The psalm is a hymn that is sung to an instrument, either a lyre or a psaltery. According to the spiritual or anagogical sense, the poem is a contemplation of truth that happens not only in the mind but also in music as with measured harmony. The psalm denotes actions that are done according to right reason; so as one sings he follows the way of an effective life; he sings who follows a life of contemplation. . . . Now the phrase for the end indicates that which is called the best because all pleasing things are appealing and must be desired.

Therefore, since Christ is referred to as David, the psalms that are titled for the end announce the end and victory of Christ. . . . Victory is granted to each one who is conquered by Christ; he overcomes the evil happening to him, and he is lifted from its midst as he is subjected to Christ. For Christ conquers no one who is unwilling but by persuasion since he is the Word of God. . . . Truly, since not only the songs of David but also of Asaph and even the sons of Korah are titled for the end it is not absurd for us to understand this is written about all the saints who receive the image of Christ.

After he has, at the right time, fled the one who has risen up against him (who is one in nature but becomes a multitude in evil alliance) and said, Those who afflict me are multiplied, and many rise up against me, and everything that follows in the psalm, then the beginning of his victory occurs. . . . Victory is the end of every contest, . . . and when you once taste victory, successive victories are achieved against the enemies.

Prayer is no small bond of love for God, developing in us the habit of converse with him and encouraging the pursuit of wisdom. . . . We are, however, not as aware as we should be of the benefit of prayer, for the reason that we neither apply ourselves to it with assiduity nor have recourse to it in accord with God’s laws. Typically, when we converse with people of a class above us, we make sure that our appearance and gait and attire are as they should be and dialogue with them accordingly. When we approach God, by contrast, we yawn, scratch ourselves, look this way and that, pay little attention, loll on the ground, do the shopping. If on the contrary we were to approach him with due reverence and prepare ourselves to converse with him as God, then we would know even before receiving what we asked how much benefit we gain. . . . [In receiving prayer] God, after all, looks not for beauty of utterance or turn of phrase but for freshness of spirit; even if we say what just comes into our mind, we go away with our entreaties successful. . . . Often we do not even need a voice. I mean, even if you speak in your heart and call on him as you should, he will readily incline toward you even then. In this way was Moses also heard, in this way also Hannah. No soldier stands by to scare people away, no bodyguard to cut short the proper moment; he is not the one to say, Now is not a good time to make your approach, come back later. Rather, when you come, he stands listening, even if it is lunchtime, even if dinnertime, even if the worst of times, even if in the marketplace, even if on a journey, even if at sea, even if inside the courtroom before a judge, and you call on him, there is no obstacle to his yielding to your entreaty as long as you call on him as you should . . . being of sober mind and contrite spirit, approaching him in a flood of tears, seeking nothing of this life, longing for things to come, making petition for spiritual goods, not calling down curses on our enemies, bearing no grudges, banishing all disquiet from the soul, making our approach with heart broken, being humble, practicing great meekness, directing our tongues to good report, abstaining from any wicked enterprise, having nothing in common with the common enemy of the world—I mean the devil, of course. . . . This is the way you should be righteous; and being righteous you will be heard, since you have such an advocate.

Invocation is not a matter of the voice, but it is posited . . . in solid faith.

Righteous people never have enough of prayer; instead, being in need and taking advantage of goodwill, they reap the fruit of prayer and continue offering supplication, realizing as they do the benefit coming from it.

The one who calls on the Lord must have true righteousness. Since Christ is righteous, the just person, the partaker of righteousness, must be a partaker of Christ. Lest saying God of my righteousness should give birth to pride, we can say this also: He has been made wisdom and righteousness for us, and he is our Redeemer. Consequently, to say God of my righteousness would be as if you said, God of my Lord.

