before him, robbing him of rest. Angels
have present pure delight, with no such shadow possible--they die not.
The beast may enjoy his pasture, for no thought of a coming death
disturbs him. Life may be full of a kind of enjoyment to such; but
man, poor man, when awake to the possibilities of his own being, as it
surely becomes man to be (and that is just the point of this book--we
are not looking upon man as a mere animal, but as a reasoning creature,
and as such he), is robbed of present rest and enjoyment by an
inevitable fate to which he is hastening, and from which there is no
possible escape. Do not all go to one place?--that vague "Sheol,"
speaking of the grave, and yet the grave, not as the _end_, but an
indefinite shadowy existence beyond? All, all go there; and with no
light on _that_, better, indeed, "the untimely birth which came in
vanity and departs in darkness;" for this, at least, has the more rest.
Bitter groan this, indeed!

For the Preacher continues: "Does man's labor satisfy him? Can he get
what is really 'good' from it?" No. For never is his appetite filled
so that it desires nothing more. The constant return of its thirst
demands constant toil; and fool and wise must alike obey its call.
This is not confined to bodily food, but covers that bitter hunger and
thirst of the heart, as the use of the word soul (margin) shows. The
longings of the wise may be for a higher food. He may aim above the
mere sensual, and seek to fill his soul with the refined, but he
_fails_, as indeed do all, even "the poor man who knows to walk before
the living;" that is, even the poor man who, with all the disadvantages
of poverty, has wisdom enough to know how to live so as to command the
respect of his fellows. Wise indeed must such be; but he, no more than
the fool, has found the "good" that forever satisfies hunger and
thirst, and calms to rest the wandering of the soul, which, like the
restless swallow, is ever on the wing. Man is made up of desire, and
one glimpse with the eyes, something seen, is at least something
secured, and it is better than all mere longing, which is vanity and
the pursuit of the wind. For everything has long ago been named _from
its own nature_; and in this way its name shows what it is. Thus man,
too, (Adam,) is, and ever has been, known from his name, from "adamah,"
earth; his name so showing his mortality. If thus he has been made by
his Creator, how vain for him to hope to