They that fear the hoary frost, the snow shall fall upon them.

“JOB MEANS TO SAY THIS: there is no memory or trace left of my former prosperity. And that is even worse than my misfortune itself. "Oh, that one would indeed weigh the wrath that is upon me and take up my sorrow in a balance together!" And Job now tries to describe his sorrows. "I perceive my food to be loathsome [as the smell of a lion]." I wish to die, but I do not die. I suffer so because I am a man and not a stone; I am an ephemeral human being, I do not enjoy the aid from above. Among my nearest relations, some pass me by without seeing me; others trample me underfoot. No trace of my former prosperity remains.”

“Over those that fear the frost, the snow rushes down. For the frost congeals below, but the snow falls down from above. And often there are persons, who, while they fear temporal adversities, expose themselves to the severity of everlasting visitation. Concerning whom it is rightly declared by the Psalmist, There were they in great fear where no fear was. For this man already longs to defend the truth with freedom, yet being affrighted in that very longing that he feels, he shrinks from the indignation of a human power, and while on earth he fears man in opposition to the truth, he undergoes from heaven the wrath of Truth. That man, conscious of his sins, is already desirous to bestow upon the needy the things which he is possessed of, yet dreads lest he himself come to need them so bestowed. When, being alarmed, he provides with reservation for his own use succours of the flesh for the future, he starves the soul from the sustenance of mercy, and when he fears want on earth, he cuts off from himself the eternal plenitude of the heavenly cheer. Therefore it is well said, Over those that fear the frost, the snow rushes down. In that all who apprehend from below what ought to be trodden under the feet, undergo from above what is deserving of apprehension, and when they will not pass by what they might have trodden beneath them, they meet with a judgment from heaven which they can in no sort sustain. Now by acting thus they attain the glory of the world in time, but what will they do in the hour of their call, when terror-stricken they quit at once all the things which they kept here with grievous apprehensions?”

“Job answering said. As is clear from what precedes, Eliphaz had noted three things in Job's lament: despair, because he seemed to desire not to be; impatience, or immoderate sorrow, on account of the sighs and groans which he said he was suffering; and presumption, because he had asserted himself to be innocent. And the whole of Eliphaz's preceding speech turned upon these three things, in which — to show that Job had been subject to sin and had therefore endured adversities — he proposed, among other things, the frailty of the human condition, from which no one can presume himself immune from sin: from this, then, Job takes the beginning of his response. For it is certain that, from the frailty of the human condition, no man is immune from sin, however just he may appear; yet in just men there are not grave and mortal sins, but there are in them light and venial sins, which arise from negligence and subreption. But if what Eliphaz was striving to assert were true — namely, that the adversities of the present life are the proper punishments of sins — it would follow that men would suffer grave adversities on account of grave sins, and light ones on account of light sins, and thus just men would never be subject to grave adversities, which is clearly false. This argument, therefore, Job proposes against Eliphaz's disputation; hence it is said, Job answering said: "Oh that my sins, by which I have deserved wrath, and the calamity that I suffer, were weighed in a balance." As if to say: I cannot say that there are no sins in me, yet I trust that they are not mortal but venial in me; if, therefore, for sins of this sort I have deserved from God wrath, that is, punishment, the calamity and the sin ought to have been weighed in the balance of justice, so that, according to equality, the one might correspond to the other. But the adversity appears much greater, and this is what he adds: "as the sand of the sea," that is, incomparably — this, namely the calamity, would appear graver, if Eliphaz's opinion were true, that adversities in this world are inflicted only according to sins, since it appears that many wicked men, in comparison with whose sins Job's sins were as nothing, endure only certain light adversities. From this he further proceeds to excuse himself from the sorrow which he had expressed in words, saying, "wherefore also my words are full of sorrow," which he infers by way of conclusion, because his sorrow was caused by the magnitude of the adversity. He then adds a twofold cause of his sorrow: for sorrow is caused sometimes by things which one has already suffered, and sometimes by things which one fears to suffer. First, then, he assigns the cause of his sorrow from the things he had already suffered, saying, "for the arrows of the Lord are in me," in which he shows that he was afflicted unexpectedly, for an arrow comes from afar and unexpectedly; and to show the magnitude of the blow he adds, "the indignation whereof hath drunk up my spirit," that is, it did not permit me to breathe, but took away entirely whatever strength or consolation could have been in me. Then he shows the cause of his sorrow from the things he feared to suffer, saying, "and the terrors of God war against me": for those afflicted are wont to be consoled by hope of a better state, but when after affliction