[9.] But I do not wish to speak of these things, but I am constrained by my grief. Forgive me: I am forced by sorrow to utter many things, even those which I do not wish. I see that our wound is grievous, that our calamity is beyond comfort, that woes have overtaken us greater than the consolation. We are undone. “O that my head were waters and mine eyes a fountain of tears” ( Jer. ix. 1 ), that I might lament. Let us weep, beloved, let us weep, let us groan.