If I have sinned and thou hast spared me for an hour: why dost thou not suffer me to be clean from my iniquity?

“If I have sinned, and Thou sparedst me at the hour, wherefore dost Thou not let me be clean from mine iniquity? The Lord 'spareth sin at the hour,' when the moment that we yield tears, He does away with the guilt of sin. But He doth not 'let us be clean from our iniquity,' in that of free will indeed we committed the sin, but sometimes against our will we undergo the remembrance of it with a sense of pleasure; for often that, which has been put away from the sight of the just Judge by tears intervening, recurs to mind, and the conquered habit strives to insinuate itself again for the entertaining of delight, and is renewed again in the former contest with revived assault, that what it once did in the body, it may afterwards go through in the mind by intruding thought; which same that spiritual wrestler knew how to regard with heedful eye, who said, My scars stink, and are corrupt through my foolishness. For what are 'scars' but the healings of wounds? And so he who lamented his scars, beheld his pardoned wickednesses return to his remembrance for the entertaining of delight. Since for scars to grow corrupt is for wounds of sins, already healed, again to insinuate themselves in the tempting of us, and at their suggestions, after the skin of penitence has grown over; to be sensible of the stench and pain of sin again. Wherein there is at once both nothing done outwardly in deed, and sin is committed within in the thought alone, and the soul is laid under a close bond of guilt except it do away with it by heedful lamentation. MORAL INTERPRETATION Whence it is well said by Moses, If there be among you any man that is not clean by reason of a dream that chanceth him by night, then shall he go abroad without the camp, he shall not come within the camp: but it shall be when evening cometh on he shall wash himself with water: and when the sun is down he shall come into the camp again. For 'the dream that chanceth by night' is the secret tempting, whereby there is something foul conceived in the heart in dark thought, which nevertheless is not fulfilled in the deed of the body. Now, if there be any that is 'not clean by reason of a dream that chanceth him by night,' he is bidden to go abroad without the camp, in that it is meet that he that is defiled with impure thought, should look upon himself as unworthy the society of the faithful, that he should set before his eyes the deserts of his sin, and look down upon himself in the scale of good men. And so for 'one unclean to go abroad out of the camp' is for one hard bestead by the assaults of impurity, to look down upon himself by comparison with men of continency. And 'when evening cometh on he washes himself with water,' in that seeing his offence he has recourse to tears of penitence, that by weeping he may wash out every thing that hidden defilement brings home to the soul's charge. 'And when the sun is down he shall come into the camp again,' in that when the heat of temptation has subsided, it follows that he should again take confidence to join the company of the good. For after washing with water, when the sun is set, he returns to the camp, who after tears of penance, when the flame of unlawful thought is quenched, is restored to assume the claims of the faithful, that he should not any longer account himself far removed from others, who rejoices that he is clean by the departure of the inward burning. But herein be it known that it is for this reason that we are sometimes driven to straits by the impulse of unlawful thought, because we are ready to employ ourselves in certain courses of earthly conduct, though not unlawful. And when even in the very least things we come in contact with earthly conduct in desire, the might of our old enemy gaining strength against us, our mind is defiled by no little urgency of temptation. And hence the Priest of the Law is enjoined to consume with fire the limbs of the victim cut into pieces, the head, and the parts about the liver; but the inwards and the legs he is to wash with water first. For we offer our own selves a sacrifice to God, when we dedicate our lives to the service of God, and we set the members of the sacrifice cut into pieces upon the fire, when we offer up the deeds of our lives dividing them in the virtues. The head and the parts contained about the liver we burn, when in our faculty of sense, whereby all the body is governed, and in our hidden desire we are kindled with the flame of divine love. And yet it is bidden, that the feet and the inwards of the victim be washed with water. For with the feet the earth is touched, and in the inwards dung is carried, in that it very often happens that already in the desire of our hearts we burn for eternity, already with an entire feeling of devotion we pant in longing desire for the mortification of ourselves; but whereas by reason of our frailty there is still a mixture of earth in what we do, even some of the things forbidden which we have already subdued, we are subject to in thought, and while unclean temptation defiles our thoughts, what else is this than that 'the inwards' of the victim carry dung? But that they may be fit to be burnt, let them be washed, in that it is necessary that tears of fear wash out the impure thoughts of the heart, for love from on high to consume them in acceptance of the sacrifice, and whatever the mind is subject to, proceeding either from untried conflict, or from the remembrance of former practice, let it be washed, that it may burn with so much the sweeter odour in the sight of its Beholder, in proportion as when it begins to draw near to Him, it sets upon the altar of its prayer along with itself nought earthly, nought impure. Therefore let the holy man regard the wretchedness of the human mind, how often it defiles itself with unhallowed thoughts, and after the Judge's remission of the guilt of our doings, even whilst he bewails his own case, let him shew to us ours, for ourselves to bewail, saying, If I have sinned, and thou sparedst me at the hour, wherefore dost thou not let me be clean from mine iniquity? As if he said in plain words; 'If Thy forgiveness has taken away my sin, why does it not sweep it from my memory also?' Oftentimes the mind is so shaken from its centre at the recollection of sin, that it is prompted to the commission thereof far worse than it had been before subjected to it, and when entangled it is filled with fears, and being driven with different impulses, throws itself into disorder. It dreads lest it should be overcome by temptations, and in resisting, it shudders at this very fact, that it is harassed with the long toils of conflict.”

