Weep, weep for those who do the work of the Lord with a high look and a proud heart. Their voice is lifted up in the streets, and their cry is heard. The bruised reed they break by their great strength, and the smoking flax they trample.

Weep not for the quenched (for their God will hear their cry and the Lord will come to save them) but weep, weep for the quenchers.

For when the Day of the Lord is come, and the vales sing and the hills clap their hands and the light shines then their eyes will be opened on a waste place, smouldering, the smoke of the flax bitter in their nostrils, their feet pierced by broken reed-stems . . . Wood, hay and stubble, and no grass springing, and all the birds flown.

Weep, weep for those who have made a desert in the name of the Lord.

Evangeline Paterson, “Lament,” in Francis A. Schaeffer, The Mark of the Christian (Downers Grove, 1970), pages 37-38.