You have made room for me in distress.^[1] God has made room for [the psalmist] in two ways; one, because he heard his prayer, and two, because he heard quickly. It is a double grace not just to be heard but to be heard quickly. To be heard quickly and immediately in calamity is what he called room, In distress you made room for me. An unexpected calm disrupts the surge of calamity; the foaming sea is turned into a lake; the storms and tempests are changed into dew; enemies are made friends; and suppliants become givers of praise. In distress you have made room for me. No longer as an infant do I open my mouth, for the providence of God, just like a mother, gives me food. In distress you have made room for me. When I was longing for food, he filled me from the fruit of the earth of grain, wine and oil, so that not I alone but all those subordinate to me could enjoy them.

The inventiveness and resourcefulness of God are demonstrated particularly in this, not only in his bringing on tribulations but also in providing great relief from it while they linger. This also demonstrates God’s power; it renders the sufferers more resigned when there is space for consoling the distressed spirit; the distress is not relieved, stiffening as it does the lax spirit and ridding it of indifference.

There are therefore two forms of tribulation: we either inflict tribulations and sufferings on ourselves as a result of mismanagement, or we fall foul of them despite our best intentions. The former tribulation requires us to show endurance and patience, the sufferers being aware that there is nothing harmful in what comes from God, and it is they themselves who reap the thorns they personally sow. The righteous request, by contrast, is a case of the latter tribulation of which we fall foul despite our best intention, when as often happens we are the victim of brigands, we suffer shipwreck or we come close to death by illness, in all of which cases the righteous request brings joy. It is in regard to them that David confirms that often when he was involved involuntarily in distress and begged God’s assistance, he was not only rescued but even was vouchsafed more generous providence—the sense of given space, since though tribulation constricts and depresses the soul, relief and joy expand and elate it.

Instead of allaying the disaster or restraining evil deeds, God sometimes offers courage for bravely bearing the disaster.

Whenever we realize the reasons why we suffer and are tested, then our minds are greatly opened.

When I called, God, from whom my righteousness derives, heard me, says the psalmist . . . from the cramped conditions of sorrow [God] has led me into the broad open fields of joy and gladness. . . . [The psalmist’s] heart does not live in a dingy little room, even though his persecutors pile in against him from without, trying their best to drive him into a corner. In grammatical terms there is a change of person, a sudden shift from the third, where the psalmist says he heard to the second, where he says, You led me into spacious freedom. If it is not done simply for the sake of variety and elegance of style, I wonder why he wanted in the first case to show everyone that he had been heard and in the second to address the one who heard him. Perhaps it was because after he had indicated how in the enlargement of his heart he had been heard, he preferred to talk with God; for this was another way of showing what it means to have our heart enlarged, to have God poured into our hearts already: it means that we can converse inwardly with him.

The sense of joy and good cheer that comes to us in critical times from God by the cooperation and presence of the Word of God, who encourages and saves us, is called room.

One who seeks mercy from God shows clearly that he does not demand the fruit of his own merit and the debt of his own zeal but that he wishes to benefit from the patience and kindness of God.

Their deceit, in fact, was in claiming God does not exercise providence, and their futile thinking was the conviction that the judge does not exercise surveillance. This thought constantly overtakes sinners: they think they will not pay the penalty, rejecting the judge’s role along with his providence. This is not so, however, he is saying, not so!

Futile is the word used of that thing that is empty, when there is something in name but nothing in substance. The Greeks have many names for their gods but not a trace of substance; so too in many other matters: wealth has a name but not a trace of substance; glory has a name but not a trace of substance; power has a name, and the name remains unsupported by fact. So who would be so heedless as to go in search of bare names of things and pursue hollow things that one ought avoid? Are not the pleasures and prosperity of life things of that kind? Do they not all mislead and deceive? Even if you cite glory and wealth and power, they are all futility. Hence Ecclesiastes also said, Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. This is the very reason the inspired author is distressed, seeing such absurdity in life. I mean, it is like this: if you saw someone avoiding the light to seek out darkness, you would say, Why are you doing this strange thing? So too the inspired author: Why do you love futility and seek falsehood?

