lamentation, much more he
that is devoid of righteousness and that has fallen from hope toward
God. These, then, let us bewail; for such bewailing may be useful. For
often while lamenting these, we amend our own faults; but to bewail the
departed is senseless and hurtful. Let us not, then, reverse the order,
but bewail only sin; and all other things, whether poverty, or sickness,
or untimely death, or calumny, or false accusation, or whatever human
evil befalls us, let us resolutely bear them all. For these calamities,
if we are watchful, will be the occasions of adding to our crowns.

But how is it possible, you ask, that a bereaved person, being a man,
should not grieve? On the contrary, I ask, how is it that being a man he
should grieve, since he is honored with reason and with hopes of future
good? Who is there, you ask again, that has not been subdued by this
weakness? Many, I reply, and in many places, both among us and among
those who have died before us. Job, for instance; the whole circle of
his children being taken away, hear what he says--"The Lord gave; the
Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." A wonderful
saying, even when merely heard; but if you examine it closely, your
wonder will greatly increase.

For consider; Satan did not take merely half and leave half, or take the
larger number and leave the rest; but he gathered all the fruit, and yet
did not prevail in uprooting the tree; he covered the whole sea with
waves, and yet did not overwhelm the bark; he despoiled the tower of its
strength, and yet could not batter it down. Job stood firm, tho assailed
from every quarter; showers of arrows fell, but they did not wound him.
Consider how great a thing it was, to see so many children perish. Was
it not enough to pierce him to the quick that they should all be
snatched away?--altogether and in one day; in the flower of life;
having shown so much virtue; expiring as by a stroke of vengeance; that
after so many sorrows this last should be inflicted; that the father was
fond of them, and that the deceased were worthy of his affection. When a
man loses vicious children, he does indeed suffer grief, but not intense
grief; for the wickedness of the departed does not allow the sorrow to
be poignant. But when children are virtuous, an abiding wound is
inflicted, the remembrance is indelible, the calamity is inconsolable;
there is a double sting, from nature, and from the virtuous character of
the