Brought low by care.
Wealth? Plunder'd; none possess but God alone.
Where those dear parents who my life first gave,
And where that holy twain, brother and sister? In the grave.

My fatherland alone to me is left,
And heaving factions flood my country o'er;
Thus, with uncertain steps, of all bereft,
Exiled and homeless, childless, aged, poor,
No child of mine age to soothe with service sweet,
I live from day to day with ever-wandering feet.

What lies before me? Where shall set my day?
Where shall these weary limbs at length repose?
What hospitable tomb receive my clay?
What eyes will watch me? -- Eyes with pity fraught?
Some friend of Christ? Or those who know Him not?

Or shall no tomb, as in a casket, lock
This frame, when laid a weight of breathless clay?
Cast forth unburied on the desert rock,
Or thrown in scorn to birds and beasts of prey;
Consumed and cast in handfuls on the air,
Left in some river-bed to perish there?

This as Thou wilt, the Day will all unite
Wherever scatter'd, when Thy word is said:
Rivers of fire, abysses without light,
Thy great tribunal, these alone are dread.
And Thou, O Christ, my King, art fatherland to me,
Strength, wealth, eternal rest, yea, all I find in Thee!

Thus, in the old Ionic tongue, the wail of feeble mortality went forth once more, but with a close the old Ionic music never knew; for Christ had died, and risen from the dead, and the other world was a region of melancholy shades no longer, for He is there.

Elizabeth Barret Browning, The Greek Christian Poets and the English Poets, pp. 39-40:

The passage we shall venture to translate, is rather a cry than a song --

Where are my winged words? Dissolved in air.
Where is my flower of youth? All withered. Where
My glory? Vanished. Where the strength I knew
From comely limbs? Disease hath changed it too,
And bent them. Where the riches and the lands?
GOD HATH THEM! Yea, and sinners' snatching hands
Have grudged the rest. Where is my father, mother,
And where my blessed sister, my sweet brother?
Gone to the grave! -- There did remain for me
Alone my fatherland, till destiny,
Malignly stirring a black tempest, drove
My foot from that last rest. And now I rove
Estranged and desolate a foreign shore,
And drag my mournful life and age all hoar
Throneless and cityless, and childless save
This father-care for children, which I have,
Living from day to day on wandering feet.
Where shall I cast this body? What will greet
My sorrows with an end? What gentle ground
And hospitable grave will wrap me round?
Who last my dying eyelids stoop to close--
Some saint, the Saviour's friend? or one of those
Who do not know Him? The air interpose,
And scatter these words too.

Philip Schaff, Christ in Song: Hymns of Immanuel, Selected From All Ages, With Notes, Vol. 2, pp. 233-234:

My Home in Heaven Alone

My home in heaven alone to me remains,
The floods of faction o'er my country sweet;
For my uncertain feet, the land retains
No resting-place, no friend to weep;
No child to soothe the homeless poor forlorn;
I wander day by day with trembling limbs and torn.

What lot awaits me? What my mortal doom?
Where shall this jaded body find its rest?
Shall this poor trembling flesh e'er find a tomb?
By whom shall these dim eyes in death be blest?
Will any watch? Will any pity me?
Will they be Christian watchers? Or shall sinners see?

Or shall no grave inclose this mortal frame,
When laid a heavy breathless corpse of clay?
Cast on the rock uncovered and in shame,
Or tossed in scorn to birds and beasts of prey?
Or burnt to ashes, given to the air?
Or thrown into the weedy deep to perish there?

Thy will be done, O Lord! That day shall spring,
When at Thy word this clay shall re-appear!
No death I dread but that which sin will bring;
No fire or flood without Thy wrath I fear;
For Thou, O Christ, my Lord! art fatherland to me,
My wealth and might and rest; my all I find in Thee.

A Prayer for Reformation of Life

Augustine, The Meditations of St. Augustine, pp. 9-11:

A Prayer for Reformation of Life

Inspire my soul, O Lord my God, with a holy desire of thee, my chief, my only good, that I may so earnestly desire as diligently to seek thee, so successfully seek as to be happy in finding thee; make me so sensible of that happiness in finding, as most passionately to love thee; so effectually to express that love, as to make some amends for my past wickedness, by hating and forsaking my former evil courses, and entering upon a conversation exemplarily pious for the time to come.