“My soul is weary of my life, and so on. After Job had proposed above that both innocent and wicked are afflicted in this age, and had touched upon one cause of the punishment of the innocent that might be supposed, namely that the earth is as it were abandoned by God and exposed to the will of a power that is, as it were, unjust, punishing the innocent at its pleasure — this cause being set aside because it contains a manifest impropriety — he inquired who was the punisher of the innocent and for what cause, and he intends here to pursue this question further. But before he proceeds to the inquiry, he shows in what frame of mind he is speaking here: for he speaks in the person of an afflicted man, according to the conceptions which sorrow supplies to him; whence first he sets down the weariness he suffers in this life on account of the tribulations he suffers, which are so grave that they even render life itself wearisome: for although to live is delightful, yet to live in straits is wearisome, whence he says, "My soul is weary of my life." And just as a man to whom his life is delightful wishes to go on living, so one to whom his life is wearisome wishes to be deprived of life, and therefore he adds, "I will let loose my speech against myself"; for that is said "against" someone which is destructive of him: therefore a man speaks against himself when he desires to be deprived of life. But he says pointedly "I will let loose," for often a man suffers certain movements in his heart on account of some passion, whether of sorrow or of desire or of anger or of any other, and yet so restrains all these movements by reason that they do not proceed into outward speech; but when reason, wishing to show what he suffers within, brings forth the hidden movements into words, then he is said to let loose his speech, as one previously held back, and for this reason he adds, "I will speak in the bitterness of my soul," as if to say: the words which I shall utter outwardly show my inward bitterness, so as to give one to understand that he speaks in the person of an embittered man. But lest it again be understood that this letting loose of speech comes about because reason is overcome by sorrow, he adds, "I will say to God: Do not condemn me"; for when reason is conquered by passion, a man murmurs against God and sometimes proceeds even to blasphemy, but while amid tribulations a man's reason remains upright, he submits himself to God and awaits remedy from him, saying to God, "Do not condemn me." At the same time, in this he also approaches the question: for whereas above he had asked who was the cause of the punishment of the innocent in this world, here he now confesses that God is the author of the punishment, since he asks that he not be condemned by him, according to that word of 1 Kings 2:6, "The Lord kills and brings to life," by which the heresy of the Manichaeans is refuted. These things having been premised, on the supposition that God is the author of the punishment, he inquires of God concerning the cause of his own punishment, saying, "Show me why you judge me so," that is, make me know the cause on account of which I am punished by you: for he knew that the investigation of reason cannot arrive at the terminus of truth unless it be taught by God. Now to know the cause of one's own punishment is necessary for a man either for correction or that he may bear the scourges more patiently. He proceeds to the inquiry of this question under a certain disjunction: for it is necessary that the one who is punished be either innocent or a sinner. First he proceeds by supposing that he is innocent; and because we arrive at knowledge of divine things through human things, he sets forth two ways by which, in human judgment, the innocent are sometimes punished. The first way is on account of the malice of the one punishing, from which it happens in three ways that punishments are inflicted upon the innocent: sometimes indeed when through cunning they bring false charges against the innocent, and as to this he says, "Does it seem good to you that you should falsely accuse"; sometimes they oppress by power, and as to this he adds, "and oppress me, the work of your hands"; sometimes again they themselves do not punish the innocent from their own impulse, but because they inordinately love certain wicked men, they help them even in the oppression of the innocent, whence it is added, "and favor the counsel of the wicked?" But it must be considered that sometimes one and the same thing can be good for different natures and evil for others, just as to be irascible is good for a dog, but evil for a man; but no one of sound mind calls into doubt whether God works anything out of malice, for there cannot be anything evil in the highest good; yet it can happen that something which is evil in man pertains to divine goodness, just as not to have mercy, insofar as mercy sounds as a passion in man, is indeed blamed in man, which nevertheless the divine goodness, out of its perfection, requires. Now it is manifest that the three things aforesaid — to falsely accuse, to oppress, and to favor the counsel of the wicked — are evils in men: whence he brings this into question, whether they can be good in God, whence he does not ask, "Do you falsely accuse and oppress?" but "Does it seem good to you that you should falsely accuse and oppress?" as if presupposing as certain that God never does anything except what seems good to him, and this is truly good. Likewise it must be considered that those things which happen naturally are imputed to no one as fault or as evil; and it is natural that each thing should destroy its contrary, whence also God, who is supremely good, hates those things which are done against him and destroys them, according to that word of the Psalm, "You have hated all who work iniquity, you will destroy," etc.; if therefore men had not been made by God but by a contrary principle, as the Manichaeans fable, it would seem good that God should oppress men for his own sake; therefore to exclude this he does not simply say, "that you