someone fears again similar or greater things, no consolation seems to remain. But someone might say: you indeed have a cause of sorrow, but you ought not, on account of it, to break forth into words of sorrow. Against this Job responds from what is found in other animals. For man is similar to other animals in his sensitive nature, wherefore those things which follow upon sensitive nature are naturally present in man just as in other animals; but what is natural cannot be wholly avoided. Now it is found in other animals that they express the affliction of the heart by voice, and this he signifies, saying: "Will the wild ass bray when he hath grass? Or will the ox low when he standeth before a full manger?" As if to say, no; but the wild ass brays and the ox lows when they lack necessary food, in which it appears to be natural to animals that they express interior affliction by voice. Again, someone might say that it is natural for sorrow once conceived to be expressed by voice, but that it does not pertain to the wise man to conceive sorrow in his heart from just any causes, as the Stoics held. But Job shows this to be against sensitive nature: for sense cannot but flee from what is harmful or unfitting, and therefore he says, "Or can that which is unsavoury be eaten, that is not seasoned with salt?" As if to say, no, since indeed things of this insipid sort are not suited to the delight of taste; and likewise the heart of man cannot willingly accept things that are not delightful, and much less those that are bitter and harmful, wherefore he adds, "Or can a man taste that which, when tasted, brings death?" As if to say, no; and just as this is impossible in the exterior sense, so it is impossible that those things which are apprehended through the interior senses as harmful should be received without sorrow. But because, although the wise man suffers sorrow, his reason nevertheless is not absorbed by sorrow, Job consequently shows that although he suffered sorrow, yet there was in him the greatest solicitude and fear that he might guard himself against sorrow, lest through sorrow he be led into something vicious; and to avoid this he preferred death, and to express this he says, "the things my soul before would not touch, now, through anguish, are my meats," as if to say: the things which my soul formerly abhorred, it now delightfully desires. And what these things are he shows, saying, "Who will grant that my request may come?" And that it may be shown that he proposes this request not merely with the lips but also from the depths of his heart, he adds, "and that God may give me what I look for?" And what this request is he shows, adding, "and that he that hath begun," namely to afflict me, "may destroy me," namely by death; and this is what he adds, "that he may let loose his hand and cut me off?" By the hand of God he means the divine power by which God himself had afflicted him — which hand seems, in a certain way, to be bound by the divine will and mercy while it ceases to afflict, but is, in a certain way, loosed while the divine blow is brought to the end of slaying. And because he had said that the things he formerly would not touch are now his food, he shows how this is to be understood, namely that death, which had been horrible to him, has now become sweet; hence he adds, "and this be my comfort, that afflicting me with sorrow," namely God, "he spare not," that is, that he not withdraw his hand but bring me to death. And why he desires this he shows by what he adds, "and I will not contradict the words of the Holy One," that is, of God — that is, his judgments or sentences by which he has afflicted me. For Job feared lest, through many afflictions, he be led into impatience, such that reason could not repress sorrow; now the nature of impatience is when someone's reason is so led away by sorrow that it contradicts the divine judgments; but if someone indeed suffers sorrow according to the sensual part, while reason conforms itself to the divine will, this is not the defect of impatience; and thus Eliphaz argued against Job in vain when he had said, "now the scourge is come upon thee, and thou hast fainted": for although he sorrowed, yet he had not fainted. Then he assigns the reason, from his own frailty, why he feared lest he be brought to the point of contradicting the words of the Holy One. For a fear of this kind could be removed for a twofold reason: first, if he had such strength of reason that it could in no way be overcome, as is the case with those whose free will has been confirmed by grace; but he did not feel this strength in himself, wherefore he says, "for what is my strength, that I can hold out?" namely, whatever tribulations may come; secondly, if it were necessary to bear the tribulations and sorrows only for some brief time; and therefore, to remove this too, he adds, "or what is my end, that I should act patiently?" As if to say: what limit has been set to my tribulations, such that, waiting until it, I might presume that I would preserve patience? And in explanation of these he adds, saying, "neither is my strength the strength of stones": for the strength of stones is without sense; but the strength of man exists together with a sense of the things that are harmful, on account of which he adds, "nor is my flesh of brass," that is, without sense, because however strong the reason of mortal man may be, yet it is necessary that, on the part of the flesh, he experience the sense of sorrow. And by this the reproach of Eliphaz, who charged blessed Job with sorrow, is excluded: for although strength of mind was present in blessed Job, yet on the part