I am unwilling to acknowledge that you are right in being so
industrious to publish abroad my poor productions: I fear you are
actuated too much by favour towards me. As to myself, I am wholly
dissatisfied with my works on the Psalms: not so much on account of
the sense which I have given, which I believe to be true and genuine,
as on account of the verbosity, confusion, and undigested chaos of my
commentaries altogether. The Book of Psalms is a book, my Commentaries
on which, from want of time and leisure, I am obliged to conceive,
digest, arrange, and prepare all at once. For I am overwhelmed with
occupation. I have two sermons to preach in a day: I have to meditate
on the Psalms: I have to consider over the letters which I receive by
the posts (as they are called) and to reply to my enemies: I have to
attack the Pope’s Bulls in both languages: and I have to defend
myself. (To say nothing about the letters of my friends which I have
to answer, and various domestic and casual engagements to which I am
obliged to attend!)
You do well, therefore, to pray for me; for I am oppressed with many
afflictions, and much hindered from the performance of my sacred
duties;—my whole life is a cross to me! I have now in hand the xxii.
Psalm, “My God, my God, &c.;” and I had hopes of completing a
Commentary on the whole Book of Psalms, if Christ should give us a
sufficient interval of peace, so that I could devote my whole time and
attention to it: but now, I cannot devote a fourth part of my time to
such a purpose: nay, the time that I do devote to it, is but a few
stolen moments.
You do right in admonishing me of my want of moderation: I feel my
deficiency myself; but I find that I have not command over my own
mind: I am carried away from myself, as it were, by a certain vehement
zeal of spirit, while I am conscious that I wish evil to no one,
though all my adversaries press in upon me with such maddened fury: so
that, in fact, I have not time to consider who my enemies are, nor
what various treatment they require. Pray, therefore, the Lord for me,
that I may have wisdom to speak and write that which shall please him
and become me, and not what may appear becoming to them. And now,
farewell in Christ.
_Wittemberg_, A.D. 1521.