hing if our own eyes are dry. Let
us, then, turn back to Bishop Andrewes's prayer for the grace of tears,
and offer it every night with him till our head, like his, is holy
waters, and till, like him, we get beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for
mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.

4. 'Clear as tears' is a Persian proverb when they would praise their
purest spring water. But Mr. Wet-eyes has from henceforth spoiled the
point of that proverb for us. 'I see,' he said, 'dirt in mine own tears,
and filthiness in the bottom of my prayers.' Mr. Wet-eyes is hopeless.
Mr. Wet-eyes is intolerable. Mr. Wet-eyes would weary out the patience
of a saint. There is no satisfying or pacifying or ever pleasing this
morbose Mr. Wet-eyes. The man is absolutely insufferable. Why, prayers
and tears that the most and best of God's people cannot attain to are
spurned and spat upon by Mr. Wet-eyes. The man is beside himself with
his tears. For, tears that would console and assure us for a long season
after them, he will weep over them as we scarce weep over our worst sins.
His closet always turns all his comeliness to corruption. He comes out
of his closet after all night in it with his psalm-book wrung to pulp,
and with all his righteousnesses torn to filthy rags; till all men escape
Mr. Wet-eyes' society--all men except Mr. Desires-awake. I will go out
on your errand now, said Mr. Desires-awake, if you will send Mr. Wet-eyes
with me. And thus the two twin sons of sorrow for sin and hunger after
holiness went out arm in arm to the great pavilion together, Mr. Desires-
awake with his rope upon his head, and Mr. Wet-eyes with his hands
wringing together. Thus they went to the Prince's pavilion. I gave you
a specimen of one of Mr. Wet-eyes' prayers in the introduction to this
discourse, and you did not discover much the matter with it, did you? You
did not discover much filthiness in the bottom of that prayer, did you? I
am sure you did not. Ah! but that is because you have not yet got Mr.
Wet-eyes' eyes. When you get his eyes; when you turn and employ upon
yourselves and upon your tears and upon your prayers his always-wet
eyes,--then you will begin to understand and love and take sides with
this inconsolable soul, and will choose his society rather than that of
any other man--as often, at any rate, as you go out to the Prince's
pavilion door.

5. 'Mr. Repentance was my father, but good men somet