What are the lies you are seeking? I will tell you right away. You all want to be happy, I know. Find me someone, let him be a robber, a villain, a fornicator, a sorcerer, sacrilegious, defiled by every imaginable vice, up to his neck in misdeeds and crimes of all sorts, who does not want to live a happy life? I know you all want to live happy lives. But what is it that makes a person’s life happy? That is something you are not all seeking after. You are seeking gold, because you imagine you will be happy with gold; but gold does not make one happy. Why seek after lies? Why do you want to get to the top in this world? Because you imagine you will be happy with honor from people and worldly triumphs; but worldly triumphs do not make one happy. Why seek after lies? And whatever else you may seek after here, when you seek it in a worldly way, when you seek it by loving earth, when you seek it by licking the dust of the earth, the reason you are seeking it is in order to be happy; but nothing at all that is of the earth will make you happy. . . . What you are seeking is deceptive; what you are seeking is lies.

Let us flee from lying, brothers, as if it were a sword to the soul. . . . And just as in war allies are distinguished from enemies by the watch word, so also in the war of human affairs the friends of God are recognized by truthfulness and by not spreading falsehood; the liars slaughter themselves with the sword of their own tongue. The mouth that does not perjure or lie surely is pleasing to God in its speech. For if we respect the friend and family member who does not lie, and when he asks for something, we grant it, how much more God who has no respect for lying grants benefit to him. When he sees a pure and spotless truthful tongue, he receives his words just like a gift on a tray. . . . As purple and a crown befit the king, so not lying befits the Christian. So those close to him respect him, friends, neighbors and business associates: the demons fear him, the angels love him, and as they rejoice they open the gates of the kingdom of heaven to him.

Why do you wish to be blessed by the most worthless things? Truth alone makes people blessed, the truth by which all things are true. For vanity is the preserve of those who exercise vanity, and all things are vanity. What more of wealth does a person gain by all his toil, all his labor under the sun?^[1] Why therefore are you shackled to the love of temporal things? Why do you pursue things that are ultimately inconsequential as if they were of paramount importance? This is no more than vanity and lying. For you want all those things that pass away like a shadow to stay with you on a permanent basis.

David seems to be speaking here of those who, when being tested and put through various trials, would rather do anything than find refuge in God. Why is it necessary, he asks, to be disturbed and upset at the conditions of the times? What makes you hand yourselves over to vanity, you heavy-hearted people? Why do you seek lies and leave the truth behind? Rather than being informed by these things, know that the Lord God is the one who watches and controls everything, the one who never ever deserts his own righteous ones but always does miraculous things for them. You yourselves, as the upright, know that the Lord is going to be near to you and me whenever you will call out to him.

Do you want to be happy? If you like, I will show you what will put it in your power to be happy. Continue with that text: How long with a heavy heart? Why do you love futility, and seek after lies? Know. Know what? That the Lord has magnified his holy one.^[1] Christ has come to our miseries; he was hungry, he was thirsty, he was tired, he slept, he performed wonders, he suffered evils, he was scourged, crowned with thorns, smeared with spittle, slapped around and beaten, nailed to a tree, wounded with a lance, laid in a tomb; but on the third day he rose again, all toil at an end, death dead. There you are, fix your eyes on his resurrection. Because hasn’t the Lord magnified his holy one, to the extent of raising him from the dead and giving him the honor of sitting at his right hand in heaven? He has shown you what you should savor, if you really wish to be happy. Here, you see, you simply cannot be. In this life you cannot be happy. Nobody can. . . . But [Christ] came down and . . . he took your bad things. . . . He promised us his life, but what . . . he did is even more unbelievable; he paid us his death in advance. As though to say, I am inviting you to my life, where nobody dies, where life is truly happy, where food does not go bad, where it provides nourishment and undergoes no diminishment. There you are, that is where I am inviting you, to the region of the angels, to the friendship of the Father and the Holy Spirit, to the everlasting supper, to be my brothers and sisters, to be, in a word, myself. I am inviting you to my life. . . . So now, while we are living in this perishable flesh, by a change of habits let us die with Christ, by a love of being just let us live with Christ. We are only going to receive the happy, blessed life, when we come to him who came to us and when we begin to be with him who died for us.

