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惡人的燈何嘗熄滅?患難何嘗臨到他們呢?神何嘗發怒,向他們分散災禍呢? 17 「Yet how often is the lamp of the wicked snuffed out? How often does calamity come upon them, the fate God allots in his anger?
你們說:神為惡人的兒女積蓄罪孽;我說:不如本人受報,好使他親自知道。 19 (It is said) God stores up a man's punishment for his sons. Let him repay the man himself, so that he will know it!
願他親眼看見自己敗亡,親自飲全能者的忿怒。 20 Let his own eyes see his destruction; let him drink of the wrath of the Almighty. 21:17-20 Verses 17 and 18 may be taken as exclamations and 19 and 20 as declarations.
就是惡人在禍患的日子得存留,在發怒的日子得逃脫。 30 that the evil man is spared from the day of calamity, that he is delivered from 21:30 Or ((man is reserved for the day of calamity, that he is brought forth to)) the day of wrath?
他要以谷中的土塊為甘甜;在他以先去的無數,在他以後去的更多。 33 The soil in the valley is sweet to him; all men follow after him, and a countless throng goes 21:33 Or ((as a countless throng went)) before him.
November 11 "He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass." (Psalm 72:6) AMOS speaks of the king's mowings. Our King has many scythes, and is perpetually mowing His lawns. The musical tinkle of the whetstone on the scythe portends the cutting down of myriads of green blades, daisies and other flowers. Beautiful as they were in the morning, within an hour or two they lie in long, faded rows. Thus in human life we make a brave show, before the scythe of pain, the shears of disappointment, the sickle of death. There is no method of obtaining a velvety lawn but by repeated mowings; and there is no way of developing tenderness, evenness, sympathy, but by the passing of God's scythes. How constantly the Word of God compares man to grass, and His glory to its flower! But when grass is mown, and all the tender shoots are bleeding, and desolation reigns where flowers were bursting, it is the most acceptable time for showers of rain falling soft and warm. O soul, thou hast been mown! Time after time the King has come to thee with His sharp scythe. Do not dread the scythe-it is sure to be followed by the shower. -F. B. Meyer. "When across the heart deep waves of sorrow Break, as on a dry and barren shore; When hope glistens with no bright tomorrow, And the storm seems sweeping evermore; "When the cup of every earthly gladness Bears no taste of the life-giving stream; And high hopes, as though to mock our sadness,, Fade and die as in some fitful dream, "Who shall hush the weary spirit's chiding? Who the aching void within shall fill? Who shall whisper of a peace abiding, And each surging billow calmly still? "Only He whose wounded heart was broken With the bitter cross and thorny crown; Whose dear love glad words of joy had spoken, Who His life for us laid meekly down. "Blessed Healer, all our burdens lighten; Give us peace, Thine own sweet peace, we pray! Keep us near Thee till the morn shall brighten, And all the mists and shadows flee away!"