which they had committed; over these it was proper to mourn.  So likewise another writer admonishes, saying—­“Weep over the dead, for the light has failed; and weep over the fool, for understanding has failed” (Eccles. xxii., 10).  Weep a little for the dead; for he has gone to his rest; but the fool’s life is a greater calamity than death.  And surely if one devoid of understanding is always a proper object of 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 departed.