Give me, dear God, hearty repentance, an humble and contrite spirit; make my eyes a fountain of tears, and my hands liberal dispensers of alms, and unwearied instruments of good works. Thou art my King; reign absolute in my heart, subdue and expel thence all rebellious passions; quench all the impure burnings of fleshly lusts, and kindle in it the bright fire of thy love.

Thou art my Redeemer, beat down and drive out the spirit of pride, and impart to me, in much mercy, the treasure of thy own unexampled humility and wonderful condescension.

Thou art my Saviour, take from me the rage of anger; and arm, I beseech thee, with the shield of patience.

Thou art my Creator, root out from me all that rancour and malice whereby my nature is corrupted; and implant in me all that sweetness and gentleness of temper, which may render me a man made in thy own image, and after the likeness of thy own Divine goodness.

Thou [art] my most merciful and indulgent Father, O grant thy own child those best of gifts; a firm and right faith, a stedfast and well-grounded hope, and a never-failing charity.

O my director and governor, turn away from me, I beseech thee, vanity and filthiness of mind, a wandering heart, a scurrilous tongue, a proud look, a gluttonous belly; preserve me from the venom of slander and detraction, from the itch of curiosity, from the thirst of covetousness, ambition and vain-glory; from the deceits of hypocrisy, the secret poison of flattery; from contempt of the poor, and oppression of the helpless; from the canker of envy, the fever of avarice, and the pestilential disease of blasphemy and prophaneness.

Prune away my superfluity of naughtiness, and purge me from all manner of injustice, rashness, and obstinancy; from impatience, blindness of heart, and cruelty of disposition.

Incline me to obey that which is good, and to comply with wholesome advice; enable me to bridle my tongue, and to contain my hands from wrong and robbery. Suffer me not to insult the poor, to defame the innocent, to despise my inferiors, to treat my servants with severity and scorn, to fail in due affection towards my friends and relations, or in kindness and compassion towards my neighbors and acquaintance.

O my God, thou fountain of mercy, I beg thee, for the sake of the Son of thy love, dispose me to the love and practice of kindness and mercy; that I may have a tender fellow-feeling of my brethren's afflictions; and apply myself cheerfully to rectify their mistakes, to relieve their miseries, to supply their wants, to comfort their sorrows; to assist the oppressed, to right the injured, to sustain the needy, to cherish the dejected, to release them that are indebted to me, to pardon them that have offended me, to love them that hate me, to render good for evil, to despise none, but pay all due respect to every man. Give me grace to imitate those that live well, to avoid and beware of them that do ill; to follow all manner of virtue, and utterly abandon and detect all sort of vice; make me patient in adversity, and moderate in prosperity. Set a watch before my mouth, and keep the door of my lips: (Ps. cxli. 3) Wean my affections from things below, and let them be eager and fixed upon heaven and heavenly things.

Prayer for Comfort in Adversity

Johann Gerhard, Meditations on Divine Mercy, pp. 121-122:

Prayer For Comfort in Adversity and True Peace of Conscience

O KINDEST FATHER, God of all hope and comfort (2 Corinthians 1:3), grant to me life-giving comfort and true peace of conscience in all the difficulties of life. My heart is full of anxieties, but Your comforts are able to delight my soul (Psalm 94:19). All the comfort of the world is empty and futile. In You alone is strength and support for my soul. All sorts of misfortunes weigh heavy on me, but Your encouragement and comfort lighten the burden. Nothing in all creation can bring me down and sadden me so much that You cannot gladden me by Your Spirit of joy (Psalm 51:12). No adversities can so surround and capture me that my heart cannot be freed by Your grace. The heat of various afflictions harasses me, but the taste of Your sweetness brings me cool consolation. The tears stream from my eyes, but Your gracious hand wipes them away (Revelation 7:17). Just as You allowed Stephen, the first martyr, to see Your gracious face even as he was being stoned (Acts 7:56), so also You allow me, wretch that I am, the full enjoyment of Your comfort though I am surrounded by misfortune. Just as You sent a consoling angel to Your Son in the most bitter agony of death (Luke 22:43), so also You send me Your sustaining Spirit in my struggle. Without Your strength, I would break under the weight of the cross. Without Your help, I would be destroyed by the attack of numerous adversities.