should oppress me," but adds, "the work of your hands." Likewise it seems good that God should fulfill the wills of the just; but those who wish to falsely accuse or oppress an innocent man are not just but wicked, and especially if they wish this not out of ignorance or by chance but out of counsel and deliberation: whence, since he supposes himself innocent in the first part of the question, it follows that those would be wicked who wished to oppress or falsely accuse him out of deliberate counsel, and therefore he says pointedly, "and favor the counsel of the wicked." This cause therefore being set aside, since this cannot seem good to God, seeing that he himself is the work of God's hands and since his enemies who had oppressed him are proved to be wicked, he proceeds accordingly to the second way by which, in human judgment, the innocent are sometimes afflicted. For it happens sometimes that when someone innocent is falsely accused before a judge, the judge, in order to search out the truth, subjects him to torments, acting according to justice, but the cause of this thing is a defect of human knowledge, which is threefold: one indeed, because all human knowledge proceeds from sense, and since the senses are of bodily things and are themselves bodily, the judge cannot know the interior conscience of the accused; therefore, to exclude this from God, he says, "Do you have eyes of flesh?" As if he were to say: Do you know by bodily senses, so that you see only bodily things and cannot know interior things? He mentions the eyes because sight excels among the other senses. The second defect is that man, through the bodily senses, cannot even behold all bodily things: for he cannot know what is done in remote and hidden places, which he removes from God, saying, "or do you see as man sees," namely so that you cannot know the things that are done everywhere, even hidden things? The third defect of human knowledge is from time, both because man knows more from day to day, and also because through length of time he forgets the things he knew, so that he must, as it were, learn again: this therefore he removes from God, saying, "Are your days as the days of man," namely so that your knowledge grows from day to day; "and your years as the times of man," namely so that something is lost to your knowledge through the course of time? And he adds, "that you should inquire after my iniquity and search out my sin," that is, that through scourges you should inquire whether I have sinned in deed and am wicked in mind, as men search out sins through torments? And thus, after such an inquiry, finding no sins in me, you may know that I have done nothing impious, as if you could not know this otherwise except by searching out my sins through scourges; and that you should do this freely, without contradiction, since there is no one who can snatch anything out of your hand: for sometimes judges fail in this inquiry which is carried out through torments, when those who ought to be tortured are snatched from their hands. And because he had said above that he was the work of God's hands, in order to show from this that it cannot seem good to God to oppress him for his own sake, as if delighting in his oppression, he now makes manifest what he had supposed, whence he adds, "Your hands have made me." And lest anyone believe, according to the heresy of the Manichaeans, that man's soul was made by God but his body formed by a contrary author, he adds, "and fashioned me wholly round about." He says "round about" because the body appears to be, as it were, round about the soul, like a garment around the one clothed, or like a house around its inhabitant; he says "wholly" so that it may be referred to each of the body's members; he says "fashioned" so as to allude to the fact that man is said to have been formed from the slime of the earth; and by "hands" the divine operation is understood, whence he says "hands" in the plural, because although the divine power operating is one, yet its operation is multiplied in its effects, both on account of the diversity of the effects and also on account of the variety of the intermediate causes through which it produces its effects. He adds, moreover, "and will you thus destroy me suddenly?" Because it seems sudden that someone who has produced a thing should corrupt it without a manifest cause: for whoever makes something wills it to be — for he makes it in order that it may be — but whoever destroys something wills it not to be; it seems therefore, if someone destroys what he had previously made, that this is a sudden change of will, unless some manifest cause newly arises from which it may appear that what before was to be made ought now to be destroyed; but such a sudden change of will cannot fall upon God, and therefore, as it were in wonder, he asks, "and will you thus destroy me suddenly?" as if to say: it seems improper that you should now destroy without cause one whom you formerly made. Or what he said, "have made me," can be referred to the constitution of the substance, while what he said, "and fashioned me wholly round about," can be referred to those things which accrue to the substance, whether they be goods of the soul or of the body or of external fortune. And because he had in general set down that he was made and fashioned by God, he pursues in particular the manner of his making, after the likeness of someone who wishes to bring back to another's memory something which he seems to have forgotten: he expounds everything to him in particular so that in this way it may be brought back to his memory. Now God seems to forget the benevolence which he has toward his creature when he exposes it to corruption, for he behaves after the manner of one forgetting; and according to this manner it is said in the Psalm, "How long, O Lord, will you forget me unto the end?" And therefore he says, "Remember, I beseech you, that you made me as clay." Here it must be considered that he commemorates a twofold making of man: first indeed that which pertains to the first institution of nature, alluding to