Heaviness in the heart of man maketh it stoop: but a good word maketh it glad.

A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance: but by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken.

The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit who can bear?

Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart; for God now accepteth thy works.

Live joyfully with the wife whom thou lovest all the days of the life of thy vanity, which he hath given thee under the sun, all the days of thy vanity: for that is thy portion in this life, and in thy labour which thou takest under the sun.

By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.

And patience, experience; and experience, hope:

My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death.

When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long.

For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me: my moisture is turned into the drought of summer. Selah.

For my days are consumed like smoke, and my bones are burned as an hearth.

By reason of the voice of my groaning my bones cleave to my skin.

So that contrariwise ye ought rather to forgive him, and comfort him, lest perhaps such a one should be swallowed up with overmuch sorrow.

For godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of: but the sorrow of the world worketh death.