The legends of Hans Sachs are all pointed with satire. Readers now-a-days find in them a coarseness which jars their ideas of reverence and refinement, but which in the sixteenth century was in perfect keeping with the popular taste. One of the best of his legends is that of “St. Peter and the Goat.” “We are told that once upon a time St. Peter was perplexed by an apparent prevalence of injustice in the world; and ventured to think that he could arrange matters better if he held the reins of government. He frankly confesses these thoughts to his Master. Meanwhile a peasant girl comes to him and complains that she has to do a hard day’s work, and at the same time to keep in order a frolicsome young goat. ‘Now,’ says the Lord to Peter, ‘you must have pity on this girl, and must take charge of the goat. That will serve as an introduction to your managing the affairs of the universe.’”
“The young goat had a playful mind And never liked to be confined; The Apostle at a killing pace, Followed the goat, in a desperate chase; Over the hills and among the briers The goat runs on and never tires, While Peter, behind, on the grassy plain, Runs on, panting and sighing in vain. All day, beneath a scorching sun, The good Apostle had to run Till evening came; the goat was caught And safely to the Master brought, Then, with a smile, to Peter said The Lord: ‘Well, friend, how have you sped? If such a task your powers has tried How could you keep the world so wide?’ Then Peter, with his toil distressed, His folly, with a sigh, confessed; ‘No, Master, ’tis for me no play To rule one goat for one short day; It must be infinitely worse To regulate the universe.’”
The heart of man is like a ship out on a wild sea, and driven by storm-winds blowing from all the four quarters of the world; now impelled by fear and care for coming evil, now disturbed by vexation and grief for present misfortune, now urged along by hope and a confidence of future good, now wafted by joy and contentment. These storm-winds of the soul teach us how to speak in good earnest, to open our hearts and to utter their contents. The man actually in want and fear does not express himself quietly, like a man who only talks about fear and want; a heart filled with joy utters itself and sings in a way not to be imitated by one who is all the time in fear; “It does not come from the heart,” men say, when a sorrowful man tries to laugh, or a merry man would weep.… Now of what does this book of Psalms mostly consist but of earnest expressions of the heart’s emotions—the storm-winds, as I have called them? Where are finer expressions of joy than the Psalms of praise and thanksgiving? There you look into the hearts of the saints, as if you looked into a fair and delightful garden, aye, or into heaven itself—and you see how lovely and pleasant flowers are springing up there out of manifold happy and beautiful thoughts of God and all His mercies.… But again, where will you find deeper, more mournful and pitiful words of sorrow than in the Psalms devoted to lamentation? I conclude then that the Psalter is a hand-book for religious men, wherein every one, whatever may be his condition, may find words that will rhyme with it; and Psalms as exactly fitted to suit his wants as if they had been written solely for his benefit.—_From the Preface to Luther’s Book of Psalms._