You see, he will not simply free me from the troubles that befall me but will also render me conspicuous and distinguished in victory; this, you see is the meaning of made an object of wonder.

Here is the great cry that reaches up to God. It is not that cry people make resulting from some intense release of air, but it is the pure and untouched outpouring of the words of the inner mind, which extend even to God. It must be realized there is a certain voice in the innermost heart which is not used as an organ of the body, but which a person, after he has entered his bedchamber and settled himself, cries out beyond his own body from the hidden gate of his feelings to him who alone is able to hear a voice of this type. Even if we do not read that Moses cried out with an audible voice, nevertheless it is said by God in Exodus: Why do you cry to me?^[1] It is the voice of every exile who cries to God about having earthly and ever-changing affairs. The Savior excludes this cry for approaching the Father when he says: Seek great things, and the small things will be added to you. Seek the heavenly, and the earthly will be added to you.^[2]

When there is a burdensome care, however many times I call out to God, he does not delay to hear me: this establishes, therefore, as an example to me and others, his providence. However, it is the custom of those who are bound by their miseries, who are pushed into the folly of bitterness, to complain against God and to say that he shows no concern for the affairs of mortals, nor does he govern human life with reason.

So, why is it, you ask, that many people are not heard? On account of the inappropriate requests they make. You see, in this case not to be heard is better than to be heard. So even if we were heard, we would not be happy about it; whereas even in the cases we were not heard, we would give praise even on that account. In other words, on the one hand, when we make inappropriate requests, we are better off for not getting them; on the other, when our asking is indifferent, God beguiles us into entreating him by delaying the response, which is no little gain. . . . So let us not desist when we are not heard, nor be distraught nor become numb, but persist with entreaty and request. God, after all, does everything for the best.

In the preceding psalm [David] suffered persecution from Absalom. He was ashamed because he was fleeing from his son, and he did not have the inner strength to make war. Now comes the prayer that hangs the tyrant and protects the one oppressed by his tyranny. Should you ask how he will overcome Absalom, how he will cast him down like Goliath, he responds, Armed with prayer. When I called on him, the God of my righteousness heard me. His prayer is uttered, and the tyrant hangs in the tree. In the same way when I sin, God arouses himself against me, but when I repent, he offers himself stretched out and trampled for my correction. Likewise, when we sin, God will arouse enemies against us. But, in our fight, the only thing we have to do is to seek the reasons for the conflict, and if we have sinned, correct it. If we do that, we will see the enemies fall before our eyes. It is, therefore, a rule for us that we do not avenge our enemies, because God will always stir them up against us on account of our sins. Do you wish to see the destruction of those opposing you: repent from your sins, and the enemies will fall.

After he said, Be angry, he added, And sin not. I propose it in the form of a question, as if he had said, Are you angry? Sin not. Although one struggles confused and trapped in the offense of a disturbed spirit because of present affairs, although there seem to be so many causes for indignation, nevertheless do not think that it is true what reason and discipline hand over to us, but the spirit disturbed by wrath presses on us. It is the greatest testimony that your own opinion lacks truth because those things that you know, that you speak, have not come from reason but from your experience.

When you are angry, do not sin further by thinking there is no divine providence. Instead, realize that much of what happens surpasses your understanding, and it is better to submit to the one who is aware and capable of everything. After all, if we allow surgeons to burn and cut the sick person on account of their skill, and do not get upset at their art despite the pain of the operation, how much more when we fall foul of more grievous and trying events that God, like a skillful surgeon, either applies to us or allows, like burning or the knife, do we not submit to such great skill by convincing ourselves that he does everything for our benefit, especially since nothing but good was likely to happen? So Are you angry? he asks; do not sin.