of the flesh there was present a sense of sorrow, which sorrow followed. At the same time, by this the opinion of the Stoics, who said that the wise man does not sorrow, is also refuted — an opinion which Eliphaz seems to have held; but blessed Job intends to defend this: that the wise man indeed sorrows, but strives through reason not to be led into what is unfitting, which the Peripatetics also held. "Behold, there is no help for me in myself," etc. Job had shown in what precedes that he had reasonably felt sorrow and uttered words of sorrow, yet that he was not absorbed by sorrow on account of what he had suffered; but because sometimes a man, although he suffers certain adversities, so guards himself against adversities by his own and another's help and comfort that he conceives from them little or no sorrow, blessed Job wishes to show that he was destitute of remedies of this kind, so that from this it may appear more evidently that he had reasonably uttered words of sorrow. And first indeed he shows that he was destitute of the aforesaid remedies on his own part, when he says, "behold, there is no help for me in myself": for even if some of his goods had been plundered, he could bear this without sorrow if he could help himself to recover the lost goods and to avenge the injury inflicted; but he could not do this, being destitute of all his riches, his children, and the health of his own body. Again, there are many things we cannot do by ourselves which we can do through friends; and therefore Job secondly shows that he was also destitute of the help of friends, when he says, "and my kinsfolk also," that is, his household and domestics, "have departed from me." And that this was not without their fault, he shows, adding, "he that taketh away mercy from his friend," namely in the time of misery, "forsaketh the fear of the Lord," that is, the reverence which he ought to have toward God, on account of whom, and in whom, one's neighbor is to be loved: "he who does not love his brother whom he sees, how can he love God whom he does not see?" as is said in John 4:20. Then he shows that he was also forsaken by his kinsmen, saying, "my brethren," that is, his relatives, "have passed me by": he speaks after the likeness of those walking together on a road, as when one falls into a pit and the others nonetheless go on ahead, leaving him behind. And indeed they would be in some way excusable if, after having brought help for some time, they had abandoned him either out of weariness or out of despair of helping; and therefore, that they may be inexcusable, he shows that he was immediately and suddenly deserted by them, which he signifies when he adds, "as a torrent that passeth swiftly in the valleys," which moves very quickly. And lest they believe they have done this with impunity, he adds, "they who fear the frost, snow shall fall upon them," as if to say: he who, out of fear of a lesser danger, departs from justice and mercy will be led into greater dangers; wherefore also Job's brethren, who passed him by unwilling to have compassion, will themselves bear sorrow in their own losses. And that their dangers will be in the future without remedy he shows, adding, "at the time wherein they shall be scattered," that is, when they shall incur certain dangers, "they shall perish," namely entirely, "and after it groweth hot, they shall be melted out of their place." He speaks under the metaphor of the snow, of which he had made mention, which, when it has been much hardened by freezing, is not immediately dissolved at the first warmth, but when it is not yet frozen, it is immediately dissolved and flows at the ray of the sun: this, then, is what he says, "after it groweth hot, they shall be melted out of their place," that is, at the very first onset of adversity, as of a certain heat, all their prosperity will be dissolved. And he shows the cause, adding, "the paths of their steps are entangled": for that which is entangled turns back upon itself by a certain twistedness; the paths, therefore, are entangled of those who, in their kinsmen and friends, seek nothing but their own advantage, and on this account, in the time of prosperity, feign friendship, but in the time of adversity forsake it. But men who fraudulently seek their own advantage for the most part fall short of their hope, and therefore he adds, "they shall walk in vain": for some are said to walk in vain when they fall short of the goal of their walking; and not only will their hope be emptied, but also the contrary will happen to them, wherefore it follows, "and shall perish," that is, they shall be utterly destroyed. Thus, then, he had help neither in himself, nor in his household, nor in his kinsmen. He then shows that neither did he have it in other friends, wherefore he says, "consider the paths of Theman, the ways of Saba," in which regions he seemed especially to have had friends — for Eliphaz too had come from Theman — "and wait a little while," namely, considering whether any came by these roads to bring me help; and this you will not see, "because they are confounded," namely to come to me, "because I hoped," that is, because it was a time in which I ought to have hoped for help from them: for men who are unwilling to give help are ashamed to visit those from whom they reckon that help could reasonably be sought of them; "they came also," namely, some of them, "even to me, and were covered with shame," namely because they did not give me help, though they recognized that they owed it. Nor is it surprising in the case of others, since even you, who seem wiser, fail in this too, wherefore he adds, "now you are