But he was
taken away from my frenzy, that with Thee he might be preserved for my
comfort; a few days after in my absence, he was attacked again by
the fever, and so departed.
At this grief my heart was utterly darkened; and whatever I beheld
was death. My native country was a torment to me, and my father's
house a strange unhappiness; and whatever I had shared with him,
wanting him, became a distracting torture. Mine eyes sought him
every where, but he was not granted them; and I hated all places,
for that they had not him; nor could they now tell me, "he is coming,"
as when he was alive and absent. I became a great riddle to myself,
and I asked my soul, why she was so sad, and why she disquieted me
sorely: but she knew not what to answer me. And if I said, Trust in
God, she very rightly obeyed me not; because that most dear friend,
whom she had lost, was, being man, both truer and better than that
phantasm she was bid to trust in. Only tears were sweet to me, for
they succeeded my friend, in the dearest of my affections.
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