When he enjoined us to be angry and yet not to sin, it is plain that he did not tear up anger by the roots but restrained it, that in every correction we might preserve moderation and justice. . . . For he has enjoined those things that are just and useful for the interests of society.

He is not commanding us to be angry but making allowances for human nature. The anger that we cannot help feeling we can at least moderate. So, even if we are angry, our emotions may be stirred in accordance with nature, but we must not sin, contrary to nature. If someone cannot govern himself, it is intolerable that he should undertake to govern others.

He does not dismiss anger, note, for it is useful, nor does he eliminate wrath, this too proving helpful, after all, in dealing with wrongdoers and the negligent. Instead, he speaks of wrongful anger, irrational wrath. . . . In other words, it is all right to be angry for good reason, as Paul too was angry with Elymas, and Peter with Sapphira. Yet I would not class that as anger pure and simple but as right thinking, solicitude, good management. A father too is angry with his son, but out of care for him. In the former case the one settling scores gives way to anger rashly, whereas in the latter case the one who sets at right anothers’ behavior is the mildest person of all. Because God, too, whenever he is said to be angry, is angry not to take personal vengeance but to correct us. Let us also, accordingly, imitate this. Taking action against people in this way, after all, is divine, whereas the other way is human. God differs from us, however, not only in being angry for good reason but in the fact that anger in God is not a passion.

So let us too not be angry rashly. Anger, you see, has been instilled in us for a reason, not for sinning but for checking others in their sin, not for it to become a passion and an affliction but for it to prove a remedy for passions. . . . This is the kind of thing anger is, a useful instrument for stirring up our tardy spirits, for imparting energy to the soul, for rendering us more concerned in our reaction to the fate of the wronged, for moving us to action against conspirators. This is precisely the reason he says, Be angry, and do not sin.

Be angry, and do not sin can be understood in two ways. (1) Even if you are angry, do not sin. This means, even if there wells up a strong emotional reaction, which we cannot altogether help, because of our sinful inheritance, at any rate do not let reason and the mind collude with it. The mind has been reborn within and conformed with God. The upshot of this is that with the mind we serve the law of God, even if still in the flesh we serve the law of sin. (2) Go on, repent! That is, be angry with yourselves about past sins and do not sin anymore in the future.

Anger that does not lead to deeds motivated by anger is easily forgiven, as Scripture says: He that conquers his anger is better than he who captures a city.^[1] For this reason, the command to manage anger is given so that, if we are already angry, we may not sin through an act of indiscreet rashness. Because of our human brokenness we are not able to get complete control of our hot emotions, but with God’s help, we contain them by the power of reason that we are taught. So the blessed prophet permitted what is typical behavior, but forbade what incurs guilt. For if we should become angry and not restrain ourselves through our consciousness of the Lord, but instead should be kept from our wish by some obstacle we cannot avoid, then we must certainly bear the guilt for the action, even if are unable to carry out what we wanted. Another interpretation that finds favor with some is this: we ought to be angry at our past sins, so that we can escape evil in the present. For we cannot turn away new sins unless we condemn old ones with a curse that is truly worthy of praise. For what is repentance but being angry at oneself, so that one is horrified at what he has done and torments oneself, so that the angry judge may not be the one to do it.

Let there be a door to your mouth, that it may be shut when need arises, and let it be carefully barred, that none may rouse your voice to anger, and you pay back abuse with abuse. You have heard it read today: Be angry, and sin not. Therefore although we are angry (this arising from the motions of our nature, not of our will), let us not utter with our mouth one evil word, lest we fall into sin; but let there be a yoke and a balance to your words, that is, humility and moderation, that your tongue may be subject to your mind. Let it be held in check with a tight rein; let it have its own means of restraint, whereby it can be recalled to moderation; let it utter words tried by the scales of justice, that there may be seriousness in our meaning, weight in our speech and due measure in our words.

