A joyful soul maketh liking age; a sorrowful spirit maketh dry bones.
My virtue dried as a tilestone, and my tongue cleaved to my cheeks; and thou hast brought forth me into the dust of death.
Mourning in the heart of a just [or rightwise] man shall make him meek; and he shall be made glad by a good word.
A joyful heart maketh glad the face; the spirit is cast down in the mourning of soul.
Words well-set together is a comb of honey; health of bones is the sweetness of soul.
The spirit of a man sustaineth his feebleness; but who may sustain a spirit light to be wroth?
And laughing I areckoned error, and I said to joy, What art thou, deceived in vain?
so that on the contrary ye rather forgive and comfort, lest peradventure he that is such a manner man, be swallowed up, [or be sopped up, or despair], by more great heaviness.
For the sorrow that is after God, worketh penance into steadfast health; but sorrow of the world worketh death.