The word of God is full of sad and grave counsel, full of the

In the solemn words of John Jewel, the English divine of the Reformation, we hear a truth both ancient and eternal: *“The word of God is full of sad and grave counsel, full of the knowledge of God, of examples of virtues, and of correction of vices, of the end of this life, and of the *life to come.” These words are not mere theology—they are a reflection of the soul’s long journey through time, a mirror held up to humanity’s search for wisdom and redemption. Jewel, a bishop in a time of great upheaval, spoke as one who had seen the storm and found refuge in the everlasting Word.

From the first breath of creation, the Word of God has been both comfort and fire—comfort to the weary spirit, fire to the hardened heart. When Jewel says it is “full of sad and grave counsel,” he reminds us that divine wisdom does not flatter, nor does it soften truth. It speaks as the mountains speak—steadfast, immovable, and piercing to the soul. It warns of pride, of folly, of the paths that lead to ruin. Its sadness is not despair, but the deep sorrow of love that sees humanity stumbling toward destruction and still reaches out to save.

The knowledge of God is not mere learning—it is revelation. To know God is to gaze into the heart of all things and see their purpose. This knowledge humbles the wise and lifts the lowly. In every page of sacred writing, one finds not the vanity of men but the vision of eternity. As Jewel teaches, within this Word are examples of virtues, for in the stories of saints, prophets, and simple believers we see reflected our own struggles. Their courage becomes our guide; their faith, our armor; their endurance, our hope.

Consider, for example, the life of Job, that ancient sufferer whose wealth was stripped away, whose children perished, whose body was covered in sores. Yet even in his affliction, he did not curse the Almighty. His story stands as a correction of vices—of impatience, of rebellion, of despair—and as a radiant example of virtue—of faithfulness in the dark. When John Jewel spoke of the “sad and grave counsel” of Scripture, he spoke of such stories: not fables meant to entertain, but living testaments meant to transform.

The Word of God also speaks of the end of this life, not as something to be feared, but as the threshold to the life to come. It whispers to us that time is fleeting, that our days are as grass that withers, and that every moment bears the weight of eternity. To meditate upon this truth is not to fall into gloom, but to awaken to purpose. The ancients knew this well—Socrates in the prison cell, Seneca before his final breath, and Jewel himself in the shadow of persecution—all understood that to live rightly, one must live with the end in sight.

Let us then learn the lesson Jewel sought to preserve: that the Word is not a relic, but a living flame. It speaks across centuries, guiding souls out of the darkness of ignorance and into the light of truth. To those who read it with humility, it becomes a mirror of the heart; to those who obey it, it becomes a path of peace. The correction of vices is not punishment but purification—a refining fire through which the soul emerges brighter and freer.

And so, my children of tomorrow, take this counsel to heart: read not the Word of God as a scholar dissects a scroll, but as a wanderer drinks from a spring. Let its sad and grave counsel sober you, its examples of virtue inspire you, and its knowledge of God fill you with awe. When temptation arises, recall the corrections it offers; when despair looms, remember the promise of life to come. For the Word is not merely written—it is alive, breathing wisdom into all who seek it.

Thus, let every dawn find you with an open heart and every night with a humbled soul. Seek wisdom not for pride, but for peace. Walk the path of virtue though it be narrow, and do not fear correction, for it is the hand of the Divine shaping you into something eternal. In the quiet hours, when the world’s noise fades, listen—and you will hear it: the Word of God, ancient and living, calling you toward the light beyond this life, into the glory of the life to come.