To Silvanus the Primate, on the Death of His Wife

I know that my words of comfort come somewhat late, but I have not delayed sending them without reason. I thought it right to let the violence of your grief run its course. The cleverest doctors never apply their remedies while a fever is at its height; they wait for a good moment to use the resources of their skill. So, reckoning how sharp your anguish must be, I have let these few days go by. If I myself was so distressed and filled with such sorrow by the news, what must a husband have suffered, her partner under the yoke, made, as Scripture says, one flesh with her, when a union bound fast both by time and by love was violently torn apart? Such pangs are only natural. But let reason find comfort by reminding you that humanity is frail and sorrow universal, and by reminding you also of the hope of the resurrection and of the will of him who orders our lives wisely. We must accept the decrees of a wisdom beyond all reckoning, and acknowledge that they are for our good. Those who reflect like this, in a spirit of piety, will reap the rewards of piety, and, set free from excessive mourning, will spend their lives in peace. On the other hand, those whom sorrow makes its slaves will gain nothing by their wailing; they will live weary lives and grieve the Guardian of us all at the same time. So receive, my most honored friend, a father’s encouragement: “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. He has done whatever pleased him. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” [a]