It is said that the greatest of the philosophers granted immunity from punishment to those crimes that had been committed through anger, but the divine Scripture says better: Be angry, and sin not. It preferred rather to cut off sin than to excuse it. It is better to find praise for mercy in an occasion for indignation than to be incited by wrath toward vengeance.

To be angry is human; to put an end to one’s anger is Christian.

When the day’s work is ended, thanksgiving should be offered for what has been granted us or for what we have done rightly therein and confession made of our omissions, whether voluntary or involuntary, or of a secret fault, if we chance to have committed any in words or deeds, or in the heart itself; for by prayer we propitiate God for all our misdemeanors. The examination of our past actions is a great help toward not falling into like faults again; wherefore the psalmist says, The things you say in your ears, be sorry for them on your beds.

Whatever you think of in your hearts when sudden and nervous excitements rush in on you, correct and amend with wholesome sorrow, lying as it were on a bed of rest, and removing by the moderating influence of counsel all noise and disturbance of wrath.

By these words he seems to teach that anyone lying on his bed ought to seek the reason within himself for those things that he has done throughout the day, and in light of those acts he has done against reason he ought to expose them and disapprove of them and feel their sting, for if this is done correctly from his bed he will not be drawn away from honest deeds.

Seek after righteousness, make an offering of righteousness: this is the greatest gift to God, this an acceptable sacrifice, this an offering of great appeal, not sacrificing sheep and calves but doing righteous things. . . . This sacrifice requires no money, no sword, no altar, no fire; it does not dissolve into smoke and ashes and smells; rather, the intention of the offerer suffices. Poverty is no impediment to it nor indigence a problem, nor the place nor anything else like that; instead, wherever you are, you are fit to offer sacrifice, you are priest, and altar, and sword and victim. This, you see, is what things of the mind and spirit are like. They enjoy greater facility; they have no need of outside prompting. . . . Whom is there left to fear if you have God as your ally? No one. Now, this is no little virtue, having confidence in him, putting trust in him. But along with righteousness he also asks this virtue of us, to put our trust in him to hope in him, to place no confidence in things of this life but rather detach ourselves from everything and fix our minds on him. After all, the things of the present life are like dreams and shadows and have even less substance than they do, appearing and departing at the same time; when present they cause their possessors awful worry. Hope in God, [by contrast], is immortal, unchangeable, immovable; it is subject to no alteration, stands firm and steady and renders unassailable the one who professes it in all diligence and with a proper disposition.

If you wish to explain what it is to hope in everything, we are going to say that it is nothing other than to become an heir of the kingdom of heaven, to receive comfort, to be called the children of God, to see God, to be satisfied by the righteousness for which one hungers and thirsts, to enjoy his abundant mercy and to live in all the things which the true God and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ promised.^[1]

If Christ himself was sacrificed for us, how much more fitting is it that we present ourselves to him as a sacrifice, so that we can find joy in imitating our king!

This is the chatter, the daily questioning of all foolish and unjust people. Some of them crave peace and tranquility in this earthly life yet do not find it because people are so tiresome. So blind are they to what is really happening that they dare to find fault with the way things are; wrapped up in their sense of their own goodness, they think the present times worse than the past. Or again, there are those who entertain doubts or despair of that future life that is promised to us. They often say, Who knows if it is true? Who has ever come back from the dead to tell us about these things? . . . By way of reply to the questioning of those who say Who has anything good? . . . . the psalmist says, The light of your countenance is stamped on us, O Lord. This light is the complete and true good of humankind; it is seen not with the eyes but with the mind. The psalmist’s phrase, stamped on us, suggests a coin stamped with the king’s picture. For the human individual has been made in God’s image and likeness, something that each has corrupted by sinning. Therefore true and eternal goodness is ours if we are minted afresh by being born again.

