He brought forth butter in a lordly dish, but he had a tent pin ready for the temples of his guest. When heart and lip so widely differ, the man is a monster, and those whom he assails are afflicted indeed. His words were softer than oil. He wants to fly away. If he could not resist as an eagle, he would escape as a dove.
Inward grief knows nothing of place.
Moreover, it is cowardly to shun the battle which God would have us fight. We had better face the danger, for we have no armour for our backs. Even the dove of old found no rest till she returned to her ark, and we amid all our sorrow may find rest in Jesus. Woe is me that I am constrained to dwell with Mesech, and to have mine habitation among the tents of Kedar. Like as the hart desires the water brook, so longeth my soul to be with thee, O God.