Extinguish in me the love of the world and created things so the misfortunes of the world and the changeableness of created things will bring me no bitterness. Those who in their hearts cling to the world and created things will never be able to partake of true and undisturbed peace. All earthly things are subject to the continual variations of change. Those who do not cling with undue love to the things of this present life will not be tormented by overwhelming anxiety when these things are lost. Please, O God, cast out the love and desire of the world so that as You filled the widow's jar through the prophet Elijah, the soul forsaken of earthly comfort may be filled with the oil of joy (2 Kings 4:3; Psalm 45:7). All earthly things may be thrown into disorder, changed, and rolled back and forth, but You are the immovable rock and most solid stone of my soul. Can a beggarly and weak "thing" disturb the peace of the soul that I possess, that is sure and immovable in You (Psalm 73:25)? Can the waves of the world, even of its most turbulent seas, overthrow the rock of my heart (Psalm 18:2; 19;14), which I have firm in You, the highest and unchangeable good? Surely Your peace surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7). That same peace also will overcome every attack of misfortune. I beg You with humble sighs for that inner peace.

AMEN.

God Gave to Me a Child in Part

For fathers and their loved ones.

An earlier draft of this poem (which exists in manuscript at Yale's Edwin J. Beinecke Collection of Robert Louis Stevenson Papers) contained 42 lines, seven of which were crossed out. The final version, published after Stevenson's death, contains 16 lines.

Robert Louis Stevenson, God Gave to Me a Child in Part:

God gave to me a child in part,
Yet wholly gave the father's heart:
Child of my soul, O whither now,
Unborn, unmothered, goest thou?

You came, you went, and no man wist;
Hapless, my child, no breast you kist;
On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb,
Nor knew the kindly feel of home.

My voice may reach you, O my dear-
A father's voice perhaps the child may hear;
And, pitying, you may turn your view
On that poor father whom you never knew.

Alas! alone he sits, who then,
Immortal among mortal men,
Sat hand in hand with love, and all day through
With your dear mother wondered over you.

How Grief May Be Sanctified

J.I. Packer, A Grief Observed: Through Sorrow to Eternal Hope, Including Richard Baxter's Timeless Memoir of His Wife's Life and Death, pp. 168-169:

Grief -- the experiential, emotional fruit of the bereavement event -- is, as we have seen, a state of desolation and isolation, of alternating apathy and agony, of inner emptiness and exhaustion. How may such a condition be sanctified -- that is, managed, lived with, and lived through in a way that honors God? No Puritan to my knowledge addresses the question in this form, but the Puritan answer would be this:

Starting from where you are, do what you can (it may not be much at first) to move toward the thanksgiving, submission, and patience of which we have just heard.

Do not let your grief loosen your grip on the goodness and grace of your loving Lord.

Cry (for there is nothing biblical or Christian, or indeed human, about the stiff upper lip).

Tell God your sadness (several of the psalms, though not written about bereavement, will supply words for the purpose).

Pray as you can, and don't pray as you can't. (That bit of wisdom is not original to me, nor was it distilled in a grief-counseling context, but it is very apropos here).

Avoid well-wishers who think they can cheer you up, but thank God for any who are content to be with you and do things for you without talking at you.

Talk to yourself (or, like Richard, write) about the loved one you lost.

Do not try to hurry your way out of the inner weakness you feel; grieving takes time.

Look to God as thankfully, submissively, and patiently as you can (and he will understand if you have to tell him that you cannot really do this yet).

Feel, acknowledge, and face, consciously and from your heart, all the feelings that you find in yourself at present, and the day will come when you find yourself able, consciously and from your heart, to live to God daily in thanksgiving, submission, and patient hope once again -- as did Richard, and [C.S.] Lewis, and millions more.