The speakers are those who, in some cases, distort the providence of God; in other cases they are people given over to pleasure, indulgence and luxury, notoriety and naked power. In their lives of such things as these they ask, Where are the good things from God? I am in poverty, and illness and hardship, at death’s door, the victim of contumely and abuse, while my neighbor enjoys the good life, luxury, influence, reputation and money. Some people look only for these things, bypassing things really worthwhile, as I say, virtue and a love of wisdom, whereas others, as I mentioned above, on those grounds distort the providence of God in asking, Where is God’s providence? Our lives are in such a mess, most of us are in need and poverty and at the end of our tether. What evidence is there of loving care? Those saying this, you see, behave exactly like someone struggling to see the sun in the unwavering brightness of midday and calling the light in question.

Many individuals read it in this way: A certain one will show us good things. For it is not that the many show good things but that the One shows good things; that is, the only begotten Son of God. To those who understand it this way, the word who indicates a provider of a certain distinguished nature, an individual and a being singular in number. They use this witness: A certain noble man.^[1] For in this passage the word certain denotes someone who is especially distinguished.

But because a human being lost this radiance of the divine countenance by sinning, it pleased God to assume the condition of a human countenance by being born in the flesh, in order that he might thereby teach us that we ought to be reborn in the Spirit. It pleased him to appear without sin in the likeness of sinful flesh so that he might cleanse us thoroughly from every sin and form again in us the distinctness of his image.

Indeed, in the same way the rays of the sun touch the face of one who looks at it, and in fact it is impossible for one who stands near to the sun not to feel it, so also it must be understood that the individual who is fully a partaker of God is the one who has meditated on the law of the holy word and who has surrendered his mind to understanding God. Which, I believe, the prophet indicates in this place when he says, The light of your countenance is manifested toward us, O Lord. The representation of the light that shines in your countenance is imprinted on us as it comes to us, and that very light is the expression of your countenance, so that one who is able to see the sign of the divine light that is manifested, immediately recognizes that God’s light is made in us. I think that this mystery is also declared in Exodus when the face of Moses, as he is speaking intimately with God, is glorified to the point that the people of Israel are not able to turn toward his glory, and after he puts on a veil the servant of God makes a speech to the people. Thus every spirit that is drawn totally to God and that yields to his truth that is unknown to many is made a partaker of his divine nature; he advances beyond the comprehension of many so that as he puts on the veil he guides the less knowledgeable by offering to them the things that are for their understanding. Moreover, it is obvious from the words of Psalm 66 that the face of God, about which is spoken and that illumines the mind of the one who is able to receive its rays, is the reason for our understanding: God have mercy on us, and bless us and let your face shine over us, so that we may know your way in the land, the salvation among all nations.^[1]

The meaning of this little verse is consistent with the verses that precede it. For what else is the light of the countenance of the Lord over his righteous ones than a heart full of joy? That very thing which we feel through the sensation of joy becomes a partaker of his divinity when it contemplates God.

The forms of your providence are inscribed and indelibly etched, as it were, on each person’s heart; after all, who is the provider and who the supplier of what is needed from without for life? In fact, perhaps it was for this reason also that you put us in a state of need, so that we might not forget the provider of what we need and receive. After all, you were capable first of making us feel no need, and then of giving us some nourishment sufficient for several days; you were not prepared to do this, however, causing us instead to look for it each day so that you might have the opportunity for supply, and those receiving it daily might not forget you as the giver. So who will set at nought, he asks, the manifest signs of your providence, or prove totally unmindful of it?

