God's anger

But we must not extend it so far upon this holy King: they were thoughts indeed, and thoughts of sorrow, but of godly sorrow: and he calls them his own, to show his near acquaintance with them, My sorrows. He was not a stranger to his own soul, his heart was not dead flesh. Satan had given him a fall, and he felt not that: sin had given him diverse falls, and he felt not them, neither: at last God undertakes him, wrestles with him, and he gives him a fall too: he felt that, yea and that made him feel all the rest. Now is he sensible of every pang and stitch: the least thorn makes him smart, and he cries out of the multitude of his sorrows. There be some that can drown their griefs in wine and music, as they did in Hinnom, the cry of the Infants with the noise of the Instruments: as if they would forget that they are the owners of their own thoughts, because they trouble them. Many deal with their souls, as some old women do with looking glasses: they turn the wrong side toward them, that they might not see the furrows of their own faces. They are loath to think of a reckoning, least they should despair of making even the arrearages. Men have the courage to dare to sin, but they dare not look on their souls as they are polluted with sin. I have heard of a melancholy man, that would not believe he had a ⟨p. 55⟩head, till his Physician made him a hat of lead, and put it on: which with the weight enforced him to cry, O his head. So men lost in sensual pleasures, scarce remember that they have a soul within them, until miseries, like talents of lead, or quarries of stone, with their heavy pressure squeeze out a confession.

But we must not extend it so farre upon this holy King: they were thoughts indeed, and thoughts of sorrow, but of godly sorrow: and he calls them his own, to shew his neere acquaintance with them, My sorrowes. He was not a stranger to his own soul, his heart was not dead flesh. Satan had given him a fall, and he felt not that: sin had given him diverse falls, and he felt not them, neither: at last God undertakes him, wrastles with him, and he gives him a fall too: he felt that, yea and that made him feel all the rest. Now is he sensible of every pang and stitch: the least thorne makes him smart, and he cryes out of the multitude of his sorrowes. There be some that can drowne their griefes in wine and musick, as they did in Hinnom, the cry of the Infants with the noise of the Instruments: as if they would forget that they are the owners of their own thoughts, because they trouble them. Many deale with their soules, as some old women do with looking glasses: they turne the wrong side toward them, that they might not see the furrowes of their own faces. They are loath to think of a reckoning, least they should despaire of making even the arrerages. Men have the courage to dare to sin, but they dare not look on their soules as they are polluted with sin. I have heard of a melancholy man, that would not beleeve he had a