Psalms 72:14
And I have been scourged all the day; and my chastisement hath been in the mornings.
Open Psalms 72:14 in the Motif Searcher, word by word across all five texts →Show on the spiral →The verse in its languages
- Vulgate (Clementine)
- et fui flagellatus tota die, et castigatio mea in matutinis.
- Septuagint (Swete)
- καὶ ἐγενόμην μεμαστιγωμένος ὅλην τὴν ἡμέραν, καὶ ὁ ἔλεγχός μου εἰς τὰς πρωίας.
- Hebrew (WLC) shown from Psalms 73:14
- וָאֱהִ֣י נָ֭גוּעַ כָּל הַיּ֑וֹם וְ֝תוֹכַחְתִּ֗י לַבְּקָרִֽים
Haydock's commentary
Mornings. Every day, (Menochius) or it comes quickly upon me. (Haydock)
From Haydock's Catholic Bible Commentary, 1859, in the transcription made by Todd Easton and kept online by John Paul Wohlschied at johnblood.gitlab.io/haydock.
The Fathers on this verse
St Augustine Expositions on the Book of Psalms, Psalm LXXIII
15. “And I said, therefore without cause I have justified my heart” ( ver. 13 ). In that I serve God, and have not these things; they serve him not, and they abound in these things: “therefore without cause I have justified my heart, and have washed among the innocent my hands.” This without cause I have done. Where is the reward of my good life? Where is the wage of my service? I live well and am in need; and the unjust man doth abound. “And I have washed among the innocent my hands. And I have been scourged all the day long” ( ver. 14 ). From me the scourges of God do not impart. I serve well, and I am scourged; he serveth not, and is honoured. He hath proposed to himself a great question. The soul is disturbed, the soul doth pass over things which are to pass away unto despising things earthly and to desiring things eternal. …
St Jerome The Letters of St. Jerome, To Paula
2. But what is this? I wish to check a mother’s weeping, and I groan myself. I make no secret of my feelings; this entire letter is written in tears. Even Jesus wept for Lazarus because He loved him. But he is a poor comforter who is overcome by his own sighs, and from whose afflicted heart tears are wrung as well as words. Dear Paula, my agony is as great as yours. Jesus knows it, whom Blæsilla now follows; the holy angels know it, whose company she now enjoys. I was her father in the spirit, her foster-father in affection. Sometimes I say: “Let the day perish wherein I was born,” and again, “Woe is me, my mother, that thou hast borne me a man of strife and a man of contention to the whole earth.” I cry: “Righteous art thou, O Lord…yet let me talk with thee of thy judgments. …