15. For the Elect serve the Creator of things, and yet are often driven to straits by the want of things; they hold fast in God by love, and yet they lack the supports of the pre- sent life. So they who do not aim at present objects by their actions, as to the profits of the world, spend ' months of vanity.' Moreover they are subject to ' wearisome nights,' in that they bear the darkness of adversity not only to the extent of want, but oftentimes to the anguish of the body. For to undergo contempt and want is not hard to virtuous minds; but when adversity is turned to the paining of the flesh, then surely wearisomeness is felt from pain. It may also be not unsuitably interpreted, that each one of the Saints as a hireling spends ' months of vanity,' in that he now already bears the toil, but does not yet hold the reward; the one he undergoes, the other he looks for; but ' he numbers him wearisome nights,' in that by exercising himself in virtuous habits, he is accumulating upon his own head the ills of the present life: for if he does not aim to advance in spirit, he finds the things of the world perchance less gall- ing to him.
Alleg. 16. Yet, if this sentence be referred to the voice of Holy Church, the meaning thereof is traced out with a little more particularity. For she herself has * months of vanity,' who in her weak members has to bear earthly actions running on to nought without the meed of life. She ' numbers to her- self wearisome nights,' in that in her strong members she bears manifold afflictions. For in this life there be some things that are hard, and some that are empty, and some that are both hard and empty at one and the same time. For from love of the Creator to be tried with the afflictions of the present life, is hard indeed, but not empty. For love of the present world to be dissolved in ])leasures, is empty indeed, but not hard. But for the love of that world, to be Vanity of this ivorld's toil not seen till at last. 427 exjDosed to any adversities, is at one and the same time both Book empty and laborious, in that the soul is at once afflicted by - adversity, and not replenished with the compensation of the reward. And so in those who being now^ placed within the pale of Holy Church, still let themselves out in the pursuit of their pleasures, and are thenceforth not enriched with the fruit of good works, she passes ' months of vanity,' in that she spends the periods of life without the gift of the reward. But in those who, being devoted to everlasting aims, meet with the crosses of this world, ' she numbers herself wearisome nights,' in that she as it were in the obscurity of the present life undergoes the darkness of woe. But in those who at one and the same time love this transitory world, and yet are wearied with its contradiction, she sustains at once ' days of vanity,' and * wearisome nights,' in that neither does any recompense coming after reward their lives, and yet present affliction straitens them. But it is rightly that she never says that she has ' days,' but ' months of vanity' in these. For by the name of ^ months,' the sum and total amount of days is represented, and so by the * day,' w^e have each individual action set forth: but by ' months,' the con- clusion of those actions is implied. But it often happens that when we do any thingin this world, being buoyed up by the eager intentness of our hope, this particular thing that we are about, we never think empty; but when we are come to the end of our doings, failing to obtain the object of our aims, we are grieved that we have been labouring for emptiness, and so we spend not only days, but likewise ' months of vanity,' in that not in the beginning of our actions, but only at the end, we bethink ourselves that we have been toiling in earthly practices with- out fruit. For when trouble follow^ s upon our actions, it is as if the months of vanity of our life were brought home to us: in that it is only in the consummation of our actions that we leam, how vain was all our toil therein.
17. But because in the sacred word sometimes ' night' is put for ignorance, according to the testimony of Paul, who saith to his disciples instructed in the life to come. Ye are i Thess. all the children of the light, and the children of the day; ^' ^' tve are not of the niyht, nor of darkness. To which words he prefixed, But ye, brethren, are not in darkness, that that ib. 4.