what is said in Genesis 1, "God formed man from the slime of the earth," and therefore he says, "that you made me as clay," where he also seems to touch upon the composition of man from the first elements. And because it was also said to the first man, "You are dust and unto dust you shall return," he consequently adds, "and will bring me back into dust," which also befits natural matter: for it is a consequence of the order of nature that those things which are generated from the earth should be resolved back into the earth. But concerning this someone might wonder, since it seems a greater thing to form man from the earth than to preserve man once formed from being reduced to dust, whence it is that God, who formed man from clay, permits him to be reduced to dust: namely, whether this is solely from the necessity of matter, so that man in this has nothing more than the other things that are formed from the earth, or whether this is from divine providence punishing some fault of man. He then next touches upon the making of man with respect to the work of propagation, according as man is generated by man. Here it must be considered that he attributes all the works of nature to God, not so as to exclude the operation of nature, but in the manner in which those things that are done through second causes are attributed to the principal agent, as the operation of the saw is attributed to the craftsman: for this very fact, that nature operates, it has from God, who instituted it to this end. Now in this generation of man there occurs first the resolution of the seed, and as to this he says, "Have you not milked me like milk?" For just as seed is a superfluity of nourishment, so also is milk. Secondly there occurs the compacting of the bodily mass in the womb of the woman, and as to this he adds, "and curdled me like cheese?" For the seed of the male stands to the matter which the female supplies in the generation of man and of other animals just as rennet stands in the generation of cheese. Thirdly there occurs the distinction of the organs, whose consistency and strength are from the sinews and bones, while they are surrounded on the outside by skin and flesh, whence he says, "You have clothed me with skin and flesh, you have knit me together with bones and sinews." The fourth is the animation of the fetus, and especially with respect to the rational soul, which is not infused except after organization; and together with the rational soul there are divinely infused into man certain seedbeds of the virtues, some indeed common to all, but some proper to certain individuals, according as some men are naturally disposed to one virtue, others to another: for Job says below, "From my infancy mercy grew up with me, and it came out with me from the womb," whence here too he says, "You have granted me life and mercy." The last is the preservation of life, both in the maternal womb and after departure from the womb, which preservation indeed comes about partly through natural principles and partly through other benefits of God added over and above nature, whether they pertain to the soul or to the body or to external goods, and as to this he adds, "and your visitation has preserved my spirit": for just as God is said in the Scriptures to withdraw from someone when God takes away his gifts from him, so he is said to visit him when he bestows his gifts upon him. And lest, from the fact that he had said to God, "Remember, I beseech you, that you made me as clay," anyone might believe him to hold the opinion that forgetfulness could fall upon God, he excuses himself from this, adding, "although you conceal these things in your heart, yet I know that you remember all things"; and God is said, after the likeness of man, to conceal something in his heart when he does not show through effect what he has in knowledge or affection: thus therefore he says God conceals the aforesaid things in his heart because it is not shown in effect that he recognizes him as his own creature, whom he seems thus to destroy so suddenly. If I have sinned, and you have spared me for an hour, and so on. Above, Job inquired into the cause of his punishment on the supposition that he was innocent; now, however, he proceeds to inquire whether he is punished on this account, that he is a sinner. And that he is not punished on account of sin he first shows, using this argument: for if he committed a sin, it seems most likely that he committed it in the time of his prosperity; but if sin were the whole cause why some sustain adversities in the present, then, the cause being posited, the effect is posited, so that it would be necessary that as soon as someone sins, adversity should follow; but it was manifest that Job, in the time of his prosperity, kept the same manner of living: whence if he sinned by living in this manner, he had sinned long before he suffered adversity; it would therefore be necessary to say that, since adversity did not follow immediately after the sin, God spared him for that time in which he did not bring in adversities; but it is improper to say that a sin which God spared should again be imputed unto punishment: it does not seem, therefore, that he is now punished for a sin previously committed by him. This, then, is what he says: "If I have sinned," namely in the time of my prosperity, "and you have spared me for an hour," namely because you did not immediately bring in adversity, "why do you not allow me to be clean from my iniquity?" As if to say: why, since you reckoned me for some time as it were pure, sparing me my iniquity, do you now punish me again as though I were not pure? He then subjoins another argument as well, which is this: if sin is the whole cause of present adversities, it would follow that not so much the just as the sinners suffer adversities in this world; but we see that adversities are common to both the just and to sinners, and this is what he says: "And if I shall be wicked, woe is me" — that is, I sustain adversities; "and if just, either I was so before, or have now become so, I shall not lift up my head" — as if