He did not say simply, You have made me the gift of joy but of heart, suggesting that the joy is not in external things, not in . . . gold or silver, not in clothing or groaning tables, not in the extent of sovereignty or the size of one’s house. Such joy is not of heart but of eyes only. Many people with these possessions, at any rate, think life not worth living; they carry around with them in their soul a furnace of despondency, exhausted by the multitude of concerns and oppressed by unceasing apprehension. . . . If present realities give you joy, and you learn God’s providence from them, gain a greater and deeper learning from future realities, for the reason that they are better, more stable and permanent. You see, if you believe God’s providence takes the form of you being in wealth and prosperity, let your having wealth in heaven bring you much more to this conviction. If, however, you inquire, Why is it that these things are kept in store in hope and are not immediately obvious? I should give this reply, that we believers regard the objects of hope to be more obvious than those that are obvious; such, after all, is the certainty of faith. But if you were to inquire again, Why is it that we do not gain rewards here and now? I should give this reply, that the present is the time for struggles and contests, the future is the time for wreaths and laurels. And this is an effect of God’s providence, the gathering together of difficulties and sweat in this brief and passing life, on the one hand, and on the other the continuance of laurels and wreaths throughout an everlasting and ageless eternity.

Joy is not to be sought outside oneself, by those who, still heavy in heart, love emptiness and chase falsehood. Rather, it is to be sought within, where the light of God’s face is stamped. For Christ dwells in the inner person, as the apostle says; and to Christ belongs the capacity to see truth. . . . But to those who chase after temporal things, who are certainly many, know nothing to say other than, Who has anything good to show us? They cannot see the good things that are true and certain within themselves. . . . When the mind is given over to temporal pleasures, [when it] is always burning with desire and cannot be satisfied, when it is stretched this way and that by all sorts of conflicting and miserable thoughts, it does not allow itself to see the good that is uncompounded. . . . Such a mind, filled with countless images, is so distended by the rise and fall of temporal goods, that is to say, by the succession of its wheat, wine and olives, that it is incapable of fulfilling the command, Think about the Lord in goodness, and seek him in simplicity of heart.^[1] For the proliferation of which we speak is at the opposite end of the spectrum from that simplicity. And that is why the person of faith rejoices and says, In peace, in Being-Itself,^[2] I will rest and fall asleep, leaving aside those many people who are completely fragmented by their desire for temporal things and ask, Who has . . . when all the time these things are to be sought on the inside, in the simplicity of heart, rather than on the outside, by using the eyes. Believers rightly hope for a complete separation of the mind from mortal things and for the opportunity to forget the miseries of this world. This is fittingly and prophetically described by the terms rest and sleep, which is where the greatest peace can be disturbed by no commotion. But this is not within our grasp at present, in this life. Instead, it is something to be hoped for after this life. This is something that even the verbs themselves, which are in the future tense, show; for what is said is neither I rested and fell asleep nor I rest and fall asleep but I will rest and fall asleep. Then this corruptible nature will be clothed in incorruption and this mortal nature will be clothed in immortality; then will death be swallowed up in victory. This is what lies behind the text, If we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it in patience.^[3]

Nothing, you see, is so calculated to bring peace as knowledge of God and possession of virtue, banishing afar conflict of the passions and not allowing one to be at odds with oneself. Unless . . . you enjoy this kind of peace, then no matter if you are at peace abroad and no enemy assaults you, you are more miserable than the most embattled people in the world. You see, neither Scythians, nor Thracians, nor Indians, nor Moors nor any other hostile races are capable of mounting such a conflict as an uneasy conscience gnawing at your soul, as untamed desire, as love of money, lust for power, addiction to mundane affairs. . . . Jealous, slanderous, greedy and rapacious people, you see, carry around with them everywhere this warfare, bearing within them enemies lying in ambush. No matter where they retreat to, they cannot avoid conflict; even if they stay at home and go to bed, they are under attack from clouds of arrows, disturbances more violent than pounding seas, massacres and uproar and lamentation and other calamities more disastrous than those occurring in battle. Righteous persons, on the contrary, are not in this predicament; rather, in their waking hours they enjoy life, and in nighttime they take their rest with great satisfaction.

Even if grief, calamities, temptations, disasters are not lacking to me in this present life, nevertheless there is a future time for me in which I will depart from the body and sleep in peace.

I will lie down and rest as I await the future age and the reward of a right life, and as I have been made secure beyond every disturbance because of my hope.