428 The Penitent number their past times of vanity.
Job 7, day should overtake you as a thief. In this place the voice — 1-1-1- of Holy Church may be understood in the person of those of ' her members, who after the darkness of their state of igno- rance are brought back to the love of righteousness, and being enlightened by the rays of truth, u^ash out with their tears all that they have done amiss. For every one that has been enlightened looks back to see how polluted all that was that he laboured at, in love with the present life. And therefore Holy Church in the case of these, in whom there is a return to life, compares her toils to ' a servant' in a state of heat, and to ' an hireling longing for the end of his work,' in the words. As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling lookethfor the end of his work; so am I made to possess months of vatiiiy, and wearisome nights have I numbered me. For in drawing the comparison there are two things which he premised, as also in the describing of weariness there are two which he thereupon added. For to the one oppressed with heat he gave ' months of vanity,' in that in proportion as the refreshing of eternity is more the object of our desire, it is more clearly seen how vainly we spend our labour for this life But to the one in expectance he brought in ' wearisome nights,' in that the more that at the end of our works we look at the reward we are to have given us, the more we lament that we so long knew nothing of the thing that we now aim at. And hence the very solicitude of the penitent is carefully set forth, so that it is said, ' that he numbered to himself wearisome nights,' in that the more truly we return to God, the more exactly we consider, while we grieve over them, those toils which we underwent in this world from ignorance. For as every one finds that to become more and more sweet which he desires of the things of eter- nity, so that which he was undergoing for the love of the present world, is made appear to him proportionably bur- thensome. Now if the following words be considered with reference to the historical import alone, doubtless we have the mind of one in sorrow described by them, viz, how in the different impulses of desire he is variously urged by the force of grief. For it goes on, Vcr. 4. When I lie down, 1 say, When shall 1 arise? and again I look for the evening.
Man clothed in corruption since the Fall. 429 18. For in the night, day is desired, in the day, evening is Book longed for; in that grief will not let the things that are before us give satisfaction, and while it saddens the heart in the ^^' experience of the present, it is ever stretching it to some- thing beyond in expectation, as it were by a consolatory longing. But because at one and the same time the afflicted mind is drawn out in desire, and yet its grief, even though beguiled by longings, is not ended; it is rightly added, And I shall he filled with pains even until the darkness. But the cause of this grief is set forth, when the words are im- mediately introduced, Ver. 5. Ml/ flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust: my skin is dried up and shrunken.
19. But we shall make out these words more exactly x. and more applicably, if we go back to the order of the fore- going interpretation. For by sleep the torpor of inaction, and by rising the exercising of action, is represented, hy the name of the evening moreover, because it accords with sleep, we have set forth again the desire of inaction. But Holy Church, as long as she is leading a life of corruption, never ceases to bewail the inconveniences of her condition of mutability. For man was created for this end, that, with mind erect, he might mount to the citadel of contemplation, and that no touch of corruption should cause him to swerve from the love of his Maker; but herein, that he moved the foot of his will to transgression, turning it away from the innate stedfastness of his standing, he immediately fell away from the love of his Creator into himself Yet in forsaking the love of God, that true stronghold of his standing, he could not stand fast in himself either; in that by the impulse of a slippery condition of mutability, being precipitated beneath himself through corruption, he also came to be at strife with himself. And now, in that he is not secured by the stedfastness of his creation, he is ever being made to vary by the fit of alternating desire, so that both at rest he longs for action, and when busied pants for rest. For because the stedfast mind, when it might have stood, would not, it is now no longer able to stand even when it will, in that in leaving the contemplation of its Creator, it lost the strength of its health, and wherever placed is ever seeking some other 430 Restless state of man. Niglit of trouble even desired.
Job 7, place through uneasiness. And so in setting forth the fickle- v-^-^ — ness of the human ini^nd, let him say, When I go to sleep, I say. When shall I arise? and again I shall look for the evening. As if it were expressed in plain words; ' Nothing it receives suiSceth the mind, in that it has lost Him, Who might have truly sufficed to it. Thus in sleep I long for rising, and at rising I look for evening, for both when at rest I aim at the employment of action, and when employed I look for the inaction of repose.'
