nothing;
their love is no more to be valued, for it can profit nothing; their
zeal and energy are no more to be accounted of, for they can effect
nothing; yea, all has come to an end forever under the sun. Oh, the
awfulness of this darkness! "Then I will give," continues
Ecclesiastes, "counsel for this vain life in conformity with the dense
gloom of its close. Listen! Go eat with joy thy bread, and merrily
drink thy wine; let never shade of sorrow mar thy short-lived pleasure;
let no mourning on thy dress be seen, nor to thy head be oil of
gladness lacking; merrily live with her whom thy affection has chosen
as thy life-companion, and trouble not thyself as to God's acceptance
of thy works--that has been settled long ago; nor let a sensitive
conscience disturb thee: whatsoever is in thy power to do, that do,
without scruple or question;[1] for soon, but too soon, these days of
thy vanity will close, and in the grave, whither thou surely goest, all
opportunities for activity, of whatever character, are over, and
that--_forever_!"

Strange counsel this, for sober and wise Ecclesiastes to give, is it
not? Much has it puzzled many a commentator. Luther boldly says it is
sober Christian advice, meant even now to be literally accepted, "lest
you become like the monks, who would not have one look even at the
sun." Hard labor indeed, however, is it to force it thus into harmony
with the general tenor of God's word.

But is not the counsel good and reasonable enough under certain
conditions? And are not those conditions and premises clearly laid
down for us in the context here? It is as if a whirlwind of awful
perplexities had swept the writer with irresistible force away from his
moorings,--a black cloud filled with the terrors of darkness and death
sweeps over his being, and out of the black and terrible storm he
speaks--"Man has but an hour to enjoy here, and I know nothing as to
what comes after, except that death, impenetrable death, ends every
generation of men, throws down to the dust the good, the righteous, the
sober, as well as the lawless, the false, and the profligate; ends in a
moment all thought, knowledge, love, and hatred;--then since I know
nothing beyond this vain life, I can only say, Have thy fling;--short,
short thy life will be, and vain thou wilt find this short life; so get
thy fill of pleasure here, for thou goest, and none can help thee, to
where all activities cease, and love and hatred end