raised up from misery: "I say this, being filled with affliction," as to sorrows, "and misery," as to want and confusion. Now by "being filled" he designates the abundance of affliction and misery, and this he seems to say against the statement of Eliphaz and Baldad, who had said that if he were converted he would be freed from adversity: against which he says that even if he had become just, he is nevertheless not thereby relieved from misery, although for preceding sins, if there were any, he is now sufficiently punished, which he designates by the fullness of affliction and misery. And because Eliphaz had imputed it to him as pride that he called himself innocent, he adds, "and on account of my pride you will seize me as a lioness": for Eliphaz had said above, in denunciation of Job, "the roaring of the lion, and the voice of the lioness, and the teeth of the young lions have been broken"; he says therefore, "on account of my pride you will seize me as a lioness," as if to say: you cause me to be reckoned by those who catch at my words as a lioness because of pride. And this very fact, that he was thus reckoned wicked, was to him a punishment upon punishment, whence he adds, "and returning, you torment me wonderfully" — as if to say: you came before, afflicting me through the taking away of possessions and wounds of the body, and now you have returned again and torment me through my friends, which is wondrous because I ought rather to receive consolation from friends; or he says this because a man is afflicted most of all when he is derided by friends. But of what sort this torment is he shows, adding, "you renew your witnesses against me": for Eliphaz, while he seemed to defend the justice of God, and likewise his companions, in which they showed themselves as it were witnesses of God, spoke against Job, accusing him of sin; "and you multiply your wrath against me," that is, the effect of your wrath, in that you punish me in many ways, "and afflictions war against me," as if they attack me with a certain authority and without contradiction: for soldiers are accustomed to attack, with royal authority and without any contradiction, one who is reckoned guilty. Why then have you brought me forth out of the womb, and so on. Job had ended his inquiry with this, that whether he were just or a sinner, he lay under manifold tribulations; and lest anyone should believe that God delights in his tribulations, he wishes to inquire whether this can be true. Now it seems improper that anyone should produce his own effect for this purpose, that it should fare ill, since rather every agent intends good in its effect; but he supposes, as is clear from what has been said, that he is the work of God, and therefore he asks him, "Why have you brought me forth out of the womb?" As if to say: did you cause me to be born for this reason, to subject me to tribulations? And because someone might say that even so, to be amid tribulations is simply better than not to have been born, he excludes this, saying, "Oh, that I had been consumed," namely in the maternal womb, "so that no eye might see me" — that is, so that I might not suffer the confusion which I suffer from such great evils as the eyes of men behold in me; and yet, if I had been consumed in the maternal womb, I would have had the dignity of being without the misery which has befallen me in my existing, and this is what he says, "I would have been" — as it were participating, that is, I would have participated in that which is good in being — "as if I had not been," that is, I would have been free from the evils of this life, as though I had never existed; for it is not the dignity of human being that it should be preserved forever, but that a man should at length die and be carried to the tomb which is prepared for the dead so that some memory of him might remain after death; and this too would not have been lacking to me, whence there follows, "carried from the womb to the tomb." Now no one is found so cruel, delighting in another's punishments, that he does not cease from afflicting even a little; granted, then, that God were not the cause of man's birth, still the days of man are few, especially in comparison to the eternity of God, and this brevity too, when a man has already passed a great part of his life, is expected to be soon ended, and this is what he says: "Shall not the fewness of my days be ended soon," since all the days of my life are few, a great part of that very fewness having already passed? It is not a great thing, therefore, if for the rest you should cease from striking, and this is what he concludes: "Suffer me therefore." And if it seems hard to you that I should be even for an hour without afflictions, it is certain that even with you ceasing from striking, there remains to me nothing whereby I might rejoice but whereby I might grieve, and this is what he adds, "that I may bewail my sorrow a little" — namely, that which I have conceived from the preceding blows; and he says this because he still reckoned himself struck while his friends reproached him, of whom he had said, "you renew your witnesses against me." And because it could be answered to him, "rather, you are to be afflicted here for a little time; when you pass from here you will find consolation," which could be understood in two ways: in one way, by returning again to this life, and this he excludes when he says, "before I go" — namely through death — "and shall not return" — so as to live again — which can be expounded in two ways: in one way, that he says he will not return to a like manner of living, as some fabled; or better, it should be said that he speaks after the manner of a disputant, according to what his adversaries held, before the truth is made manifest: for below, Job will clearly indicate the truth of the resurrection, and therefore in all the foregoing he speaks of the resurrection while supposing the opinion of those with whom he was disputing, who did not believe there was any other life than this one, but that in this life alone men are either punished or rewarded for