20. Which nevertheless may be understood in another sense also. For to sleep is to lie prostrate in sin. For if the designation of ' sleep' did not denote sin, Paul would 1 Cor. never say to his disciples. Awake, ye righteous, and sin not. 15, 34. ^j-^^ hence too he charges his hearer, saying. Awake, thou 14. ' that steepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give Rom. thee light. And again; TJiat now it is high time for ns to 13, 11. ^^igQ Qiii of sleep. Hence too Solomon upbraids the sinner, ProT. 6 saying, iiiTo/f' long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? Therefore ^' each one of the Elect, when he is oppressed with the sleep of sin, strives to rise to keep the \^'atch of righteousness. But often when he has risen he feels himself lifted up by the greatness of his virtuous attainments. And hence after attainments in virtue he desires to be tried with the ad- versities of the present life, lest he fall the worse from presumption in his virtuous achievements. For if he had not known that he was preserved more effectually by trial, Ps.26,2. the Psalmist would never have said, Examine me, O Lord, and prove me. And so it is well said here, When I go to sleep, I say. When shall I arise? and again I shall look for the evening; in that both in the sleep of sin, we look for the light of righteousness, and when successes in virtuous attainments elevate the mind, adversity is wanted for our aid, so that when the soul is exalted above what it ought to be in rejoicing at its own excellencies, it may be established by sorrow coming forth, through the encounters of the present life. Hence it is not said, / shall dread the evening, but, / shall look for. For we ' look for' favourable things, we dread those that are adverse to us. And so the good man * looks for evening,' in that when he needs to be tried with affliction, adversity itself is made success to him.
factum est factum est Light and dimness to the spirit in turns desired. 431 21. By the designation of ' evening' there may also be Book understood the tempting of sin, which oftentimes assaults the - mind the sharper, in proportion as the spirit transports it higher to the regions above. For never in this life is sin so entirely abandoned in the practising of righteousness, that we continue without flinching in the self-same righteousness; in that although right principle does already drive out sin from the dwelling of the heart, yet the very sin, that is so banished, taking her seat at the doors of our thought, knocks for it to be opened to her. And this Moses too conveyed in spiritual signification, when he described the parts of time being made in a bodily way, saying, And there was light, ^^^-^^ and adding soon after, Aiid the evening ivas made^. For the i Vulg Maker of all things foreseeing man's guilt, then exhibited in Time what now passes in the human mind. For the light draws on to eventide, in that the shades of temptation follow the light of righteousness. But because the light of the Elect is not put out by temptation, not night, but evening, is recorded as made. Since it often happens, that in the heart of the righteous temptation shades the light of righteous- ness, but it does not put an end thereto; it forces it to the paleness of a flickering state, but does not utterly quench it. And so the Elect both after sleep long for the rising, and after rising look for evening, in that they use both to awake from sin to the light of righteousness, and when placed in that same light of righteousness, they are ever making themselves ready to encounter the snares of temptation; which same they do not dread, but look for, as they are not ignorant that even trials promote the interest of their righteousness.
22. But with whatever degree of virtue they may have striven against their corruption, they cannot have entire health, until the time that the day of their present life is ended. And hence it is added. And I shall hefidl of pains even until the darkness. For one while adversities burst upon them, at another time successes themselves beguile them by insidious joviality; at one time evil propensities making head stir up a war of the flesh, at another time being brought under, they invite the mind to pride. Therefore the life of good men is fidl of pains even until the darkness, in that so long as the period of their state of corruption is going 43*2 Bad practice, corniptiim; evil thoughts, dust.
Job 7, on, it is shaken by tribulation both internal and external; nor — — — does it experience assurance of health, savino: when it leaves 'behind it for good the day oi temptation. And hence this same cause of these pains is brought in immediately after- wards, when it is said, My flesh is clothed with corruption and foulness of dust. For, as we hare said a little above, man \vilt\illy forsook his innate stability, and plunged him- sell'into the abyss of con'uption: and hence now he either goes slipping in impure works, or deliled by forbidden thoughts. For, so to speak, being judicially bowed down beneath its own sin, our nature its very self is put out of the pale of nature, and, when let loose, it is carried even to the length of bad works, while, beins: held in, it is dimmed bv the pressing imagination of bad works. Thus in the fultil- iputre- ment of a forbidden deed, * corruption^ taints the flesh, while in the lightness of evil thought, dust as it were rises up before the eyes. By consenting to evil practices we are wasted with corruption, but by suffering in the heart the images of evil deeds, we are deliled with the stains of dust; and so he says. My Jlesh is clothed with foulness of dust. As if it were in plain words; * The carnal life that I am subjected to, either the corruption of wanton practice defiles, or the cloud of wretched thought compasses about in the recollection of evil ways.
