Pleasure does not satisfy, and even the idea of securing happiness in this world by an unusual degree of righteousness, cannot be realised. There is no allusion to the truth that we are dead in sins and offences. It is the result in the mind of the writer of the experience which he has gone through, and which he sets before us. His own capacities do not make him happy nor the gratifying of his own will, even when he has everything at command. Consequently, if there be any joy, it is with the sense that it cannot be retained.
Wisdom avails no more than folly.
The difference between them is as great as that between light and darkness. But one event happens to all men, and much reflection only makes us hate life. The heart becomes weary of research, and after all one dies like another. The world is ruined as a system, and death cuts the thread of thoughts and projects, and annihilates all connection between the most skilful workman and the fruit of his labours. There is a time for all things, and man must do each in its season, and enjoy that which God gives on his way.