come, and now, seeing my affliction, you are afraid," namely lest perhaps it should be necessary for you to bring me help; but do not be afraid, for I have not sought your help in anything: for neither do I require of you that you should assist me with money, and this is what he says, "did I say: bring to me, and give me of your substance?" Nor have I sought from you help in war against enemies, and this is what he adds, "deliver me from the hand of the enemy, and rescue me out of the hand of the mighty?" Nor have I sought from you the help of teaching, and this is what he says: "did I say: teach me," namely, in speculative matters, "and I will hold my tongue: and if I have been ignorant of anything perhaps, instruct me?" namely, in matters of action. Nor do you only fail to offer me help, but also, as much as is in you, you further afflict me with words, and this is what he adds, "why have you detracted from the words of truth?" namely, those which I first uttered in my lamentation, which Eliphaz seemed to reprove, as has been said. And that this detraction may be shown to be inexcusable, he excludes all those things by which some reprover might be excused from detraction. The first of these is when someone of greater authority reproves another for a fault, and this he excludes, saying, "whereas there is none of you that can reprove me." The second is when someone utters hard words against another for that person's benefit and not to exasperate him, and this is what he adds, "to rebuke only, and not for advantage, do you compose your words," that is, you carefully compose them so that they may not seem to be spoken lightly. The third is when someone fortifies the words he utters against another with effective arguments, and this he removes, saying, "and you utter words into the wind," as if to say: your words are empty, having no strength of reason. The fourth is when someone reproves another at the time and in the state in which it can be presumed that he will not thereby become worse but better; but if someone wishes to reprove another at a time when he is dismayed in spirit and disposed to anger, he seems to wish not correction but subversion, and therefore he says, "you rush upon the fatherless, and you endeavor to overthrow your friend": he calls himself "the fatherless" because, set in sorrow, he was destitute of all help. And lest anyone should think that he said this fearing contention with them, as though he did not presume upon the truth of his own opinion and the justice of his own cause, he adds, "howbeit, finish what you have begun," so that from mutual disputation the truth may shine forth; wherefore he adds, "give ear," that is, listen, "and see," that is, consider, "whether I lie": for this is the first impediment to finding the truth through disputation, when someone is unwilling to hear what is said by his opponent. The second impediment is when someone responds to what he hears with clamor and insult, and to remove this he says, "answer, I beseech you, without contention": for contention, as Ambrose says, is "an assault upon truth relying on the confidence of clamor." The third impediment is when someone in disputation aims not at truth but at victory and glory, as happens in litigious and sophistical disputations: "and speaking, judge ye that which is just," that is, that you grant what seems true to you, and deny what seems false. And, if you do this, "you shall not find iniquity on my tongue," namely, anything against the justice which is owed to one's neighbor, "neither shall folly sound in my jaws," that is, anything against the wisdom by which one rightly thinks concerning God: for he intended, both concerning divine things and concerning human things, to defend and prove the truth.”

“What time they wax warm they vanish,.... The ice and the snow, which, when the weather becomes warm, they melt away and disappear; and in like manner, he suggests his friends ceased to be friends to him in a time of adversity; the sun of affliction having looked upon him, they deserted him, at least did not administer comfort to him: when it is hot they are consumed out of their place; when it is hot weather, and the sun has great strength then the waters, which swelled through the floods and fall of rain and snow, and which when frozen, looked black and big as if they had great depth in them, were quickly dried up, and no more to be seen in the place where they were; which still expresses the short duration of friendship among men, which Job had a sorrowful experience of.”

“Them. They shall run from a less to a greater evil. (Calmet) — Septuagint, “Those who respected me, have now fallen upon me, like snow or ice; ( 17 ) as when it is consumed with heat, it is no longer known where it was: ( 18 ) thus I have been abandoned by all, lost and expelled from my house.” Consider, ( 19 ) Hebrew continues, in the comparison of the torrents, ( 15 ) “which are hidden by the ice and snow,” and are left dry and of no service in summer, when most wanted. (Haydock) — So these friends stood by me only in the days of my prosperity. (Calmet) — Luther and the Dutch version follow the Vulgate, Amama says, improperly. He proposes that of Pagnin, “which (torrents) are darkened by the ice. Snow is concealed in (Montanus, upon) them.” (Haydock)”

“P. refers this to the torrents, " which are blackish by reason of the ice, and wherein the snow is hid." Sept, as well as St Jerome, understood the term of persons who feared, and they took the sentence as proverbial, signifying that those who fear and shun a slight evil, are often overtaken by one that is greater. Syr. Chald. favor this version. •”