the evils and goods which they do — in another way, he could expect consolation after the end of this life in the very state of death itself, but this he excludes, saying, "to the land that is dark," namely to which I shall go after death. And this can be expounded in two ways: in one way, of Hell, to which the souls of all men descended, even of the just, before Christ, although the just did not there suffer sensible pains but only darkness, while the others suffered both pains and darkness; but because Job had spoken as though it were doubtful whether he himself were just, as the truth of the matter was, or a sinner, as his friends falsely charged, he describes Hell in common, both as to the good and as to the wicked. Taking Hell, then, in this common sense, it is called a "dark land" insofar as it lacks the brightness of the divine vision; it is called "covered with the mist of death" with respect to original sin, which is a mist inducing death; it is called a "land of misery" with respect to the punishments which the reprobate suffer there; it is called a "land of darkness" with respect to the obscurities of actual sins in which the wicked are involved; and it is said that there is there a "shadow," that is, a likeness, of death, because they are afflicted there just as if they were always dying; and it is said that there is no order there, either on account of the confusion of mind which the damned suffer, or because that order is not observed there which is observed here — for here fire burns and gives light, which is not the case there; and everlasting horror dwells there, because although they always grieve over present punishments, they always likewise fear future ones. But because those against whom he was disputing did not posit the immortality of the soul such that it would remain after death, and he himself still speaks according to their positions, it is expounded better, as to the sense of the letter, that the whole be referred to the body, which is buried in the earth and turned into earth. He says, then, "to the dark land," with respect to the very property of earth, which is in itself opaque; but although it is in itself opaque, yet the living who dwell upon the earth are illumined by the light of the air covering the earth, but the dead do not enjoy this light, whence he adds, "and covered with the mist of death," as if to say: death brings it about that after death one no longer uses the light which the living use. Now it happens sometimes that although someone living does not enjoy the light surrounding the earth, yet, existing in some hidden place of the earth, he enjoys the things he desires as to appetite and considers truths as to intellect, but the dead lack this, whence he adds "a land of misery" with respect to the lack of all desirable things, and "of darkness" insofar as the consideration of truths is wanting. Among the other things, moreover, in which the living delight, the chief is human society with its due order, whereby some preside and others are subject and others serve, but the dead are deprived of this, whence he adds, "where is the shadow of death" — as if to say: among the dead there are nothing but shadows, according to the estimation of the living, as is said in Wisdom 17:4, "Persons appearing sad gave them fright"; "and no order," because, without difference of honor and dignity, the condition of the dead is alike; "but everlasting horror dwells there," with respect to the living, to whom the dead are a horror — as if to say: there is nothing in the state of the dead except what men shudder at, and this will be everlasting among them if they do not return to life. Thus, therefore, Job, in inquiring into the cause of his tribulation, has shown that it is not from some wicked man into whose hand the earth has been given, that it is not from God oppressing him through false accusation, that it is not from God searching out his fault, that it is not from God punishing sins, that it is not from God taking delight in his punishments: whence the cause of his tribulation still remains in doubt. All these things Job pursues so as necessarily to lead his hearers to posit another life in which both the just are rewarded and the wicked punished, since, this not being posited, no cause can be given for the tribulation of the just, who, it is certain, are sometimes afflicted in this world.”

“Here we have, I. Job's passionate complaints. On this harsh and unpleasant string he harps much, in which, though he cannot be justified, he may be excused. He complained not for nothing, as the murmuring Israelites, but had cause to complain. If we think it looks ill in him, let it be a warning to us to keep our temper better. 1. He complains of the strictness of God's judgment and the rigour of his proceedings against him, and is ready to call it summum jus - justice bordering on severity. (1.) That he took all advantages against him: "If I sin, then thou markest me, Job 10:14.(1.) If I do but take one false step, misplace a word, or cast a look awry, I shall be sure to hear of it. Conscience, thy deputy, will be sure to upbraid me with it, and to tell me that this gripe, this twitch of pain, is to punish me for that." If God should thus mark iniquities, we should be undone; but we must acknowledge the contrary, that, though we sin, God does not deal in extremity with us. (2.) That he prosecuted those advantages to the utmost: Thou wilt not acquit me from my iniquity. While his troubles he could not take the comfort of his pardon, nor hear that voice of joy and gladness; so hard is it to see love in God's heart when we see frowns in his face and a rod in his hand. (3.) That, whatever was his character, his case at present was very uncomfortable, Job 10:15. [1.] If he be wicked, he is certainly undone in the other world: If I be wicked, woe to me. Note, A sinful state is a woeful state. This we should each of us believe, as Job here, with application to ourselves: "If I be wicked, though prosperous and living in pleasure, yet woe to me." Some especially have reason to dread double woes if they be wicked. "I that have knowledge, that have made a great profession of religion, that have been so often under strong convictions, and have made so many fair promises - I that was born of such good parents, blessed with a good education, that have lived in good families, and long enjoyed the means of grace - if I be wicked, woe, and a thousand woes, to me." [2.] If he be righteous, yet he dares not lift up his head, dares not answer as before, Job 9:15. He is so oppressed and overwhelmed with his troubles that he cannot look up with any comfort or confidence. Without were fightings, within were fears; so that, between both, he was full of confusion, not only confusion of face for the disgrace he was brought down to and the censures of his friends, but confusion of spirit; his mind was in a constant hurry, and he was almost distracted, Psa 88:15. 