Grieving properly leads back to thinking properly, living properly, and praising properly. God sees to that! "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted" (Matt. 5:4).

The Ageless Psalms for the Church in All Ages

William Perkins, Commentary on Hebrews 11.9-10:

The Book of Psalms was penned by David, Asaph, Moses and others, and in several ages and states of the church, and were appointed to be sung then, for the present state of the church in those days. It may therefore be demanded: Why then do we sing them now in our churches? The answer is: the church in all ages consists of a number of believers, and the faith is always one, and makes all that apprehend God’s promises to be alike to one another in grace, in meditations, in dispositions, in affections, in desires, in spiritual wants, in the feeling and use of afflictions, in course and conversation of life, and in performance of duties to God and man; and therefore the same psalms, prayers and meditations, are now as fit for the church in these days, and are said and sung with the same use and profit, as in the church in those days when they were first made.

Cowper's Grave

Reflections at the graveside of one -- English poet William Cowper, famous for composing, among other things, the lines "Judge not the LORD by feeble sense, / But trust him for his grace; / Behind a frowning providence, / He hides a smiling face." -- who suffered greatly with depression in this life, and the joy reserved for him upon his translation. HT: Jonathan Hunt.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, The Seraphim and Other Poems in The Complete Poetical Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, pp. 58-60:

COWPER’S GRAVE

I.
It is a place where poets crowned may feel the heart's decaying;
It is a place where happy saints may weep amid their praying;
Yet let the grief and humbleness as low as silence languish:
Earth surely now may give her calm to whom she gave her anguish.

II.
O poets, from a maniac's tongue was poured the deathless singing!
O Christians, at your cross of hope a hopeless hand was clinging!
O men, this man in brotherhood your weary paths beguiling,
Groaned inly while he taught you peace, and died while ye were smiling!

III.
And now, what time ye all may read through dimming tears his story,
How discord on the music fell and darkness on the glory,
And how when, one by one, sweet sounds and wandering lights departed,
He wore no less a loving face because so broken-hearted,

IV.
He shall be strong to sanctify the poet's high vocation,
And bow the meekest Christian down in meeker adoration;
Nor ever shall he be, in praise, by wise or good forsaken,
Named softly as the household name of one whom God hath taken.

V.
With quiet sadness and no gloom I learn to think upon him,
With meekness that is gratefulness to God whose heaven hath won him,
Who suffered once the madness-cloud to His own love to blind him,
But gently led the blind along where breath and bird could find him;

VI.
And wrought within his shattered brain such quick poetic senses
As hills have language for, and stars, harmonious influences:
The pulse of dew upon the grass kept his within its number,
And silent shadows from the trees refreshed him like a slumber.

VII.
Wild timid hares were drawn from woods to share his home-caresses,
Uplooking to his human eyes with sylvan tendernesses:
The very world, by God's constraint, from falsehood's ways removing,
Its women and its men became, beside him, true and loving.

VIII.
And though, in blindness, he remained unconscious of that guiding,
And things provided came without the sweet sense of providing,
He testified this solemn truth, while phrenzy desolated,
—Nor man nor nature satisfies whom only God created.

IX.
Like a sick child that knoweth not his mother while she blesses
And drops upon his burning brow the coolness of her kisses,—
That turns his fevered eyes around—“My mother! where's my mother?”—
As if such tender words and deeds could come from any other!—

X.
The fever gone, with leaps of heart he sees her bending o'er him,
Her face all pale from watchful love, the unweary love she bore him!
Thus woke the poet from the dream his life's long fever gave him,
Beneath those deep pathetic Eyes which closed in death to save him.

XI.
Thus? oh, not thus! no type of earth can image that awaking,
Wherein he scarcely heard the chant of seraphs, round him breaking,
Or felt the new immortal throb of soul from body parted,
But felt those eyes alone, and knew—“My Saviour! not deserted!”

XII.
Deserted! Who hath dreamt that when the cross in darkness rested,
Upon the Victim's hidden face no love was manifested?
What frantic hands outstretched have e'er the atoning drops averted?
What tears have washed them from the soul, that one should be deserted?