23. And vet if we take this in the voice of the Holv Church Universal, doubtless we find her at one time sunk to the earth by the * corruption' of the flesh, at another time bv ' the defilement of dust.' For she has manv in her, who whilst they are devoted to the love of the flesh, turn corrupt with the putrefaction of excess. And there are some that keep indeed from the gratification of the flesh, yet grovel with all their heart in earthly practices. So let Holy Church say in the words of one of her members, let her say what she undergoes firom either sort of men. My flesh is clothed icith corruption, and the defllements of dust. As if she told in plain words, saying, * There are very many that are members of me in faith, yet these are not sound or pure members in practice: in that either being mastered by foul desires, they run out in the rottenness of corruption; or, being devoted to earthly practices, they are besmeared with Earthly minds in the Church are as withered skin. 433 dust. For in those, whom I have to endure, that arc full of Boo^ wantonness, I do plainly lament for the flesh turaed corrapt - -^H£ and m those, whom I suffer from, that are seeking the earth' what else is this but that I carry it defiled u4th dustr' 24. And hence it is properly added at the same time con- cemmg both sorts; My skin is dried up and shrivelled For m the body of the Church, those that are devoted to outward concerns alone are suitably called ' the skin/ which same by becoming diy is contracted, in that the'soul of carnal men, while then: hearts are set on present objects, and covet what is close at hand, have no mind, as it were to be made to stretch out after the things of the future world in longsuffering. These, while they disregard the richness of the mtenor hope, are dried up that they become shrivelled • m that if hopelessness did not parch their hearts, the fever' ot a httle mind would never contract them. Thus it was this contraction that the Psalmist dreaded, when m fear of the drought of the same he said. May my soul he sa t, sjied P^es^ as tmlh marrow and fatness. For the soul is ' satisfied with " marrow and fatness,' when it is refreshed bv the infusion of heavenly hope against the heat of present longings. And so the ' skin' being dried up shrivels, when the heart bein- given to outward objects, and dried up in hopelessness ^ not stretched out in love of its Creator, but is folded op i^to itself, so to say, by wrinkled thought.
25. But it is to be considered that carnal minds onlv dehght m present things, because they never weiafa well how transitory- the life of the flesh is. IFor if they regarded the speed of its flight, they would never love it even when it smiled upon them. But Holy Church, in her elect members, daily mmds how quick a flight belongs to outward thin-s, and therefore she sets firm the foot of serious purpose in ^e interior. And hence it is well added; Ver. 6. My days are past more siciftly than a web is cut off by the weaver.
26. By a very suitable image the time of the flesh is xi. compared to a web. For as the web advances by threads, so this mortal hfe by the several days; but in proportion as e Thus fu»z*^u-/i» is used by St. Chiyawtom for a petty spirit of quarreUin^ 2p 434 Man's life grows to an end as a weh, hut never stays.
Job 7, it grows to its bigness, it is advancing to its cutting off. For as we have also said above, whilst the time in our hands Moral.
passes, the time before us is shortened. And of the whole space of our lives those portions are rendered fevrer that are to come, in proportion as those are many in number that have gone by. For a web, being fastened above and below, is bound to two pieces of wood that it may be woven; but in proportion as below the part woven is rolled up, so above the part that remains to be woven is being unwound, and by the same act, by which it augments itself in growth, that is rendered less which remains. Just so with the periods of our life, we as it were roll up below those that are past, and un- wind at top those that are to come, in that in the same pro- portion that the past become more, the future have begun to diminish. But because not even does a web suffice for the setting forth of our span of time, for the rapid course of our life surpasses the speed and quickness even of that too, it is well said in this place, 3Ty days are past away more swiftly than a web is cut off by the weaver. For to the web there is a delay of growth, but to the present life there is no delay of coming to an end. For in the one when the hand of the workman is stopped, the end of the arrival is deferred, but in this latter, because we consume without end lime ending every instant, even while resting we are brought to the end of our way, and along the course of our passage, we go on even in sleeping. Therefore the Elect, seeing that the moments of the present life run past at speed, never in this journey of most rapid motion fix the purpose of their hearts. And hence it is well added upon that.
And are spent without any hope.
27. The minds of lost sinners are bound fast with such love for the days of their present life, that they long to live for ever here in the same way. So that, if it were possible, they desire never to have the course of their life brought to an end. For they are too indifferent to take account of the future, they place all their hope in transitory things, they aim to have nothing but such objects as pass away. And while they think too much of transitory things, and never look forward to those that shall remain, the eye of their heart is so closed in insensible blindness, that it is never xn.
