Charge them that are ryche in this worlde shal they be not exceadyng wyse, and that they truste not in the vncertayne ryches, but in the lyuyng God, which geueth vs aboundauntly al thynges to enioy them,
and yet can not tell what shall happen to morowe. For what thynge is youre lyfe? It is euen a vapoure that appeareth for a lyttel tyme, and then vanysheth awaye:
Wherfore if God so clothe the grasse, which is to day in the felde, and to morowe shall be cast in to the fournace: shall he not much more do the same vnto you, o ye of lytle fayth?
As for these thynges, my hande had made them all, and they are all created, sayeth the Lorde. Whyche of them shall I then regarde? Euen hym, that is of a lowly troubled spyryte, and standeth in awe of my wordes.
The same voyce spake: Now crye. And I sayde: what shall I crye? Then spake yt: that all flesh is grasse, and that all the bewtye therof, is as the floure of the felde.
Yea I thinke al thinges but losse for that excellent knowledge sake of Christ Iesu my Lord. For whom I haue counted al thinges losse, and do iudge them but dounge, that I myght wynne Christe,
For thus sayeth the hye and excellent, euen he that dwelleth in euerlastingnesse, whose name is the holy one. I dwell hye aboue & in the sanctuary, and with him also, that is of a contrite & humble spirite: that I maye heale a troubled mind, & a contrite hert.