XIII.
Deserted! God could separate from His own essence rather;
And Adam's sins have swept between the righteous Son and Father:
Yea, once, Immanuel's orphaned cry His universe hath shaken—
It went up single, echoless, “My God, I am forsaken!”

XIV.
It went up from the Holy's lips amid His lost creation,
That, of the lost, no son should use those words of desolation!
That earth's worst phrenzies, marring hope, should mar not hope's fruition,
And I, on Cowper's grave, should see his rapture in a vision.

Mourners in Zion, Be Comforted!

James Buchanan, Comfort in Affliction: A Series of Meditations, pp. 9-14:

Mourners in Zion, be comforted! if yours be a life of sorrow, yours also is a religion of hope. If the book of Providence seems to you to be "written within and without," like Ezekiel's roll, in characters of "lamentation, and mourning, and woe," the Bible is filled with consolation and peace; and the more stormy your passage through this world, the more awful God's judgments, the more severe and confounding your trials and bereavements may be, the more should that blessed books be endeared to your hearts of which every true disciple will say, with the afflicted Psalmist, "This is my comfort in mine affliction."

It is not one of the least benefits of severe affliction, that it shatters our confidence in every other stay, and breaks up our hopes from every other quarter, and leads us, in simplicity, to search the Word of God for comfort; nor is it one of the least recommendations of that precious book, that is characters become more bright in proportion as all else around us is dark, and that, when all other information becomes insipid or nauseous, its truths are rendered only the more sweet and refreshing by the bitter draught of sorrow. The Bible cannot be known in its excellence, nor its truths relished in their sweetness, nor its promises duly appreciated and enjoyed, until, by adversity, all other consolation is lost, and all other hopes destroyed; but then, when we carry it with us into the firey furnace of affliction, like the aromatic plant, which must be burnt before the precious perfume is felt, it emits a refreshing fragrance, and is relished in proportion as our sufferings are great. Glorious peculiarity! other books may amuse the hours of ease; other knowledge may suffice to pass the short day of prosperity, but this book only is for the hour of sorrow; this knowledge comes to my aid when all other knowledge fails; and, like the sweet stars of heaven, the truths of God shine most brightly in the darkest night of sorrow.

And why is it so? Is it because the Bible denies the existence of sorrow and suffering? or, because it represents the afflictions of life as being few in number, or easy to be borne? Does it seek to withdraw our attention from them? or, does it ridicule the feelings which such afflictions awaken, and enjoin a heartless indifference to whatever may befall us? Does it mock the friendships of nature, and scorn our feelings when these friendships are broken up by bereavement? God forbid! On the contrary, the Bible proceeds on the assumption that sorrow and suffering prevail in the world; that all, without exception, are liable to their depressing influence, and, so far from representing them as being few in number, or easy to be borne, it presents a picture of human life, which, in the season of youth and hope, many may be disposed to regard as gloomy and exaggerated, but which, in the hour of sorrow, comes home to the heart as the only faithful representation of this state of trial. It declares to every disciple, that in "the world he shall have tribulation," and that, although "troubles springs not from the dust, nor sorrow from the ground, yet man is born to sorrow as the sparks fly upwards." Nor does it seek to withdraw our attention from the afflictions of life; on the contrary, it presses them on our regard; it declares them to be a proper and salutary subject of contemplation, and affirms, "that it is better to go to the house of mourning, than to the house of mirth." And, in doing so, it is far from enjoining us to contemplate any scene of sorrow, with heartless indifference, or stoical unconcern. That religion which commands us to "weep with those who weep," cannot be supposed to condemn the tears which we shed over our own sorrows or bereavements; nor can its Divine Author, who wept over the grave of Lazarus, be regarded as the pattern of his people, if, unlike him, they are to derive their support in the hour of sorrow from the suppression of those feelings which nature prompts, and of those tears which nature sheds, over the grave of friendship. And if stoical apathy and indifference be not enjoined, far less does the Bible sanction or countenance that bitter ridicule of human suffering, and that sarcastic contempt of human life, which, in the madness of despair, some have been tempted to indulge, and which has led them to strip man of his rightful dignity, and life of its due importance, and to regard the chequered scene of his existence with misanthropic bitterness, and even the last tragic scene of dissolution with morbid unconcern. Ah! little would such a scheme have suited the hearts which God hath given us! but the Bible breathes the spirit of compassion over all our sorrows; its Divine Author sympathizes with us in the lowest depths of our afflictions; he ridicules not even the weakness of nature, but tenderly upbinds the heart when it bleeds; for, "even as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him," and that divine pity breathes throughout every page of Scripture.