Earthly meiCs hopes here, aonietimes till death. 435 fixed on the interior light. Whence it often happens, that Book distress akeady shakes the frame, and approaching death ^ cuts off the power of the breath of hfe, yet they never cease to mind the things that are of the world. And already the avenger is dragging them to judgment, and yet they them- selves, occupied with the concerns of time, in the busy management of them, are only thinking how they may still live on in this world. In the act of leaving every thing, they dispose of all as if they were entering upon the possession of them, in that the hope of living is not broken, at the very moment when life is at an end. They are already being forced to judgment in feeling^, yet they still cleave to the ^ per hold of their goods in solicitude. For by the hardened soul ^Trn "" death is still believed to be far off, even when his touch is felt. And the soul is so separated from the flesh, that by keeping itself in excessive love for things present, when it is led to everlasting punishment, it does not know this mere thing, whither it is being led; and in leaving all that it would not love with bounds, it suddenly finds without bounds things that it never anticipated. But, on the other hand, the mind of the righteous is stretched in intentness after the eternal world, even when the present life goes smoothly along with it.
It enjoys the high health of the flesh, yet the spirit is never hindered by dependence on it. No atom ^ of death as yetsarticu- breaks forth, still he daily regards it as present to him. For^'^"" because life is unceasingly slipping by, the expectation of living is wholly cut short for him. Therefore it is well said of the passing days, And are spent ivithout hope. As if it were declared in plain terms; ' I have not placed confidence of heart in the present life, in that all that is passing I have dismissed from my hopes, treading it under foot.' And hence it is rightly added immediately after, Ver. 7. O remember that my life is wind.
28. For those men love the life of the flesh as enduringj xiii, who do not consider how infinite is the eternity of the hfe to come; and whereas they take no thought of the sure stedfastness of the everlasting state, they take their exile for their home, darkness for light, going for standing. Since they that know nothing of greater things can never judge rightly of the least. For the order of judging requires that we 436 Our short life matter of compassion with God. Job 7, should be above that which we are strivhiL? to tiv. Since if 1 — the mind is not able to rise above all things, it has no certain MonAL.., -,,.,.,.., Sight at all in relation to those, by which it is surpassed. And so it is for this reason that the lost soul is inadequate to estimate the course of the present life, because from love of the same it is bowed down to the admiration thereof. But holy men, in proportion as they lift their hearts towards the eternal world, bethink themselves how short-lived that is which is closed by an ending. And all that is passing is rendered worthless to their senses, forasmuch as that pours in its light through the rays of intelligence, which once received never departs. And as soon as they contemplate the infinite extent of eternity, they cease any longer to desire as great whatsoever has an end to limit it. But the mind when lifted up is carried beyond the limits of time, even when by the flesh it is held fast in time, and it looks down from a greater height on all that is to have an end, the more truly it knows the things without end. Now this very con- sideration of the short span of man's estate is itself an offering ^virtutis of singular efficacy^ to our Maker. Whence a sacrifice of this merit is here rightly offered together with prayer, when it is said, O remember that my life is iciud. As if it were said in plain words, ' Regard with loving-kindness one that is quickly gone, in that I claim to be looked upon by Thee with greater pity, even in proportion as I myself do not turn away mine eyes from the contemplation of my short span.' But seeing that when the season of our present life is cut short, there is no more return to the work of earning our forgiveness, it is rightly added, Mine eye shall no more return to see good. xiv. 29. The eye of the dead ' no more returneth to see good,' in that for the setting forth of good works, the soul once stiipped of the flesh knows no return. It is hence that the rich man, whom the fire of hell was devouring, knew that he could never restore himself b}' doing works; for he never turned himself to do good to himself, but to his brethren Lukeie, that were left; 1 pray thee, father Abraham, that thou wouldest send him to my father'' s house; for I hare Jive brethren, that he may testify nnto them, lest they also come into this place of torment. For hoj)e even though un- No return for work or for mercy after death, 437 founded is used to cheer the stricken soul; but the lost, that Book they may feel their woe the keener, lose even hope as to '-