2. He complains of the severity of the execution. God (he thought) did not only punish him for every failure, but punish him in a high degree, Job 10:16, Job 10:17. His affliction was, (1.) Grievous, very grievous, marvellous, exceedingly marvellous. God hunted him as a lion, as a fierce lion hunts and runs down his prey. God was not only strange to him, but showed himself marvellous upon him, by bringing him into uncommon troubles and so making him prodigy, a wonder unto many. All wondered that God would inflict and that Job could bear so much. That which made his afflictions most grievous was that he felt God's indignation in them; it was this that made them taste so bitter and lie so heavy. They were God's witnesses against him, tokens of his displeasure; this made the sores of his body wounds in his spirit. (2.) It was growing, still growing worse and worse. This he insists much upon; when he hoped the tide would turn, and begin to ebb, still it flowed higher and higher. His affliction increased, and God's indignation in the affliction. He found himself no better, no way better. These witnesses were renewed against him, that, if one did not reach to convict him, another might. Changes and war were against him. If there was any change with him, it was not for the better; still he was kept in a state of war. As long as we are here in this world we must expect that the clouds will return after the rain, and perhaps the sorest and sharpest trials may be reserved for the last. God was at war with him, and it was a great change. He did not use to be so, which aggravated the trouble and made it truly marvellous. God usually shows himself kind to his people; if at any time he shows himself otherwise, it is his strange work, his strange act, and he does in it show himself marvellous. 3. He complains of his life, and that ever he was born to all this trouble and misery (Job 10:18, Job 10:19): "If this was designed for my lot, why was I brought out of the womb, and not smothered there, or stifled in the birth?" This was the language of his passion, and it was a relapse into the same sin he fell into before. He had just now called life a favour (Job 10:12), yet now he calls it a burden, and quarrels with God for giving it, or rather laying it upon him. Mr. Caryl gives this a good turn in favour of Job. "We may charitably suppose," says he, "that what troubled Job was that he was in a condition of life which (as he conceived) hindered the main end of his life, which was the glorifying of God. His harp was hung on the willow-tress, and he was quite out of tune for praising God. Nay, he feared lest his troubles should reflect dishonour upon God and give occasion to his enemies to blaspheme; and therefore he wishes, O that I had given up the ghost! A godly man reckons that he lives to no purpose if he do not live to the praise and glory of God." If that was his meaning, it was grounded on a mistake; for we may glorify the Lord in the fires. But this use we may make of it, not to be over-fond of life, since the case has been such sometimes, even with wise and good men, that they have complained of it. Why should we dread giving up the ghost, or covet to be seen of men, since the time may come when we may be ready to wish we had given up the ghost and no eye had seen us? Why should we inordinately lament the death of our children in their infancy, that are as if they had not been, and are carried from the womb to the grave, when perhaps we ourselves may sometimes wish it had been our own lot? II. Job's humble requests. He prays, 1. That God would see his affliction (Job 10:15), take cognizance of his case, and take it into his compassionate consideration. Thus David prays (Psa 25:18), Look upon my affliction and my pain. Thus we should, in our troubles, refer ourselves to God, and may comfort ourselves with this, that he knows our souls in adversity. 2. That God would grant him some ease. If he could not prevail for the removal of his trouble, yet might he not have some intermission? "Lord, let me not be always upon the rack, always in extremity: O let me alone, that I may take comfort a little! Job 10:20. Grant me some respite, some breathing-time, some little enjoyment of myself." This he would reckon a great favour. Those that are not duly thankful for constant ease should think how welcome one hour's ease would be if they were in constant pain. Two things he pleads: - (1.) That life and its light were very short: "Are not my days few? Job 10:20. Yes, certainly they are, very few. Lord, let them not be all miserable, all in the extremity of misery. I have but a little time to live; let me have some comfort of life while it does last." This plea fastens on the goodness of God's nature, the consideration of which is very comfortable to an afflicted spirit. And, if we would use this as a plea with God for mercy ("Are not my days few? Lord, pity me"), we should use it as a plea with ourselves, to quicken us to duty: "Are not my days few? Then it concerns me to redeem time, to improve opportunities, what my hand finds to do to do it with all my might, that I may be ready for the days of eternity, which shall be many." (2.) That death and its darkness were very near and would be very long (Job 10:21, Job 10:22): "Lord, give me some ease before I die," that is, "lest I die of my pain." Thus David pleads (Psa 13:3), "Lest I sleep the sleep of death, and then it will be too late to expect relief; for wilt thou show wonders to the dead?" Psa 88:10. "Let me have a little comfort before I die, that I may take leave of this world calmly, and not in such confusion as I am now in." Thus earnest should we be for grace, and thus we should plead, "Lord, renew me in the inward man; Lord, sanctify me before I die, for otherwise it will never be done." See how he speaks here of the state of the dead. [1.] It is a fixed state, whence we shall not return ever again to live such a life as we now live, Job 7:10. At death we must bid a final farewell to this world. The body must then be laid where it will lie long, and the soul adjudged to that state in which it must be for ever. That had need be well done which is to be done but once, and done for eternity. [2.] It is a very melancholy state; so it appears to us. Holy souls, at death, remove to a land of light, where there is no death; but their bodies they leave to a land of darkness and the shadow of death. He heaps up expressions here of the same import to show that he has as dreadful apprehensions of death and the grave as other men naturally have, so that it was only the extreme misery he was in that made him wish for it. Come and let us look a little into the grave, and we shall find, First, That there is no order there: it is without any order, perpetual night, and no succession of day. All there lie on the same level, and there is no distinction between prince and peasant, but the servant is there free from his master, Job 3:19. No order is observed in bringing people to the grave, not the eldest first, not the richest, not the poorest, and yet every one in his own order, the order appointed by the God of life. Secondly, That there is no light there. In the grave there is thick darkness, darkness that cannot be felt indeed, yet cannot but be feared by those that enjoy the light of life. In the grave there is no knowledge, no comfort, no joy, no praising God, no working out our salvation, and therefore no light. Job was so much ashamed that others should see his sores, and so much afraid to see them himself, that the darkness of the grave, which would hide them and huddle them up, would upon that account be welcome to him. Darkness comes upon us; and therefore let us walk and work while we have the light with us. The grave being a land of darkness, it is well we are carried thither with our eyes closed, and then it is all one. The grave is a land of darkness to man; our friends that have gone thither we reckon removed into darkness, Psa 88:18. But that it is not so to God will appear by this, that the dust of the bodies of the saints, though scattered, though mingled with other dust, will none of it be lost, for God's eye is upon every grain of it and it shall be forth-coming in the great day.”

“If I be wicked, woe is me,.... In this world, and to all eternity; afflictions will abide me here, and everlasting wrath hereafter: these are the woes that belong to a wicked man; that is, a profane and abandoned sinner, that lives in sin, and gives up himself to all manner of wickedness; the Targum is,"destruction to me from the great judgment;''utter ruin is my portion, as it is of all wicked and unrighteous persons, Isa 3:11, and if I be righteous, yet will I not lift up my head; live a holy life and conversation, be righteous in the sight of men, and behave so as not to know anything by himself, nor to be conscious of living in any known sin; yet he could not take any comfort from it, or have any pleasure in it, or speak peace to himself on account of it, or glory in it and make his boast of it; or lift up his head before God with boldness and confidence, who is so pure and holy, and his eyes so quick in discerning the sins of men: a good man derives his peace and comfort, not from his own righteousness, but from the righteousness of Christ, and puts his confidence in that only; he blushes, and is ashamed of his own; and cannot, nay, "dare not lift up his head", as Mr. Broughton, the Tigurine version, and others render it, through shame, being sensible that nothing of his own can stand before an holy God, or give him joy, peace, and pleasure there; the Targum adds, "before the ungodly"; but this a man may do before men, when he cannot before God: I am full of confusion; being in such a dilemma; let him be what he would, he was sure to have affliction, sorrow, and distress, so that he knew not what to say or do; or "reproach" (z), which he was loaded with by his friends, and was occasioned by his afflictions, they judging from thence that he was a wicked man, and justly punished for his sins; the word used signifies a burning heat, such as a than feels in his breast, and which flushes in his face, when he is filled with anger or with shame: therefore see thou mine affliction; not with his eye of omniscience, that he knew he did, but with an eye of pity and compassion, and deliver him from it; or, "I am full with seeing mine affliction", as Jarchi; or, "I am one that sees affliction" (a); that has an experience of it; sees it all around me, and nothing else, Lam 3:1; am a "spectator" (b) of it, as some render it; but not a mere spectator, but one that has a sensible feeling of it: some take this and the former clause both to be an address to God, and render them, "be satisfied with confusion, and behold my affliction", as Broughton and others (c); let the present calamity and confusion I am in be sufficient; let no more be laid upon me; be content with what has been done, and pity me, and do not lay thine hand heavier upon me, and add to my afflictions, as he thought he did, by what follows. (z) "contumeliis", Tigurine version; "ignominia", Pagninus, Montanus, Beza, Vatablus, Mercerus, Piscator, Michaelis. (a) "et videns afflictionem", Beza, Vatablus, Mercerus, Piscator. (b) "Et spectator adflictionis meae", Schultens. (c) "Satiare ignominia", Junius & Tremellius.”