A his soul), hear what he says as he prays: "Let it be enough now, O Lord. Take my soul from me, for I am no better than my fathers." And that more terrible thing, the crowning point of punishment, the head of all evils, the penalty for every sin—this he asks for in the order of prayer, and wishes to receive as a favor. So much more terrible than death is despondency B. For in order to escape the latter, he takes refuge in the former.
5. Here I wish to resolve a certain question for you, for I know your desire for the resolution of such matters. What, then, is this question? If he considered death lighter than despondency, why did he leave his country and people to flee, so as not to fall into death? And if he was fleeing from it then, why does he seek it now? I do this so that you may know from this, above all, how despondency is more grievous than death. For when that C fear alone agitated him, it was natural that he should do everything to escape it. But once this [despondency], having taken up its seat, showed its true nature—gnawing, consuming, devouring him with its teeth, and becoming unbearable to him—then, at last, he judged that which is the most grievous of all to be lighter than it.
In the same way, Jonah also, fleeing from that [despondency], took refuge in the latter, and he too asks for death, saying: "Take my soul from me, for it is better for me to die than to live" (Jon. 4.3). And David also, whether speaking in his own person or writing a psalm for others who are lamenting, indicates this self-same thing. "For when the sinner stood before me," he says, "I was dumb and was humbled, and I kept silent from good, and my pain was renewed. My heart was hot within me, and in my meditation a fire shall be kindled." (Ps. 38. 2-4). He designates that fire, which is more vehement than this [physical] fire, as the passion of despondency. Therefore, no longer bearing its wounds and pains, he says: "I spoke with my tongue." But what do you say, tell me? He too asks for death, saying: "Make me to know, O Lord, my end, and what is the number of my days, that I may know what I am lacking" (Ib. v. 5). With different words, but the same thoughts, he utters the things of Elijah. For what he said, "For I am no better than my fathers," this [David] also signified by saying: "Make me to know, O Lord, my end, that I may know what I am lacking." Why was I left behind, he says, and am lacking, and linger in the present life while others have departed? And he seeks it so—whether he speaks for himself or for those in whose person he speaks—that he craves to learn the time of his presence here, even though he is not present. "Make me to know," he says, "my end," so that he might reap from this the greatest pleasure. Thus the dreaded becomes desirable because of the unbearable pain of despondency and the fire kindled in his mind. For "in my meditation a fire shall be kindled." Expect, therefore, great rewards for such punishment, many prizes, D unspeakable compensations; bright, very flourishing crowns for such struggles. For not only doing some good thing, but also suffering some evil, holds many rewards and great prizes. And I will now direct my speech to this point, which is very useful for both you and all, and capable of spurring [the soul] to patience and arousing the heart, not allowing it to be softened or to yield to the sweat of afflictions.
6. That despondency, then, is more grievous than all evils, and is the crowning point and head of all calamities, our discourse has sufficiently demonstrated. It remains, then, to make a comparison between virtuous achievements and sufferings, so that you may clearly learn that not only for achievements are there rewards, but also for sufferings, and those rewards are very great—not less, perhaps, than for achievements, and indeed sometimes even more so for sufferings. And let us introduce, if you please, the great athlete of patience who shone in both ways: the adamant, the rock, he who was born in the land of Ausitis but who illuminated the whole inhabited world by the excellence of his own virtue. And let us mention his achievements and his sufferings, so that you may know from what source he shone the more. A What then were his achievements? "My house," he says, "was open to every passerby, and was a common harbor for travelers"; and he possessed almost all his own [substance] for those in need. "For I was," he says, "an eye to the blind, and a foot to the lame. I was a father to the helpless, and I searched out the cause which I knew not, and I broke the grinders of the unrighteous, and I snatched the plunder out of their teeth" (Job 29. 15-17). The helpless, whatever need they ever had, did not go disappointed, nor did anyone leave my door with an empty bosom (Job 31. 16, 34). Do you see the different kinds of human kindness, and the varied harbors of almsgiving, and how he helped those in need in every way? Do you see him supporting poverty, correcting the widow, standing up for those being wronged, and being terrible to those who used them insolently? For his zeal did not end merely with standing B by and becoming an ally (this is what many do), but went even to the point of bringing the matter to an end, and with great vehemence. "For I broke," he says, "the grinders of the unrighteous," establishing his own providence as a bulwark against their contentiousness. And he countered not only the insults of men, but also the treacheries of nature with his care, correcting its shortcomings by the abundance of his own succor. Since it was not possible to restore their [proper] limbs, yet for the crippled, the eyes, and for the lame, the feet—he became for them a substitute for their limbs; and through him, both those who were blinded in their eyes and those who were cut in their legs, the former saw, and the latter walked. What could be equal to this philanthropy of his? You know also his other virtues—so as not to make the discourse long by recounting everything—[you know] his gentleness, his meekness, his temperance, his exactness, [and] how, being fierce to those who wrong others (for this is truly admirable), [alt-version omitted]