The grand peculiarity of the Bible, as a book of consolation, is, that while it seeks not to cast our sufferings into the shade, but rather sets them before us in all their variety and magnitude, it teaches us to find consolation in the midst of acknowledged sorrow, and causes light to arise out of the deepest darkness. In many respects, it gives a more gloomy view of human life than we are ofttimes willing to entertain. It represents affliction as ordained for us, and appointed so that it cannot be escaped. It tells us that our future life will be chequered with trials, even as the past has been. It gives no assurance of respite from suffering, so long as we are in this world. And, when it traces these afflictive events to their causes, -- when it represents suffering as the fruit and the wages of sin, -- when it charges us with guilt, and affirms that we have provoked the Lord to anger, -- when it leads us to regard our sorrows as connected with our characters, and inflicted by a righteous governor and judge, -- and when, carrying our eye beyond this world altogether, it points to an eternal state of retribution, where sorrows infinitely more severe, and judgments infinitely more confounding, await impenitent and unforgiven guilt, -- it does present such a view of our present condition and future prospects, as may well fill us with awe and alarm; -- and yet still it is the book of consolation; still it contains the elements of peace, the seed of hope, the well-spring of eternal joy. It is out of the very darkness of our present state and our eternal prospects, that the brightness of that dawn appears which shall issue in everlasting day; the golden rays of divine light and love appear in the midst of that thick cloud; the cup of bitterness is sweetened by an infusion of mercy, so that the Christian can be "joyful in the midst of tribulation," and "greatly rejoice, though now, for a season, if need be, he is in heaviness, through manifold temptations."

For, while the Bible spreads out to our view the whole scene of human life, chequered with every variety of shade, it raises our eye above it, and reveals a superhuman and spiritual System, which stretches over and comprehends every part of it, -- a System founded on principles which are as fixed as the incidents of human life are fluctuating, -- a System which overrules every event that may happen, and determines them all, however casual they may seem to be, to some great and lofty end, -- a System which, although in its immensity it is incomprehensible, and, in many of its bearings, mysterious, is, nevertheless, when in any measure understood, a great and lofty System, and obscure only because of its transcendent grandeur, -- which gives stability to what was before uncertain, and throws light on what was formerly dark, and imparts regularity and order to what might otherwise seem to be a world not only of vicissitude, but of chance. It is by revealing this spiritual and superhuman System, that the Bible seeks to elevate our minds out of the depression which the present aspects of the world might occasion; not by concealing the dark aspect of "things seen and temporal;" not by disputing the reality of those afflictions which we feel, and underrating their magnitude, but by showing us their necessity and suitableness, as means under a higher economy than that of the present life -- an economy which stretches from eternity to eternity -- which comprehends in its courses all orders of creatures, and every class of events, and which controls and overrules them all for the promotion of an end worthy of the magnitude of the scheme, and infinitely important to ourselves.

A Help to Stay the Heart

John Flavel, A Saint Indeed (Keeping the Heart), in Works, Vol. 5, p. 444:

