The examples which (in me at any rate) can hardly fail to produce a smile may occur most disquietingly in Psalms we love; 143, after proceeding for eleven verses in a strain that brings tears to the eyes, adds in the twelfth, almost like an afterthought “and of thy goodness slay mine enemies”. Even more naively, almost childishly, 139, in the middle of its hymn of praise throws in (19) “Wilt thou not slay the wicked, O God?”—as if it were surprising that such a simple remedy for human ills had not occurred to the Almighty.
