His foot who should kiss, when his hand was the place.
God’s jealousy wheat is on full threshing-floor;
Man’s jealousy, chaff blown away out of door.
Know: Jealousy rise doth take, still, in our God;
Man’s jealousy budded from that noble rod.
Let’s quit that deep subject; take up plaint and wail,
Against the great hardship of love’s chastening flail.[229]230
I cry, for that He loves to hear all my cries.
My moans, lamentations, are what He enjoys.
How should I cease wailing at His fell caprice?