Help 7. Again, It may stay thy heart, if thou consider, That in these troubles, God is about that work, which if thou didst see the design thereof, thy soul would rejoice. We, poor creatures, are bemisted with much ignorance, and are not able to discern how particular providences work towards God's end; and therefore, like Israel in the wilderness, are often murmuring, because Providence leads us about in a howling desert, where we are exposed to straits; though yet, then he led them, and is now leading us, by the right way, to a city of habitations. If you could but see how God, in his secret counsel, hath exactly laid the whole plot and design of thy salvation, even to the smallest means and circumstances; this way, and by these means such a one shall be saved, and by no other; such a number of afflictions I appoint for this man, at this time, and in this order; they shall befal him thus, and thus they shall work for him: Could you, I say, but discern the admirable harmony of divine dispensations, their mutual relations to each other, together with the general respect and influence they all have unto the last end; of all the conditions in the world, you would chuse that you are now in, had you liberty to make your own choice. Providence is like a curious piece of arras, made up of a thousand shreds, which single we know not what to make of, but put together, and stitched up orderly, they represent a beautiful history to the eye. As God works all things according to the counsel of his own will, so that the counsel of God hath ordained this as the best way to bring about thy salvation; Such a one hath a proud heart, so many humbling providences I have appointed for him: such a one an earthly heart, so many impoverishing providences for him: Did you but see this, I need say no more to support the most dejected heart.

New Year's Psalm

Friedrich W. Krummacher, Friedrich Wilhelm Krummacher: An Autobiography, pp. 332-333 (from a sermon preached on January 1, 1868, eight days after the death of his wife):

What a lovely harmony of sweet music has echoed forth from the psalm which I have just read! [Ps. 23] It is a genuine New Year's psalm. Let us enter for a little into the region of its divine thoughts! The psalter was the prayer-book of Him who is our only consolation in life and in death, so long as He, the Son of Man, sojourned on this earth. It is David, from whose heart, enlightened and moved by the Spirit of God, this psalm welled forth; not David, the sunburnt shepherd-boy, amind his peaceful flocks of sheep and lambs, but the grey-haired old man amid the sorrows of life. He sang it when billows of affliction were rolling over his head. He realized as true the saying of the apostle, that "no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous." The sun of consolation may not be altogether set, shrouding the heart of the believer in total darkness, but yet it may only shine upon him through a veil of dark clouds. Joyful confidence may not be for the time present with us yet -- Oh, God is faithful!

David sang his song at a time when, after many conflicts and storms and trials, a period of rest, a time of quickening, was again granted to him. Then, he sang it, looking back at what he had experienced, to the praise of Him who in all his misery had not neglected him, and to the comfort of all his fellow-pilgrims on the narrow way. The Lord will not forsake them, as He had not forsaken him. We shall, in the course of our observations on this precious heart-effusion, simply consider the verses in succession. They are to me what the firmly-rooted stem, around which it twines, is to the ivy branch when the tempest blows. May they be helpful to you all in entering on and in passing through this new year in peace!

A Prayer for Difficult Times

Simon Patrick, The Works of Symon Patrick, Vol. 9, pp. 317-319:

A Private Prayer to be Used in Difficult Times

O ALMIGHTY GOD, who art the refuge and strength of all those that truly fear thee, and put their trust in thee; we thy servants, who have had long experience of thy goodness, and found thee a present help in the needful time of trouble, most earnestly flee unto thy infinite mercies, to implore thy grace and favour towards us in this distressed church: who know not what to do, but only lift up our eyes unto thee, from whom cometh our salvation.

Our sins indeed testify against us, that we justly deserve to be forsaken by thee, and given up as a prey to those that hate us. For we have done very wickedly, and been so far from bringing forth the fruits of the gospel of thy grace, (which we have long enjoyed in its purity,) that too many of us have turned it into wantonness, and the best of us have not been so zealous of good works as our most holy religion and the singular benefits we have enjoyed by it required from us.

Our contempt or neglect of thy divine service, our unrighteousness and uncharitableness one towards another, our riot and intemperance, our filthiness and uncleanness, our insensibleness of our brethren's miseries, and all our other high provocations call for vengeance upon us. And it is of thy mere mercy, thy longsuffering mercy, that we are not already laid waste, and made the scorn and derision of those who are round about us.

Unto that inconceivable mercy and most tender compassion we still betake ourselves, and sue for further patience and forbearance towards us; beseeching thee with earnest cries, Spare us,' good Lord, spare thy people, and give us not up unto a reproach.

Remember not our sins nor our transgressions, but according to thy mercy remember thou us for thy goodness' sake, O Lord.For thy name's sake pardon our iniquity, though it be great.

Look upon our affliction and our trouble, and forgive all our sin.

Consider our enemies, for they are many; and they hate us with a cruel hatred. But do not thou forsake us, O Lord; O our God, be not thou far from us: but preserve us in the free and undisturbed profession of thy holy religion, here established among us.

Suffer not the doctrine of the gospel to be here again corrupted, thy worship and service adulterated, the holy communion of Christ's body and blood depraved and maimed, the just rights and liberties of this church to be oppressed by any of those who have evil will unto it.

But preserve us, O Lord, from their evil designs, for thy mercy's sake, for thy holy truth's sake, (here reformed from many superstitions wherewith it was defiled,) for the sake of thy faithful people, who cry day and night unto thee, for the sake of Jesus Christ, who died for us, and suffered upon the cross to testify to that truth which we maintain, whom we own for our only Mediator and Advocate, whose sacrifice, once offered, we believe to be an all-sufficient satisfaction for us; whose merits alone we mention to thee, and depend upon; by whose agony and bloody sweat, his cross and passion, resurrection and intercession, we beg to be delivered by thee.

Deny not, blessed Lord, the suits of such supplicants; let them never be put to confusion, but deliver them in thy righteousness; bow down thy ears unto them, and make haste to deliver them.Be thou their strong rock and house of defence, that thou mayest save them.

And for that end, stir up the hearts of all thy people to be more than ordinary zealous in their religion, more fervent and frequent in prayers and supplications, more serious in their repentance and humiliations; more constant and devout in receiving the holy communion ; more strict and careful in their whole Christian conversation.

Endue all the ministers of our religion with integrity, wisdom, and courage. Bless their labours, and protect them in the faithful discharge of their duty. And give all the people grace to follow their godly instructions, that they may be preserved from all dangerous errors and delusions.

Quicken the magistrates in their several places to maintain truth as well as execute justice.

Restore a happy unity among us, that we may standfast in one spirit, with one mind, striving together for the faith of the gospel.

And let it not be in the power of any of our enemies to overthrow that blessed work of reformation of religion which was brought about by the long study, and labours, and prayers, and sufferings, and blood of many of thy faithful servants; but perfect and complete it, we beseech thee, by making us all so sensible of the inestimable value of that blessing, that it may be more and more effectual in the reformation of all our lives.

Continue thy protection also over all other reformed churches, which, hitherto, are in safety. And where they are laid waste graciously restore them, after they have suffered a while with patience, to their lost liberties and enjoyments.

Hear their cry, O Lord, and arise for the sighing of these poor distressed Christians; and set them in safety from those who swell against them.

Let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end, and establish thou the just.

Break the arm of wicked and evil men; seek out their wickedness till thou find none.

So we thy people and sheep of thy pastures will give thee thanks for ever; we will show forth thy praise to all generations, saying,

Blessed be the Lord God our Saviour and Deliverer, who only doth wondrous things.

And blessed be his glorious name forever, and let the whole earth be filled with his glory, Amen and Amen.

That We Might Love God More, Self Less

Edward Reynolds, Meditations on the Rising and Fall of Peter in Works, Vol. 4, p. 13:

Meditation VII

I cannot wonder that Peter should fall off, being tempted, who is already, though unquestioned, so far behind; that he should tremble at the terror of death, who cannot endure the trouble of a watch. He must learn more to deny himself, before he can take up his cross. The nights of a resolved martyr must be spent in the studies of patience, not in security and ease; he must first be a persecutor of himself, and exercise a holy cruelty on his own flesh, by crucifying the lusts thereof, before he can be able to overcome the wit, and most exquisite inventions of his tormentors, in a holy and undaunted patience. The soul must be first raised unto heaven, before the body can be willing to go down into the earth. Had Peter watched and accompanied his Master, he might have received further encouragement in his resolution to die for him, and learned from the extremity of his anguish, if not to hate life, which could make a man subject to such expressless sorrow; yet at least willingly to embrace the present opportunity of glorifying God by a constant death; even for this respect, that thereby he might be freed from the capacity and danger of those afflictions, which he should there have seen flesh and blood liable unto. Of how many precious occasions of good, does the too great love of our flesh and ease deprive us! Every man would love God more, if he could be more out of love with himself.